#i was inspired by a haiku i made

[madrone33]

Short poem I wrote at, like, 1 am lol. Might add more verses later :)

Oh Ignorance!

How simple it is to live there!

To walk those halls with footfalls steady and sure

Expecting to see what you know

Seeing what you know to expect

And finding both are true

For though you walk the floors

Your eyes don’t linger

And you don’t see

That the images on the walls

Are drawn atop glass

That what you stand upon

Is only there because you haven’t looked down

But you cannot see

For you do not look

And why would you

When you already know what to see

And already see what you know

And so you walk the halls with a mind steady and sure

Finding only the simplicity

Of what you know and expect

[rizzlegukgak]

i got myself so worked up over that poem post because i made the mistake of looking into the notes

[crispycreambacon]

Self-Made Soul Stitching

Their New Life Back Together

Isn't This A Sight?

— Self-Made Soul, A Haiku by Me —

Kicking off February with non-binary Professor art!! I just wanted to make trans art featuring my favourite he/they icon y'know-

Special thanks to SJ Objio for the paper texture and @xiaobunnn for inspiration 'cause I've seen so much of his "stitching as a metaphor for top surgery" art that I accidentally emulated it lol

ALSO LOOK!!! MY WONDERFUL FRIEND BIRBO PRINTED A POSTER OF THIS FOR ME!!!

My dad and mom reacted to the poster with "Wow! So cool!" and "Wow that's very nice!" respectively :]

[double-0h-no]

Lo and behold, my very first collaboration: A haiku created with the lovely @l219tj

Bean Hands Haiku

My beans in your hair

No, not beans, I mean my hands

Doesn't that sound better?

(just when I thought I didn't have a knack for poetry)

(this little bit of silliness was inspired by this little typo in our prompt exchange)

(thank you again @l219tj, this really made my morning)

[darcylewisbingohq]

1. driftwood | bonfire | pyromania

2. sweater weather | a dark and stormy night| 10 days of rain

3. centaur | Sleepy Hollow, NY | bakotsu

4. Halloween virgin | Halloween veteran | Queen of Halloween

5. hidden lagoon | The Pettenedda (well monster) | a bunyip in the billabong

6. dungeon | hidden away in Hydra’s sub-basement | subterranean terror

7. supernatural harbinger (Vardøger) | bilocation (doppelgänger) | the Gothic double (Jekyll v. Hyde/Banner v. Hulk)

8. the Hanging Wood | Witches Castle | the Black Forest

9. Chinese Lantern | vampire fruit | Ghost Gum

10. sheet ghost | haunt | ghost POV

11. phobia | fear made flesh | [insert your personal fear here]

12. alienation | Hill of Crosses | “Waltzing Matilda”

13. mutation | sentient Hydra experiment | interviewing a monster

14. Sasquatch | Wild Man of the Woods | Silvanus (similar to a satyr or faun)

15. tarot cards | crystal ball | ouija board

16. a sling ring | a mystery portal | Doors of Death

17. immortal enemy(ies) to lover(s) | succubus soulmate | fiends for life

18. feline | witch’s familiar | thylacine sighting

19. dragon | La Gargouille | kaiju battle

20. enthrall | ‘like a moth to a flame’ | Mothman

21. a virgin sacrifice | fresh flesh | Drop Bear

22. cider festival | beer garden | Oktoberfest

23. rum runner | mooncusser | Half Moon Bay

24. Jersey Devil | Monster of Ravenna | La Llorona

25. costume | disguised naiad | swan maidens

26. (pre)deceased | axe murder | Fall River, Mass.

27. howl | werewolf | Forest of the Wolves

28. runic carvings | curse | a cult of witches

29. Blood Moon | The Hunt | the Wild Hunt/Santa Compaña

30. catacombs | reliquary | ossuary church

31. rich people Halloween party | a Gothic masquerade | Hydra’s Halloween Ball

Alternates

Because the Darcy Lewis Bingo Mod Team are writers and artists ourselves, we understand that not all prompts are created equal and, therefore, are not necessarily inspiring to all creators. So, for 2024-25, we are including a list of 10 fun, spooky alternate prompts you’re welcome to use on any day you get stumped by the creator prompts we’ve supplied above. Each alternate prompt may only be used once, however, so use them wisely and don’t take them for granted. These are not easier prompts by any means! And don’t forget that all of your Promptober fills must incorporate our beloved Lady of the Astrophysics Lab, Dr. Darcy Lewis!

A1. a 2-sentence horror story (req.: cannot be longer than 2 sentences & must tell a complete horror story)

A2. Darcy’s First Halloween

A3. a Halloween Darcy drabble (req.: exactly 100 words)

A4. the Avengers go out on Halloween Night in New York City

A5. an onomatopoeic story or poem (req.: must include at least 13 onomatopoetic words)

A6. a Darcy retelling of the Headless Horseman (or your favorite classic spooky story)

A7. an acrostic poem about Darcy, the Avengers, and Halloween

A8. The Mummy AU

A9. an autumnal Darcy haiku

A10. record a podfic (with permission) of a friend’s spookiest Darcy fic

With our alternates, this means every player begins this round of Promptober with a whopping 103 spooky season prompts. We can’t wait to see what you make of them in the year to come. Have a spooky time creating, Darcy Friends!

Promptober 2024 is a list of 31 this-that-or-the-other prompt themes handpicked by our mod team to cross international borders for creators to choose from to create spooky, oogie, or hygge fanworks for the autumn & Halloween season (or for Scary Christmas, Valloween/St. Guillotine’s Day, Half-Halloween, Gay Halloween!, Summerween, Scary Christmas in July, or Autumn Down Under for our Aussie creators). We continue to be not your mom so we’re not here to tell you when or how long you can celebrate your Spooky Season. Here at Darcy Lewis Bingo HQ, all your spooky holiday lifestyle choices are valid. In fact…

Important Dates & Deadlines

Promptober begins on August 3rd, 2024 this round, but you know how we feel about deadlines. 🔪 So, for this round of Promptober, we’re doing away entirely with hard deadlines and we mean it! You have from August 3rd, 2024 until our next Halloween event begins, and even beyond that, if you like! Though we do strongly recommend wrapping up this challenge before the next spooky challenge begins, this event remains open basically as long as this bingo exists. No pressure to complete, ever, just inspo and encouragement. 🧡

Promptober Challenges

Promptober Mini Challenge: choose and complete fannish works for any 13 of the prompts from this list for our mini challenge. Creators may choose 13 prompts from the list of prompts—any 13 prompts at all!

Promptober Mega Challenge: choose and complete fannish works for 31 of the listed prompts for our spooky main event! Creators may choose any 31 of the total 93 prompts listed to complete this event.

For an extra personal challenge, you may limit yourself to only posting a fanwork inspired by one of the prompts listed by the number that corresponds to each day of October for every day of the month all month long, but it’s absolutely not required for completion of this event. We want you to succeed and create, and to share new Darcy works, so our goal is always to support you in your fannish creative endeavors and make that as easy as possible.

*If you post every day in October as a personal challenge, mention us @darcylewisbingohq in your tumblr posts to let us know you’ve posted a new work or update so we can reblog your daily posts in as close to real time as possible. Once we’ve left a like on your post, rest assured: that means it’s in our queue, just waiting its turn to be featured on our blog.

Promptober 2024 Guidelines

Promptober fills must prominently feature our beloved Lady of Astrophysics, Dr. Darcy Lewis!

Promptober creators have all of our 2024-2025 round to work on this event! If you want to work on it the whole year until we release the next spooky season event, we encourage you to do that. If spooky challenges are particularly your jam, we’d love to see what you do with ours when you’ve got the whole year to tackle it!

entries—Your fanwork is NOT required to use the prompt exactly as it appears on this list. Prompts need only inspire your fanwork, whether they appear word for word in it or not. However the prompt inspires you is correct, as far as we’re concerned. Subvert the prompt, reverse the prompt, marry the prompt—it’s up to you.

All forms of fannish works are accepted and encouraged for this event! Fanfic, fanart, poetry, podfics, fanvids, playlists, fiber and other crafts, fan edits, moodboards, etc.

You may start posting your Promptober fanworks as soon as they’re ready to share. No need to wait until October and no need to rush to get them all done in that month, either.

Fanwork Fill Requirements

100 words for written works or word art, with the exception of poetry with independent formatting rules (such as haikus).

1 image for artwork or handcrafts of any kind and a description for the visually impaired of the medium used and what it represents.

1 image for cosplay or character-bounding and a description for the visually impaired of cosplay or clothing and any other fashion influences incorporated into the costume or clothing (be descriptive! talk about fabrics and colors, tone and texture! describe the emotions the colors you used evoke in you as the creator!)

9 elements for moodboards (background, images, texts, ephemera) and a description for the visually impaired of the moodboard and what it represents.

6 images for social media AUs and a description for the visually impaired of the creation and what it represents.

10 songs for playlists and a text list of artists and songs to give credit to the original artists, plus a description for the visually impaired of what the playlist represents and how it relates to Darcy.

Still not sure if your creation will meet the minimum prompt fill requirements? @ a mod! we’ll create new requirements based on new types of creator fanwork submissions, as needed.

These participation requirements are identical to our annual bingo event; those guidelines are always pinned at the top of our tumblr blog where they’re easy to find; the link to those guidelines and fill requirements can also be found on Discord in our #bingo-info channel.

[throwaway-yandere]

"Aren't You Supposed To Hate Me?" (Yandere Modern!Il Dottore/Reader)

CW: mild yandere

the real a/n: if you see me putting too many sylvia plath references, no– no you did not. Also, webttore rights. I promise he's not that bad bakery anon pls don't kill me-. ALSO LOGO'S MADE BY ESTHER ANON!!!

Mother of Klee, Alice’s note: When your bakery opens, can you make some Eton mess? What? “That’s not on the menu…?” Well, you should add it! My darling Klee looks adorable eating strawberries! Oh, but you're not leaving Teyvat Pro, right?

