📛 133) High Mobility Artillery Rocket System (ハイマース) と アメリカ合衆国。
昨日、帰り道に 日向坂46の新譜を買って帰りました (未だ聴いてはいないのですけれど、ダビングだけは済ませました)。聴くのが楽しみです。少し重たみな俎板が欲しいです。それと、とんでもない新譜の知らせがレコード店から届いていて、あゝ予約しなくちやいけないかなって思いました。そろそろ夏服を引っ張り出してこないといけないのにって思ってはいるのですけれど、なかなか ゆっくりできないでいます。今朝は しゅんとした終わりが飽氣ない Creedence Clearwater Revival "Down On The Corner (実況録音盤)" 、Elvis Costello "The Whirlwind" 、Creedence Clearwater Revival "Don't Look Now (It Ain't You Or Me)" が掛かっています。
I wud like to request it that ok, may you write a Kirishima x loner! Reader?
a carp on the cutting board || eijirou kirishima.
* pairing: eijirou kirishima x loner!reader (gender neutral!)
* genre: fluff with melancholic tones
* words: 778
* warnings: reader being introverted/reserved/not good at making friends, slight themes of loneliness, kirishima is best boy AS ALWAYS, there’s a picnic scene and they feed fish, so many water metaphors pls
* a/n: wanna thank my bestie @toishi for beta-ing this!! i’ve been obsessed with koi lately. the title comes from the japanese idiom “俎板の上の鯉” which means “a carp on the cutting board.” basically, it’s saying that one has no say over their fate, like a carp waiting to be sliced on a cutting board. i think it ties into the underlying sad theme in this and!! koi are just selectively bred carp for their colors. so, in a way, reader kinda sees themselves as a carp compared to the colorful koi- but i’m looking too deep into this. make of this what you you will. i hope you enjoy!
“come, love, look at the koi with me,” kirishima beckons kindly. he sits on flat rocks bordering a small pond, legs wading calf deep into the water. his pants are rolled up to the knee, and he graces you with a kind smile. he outstretches a bento to you, wrapped neatly in pretty red fabric. you approach him, discarding your shoes and sitting next to him. your legs dangle in the water, a cool sensation embracing them, and you accept the lunch.
lunch with kirishima is always interesting. every day is never the same; he’s always guiding you to new places or texting you locations that are within a walking distance. today he told you to forgo your usual meal of curry and rice from the cafeteria and instead meet him here, a garden nearby you hadn’t known had a koi pond. the sun glints off the crests of miniscule ripples from the pond, obscuring the stones and vegetation through the translucent troughs of the water. there is not a moment of stillness in the water; it is as if it is alive and full of vivid colour. the colour moves around and reveals itself to be the koi fish populating the pond, maneuvering through invisible twists and turns in the water. you’re mesmerized by the sight, bento forgotten on your lap.
it almost makes you feel less alone.
both you and kirishima know why lunch is always different and why the cafeteria is such a dreaded setting. you can’t bear to talk to him about it. yet there’s a mutual understanding between you two, though one would typically assume kirishima’s vibrant, extroverted personality would separate him from your quiet, reserved one. looking at the koi then back at him brings a certain indescribable sadness to your eyes and for whatever reason, the words “i love you,” linger on the tip of your tongue. you hold them in, drown them down your throat, and smile gratefully at him.
“thank you,” is what emerges from the waves of your mind, the water that flows in the form of words from your mouth. he grins wide and it outshines the pouring sunlight on the two of you.
at first you felt guilty for bringing him away from his usual lunch with his friends - why should you pull him away from his friends because of your lack of them? - but he brushed those worries away with a shake of his head. he told you that one day, he’d introduce you to them when you’re more comfortable. he said that he enjoyed the adventure of lunch in a different place every day. and knowing kirishima, all of his words were genuine.
a red fish bristles against your ankle and it awakens you from your daze. you unwrap your bento and pull apart your chopsticks, murmuring a quiet “thank you for the food,” to kirishima and maybe the koi, then eat. he’s packed you a rice dish and an assortment of pickled vegetables, as vibrant as the pond before you.
this lunch is atypically quiet, thrumming with the water’s movements and sound of cicadas hidden in nearby shrubbery. the sun comfortably drapes itself over the two of you, nesting on your limbs and filling you with a not unwelcome warmth.
“hey,” kirishima says finally after you’ve finished your lunch. he nudges you a small pack of something. “i’ve gotten permission to feed the koi.”
you open the bag to see that it’s filled with pellets for the fish. following kirishima’s example, you lean towards the pond and extend your hand to the water’s surface, where a spotted fish has already approached. you let go of the food and it’s eagerly gulped up by the awaiting fish. time passes and you’re not sure if it’s fast or slow; like a stream, it constantly flows until one realizes it’s dried and gone. well, you could argue that time was measured by the fish pellets that slowly ran out unbeknownst to you until there were only five left. it’s less poetic that way, though.
the sun has dimmed its glow in the slightest by the time you pull your legs out of the water and kirishima mutters something about forgetting a towel. you pat him and say it’s okay, taking his hand in yours. you make your way out of the garden barefoot, rivulets of water on your legs and feet drying in the sunlight. you leave the lunch full in more ways than one; the sunlight has seemed to have filled you to the brim with an indescribable feeling. you thumb kirishima’s knuckles gently. if it’s love, you know you’ll never be in it alone.
March 2018: An oiran-dochu at the Edo Matsuri and Entertainment (江戸の祭礼と芸能) event at the Kanda Shrine. Here, the oiran is showing off her manaita-obi (俎板帯) to the audience.