making things right
Fandom: Nabari no Ou
Pairing: Gen, really, but I'm sure you could make a case for Miharu+Yoite.
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: Miharu has a penchant for saving things.
Notes: Written mostly because that one 10 second scene towards the end of Episode 18 with the cat rubbed me wrong. So, uh, I guess spoilers for episode 18? It's set right after that episode ends.
Miharu loses track of how much time they spend shivering into each other’s bodies on the stairs before he manages to coax Yoite into heading back to the hospital. It’s a while, at least: the admission of his feelings for Yoite, if only in his own head, shakes him up worse than the snow on his skin, and Yoite himself seems to be too cold to properly move. He’s too big for Miharu’s sweater, so he simply hugs the older boy, offering everything he can give, his presence and body heat and his unwavering support.
They trudge back, their moods melting and weighing down their bodies like the liquefying snow weighs down their clothes. The snow crunches under their feet, cracking through the background din of distant Christmas music and a kitten’s pathetic mewls.
Miharu stops, startled from his self-contemplation. “Wait a moment,” he says. Although it is completely absurd for him to request an ill person in their pajamas to wait in the snow for even a second longer, Yoite stops without question and looks at Miharu with curiosity.
Backtracking a bit, Miharu follows the sad sounds of loss and confusion, and finds the little alleyway he passed by earlier. The kitten is still there, as is its departed mother. Its inquiries are weaker now, either from their lack of response or from its own exhaustion, and the kitten is curled up in a little ball just close enough to touch her cold body. The mother is almost entirely blanketed in white.
Miharu feels the same pang of sadness in his chest at the sight, worsened by the knowledge that he had simply left this scene without a thought. He crouches down and reaches out to the kitten, which hisses and spits and bites at him while it backs further into the protection of its mother’s motionless form.
By this point Yoite has followed him, and the expression on his face as he observes kitten and corpse makes Miharu fear that he’s going to freak out again. Instead, he tightens his jaw and glances away, angling his head forward to let his bangs hide his face like his hat normally would.
Relieved, Miharu keeps his hand out-stretched until the kitten loses its interest in rebuffing him. He pulls his sleeves down over his fingers for protection and, before it can get a chance to protest, scoops up the little creature in his make-shiftedly mittened hands, nestling it carefully inside the front of his sweatshirt. It throws a squeaky fit, thrashing and clawing at him in a way that would be quite ferocious if it was about four times bigger. As such, it just leaves little tears in his clothes and skin. He winces and cuddles the kitten closer until he can calm the furry terror.
All the while, Yoite eyes him sharply from under his bangs. “What are you doing?”
Miharu meets his look. “It can’t stay here,” he says, glancing into the alley to the mother cat, covered in a layer of snow - the only kind of burial the universe can be bothered to give her.
Yoite follows his gaze and, if possible, gets even more sullen. “It doesn’t want your help,” he points out.
Miharu shrugs, adjusting his grip on the angry kitten. He moves in and under Yoite’s arm to force the other boy to rest some of his weight across Miharu’s shoulders and continue their interrupted walk back to the hospital. “No,” he agrees, “but it needs it.” Yoite slants his gaze away and doesn’t respond.
Miharu glances down to the little bundle in his hold. It’s small and fuzzy and helpless, but it’s still tenacious, with eyes wide and piercing in a way that is funnily familiar. “Its mother probably died trying to save it,” he says softly.
“Then it killed her,” Yoite replies, toneless. “She would have been better off if she’d never had it.”
“I don’t think she would think so.”
Yoite’s body is tensely coiled like a bow ready to let fly and Miharu notices he’s shaking a little, though his posture does not suggest he’s cold. Miharu knows he’s close to something here, some grand comprehension. It’s a feeling not unlike figuring out the hijutsu, and aggravatingly just as elusive. He wants to stop them again, cradle Yoite’s face in his hands and make him explain himself, explain his reasons for wanting to disappear, for the dead look in his eyes that is so much like looking in a mirror, to make him just let Miharu in so he can fix it, whatever it is, anything.