Yandere! 1k Idol Match-up Event

---------

According to what people have said about you, you exude calmness. And that it’s a strength. That your soothing and somewhat “motherly” presence puts you one step forward more than most people. But why isn’t your composure congruent with the frantic screaming inside of you that begged this lunatic to quit clutching your baking supplies?

Damn, this isn't the time to NOT be assertive, assistant (Y/n). Pull yourself together.

"Please stop. You're strangling it."

"We all die, (Y/n). The sooner you internalize that, the better."

The man in front of you is none other than your boss: "Il Dottore", the man behind the idol group ADDICKTZ's creative decisions. You have been given the responsibility of maintaining order among the original 4 ADDICKTZ members while he deals with the second batch after he chose you out of the other 22 interviewees. 

"Sir, we're just baking. Please use a proper measuring cup. Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor–"

"Master. Not sir. I suggest you speak to me in a more respectful tone, Assistant (Y/n). The mere fact of your utility does not make you indestructible."

"I understand that very well, sir– Master, but please put the dough down. I cannot allow you to do the frosting at this rate."

Dang Akademiyan scholars and their honorifics.

Zandik huffed, unsatisfied, before leaning back on his chair. 

"Mind you, I'm a licensed surgeon." He boasted snarkily. "I'd certainly outmatch you when it comes to steady hands, assistant."

"Well– shame that a medical degree does not automatically mean you'd be good at art, then."

"(Y/n), did I hire an imbicile? Answer me, who exactly are you working for?"

"You, Master Zandik." 

"And my occupation?"

" ADDICKTZ’s Creative Director–"

Zandik smugly raised an eyebrow.

"... I admit defeat."

ADDICKTZ values both of your artistic inputs. Even after work hours, you've done what you can to support DCKZ. You helped Diluc choose a haiku to confess his emotions not long ago, and more recently, you aided Zhongli to find inspiration in contemporary poetry for his lyrics. Sir Zandik, on the other hand, would help the group's plans progress from simple masquerades to a magnificent mashup of VISUAL Kei and distinctive pop elements with unbuckled bones facing the front view just tasteful enough to adhere to the unit's usual aesthetics.

Of course, these tasks are obviously trivial in comparison to what your "real work" entailed, and the CEO would split hairs if you joked about retiring. The doctor is no different; in fact, he is the most guilty of this dependence. Normally, superiors wouldn't break into their staff members' closed bakery at 2 in the morning on a Saturday, but Il Dottore has a few loose screws.

Partly, it's your fault too because Zandik has a crush on you.

That's not your ego talking– he admitted it three days ago. Maybe you would've accepted that confession if he didn't utter another word, you did hear Sohrah and the other staff members mention that he's some eye candy. The nose, the eye pits, the full set of pearly white teeth– those mean nothing when the person is Zandik. His personality is as foul as the things Ayato bought in the ADDICKTZ's hotpot game. You’re never crossing the water for an obvious red flag.

Following his direct confession, he went on to enumerate all of your faults in a psychopathic and alphabetical order. As to add more salt into the wound, Zandik brought out printed pictures and pointed at all the blemishes on your face that needed fixing before tossing a plastic surgeon's business card at you.  What an absolute jerk. Not the most romantic confession out there, but he did ask you out, right?

WRONG.

After his long spiel about being burdened by unnecessary dependence on you, he gave you an incentive to "look more unattractive during work hours" with a pay raise. 

So, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. Yet, you can't loathe Zandik when he's THAT honest about his avid repulsed fascination. The man is mad, but being mad doesn’t make him stupid. He wants the exact opposite of the likable behavior reinforcement theory coming from you. Zandik would sooner receive the loving embrace of an iron maiden than be in a rendezvous. He wholeheartedly believes that love is an illusion of a Greek necessity– whatever that meant. 

You were ready to argue when he pulled out a contract that Zhongli had revised for added credence. As self-preservation reared its not noble but necessary head, your anger left you. His proposed numbers were bafflingly astronomical that you might just quit your job after the first pay…

The moon has nothing to be sad about once it witnesses your dreams bear fruit. Zandik knows that as well, that's why he visited your little bakery before its opening day, demanding that you make him any type of pastries. Unfortunately, you're the type who would adjust your schedule for others and not the other way around.

Zandik wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeves. "Mind if I strip?"

"E-Excuse me?" You chuckled nervously. "Strip your apron, right?"

"Hair extensions, assistant." He clicked his tongue, amused. "With some common sense, you would’ve discovered that they get in the way and that these two long strands are artificial. Clearly, you lack some degree of rigor expected for an assistant."

Should’ve expected as much. This is the same man who cut off Childe's hair because he's "so damn tired seeing everyone in this forsaken group have the same fucking rat tail." You're pretty sure the only person who thought it was mildly amusing was Dainsleif.

Still… Last time, he told you those two strands were part of his hair. Zandik is not the type who would pettily lie for a joke. He's as straightforward as CEO Alhaitham– for better or for worse. Maybe he has a twin brother or something… 

No, that’s just inconceivable.

Zandik watched in amusement as your forehead creased. 

"You should've worded that differently… Doesn’t matter. Is there a flavor you’d like? Chocolates or...?"

He answered immediately. “Strawberries. Saw Alice ate some with her daughter last night.”

“Definitely it's not because it's your favorite, I’m aware,” you mused sarcastically. “Since you’re not actually into strawberries, might I suggest chocolate?”

Zandik glared. “Why?”

You batted your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, doctor, don’t you know chocolates have the love drug? As Langston Hughes would say “Have you dug the spill of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims, on this sepia thrill–”."

“Debunked. It’s laughable that you would insinuate such an incorrect notion.” Zandik scoffed loudly. “Chocolates don’t directly pass phenylethylamine to our nervous system, you’re more likely to excrete these pathetic sweets off your a–” 

Never been a romantic. Dottore somehow loves to make it a point to remind you of that foul personality trait of his in every conversation.

“Alright, that’s enough. It’ll be strawberry flavored.” You sighed as you placed the tray inside the oven. “Might I say, you’re acting rather… cocky, for a lack of a better term, with how I should handle my work.” 

“In my many years of living, I’ve learned that arrogance is a side-effect of truth and intelligence.”

“Yes, but your methods of holding that dough is quite barbaric. Please let it go.”

“Tsk.”

Dead hands, dead stringencies– Zandik simply lacks the talent for baking due to his rigidity. He dropped the dough and you smirked for a second, relieved. You secretly have a competitive side and you'd hate to admit that you're scared he might just beat you at your own game because of the frostings.  

“Master Zandik, please just sit down. There are empty chairs at empty tables–”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his legs on your table. You tried not to scream at him about hygiene and barely succeeded. “Friends are all dead and gone– I know. Do not think you can reference Les Miserables without me knowing, baker.”

You shook your head as you set the timer. While you were preoccupied, it seemed as if the doctor just couldn’t sit still.

“Hmph, this is the only thing of interest I’ve found in your precious little bakery thus far.”

You turned to look at him.

Zandik paused in front of the small wall of photographs you had on display. A smile crept on your face as you remembered how proud you were of organizing the photos of your friends and family into a heart-shaped mosaic. There is a tiny square space in the middle and he correctly inferred that will be the center will be used to display a photo of the bakery's opening day. Be that as it may, his attention lay elsewhere.

"You had a violent streak, didn't you?"

"... Pardon?"

"You were the "problem child", that's my assessment," Zandik smirked, detaching a photograph from your wall, which surprised you since you've had trouble easing them free. 

He specifically picked the photo you took during kindergarten with your grandma. 

"You had scraped knees and elbows but you don't have that stereotypical dumb boyish smile. You seem to have quite a pronounced frown. Would I be wrong to assume you weren't well-liked in your school–"

“Put it back.” While you do generally dislike being put under a spotlight, the cause of your harsh delivery stems from his unpleasant phrasings.

Zandik pretended not to hear you, "–I'm not teasing you. I would know this because I had a photo similar to this one."

For a moment, you saw a flicker of melancholic humanity in your otherwise monstrously rigid employer. You thought that vulnerable display would be brief, but the hollow chuckle that echoed proved that this event will mark a milestone in your "work" relationship.

Master Zandik is opening up to you.

"Unlike this cute and happy memento, I don't have a grandmother who would take a picture with me. I’ve lost them all in the fire." He muttered, his voice low and his eyes squinting. "Hence the reason why I squandered most of my hours burying my nose in textbook after textbook. Pantalone and I had to prove ourselves worthy of living a life outside the orphanage. But this picture…"

Your boss grumbled. "This picture looks awfully similar to the only childhood picture I have taken. A large frown, beat-up uniform– a rage that I can relate to. I understand your child self all too well. Too well, in fact, that I feel the urge to burn this photograph like what I’ve done with mine."

He traced his thumb around your young self's image, shockingly intimate.

You blinked incessantly, trying to process all the information that he told you. First, your boss has no family left. Second, he’s an orphan raised alongside sir Pantalone. Third, he burned the only picture he had when he was a kid. You would pinch yourself but this conversation is jaggedly real. 

As sensitive as this topic may be, your skepticism slips out as easily as breathing. "You burned your only childhood photo?"

Zandik ruminated. 

"Curious as to what I would've looked like? You don’t seem to find my decision very agreeable."

"Who would?" You didn't mean to whine, but the tone of your voice made you sound like complaining. "What possessed you to do that?! Now no one would know what you looked like, not even yourse–"

"I didn't look too different as to who I am now," Zandik answered, his usual confidence coming back. "Only back then, shades of purple bruises would overlap my face, arms, legs, and stomach. If I loathed my natural features I would've done something drastic to tweak my appearance."

"Of course, you would, hair surgeon." You jokingly muttered Childe's best Dottore insult.

"What was that?"

For the sake of the hair Ajax is trying to grow out, you need to change the subject, fast.

