Silent Reading Time Kaiju No. 8, Hoshina Soshiro X Reader, Use Of Foods As Nicknames, Childhood Best

silent reading time — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, biting, 1.4k words

Hoshina Soshiro is staring at your thighs.

... you think.

It's hard to tell, since you aren't looking at him. Quick, fleeting glances out of the corner of your eye aren't enough to discern the true aim of his line of sight, but it really kinda looks like... he's looking at your thighs.

Why, though?

It's just a typical weekday night. You dropped by his room the way you have for the past twenty-odd years, holding a paperback book with a purple pen tucked behind your ear, ready to indulge in your favorite pastime of silent reading in your best friend's company. Soshiro has his own paperback in hand, green pen spinning around his fingers. The two of you jot little notes as you read, and once you finish you swap books. Later, you'll go to one of your favorite cafes together to talk about them. Soshiro's neat scrawl is as familiar to you as the back of your own hand.

For a brief moment you debate calling him out on his staring. But — nah, it's probably nothing. Maybe your pajama shorts are a little worn and he's just appalled you're wearing something so flimsy.

"What's up, beansprout?"

You glance up from the words you haven't been reading and meet your best friend's gaze. "Huh?"

Soshiro closes his book but keeps his finger tucked to hold his place. His green pen spins in a blur. "You've been starin' at that page for ages. You sleepy or somethin'?"

"Nooo..." you draw out the word as you think of something to say. "Just wondering if I should get new pajamas."

Well — you didn't call him a creep, but now he's blatantly staring at your thighs and maybe this is... worse? You can feel a flush rising up your body at his scrutiny.

"What's wrong with these?"

"... Nothing?"

Soshiro gives you a doubtful look and before you have a chance to retreat, he's caught you against the bed, pinning you down with his elbows on either side of your shoulders. Your books and pens go flying across the mattress, landing with a thunk and a clatter as the room settles back to stillness. The sudden proximity of him looming above you takes your breath away. You squirm a little at the abrupt weight. Soshiro chuckles, his breath warm by your ear as his legs press yours into the mattress.

"Tell me, egg tart."

He's close enough that the strands of his purple hair tickle your forehead. You know you have no chance of getting away from the Vice Captain of the Third Division in close quarters, but you wiggle half-heartedly anyway. "Get off of me, you big oaf!"

"Oh? That's not very nice," Soshiro's grin is playful. He eyes you for a second, and then he pouts. "I just wanna know what's runnin' through that pretty lil head."

Well that's just unfair. He knows you're weak to him when he makes that face. You scrunch your nose at him and giggle when he mimics you. He's steady, hovering above you, as if it's nothing for him to basically hold a modified plank pose on the soft surface of his mattress. Something about that makes you feel... a little warm.

But he's your best friend. You've known him since you were toddlers, training in swordsmanship together at the Hoshina estate, following him into the Defense Force until you hit a wall and pivoted to research instead — you know Hoshina Soshiro, and he does not make you feel warm like this.

You gather your wits about you slowly, like your braincells are moving through molasses. Soshiro seems content to hold his position, familiar grin still firmly in place. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, the careful way he keeps from squishing you entirely, even though he's stopping you from running away from the question.

"It's really nothing, promise," you say, "I just thought maybe you kept looking at my pajamas because they're so old."

There's a moment of silence as Soshiro digests this. You listen to him breathing above you, the thick fabric of his sweats warm where his legs press into your bare skin, the overhead light haloing his purple strands and casting his carefully blank expression in a faint shadow.

"Dontcha think you're a lil too comfy 'round me?" His voice comes out low, almost missed beneath the sound of your rapidly accelerating heartbeat. "I'm a man, too, y'know."

You blink. Soshiro's now wearing the vaguely amused smile he always seems to have on when you're around, but there's something lingering along the edges that sends a shiver up your spine.

Forget molasses. Your brain shuts down entirely, bluescreening as you frantically try to reconcile his words and his meaning and why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to — to eat you, to swallow you whole — and why does he keep glancing at your lips? Do you have something between your teeth?

But, no, wait — Soshiro is a man. You know this. You've known this for ages. It's impossible to train with the strongest close quarters combatant in the entire Defense Force and not realize this simple fact. You've seen Soshiro take down more miniature and mid-sized kaiju than you can count, and he's a brilliant leader of his platoon and division. Everyone respects him and works hard to live up to his expectations, though you know he works three times as hard in the shadows.

Your childhood friend is certainly not a child any longer. One glance at the densely packed muscle on Soshiro's body is enough proof of that. You peek at his biceps tensing as he shifts above you and gulp.

Yeah, he's definitely a man.

But what does that have to do with anything...?

"Of course I'm comfy with you, Soshiro-kun," you say. Why does your voice sound like that? All... breathy and soft? You clear your throat and try to inject some normalcy in your tone. "You're my best friend! You'd tell me if my pajamas are too worn out, right?"

Soshiro just looks at you blankly. This is where he's supposed to crack a joke, this is where he flicks your forehead and calls you 'sugarplum' and rolls off of you, this is not where he suddenly leans down close enough that you can feel his breaths puff against your ear before everything narrows down to the singular point on your neck where he bites you.

"S-Soshiro-kun, what the hell?!"

"What's wrong? We're best friends, ain't we?"

"Yeah, but why'd you bite me?"

Soshiro's laugh is pressed into your neck like honey dripping from the comb. He's not... He hasn't moved away. You haven't moved away.

You could. He's left you room to move.

But you don't.

It's warm. His legs are still pressing against yours. The faintly woodsy smell of him is all around you, seeping into your skin as you shift amidst his blankets. "No reason," he says airily, lips brushing your temple as he brings himself to hover above you again. "Just takin' advantage of my best friend privileges."

"By... biting me?"

"By showin' ya I'm comfy 'round you, too."

The tension pops. You can't help but laugh, something like relief and the bittersweet tinge of regret flushing through your bloodstream. "What are you, an animal? Who the heck bites people and calls it comfortable?"

"Are ya uncomfy?"

"Well, no, but—"

"I've always wanted to bite you," Soshiro says. You can read the truth in the curve of his smile as his purple strands waver above you. "Ya look like you'd taste good, chestnut."

"That's it," you wrinkle your nose at him. "You've gotta come up with other nicknames for me, or else you'll keep thinking of me as food!"

Soshiro hums in thought. You can feel the sting and the faint imprint of teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck. Something about it makes you feel fuzzy inside, like a tv antenna struggling to search for a signal. You shift anxiously as the silence stretches, yearning for something unknown.

"No can do," he says brightly. His red eyes gleam as he leans down again. "But we're comfy with each other, yeah? Want me to inspect these old pjs for ya?"

The blush blooms beneath your skin with a force that startles you. "Uh, what—? No, Soshiro-kun, definitely not—"

He grins and it's bright, but a little strained. You reach up unthinkingly to cup his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs along his jawline and cheekbones and smiling when he leans into the touch. The knot in your chest loosens. The two of you bask in the comfort of each other for a moment.

"You should really tell me off," he breathes, tilting his head. "You should tell me ta quit messin' around."

