Kokonoi Headcanons - Tumblr Posts
Leia (Wife! Akane x Painter! Kokonoi x Painting! Inui)
Angst
Word count: 1.37k
(Inspired by Luka Megurine-Leia)
His wife died. Her body was reduced to nothing but ash the unfortunate incident that nobody had predicted. He never hated flames more in his life. He despised them. More than that, he despised himself for being powerless. He tried to save her. Like a hero on the battlefield, he ran to her, not caring if his skin burned, not caring if his property is destroyed, not caring about anything. He just wanted his wife to be safe and sound.
The Gods surely hated the man. Somebody had cursed him. If they wanted they could've taken him away but they chose to make him suffer. Maybe he didn't deserve happiness. Maybe he was the worst kind of scum. He was there sitting outside the ICU, hoping that everything will go back to the way it was.
"I'm sorry, She is dead," One of the doctors had informed him. He stood there looking at the white walls with a blank face. He did not believe that she died. The doctor was lying to him. He was jealous of him. How can Akane die when he could still see her right next to him?
Kokonoi came back to his cabin. It was a place where he would paint his pieces. He was known for his talent, he was young and had a vision that artists hold to make themselves known to the world. He could feel it, his Akane was right here. She just needed a physical form. How can he give her that?
After a lot of thinking, he came to the conclusion that he would make a painting of his wife. That way, he could look at his wife, talk to her, and stay with her. Kokonoi took this sketchbook and started jotting down ideas.
"No! No! No! this is not right!" He yelled in annoyance as he ripped the painting rigorously. The painting didn't look right, it didn't feel right. It was the imposter of Akane. His Akane was as pretty as a lily, as enchanting as the stars, as captivating as the snow, and as heartwarming as the new year's dawn.
After a painful year and a half. Finally, He drew a painting. He stood there in awe. What was this feeling? This nostalgia?
It feels like love. He fell in love. The painting was ideal, the best version of his love. The burn on the side of her head was an interpretation of the fact that his love was the prettiest even with imperfections. Her hair was slightly chopped, to show her delicate neck. Her transparent skin was as white as snow.
"This is it, Here you are with me, My love," Kokonoi said as he caressed the face of the painting. He ran his nails on the neck of his love as he was reminded of the first night of their wedding. Anyone would look at him and say he was indeed too deep in love. Almost unhealthy.
Let me feel you one more time.
Kokonoi had been telling a story about an annoying customer he had come across at work. He had been seated at the dining table with his meal in front of him. This painting was placed with the utmost care on the chair that was right in front of him. An exact plate of food in front of it.
Kokonoi felt as if it was the first time they met, in the library, where he felt tingly like there were butterflies flapping their wings in his stomach. This feeling is real. He was happy, he could feel his love's presence. He smiled brightly as he continued to talk to the painting about his days at work.
The painting wasn't living. He was a fool.
Let me touch you one more time.
"Where are you, my love?" He called out as he came back home from work. He embraced the painting at the sight of it. He knew that his love embraced him. He could feel his love's warm embrace, it had always been like that. He used to cuddle with her under the sheets vulnerable as he showered her with his love.
Surely, if he can touch and feel the things he knew before, the painting was indeed living. His lover was right next to him, right?
Let me see you one more time.
"Mr. Kokonoi has lost his mind. He tells us that his wife is alive and they are the happiest. I went to the funeral and also visited her grave. She is no more." One of his friends at work said. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but when he did he was furious.
First the doctor and now his friends. What is going on? He saw his love right this morning. There is no way she is dead. Who do those people think they are?
He lost himself too deep. No one can bring him back to the shore.
"My love, Open your eyes", He asked as he looked at the painting. The painting barely did anything. Kokonoi had tears in his eyes. No! he refuses to believe that his colleagues were telling the truth. His love is right in front of him. He wasn't crazy, he wasn't mad. He was just a lovesick fool who is sinking deep in love, that's not abnormal.
"Look at me, I beg of you, "He said as he cried loudly at the painting. Why wasn't it responding to him? He looked at it closely, the cardboard canvas felt nothing like skin, no butterflies, no flowers blooming in his chest. He can't feel any more but at least he can hear his love's voice, he can see her, smell her fragrance.
"If you can't look at me, I'll give you my eyes," He said. He took his favorite palette knife that his wife had once gifted him and gouged his eyes and offered it to his love. He will do anything for his love. He knows no bounds.
Let me hear you one more time.
"What have I done?" He asked himself in despair. He can't look at her beauty. The face that he sees every morning, every night, every time.
'Koko, it's alright,' He heard the sweet voice of his wife. Yes! everything is alright. You are here with me, I am here with you. Nobody will come between us. He can listen. He can talk to her. That's all he needs to survive. A sign, it doesn't matter if he can't feel her, touch her, or see her. As long as he had a sign, that his love is here. That's all he needs.
Let me smell you one more time.
"What's wrong? My love," He spoke once again. This time couldn't hear anything. Why? everything was fine before. Why was this happening to him?
"You gave me a sign last time, where are you now?" He called again. He smelled gasoline. It was the same smell like the last time he saw her. She was calling for him. He poured gasoline on the painting and himself before lighting a match.
He reminisces the flames, those darned flames that took the life of his love, and the smell of burning wood surrounding him. He couldn't see anything. He wasn't sorrowful, he was going back to his wife. He was happy, almost beaming in joy.
'I'm coming back to you, My love," He said his last words. A perfect ending where he dies along with his love. Sadly, when he went to the afterworld he didn't meet his love because his love was a mere painting.
People do outrageous things in the name of love. Even the smartest of folks fall prey to this damaging feeling. To him, he never once regretted falling in love with Akane. At the end of his story, he had been unfaithful to Akane. He failed to realize that 'His Love' and 'Akane' were two different beings. His painting was who he wanted Akane to be; not who Akane actually was.
Drawing of Koko's love.
A friend of mine pointed out to me that Koko kinda looks like a vampire and I cannot unsee it, wait until I show her Baji but meanwhile… should I write a Koko x reader vampire au?