"Master Zandik, I have to ask– aren’t you supposed to hate me? Pray tell, what are you doing here then?”

It’s been bothering you since he walked in. If he wants his “crush” for you to disappear, then why the hell is he spending more time with you?

Surprisingly, Zandik was also stunned by your question. His eyes went wide, perplexed.

“... What are you talking about?”

“You know what I meant.” You deadpanned. “The contract, what else?”

“Contract?” He squinted. “What contract? Is it a contract revised by Zhongli?”

“An astute guess.” You mocked his tone. “Yes, it is. Perhaps we’ve handled so many workloads the past month because of Sir Alberich’s eye-plucking shenanigans that’s why you forgot. To put it simply, you ordered me to act less attractive in exchange for a pay raise.”

“What?”

He looked at you incredulously, as if you were joking.

“Is this some kind of twisted joke?” Zandik huffed. “I would do no such thing. That’s...”

His demeanor shifted once, then twice. After a moment of silence, he nodded.

“Forgive me, you’re right. I did propose that contract, haven’t I?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And I also confessed my affection for you as well?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Pity.” He muttered, his tone grieving. “There should be no other person who can understand me more than I do.” 

Zandik glared. “But why on earth is He trying to sabotage us.”

He?

“What are you talking about?”

Zandik gritted his teeth and smiled. “No matter. There’s no need for concern, darling.”

…

Did Master Zandik always have shark-like teeth?

He reached out and ruffled your hair slightly, but there is an ominous aura that lingered in his expression. It was akin to self-loathing, but not quite. Zandik pulled his hand back slowly, clenching it into a fist as he walked away.

You will never understand what he was talking about. After all, “Zandik” failed to mention the most important aspect of that photograph.

He had no parents, aunts, uncles, cousins… But the outcast did stand next to someone in that single childhood photo he had.

And that person was the picture-perfect imitation of himself, the perfect “sibling”.

Il Dottore laughed.

Now, if he could just throw him in the fire too…

Ansytea: Thank you so much for joining the match-up event Bakery Anon! Please don't chop, cook, and serve me to faceless!ayato–

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Secret Admirer-Isane Kotetsu X Reader

“Hey sis! What’s eating you?” Kiyone asked as she walked up beside her sister, Isane Kotetsu.

“Eek! N-nothing!” Isane exclaimed in shock as she shoved a letter into her Shihakusho and her face turned red.

“Isane, what was that?” Kiyone asked, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“N-nothing! It was just… uh…” Isane’s eyes shot across the scenery before locking onto something and saying “Just a list of herbs the captain wanted me to grab!” and ripping out a handful of leaves from a tree and spinning on her heel.

However, before she had even taken two steps, she was stopped by Kiyone grabbing her by the shoulder.

“Isane, that was a regular tree. What are you hiding from me?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Twenty minutes and one nearly destroyed outfit later, Kiyone had the letter Isane had hidden from her.

On it, a haiku was written

“Gentle As The Breeze

More Beautiful Than Flowers 

White Hair And Grey Eyes”

Instantly Kiyone’s head whipped towards Isane as she shouted.

“YOU HAVE A SECRET ADMIRER!?”

“N-no! I’m pretty sure the letter was meant for you!”

Kiyone looked Isane dead in the eyes with the single most unimpressed look in all of existence before looking at the letter.

“Let’s see if that theory is correct, “Gentle As The Breeze” definitely not me. The next line is “More Beautiful Than Flowers” which is not me, I mean I’m a looker but you're the one with the bombshell bod. And finally we have “White Hair And Brown Eyes” so unless you have had color blindness your entire life and not told me, you can see that I am, in fact, blonde.” Kiyone told her sister, completely eviscerating her paper thin argument of the letter being for Kiyone.

“B-but-” Isane began to stutter before being cut off by Kiyone.

“Sis, you have a wonderful personality and a body most women would kill for, the letter is for you.”

“I-i-i’m too tall!” Isane exclaimed, grasping at straws.

“Isane, your tits are bigger than my head.” Kiyone shot back with a deadpan expression.

“Kiyone! Language!” Isane chided despite her own glowing face.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After this, Kiyone decided it was time for a crusade.

Isane was completely against it, even when it was put before the Shinigami Women’s Association.

She was fully prepared to bribe Yachiru if need be.

Unfortunately, the decision had already been made without her and now, she was being dragged across the Soul Society, looking for her secret admirer.

Now, if only she knew who talked her secret admirer into sending her the letter.

A certain tiny pink haired lieutenant who said something off handedly about candy to a certain member of her squad.

To you.

That off handed comment was what gave you inspiration.

Inspiration to try and court Isane Kotetsu.

The person who, to you, was the single most beautiful being in all of existence.

She was gentle as the breeze.

More wonderful than a million flowers.

And her hair, her eyes… like looking into heaven itself.

Oh by the soul king you wished you could talk to her freely.

But you were in Squad 11, the squad of outlaws.

And she was in Squad 4, which was everything 11 was not.

So, you send letters and notes, secret little things instead.

All in hope that, one day, you will be able to ask for her hand yourself.

[nashdas-jp]

When the last persimmon falls

Or, "I tried to search in Japanese: 柿 (かき kaki; persimmon) edition"

For about a year, this post was a few lines in my drafts. An open-and-shut case, I thought. Today, struck by the mood to get it over with, I googled (and DuckDuck went), got lost, then found the truth. It didn't take long - and I won't make this post too long - but the result wasn't what I expected.

Here's the story of why if I had a nickel every time I heard a character in Japanese fiction say their life depends on the last fruit hanging onto a persimmon tree in winter, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

Spoiler: One of my nickels wasn't exactly a nickel, but I still had another one I didn't know I had. And that's the correct currency.

What:

A character is seriously ill. Meanwhile, a persimmon tree visible from their sickbed has only one fruit left. The character says they'll die by the time it falls.

Where:

Yakuza: Like a Dragon (Yakuza 7) substory Persimmon Premonition - see first image.

Gintama episode 296. Not a persimmon - see image above.

Osomatsu-san season 3, episode 20, part C. I watched this but forgot about it until now - see image below.

The question

This Yakuza 7 substory reminds me of that Gintama episode. They must both be referencing some other thing. What is it?

Trees and fruits and seasons are some classic poetic shit TM, maybe it's a literary reference? The image of the last fruit on the tree is one of those set phrases in formal correspondence that reference changing seasons? A ripe persimmon falling to the coldness of winter symbolises death?

The search

persimmon japanese winter

"Kigo (季語) is a Japanese word or phrase associated with a particular season; especially in poetry. And "persimmon" (柿) is one of the famous kigo for autumn." The taste of persimmon features in a famous haiku about the Horyuji temple bells in Nara. (source 1) At the time this haiku was written, only the astringent persimmon variety was cultivated in Japan. It falls off the tree easily. (source 2)

Okay, but still too general.

柿の実 (persimmon fruit)　冬 (winter)　落ち (drop)　死ぬ (die)

Gardening tips. Many gardening tips.

最後の柿の実 (The Last Persimmon Fruit)　話 (story) 　伝説 (legend)

Did you know that traditionally, a few persimmons are left behind on trees in harvest season? They're called 木守り (きまもり kimamori), and were originally meant for travellers, birds, and other animals to eat, because it's hard to find food in winter. In Nagano, souls of the deceased are said to come down to persimmon trees. (sources: 1, 2, 3)

Getting warmer...?

患者 (patient)　柿の実 (persimmon fruit)　冬 (winter)　死ぬ (die)

dic.pixiv.net link: Persimmon (Osomatsu-san)

Name of Osomatsu-kun chapter

Osomatsu-kun strip (via Twitter): One last persimmon, da jo~

The end

As the last link explains, the same trope appeared in Osomatsu-san and Osomatsu-kun (manga only). They were both inspired by...

The Last Leaf by O. Henry.

A story that, having read the Wikipedia article, I vaguely remember from English class or something. Just like everyone who made the latter-half-of-20th-century stuff in the "Adaptations" section.

Now what?

"Where did the basic premise come from?" is solved, but not why all the examples here used persimmons.

Maybe a lone, orange kimamori representing autumn and hanging on in spite of winter is more evocative than a dull leaf.

More likely, that image inspired the Osomatsu-kun strip, then Yakuza 7 and Gintama took the whole setup from Osomatsu-kun, persimmon (or Sacchan) included. Not where I thought it would come from, since I inconveniently forgot the Osomatsu-san episode.

But, this is all only as far as I took the research. If anyone knows more about this persistent trope, I'd love to hear it!

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Every September, my friend Marc Hong, a professor at Louisville Seminary, hosts Psalmtember. He invites you to join in, too!

Think "Inktober," but in September and with a spiritual focus — and with any art form welcome, from drawing to poetry to photography and beyond. There's also no pressure to create something for every day — do as many or as few as you like.

Here's Marc's description of this artistic event:

Each year, I love to spend a month making art inspired by the Psalms. There are 30 days in September, meaning that I can evenly divide up the 150 Psalms into 5 sets of 30. So, if I do this for 5 years, I will have made art with all of the Psalms. Join me! The prompt list is in the image [as well as below the readmore]. But other words may stand out to you! Or you may try to make art that represents the wholeness of the Psalm. I encourage you to read the text of the whole Psalm each day, consider what emotions it stirs up in you, choose a medium that speaks to you, and make some art! Folks have painted, used ink, drawn with colored pencils, taken photographs, written haikus, and much more. Choose what stirs delight in you!

Tag your post with #psalmtember2023 so we can celebrate the Psalms through art together!

Marc and many others post on Facebook, but I'll be paying attention to the tag here on tumblr. If you create anything you'd like me to share on Facebook on your behalf, DM me.

