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ryuichirou · 2 months

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Replies

More replies about recent stuff, ships, antis, etc etc, business as usual~ there are a couple (literally) of headcanons in this post too!

Anonymous asked:

I’m going to assume that the recent Lilidia comic is before they know that they’re online buddies and that Idia was the one who sent the shirt?

This one is related to a comic we posted on ko-fi today <3

And yes, Anon, you are correct! That was the idea behind the comic hehe. They were meant to meet offline for the first time this evening but they yet need some time to realise they’re looking for each other lol

Alright, now a couple of asks about the RookVil post from yesterday. I am very happy that you liked that one.

Anonymous asked:

“Distracted”…you mean by Niege?

By Vil in her beautiful dress of course

Anonymous asked:

ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH YOUR FEM ROOK AND VIL DEAR! OH THEY BRING ME SO MUCH JOY! THEY ARE SO BEAUTIFUL!~

Sorry for the caps but thank you hahaha it gave me energy

Also I was reading some of the asks and I just wanna say those Ortho/Malleus sounds so good! Shoutout to that guy and sorry for using this ask about it 🤭

Thank you so much, Anon!! <3 They bring me joy too, it always feels very self-indulgent when I draw them, especially as girls lol

Yesss this is such a good ship. Shoutout to the OruMal person! I’m glad they’re getting appreciation for their big brains…

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Fem Vil is DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN Mummy -sorry mummy- sorry –

Fem Vil is always either mummy or just a mum… well, technically this also applies to regular Vil lol Also, technically, she (and he) is a step-mummy or a step-mum...

I’m glad you liked it! <3

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Ortho x Malleus... Hmmm...you know I might get on that train, it's actually pretty cute the more I think about it and I'm just imagining a double date with Idia and Lilia and Ortho and Malleus, maybe even a triple date if we add Sebek and Silver

Ahhh, Ortho/Malleus and Lilia/Idia would be a very fun combo!! Sebek and Silver too… Sebek would get way too distracted by Malleus being with Ortho though, things would probably get a bit messy lol

Anonymous asked:

"Slenderman is scared to see Rook when he turns around" Rook truly is the most horrifying horror monster of all time lol. The non-human students would survive a horror setting simply because nothing compares to being hunted by Rook.

And sorry if you already answered this, but in your Prison au how do you decide who's a guard and who's a prisoner?

(this one is related to this post)

You’re SO RIGHT ANON LOL If they survived being around Rook for 3 years, they won’t be scared of anything. This is what a little bit of Rook Hunt does to a collective. Influencing people in a good way by being an absolute creep…

And to answer your question, the roles are pretty flexible: Katsu mentioned in this reply that they could be either one (both would work for a lot of them really), but some characters just feel more suitable for one role and not the other I guess? Plus, it implies their relationship with the characters around them. So, whatever option sounds more fun and could lead to a more interesting scenario.

Anonymous asked:

I know you mentioned in a previous reply that you don’t ship Jack/Epel often, but I would still love to hear any few headcannons you might have about them. I have one where Jack goes to Vil for advice on how to approach Epel in a romantic fashion since Jack would have a secret crush on him. Meanwhile Rook is probably giving very detailed advice to Epel (who also has a secret crush on Jack) on how to “properly tame your partner” and Epel just gets super confused and embarrassed

Sorry for the late reply, Anon!

Oh god I can practically hear Vil’s “ara?” when Jack goes to him for advice… What an experience for him, considering how close he is with both Jack and Epel, to suddenly have these two show some interest in each other lol

And it makes sense that Epel would go to Rook for that, and not really because of his hunter thing, but he is absolutely going to end up listening to a lecture about taming and recognising the signs of courtship behaviour… this isn’t even remotely going the way Epel thought it would…

I still don’t have many thoughts about them, unfortunately. But here is a couple of things that come to mind as I’m thinking about these two right now…

When their club activities don’t happen at the same time, they visit each other. Sometimes just to wait until the other one is done, sometimes to cheer a little (just a little though), sometimes just to hang out. But Jack tries not to do that often because Epel gets very distracted when he is around + his senpais tease him a lot.

Epel doesn’t always like how caring and sweet Jack is, sometimes it feels to him like he is being babied by him, but he does know that Jack has a wilder side (Vil hinted on it once because he knew Epel would feel that way), so now Epel tries to poke the wolf bear (that is Jack) from time to time to see if he would react.

Anonymous asked:

Idia, probably: What in the fifty shades of moe is this?

