Chapter Text
The symphony of spring was day by day drawing closer to a finale. The sun reared its head like a golden lion, bright and taunting, a promise of the coming months to be filled with warmth, without even a solitary cloud in sight. The days of rain had drawn to a conclusion; the drought was set to begin.
The thought seemed terribly sad, unusual though that might be. Momo enjoyed those quiet, dreary days, sitting beside the window, listening to the rain spattering against the glass, a cup of tea in one hand, a book in the other. The prospect of losing such tranquility was deeply unsettling. When that burning star spread its light across the azure sky and cast its glow over the land, a restlessness overcame her; she could not truly be still. It felt as though it was wrong to sit unmoving, wrong to remain within the halls of her home.
And so she sat once again, her quill tapping listlessly against the parchment upon which she had been taking notes over one subject or another—everything had melded together in her head since she had allowed her thoughts to become distracted.
The heat of summer would soon fall upon them… Ah, how she dreaded the thought of those overly bright, elongated days. Such intense warmth was rendered only worse by the accursed gowns that were a requisite for her station.
Noticing that she had left numerous smudges of ink blotted in a small radius, Momo placed her quill aside and sighed. A poor habit to nurture. What should she do then if not study? Aizawa had set his expectation; she was to know all this information by the date of their next lesson. Yet, she simply could not remain rooted here like some sort of wilting tree.
A stroll through the gardens might do her some good. After that, she would return straight here and study until her eyes were bleary and drooping. So, having made this resolution, the young woman stood up and stretched her arms, tenderly rubbing at her slightly sore wrist. Perhaps, following her brief respite, she might even take these books and continue her studies out of doors! An appealing prospect, one that quickly perked her dampening spirits.
She held up the skirt of her dress, this one crafted of a fine satin and colored a lovely forest green, as she hurried to exit—noticing that the door to the room adjacent had been left ajar.
She reached out to push it closed, but hesitated, instead taking a step forward and gingerly peeking her head past the threshold. Ah…
A torrent of recollections broke through the haze of weariness and Momo suddenly remembered everything that had taken place in this rather desolate room. The piano stood, untouched since that fateful evening. She could almost see him still, the somber silhouette of a broken young man, his fingers gliding over the keys with the precision of a master. The ghost of a melody lingered in the silence, almost deafening.
Color touched at her cheeks and she backed away, pressing the door shut. She had not had the chance to dwell upon what she had done in the moment. Unwittingly, she traced a finger over her lip, heaving a quiet breath as she recalled. How brazen her manner had been! To kiss a man so boldly, without even a moment of rumination. Oh heavens… Fortunately, he had not seemed too perturbed—though that may have been partially causational by his ever stoic manner. To make matters worse, she had never truly kissed a man before—what if it had been done with poor technique? What if he had truly misliked it?
The poor woman clamped her palms over her face, exhaling a shuddering breath and shaking her head to rid herself of the perplexing conclusions her mind had begun to draw.
The past was, after all, the past; it was there to stay and could not very well be altered. If the young man had indeed taken offense to her actions, she hoped that he would voice his displeasure with her whenever next they met.
So before any more such foul thoughts could flood her mind, the disconcerted woman turned and fled.
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As she had expected, standing beneath the warm golden rays and amidst the brightly colored blooms, the wind softly blowing through her untamed onyx locks—there could pass no thought in her mind save for that of utter contentment. The worries that had so viciously hounded her had faded like the last of night’s darkness with the rise of dawn.
A laugh, loud and free, surged past her lips as she closed her eyes and raised her arms—as though to offer the sky an embrace. The tension built within her quickly melted away like the remnant cold of winter upon spring’s triumphant return.
Indeed, she could not conduct her studies under the dull and dim roof of her home, not when the world beckoned her with such kind warmth and light. Even the sorrow of losing the season of rain waned now that she was bathed in this fine weather.
Breathing a sigh of content, the woman glanced around briefly, assuring herself that she was truly solitary, and plopped down onto the soft grass beneath, even going to far as to fall back carelessly. Bliss. She crossed her legs and folded her hands over her stomach, closing her eyes with a soft breath.
However, this new modicum of peace she had lent herself to was surely disrupted yet again. Behind the darkness of her lids, images of her recollections quickly rose to the surface. They were, as might be expected, of a certain man with miscolored hair and eyes. This time though, Momo found herself not dreading nor fretting of a perceived slight—no, this time she found herself…ah!