"Are you messing around?" you ask.

Soshiro laughs, a quiet sound in the stillness of the room. "I'm never messin' around when it comes to you."

im at roughly 4k words into this scara fic and im not even done with the ending yet goodbye 🤸🤸🤸🤸

ur wise fics r so good .. pls don't die they give me life

USER VXNUSLOGY WILL NOT BE DYING SOON (probably) (hopefully) (school is starting)

– in between missions.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: it's been an eventful six months since sunday joined the stellaron hunters. today marked one of their very rare day offs, and what better way to spend the day with the people that's taken care of him.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, mentions of blood in some parts.

– author's note: updated the lore in this little mini-series (?) LMAOO thank you sunday leaks on sunday for bringing me back to life. so sorry for being a bit ia, tumblr has been such a pain in the ass that it slightly demotivated me to write. new layout for sunday fics too so yippie!! (totally not foreshadowing). art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 4.1k words (LMFAO).

MORNING — 6:00 A.M.

before, sunday would wake up at the crack of dawn; waiting for the sun’s rays as he watered the plants he’d been taking care of. now –he still wakes up earlier than most– he spends his mornings in a big kitchen with the sound of kafka’s humming filling the bubbles of silences that start to form. it was always a pleasure helping the older woman cook everyone’s breakfast without having their loud bickering in the background (though sometimes he would grow paranoid if he never heard it throughout the day; he’s grown used to your voices).

before missions started, all the petty quips, and the laughter, sunday appreciated the quiet moments he gets to share with kafka.

“sunny, can you take over for me? i need to defrost silver wolf’s nuggets.”

sunday only hummed in response. body lazily slipping itself into kafka’s previous position of frying the leftover rice from yesterday. “sunny” was the woman’s name for him; a form of endearment, you said, she does it to everyone. sunday would never admit it himself (kafka often teased how adorable his morning voice was so he tried not to speak until after breakfast), but hearing that little nickname always sent a flurry of little butterflies down to his chest. collecting the pollen from the flowers you’ve carefully placed in between his ribs and spreading it all over his chest. no one has ever given him such a casual nickname before, so sunday had started to cling to it like a lifeline.

when the clock strikes 7:30, it usually means you're about to wake up. after patting his hands dry on a spare kitchen towel, sunday lifts his head and there you are. a small smile spread across his lips when you greeted kafka with a side hug. you still had your bed hair and your eyes were barely open; it was an endearing sight to see.

“good morning,” sunday snaps out of his daze when an arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to your chest. sunday could distinctly smell the chocolate you ate with silver wolf the night before and the soft remnants of your scented candle. he let his head lean more into your touch as he mumbles a soft good morning straight to your heart. ignoring the pair of eyes that crinkle in amusement behind the kitchen counter.

by the time 7:50 rolls around, you’re fully awake. a cup of coffee in your hands as you, him, and kafka go door to door to wake up your little group. from the corner of sunday’s eyes, he sees kafka peer over blade’s door and a grumpy okay go through. on the other end, he sees you greet firefly good morning with a hug before disappearing into another hall to come and get elio. 

before he could even knock on silver wolf’s door, the wooden thing pulled open and he was met with the sight of the silver haired girl looking down at her game console. he chuckled in amusement, patting down the stray hairs that poked up and guided her to the kitchen. he made sure to ask if she’s beaten the boss yet and when she replied with an angry huff, sunday took it as a sign to not bring it up for a while.

it's already 8:10 when everyone is sitting down around the kitchen table. plates of warm fried rice, chicken nuggets, some slices of fruits, pancakes, and multiple cups of teas and coffees were laid down on the table. small chatter started to arise and sunday could feel the energy start to spike as well. as he took bite after bite until he felt your knee bump into his. when he turned to you, he was met with the sight of you pushing more food in his direction.

“you need to eat more,” you said before taking a bite of your pancake. “you’ll need the extra nutrients if you want to fly again.”

sunday just smiled and accepted your offerings without as much as a word.

roughly an hour passes before everyone is cleaning up their spaces. blade was on dishes duty while the rest went back to their rooms to get changed. sunday was in his quarters, buttoning up a spare polo blade had given him when he heard a knock on his door.

“good morning again.” you greet with a smile.

sunday smiled in return and urged you to come in. “good morning to you, too.”

“kafka and firefly are going out for groceries. do you want anything?”

sunday was taken back to the days where he would water the plants in his office back in the penacony. how he would run his finger down each leaf and smile to himself when a flower starts to bloom. if sunday only joined a few weeks ago, he’d declined immediately. but it's been almost half a year since he’s joined, and he’s feeling a bit more comfortable with asking for more personal things.

“plants,” he replies. “the small ones that are easy to take care of.”

you tilt your head curiously like an owl. “why plants?”

“i used to take care of some flowers back in dewlight pavilion every morning. i’d like to get back into that, if you don’t mind.”

sunday recognized that little smirk of yours. with a shake of his head, he accompanies you out his room after fixing up his hair and bid farewell to kafka and firefly.

“let’s get you all the plants you want then.” 

AFTERNOON — 2:38 P.M.

training in the afternoon was something sunday didn’t get quite used to. even now as he’s exchanging blows with blade, he feels quite unsure of his grip around the hilt of the wooden sword; how his footwork felt sloppy and uncoordinated. sunday wasn’t shocked (maybe, just slightly, a bit bitter) when the dark haired man knocked him off his feet for the seventh time in under two hours.

“you’re overthinking things too much,” the man grumbled, offering his hand to him. “it’s written all over your face; stop thinking about the nitty gritty things and start focusing on the task at hand. if you keep focusing on your opponent's footwork, you’ll end up ignoring his swings.”

“right, apologize. let’s go again.”

sunday had never felt such a competitive surge of emotions come over him whenever he trained with blade. the way he swung the charred sword in his hands; his body and how it moved so fluidly like water; and his determination to win despite beating him by more than a mile; it made sunday want to genuinely get better. blade fought like it would be his last battle, and he would go down with a fight.

“mister is getting better,” muttered silver wolf as she collapsed face first by your side, finishing her own training with elio. “he’s keeping up with the old man now.”

you brush away the bangs that stuck to her forehead and offer her a towel. elio, now in their cat form, sat down on your other side and started playing with the orange peels. “sunday has improved a lot huh? it feels like it was just yesterday when he first joined.”

“for reals.” the silver haired girl stretched and tried to reach over for the oranges.

a memory resurfaced in sunday’s mind when he caught sight of you peeling oranges for silver wolf. how you looked particularly at peace in the moment. his mind replayed the image of robin when she came back to penacony after the accident. he had such an intense amount of guilt for not being by her side at such a hard time, he isn't quite sure how to put it into words. 

“brother!” shouted robin as she entered his office, a bright smile on her face and her phone in hand.

before he could utter a word she had shoved her phone to his face, “an orange?” he asked with a confused tilt of his head.

robin nodded and said, “they say when someone close to you peels your oranges, it's a sign of having a strong relationship! is that why you’ve been peeling my oranges for me recently?”

sunday felt the wind be knocked out of him as his world turned upside down. blade had flipped him over to his back and as the cherry on top, whacked him on the head with his wooden sword. 