PSALMTEMBER 2023 PROMPT LIST

SEPT 1 - Psalm 31 - Refuge

SEPT 2 - Psalm 32 - Waters

SEPT 3 - Psalm 33 - Breath

SEPT 4 - Psalm 34 - Radiant

SEPT 5 - Psalm 35 - Net

SEPT 6 - Psalm 36 - Mountains

SEPT 7 - Psalm 37 - Smoke

SEPT 8 - Psalm 38 - Burden

SEPT 9 - Psalm 39 - Burned

SEPT 10 - Psalm 40 - Bog

SEPT 11 - Psalm 41 - Rise

SEPT 12 - Psalm 42 - Deer

SEPT 13 - Psalm 43 - Altar

SEPT 14 - Psalm 44 - Dust

SEPT 15 - Psalm 45 - Robes

SEPT 16 - Psalm 46 - River

SEPT 17 - Psalm 47 - Throne

SEPT 18 - Psalm 48 - City

SEPT 19 - Psalm 49 - Graves

SEPT 20 - Psalm 50 - Tempest

SEPT 21 - Psalm 51 - Clean

SEPT 22 - Psalm 52 - Uproot

SEPT 23 - Psalm 53 - Bones

SEPT 24 - Psalm 54 - Upholder

SEPT 25 - Psalm 55 - Dove

SEPT 26 - Psalm 56 - Bottle

SEPT 27 - Psalm 57 - Shadow

SEPT 28 - Psalm 58 - Snail

SEPT 29 - Psalm 59 - Dogs

SEPT 30 - Psalm 60 - Cracks

[goldenflowerinthedark]

Kouyou Headcanons Post!!

She's transfem!!

She kept her birthname because she liked it.

She wears her hair down when she has bad dysphoria days.

She smells like cherry blossoms and tea.

Her favorite flowers are cherry blossoms.

Her favorite tea is either green tea with cherry blossoms or oolong.

She makes the best tea.

She keeps a sword hidden not only in her parasol, but also under some of her layers of clothing. Due to all the layers, it's very tough to spot.

She's a questioning lesbian, though she has loved a man before (the lover she tried to leave the mafia with).

She likes to make and put together outfits, especially more traditional Japanese ones or anything she finds particularly stylish.

She has very good posture.

She also has very good manners!

Animals usually don't like her, for some reason.

Sometimes in her free time, she'll do origami.

She completed 1000 paper cranes once, and the wish she made was to either have her lover back or to be able to leave the mafia.. It didn't come true. (Inspired by @duckduckgoose-exe :3)

She gets sunburnt easily, which is part of the reason she has a parasol (the other is because it's stylish).

She likes haikus, and occasionally tries to write some.

Before she was an executive, when she would mess up in her job, she would get "punished accordingly" or "shown the right way to do it" through torture, since that was the department she was in.

She has a few scars, but they're all usually covered by her clothes.

She believes that scars are actually quite beautiful, and a symbol of one's strength and ability to adapt and overcome things.

In the summer, she switches out her typical kimono for a yukata so she doesn't melt in the heat.

Aaand more to come!!

@shusei-tokuda @kijimha

@pm-black-lizard (I know she hasn't really interacted with you yet... But someday I'll think of a prompt.. Trust..)

@dogskahara @nakahara-chuuya-18 (Sorry for the tags... Not sure if it was something you'd wanna see-)

[kichikichiko]

For you, and you only

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy!

This is my first time writing for cyno so his is a bit shorter 😭

Heizou,Kazuha,Kabukimono and Cyno (seperate) x gen neut!reader

Headcanon,fluff,not proofread, Kabukimono is Scaramouche 😭

♡♡♡♡

HEIZOU ▪︎ analytical harmony

He loved solving puzzles and mysteries and you knew that when you started dating him

He'd take you to events that was specifically made for nerds who loved using their brains

You ended up just following him around though as he did all the puzzle solving 😭

Every once in a while though, you would solve a simple puzzle/crack the code/find a clue and he'd praise you like youre the smartest person ever

Proud bf coming through

But when events like that are not available, he'd make puzzle boxes and give it to you

Inside that said box, would be a little paper filled with sweet little nothings, or just a simple "have a good day today love :))"

Must admit, you look forward to getting those puzzles from him

Its that little thing which makes your relationship all the more sweeter

KAZUHA ▪︎ Scarlet Leaves Pursue Wild Waves

Gentle, poetic, a gentleman and handsome, he is truly the package

What more could you ask for anyways?

That man wants to let you know every waking moment that you are deserving of his love

And what other way would be more romantic than giving you weekly haiku's

He's settled on making one every week so he doesnt overwhelm you too much (which isnt true you love how he expresses his love)

And he wants to make a Haiku that truly resonates how he feels towards you

Kazuha only wants the best haiku's given to you

Alwaya puts his all into it

Because you deserve the world <33 (thats him he is world)

Sometimes, when he reads his haiku to you he'd give you a maple leave, or something he saw that gave inspiration for his latest haiku

You kept them all, youve got a shelf full of the trinkets he gave you as he recited his haiku

And placed his haikus in a special box

His goal for writing haiku's was not only to remind you of his love

But to also comfort you when he isnt around

Kazuha is a wanderer, a ronin, his home is in mother nature and he wants to travel

You understood of course, you would join him in some of his journeys when fate calls for it

But if you cant, reading the haikus he gave helps a lot as if he was truly there with you

His love is with you all the time no matter how far apart you both are

CYNO ▪︎ Judicator of Secrets

When you both first started dating and youre upset, Cyno usually freezes up and stares at you

Dont blame him though, he was afraid anything he did would make you even more upset

He never wanted to make you upset ever

You were his lovely partner he only wanted to make you smile and happy

It was really hard, especially with his serious personality

After a few months though, he finally found a way to comfort you

He'd sit down next to you in silence

Then crack up the most downright horrid joke ever with a blank face, looking straight at you

It never fails to make you laugh

He knew you were laughing at the fact that the joke was bad

But to him it didnt matter because he ends up seeing you smile

You were the only one who actually liked his stupid jokes, and listened to him as he explained it in great detail

You made him happy

It was time for him to return the favour

KABUKIMONO ▪︎ Puppet without a heart

He is a puppet, barely understanding human emotions but always trying his best to be just like them

When you both started dating, he felt more human than he ever did

He adores and appreciates you so much

He wants to be able to pay back all you have done for him

He doesnt know how to though, human emotions are complex and beautiful

Just like Kazuha, he wants to give his all when it comes to appreciating you and expressing his love for you

Sometimes, he'd walk by the shore of the beach

And if by some chance he's lucky, he'd find a seashell that reminds him of you

He doesnt pick a random seashell no, he'd collect all he sees as he walked around

And when he thinks he's found enough, he'll pick the prettiest one that reminded him of you

When he gave you a seashell for the first time and explaining in full detail why it reminded him of you

You almost cried, you appreciated it so much you made it as an accessory

He loved that you brought it around

That man started going out more finding more small things that reminded you of him

Half of the time he has his eyes stuck to the ground finding things to give to you

Everyone teases him for it, but Niwa would always defend him

Kuni just wants to see your eyes sparkle and see you smile when he gives you stuff

He wants to be the reason you smile

He'd spend his whole life time finding ways to make you happier than ever

♡♡♡♡

[deadpanwalking]

dpw i am preparing a long list of Helen Vendler books to request from the library because you have inspired me to be more of a Poetry Appreciator. I’m so excited to read them!

but also: I am wondering if there are any poets you’d specifically recommend for extremely short poems like haiku, couplets, etc?

I was transfixed when you reblogged A Lover by Amy Lowell a while ago because it’s so short but every time I thought about it i understood another dimension. And I’m now fascinated by tiny short poems because for me as a reader the brevity heightens my attention to how carefully chosen each word was, and how much each word contains and says. I read Amy Lowell said that “concentration is the very essence of poetry” and I think that’s what fascinates me about the short ones, how much is concentrated in them.

Anyway I would love love love any recommendations you might have about other poems and poets that do this well. and in the meantime thank you for inspiring me to be more well read!

Rexroth is still the gold standard for classical Japanese poetry translations, though I picked up a copy of Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani's's translation of Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu's poems last year on the recommendation of a friend, and fell in love with it.

As far as English language poetry goes, you don't have to stray far from the path you're already on—Imagists, Vorticists, and early Modernists all made their bones fucking around with minimalism. So: T.E. Hulme, F.S. Flint, Ford Madox Ford , H.D., William Carlos Williams, and my personal favorite expatriate fascist collaborator, Ezra Loomis Pound (though if you pick up Cathay you gotta check out ABC of Reading—and if you check out ABC of Reading you'll want to cleanse the palate with Wong May's In The Same Light, which I've talked about on here).

[mutated-green-things]

📓

I reblogged this meme awhile ago but I had a hard time narrowing it down to just one fic I have daydreamed about a lot but not written:

I really have so many Leonardo ideas buzzing around for this but I eventually decided to ramble about the fic I started mentally crafting awhile back about Leo having DID/being plural. Mostly because that’s the one I’ve made the most notes about (Haven’t actually written any actual fic/prose I just have lots of disparate ideas and such) The biggest thing being a system list for him! It’s all the alters I think he’d have along with a (somewhat) short description of them. So, I’ll start with that and share some extra thoughts at the end! (Also quick note: every alter listed uses he/him unless otherwise stated)

Leonardo: Host and most big brother-y of them all. Tries to get his brothers to follow the rules but isn't angry or cruel. Is calm and calculating and effectively uses the knowledge his librarian alter has collected. Doesn't ramble about it, but thinks about it often. The effective, precise leader, general, and combatant.

Okami/Wolf: The first split and inspiration for this fic/AU. Essentially Leo feels a bit like a different character in season 4: Angry, violent, brutal. So the idea is that when they’re all almost killed in that explosion on Shredder’s ship, that’s the start of Leo’s system. That failure and threat of death is so traumatic that he splits a persecutor who blames him to explain away something so devastating and unfair happening without reason. The idea being that if Leonardo was just a little better, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place, and that makes the universe still controllable and just in their eyes. They weren’t good enough to reach the happy ending that his family deserved, but they can be if they work hard enough. Okami fronts throughout the first half or so of season 4 and even after Leo gets better he switches in when the body has to fight and when feelings of depression and failure well up. Okami can often be cruel and unreasonable and he’s the one who over trains and self harms.