(this one is related to this comic)

Yeah, he had no idea stuff like this could happen to him…

Anonymous asked:

Had an encounter with an anti on a different app; their argument was that shotacons are creepy and how they talk about little boys are creepy. Good ole' Google tells me shotacon does not apply to TWST so Idk why they brought it up. And the only little boys are Cheka and Gidel. If they were genuinely referring to the main cast as little boys, maybe it's just me, but calling high schoolers that is weird. I didn't handle the encounter well, but thinking back it feels like they had no clue what they were saying. Their argument was about something completely different and had nothing to do with TWST if they even know what it is. The logic ain't logic-ing with these folks.

Yeah, technically there are no shotas other than Cheka and Gidel in TWST, but some could also count Ortho or even Lilia (Ace commented on him looking much younger than a 16 y.o., which all those people fucking ignore, as you might’ve noticed, because they’re hypocrites) and Epel, because while they aren’t of the needed age category, they’re rather small. And with Ortho people love to talk about how he is a 5 y.o., which is a lie lol

You are right that they don’t really know what they’re talking about. They never do, because the point of the conversation isn’t to make an argument and have a proper discussion, it’s to make the opponent sound so wrong, so appalling, so sick, that they come out of this thing feeling like the only beacon of moral excellence surrounded by gross perverts with zero self-control. When in fact they’re just uneducated enjoyers of spreading moral panic + emotional vampires lol

The thing is, shota and all the other “dead dove tropes” is a niche within a niche. People in general don’t understand shipping and our way of interacting with fiction, and even fewer people understand problematic tropes. It’s okay, it’s not for everyone. But it sure is a convenient reason to attack people!

#replies #headcanons

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wingsonghalo · 4 years

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A Miracle for the Dead: a HanaNene fic

Holy crap. This is my sixth HanaNene fic, y’all.

Spoilers ahead for up to Chapter 66 of the manga!! Go no further if you care about spoilers!!

This one came out of the following Discord conversation (I’m not posting all of it, but, y’know, just the beginning):

As you can see, @justwhyjustify-tm (Ara) and I started expanding on this idea, and before I knew it we were both writing fics about it! (Go read hers, too. You can find it here.)

Title: A Miracle for the Dead Pairing: Hanako/Nene Rating: T (for slight suggestive narration/dialogue) Wordcount: 6,378 Summary: If Hanako slept more often, he was sure a lot of his dreams would start out like this. But this was reality. Reality had consequences. He wasn’t sure he could handle some of those consequences. And so he fell back on what he knew best: Turning all serious topics into jokes, because jokes were easier than feelings. “But, I mean… sleeping together?” he quipped as he looked back up at her. “Usually I’d expect a few dates first, Yashiro.” She punched him in the shoulder, which was about the response he was expecting.

Trapped in Sumire's house in Number Six's boundary, Hanako and Nene are forced to confront several hard truths: They don't know how to get out of here, this futon is much too small, and feelings are very inconvenient. Also available on: Ao3 Support me on: Patreon | Ko-fi

Special thanks to Ara for being my partner in crime writing these Chapter 67 Wish Fulfillment fics, to the entire HanaNene Discord server for being so encouraging and sweet, and to @kittykatz009 for being the most supportive first reader ever!!

Without further ado....

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A Miracle for the Dead

Hanako never could have anticipated ending up here, in a small room in a stranger’s house with his human assistant, staring down at the single threadbare futon they were supposed to share.

They at least knew more about the situation than they had initially, not that that was saying much. Yashiro had told him all the new information she’d gathered after she had returned from her bath—the yorishiro seal on Sumire’s neck, her upcoming wedding with Number 6—but nothing they had discovered so far had been much help in developing an escape plan. Hanako’s Hakujoudai had bounced powerlessly against the empty air surrounding this place like they were in a giant bubble, and as far as he could tell, this little pocket of reality was closed off from everything else.

For the time being, they were trapped with this crazy lady who wanted to keep them as pets and had taken to calling him “Gon.”

At least she’d given them their own room, though calling it a “room” was rather generous. It was tiny, with thick fusuma paper walls, and smelled faintly of mildew and incense. The single ariake-andon lamp sitting in the corner of the room cast a flickering, faint light over the off-white walls, and while the tatami mat flooring wasn’t exactly hard, it still wasn’t all that comfortable to sleep on for an entire night.

But the alternative was squeezing onto that futon with Yashiro, and, well…

“I don’t actually need to sleep, you know,” he opened up his mouth at last, “being an apparition and all.”

“Well, it’s still refreshing, right?” said Yashiro as she peeled back the single sheet and inspected it. Her hair was still partially up after her bath, gathered in a haphazard, collapsing bun on one side that nevertheless still looked good on her, and the air around her smelled like strawberries and peonies. “It’s probably in our best interests to get some sleep, both of us.”

