Entry: Shippo, All Grown Up
Title: Painting
Rating: K
Author: lesser.portrayed (sweetly_beth)
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warnings: character death
Pairing/Characters: Shippou, OC
Summary: Tense and painful is the only interaction between two youkai in modern-day Tokyo.
Her eyes were like ice, though Shippou had never seen green ice before, and he had a good deal of centuries’ worth of experience to draw from, so it came as a surprise to him that June evening when he opened the door Kouga’s young wife. She was glaring impatiently at him, arms crossed and right foot tapping a rushed rhythm on the carpeted floor outside his apartment. A bad day, perhaps, the kitsune mused, offering a friendly smile to the irritated woman.
“Good evening, Yokoyama-san,” he greeted politely, discretely wiping the paint off his hand on the back of his jeans. “Won’t you come in?”
She glanced briefly down at the clean hand he offered and sniffed haughtily, stepping coolly past the puzzled man and into the main room. Shrugging it off, he followed her and relaxed, deciding that his casual self would make her feel more comfortable.
“Thank you for having me,” she began, taking in the disheveled appearance of the apartment, “in your home...”
“Heh, it’s more like my studio,” Shippou laughed, clearing away some old sketchbooks to make room for her on the black couch. “Sometimes, I don’t even make it to my bed, but the desk in the back isn’t that bad.”
“I can only imagine,” the wolf youkai muttered, sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch. She crossed her legs at the ankle, and had a very prim posture. The best the kitsune could manage was a half-slouch on the stool in front of his easel. Nervously (he had more trouble associating with his own kind than with the oblivious humans), he offered some tea and a morsel, just to be hospitable. It had been a long time since his last encounter with a youkai, and the customs were rather obscure, especially now that they weren’t all attempting to kill each other.
She politely refused.
“You know what I’m here for,” Yokoyama stated shortly, looking around the room purposefully.
“The portrait is done?”
“Oh...yeah, yeah, it’s done.”
He was disappointed. After years of isolation, he expected that one of the visiting youkai would be a bit more friendly, and would have been willing to make a little small talk, even if it wasn’t about “the time before”. Even a rant about the subway system would have been welcome.
Keh, what were you expecting, brat? I thought you were used to being alone...
He moved through the apartment smoothly, avoiding all the traps and pitfalls of the chaos and disarray of the back rooms. The portrait rested against the back wall, covered and valued above the other commissions he was working on. Shippou took another peek at the finished painting, grinning widely and rather wistfully at the redhead in the picture.
“It’s right here,” he announced, bringing it to the front where Yokoyama suddenly perked up, staring anxiously at the canvas in his hands.
“May I...?”
He nodded, allowing her to examine the vivid painting: Ayame as he knew her.
“She...looks beautiful,” the young woman said hoarsely, her eyes no longer hard but now filled with longing and sadness. Sympathy seeped into his face; he knew the pain of losing a parent (he’d lost both) and yet she probably wouldn’t let him act on it.
“So, you said you preferred checks,” Shippou said, hardening his tone. “I have yet to see one.”
Blinking rapidly, she was brought out of her melancholy. “Right, right, I’ve got it here.”
She was fishing around in her bag, and he took that moment to catch her off guard.
“I don’t understand just why Kouga can’t know about this.”
The check was in her white hand, but she didn’t extend it just yet. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You’ve already spoken with him; you know why,” she answered testily, allowing him to take the slip from her. “He’s all about moving on and forgetting the past, but I just can’t do that.”
Shippou grinned at the amount written on the paper, and he glanced back at her, feeling a lot better about the transaction. The roots of her hair had begun to show their natural color, making her look old to most people, but he remembered, from that short encounter at the wolf caves in a long-past Japan, that her short bob had always been gray.
“I’ve heard about what’s been happening in the youkai circles; everyone’s all done with the past, huh? And Kouga’s at the head of all that?”
The wolf youkai lowered her gaze, staring at her mother’s brilliant green eyes and delicate, elfin face.
“You should know, from the fact that he took me as his wife, that he’s not ready for that,” she chuckled half-heartedly, clasping her purse shut and taking up the painting. “Despite what he claims, he regrets many things, one of them being that he lost the chance to be with her.”
“Feh, we all made mistakes back then,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning away so she wouldn’t see the regret on his own face. “So he pushed her into another man’s arms and then ended up killing her…it’s something he has to live with. Just like we all have to live with our regrets. It’s a youkai’s lot.”
“You...”
She stopped, as though to consider her next words. Her expression softened.
“I’ve been told you turned out like InuYasha,” she confided weakly. “I think...that I would have liked to meet him.”
Shippou felt as though his mouth had been cemented shut, and he couldn’t even find the air to breathe. Was he like the gruff, solitary hanyou? Now, after all these years?
He offered a bitter smile. “Now that’s a compliment, you know...he was a lot better in person, though you would have to get around his Sankon-tetsusou attacks first.”
There was laughter in her eyes for the first time since he met her, and in the end, he was able to get her to the kitchen table for coffee before she closed up and melted back into the sea of everyday people streaming under the large, open window of his apartment. It was then that Shippou felt the urge to see that hanyou again, and for the first time since he had begun to grow into his tails, he acted upon it.