Ryushi/りゆし: Written in hiragana because this alter only speaks in Japanese. Ryushi is very formal and tends to front during the most traditional functions the family takes part in. Most active in the morning during meditation and morning tea, though he also pretty frequently comes out in Usagi’s presence. He regularly has incredibly lengthy conversations with Usagi exclusively in Japanese, which drives Mikey and Raph crazy, since they can’t follow all of it. Donnie and Splinter sometimes jump in too, but some of the more modern/technical Japanese words Don knows throws Usagi (and sometimes even Ryushi) off, so Don will usually just let them have their fun. Splinter hops in more often and will happily embarrass the hell out of his son, but he also knows when to let them have their private time. As a final note: Ryushi loves Japanese snacks, his favorite being milk candy.

Kit/Kitsune: This is the librarian alter listed in Leonardo’s description. They’re a Bookworm who loves to read and catalogue. They’ll happily ramble for hours about kata, sword forging, battle history, haiku, and stratagem. In general Kitsune has pretty big autism vibes with a pretty wide range of special interests that overlap. They sometimes forgets to eat if they’re perfecting a Kata or reading something particularly interesting. Sometimes referred to as Donnie 2.0 by Raph/Mikey. Non-Binary. Probably They/He/She in that order for preference of pronoun. Has some interest in combat but prefers to read about it rather than participate though I do kind of like the idea of their signature weapon being tessen. The Burnt Out Gifted Kid with a Praise Kink also really fits Kit.

Blue: Scared, scarred child. Trauma holder and only little. Probably around 8 or 9. Still carries an extreme fear of heights that the rest of the system “conquered” around this age. Conquered in quotes because really I think Leonardo pressed that shit down until it was all squeezed into the psychic space that would eventually become Blue. He may hurt others as a fear response but is sloppy and can't actually do serious damage like Wolf, Leonardo, or Ryushi. The second split after Okami. Comes around as Leo starts to confront his trauma and fears with Usagi and Donatello’s help.

Leo: The last to split and only formed when they’ve finally worked through a lot of shit and returned to some sort of relaxed normalcy. He’s close to Leonardo in personality but way more fun loving and easy going. Plays games with his family and makes dad jokes. Will happily play video games with Mikey and prank his brothers. Comes out when doing fun family activities, when they are loopy tired, or when they are under the influence of something.

I also have some idea for the system name being The Armory System or just The Armory, and have a ton of thoughts on how this is explained to Leo. But none of them are cohesive or concrete. I do know that both Usagi and Donatello would play a big role in this fic but I don’t know who would be more active/how I would achieve any sort of balance between them…

I could just have Donnie tag along into Usagi’s world when Usagi takes Leo on his Big Healing Adventure. I think Don would gladly tag along but there’s some steps I’d need to go through to make that happen without Raph and Mikey coming too. That and even if I make that happen I’d still have to balance interactions and such so it wouldn’t be weighted to one side too much.

A few stray thoughts and that’ll end my ramble:

This would ofc be a Leosagi story and getting explore Usagi falling in love with Leonardo and all his different alters sounds so so fun.

I also had this idea of using a magical journal or bottle that can transport words/objects across dimensions. I still like that idea a lot and will likely repurpose it for it’s own fic but I like the idea of Don, Leo, and Usagi all traveling together in Usagi’s world even more.

Okay! That’s it! Thanks for reading!

[russeliarat]

Yall wanna see some misc HMSW stuff I've been doodling over the past few weeks? Too bad you're seeing them anyway.

Instinct and Desire, the fusions of Heart and Mind and Heart and Soul respectively. I actually drew these a bit ago but I redraw them today and made a Soul and Mind fusion called Morality, but couldn't find the images on my phone so I'll take the photos tomorrow at some point and post it individually then.

Here's a dumb doodle I did of Desire a while back:

Misc doodles with varying inspiration. The Soul and Heart is the top right corner are based on the two outfits for Frank from Rocky Horror Picture Show, the Chonny in the bottom left is pose practice from Shut Up You're Stupid mv (the part at the end where he start swaying), the top left is a Heart inspired by something I found on Pinterest that I got to practice feathers, mild body horror, and posing, and the bottom right corner Mind and Heart are pose + expression practice with outfits I mixed together from Pinterest.

Yes the Mind doodle in the bottom right is my favourite.

Drone bee Mind. Not really much to say other than 'what if I gave him four arms and a cunty outfit'. I just liked the idea of insect designs.

For the SCP AU on tumblr and CJFS that I've become obsessed with. (Made by starry_hologram, sorry tagging won't work on mobile fsr) I've had a recent obsession with SCP Foundation in general and this basically latched onto both my special interests. I've been playing with the idea of Simon not being as entirely human as everyone thought and him having this uncanny-ness to him that no one can pinpoint. I elaborate further on sketches below, but I'm putting them at the end of the post since it's very horror themed. Me when SCP leans way into a very good setting for every kind of horror imaginable (I am not sleeping tonight after the scroll through Pinterest, you can find anything on there if you know how to get to it :'D)

Staying true to my roots and putting Heart in ballgown of a dress. Got lazy and only gave him one wing though, I had plans to put the other two in dresses but Heart's long ass skirt made me leave it. I used silver and purple metallic gel pens to add dimension but you can't really see it in a photo ngl.

For my partner's comfort AU! Jellyjash as we call him. Put him in the beach fit coz it suits the vibe.

Not really HMSW but this is the design I've been using for the past 8 or 9 months for the Haiku/HitS love interest, of whom I call Venus. I've been practicing drawing people with more weight lately, I'm tweaking how I draw Venus' proportions atm.

Here's the horror stuff for Simon:

[alexiethymia]

illumination

summary: [Post-TYBW] Hitsugaya fixed his tabi on the engawa as he waited for Momo. Not for the first time, he was gripped with that sense of déjà vu. First sunrise. First shrine visit. A lot of the firsts that he remembered in his life was with her.

[read on ao3]

Notes: I don’t consider myself good at domestic fics, so this fic had plenty of inspiration, mainly @rays-of-fire-and-ice, @canariie, and @bleachbleachbleach‘s head canons especially about Jurinan grandma and Momo’s calligraphy. It was also inspired by the Hitsugaya family in Untitled Collection and the warmest place in the world, as well as all of the HCs about hitsuhina children that I just went and bit the bullet and did my own version. I’m also way too late for HitsuHina week, but I really wanted to finish this work based on the prompt fireworks.

Soshun mazu sake Ni ume uru Nioi kana

New year and first Sake and the fragrance of plum blossoms Being sold

“Kira’s spouting off haikus again which means he’s plastered and that’s our cue to go. Thanks for having us, Hitsugaya-taichou!”

“Heh, you sure it isn’t because you’ve made your darling wife and daughter wait up for you and now you’re scared you’ll be greeting the new year with a sandal to the face?”

“Shut it, Hisagi-san.”

“Oi, oi, show some respect Abarai. It should be Hisagi-senpai.”

“Ehh Kira, isn’t that haiku out-of-season? Isn’t it too early for spring? Ah, but it fits perfectly with the umeshu doesn’t it, taichou?”

Kira just ignored the whole drunken lot in favor of shaking Momo’s hands. For some reason, he seemed to be crying.

“Just a small new year’s gift, Hinamori-kun…ah…eto,” Kira mumbles all the while still vigorously shaking her hands. Only a strained furrow in his drooping brow signified his strain as if trying to remember something important amidst the drunken haze he was in, “My mistake,” he amends, “I mean, Hitsugaya-san.”

Perhaps it was the same furrow mirrored in the captain’s expression that caused him to remember, but in truth Hitsugaya’s expression wasn’t really directed at him. In truth, it wasn’t only Renji’s wife who was maybe slightly displeased with him.

“No need to be so formal, Kira-kun! We’ve known each other for ages.” Despite that she consented to be supported by her back, she wasn’t as fully nestled by his side like in her moments of true contentment where she would be languid and soft against him.

She was the perfect hostess so she’d never let anything in her expression show except a welcoming and bright smile, but Hitsugaya didn’t know her for centuries for nothing. The smile she had now had the same subtle curves as the exact same smile she showed him when she said, ‘What do you mean? Of course, I’m not angry, Shiro-chan, how silly,’ when he’d eaten the peaches she had apparently been saving when they were just carefree kids back in Jurinan. Moments like this made memories like that feel simultaneously as if they were eons ago and also as if they just happened yesterday.

Hitsugaya sighed.

“Momo, you know you can’t drink for a reason.”

Everyone in the party turned to look at him at that. True it was stern as was characteristic of Hitsugaya-taichou, but at the same time it sounded conciliatory. Perhaps that was why Momo let her smile fall, and let a slight pout overtake her features. Internally, Hitsugaya sighed with relief. He’d rather she shows that she was displeased with him than hide it.

“I know, but still for you to go so far as to ask everyone to bring plum wine, precisely because you know I don’t like it…” When Madarame-san and Ayasegawa-san brought some over, she thought nothing of it. When Hirako-taichou had dropped by in human world attire clapping Toshiro on the back with enough force that he fell, irritated and grumbling, and ruffling her hair softly as he placed the bottle and a new jazz vinyl in her hands, she thought it was a funny coincidence. But when even Nanao-san with the soutaichou dropped by, her with books and him with more of the stuff, that’s when she began to put two and two together.

Maybe it was a bit much for new year’s celebrations, but it had also been a housewarming of sorts, and Momo was touched with all of the small tokens of welcome and well-wishes. Pity it had to be something she wasn’t fond of. But Momo was nothing but gracious so she accepted it all.