To say fantasizing…
Her brows furrowed, a bit of heat creeping up her neck. No, not that word. Even if it did most accurately describe the current state of her ornery mind. Despite the indecency, despite knowing that it was wrong to do so…the young woman found herself dwelling on that kiss—if even it could be called such a thing. And that was the subject of her rumination. She wanted to do it again. Do it correctly—or, rather what the notion of ‘correct’ was in her mind. Momo, despite being inexperienced herself, had heard a number of things from the less-prudish and incredibly taletelling women she had interacted with. Oh, the things that one could hear if they but strained their ears a tad.
Thus, Momo had acquired a strange, perhaps overly enthused notion of what these passionate and intimate exchanges were to be like. Naturally, as a young and innocent maiden…and one with a rather inquisitive nature, she was curious about the likes of such things, not that she would ever disclose this knowledge to another living soul.
So with daring tales of nightly escapades and heated stories of fervor and illicit romances circling about her head, Momo could not but imagine, ehm, that she too might share in a stimulating and fanciful romance of her own. Truthfully, she had, like any other young woman, only dreamed of a sweet and passionate affair, of a charming, handsome young man that would come to woo her with silken songs and silvered words.
Well, now, there was indeed a handsome young man—and Momo with all honesty could say that, yes, Shouto Todoroki was incredibly attractive—but, there was hardly a romance to be spoken of, and neither did he woo or serenade or flatter her as she once would have hoped. The one and only kiss they had shared was a prelude to somber words and tears.
Hah. Romantic indeed.
And so, could she truly be blamed for desiring something…more? For more than a façade, more than platitudes and societal niceties. At the very least—he could kiss her hand!
Oh…what a thought. Burning with shame, the tips of her ears growing warmer with every second, Momo exhaled sharply, clamping her hands over her eyes with a small groan.
Why must she dwell on such things! Why did these infernal ideas dance round her mind in a spectral waltz. She knew better! She was a lady, a proper lady!
“Enough, fool girl!” She chided herself lightly quickly sitting up, her eyes flicking open. Onyx orbs widened as they met with a pair of ice and slate. “Ah…” If warmth had not already been flushed across her neck and cheeks, it surely was then. “You have impeccable timing.” She drawled drily, her eyes narrowing as she huffed, pushing herself to her feet and dusting the grass from her skirts as though she were completely unperturbed by the man’s sudden appearance.
“Do I?” He tilted his head inquisitively, seemingly having misunderstood her sardonic tone.
With a quiet sigh, a wry smile flickered across her lips as she brushed aside a strand of raven-dark hair. He did have a penchant for appearing during rather unfavorable moments—which now begged the question. “What are you…doing here?” She skimmed her gaze over the leisurely-dressed man, eyeing the loose white shirt and plain riding trousers that adorned him in faint surprise. Of all the times they’d met, he’d always been dressed quite impeccably. Still…it was undeniable that seeing him in this light—so careless and cool—it was appealing. “You’re not hiding again, are you?” She asked teasingly, clasping her hands behind her back.
“No.” Came the terse response. And then, “Are you?”
Chuckling softly, she shook her head, still pondering this once again unexpected visit. “No, I was merely enjoy a brief respite from my studies.”
“Sprawled on the ground?” He snorted lightly, lifting a fist over his mouth to mask the sound—but she had heard it and it had sent a tremor through her. “Ah, well…to each their own.”
“I—!” Momo sputtered, both mortified and astonished by the unexpected teasing. But…if it brought such a beautiful smile to his otherwise solemn face, she would gladly endure any such jesting. So, she swallowed her discomfiture and cleared her throat quietly. “Why then…are you here?”
The soft smirk had faded from his lips upon hearing the inquiry—in its place, a faint redness crept up his cheeks, melding with the red of the angry scar. “I’ve come to see you.”
Oh.
“Y-you have?” She swallowed thickly—and suddenly the thoughts upon which she had been dwelling had risen again to the forefront of her mind. No—no of course he hadn’t come for the reasons she was perhaps a tad too desperately thinking of—to see her…perhaps at his father’s behest? Perhaps to ask another one of those strange queries. Certainly not to—
“I wanted to spend some time with you. If…you would indulge me, that is.” Or perhaps she was wrong.
