(Requested)

manga spoilers

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It was enough that you managed to save me. It was enough that you were there to tend to me when I was sick and dying. Although you had the reputation of a criminal, someone crude that stole from people, you never treated me that way. The three lines on your arm symbolized the crimes you made against the city, and the scars on your back reminders of the beatings you'd taken.

Being bedbound didn't give me a lot of options, but I would hear some strings of gossip every now and then. You were a hot topic around town. The eleven year old who killed seven men with his bare hands, crushed their insides, beat them when they tried to take your life. At first, I wondered about you, and I admit I was a bit scared.

When Father brought you home, I expected the worst. I knew he gave up on me, despite the false shine in his eyes and the kind smile upon his face. Mother had already done so by ending her life, and I thought you were the executioner that would decidedly kill me. Had he finally snapped, tired of the misfortune I brought down upon him?

I was so sure I was a burden.

But you came.

You cared.

Like a blessing from heaven, your love was all I could feel. When I was down, you were up helping me regain strength. Your passion pushed me into the next day, even though I was certain I wouldn't make it. The months turned into years, and I lived. I hung onto that tiny thread you spun and it pulled me into recovery.

For that, I was already eternally grateful.

But you didn't stop. 

I would sometimes feel your lips press against my forehead when I pretended to sleep, relishing in the sensation of softness grazing on my skin for the slightest moment. Your hand would slip into mine, intertwining our fingers and you would sigh, eyes lingering about my face for a few minutes. 

And I hated the fact that you always hesitated to kiss me. I would feel small, short breaths on my lips, then hear the smallest of groans, and the rustling of fabric as you pulled back, releasing my hand. When you neared me, my senses would be overtaken by the scent of fresh air. Oh, how I longed to meet that smell again.

Through your honeyed eyes and plush rosy lips I could feel your adoration. We'd lie down together, ever so hopelessly in love and just stare at the ceiling. I begged you to tell me fairy tales about the wonders of the outside world, but you'd always just smile and blow it off. Oh, how I longed to someday go somewhere with you. 

Whenever I thought about it, my face would flush and then you'd get worried I was running a high fever again. Silly Hakuji. The damp towel against my forehead wasn't nearly as alleviating as your lips. I'd wait for the wet cloth to be lifted so my skin could breathe again, and smile in graciousness at you. 

I told you I didn't have a fever, Hakuji.

Well, sorry for getting worried about you.

To that, I would just laugh and shake my head, knowing that it was because of my own uncontrollable emotions that caused you to be this way. So I settled for holding your hands and praying that things would stay this way for just a little bit longer.

Speaking of your hands, I loved them very much. The tips of your fingers were calloused, and so were your palms. I remember being prone to massage them at any chance I got. The sand-papery feel was originally foreign, but after touching it day after day, I could distinguish it out of so many textures. 

Your grip was strong enough to make me feel that I was safe, despite the minimal contact. I wanted to always hold on, to never let go of your warmth. Tingles ran up my arm whenever you'd intertwine our fingers, lacing them neatly together. It made me happy, so much so that my lips would curl upwards into a gentle smile, and a light blush would coat my cheeks, dusting my skin with the faintest tinge of pink.

I remember going to the festival one time, a couple of years ago. How joyous I was, to finally be living the dream I'd thought about for the whole time I was sick. Enjoying the night life with you, with your arm discreetly wrapped around my waist. Though my kimono was a bit too big, due to all the weight I'd lost during the period of illness, it was still the best I'd felt in a long time.

To be out and about with my love.

I remember finally being able to see the glory of what fireworks were. The flecks of light bursting in the sky resonated within the depths of my heart. With every pop and crackle, the sky lit up with merry colors. They were like pockets of hope bursting in the air with such liveliness, creating such delight in their wake. 

And when I turned to you to admire the shine upon your skin, I found that you'd already begun looking at me.

Gazing into your eyes, it was like time itself stopped. We both froze, embarrassed that the latter had caught our irises taking sneaky glances at one another, but underneath that feeling laid content, possibly even relief. With another boom, a light purple firework set off into the night, filling the stars with its own brilliance, the biggest explosion yet.

Our first kiss, underneath the lavender limelight.

I was so sure I wanted to marry you. So we went to festivals again and again until I admitted my feelings upon the third one. It wasn't really a shock when you said yes, but I couldn't help but laugh and giggle through the whole night. A bubbly feeling rose up in my chest and stayed there, only amplifying with your constant pecks after the proposal. Butterflies spread inside of me, fluttering their delicate wings, tickling my stomach.

It was all because of you.

Because of you, I could manage to see the next day.

It was a shame that I had to leave so soon.

Maybe if I had fought hard enough, I could've stayed.

All this talk about me, but no consideration for how you felt.

I'm selfish, aren't I? Hakuji, I'm sorry, but I want to be selfish again. I want to hold you in my arms, I want to feel your calloused hands cup my face, and for your soft lips to press against mine like they did before. For your scent to envelop my senses again, I would give anything for that to become a reality. I want to touch you, to truly know that you're still out there. 

I hate the fact that I didn't get to say a proper goodbye, so at least let me say another hello.

You've fought so much that you forget what you're doing it for. Is it for bloodshed? Is it for gratification? Pride, perhaps?

I know deep inside my heart that you're too good for that, Hakuji.

So please, stop, relent yourself to death. Come back to me.

Please, come back home.