Abarai-kun and Hisagi-senpai looked at each other sheepishly, while Kira-kun looked just about ready to drop at the thought of possibly having offended her with their gift, but Hitsugaya-taichou insisted, and you never said no to Hitsugaya-taichou when he used that tone (rather you never just said no to Hitsugaya-taichou period).

At least Matsumoto-san was thoughtful enough to bring peaches which was probably why she was giggling at their expense.

Seeing Kira-kun’s shaking legs and increasingly off color (he might faint with how white he was becoming), Momo decided to let up with a sigh. Looking up at her husband who was looking at her straightforwardly, Momo found that she really couldn’t stay mad especially when the person in question was sure he had done nothing wrong. And anyway he also mostly abstained from the alcohol, only taking a few sips in order not to be rude to their guests. She leaned into him even as Hitsugaya-kun teased her lightly, “You would have snuck a few sips if it was fruit wine.”

Feeling as if they were intruding into some soft and fluffy scene, the vice-captains couldn’t help but feel second-hand embarrassment at being the witnesses to a married couple’s fight (if it could even be called that).

“I hope Rukia and I aren’t as obnoxious as that,” Renji whispered discreetly.

“You totally are. It’s just that your lover’s quarrels are more explosive.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you Hinamori-kun, er I mean, Hitsugaya-san, no I mean Momo-kun!” For some inexplicable reason, Kira started crying into his arm again.

“Ahhh, taichou and Momo, could you stop making the rest of us feel so single?”

“Ahem, Rangiku-san, would you do me the honor of- “

“Yosh! That does it. Time to take this party over to the Kuchiki manor. I’m sure they’ll have some high-class sake!”

“Hey, wait a minute! When did I say- “ But Hisagi just slung his arm over Renji’s neck in a chokehold, while dragging Kira behind him. Hitsugaya privately commiserated, both with Abarai and Kuchiki. Matsumoto was a whirlwind who couldn’t be stopped. Feeling a migraine coming on at the prospect of having to pay for any potential damages, he almost didn’t notice Matsumoto sidle up to them and spirit Momo away for a careful, and yet cheerful hug. Nuzzling her cheek against Momo’s, she whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll sneak you some fruit wine sometime.”

Hitsugaya growled in warning at hearing that, “Matsumoto…” but Momo only laughed and hugged the buxom woman tightly, as his vice-captain winked at him. “After everything, taichou, I promise. Lieutenant’s honor.”

Hitsugaya calmed down, and sighed. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. Nonetheless he greeted his vice-captain, “Happy New Year, Matsumoto. I’ll be counting on you greatly for the upcoming year.”

“Thank you for visiting, Rangiku-san. Have a Happy New Year!”

With a lazy salute, she waved them both goodbye, and in a while they were both finally alone. Hitsugaya didn’t mind the company of his colleagues, while he knew Momo enjoyed it. Still, he didn’t want her to get too tired. Spying her drooping lids, he gently shook her, mindful of both her hands wrapping around her midsection, “Time for bed, sleepyhead.”

“Mmmm,” Momo yawned as she placed both arms around her husband’s neck while he scooped her up, “Hey, Shiro?”

“Hmm, what is it?”

“You know you’re going to have to drink all that sake right? And I won’t help with a single drop,” Momo giggled sleepily. As much as Momo disliked plums, she knew Hitsugaya-kun didn’t have a taste for alcohol either. Snuggling deeper into her husband’s broad shoulder, she smiled peacefully.

Hitsugaya blanched.  

“I’ll give some to Matsumoto.”

…

Momo felt a hand waking her from restful slumber.

Blearily opening one eye, she spotted Hitsugaya-kun already up with a bemused look on his face. He had always been the early riser between the two.

Stretching her arms and yawning, Momo fixed her hair while Hitsugaya-kun patiently waited beside her. It was still dark out. Her stomach suddenly grumbled, and while she might have been embarrassed about it before, with how often it kept happening these days, she just got used to it.

Hitsugaya-kun passed her a bowl of the leftover toshikoshi soba she’d prepared for them which she took gratefully, warming her hands on the reheated bowl.

She still felt slow as molasses, but luckily Hitsugaya-kun had always been alert. While she sleepily slurped at the noodles still only half awake, Hitsugaya-kun merely arranged her so she was comfortable leaning against his front. He even tucked her in their blankets, leaving none for himself since the cold didn’t bother him. Once he was assured that she was comfortable, he slowly opened their sliding doors so they could view the night sky. It was but a moment later that the inky blackness was replaced with slivers of rose light.

With no words passing between them, together they watched the first sunrise.

---

Hitsugaya fixed his tabi on the engawa as he waited for Momo. Not for the first time, he was gripped with that sense of déjà vu.

First sunrise. First shrine visit.

A lot of the firsts that he remembered in his life was with her.

Memory was a funny thing in Soul Society. While he remembered nothing of his old life, if he were to fix a point in time where his life started here, he found that she was always in his firsts - that her smiling face was the beginning of everything.  

First smile. First laughter. First friend.

First love.

Though he took a while to realize it. (Or perhaps like a circle, there had been no fixed point and some part of him had always known.)

Finished, he leaned back on his arms as he looked up at the withered branches. Though some things remained the same, perhaps a lot of things also changed. He remembers his first shrine visit with Momo and baachan. Back then he’d been impatient and rushing her so that they could get a move on already. But his grumbling had died in his throat when he saw her come out with a new yukata. It was nothing fancy, not even a kimono, but it was new. Everything about her then was new, from the first time he saw her put her hair up in a bun, small wild flowers threaded into the strands by baachan, to the new dusty pink yukata with plum blossoms scattered across it she had saved up for.

‘How do I look, Shiro-chan?’

‘…You look fine.’

It wasn’t even close to what he wanted to say, but only Momo would still smile brightly at him like that, leaving him dazed.

The plum blossoms were starting to bud, he noticed. Glancing down at his own kimono, he thought wryly that this was a far cry from the threadbare yukata he’d worn back then. Deep midnight blue and black, with whorls of clouds, on the back a great mighty dragon, shining in white as it rushed alongside a surging river, such that you wouldn’t know where the river ended and the dragon began. Truthfully, it was a bit ostentatious for his own tastes, but baachan had sent it and baachan had probably made it, so he would wear it gratefully.

Hearing the sliding doors open, he turned, a teasing remark of, ‘Finally done?’ at the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t even get the chance.

How could he even say anything?

Just there, Momo in a resplendent silk furisode, cloaked in white and vermillion. She gave him a little twirl and he spied the phoenix at her back, feathered tail curling all over her, along with flowers bright red and yellow, exploding like fireworks. There were subtle patterns of teal and green that matched his eyes, while her hair was held up with a matching red kanzashi, stray locks curling over her ear and feathering her forehead.

Separated by years, two moments in time, and he still finds that his breath catches.

“How do I look, Shiro?”

A blush on her cheeks, eyes sparkling, happy and at peace.

He smiled.

“You look beautiful.”

Some things changed, but some things would always stay the same.

…

“I wonder if baasan got our card,” Momo murmured thoughtfully as she rubbed the silk between her two fingers. Hitsugaya-kun just hummed and nodded as he made a path for the two of them in the crowd, hand gripping hers firmly. She continued touching the silk with her other hand, softly marveling. It really was beautiful. Baasan must have started as soon as she finished with their wedding clothes to get these to them on time. The subtly sparkling white on her furisode reminded her of her shiromuku safely put away back in their private quarters at home, while the black in Hitsugaya-kun’s kimono reminded her of his montsuki. Baasan had playfully added Hyourinmaru’s four-point star as a crest, while lamenting that she couldn’t decide if she wanted Momo to wear white, or a colorful iro-uchikake.

Watching the softly falling snow outside, she had made the decision for her. Momo loved white. Baasan had only chuckled and said next time then. Letting the long sleeve fall smoothly from her hand like water, Momo smiled wondering if this was her version. This wasn’t their first shrine visit since they were married, but it was still a kind of first nonetheless.

Hitsugaya-kun briefly glanced back at her. “Don’t worry, we’ll visit her soon.” She nodded, still smiling at him.

…

“Yatta, I got great blessing! What did you get, Hitsugaya-kun?” Momo looked pleased with herself and that was more than enough for Toshiro, even as she couldn’t help her giggle at seeing his own fortune, sue-sho-kichi, small blessing to come. Toshiro wasn’t superstitious, but was the small really necessary?

Toshiro wasn’t superstitious but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. Momo tended to pull out good fortunes, almost always Dai-kichi, sometimes Chu-kichi. If the overwhelming misfortune she faced meant that the cosmic scale was being tipped back in her favor, then Toshiro thought that there was justice after all.

She traced the characters on her fortune, machibito, a person being expected or waited for, “The person you’re waiting for will come,” she mouthed softly, even as Toshiro’s heart jolted at seeing shussan on her fortune slip.

Even in moments of calm like this, sometimes the anxiety would spike up. To shake off the silly urge of wanting to bite his thumb nail he smoothed over endan and negaigoto on his own slip almost obsessively.

Hirako once told him that everything in reverse would come the right side way up eventually. He didn’t put much stock in the other captain’s words, and much less did he put stock in pieces of paper, but if they meant that Momo would have a lifetime of fortune and happiness, then he would believe them wholeheartedly. It was nothing less than she deserved. And if nothing else, he’ll believe in himself. He’ll will those fortunes to reality if he had to.

“These are good fortunes, aren’t they Hitsugaya-kun?”

They were.

…

Just before they were about to pray, Momo suddenly asked him, “What did you dream about, Hitsugaya-kun?”

“Nothing much, just the past.”

Momo suddenly chuckled, “I had an auspicious first dream, a hawk flying high in the sky.”

“Oh,” Toshiro raised a brow, questioning. People talked about signs all they liked but it was actually rare to dream about them.

Momo smiled sheepishly, “Hehe, well to be exact I dreamed about the first time Hitsugaya-kun showed me his bankai. I remember being so amazed at seeing you fly.”

Toshiro’s brow raised even higher, “So I’m a bird now, is that it? You know you can’t just make up signs like that.”