“for not paying attention,” he grumbled. “let’s call it a day.”

he didn’t get much of a word in when blade was already seated beside silver wolf (the girl shoving an orange slice to his mouth and him accepting it silently). sunday gets up from his lying position, patting down the dust on his (blade’s) clothes and takes a seat next to you. 

“do you mind opening your wings for me?” you ask as you place a small plate of orange slices on his lap.

taking one in his hand and a small bite, he lets the pair of wings by his waist stretch out and lay on your lap. your careful fingers and observant eyes scanning over every feather, smoothing out the ones that stuck out. it wasn’t long before silver wolf put down her console and started poking at his wings too.

“do you feel that, mister?” she asks.

he shakes his head with a small smile, “no, i do not.”

she only hummed and looked up at you. “will he be able to fly soon?”

you take a few seconds to respond.

“soon,” you mutter as your hands re-adjusted the exoskeleton that’s been supporting them. “they look better than when you first arrived. you seem rather curious, what gives?”

silver wolf pouted and shoved at you lightly. your chuckle rang in his ears like music. the same melodies he would play on his record player when the night feels too long. sunday leaned more to your side when the younger girl showed a pixelated character in her game and pointed to its wings. 

“when you fly again, mister, you have to take me with you!” she excitedly exclaimed with stars in her eyes. “i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to fly.”

sunday felt a tug deep within his heart when he looked into her eyes. silver wolf, surprisingly, was very welcoming of him when he first joined. they got along fine and would even spend their free time in each other’s company. her excited demeanor reminded him of how robin looked when he first took to the skies. the animated expression on her face; her grin reaching her eyes; and the way she’s leaning forward in anticipation.

“when i fly again, i’ll be sure to let you know first.”

his reply was all the more worth it when the girl jumped in delight and landed on blade’s back. your laughter along with silver wolf’s excited blabbering and even blade’s protests made more flowers bloom inside his chest. sunday ceased his chuckling when he realized he had run out of oranges to eat. before he could even ask for more you’re already replacing his empty one with a new plate filled with peeled oranges.

“i can peel them myself, [name].” he says almost in a whisper.

“i know you can,” you dangle the orange peel in front of elio and let them play with it and stack them in a pile. “but let me do it for you.”

EVENING — 6:00 P.M.

“it’s my turn to decide what we get to eat!”

“it’s been your turn for two weeks. if anything, it’s my turn now.”

sunday could only push the two further and further apart, or at least try too. blade was a foot taller than him and obviously more bulked up than him; silver wolf might be the shortest but she knows how to use it to her advantage, zooming from one place to another like a little mouse. he could only plead with a lopsided smile when you enter the kitchen, your towel around your neck to catch the stray waters that dropped from your hair.

you sighed with the shake of your head and pulled silver wolf back into your chest. two arms snugly wrapped around her small shoulders as she kicked and pointed at blade. sunday on the other hand stepped in front of the man with a stretched arm, trying to calm down the silver haired girl as best as he could.

“at this point if you two can’t decide then i’ll just cook whatever i want.” you joked. both heads turned towards you and glared, but you only laughed and let silver wolf stomp her way to sit on the kitchen counter. “how about some sweet and spicy chicken for dinner? that way you both get what you want.”

sunday watched in amusement as silver wolf jutted her lower lip and mumbled on how she wanted cake. blade only slumped his shoulders and grumbled a low fine and started helping you take out all the ingredients from the fridge as well as the pans and bowls.

“i swear you two have worse cravings than a pregnant wom– ow!” you didn’t get to finish when blade purposely knocked your head when he opened a cabinet. your eyes narrowed at him while he only shrugged. a playful smirk on his lips as he shoved your head lower when you went to berate him.

a soft nudge on sunday’s back pushed him a bit forward. elio’s blue eyes in their cat form met his own gold ones and the two stared for a while. the cat motioned his head towards you and blade who chatted over dinner, not long, silver wolf also joined. 

“go join them.” was all they said before jumping down from the table and going to who knows where.

sunday didn’t get a chance to reply when a pair of arms snuck around his waist. he let out a noise between a surprised gasp and a shout that made you snort in amusement. when he turned to glare at you, you only stuck your tongue out and tied the apron around his waist.

“come help us make dinner, sunday.” 

and how could he say no when you’re already dragging him by the apron to the kitchen aisles with all the ingredients laid down.

by 7:15 p.m., kafka and firefly enter through the door and are met with a memorably amusing sight of sunday almost collapsing on their dining table as elio pushes a carton of milk to his direction. you and silver wolf were laughing at him with pointing hands and tears in your eyes. even blade cracked his own chuckle and rolled his eyes playfully as the halovian kicked him in the shin.

the taller woman surmised that sunday had fallen victim to blade’s insane spice addiction. the stray silver spoon on the table with the sauce was evidence. kafka let out a chuckle as firefly came over to his side –still keeping a bit of distance– and asking if he was alright.

“thought you were only getting groceries?” you ask with a raised brow. eyes surveying the amount of bags she and firefly had in their hands.

“there was a sale for clothes,” kafka reasoned. “how could we say no?”

you shake your head in disbelief and give the woman a side hug. “dinner will be ready in ten. help the poor angel soothe his tongue in the meantime.”

kafka laughed as she dropped her bags by the living room couch and guided sunday to sit down. firefly handed him an empty glass and offered to pour the milk in it. he shook his head no and did it himself. the poor boy downed the drink in one go and it didn’t seem enough to soothe his burning tongue so firefly went to get another carton from the fridge.

sunday furrowed his brows and stuck out his tongue. no doubt his taste buds won’t be working for a while.

“why does blade put so much spice in his food?” he questions the older woman who only smiled. her eyes glazed over to where the said man was and sunday followed. 

“bladie can’t taste anything that isn’t spicy,” kafka said, her eyes not once leaving blade’s figure. “a living corpse can’t really taste anything. spice is considered a pain sensation; pain is the only thing he can feel and taste.”

sunday frowns at this new information. he knows little of blade’s past and had made no effort to try and dig it up. he was curious, yes, but it must be an incredibly sensitive topic if every night the man slips away from his bedroom seeking you or kafka out to soothe the mara that’s coursing through his body.

“i… see.” a hand came to ruffle up his hair. he looked up to see kafka smiling down at him and handed him another cup of milk.

“try to ask him about it someday. maybe you’ll be able to help.”

sunday keeps that information at the back of his mind until everyone finishes cooking dinner.

the clock hit 7:25 and everyone decided to eat by the living room to see what kafka and firefly bought in their mini shopping spree. he sat in between you and blade on the floor, using the small coffee table in front of you to hold your food while silver wolf sat on the couch behind him. her legs over your shoulders and slouched on the couch.

time surprisingly passed slowly tonight. only ten minutes had actually passed of kafka showing off her new coat, but to sunday it had felt like eternity. he absentmindedly tossed his food around his plate, pushing away all the spicy pieces of chicken to the edge of his plate.

“not eating the spicy chicken now are we?” sunday whipped his head to blade and glared. warmth rising to his cheeks, wings fluttering in embarrassment when he remembered what had happened not too long ago. 

