Theme:Â Floofy angst
Note: I have only written these two once it’s practically illegal atp (and technically it was AkaYuki not HakuYuki…)
so i must write them more
ALSO WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY PICTURES OF THEM WHAT
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From the first time he had set her eyes upon Koyuki’s pitiful figure, he had found her looking more like a flower than someone on the verge of death. She was small, hunched over, her hair sticking onto her forehead from sweat. Yet she looked like an angel, her wide eyes filled with the want of freedom from this illness set upon her. She claimed herself a burden, but she was not in the very least. In fact, Hakuji was convinced he himself was one for he only bore upon the sweet household a criminal.Â
Koyuki’s voice was quiet, often tampered by coughs. But it came out melodic, almost, and she would whisper sweet thank you’s to him every day, praising him with how well he could fight occasionally, when she was well enough to be transferred to the corner of the training room, watching Hakuji and her father exchange blows.Â
She was a soothing presence in Hakuji’s mind, putting him at ease despite his job to be helping her. She seemed sorry to be putting such a task to him, to keep her alive. But he found it more like a reason for his own life, as if he had a place in the world. To heal those whose souls were so pure but have been born into bodies unable to support themselves. He felt like he was doing an honor to the world, keeping her alive, helping her live another day.
He brought her flowers sometimes. Usually to brighten to room, make her feel not on the constant verge of death. She liked flowers, would take the fragile plant and breathe in the sweet scent of nectar, rewarding him was a smile more saccharine than any rose could be.
He would come with a small bundle, place them in a vase on the table where they put her food and medicines. He would pick the best one from the little bouquet, come over to her and slip it behind her ear, a neighbor for the row of snowflakes keeping her hair in place. She would laugh, a quiet tinkling sound, and wrap her arms affectionately around his neck, pull him into an embrace. He would hold her as if she were a china doll, fragile and precious. For she really was both. And he feared he may break her one day by accident. He was always so careful, so gentle.Â
Koyuki had noticed this, pointed it out. She told him it was unlike his usual presence, firm and harsh. She said she admired how well he could control himself, how he could practically two people, so soothing and tender with her yet decided and fierce otherwise. She loved him. And as much as he preferred to ignore, he had fallen for her as well. He did not want to fall in love. Didn’t want to grow close to anyone. But it was too late for that, he knew it. They were already too deep into this friendship—this relationship—and he was simply too attached to the family by now, he couldn’t leave.Â
It was a mistake. A big one. But what would go wrong? What, when her health was improving so perfectly, when his strength was growing, when…
Then she was better, she was well. She could stand, she could run, she would do whatever she minded. For a moment then, Hakuji wondered. He wondered if, now that he had no use, they would throw him out. Tell him to go find a life for himself, by himself. He was nearing eighteen, after all.Â
Yet they welcomed him. They allowed him to stay, they encouraged it. They wanted him there.Â
Wanted. It was a strange word. To be wanted. Nobody had ever wanted Hakuji before. He was troublesome, he stole things and helped with nothing. He inflicted fights, was explosive, nobody had ever wanted that. But Koyuki, Keizo. They… wanted him.
So he stayed. He got engaged with her, with Koyuki. He loved her. He truly did, with all his being. He promised to be at her side always, to hold her hand, to bring her flowers. He would be there for her, he would protect her from anything that would try to hurt her, he would do anything for her.Â
His father’s grave sat in a desolate graveyard. It was the only one in the town, people rarely cared much to bury the dead. They were tossed aside, left out to rot. But Hakuji had dug this one himself, used his own hands and lifted his father slowly into the hole, patting down the dirt. He had carved the rock he had set there painstakingly, had nestled it above his father’s head, bringing flowers for him from time to time.Â
Sometimes he would bring the flowers he’d gotten for Koyuki, once they had wilted slightly. He didn’t like putting things to waste, liked using everything until it was no more. So he put the flowers on his father’s grave, letting them mix with the dirt, freshening it.Â
He brought fresh flowers this time. White and red, ceremonial colors of a wedding. He placed the bundle neatly on the grave, sitting down in front of it. He clasped his hands together in a quick prayer before speaking, telling his father of his upcoming marriage. He was ecstatic, feeling like he could finally, truly be content with his life. He felt like he could live, now. And be happy about it.
He rose as the sun set, intending to find more flowers for Koyuki. He found a field, picked the prettiest of the flowers. But even the most beautiful, most precious of the roses lost their petals and wilted eventually. Even angels like Koyuki died.
The flowers were no longer newly picked, but he still gave them to Koyuki. He had spent hours carving out hers and Keizo’s grave markers, redoing them if he made even the slightest mistake. It was his fault, after all. It didn’t matter how many times it took, this had to be perfect for them. It was the least he could’ve done.
He wound the flower’s stems around each other, creating a crown. He placed it on top of the stone, on top of the grave which held his dear Koyuki’s body, nestled in the earth. Tears blurred his vision and he couldn’t think. Couldn’t fathom what he had done wrong, why the world kept taking from him. If he was destined to be alone.Â
Rage overtook his grief as suddenly as one could express and he sought to find those who had taken the last two people he could ever care for. He fought blindly, letting the hot, red, boiling anger guide him. Until he stood admist the bodies of those who had wronged Koyuki, those who used jealousy as a justification, those who had killed the two most perfect people in the world. They were selfish people. But then again, so was Hakuji. Despite somehow avoiding the consequences of his own stupidity, he still cursed the world as if he was the one being hurt.Â
He alone should’ve been killed. He should’ve left Koyuki and Keizo alone, should’ve respected his father’s wishes to not steal. All of it was his own fault. All of it.
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« Word count: 1239 »
well that took a lovely turn (i loved writing this a lot oml)
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