Momo just smiled back impishly. “I’m collecting luck. It’s a lucky sign if I say it is. It’s up to us to make our own happiness after all.”

Toshiro just sighed in fond exasperation, he’ll tell her later if she asked but he had dreamed about a moment in the past. It wasn’t a specific moment, in fact it could have been every moment, but he had dreamed of a simple scene of them eating watermelons and watching the sunset.

It had been so tranquil that when he woke up he was disoriented at how Momo seemed to have grown overnight while Granny was nowhere to be found. Had she snuck into his bed to sleep again? Concerned, he wondered if she had another nightmare, before noticing her clasped hands in front of her. It hit him all over again, like a kidou spell, the immense but quiet happiness. Uncharacteristic of him, he had woken her because he couldn’t contain himself. The scene of watching the sunset in his dreams replaced with watching the sunrise. They had been surrounded by the mountains of their hometown in his dreams. Perhaps that counted?

A clap interrupts his reverie. Softly but enough for him to hear, Momo releases her prayer for the gods to hear as well, ‘may they be clever and strong’.

Toshiro contemplates whether or not to tell her that prayers were usually silent, but he decides against it. He doesn’t mind. Anyway, he knows what his own prayer will be.

It’s the one he’s been wishing for every night for the past year.

…

Hatsuyuki ya suisen na ha na no tawamu made  

The first snow Just enough to bend The daffodil leaves

“I thought that you wanted your first calligraphy to be…”

“I know, I know what I said, but I can’t seem to think of anything,” Momo’s eyes as she looks up at him are pleading.

Stroking her head to calm her, he then picks up the paper to carefully store away. “It’s still good.”

Momo pouts slightly perhaps thinking he was only placating her. Unfurling it, Toshiro observes it more closely, “No really, it’s good. As always your handwriting is almost too pretty,” he smirks. Momo only puffs out her cheeks and crossed her arms pretending to be offended. Really her husband could still be so childish sometimes, finding it hard to say what he wanted to say. But Momo could still read him just the same. To him, anything she said or did was beautiful. She was beautiful. It was as simple as that.

Cupping his chin in hand, he asked her, “Do you want this here? I can place it in the entranceway.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I made it for the tenth division. I hope Rangiku-san also likes it.”

“You know her. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Finally putting the paper away, he dragged over another writing desk to place in front of her. It was easier to move around and sit without his captain’s cloak over his shoulders. He can’t remember the last time he went so long without wearing it. “Speaking of Matsumoto, I hope the tenth division barracks is still standing.”

“Hush,” she chides, even as she smiles and puts brush to paper to begin another stroke, “You know Rangiku-san can be counted on when it really matters.”

Copying her, he also drew a straight line downwards, though perhaps less elegant looking. His strokes were blunt and precise, sometimes heavy-handed in places where the ink would bleed out, much the same as him. He was good at dispensing reports quickly and efficiently, but wasn’t really suited to crafting pieces of art (unless it was with blade and ice), slowly and with care. This was more Kira’s domain, or Momo’s. She could get so absorbed in each stroke that perhaps an hour would pass before she was finished with just one kanji. She wrote like she drew, as if there was meaning and an entire world in each line that made up a character. And perhaps for her there was. “I know, I know. I haven’t even had any reports yet so they can’t be doing too badly without me.”

He hadn’t said anything, but perhaps Matsumoto sensed that he would prefer not to be bothered unless it was truly an emergency. She was an excellent vice-captain like that, although he rarely said it out loud. Again, perhaps, many would call it uncharacteristic of him, that he wasn’t worrying every minute about his squad but he had enough on his mind and in his heart right now. Gazing at Momo in front of him, humming as she added another stroke, he let out a subtle sigh of relief.

He could leave it up to Matsumoto.

…

It’s Momo who wakes him up this time around, brimming with excitement.

“Shiro-chan, look! It’s snowing!”

How nostalgic, he thinks sleepily at hearing her laugh, ‘she hasn’t called me that in ages.’

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, anxiety once again begins to creep in, contrasting his wife’s honest pleasure. ‘Won’t it be too cold for her?’ There were times in the middle of the night when he would unconsciously place space between the both of them, memories flashing back to those early days when he couldn’t control his powers. But without fail and as if she had some sixth sense for it, she would only draw nearer, looping hands and legs together so he would find it harder to escape, mumbling incoherent things all the while as she drooled on him. He had no choice then but to fall blissfully back into sleep.

Noticing her husband’s contemplative gaze as he looked outside, Momo sighed and wagged a finger to catch his attention, “No messing with the weather, Shiro. I’m fine.” Cross-eyed, Toshiro reluctantly nodded. “Good,” she chirped. One crisis averted she snuggled closer, and waited for him to put his arms around her.

Suddenly and without warning, colors bloomed in the sky, a multitude of flowers sparkling brightly and dazzling. Momo could only gasp in delight.

‘Fireworks in the snow, huh?’ A far-off memory that couldn’t hurt them now.

Certainly, it was too cold, but drawing the presence nestled in his arms even more closely to him, Toshiro found that he didn’t mind. The fireworks were spectacular yes, but his gaze was permanently drawn downwards. Blue, red, yellow, pink played off across her face in flashes. He could watch fireworks forever illuminated in her eyes. There, they would never fizzle out, the sparks would never die, rather they would shine brightly forever, so long as she kept looking at him.

Suddenly overcome with feeling, he wanted exactly that. He could only whisper her name, even if there were only the two of them, “Momo…”

“Hmmm,” she responded turning to meet his eyes with her own despite the display continuing above them, “What is it, Shiro-cha –“

He was a patient man, he was. And he’ll ask forgiveness for interrupting her later, but at this moment, he wanted nothing more than her lips on his. He should let her get some rest, he should, his mind was clearly telling him that he should, so why was his treacherous body tightening his arms around her, one hand roughly weaving fingers in her hair as he tilted her head back.

She was no better, fingers wound as tightly in his own hair, drawing out a soft groan he tried to muffle against her neck, as he kissed it feverishly, softly biting to leave blooms of his own on the milky skin, a counterpoint to the flowers up in the sky. Hyoten Hyakkaso without his zanpakuto, though these flower burned rather than froze.

There were times he was deathly afraid he would freeze her, but right now, nothing else plagued his mind besides her, and as he drew her down with him, for once he didn’t mind the snow, for he was sure he could warm her as long as he kept her close.

Up in the sky, the fireworks brightly shined and illuminated them both.

…

They write together quietly, Momo occasionally showing him a character to ask his opinion on it. She had already finished with the first one, excitedly showing it to him in a bit of feverish excitement.

The strokes for ‘flower’ and ‘fire’ were lively and vibrant. It matched her perfectly. Toshiro had agreed immediately.

It was the second one they were having trouble with. Toshiro had suggested the characters for ‘spring’ and ‘tree’. It reminded Momo of Tobiume, and Momo didn’t exactly mind it for ‘spring’ matched with his own ‘winter’, but something still felt out of place.

“Isn’t it too early for spring?” In truth, it was more that she wanted more of him reflected in these strokes and lines. She places ‘sun’ next to ‘happiness’.

Hitsugaya-kun only shrugs. Momo could only smile at him fondly. “I hope they’re more like you,” she says as she idly traces the strokes for ‘wish’.

Hitsugaya-kun merely smirks back at her. “Then looks like we’re in conflict since I hope they’ll take after you.”

Momo sticks out her tongue in playful indignation. “I’m sure the kami-sama will listen to my request over yours. I’ve been collecting more luck after all.” ‘Clever and strong,’ was what she had prayed for, ‘just like their father’.

Hitsugaya-kun shakes his head in amusement. Peering over to her side, he looks at what she’s been working on, “That could work.”

Momo hums thoughtfully, looking at the character this way and that. It seems perfect – a wish, a hope, a prayer – but it didn’t seem to be quite exactly what they were looking for.

“What have you got?” She leans more to his side, before bursting into a fit of laughter. If Hitsugaya-kun is embarrassed, he makes a valiant effort not to show it. On his paper, the character for ‘big’ in bold, black, strokes. Momo’s face softens at seeing the character under it, ‘shine’. It might be her own imagination that it seems like it’s glowing.

“They’re perfect.”

…

They made it just in time for the fire festival. Perhaps it was incongruous for them to be burning something they’d been working on for days, but this was just its own kind of prayer.

Both of them hold paper lanterns, in his, ‘Hanabi’ in her own script, in hers, ‘Haruki’ in his. Small bright lights cupped into the palms of their hands. As one they let both lanterns go, up in the sky, where they’ll burn brightly and send all their prayers up to the sky.

Fervently, Momo clasps her hands together, Toshiro a steady and unwavering presence around her.

She hopes.

…

Even if they had hoped for peace to continue, truly their idyllic days couldn’t last. They were still commanding officers, and when Matsumoto shows up on their doorstop one day, he knows exactly what it means.

He knows, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Rangiku likes it no more than her taichou. She can’t even tease the both of them over the marks she spies not covered by Momo’s kimono. “Taichou…It’s Naruki City.”

He closes his eyes in aggravation, fingers closed over the bridge of his nose to stave off the migraine, as Momo and his Vice-captain look at him concerned.

For once, he wants to be selfish. It’s so close, too close. For once, he wants to forget about his captain’s cloak and his responsibilities and just stay here to shelter Momo from everything. Opening his eyes, he meets Momo’s own and is both equally dismayed and encouraged by the resolve he finds there.

Momo didn’t become a Shinigami to be protected. She became a Shinigami to protect. And it’s the same for him (except doesn’t she know by now, after everything, that she was the one he wanted to protect most of all).

Without words, she goes to get his captain’s cloak. If she feels his hands shake as she helps him put it on, then at least only she would know.