“your “normal” amount of spice nearly sent me to a coma,” he rebutted with a roll of his eyes. “so pardon me for not wanting to be sent to the hospital.”

you let out a loud laugh and leaned back on the couch. silver wolf was now using his head as support when she agreed wholly with his statement. firefly let out a quiet cough to silence her laugh while kafka chuckled. blade only rolled his eyes and took the pieces of chicken on his plate and placed it on his own.

“you said you wanted to try.” he argued back. a teasing lilt to his voice as he placed a piece of chicken to his mouth to add more salt to the injury.

“a grave mistake that was.”

you cease your laughing and lean on your propped up arm. “well look at you two, getting along so well!”

sunday scowled while blade scoffed. both picking up pieces of food and silently chewing. what started as a small bump of sunday’s elbow turned into a small petty argument about spice tolerance.

“it is quite sweet of you bladie,” kafka started. “for taking all the spicy pieces off of sunny’s plate, i mean.” 

you jumped to the wagon immediately and nodded. “agreed! you’ve never done that for anyone here before. i’m starting to think you’re playing favorites.”

“one more word and i’m dumping the rest of the chili oil on your plates.”

that had shut you up immediately. for extra measures, you scooted away from them both with your plate close to your chest. “shutting up now…”

NIGHT — 11:20 P.M.

sunday let out a long sigh as he tossed and turned in his bed. he had lost count of how many times he’s replayed tonight’s dinner in his mind to at least try and get some sleep and not be plagued by his nightmares. tonight was joyful, and he’d like to keep it that way till the end of the day. but his insomnia had struck him again like always. he’s already drunk two pills from the medication you bought him and it's yet to take effect.

with one last sigh, sunday threw off the sheets over his body and stalked out of his room as quietly as he could. the base was dark in the dead of night. the halls looked more ominous and longer than normal, something he believed was taken out of a horror film. when he first wandered these halls at this hour, sunday would feel the pricks of his paranoia.

but unlike the first time, there were no longer stray feathers of ravens following his wake. his feet weren’t stained by his blood as he dragged his body to the direction of salvation. in these halls, sunday wasn’t carrying a knife he used to plunge into his own chest to try and make the weight of the sins he didn’t commit a little lighter. he was free; free as he could be in the safety of everyone’s presence.

his gaze shifted to the slightly ajar door that led to your workshop. he frowned as he realized you were staying up late again. when he peered into the small crack, sunday was met with the sight of firefly hunched over your desk, sound asleep with stray pieces of fabric by her feet.

the nights at base were usually cold so sunday quickly walked to his room again to get a spare blanket. as quietly as he could, the halovian entered your workshop, silently cursing when the door creaked slightly. making sure he didn’t step on any of the fabrics on the floor, sunday draped the blanket over the girl’s shoulders.

another memory of his resurfaced. on nights like these, robin would sneak into his office with a pillow and blanket in her hands. she would guide his head gently to lay on the pillow and not the harsh wooden table and make sure the blanket over his shoulders didn’t slip until morning came. by instinct, sunday’s hand came to smooth down firefly’s hair and whispered good night.

he started picking up the stray pieces of whites, blues, and blacks from the floor and neatly folded them one by one. placing them in neat piles on your table. with one last look to firefly’s figure, he smiled to himself and quietly shut the door behind him. his next stop was the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea.

“he’s gone now, firefly.”

even as you called out to her, firefly did not budge and kept her head in between her folded arms. you shook your head and sat down next to her. you had witnessed what happened and you could only guess the conflicted feelings the girl felt.

“do you think he’s a bad person, little knight?” you ask, hands picking up one of the fabrics sunday had graciously folded and laid them on the table. a measuring tape around your shoulders and a pencil snuggly on your ear.

“he’s done bad things, but…” you hum in reply. firefly’s voice was muffled because of her arms but you heard her perfectly fine, much to her dismay. “i don’t think he’s a fully bad person. i just find it… awkward to interact with him.”

“do you want to interact with him?” you wonder. “as friends i mean.”

firefly finally raised her head. hand clutching the blanket draped over her shoulders as the other ghosted over the spot where sunday had patted down and whispered good night.

“i don’t know.”

you only hum. “sunday is rather strange isn’t he? he’s quite the piece of work if you ask me.”

“what about you?” firefly fires back, scooting her chair closer to you. “do you think he’s a bad person.”

“no. no i don’t.” you answer immediately and feel firefly pause. “he’s kindest person i’ve ever met.”

“i see…”

you pat her head gently and fixate your gaze back to your table.

“he’s a lot more like us than anyone expected. sunday has done bad things that hurt those around him, but we’ve also done that haven’t we? take your time. all of us were lonely at some point, so it’s also his first time he’s ever craved someone’s company. we’ve all done that too, didn’t we?”

when a new day started (around 1:56 a.m.) she made her way back to her room. sunday’s blanket was still wrapped around her even when she laid down on her own bed. she never pointed out how you purposefully drafted a space for the ticket you’ve always hidden on sunday’s new uniform.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

Matchmaking Mina

Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Your kind-hearted captain has taken it upon herself to stoke the flames of love between you and Soshiro!

Warnings: none

Captain Mina Ashiro may act aloof, but she wasn’t blind. Anyone in the Third Division could see that you and Soshiro were the perfect match for each other. If neither of you were going to make the first move, it was only right that she, as your trusted leader, guided you in the right direction. Only, of course, after assessing the situation to make sure you two really did like one another.

*Click*

Her phone captured a snapshot of you at lunch one day, laughing at something Kafka had said. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were creased with joy—you looked positively radiant. Mina made her way to Soshiro’s office, eager to begin her investigation.

“Captain,” Soshiro saluted, “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

“Just stopping by. Checking on the status of your report from last week.”

“It’s almost done. I’ve been hard at work,” Soshiro grinned, sticking his pointer fingers out.

He’s in a pleasant mood. Let’s see if that changes.

“Good. I also came to show you a new picture of Bakko from the other day.”

It was a plausible excuse; Soshiro was a fan of cats as well and Mina was known for subjecting her friends and subordinates to monologues about how cute Bakko was. The vice captain was now standing by her side, peering over her shoulder at the phone in her hand.

“Here it is—oops! Wrong picture.”

Your picture was the one currently being displayed and from her peripheral vision, she saw Soshiro gulp ever so slightly, his eyes opened a bit wider. She was in no hurry, taking her time to slide her finger over the screen to the “correct” photo.

“Sorry about that. It was a cute photo, though, wasn’t it? Didn’t y/n look nice?”

“Huh? Yeah. I mean, sure,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears a rosy hue.

Now for the real test.

“I’d never seen her laugh so hard, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re around Kafka, right?”

There was an immediate shift of mood in the room, tension filling the open space like a dam had burst. Soshiro had gone from blushing to bloodthirsty in a millisecond and Mina was thankful she’d been blessed with a poker face or else she’d be bursting in laughter at his very apparent jealousy.

“If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I should finish this report.”

Soshiro saluted her again before sitting at his desk and Mina took her leave.

