A Lady and her Butler (1/?) [Mei-chan no Shitsuji: Izumi, Kiba]
title: A Lady and her Butler [1/?]
character(s)/pairing(s): Izumi, Kiba
genre: gen, future-fic
wordcount: 493
summary: Every lady requires something different from her butler. And every butler has his own reason for serving his lady.
notes: parts 1 and 2 were written back last December. I thought posting them might motivate me to finish the others; a possible 7 parts in all, I think.
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When Izumi thinks of graduation, she thinks of the most likely route her future will take. She will marry - no doubt for politics - and her husband will be intelligent, sophisticated; perhaps even handsome if she is lucky. She will respect him but she will not love him.
If Izumi hadn't been walking into her future with her eyes wide open she might've found herself losing her serious attitude and falling straight into despair. She is thankful at least that nobody has ever tried to lie to her - a luxury she truly cannot afford.
Izumi's future husband will count himself very lucky, whoever he might be. Izumi will be beautiful right down to the finishing touches and the tiny effects that nobody will ever notice. She will smile, stand gracefully, say all the right things. It will be because of her more often than not that things will all tend to work out. With her soft but firm words and her intense eyes she will make problems simply disappear. Her husband won't only be in awe of her, he will most definitely fall in love with her.
Izumi will still worry. It is a habit she will never grow out of. She might even secretly become a fan of surgical remedies - not for her own sake, of course, but for her husband's sake. For appearances' sake. What would people think if she were to walk around immaculate but for a horrible worry line running across her forehead?
After a difficult day, Izumi will say nothing. She will simply excuse herself from her husband's sight as his gaze lingers after her jealously. She will retire to her rooms, take the cup of tea offered to her. She will curl fingers around the warmth and breathe in the hot steam, allowing it to soothe her tension.
"I don't know how you do it, Izumi-sama," Kiba will say as he fusses in the background with her nightgown, her reading material and her slippers. She will sit with a migraine beginning as her brain struggles to process just how many more things there are to be done, how nothing is ever complete. "Nobody else can manage so many different things as you, in so many different ways, and all with grace and tact!"
At first you might believe Izumi is too wrapped up in herself to notice, but she hears every word Kiba says, always. He might babble - a trait of his own he has never grown out of - but if she listens long enough and hard enough in there she always finds her strength again.
"Kiba," she would say, placing a hand on his wrist both to stop him in his tracks and calm his words, "thank you."
Kiba would nods solemnly, a smile threatening to bounce across his cheeks. And then he would trip over Izumi's bunny slippers and Izumi will laugh for the first time in what feels like forever.
-
character(s)/pairing(s): Izumi, Kiba
genre: gen, future-fic
wordcount: 493
summary: Every lady requires something different from her butler. And every butler has his own reason for serving his lady.
notes: parts 1 and 2 were written back last December. I thought posting them might motivate me to finish the others; a possible 7 parts in all, I think.
-
When Izumi thinks of graduation, she thinks of the most likely route her future will take. She will marry - no doubt for politics - and her husband will be intelligent, sophisticated; perhaps even handsome if she is lucky. She will respect him but she will not love him.
If Izumi hadn't been walking into her future with her eyes wide open she might've found herself losing her serious attitude and falling straight into despair. She is thankful at least that nobody has ever tried to lie to her - a luxury she truly cannot afford.
Izumi's future husband will count himself very lucky, whoever he might be. Izumi will be beautiful right down to the finishing touches and the tiny effects that nobody will ever notice. She will smile, stand gracefully, say all the right things. It will be because of her more often than not that things will all tend to work out. With her soft but firm words and her intense eyes she will make problems simply disappear. Her husband won't only be in awe of her, he will most definitely fall in love with her.
Izumi will still worry. It is a habit she will never grow out of. She might even secretly become a fan of surgical remedies - not for her own sake, of course, but for her husband's sake. For appearances' sake. What would people think if she were to walk around immaculate but for a horrible worry line running across her forehead?
After a difficult day, Izumi will say nothing. She will simply excuse herself from her husband's sight as his gaze lingers after her jealously. She will retire to her rooms, take the cup of tea offered to her. She will curl fingers around the warmth and breathe in the hot steam, allowing it to soothe her tension.
"I don't know how you do it, Izumi-sama," Kiba will say as he fusses in the background with her nightgown, her reading material and her slippers. She will sit with a migraine beginning as her brain struggles to process just how many more things there are to be done, how nothing is ever complete. "Nobody else can manage so many different things as you, in so many different ways, and all with grace and tact!"
At first you might believe Izumi is too wrapped up in herself to notice, but she hears every word Kiba says, always. He might babble - a trait of his own he has never grown out of - but if she listens long enough and hard enough in there she always finds her strength again.
"Kiba," she would say, placing a hand on his wrist both to stop him in his tracks and calm his words, "thank you."
Kiba would nods solemnly, a smile threatening to bounce across his cheeks. And then he would trip over Izumi's bunny slippers and Izumi will laugh for the first time in what feels like forever.
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