She cradles his face in her hands, arms going up to reach him now instead of down. He doesn’t know what she sees in his face, if it looks like he’s about to cry, but she only smiles calmly, ruffling his hair. When before, he had swatted her hand away, now he only leans into the simple comfort. He closes his eyes as he feels Momo draw him down and touch her forehead to his. His erratic heartbeat slows at hearing her breathe.

“I’m off.”

“Please go and come back,” she says as she bows on the engawa. There is no fear in her eyes, only trust as if telling him, ‘go and I’ll be here to welcome you when you return’. He wishes it was the same for him. He swallows before turning forward. He stops Matsumoto with a hand to her shoulder.

He has no words. “Matsumoto…”

Eyes widening in understanding, she starts worriedly, “The reports say there are at least five arrancars, taichou. I already commanded the rest of the troops stationed there to come back. I was planning to handle them myself…but the soutaichou said the both of us needed to be there.” Hitsugaya was glad she didn’t go by herself. He appreciated the soutaichou intervening on his behalf. Knowing Matsumoto, she would have rushed there headstrong and foolish for his sake.

All the points she raised were valid ones, but again all he could say was, “Matsumoto, please…” I need you here.  

There were moments where no words needed to be said, and the communication between a captain and vice-captain could be almost telepathic. This was one such moment, and as Rangiku gazed up at her not-so-little anymore captain, she could only smile in resignation, “Gotcha, taichou. But when you come back, I’m expecting an all-expense paid vacation. I’ve been working my butt off! Hey, Momo,” she called back, already making her way into the house, as Momo gazed at him with a question in her eyes, “Let’s go together!” Hitsugaya only smiled back.

Committing the sight of his wife and vice-captain smiling together, he tightened his grip on Hyourinmaru and set off.

…

Both his mind and body were on auto-pilot. He was glad Hyourinmaru had his back. It wasn’t like back then when his zanpakuto had to artificially mature him just so he could handle his own bankai. He had fully matured in all senses of the word, and had full mastery of his true bankai.

It was good that he was alone. There was no collateral damage except the enemy so he could release Shikai Hyoketsu without repercussions. But without Matsumoto there to support him, he felt more alone than ever.

He was getting tired. He lost count of how many enemies he had slain, of his own wounds and bruises. There was only one thought in his mind – to get home no matter what.

Using his sword as a crutch, he breathed out heavily before suddenly slashing out Hyoryu Senbi at the new presence he felt.

The shadow dodged and clicked his tongue. “Is that anyway ta greet yer elders? Ya look like you’ve been through hell. Need a little hand?”

Disoriented, Hitsugaya could only gape at the newcomer, “Hirako?”

“The one and only.”

Hitsugaya might have thought he was hallucinating but there was no mistaking that too-wide grin and tacky haircut. “What are you doing here? Naruki City isn’t under your jurisdiction.”

That carefree smile suddenly turned serious, “No it’s not, but I know someone who is under my jurisdiction. And I’m sure she’s missin’ a neglectful husband.” Hitsugaya growled at that. “What’re ya doin’ here? Do I have ta tell my daughter to divorce you?”

“For the last time,” a vein ticked in his forehead, this seemed like an eerily familiar experience he was having, “She is not your daughter! And anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

He might have if not for another presence suddenly jumping in, “Oh, what? Am I interrupting a lover’s quarrel or something.”

“Nah, just an in-laws spat.”

What the hell?  

He couldn’t decide what expression he was supposed to be showing. Maybe Hirako decided to finally take pity on him as he decided to answer him. “The soutaichou sent us because it looks like someone forgot to bring their vice-captain.” Heh, more like they persuaded him. Even if that softie hadn’t already been ready to pull him out after hearing he stupidly went alone, Shinji’s sure Lisa’s kick to his backside, and Nanao-chan’s sharp glare would just about do the trick. Eh, a few misplaced forms never hurt anyone. “Color me surprised when I found out Naruki City was actually under the fifth and the eight’s joint jurisdiction. Who coulda been so stupid as to put it under the tenth’s all this time?”

Hitsugaya didn’t know what was going on.

Shinji sighed. The kid could be so slow sometimes. “Oi, Hitsugaya. Lisa also brought her vice-captain. I’m sure two captains and a vice-captain would be more efficient than one captain. Yer not needed here, so wouldja just hurry on to where you’re supposed ta be already?”

Finally shaken out of his stupor, he could say nothing. He put his own misgivings aside, and bowed low.

“Thank you.”

As the tenth squad captain shunpoed out of there, Shinji let out a whistle. “What d’ya know? The kid has manners after all. Let’s hurry this up Lisa. I got a grandchild to welcome.” “Lame,” Lisa replied, completely deadpan.

He let it off.

It was a joyous occasion after all.

…

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t at home.

His mind was perfectly blank.

He couldn’t feel her reiatsu anywhere.

“Hitsugaya-taichou!”

What was his seventh seat doing here?

“Matsumoto fuku-taichou brought Hitsugaya fuku-taichou to the fourth.”

Hitsugaya-taichou immediately left without even greeting him, but Takezoe didn’t hold it against his captain. With a dozen children of his own, he’d been where the young man was now. He only hoped his captain would make it in time.

…

He doesn’t remember how he reached the fourth, only overwhelming panic.

He could feel the temperature lowering, but only distantly, the calls of his title heard in a vacuum as if he was somewhere very far away.

‘Hitsugaya-taichou, please reign down your reiatsu.’

‘Taichou, please control it, it might affect the patients.’

‘It might affect…’

“Taichou!”

He felt as if he was roughly woken up from sleep. Heavily, he lifted his head up, “Matsumoto…”

“Taichou,” Rangiku said more softly. Her little captain wasn’t so little anymore. More than once he’d had to support her when Shiba-taichou left, and even after…

But now, as she sees how he trembles under her hands on his shoulders, subtly curling into himself, eyes haunted, she is taken back to years past, to a little boy so afraid of hurting the people he loves.

Matsumoto’s voice brings him back. He can sense a cacophony of reiatsu, all mingling together, that it was hard to tell them all. Abarai with his daughter, both Kuchikis even, Kira, Hisagi, his squad, members from other squads, her friends, their colleagues, their friends.

But that only serves to forcefully remind him that he was doing it again, he can’t stop it, he’s the greatest danger to those around him, to her, he can’t ever protect her, and as he shivers, the ice creeps up even faster.

“Taichou,” Matsumoto says, voice still soft. Placing her palm firmly against his heart, she pleads, “Please. Listen.”

Boy

A thunderous sound, more presence than voice. Hyourinmaru

Shiro-chan

Toshiro

A sound like wind-chimes, laughter threading every word. He gasps.

“It’s alright,” Matsumoto assures him, smiling brightly. “She’s alright. She knows you’re here.”

…

In the end, both their wishes are granted.

Both their children have her hair, hers lit like a coal flame, his softer and reminding him of forests and trees, the coming of spring. His hair was too unique to be passed onto anyone else, she manages to joke, but no matter because she still got what she wished for. Rubbing both chubby cheeks and coaxing both eyes to open, he sees what she means when he sees his own eyes reflected back at him. Brightly shining with an inner light.

They would shine brightly, he vows to himself, as he envelops her, all of them, to him, while he buries his face against her hair.

“Shiro-chan,” she laughs, the happiest she’s been, “Are you crying?” She hardly if ever has seen him cry. She nuzzles her cheek to his. “What am I to do with my crybaby husband?”

He can’t even manage his usual ‘shut up’ amidst his tears, only hugging them closer.  Thank you.

Momo smiles. The person you’re waiting for will come.

He did. They did.

They were all home.

Okaerinasai.

[eelhound]

"What would it be like to be truly content with what we have? You can understand that in regard to material things, of course, but I also mean it in regard to our life in total. What would it be like to walk down the street like that? Not imagining where you’re going or where you’re coming from but being content with whatever the street, the world, has to offer at exactly that moment in time.

Dogen said it would be like this: 'The mind and the externals are just thus. The gate of liberation is open.' What? Let me explain.

At the Zen center we have a few beautiful tea bowls made by a Japanese potter, all of which are chipped now, because people wash them and stack them in the metal rack, and they’re very fragile. When I talk to our community members about not putting them in the rack, they say, 'They’re too delicate to use. Why do we even have them?' Suzuki Roshi had the same problem with the teacups in his own Zen center. (It must be a Zen center epidemic.) A student complained to Suzuki about the cups. He smiled and said, 'You just don’t know how to handle them. You have to adjust yourself to the environment, not vice versa.'

This is what Dogen was saying, too. The gate of liberation is always open. Liberation from what? Liberation from walking around in a dream, like a zombie looking for contentment outside your immediate and precious life. If only you could actually recognize and receive what is here in front of you, rather than what you wish were here instead. Why is that so hard? I don’t know, but I do know that I certainly have a tendency to want to adjust my environment to myself, not the other way around. Instead, is it possible for us to constantly give thanks for whatever our life gives us? This is how to practice being truly content with what we have — even when it seems impossible.

One of my heroes of practicing this radical contentment is the 18th-century haiku master Issa, who is a beloved poet in Japan. He has a haiku that goes 'Everything I touch / with tenderness, alas, / pricks like a bramble.' Essentially, 'Everything I touch turns to shit.' He had his reasons for saying so. His mother died when he was 3, and he was raised in part by a loving grandmother, who died when he was 14. He was sent away from his home by his father and stepmother, not returning until he was 49. He then met his wife, Kiku. Their first child died in birth. Their second died as a toddler. Then a third child died, and finally, Kiku herself died. It was after their second child’s death that Issa wrote probably his most famous poem: 'This world— / Is a dewdrop world, / And yet, and yet . . .'

Issa was so interested in that 'and yet.' In a body of work inspired by incredible suffering and melancholy, there is also that incredible sweetness of the 'and yet,' which pervades his writing. It’s a sweetness that coexists with sorrow, and it reminds us that sweetness is always available to us, if we’re willing to fully enter our life, just as it is."

- Koshin Paley Ellison, from "Being Content with What We Have." Tricycle, June 2019.