Well, that was informative.

Now she knew that Soshiro definitely harbored a crush for you and a hatred for Hibino. As she walked down the empty hallway, she let a small smile grace her lips.

She loved love.

Mina did the exact same experiment to you a few days later. As a fellow cat enthusiast, you were very excited at the prospect of seeing new Bakko content, quickly taking a seat next to your captain. This time around, she had managed to take an extremely flattering picture of Soshiro during training. He was standing outside, slightly flushed from the previous physical exertion, with one hand on his hip and the other pushing his hair out of his face.

Maybe if I ever retire I’ll become a photographer.

“…and there’s Bakko-oops. Not this.”

Your mouth was partially agape and she spied how you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man on the screen. His tight fitting shirt hugged every curve of every muscle. His physique and pose were reminiscent of a model you’d see on a billboard in downtown Tokyo or on a runway in Paris.

“T-that’s a great picture you got of Vice Captain,” you breathed out in awe. “He looks so… hot.”

“If you’re into that sort of look, sure,” she answered.

“I definitely am,” you said dreamily, clearing your throat with embarrassment when you realized you said that out loud. “I mean, yeah. If someone was… hypothetically, like… into that sort of… thing.”

Mission 100% accomplished; they’re very much into each other.

Next up was the hard part of figuring out how to get confessions from the two of you without meddling too much. That’s why she was hoping today’s training, with you being partnered with Kafka, would be enough to stir up those same feelings and visceral reactions you both had while looking at the photos of each other not that long ago. So far, it was working splendidly. Kafka would say or do something ridiculous, causing you to howl with laughter and Soshiro to shoot Kafka a burning glare that could rival the intensity of a wildfire. Meanwhile, Soshiro would take his frustration out on the sparring training dummies, in turn leaving you dumbstruck at the way he moved so majestically and remained the most handsome man on earth, even in a state of sweaty exhaustion. When training was finally over, Mina couldn’t slow the buildup of anticipation deep inside her, eager to see the lovebirds admit their feelings, or at the very least, converse with each other. Neither of those things happened; you and Soshiro didn’t even exchange eye contact before going your separate ways.

Mina frowned. Didn’t she plant the seeds of attraction, water the foundations of a relationship, nurture the-

Looking back, I guess I didn’t do all that much.

“L/n.”

You turned around immediately at the sound of your captain’s voice, saluting as the dark haired woman approached you. You had just finished showering after a grueling day of exercise and were on your way to your room to get some much needed rest

“Come with me, please.”

“Right now?” you asked incredulously, eyes raking over the cat pajamas you were sporting. “Should I change into my uniform really quick?”

“No need,” she replied, “it’ll only be a moment:”

“Alright then.”

You were thoroughly confused but who were you to question your captain? You followed behind her dutifully, like a child following their mother to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk after a nightmare. Your eyebrows knit in confusion as she brought you into Soshiro’s office. He, too, had just showered, but he had changed into a fresh tracksuit, presumably because he never stopped working.

“Captain! What can I do for… you?” Soshiro faltered when he saw you peek out from behind Mina.

“I’m horribly underdressed for whatever’s happening. I sincerely apologize,” you said, bowing your head as to not meet his eyes. You weren’t that far below Soshiro’s rank, being a Platoon Leader, but you didn’t want your superior seeing you in such a state of disarray with your wet hair and casual attire in the office. Soshiro, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Y/n! I didn’t see you back there at first. I like your pajamas, cats are always a good choice.” His fanged smile brought you a sense of comfort,

“Thank you.”

You two would’ve gotten lost in each other’s eyes if it weren’t for Mina reminding you she was still there.

“Let me explain what’s going on. Y/n, Soshiro likes you. Soshiro, y/n likes you.”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop from across the base. You and Soshiro broke eye contact at breakneck speed, becoming self conscious and wary.

Mina was confused. Weird. Aren’t they supposed to kiss or something, like how it happens in books?

“I’ll leave you to it. Good night.”

Mina practically ran out of Soshiro’s office, getting hit with a whole slew of mixed emotions as she made her way to her own office. Was she wrong for getting involved in her subordinates’ love lives? Did she somehow misread the signals you both were giving off? Was her conclusion incorrect, leading her to be labeled a fool, unfit for a leadership position? She fretted all night thinking about the lack of response you and Soshiro had about the great news. The next morning, as she got ready, she thought of all the ways she could explain her behavior and hoped this situation wouldn’t lead to her getting fired (worst case scenario) or you and Soshiro feeling awkward around each other (bad case scenario). You two worked extremely well together, neutralizing kaiju with just glances and nods, no words needed, and she’d never forgive herself for ruining such a good team.

Mina fiddled with her jacket one last time before lifting her chin up and making the trek to her office to start the day. To her surprise, the door was ajar, you and Soshiro apparently waiting for her arrival.

Goodbye Third Division, hello HR…

“Captain,” you began, “Soshiro and I really appreciate what you were trying to do for us, but-”

“I overstepped my boundary,” she cut in. “I’m ashamed that I let my self control slip and I put my subordinates, the people in my care, in an uncomfortable position. I don’t know if I can ever regain your trust again, but I swear that I-”

“Captain.”

This time it was Soshiro who spoke out of turn. “My deepest apologies for interrupting you, but you don’t need to be sorry. Your intuition was correct—y/n and I do like each other.”

Mins could’ve cried tears of happiness hearing that, especially knowing that her job wasn’t at stake anymore, but her joy was turned to confusion when she noticed you and Soshiro share a glance, making a wordless agreement, and then both reaching into your shirts…?

She watched with curious eyes as a chain entered your grasp, previously hidden from view under your shirt, a small ring hanging down from it. Soshiro did the same, a matching ring gleaming under the fluorescent lights. It was then that the inquisitive, intelligent, intuitive captain made the connection—

“Soshiro and I are married,” you said, sheepishly glancing over at your husband. Now it was Mina’s turn to be deadly silent. However, you could tell she wasn’t upset, she was busy comprehending everything that was revealed to her.

“We didn’t tell anyone,” explained Soshiro, “because we didn’t want it to become an issue at work. In retrospect, we could’ve hidden it a bit better.”

He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Though Kafka doesn’t ever seem to get the hint.”

“But we know we can trust you with our lives and we should’ve at least told you. I’m sorry for lying to you, Captain Ashiro,” you said, your head hanging low.

That’s when you heard the strangest sound.

Captain Mina Ashiro… was laughing?

“This was an interesting turn of events,” she eventually said, catching her breath. “It turns out I was correct, but not in the way I thought.”

She strutted over to her desk, sitting down and starting the computer. “If that’s all you had to report, then you’re dismissed. It’s time to go to work.”

She looked up one last time, quirking an eyebrow. “Or are you on your honeymoon?”

– nuvole bianche.

pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader

premise: scaramouche, or kunikuzushi to you, never dreams. but after that accident on prom night, he's been dreaming more than he liked. he wonders if his past actions were actually enough.

– warnings: angst with slight comfort <3 + slight spoilers for the game "until then"

– author's note: this is what happens after i watch a playthrough of every depressing indie game. art credits to @.inertraccoon on twitter. | ~4.7k words.