She had a point—he didn’t exactly relish the idea of waiting around for hours uselessly anyway. Even if he came up with an escape plan while Yashiro slept, he’d have to wake her up to explain it, and it was obvious that his human companion could really use the rest after all she’d been through today. Sleep would be the best use of their time. He knelt next to her, still hesitant. “I guess sleeping would make sense for us,” he conceded. His eyes moved over the plain futon, the single cylindrical pillow that was much too small for the both of them. If Hanako slept more often, he was sure a lot of his dreams would start out like this.

But this was reality. Reality had consequences. He wasn’t sure he could handle some of those consequences.

And so he fell back on what he knew best: Turning all serious topics into jokes, because jokes were easier than feelings. “But, I mean… sleeping together?” he quipped as he looked back up at her. “Usually I’d expect a few dates first, Yashiro.”

She punched him in the shoulder, which was about the response he was expecting.

“Owww,” he said as he rubbed it, though it hadn’t actually hurt very much. “I hope you’re not this violent in your sleep.”

“Not if you don’t give me any reason to be,” she told him with a quick glare, and then threw back the cover and wriggled her legs under it. Deft fingers undid the pins in her hair, letting it spill down her back in fragrant waves, and she laid down on her back. Her large eyes turned to look up at him. There was something searching, curious, in them. “Aren’t you going to lay down, too?”

He swallowed a little thickly. The light here was low, so the temptation of seeing her in her borrowed spring-green yukata—which was also slightly too big and therefore, ahem, more likely to shift or fall in unfortunate ways (or fortunate ones, if you asked Hanako’s opinion)—had been largely avoidable. But if he was pressed up against her? That may have been asking for trouble, or at the very least more punching. Glomming onto her in lighthearted circumstances during the daytime was all well and good, but here? When they were alone all night? For some reason, the idea of touching her in that same carefree manner now terrified him. “I-I could sleep on the floor,” he suggested, turning to reach for the oil lamp to extinguish it so she wouldn’t see the sudden color in his cheeks.

A hand darted out to grasp the bottom of his uniform’s jacket. “No,” said Yashiro, and though her voice was quiet and timid, there was something desperate in it, too. He glanced over his shoulder at her, but her eyes were fixed on the floor. “I… I want you here with me. Please.”

He stared, helpless. How could he possibly refuse that? “O-Okay...” He snuffed out the little lamp with his cold fingertips, plunging the room into black. Mentally preparing for a long and frustrating night, he lay down as well. This would be fine, probably. He just had to… lie there and not move or touch her. For about 7 hours.

This was going to be the worst.

For a few moments, there was silence. Hanako stared straight upward at the ceiling, though there wasn’t anything to look at.

“Hanako-kun,” said Yashiro’s voice in the darkness.

“Yes?”

“Half of your body is hanging off the bed.”

“Ah,” he said, as if just noticing this. “Yes. It does appear that way.”

“Are you afraid of me or something?” She sounded a bit offended.

Yes, he wanted to say. I’m very afraid of how I feel around you. “No.”

“I won’t headbutt you or anything,” she assured him, and turned on her side to face him. “I promise.”

Reluctantly, he moved a little closer, and he could just barely make out the shine of her eyes only inches in front of him. Though they weren’t touching, he could feel the warmth of her arm near his. The smell of flowers hovered in the space between them.

“You’re not sleeping,” he noted.

“Neither are you.”

How could he possibly sleep under these circumstances? There was no way they would be able to share that pillow, and the cover barely fit over both of them unless they were right up against each other. “That’s true.”

“Don’t you think it would help if you took off your shoes?” she pointed out. “I mean, I’ve never slept in shoes.”

“I like to be prepared to leap into action at a moment’s notice,” he excused himself. His inability to sleep right now had nothing to do with footwear. Also, removing his shoes hadn’t even occurred to him, so that really spoke as to how jumbled up his thoughts were at the moment.

She sighed, and he felt it against his cheek. “Fine, whatever you say. Well, I’m going to try my best to get some sleep. Good night, Hanako-kun.”

“Good night,” he said as she turned onto her other side to face away from him. And for another while, there was only more silence.

But then he heard a sound next to him that was suspiciously close to sniffling.

“Yashiro?” He sat up, alarmed, and saw that she was curled up slightly with her hands near her chest. “Are you all right?”

“Y-Yeah,” she said, though she sounded much too tearful to really be all right. “I’m sorry, I tried not to be, but… I’m kind of scared. It was easier to deal with when I could see everything and things were happening, but now that I’ve got to just lay here blindly and think about everything, I...”

“Don’t be scared,” he urged her, forgetting his self-imposed rule against touching her as he brushed some hair away from her face tenderly. “I’ll protect you.”