“Of course! I’d be most happy to do so.” The grin that had overtaken her countenance was not one she was completely aware of, neither the bubbling joy rising in her chest. Of course though it was not evident to her, the young man saw these visible changes—the sudden cheer that had begun to blossom over her face. It seemed that he had done something right after all, to inspire such a remarkable, positive shift in her character. The slight timidity, the hesitation seemed to have melted away as though it were ice put to flame—by a simple statement. It seemed that his actions and words carried some weight with her then.
He decided then that he would put this tentative revelation to the test.
And while the young man pondered his revelation, the material which she had so quickly put aside, the books which awaited her back in her chambers returned to her recollection and gave her pause. Her mind was troubled then by this dilemma—to fulfill her promise and learn the information that her tutor expected her to know, or take this rare opportunity to perhaps learn more about her soon-to-be husband. If he had come with the intention of spending time with her, how could she possibly disappoint him?
Oh, what a troublesome decision twas to make.
And it seemed that her vigilant guest had once again realized her abrupt change in expression. “Something burdens you.” He said bluntly, his multicolored eyes boring into her own—there was no escaping that gaze. It seemed to pin her to her place, and he seemed suddenly so much taller, bigger than her. It didn’t frighten her, per say, but it did fill her with a sense of urgency. Momo realized then that if he looked at her thus, she would never be able to hide anything from him.
“Not—not really.” She coughed quietly, averting her eyes. “I was just…I would have to put my studies aside to give you my time.” Honesty seemed the best option in this case.
“Then take them with you. Whatever you need.” Shouto folded his arms over his chest, posturing himself as though preparing to wait.
“Take them…? Are we going somewhere?” Strangely worded, if it were not so. He seemed to imply that they were.
And in reply, the young man nodded. “If you’ve no qualm.” A silver brow quirked upwards, and those glorious eyes kept Momo pinned in enchantment once again. They were, in her defense, very easy to get lost in—after all, one such a dark hue and the other of such a piercing and vivid azure—!
“Right.” She blinked, torn from her trance, stepping away. “I’ll return shortly.” And having made the promise, the young woman bounded away to hurriedly stuff her books and papers away that she might not keep her suitor waiting. It seemed that the dying ember of hope of enjoying a fanciful romance of her own might yet be rekindled.
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How curious, this woman’s dedicated studiousness. Even he could not claim to have been so diligent in his studies, they had always been naught but a tedious chore—with the few exceptions of the subjects he tentatively enjoyed: mathematics, for one, and poetry. An odd combination, he was well aware. His mother had always enjoyed poetry—she had read it to him…and…
Thinking of such things would do him no benefit.
He cleared his throat softly, darting a glance about to assure himself that no one was in his vicinity. Not that it would have mattered, but the topic was one that set him on edge frequently. The young man released a heavy sigh and raised his head to peer into the unclouded sky. He’d surprised himself, in truth, with his decision to come here.
He hadn’t been planning on it. Everything until this point had been purely instinct, so to say. Even now, he was quite anxious, worried—not visible to any that might witness him, however. He wasn’t one to interact with many willingly and so this, this…attempt was highly unusual for him.
What had spurred him to do this in the first place though, was the realization that this woman, so sincere and unconditionally kind, was trustworthy. She had done nothing but show him respect and affability since the moment they had met and it would certainly be remiss of him not to extend to her the same courtesy, albeit a strained and perhaps more awkward version.
Shouto made the decision to push aside his misgivings, his biases and prejudices for his father’s choice of his bride, and make this choice for himself. To understand her character without any preconceived notions, just as she had done for him. And, he had also made the decision, with the encouragement of his sister, after he had somewhat unwillingly told her of his dilemma, that he would try to be more amiable himself. As his sister so eloquently described, ‘no woman wanted a man so emotionally stunted’.
Thus he stood here, waiting for the enthused young woman to return. He still didn’t know quite what this excursion would entail. All he knew was that, as per his sister’s recommendation, he was to take the lady to a secluded and scenic location and allow things to progress naturally from there. As for that natural progression, he knew neither what Fuyumi had been alluding to.