“look at you working so hard,” you tease as you sit beside him. “what happened to quitting hm?”

he only rolls his eyes at you and elbows your side. you scoff in offense and shove him back. for a while, the two of you went back and forth elbowing one another until you burst out into a fit of laughter. scaramouche only clicks his tongue, his eyes focusing back on the set of black and white keys in front of him. all the while feeling your lingering stare and the way it made the hairs on his arms stand.

“if you’re going to disturb me then leave. i have no use for distractions.” his voice was stern but you only threw him a smile. your own finger danced on the keys with his in perfect harmony, scaramouche couldn’t help the small smirk that twitched at his lips.

“will you finally tell me the name of your piece?” you ask. 

he paused in his movement and just stared in front of him. you continued to play his piece with ease. scaramouche didn’t want to acknowledge how your fingers had memorized every line and curve of his creativity with such precision; he begins to wonder if you’ve taken all of his talents in playing the piano.

“not a chance!” he replied, tone higher than normal.

you let out a sigh and shook your head. scaramouche stares at you with a blank expression, he takes note of the fading light from your eyes and the way your hands slowly drop to your lap. your head turned here and there, taking your surroundings in for some odd reason he didn’t want to figure out.

“you’re acting strange.” he points out and you smile. 

“i just remembered how we first met, that's all.”

he lets out a groan and drags a hand down his face. “don’t remind me.”

your laugh ringed out the empty music room as you playfully shove at his shoulder. 

“oh come on!” you say, wiping the pretend tears from your eyes. “our first meeting was cute.”

“i was ready to cut off your fingers.”

“like i said, it was cute.”

he looks at you with a bewildered expression. his lips turned into an odd smile and his brow kept twitching in annoyance. “you’re such a pain.”

“don’t lie to me kuni,” you tease. “i know you love me!”

“and for the nth time, don’t call me that!”

you cease your teasing and just sigh. body leaning into him despite his protests. you drum your fingers on your lap as he continues to play the piece he’s so keen to keep a secret despite you helping him create it in the first place. for a moment, you close your eyes and relish in scaramouche’s company. taking deep inhales, catching small whiffs of his perfume and tea he had this morning, then opening your eyes as you exhale. 

“another boy went missing today.” you randomly say which made him pause.

“who is it this time?” he shifts closer to you; knees touching as you feel his hand interlace itself with your own. you bury your face further into the crook of his neck. you don’t mention the way his ears flush a cute pink and how his breathing turned shaky.

“it was kazuha today.” you whisper. “how long do you think before another one goes missing?”

he scoffs. you could practically see the frown that tugs at his lips. “don’t know and don’t care.”

“do you really not care?”

you detach yourself from him and look at his eyes. they were such an electric shade of purple, it almost felt illegal to look at them for free. 

“why should i?”

“kuni come on.”

he glares at you and you screw your mouth shut.

scaramouche lets out a deep sigh and stood up. he grabbed your arm and started tugging you out of the music room.

“come on,” he didn't bother to look back as he spoke. “we’ll be late.”

“what if i’m the next to disappear?”

“then i’ll look for you.”

you stare at the back of his head with your mouth slightly agape. neither of you mention the way your classmates stared at your hands and the burning of your ears and cheeks.

– –

what a disaster, you thought. what was supposed to be a heartfelt reunion for a son and his mother turned into a bitter one-sided screaming fest. you flinch when the harsh slamming of the door echoed into the now silent kitchen. 

“i’ll…” you start, pushing your chair back and giving an empathetic smile to the woman who looked identical to your hot headed friend. “go look for him. please excuse me.”

as you close the sliding doors, you couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. a hand dragging itself down your face as you try to spot the treehouse scaramouche had told you about. you dragged your feet into his old backyard and it wasn’t long before you spotted a tree with a small wooden house, the bark had worn out ladders. taking a deep breath, you climb up.

“kuni, you there?” you call out but no one replied. when your head peeked into the slightly ajar door, you feel your heart sink. there he was, in all his mopey state, knees hugging his chest as his eyes stared blankly at the doll in his limp hand.

“hey..” you quietly approach him. “what was that back there? i thought you two were okay now.”

“i told you this wouldn’t work out.”

you frown at his pessimism. “of course it’s not going to work out if you aren’t even trying to–”

“but i am trying!” he shouts, abruptly standing up from his sitting position. you felt a twinge of concern–fear– when he glared at you with tears pricking his eyes while his hand tightly gripped the doll like a lifeline. “is it my fault she wasn’t there when i needed her the most?! is it my fault that she was slowly spiraling into depression and compromising all her relationships?!”

“kuni come on,” you slowly stand and try to calm him down. “you know i don’t mean it like that.”

“then what did you mean!?” he stomps his way over to one of the desks and slams his hands down. you have no doubt that the adults back in the house heard it with how loud it was. 

“i wanted my mother to be there for me when i lost someone important to me.” he murmurs, head hanging low. one hand grips the stray picture frame on the desk and in one violent action, throws it across the room. you flinch at the loud shattering of glass clamored in the rickety old treehouse.

“kuni!” 

“you said you understand.”

“what?”

your feet subconsciously stepped back when scaramouche turned to glare at you – eyes cold and cruel. he pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes following your movement like a hawk.

“you said you understood me, was that also a lie?” his voice cut through the air like a cold knife. he no longer looked like the kunikuzushi you grew up with. the words get stuck in your throat, your mind racing to try and say something–anything.

“but i do understan–”

“then why are you taking her side!?”

“but i’m not taking anyone’s side!” you take a deep breath and rub your temples. “kuni, please, just try to calm down.”

he only clicked his tongue, the sound harsh like the oncoming storm outside.

“where are you going?!” you shout, chasing after him.

“don’t follow me.”

“kuni!”

you try to reach for his hand but the sharp slap echoes in the rain-soaked air. you felt your eyes widen and for a while, you saw a flash of regret and hurt in his eyes as you let your hand drop to your side. he could glare at you all he wanted but you’ll always see through him– at least he hoped you could still recognize him. the way your frown deepened, how you cradled your wrist, and the way your hair slowly hid your eyes– scaramouche was sure you would be the next one to leave him.

“i’m trying my best to understand, kunikuzushi.” you whisper.

how long has it been since you called him by his full name?

“but it’s so hard when all you do is detach yourself when someone tries to get close to you. it’s suffocating y’know?”

“then leave,” he replies, colder than before.

“and what if i actually did?”

scaramouche opened and closed his mouth to reply but no words came out. what would he do if you actually left? would he return to his reclusive self? pushing anyone and everyone away if they tried to get too close? but wasn’t he already doing this right now? what is wrong with him.

“you never tell me anything, kuni, not how you feel nor what's going on,” tears prick your eyes as you try to approach him again. “can’t you see how much this is hurting us? when will you finally let it go? when will you finally move on from the things that have hurt you instead of holding grudges? it’s so painful to see you so stuck in the past.”

“i’m not as forgiving as you.”

“you don’t have to forgive her for anything!”

“you don’t understand.”