“I know you will, but… That still doesn’t make all these thoughts go away.” She shuffled over to face him once more, and he lay back down on his side to match. Her eyes were wide and sparkling with more tears. “Hanako-kun, I’m sorry to ask, but… would you mind, um…” He waited. “Would you mind h-holding me?” she finally got out.

Mind?

Well, no. Of course he wouldn’t mind. On the contrary, the idea was very appealing. Too appealing, in fact. Which was why he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

But Yashiro wanted her friend right now. She was frightened, overwhelmed, exhausted, and cut off from everything she knew, and she needed her friend’s comfort tonight.

He could provide that.

“Of course,” he said, and took her into his arms. His every instinct told him to spring away when her head nestled under his chin, her hair tickling his jaw. Her knees bumped against his. Her breath fanned against his neck, and he could feel her tears there, too. “It’ll be all right.” He wasn’t sure whether he was saying it to Yashiro or to himself, but either way, he stroked her silk-soft hair comfortingly. “You’re safe. Rest now.”

She lifted her head to look at him again, and he had been this close to her before, but god, it had never felt closer than right now. “Promise you’ll be right here when I wake up?” she asked, voice still tremulous.

He couldn’t help himself. Gently, he brushed his lips against her forehead. “I won’t leave your side,” he whispered.

He thought he saw her smile in the darkness, and then she tucked her head back under his again.

Yashiro Nene clung to something cold and dead like it was her only source of warmth in the world, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

And Hanako-san of the Toilet, the apparition in the unfortunate predicament of having to hold the girl he cherished all night, while never letting on that his affections were anything more than one friend’s desire to help another, lay perfectly still. Yashiro’s breaths were steady—in, pause, out. Her body was so warm and small. Her shoulders were slight. The top of her yukata had shifted over to one side to expose one painfully enticing collar bone. Her radish legs were already starting to tangle with his own, one of hers having shoved itself between his.

It would take a miracle for him to be able to sleep with her this close to him, he thought to himself, but miracles were things for living people.

Yet only minutes later, he found his eyelids drooping, and soon enough he had joined her in slumber, arms still cradling her against him.

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Nene woke only 2 hours later.

For a moment, she didn’t remember where she was. She knew only that she was feeling a strange combination of safe and cold.

But then everything from the day previous came flooding back to her, and she let out a small gasp at the realization that the reason she felt chilly yet secure was the ghost boy wrapped around her. Gingerly, she moved her head back to look around. The early morning light looked thin and watery through the shoji screen on the wall opposite the door. It was probably only about 4 AM. There was nothing else of note in the room, so she turned her attention back to the boy who held her in his arms.

Looking at him like this was strange. She’d never seen him asleep before. The seal on his left cheek was obscured, his head resting slightly off their buckwheat pillow—he’d evidently given her the whole thing (was that his idea of being a gentleman?). Nene couldn’t help thinking that he looked so much more human than usual. His bright amber eyes, usually gleaming with mischief or hardened with cold impassiveness, were closed, and she’d never noticed how long his dark lashes were until she saw them brushing his cheeks. His face… it was so gentle, almost childlike in its innocence. He did not look like the fearsome leader of the School Wonders. This was just a human boy trying his best to keep her safe.

When, she wondered, was the last time someone had been there to watch over this boy while he slept?

She found herself tracing the curve of one smooth cheek with her fingertips, making his eyelashes flutter slightly. The movement broke her out of her reverie, and she drew her hand back in shock. What on earth had she been thinking, just touching his face like that?! Talk about rude!

But if his reaction was any indication, Hanako did not mind, because the corners of his mouth had lifted, and he let out a contented-sounding sigh through his nose. Nene couldn’t help smiling at that. Snuggled up with her like this, Hanako-kun really did look… cute.

Is Gon your lover? Sumire’s words rang in her head again.

She felt a renewed blush spread across her cheeks. Of all the things Sumire-chan had said yesterday, why did Nene keep thinking about what she’d said about her and Hanako? They had more important things to worry about! And on top of that, the idea was ludicrous. Lovers? Them?

As if in response to her thoughts about him, Hanako made a small noise in his sleep, turning his head slightly against the floor and hugging Nene closer to his chest. From an outside perspective, at this moment, it really would look like she and Hanako were… like that. The thought made her stomach flip-flop and her heart flutter a little.

It had always been a forbidden concept before now. He was dead; she was alive. They were just too different to be anything more than friends. It was with this in mind that she had always tried to keep a distance from him, shutting down any romanticized thoughts or errant daydreams. He’s not your type, she would repeat to herself over and over. He’s too short. He’s got eyes too big for his head. He’s a pervert. He’s from the 1960’s. He’s got too many secrets.

