/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>45485632 (24/-)
—
Snow should start to fall soon, the cold outside biting.

I look to my side at the handmade cradle illuminated by candlelight and softly smile. They sleep in there, wings up and hiding their faces, five blankets covering their tiny bodies. It's a struggle to fight the motherly desire to caress them, but I—hardly—persevere: Aki would be grumpy all day long tomorrow if I'd accidentally wake her up now. So I turn my eyes back to the pen and paper and resume writing. One letter is not enough, thus the many copies. Suzu's power would be handy for this, but she's already got a lot on her plate with that party.

Not like a teacher would get carpal tunnel anyway~

Still, as the menial work of copying the letter goes on, my mind wanders about the promises I've made. To change this village for the sake of my children and now for an entire new generation, which I'll teach when they can speak and walk… That's a lot of responsibility; doubtfully, it'll also come peacefully. But history has shown that the child abandoned by the village will burn it to the ground to feel its warmth—

A hissing projectile.

—I move, catching whatever passed through the cracks of my closed window with expertise, one hand shining with Danmaku… It was a plain piece of white paper, a tiny flame burning on one of its edges.

What the hell…?

I try to snuff it after licking two fingers, but it keeps on burning, not harmful to touch. I move it around, frowning—! The flame gets bigger when pointing in one direction and shrinks when pointing in the opposite direction.

Wait… This fire—

My heartbeat skyrocketed, its slivers of fire magic carrying a signature I knew very well, a trembling smile taking over just as acidic anxiety and fear rose from deep within my stomach, hands trembling and nape sweating. I've been mulling over and over how to approach her, how to apologize… It seems she's extended the olive branch first.

I look at my children—fast asleep; under a mountain of blankets; faces a healthy shade, wings brushed and cared for—then at myself—blue nightgown, barely going above thigh-line; blue socks—then at the paper…

… I run to the window, jumping through it and closing it, taking one last glance at my children before soaring to the skies, following the direction in which the flame burns brighter. The cold was merciless; memories of darkness and frigid water threatened to come to the surface and steal my breath away, but the flame dispelled the cold, and I grinned.

Mokou was never the patient type.

… Mokou…

I swallow dry, wrists quaking, eyes welling with tears before I clean them, entering the Bamboo Forest of the Lost, focusing on the flame—taking half the paper—to not get myself lost.

After some excruciating minutes of navigation, the dense thicket of bamboos gave way to a clearing illuminated by moonlight, a pond nearby glistering with the refraction of the snow and, nestled in the middle of it all, a table for two, a lit candlestick in its center and, sat, a very tense Fujiwara no Mokou, a foot rhythmically hitting the ground, hands together in a fist—almost a prayer—hiding her mouth. Her eyes opened wide—always of the intensest, most burning reds—and locked with mine. The breath she released as I slowly walked towards her carried enough relief to create a youkai out of thin air.

My eyes were of the same broadness, disbelief making my body itch. As I stopped behind the empty chair opposite hers, the card burned out, ashes spreading around. "I got your message." I simply said. She didn't seem to listen, looking me up and down, stunned—probably should've dressed myself better, but the rush to solve things, to have her back in my life and—

"O-Oh, um… yes. Sorry if it was non-intuitive; I was too afraid to talk to you and—" She gulps something, forehead glittering with tense sweat, rubbing her eyes with her thumbs. My heart races. "W-Would you like to sit? I made something for us…" Just now, I noticed a wooden box hidden behind her, covered in a white tarp.

I stare at Mokou. Her eyes are glimmering, expectant, and if I were closer, I bet I'd be able to hear a thunderous heartbeat just like mine.

I smile fondly. "Of course."

The moment I sit down and we stare at each other from across the table, she seems at her limit. "I'm sorry…" Tears roll down, the bravado she must've worked so hard on crumbles. If my heart beats any faster, I'll die. "F-For everything—I didn't know what was happening; I was so hurt by everything, blinded and didn't stop a second to consider there could've been more, Keine—I said terrible things—a-and—and—"

I grab her hand resting on the table, the intertwined words coming to a full stop when she stares at me and sees maybe the biggest smile I've ever given someone. The silence sings; our eyes on each other; the lake bathed by moonlight our backdrop.

She squeezes my hand back.

It's with a velvet-coated tone, unable to control my thin tears, that I lowly say, "… I've missed your food."