Japanese!Actress Anon Meme!

[jactressanon]

J!ACTRESS ANON MEME!!!

You know how there are so many different JE!fic anon memes out there? Well, what about their leading ladies? They deserve as much fic love as the boys do. Which is where this comes in!

Request in the comments! Anon is on, IP logging is off.

Who I Want: (Girl or girls or girl/girl or girl/boy or whatever related to the

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[anonymous]

PART ONE

She hasn't seen Ichi-san in days, but she's used to it by now. Because she knows he's busy doing everything he can with the best of intentions. That doesn't mean she hasn't missed him, and even after all these years, she still feels a sort of tickle in her belly when she looks over the rail to see him trudging up the path, briefcase in hand.

When he was still in medical school and they weren't yet married, he walked in the same way. The slow, measured steps of someone whose mind was a million miles away. Or just a little bit closer, back at the hospital with the scolding nurses and the impatient resident doctors. He moves the same now but with the gleam of the silver band on his left hand that proves that medicine is not his only devotion. Though he forgot their anniversary and sometimes drifts away when they talk, Ichi-san is hers.

"Ichi-san," Haruna calls out to him. He looks up with his tired eyes and smiles weakly.

The floorboards creak when he enters the inn they share with the others and heads for the kitchen. "I was at the shrine today," she tells him as he takes in the smell of dinner. "I stopped at the market on the way back."

"Pork," he says appreciatively, and Haru knows his mouth is watering. She packs onigiri for him with love as often as she can, but he'll surely drop if that's all he eats for days on end. He deserves something better after such a long shift. The inn is empty tonight, just the two of them, and it seems almost too large.

Ichi-san eats a little too quickly, so there's not much room for talking. He only mumbles something about a new patient. Izumi-san, Azumi-san, she doesn't hear him correctly, and he talks about her condition with food in his mouth. She assumes he skipped his lunch that afternoon in favor of treating some patients. His eyes are so weak, fighting to stay open behind the thin frames of his glasses, and Haru worries that he may just pitch forward into his plate.

She nudges him with her elbow. "We'll reheat more for breakfast, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees as she clears everything away. "I don't have to go in until noon tomorrow."

Which means he'll leave around 9:00 or 10:00 because he's stubborn. He goes to take a bath, and after 20 minutes she goes in to wake him up, finding his fingers pruny but his hair unwashed. He stirs while she soaps up his long, messy hair. "Haru..."

"Yes," she says, scratching her fingernails across his scalp.

"Thank you. I should tell you more. I'm sorry."

"You should," she agrees. "Now get out so I can have my bath."

When she comes out of the washroom, it's clear that he tried to wait up for her. The lights are still on, and he's fast asleep with a book in one hand, and his glasses in the other. When they first started living at the inn with the others (when there'd been so many of them), she loved to watch him sleep. She'd taken dozens of pictures of Subject: Kurihara Ichito at rest, playing with angles and lighting, but always from a distance. Now they're married, and he's right in front of her. It's tempting to reach for her camera even now.

Instead she changes into some comfortable pajamas, slipping the book and his glasses away before putting a blanket over him. He's too heavy to drag over to his futon, and she can't bear to wake him again. The floor won't be so bad since he probably naps in chairs at work. "Good night, Ichi-san," she whispers before shutting out the lights and crawling into her own futon.