He’s dead.

Despite all this, she’d let it slip more than once that she had developed feelings for him anyway.

But Hanako never allowed her too close, either (emotionally, anyway—physically, he was only too happy to invade her personal space at all times). Nene had always thought this was because he simply couldn’t have those feelings for her, whether because he didn’t feel the same things as living people did or because he wasn’t attracted to her like that. It was for the best, she’d always reasoned. It wasn’t like they ever had a chance.

But then, if they didn’t have a chance, why did Sumire-chan and Number 6 have one?

For the first time, Nene had met another person who had a close, unique bond with a supernatural. And they were more than bonded—they were in love. Had been together since Sumire was young. Were about to get married.

How was that even slightly fair? To Nene, a girl close to her own death, a girl who had never known true love before, a girl who was too young to understand what she was feeling half the time, it felt like a slap in the face. Here she had been trying to come up with a thousand reasons that something couldn’t happen, never once giving a thought to aiming for a miracle like Sumire had.

It had made her question everything about her relationship with Hanako. If he could feel all the things mortals could, then maybe he also…

But she couldn’t get a read on how he felt. She knew he cared for her deeply, but how far did that extend? He was willing to have a whole world created for her to live in, put himself in danger time and time again, attack anyone who threatened to harm her, hold her all night if she asked it of him. Was that love? Or was it merely codependency, a willingness to destroy anything so long as his only deep friendship was preserved?

If she surrendered to the desires of her heart and let go of her deeply-entrenched denial, could anything really come of it?

She had no idea. And staring at his sleeping face wasn’t going to change that.

(It was still enjoyable, however.)

In retrospect, it was sort of funny—she had gotten to wear a light green yukata after her bath, but Hanako had had no choice but to sleep in what he always wore, loafers and all. She wondered if he ever made any changes to his wardrobe. Heck, she’d seen him make more changes to her wardrobe than his own. Did he really like this silly hat so much that he didn’t even take it off when he slept?

Or maybe it was just that he didn’t sleep very often.

Still, she thought, it couldn’t be comfortable. Slowly, carefully, she reached one hand up and pushed the hat off his head by its brim, her fingers touching his hair for only a moment. Even his hair was cool to the touch, she marveled as she set the hat aside, and after a moment’s hesitation or so, she impulsively brushed it away from his face. It was so soft, much softer than she’d ever thought it would be, and it spilled across his forehead like a tipped bottle of india ink. He really was just… a boy. A short, mischievous, brave boy whom she had seen laugh and cry and perhaps overindulge on plain donuts.

A boy who had saved her countless times and turned her life upside down.

A boy she loved.

She must have started stroking his hair absentmindedly now as sh lost herself in thought, because she was still doing it when she found herself looking down at opened golden eyes.

“Yashiro,” he said in a slightly sleep-roughened but amused voice, “what are you doing?”

For a good three seconds, she just stared at him. Her hand was still buried in his hair.

“N-N-N-Nothing!” she finally burst out as she flailed a foot away from him. Sure, that ridiculous amount of stammering would convince him. Nice job, Nene.

His eyes dropped to a smug sort of half-mast (or perhaps he was still just sleepy), and a smirk sneaked across his face. “Reeeeally,” he said. It wasn’t a question, so Nene didn’t answer. He propped himself up on one elbow and rested his cheek in his palm. “What’s the matter? Still having trouble sleeping?”

“N-No, I,” she squeaked as she grudgingly squirmed closer to him again, feeling a sort of retroactive mortification at the sentimentality of her thoughts from only moments before. “I just thought your hat would be uncomfortable to sleep in, s-so I took it off!”

His smile widened, and his eyebrows lifted slightly. “Don’t you think you should ask before you start taking my clothes off and fondling me, you naughty daikon?”

Her entire face burst with heat as if her head was suddenly engulfed in flames. In any other circumstance, on any other day, she would knee him in the stomach for such a comment, but as it was, she was still in an unfamiliar situation in a stranger’s house at the mercy of rules she didn’t understand. So her only reaction was to glare at him, and then bury her head into his chest and make a weak sort of embarrassed whining noise.

A chuckle rumbled against her ear as Hanako lay down fully again. Nene felt pressure on the top of her head, and realized he was resting his chin there, her own head fitting perfectly in the space under his. “Honestly, it felt really nice,” he said then. The timbre of his voice sounded quite pleasant when it was this close to her. “I didn’t mind.”

She could feel her face still burning, but a few moments later, when she was done hiding from him, she retracted her head. “Really?” she said as she turned her head upward to look at him and holy cow she had not anticipated how close his face would be to hers. They were separated only by inches, practically nose-to-nose.