“then make me understand! for once kuni, just tell me what you’re feeling instead of leaving me to guess.”

this was going nowhere, he thought. so he did what he does best: runaway and never look back. you call out to him, you even try to catch up to him but the sudden downpour of rain made it hard to make out his figure that slowly disappeared. he ground his teeth together and gripped his hair. 

“i’m a fucking mess.”

– –

scaramouche stared at himself in front of the mirror. dressed in formal kimono for tonight’s prom theme. a deep sigh left him as he readjusted his haori. the house was unusually chatty tonight – most probably because his mother was downstairs with nahida and her mother. it filled the normally quiet and serene atmosphere with something warm.

it’s been around a week and a half since you had last talked to him. he hasn’t heard from you since he dropped off the box of dango with a note asking for a dance, he hopes you liked them. he reached for the gel on his desk but he hesitates, not sure if he wanted to gel his hair back or just leave it as is. you’ve always nagged him about being presentable, now it’s become a habit of his to bring a small mirror and a comb wherever he goes.

a knock echoed in his room. 

“may i come in, kunikuzushi?” ei, his mother, asked from the other side.

for a brief moment, he hears your voice. urging him to open the door and let his mother inside, hear her out. with another sigh he reluctantly gets up from his seat and opens the door.

“do you need anything?” he asks bluntly, raising a brow at the older woman her mouth opened and closed, eyes looking everywhere but him. it makes him frown but he doesn’t dwell on it for long.

ei cleared her throat and gestured if she could come in. scaramouche relented. 

“i’m glad the kimono still fits you,” she finally says. “blue suits you better than purple.”

“thank you…” he quietly mutters, ignoring the sudden spike in his temperature.

“before you leave, i wanted you to have this.”

a feathered ornament was placed on his hands and he felt the wind get knocked out of him. he’s suddenly taken back to the old backyard where he and a younger boy played under the big sakura tree that housed their little base.

scaramouche bitterly smiled and twirled the ornament in between his fingers. “i thought you threw it away.”

ei frowns. her hands smoothing out the creases of his white nagagi and his haori. “you treasured that little feather, how could i possibly throw it away.”

he doesn’t say anything more and lets his mother fix up his appearance. she helped him readjust the kakuobi on his waist, brush out his hair, and even assisted him in making the red eyeliner he always wore be even.

“is [name] at the venue already?” he asks as he boarded the car, waving goodbye to nahida at the porch.

“i assume they are,” miko answered as she buckled the seat belt. “be sure to make up with them alright? all of my hard work in getting you that kimono from chiori would be wasted if you don’t.”

scaramouche rolls his eyes and looks out the window. he can’t help but frown at the feeling that’s swimming in his guts. something bad is going to happen–he was sure of it.

– –

the venue was obnoxiously – in his mind– decorated, but it was overall decent. in the distance he could see some of his classmates (re: friends) on the dance floor. when aether’s eyes caught sight of him, the blonde boy immediately waved him over but scaramouche only ducked under his hand when venti wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“get off of me!” he protests and tries to run away but a tanned hand dragged him back to the dance floor.

“come on man,” sethos grins at him. “let loose a bit!”

and that’s how scaramouche got dragged all over the venue with his little band of misfits. xiao and albedo were chatting by their table, the purple haired boy threw his middle finger up when albedo stuck out his tongue at his misery while xiao only rolled his eyes in amusement. the twins were by the dj requesting songs and heizou was on stage performing with childe.

scaramouche sighed for the nth time and let a small smile slip out. he only rolled his eyes when venti tugged at his cheeks and when charlotte took a photo of them. for the entire night, he let himself enjoy everyone’s company, all the while, keeping an eye out for you.

“scara, look over there.” itto nudged him and pointed across the room.

his heart suddenly started racing when he saw your figure slip away behind the gymnasium doors.

“was that [name]?” lumine asked, her brows furrowed. “should we go follow them? it’s raining pretty heavily...”

rain. scaramouche felt his feet run towards the doors, ignoring the shouts of concern from his peers. it was raining tonight. he couldn’t shake the growing dread that gripped his heart as the rain poured down. 

the raindrops felt like small bullets that penetrated his skin. he was in pain and he didn’t know why. his mind kept screaming at him to run, and run, and run, but he didn’t know where he was running to. to catch up to you? no. that’s wrong, he is trying to catch you, so yes. maybe?

“you’re almost there.” a voice that sounded like yours echoed and everything went white.

scaramouche was suddenly inside an all too familiar room–your music room. there was a piano in the middle where you sat on the stool, the giant window in front of you was left open. the white curtains flowed with the wind as he tentatively tried to take a step closer.

“you know,” you start, fingers pressing onto the keys to play a familiar tune he knew by heart. “you never really told me what you titled this piece.”

“how is that relevant now?” he snapped, voice raising in volume. why did he sound so frustrated? why did this feel so familiar but strange at the same time?

“i guess there are some things you’ll never get to know, huh?” your tone was sad, but accepting.

you stop playing at the part he composed for you.

“why did you stop?” his voice turned shaky, the panic settling in his gut.

you look back at him and smile. “you don’t need to be too hard on yourself you know.”

“hey!” he shouts, chasing after your vanishing figure. when he tried you catch your wrist, it suddenly turned to smoke, inevitably slipping through his fingers. he felt his heart drop when he looked to see you standing in front of the giant window.

“you need to go now, kuni.”

“[name]!” he cried, desperation clawing at his chest.

you flash him one last smile. 

“don’t leave me alone!”

and then he was back outside under the harsh downpour of rain. his hands meet the pavement hard, he felt the pain shoot up all the way to his head but he didn’t care. this was too familiar–too painfully fucking familiar. his breathing started to turn shallow, vision blurring with his tears as the rain continued to pound down on him, drenching him straight to the bone.

give up.

he refused.

give up.

he refused.

give u–

“kuni?” 

he looks up from the pavement and he sees you there, across the street. under the bus stop with your hand under the rain. there were tears on the corners of your eyes as you realized that it was him.

you laugh in disbelief and rub at your tears. “you came all this way, for me?”

“you idiot,” he curses at you as he stands up. “i wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t left. i still want that dance!”

scaramouche felt his smile slip away when a flash appeared in his mind– a warning, a memory, an inkling feeling that something bad is going to happen.

“don’t!” 

but it was too late. he willed his feet to stand up and help you. save you like you did to him. what went wrong? everything was fine–he was talking with his mother again, he can play the piano without having the urges to jump off a cliff, he had friends now, he had you. so why did everything start clicking into place in his mind, as if this was how it’s supposed to end? 

am i too late? he asked himself as he reached a hand for you. everything was too slow, he caught every expression that went across your face that was painfully illuminated by the yellow headlights. 

will the last time you played piano together truly be the last?

“why are you smiling…?” he asks, voice breaking in disbelief.

but if that truly was the last time, then how will you find out that he named the piece after you?

“why are you doing this to me!” he shouted, voice echoing in the empty streets.

he didn’t quite pick up on what you said the last time you two played in the music room. it was something along the lines of “you’re so mean.” or “why won’t you tell me?” but those don’t feel quite right. why couldn’t he remember?