Rating: K
Author: lesser.portrayed (sweetly_beth)
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warnings: character death
Pairing/Characters: Shippou, OC
Summary: Tense and painful is the only interaction between two youkai in modern-day Tokyo.
Her eyes were like ice, though Shippou had never seen green ice before, and he had a good deal of centuries’ worth of experience to draw from, so it came as a surprise to him that June evening when he opened the door Kouga’s young wife. She was glaring impatiently at him, arms crossed and right foot tapping a rushed rhythm on the carpeted floor outside his apartment. A bad day, perhaps, the kitsune mused, offering a friendly smile to the irritated woman.
“Good evening, Yokoyama-san,” he greeted politely, discretely wiping the paint off his hand on the back of his jeans. “Won’t you come in?”
She glanced briefly down at the clean hand he offered and sniffed haughtily, stepping coolly past the puzzled man and into the main room. Shrugging it off, he followed her and relaxed, deciding that his casual self would make her feel more comfortable.
“Thank you for having me,” she began, taking in the disheveled appearance of the apartment, “in your home...”
“Heh, it’s more like my studio,” Shippou laughed, clearing away some old sketchbooks to make room for her on the black couch. “Sometimes, I don’t even make it to my bed, but the desk in the back isn’t that bad.”
“I can only imagine,” the wolf youkai muttered, sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch. She crossed her legs at the ankle, and had a very prim posture. The best the kitsune could manage was a half-slouch on the stool in front of his easel. Nervously (he had more trouble associating with his own kind than with the oblivious humans), he offered some tea and a morsel, just to be hospitable. It had been a long time since his last encounter with a youkai, and the customs were rather obscure, especially now that they weren’t all attempting to kill each other.
She politely refused.
“You know what I’m here for,” Yokoyama stated shortly, looking around the room purposefully.
“The portrait is done?”
“Oh...yeah, yeah, it’s done.”
He was disappointed. After years of isolation, he expected that one of the visiting youkai would be a bit more friendly, and would have been willing to make a little small talk, even if it wasn’t about “the time before”. Even a rant about the subway system would have been welcome.
Keh, what were you expecting, brat? I thought you were used to being alone...
He moved through the apartment smoothly, avoiding all the traps and pitfalls of the chaos and disarray of the back rooms. The portrait rested against the back wall, covered and valued above the other commissions he was working on. Shippou took another peek at the finished painting, grinning widely and rather wistfully at the redhead in the picture.
“It’s right here,” he announced, bringing it to the front where Yokoyama suddenly perked up, staring anxiously at the canvas in his hands.
“May I...?”
He nodded, allowing her to examine the vivid painting: Ayame as he knew her.
“She...looks beautiful,” the young woman said hoarsely, her eyes no longer hard but now filled with longing and sadness. Sympathy seeped into his face; he knew the pain of losing a parent (he’d lost both) and yet she probably wouldn’t let him act on it.
“So, you said you preferred checks,” Shippou said, hardening his tone. “I have yet to see one.”
Blinking rapidly, she was brought out of her melancholy. “Right, right, I’ve got it here.”
She was fishing around in her bag, and he took that moment to catch her off guard.
“I don’t understand just why Kouga can’t know about this.”
The check was in her white hand, but she didn’t extend it just yet. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You’ve already spoken with him; you know why,” she answered testily, allowing him to take the slip from her. “He’s all about moving on and forgetting the past, but I just can’t do that.”
Shippou grinned at the amount written on the paper, and he glanced back at her, feeling a lot better about the transaction. The roots of her hair had begun to show their natural color, making her look old to most people, but he remembered, from that short encounter at the wolf caves in a long-past Japan, that her short bob had always been gray.
“I’ve heard about what’s been happening in the youkai circles; everyone’s all done with the past, huh? And Kouga’s at the head of all that?”
The wolf youkai lowered her gaze, staring at her mother’s brilliant green eyes and delicate, elfin face.
“You should know, from the fact that he took me as his wife, that he’s not ready for that,” she chuckled half-heartedly, clasping her purse shut and taking up the painting. “Despite what he claims, he regrets many things, one of them being that he lost the chance to be with her.”
“Feh, we all made mistakes back then,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning away so she wouldn’t see the regret on his own face. “So he pushed her into another man’s arms and then ended up killing her…it’s something he has to live with. Just like we all have to live with our regrets. It’s a youkai’s lot.”
“You...”
She stopped, as though to consider her next words. Her expression softened.
“I’ve been told you turned out like InuYasha,” she confided weakly. “I think...that I would have liked to meet him.”
Shippou felt as though his mouth had been cemented shut, and he couldn’t even find the air to breathe. Was he like the gruff, solitary hanyou? Now, after all these years?
He offered a bitter smile. “Now that’s a compliment, you know...he was a lot better in person, though you would have to get around his Sankon-tetsusou attacks first.”
There was laughter in her eyes for the first time since he met her, and in the end, he was able to get her to the kitchen table for coffee before she closed up and melted back into the sea of everyday people streaming under the large, open window of his apartment. It was then that Shippou felt the urge to see that hanyou again, and for the first time since he had begun to grow into his tails, he acted upon it.