Hanako must have been too sleepy to get flustered, or else he was enjoying teasing her too much to care, because he rested his forehead against hers. "Really," he affirmed.

Nene could feel her heartbeat all the way up into her throat, and her mouth fell open slightly. She wondered if he could feel the heat from her cheeks on his own cold ones, and if she should keep running her fingers through his hair. If his mouth would be cold, too. If he would also say I didn’t mind if she just… eliminated this tiny gap between them. This moment, laying together in pre-dawn’s light, his face so close to hers, his assurances that her touch had been pleasant to him still echoing through her head, felt like the right time.

But it wouldn’t be right to just kiss him out of the blue, would it? Surely she was supposed to let him make the first move. But would he ever make a move like that? He was so forward sometimes and yet so timid at others; mercurial in whether he would react with more teasing or with a blushing face.

Perhaps she should make it clear that she wanted something to happen? It might take a miracle to get him to understand, but… They deserved a miracle too, dammit.

It was now or never. Who knew when she’d get the chance to be alone with him again after this?

Let no one ever say that Yashiro Nene was a coward.

“H-Hanako-kun,” she breathed, and a jolt shot straight down from her heart to her core when he opened his eyes (large, shining, framed in dark lashes, the color of burnished gold, her mind thought feverishly) to meet hers. Never mind; if anyone wanted to call Yashiro Nene a coward, they could go right ahead. Her toes curled against the thin comforter. She couldn’t think of anything to say beyond his name, so she hoped her actions would speak for her. Anxiously, perhaps so quickly it was unnoticeable, she dropped her eyes down towards Hanako’s mouth, and then flicked them back up. She blinked them closed then, and tilted her head up, waiting.

This is up to you.

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Hanako froze at the sight of Yashiro's eyes fluttering shut tightly after murmuring his name. She lifted her chin just slightly, her lips parting, and waited for him to close the distance.

He took a mental picture of her precious face at this moment, cheeks stained red and eyebrows lifted and furrowed in a nervous expression. He wanted to hold this sweet face in his unworthy cold hands and never let it go. But he couldn't do that for a number of reasons. One, she was very vulnerable and scared right now, and if... this... ever happened, he'd prefer it to be under better circumstances. Two, did she even really feel that way about him, or was she getting caught up in the atmosphere, the two of them alone together in a strange place where the stakes were high and they only had each other to hold onto? Knowing Yashiro, it was probably the latter, especially considering she had been hoping for a first kiss during her so-called study camp.

Three, he was a ghost.

He laid a single hand on her cheek and just brushed their noses together instead.

Unfortunately, Yashiro's instinctive response to the light touch was to lift her chin in a sudden jerk, which brought their lips together violently anyway.

In an instant, they had sprung apart on either side of the futon, both stammering apologies.

"Whoops I totally didn't mean to do that sorry!" she blurted out in a rush.

"Oh no sorry I know you didn't, it—it's okay!" he replied, his lower lip stinging from where Yashiro’s teeth had accidentally grazed it. He wished he was wearing his hat so he could pull it down over his burning face.

She was fiddling with the loose obi at her waist. "I mean, it kind of seemed like you might have wanted to, um—"

He couldn’t deny that. There weren’t many moments he didn’t want to kiss her. But it wasn’t exactly a good environment for such a thing. He dropped his eyes down to the faded white-green tatami mats. "Well, r-regardless, I assure you it was not my intention—"

"Well,” she interrupted curiously, “why not, though?"

That gave him pause. His head whipped up and he widened his eyes, staring at her. She looked almost as surprised by the question as he was, her eyes the size of saucers and her mouth a wavy line. "B-Because I thought I wasn't your type?" he tried saying. It sounded quite weak.

"Well... I mean, yeah, th-that's true," she said. This also sounded weak. "B-But… was it bad though?" she said after a short silence, looking up at him gingerly.

"I think you were so startled that you bit me," said Hanako, "so..."

"Oh," she said, cringing as her cheeks darkened. "Sorry."

Another silence during which Hanako ruffled a hand nervously through his hair. It had felt much better when Yashiro had been doing it.

Eventually her timid voice spoke up again. "W... Wanna try again?"

He reeled back in pure shock, bracing his hands behind him on the floor."Wh-What?!"

"Never mind!" Yashiro squeaked, her cheeks aflame as she flailed her hands. "It was a joke! A joke!"

This was a lie, because Yashiro was terrible at jokes. "O-oh?" he said anyway. Mentally, he told himself to get a grip. Just being flustered wasn't any good in this situation! He had to diffuse things, retain his composure. Maybe even break the tension with an ACTUAL joke. Adopting a sly expression, he finally formed words: "So you don’t want to kiss me?” He slid forward across the floor, drawing closer to her and moving his eyes over her as if he could read her by sight alone. “Hmmmmm... You're not lying, are you?"