“don’t leave.” he pleaded, just above whisper.

why didn’t he pay enough attention?

you once told him, “the greatest movies are never made.” but he often wanted to counter them with “but here you are in front of me.” will he never get the chance to tell you that?

ah. 

now he remembers.

the words you said that day, it was….

“i love you, kunikuzushi.”

– – 

beep. beep. beep.

so this was it? he asked himself as he stared at his hands. they were bandaged and bloodied. the heart monitor’s rhythmic beeping made his ears ring, feeling each beep drill itself into his skull as the doors opened and a flood of nurses and doctors rushed in.

the mask over his lips continued to fog up with his labored breathing, adding to that suffocating feeling inside his chest. everything was too much– too loud, too bright, too real. he wanted to leave. he needed to see you. but his vision blurred as his body gave out, collapsing back on his bed. was he dying? but didn’t he already die? this didn’t make sense.

a warm hand gripped his arm. when he turned to look at the person he felt the last flickers of hope in his heart die out. it wasn’t you.

there by his side was his mother, eyes blown wide and breath shaky as she tried to calm her breathing. she looked so strange, that frazzled and panicked look in her eyes didn’t belong there. she was supposed to look stern, strong–unyielding, not this fragile, worried mother.

“[name]...” he whispers. still clinging onto that small shimmer of hope.

“i’m so sorry, kunikuzushi.” ei’s voice brokes as she hung her head low, tears dropping to his arm. 

“oh.”

the word slipped from his lips, barely audible. so it was a dream after all. 

– – 

home didn’t feel quite like home without you. even more so as his acquaintances (re: friends) helped him store everything in boxes. the twins were arguing over something, xiao and albedo’s little sisters were playing in one of the spare rooms, childe and itto were competing to see who could carry the most boxes, and his mothers were helping move his piano.

scaramouche ended the call with a breath of relief. he pocketed his phone and stared blankly at the sealed cd in one of the boxes. ei told him it was found on your body on the night of the accident. he frowned at the memory but picked up the cd nonetheless.

nahida told him he had run off in the middle of prom when his mother arrived. you chased after him and the both of you unfortunately got into an accident. the dreams–hallucinations maybe– were created by consciousness to cope with the guilt, his psychiatrist said. zhongli said it would be best to distance himself from anything that reminded him of you, but how could he? not when every turn he took you in this small town you were there.

ripping the plastic and placing the cd in his worn out cd player, he skipped through the songs. a smile creeping up his lips when he realized you finally got it right. you burned the cd with songs he actually liked.

“hello…? is this thing working?”

scaramouche stopped. so did everyone present in the room when they heard your voice. from the corner of his eye, he saw miko try to approach him but ei held her back. for the nth time in the past 8 months since he woke up, he felt grateful for the woman.

“it’s flashing red so i’m just gonna assume it’s recording. if it’s not then this is gonna be very, very, embarrassing.” you laugh and paused. “i’m not really sure why i’m doing this. maybe it’s because i’ve been having this strong sense of deja vu? it kinda keeps me up at night, y’know? the thought that i won’t be able to tell you, so here i am, recording just in case something bad happens.”

he winces at your keen intuition but he makes no effort to stop playing the recording.

“it’s… been hard. seeing you in so much pain, i mean. it just became harder when we grew up and all i could do was just… watch. i didn’t know how to help. i was there, but it never felt like it was actually enough. was i doing enough, kuni?” you chuckle bitterly. “i never got why you wanted to be called scaramouche. names are an important part of someone’s identity, so i kinda get why you wanted to be called something else, but i don’t think i’ll see you as someone who isn’t kunikuzushi. sorry about that. maybe i’m also a bit stuck in the past, like you.”

he feels ei sit beside him, guiding his head to lay on her shoulder as your voice continues to echo throughout the now empty house.

“i hope in the future, you aren’t so hard on yourself and you continue playing the piano. seeing that spark in your eyes again, though almost always momentarily, makes me really happy. i felt a part of me become jealous. i never liked piano that much; i only ever played it because you liked it. i felt a little bit left behind. i don’t know. i-i just thought, you’d be stuck with me in this gray area for a little longer.” your voice started to shake. “i felt really sick and guilty when i started to hope you’d fail the audition. i’m so sorry about that. you were working so hard, and that made me want to work hard too! so i started practicing without you. i asked furina to mentor me, and oh boy, was she strict.” you chuckle. “but it was worth it. seeing that look of bewilderment on your face when i played nuvole bianche for auditions was really cute! i don’t think i’ve seen that expression on your face before.”

“w-whoa, whoa why is the red flashing slowing down?! is the recording gonna end?!”

he laughs at your panicked state. fiddling with the cd case in his hands.

“well okay then, i’ll wrap this message up. kuni, i’m so glad i met you when i climbed over our fenced gates. i’ll never forget that confused look on your face when i jumped over it and landed in your backyard and just, started listening to you play. you know, i was very sure you’d call your mom and have me kicked out.” you chuckle and take a deep breath. “i like you, you know. like very, very much and not in the friends type of like. for the longest time, i’ve had the biggest crush on you. i’m surprised you didn’t notice! hell even xiao figured it out and he’s the densest person i know!”

scaramouche turns to glare at xiao who only shrugged his shoulders.

“but yeah, i like you. i can’t really make a grand confession, i suck at words. if… if you really want to know how much i like you, then come over to my place and i’ll show you this piece i made for you! i don’t know what to title it yet but i’m thinking about “kabukimono’s finale.” oh crap the red flashing is gone now! okay, okay, bye now kuni! and please don’t be too hard on yourself okay? remember,” you pause. “i love you.”

and like that, the recording ended. scaramouche sat there on the floor with his mother for a long time. everyone had finished moving his stuff out and all that was left were his piano and the cd player in front of him. slowly, he closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. 

“thank you,” he says in a quiet whisper. “for being here, i mean.”

ei smiled and patted down his hair, still using her shoulder as his makeshift headrest.

“you’re welcome.” she replied with a kiss to the crown on his head.

he carefully placed the cd back in its case and tucked it into a box labeled “[name].” standing up, he takes one last look around the house.

“thank you,” he whispered once more. scaramouche could have sworn he saw you turn to look at him from the piano stool to flash him a smile and a small wave. the light reflecting in your eyes reminded him of the filtered sunlight that slipped through the cracks of that giant window in your music room. he wonders if this was real or just a final farewell his mind conjured up to seal the gaping hole inside his chest. but maybe it didn’t matter.

he isn’t quite sure if you understood the weight of both your words, but they were enough. the house is quiet again, but not nearly as lonely as it felt after he woke up. there was a feeling of peace in the silence, like a final note that’s still lingering just long enough for the melody to be completed. 

as he walked out of the house, leaving the boxes for the movers to move, scaramouche felt a sense of peace wash over him. the pain and guilt of losing you will never really disappear, but he had to walk down a path without you sooner or later. but for the first time since that accident, he felt like he could finally let go of the past. 

step after step as he crossed the road and further away from his childhood home, he smiled– a small bittersweet smile. this won’t be enough to ease the pain but it was the beginning of something new. and for now, that was enough.

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