But in a few more strides they’ve reached the hospital’s front steps and from there they are inside. Kazuho is talking to an orderly nearby and jumps to attention when they appear, hurrying over to fuss and cluck over their departure and Yoite’s state. Already Yoite has pushed away from Miharu and staunchly refused any assistance from the medical staff, limping his way back to his room unaided and taking with him any opportunity for understanding. Miharu watches him go, feeling as though he’s just had a door slammed and locked in his face.
“-Where did you two disappear to? Everything was so crazy with Gau waking up, I hadn’t even realized you two were gone until it was too late!”
Kazuho, Miharu realizes, is standing practically nose-to-nose with him, hands on her hips and aggressive maternal instincts kicking in at full force. In response to her tirade, he blinks. She sighs and eases off.
“You two,” she says, shaking her head. She glances down the hall in the direction Yoite has gone, and concern makes he gaze sad and heavy. “Still, Yoite-kun shouldn’t be moving around like this …”
It’s not like this is news to Miharu, not like he doesn’t think the same thing on a fairly regular basis, but just the same it makes him tuck his chin in close to try to block the words out. The kitten stirs and mews once. Kazuho starts, somehow having missed Miharu’s little bundle in all the commotion.
“Ah, who’s this?” She leans forward a bit to get a better view, then frowns. “Miharu-kun, we can’t have animals in the hospital.”
“It’s an orphan. It’ll die,” he says, stubborn. He clutches the kitten closer. It has finally given up fighting him and accepted the warmth he offered for what it’s worth. He raises his head and meets Kazuho’s eyes, fully willing to fight her tooth and nail for this little cat’s safety and not entirely sure why.
Kazuho frown deepens, still surprised by this new side to Miharu. She holds his gaze for a beat and the frown melts away. “All right. We’ll see about warming this little guy up and getting him some food, hm?”
Tension he was not even aware of holding eases out of Miharu’s body in one big gust. He nods, satisfied.
Kazuho’s face brightens into a playful smile. “And then we can give him to Yukimi.”
Pairing: Gen, really, but I'm sure you could make a case for Miharu+Yoite.
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: Miharu has a penchant for saving things.
Notes: Written mostly because that one 10 second scene towards the end of Episode 18 with the cat rubbed me wrong. So, uh, I guess spoilers for episode 18? It's set right after that episode ends.
Miharu loses track of how much time they spend shivering into each other’s bodies on the stairs before he manages to coax Yoite into heading back to the hospital. It’s a while, at least: the admission of his feelings for Yoite, if only in his own head, shakes him up worse than the snow on his skin, and Yoite himself seems to be too cold to properly move. He’s too big for Miharu’s sweater, so he simply hugs the older boy, offering everything he can give, his presence and body heat and his unwavering support.
They trudge back, their moods melting and weighing down their bodies like the liquefying snow weighs down their clothes. The snow crunches under their feet, cracking through the background din of distant Christmas music and a kitten’s pathetic mewls.
Miharu stops, startled from his self-contemplation. “Wait a moment,” he says. Although it is completely absurd for him to request an ill person in their pajamas to wait in the snow for even a second longer, Yoite stops without question and looks at Miharu with curiosity.
Backtracking a bit, Miharu follows the sad sounds of loss and confusion, and finds the little alleyway he passed by earlier. The kitten is still there, as is its departed mother. Its inquiries are weaker now, either from their lack of response or from its own exhaustion, and the kitten is curled up in a little ball just close enough to touch her cold body. The mother is almost entirely blanketed in white.
Miharu feels the same pang of sadness in his chest at the sight, worsened by the knowledge that he had simply left this scene without a thought. He crouches down and reaches out to the kitten, which hisses and spits and bites at him while it backs further into the protection of its mother’s motionless form.
By this point Yoite has followed him, and the expression on his face as he observes kitten and corpse makes Miharu fear that he’s going to freak out again. Instead, he tightens his jaw and glances away, angling his head forward to let his bangs hide his face like his hat normally would.