"No!" she lied, using her hands to shield her face from his gaze like he was the sun and she had just stepped out into it. "I-I just got caught up in things!"

"You know..." Throwing an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, moving her hands aside to look straight into her eyes. Usually, if he flirted enough, joked around enough, she got flustered or angry and would change the subject or scold him, and then they could forget anything genuine that might have happened between them. Since they’d first started to become friends, he had ironically been keeping his distance from her in this manner: by intentionally drawing her close and then letting her back away. It was how things had to be, wasn’t it? "...I was surprised before, but I really wouldn't mind kissing you again, if you want it that badly~"

Yashiro did not react in the expected way this time. She did not push him away, or headbutt him, or groan out a Hanako-kun, you idiot! She did not seem to want to let things end with a joke, because she instead took him up on his offer, pulling him down by his collar and kissing him fiercely.

She kissed like she was drowning and he was oxygen. Like she had thought of doing it a hundred times, even though Hanako was quite sure he was the only one who had thought of it that often. Like this would be her last chance to kiss anyone (maybe it was). Any thoughts of playing this off as a joke immediately vacated his brain. Against such an intense display of emotion, what could he do except reciprocate?

He matched her every movement, pulling when she pushed, pressing forward when she retreated, angling his head to meet her each time their lips came together. She muffled small noises into his mouth, quiet and restrained, but still they were the best sounds he’d ever heard. The brief pauses she took to breathe were torture. He might have thought it was all a dream, except he couldn’t recall any of his dreams since back when he had been Yugi Amane. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Liquid fire coursed through his bloodless veins. He pulled her against him, one arm still circling her waist while the other cradled the back of her head, fingers clenching in her long hair. No matter how close they were, it wasn't close enough, not while they were still two souls instead of one.

There was something pulling on the front of his clothing, and he glanced down—Yashiro was tugging on his uniform, willing him to follow her lead. He obliged her, leaning forward while she leaned back, her mouth moving against his all the while.

And then, when at last they rested, there he was, his arms on either side of her shoulders, torso separated by inches from hers, staring down at widened ruby eyes swallowed up in dark pupils, cream-and-seafoam hair splayed around her head. Trembling, cold fingers rested against one heated red cheek, and she turned her face slightly into his touch.

She was so beautiful that his breath caught in his throat and he froze in place.

"Hanako-kun," she whispered, still sounding out of breath as her chest rose and fell in turns, but just as she had before their first unfortunate attempt at a kiss, she left it at that and said no more.

He brushed her bangs aside, eyes moving over her like someone trying to memorize a work of art, like she was the stars and he wanted to chart all of them. "Yashiro," he murmured back to her.

Her eyes swam with tears, inexplicably. "I'm sorry."

Sorry? For what, driving him absolutely crazy right now? Not doing this ages ago? Making his thoughts get sappier than he thought humanly (supernaturally, rather) possible? "What for?"

"You didn't want to kiss me, but I made you," she sniffled. "I'm the worst...!"

He would have dearly loved to call her a dirty daikon, but she seemed vulnerable enough right now, so he just bent close to her and kissed her gently, shuddering at her warmth. "I did want to kiss you," he told her.

Her lips parted in surprise. "You did?"

He laughed, a bit incredulous. "Did you really think you were the only participant that whole time? I have to say, that's a little hurtful..."

"N-No, that's not what I meant," Yashiro responded, her face reaching astonishing new levels in the color red. "I thought you were only kissing me because you thought it would comfort me. Because I… I suggested it."

"Hmm..." He considered that, and then kissed the corner of her mouth. "If I was only doing it for you, why am I still doing it?" he challenged her, in as smooth a voice as he could muster.

"Because you feel sorry for me?" she guessed, frowning. "A doomed girl alone in an unfamiliar place, worried she may never get home? Who cried before she fell asleep as a captive in a stranger's house?"

"You're not doomed," he said firmly, his brow furrowing in reproach. "I promised I would save you." Really, if he didn’t have Yashiro’s faith in him, did he have anything?

"Right..." Her voice was quiet, her fingers absentmindedly running over his top button (which was really rather distracting). "You did..."

"Do you trust me to grant your wish?" he asked.

"Yes," she said immediately. "I… I’m not doomed. You're right."

Well, that was nice to hear once in a while. He moved to sit up, but she wouldn't let him, so he finally let his weight—negligible as it was, seeing as to how he was a ghost—rest against her chest, his legs still off to the side next to hers. "Yashiro?"

She was still staring determinedly at his top button rather than his face. "Sumire-chan said something, earlier."

