[Week 9, Day 3 | Video ]
I --
[ Her expression is one of wariness. She has been noticing the Hitomi malfunctions, of course, and the number of rather irate people on the network ( Read more... )
[ Her expression is one of wariness. She has been noticing the Hitomi malfunctions, of course, and the number of rather irate people on the network ( Read more... )
[ This name that she has is the name that Ken-chan gave her. There was something very important about that act of naming, that which brings something into existence. It is painful to not have a name, to be nameless, to be a thing, to not have a place in the world. Yachiru's place is on Ken-chan's shoulder. He put her there, just like he gave her her name when before she was nothing, a being in a small body, and she was very aware of her smallness even if she could not understand it. She understood her smallness because of the largeness of the rest of the world, the streets of the Kusajishi district filled with the very large feet that moved on by, kicking up dust which made her cough and choke. Dust the color of the blood dried into it and the sounds of the screams from far, far overhead, which she could not see because she was always in the mud back then. Back then, before her name. She crawled. And she saw. She saw red. There was always so much of it. It was very pretty, especially when the sun set, and the puddles took on a kind of shine and glittered. This was her childhood, her tiny kingdom, her nameless one, for she did not have a name, and therefore she could not name anything either. She didn't even have the language or the vocabulary to describe her world, only colors. Only the red mud and the puddles and Ken-chan sitting like a god with his jeweled sword.
He gave her a name and he put her on his shoulder, and that is where Yachiru has been for a very, very long time. She has learned to love her smallness. Her smallness is, in fact, very important. It is attached to her name, and it is attached to his shoulder, and her place in his life. Ken-chan is large. Yachiru is small. This is how the world must be. This is their world, a world of moments. A world where they wait for the next battle. For the next thrill.
But right now...
Right now, Yachiru is distracted from the ever-constant search for battle and thrill because of the promise of sweet things. Chewy dango in mitarashi sauce on a stick. Candy. Summoned from somewhere, she doesn't know where, but she supposes -- she can do some summoning! This sounds exciting, very exciting. ]
How do I summon some candy? I don't have any money, is that okay?
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[ And not so unlike Yachiru, Chrome's name was also given to her by another: Kuromu Dokuro. And she had not known her childhood by the colours of the world, but by the absence thereof. A grey monochrome universe of isolation and daydreams and pain, until that moment when Mukuro had come into her existence and Chrome had been born from Nagi.
(In their intimate moments, there are times when he will call her Nagi, still, and she will smile and accept that he remembers her beginning.
She wanted, once, to become him. And once, she would have corrected any who said she was not. But now, she corrects those who might wish to suggest she is anyone besides herself: She is Kuromu, now. Chrome. Nagi, in the solitude of their room. Nagi, on the doorstep. Nagi, in the bedroom. Chrome, to the world. And this is all she has desire of being.)
So perhaps Chrome has, too, learned to love her smallness.
She runs her fingers through her long hair, absently.
(It is nothing like his was, now. There is no way by which one could mistake their silhouettes.) ]
I -- I suppose I can buy you some, Yachiru.
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