Relieved, Miharu keeps his hand out-stretched until the kitten loses its interest in rebuffing him. He pulls his sleeves down over his fingers for protection and, before it can get a chance to protest, scoops up the little creature in his make-shiftedly mittened hands, nestling it carefully inside the front of his sweatshirt. It throws a squeaky fit, thrashing and clawing at him in a way that would be quite ferocious if it was about four times bigger. As such, it just leaves little tears in his clothes and skin. He winces and cuddles the kitten closer until he can calm the furry terror.
All the while, Yoite eyes him sharply from under his bangs. “What are you doing?”
Miharu meets his look. “It can’t stay here,” he says, glancing into the alley to the mother cat, covered in a layer of snow - the only kind of burial the universe can be bothered to give her.
Yoite follows his gaze and, if possible, gets even more sullen. “It doesn’t want your help,” he points out.
Miharu shrugs, adjusting his grip on the angry kitten. He moves in and under Yoite’s arm to force the other boy to rest some of his weight across Miharu’s shoulders and continue their interrupted walk back to the hospital. “No,” he agrees, “but it needs it.” Yoite slants his gaze away and doesn’t respond.
Miharu glances down to the little bundle in his hold. It’s small and fuzzy and helpless, but it’s still tenacious, with eyes wide and piercing in a way that is funnily familiar. “Its mother probably died trying to save it,” he says softly.
“Then it killed her,” Yoite replies, toneless. “She would have been better off if she’d never had it.”
“I don’t think she would think so.”
Yoite’s body is tensely coiled like a bow ready to let fly and Miharu notices he’s shaking a little, though his posture does not suggest he’s cold. Miharu knows he’s close to something here, some grand comprehension. It’s a feeling not unlike figuring out the hijutsu, and aggravatingly just as elusive. He wants to stop them again, cradle Yoite’s face in his hands and make him explain himself, explain his reasons for wanting to disappear, for the dead look in his eyes that is so much like looking in a mirror, to make him just let Miharu in so he can fix it, whatever it is, anything.
But in a few more strides they’ve reached the hospital’s front steps and from there they are inside. Kazuho is talking to an orderly nearby and jumps to attention when they appear, hurrying over to fuss and cluck over their departure and Yoite’s state. Already Yoite has pushed away from Miharu and staunchly refused any assistance from the medical staff, limping his way back to his room unaided and taking with him any opportunity for understanding. Miharu watches him go, feeling as though he’s just had a door slammed and locked in his face.
“-Where did you two disappear to? Everything was so crazy with Gau waking up, I hadn’t even realized you two were gone until it was too late!”
Kazuho, Miharu realizes, is standing practically nose-to-nose with him, hands on her hips and aggressive maternal instincts kicking in at full force. In response to her tirade, he blinks. She sighs and eases off.
“You two,” she says, shaking her head. She glances down the hall in the direction Yoite has gone, and concern makes he gaze sad and heavy. “Still, Yoite-kun shouldn’t be moving around like this …”
It’s not like this is news to Miharu, not like he doesn’t think the same thing on a fairly regular basis, but just the same it makes him tuck his chin in close to try to block the words out. The kitten stirs and mews once. Kazuho starts, somehow having missed Miharu’s little bundle in all the commotion.
“Ah, who’s this?” She leans forward a bit to get a better view, then frowns. “Miharu-kun, we can’t have animals in the hospital.”
“It’s an orphan. It’ll die,” he says, stubborn. He clutches the kitten closer. It has finally given up fighting him and accepted the warmth he offered for what it’s worth. He raises his head and meets Kazuho’s eyes, fully willing to fight her tooth and nail for this little cat’s safety and not entirely sure why.
Kazuho frown deepens, still surprised by this new side to Miharu. She holds his gaze for a beat and the frown melts away. “All right. We’ll see about warming this little guy up and getting him some food, hm?”
Tension he was not even aware of holding eases out of Miharu’s body in one big gust. He nods, satisfied.
Kazuho’s face brightens into a playful smile. “And then we can give him to Yukimi.”