Judging from the crease in her brow, it was something that had deeply affected her. "What was that?" he pressed.

"She said..." Yashiro paused a moment, biting her lip, and only continued speaking after a short silence. "…That I was just like her. And she asked if... if you and I were lovers."

His sputtering of "What?!" might have made more sense if he wasn't laying half on top of her after having kissed her until her lips were swollen, but it was a genuine reaction nevertheless. Was he really so easy to see through? (Well, he was a ghost, some snarky part of his brain said. Those did tend to be transparent.)

Yashiro chuckled a little at his response. "That's basically what I said. But then she told me that it can't be helped if you fall in love with a supernatural, even if it’s taboo. I didn't even know that other people..." But all the remaining words died before they could emerge, and she clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head a little. "She told me about how Number Six had been by her side since she was little. And when she was talking about it…" Her eyes welled up with more tears. "I couldn't help but be a little jealous. Jealous that she gets to have her shoujo manga romance while I..." Moist garnet eyes shut tightly, and a tear finally escaped.

Brushing away the droplet with his thumb, he spoke gently to her. "You'll get your chance at romance," he promised her, though the words felt like a sharp stake through his chest. How could he possibly watch her fall in love with someone else, as much as he had come to treasure her now himself? The prospect made his stomach sink like a stone. He wasn't one to hope for the impossible, but some tiny, infinitesimal part of him had always held out hope that maybe, by some unlikely miracle, she—

But miracles, he remembered, were for the living.

The smile she gave him was lopsided, a little ironic. "You silly apparition," she said. "Don't you get it? You are my shoujo manga romance."

"I'm what?" he wanted to say, but he couldn't, because Yashiro had pulled his head down to kiss him again, fingers sinking into his hair. This kiss wasn't passionate or desperate or frightened or euphoric like all the others. It was tender. Melancholy.

"You see," said Yashiro when she drew back again, "Sumire-chan was right. I... I couldn't help falling in love with a supernatural."

The words should have made him giddy. The girl he held most dear had just confessed her own love to him, moments after he had internally lamented that it would take a miracle for her to return his feelings. He should be diving down to kiss her until daybreak. He should be confessing undying (ha!) devotion to her and celebrating. But instead he felt a squeeze around his heart, and he swallowed thickly over the sudden lump in his throat. As much as he'd wished for her affection, he wouldn't wish his own on anyone. "Yashiro," he choked out. "You shouldn't—"

"I know I shouldn't," she cut him off. "I know it’s not supposed to be allowed. But it’s too late. And now that I've spent all this time with you, seen so many sides of you, now that I know what it's like to h-hold you and kiss you..." She sniffled as more tears rolled down her cheeks. "I can't imagine wanting anyone else but you, and it hurts even more than before."

He regretted kissing her now. It had been selfish of him. It had been cruel to both of them. What had he been hoping to gain? Even if he managed to grant her wish, they would never be able to be together. And Yashiro was right: the realization hurt ten times worse now that he’d had a taste of what it would be like to be with her. But even so—

"I love you." The words spilled out before he could stop them. "Yashiro, I love you so much it tears me apart. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Neither did I," she pointed out with a watery laugh, her hand covering his sealed cheek. The garnet eyes that looked up into his own were so soft it made him feel like crying, too. "I guess it really can't be helped."

He covered her mouth with his, and though these kisses were a bit more salty, they were also just as sweet.

"Hanako-kun, say it one more time," she urged him with a stifled yawn when they lay on their sides again, foreheads pressed together, hands clasped between them.

He knew what she meant. "I love you," he told her. "I love you so much." Every time he said it broke his heart a little more, but he would gladly shatter his worthless heart to pieces if it would bring her solace.

With a sigh, she snuggled against his chest just like she had hours earlier. "I love you too," she whispered, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. If saying it broke his heart every time, hearing it felt like having his heart put back together. "Now we should try to get some more sleep if we're going to escape from this place tomorrow."

It was impressive, the way she bounced back like this, going from crying about her helplessness to speaking of escaping together in such a matter-of-fact tone, all in the span of a few minutes. Hanako wished he had that single-minded determination sometimes. Burying his nose in her sweet-smelling hair, he breathed in deep with lungs that needed no air. "Yeah," he responded. He gave her hands a squeeze, their fingers laced together."We'll find a way. Through all of this."

And laying there like that, clinging to someone warm and alive, holding the only girl he had ever loved and who had ever loved him, he started to believe that finding a way really was possible.

Maybe miracles weren't just for the living after all.

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Thanks so much for reading! Check out my other HanaNene fics if you haven’t read them already, and hope to see you for more HanaNene next time <33333333333

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