“Ah, thank you for waiting. I hope I didn’t keep you too long.” She’d returned, it seemed. Shouto lifted his head, his eyes darting towards the source of the voice that had broken the flow of his ruminations.
“No—,” It was unknown to him, the cause of the breath that seemed to drag its hooks through his throat at the sight of her. Perhaps she had taken his own garb as an example or perhaps she had simply felt at ease enough to have discarded her elegant gown, having replaced it with a simple white blouse and a thin and an airy blue skirt. And of course, the most blatant difference being the beautiful smile that seemed to shine more brightly than ever the sun could.
Surely it was not…his doing? Was it truly for him that she had donned such a jubilant expression?
She peered up at him, so bright and cheerful, vivacious in a way that he could not understand. “Is something the matter, Shouto?” The way his name slipped off her tongue, so naturally, something quivered within him.
“Ah…no, my apologies.” He brushed aside his hair, mixing fire with silken snow as his fingers raked through the strands. “You—you wouldn’t object to remaining out of doors, would you?” Perhaps she preferred her studies to take place beneath a roof…or she might not enjoy—ah, no, a silly thought. He’d seen her sprawled on the grass not moments earlier; it was evident that this woman did not fear what nature may offer.
“Certainly not! In fact, had you not come, I would have brought my materials outside with me.” When she smiled, little creases appeared in her cheeks. Not that…he payed any heed to such detail. “Well, lead the way! I shall follow where you lead.” With a small sound, the young woman tugged at a seemingly heavy bag that was tossed around her shoulder. He watched her struggle for a moment, biting his tongue to keep himself from grinning at the endearing sight.
After a short time, he sighed and shook his head, a small smile flickering about his lips. “I’ll take that. Go, my mount is waiting.” Her eyes widened as she gave up her burden—heavy indeed, he wondered how many books she had taken.
A slight coloring rose to her cheeks. “You mean—both of us…on one…?”
It was impossible to know whether this was a reaction of displeasure or that of excitement. However, he could only answer with what he knew to be true. “Yes.” He nodded simply, unperturbed himself at the prospect. “Ah, do you not ride?” She didn’t strike him as the type to fear horses, but one could never know.
“I do.” She murmured, her eyes flicking away when he tried to meet them with his own. The rose of red blossomed further across her cheeks and a slender finger stretched upwards to twirl a strand of onyx hair. Suddenly, she shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut briefly. “Yes, I do. Forgive my hesitation. Onward!”
Alright then. Raising a brow at the abrupt change of demeanor, Shouto shrugged and hefted the pack of books higher, making to follow behind the young lady as she picked up her skirts and marched forward.
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Momo refused to allow the trepidation of sharing a single mount with her suitor come between her excitement at spending time and possibly attaining a tentative friendship with the young man. And in truth, she was rather elated at the prospect of riding horseback, pressed against him—maybe his arm would even snake around her waist, warm and strong and—
Good heavens! What on earth had overcome her? Where had her decency gone? Ah, to question such a thing when the answer was blatant—Momo had evidently been spending a bit too much time with her rather promiscuous friend, the peony-haired maid.
So the young woman continued to stomp along the garden path, her face seeming to be as warm as a hearth on a frosted winter’s eve. It was alright to be attracted to him, she reasoned, he was to be her husband after all—and it was certainly no evil thing to think her husband handsome. There was a point, however, where this attraction might get be considered…excessive, such as now, for example, when they were barely on the threshold of amiability towards each other.
Then the idea crossed her mind that he might struggle with similar feelings and thoughts regarding her. He was a young man, was he not? It was…if she was truthful, a flattering thought, though… She shot a glance behind her, eyeing him carefully. Yet…the way he acted, he gave her no cause to believe that he did grapple with such dilemmas; in fact, from everything Momo had seen of him—Shouto was probably the most detached young man she had ever met.
Though she did not want to admit it, the fact was a little disheartening to the poor girl.
Alas, twas not the end of the world, surely. Whether he admired her or not, he would still be marrying her, and they would still become intimate friends—so she liked to think.
A quiet sound escaped her lips once her eyes had fallen upon the beauteous mount stamping impatiently by the garden gate, the reins slung around the metal bar in precaution. It was a magnificent beast, and though Momo knew little of horses, she understood that this one was well cared for. Its glorious raven-dark coat glossy and gleaming, mane and tail like pure silken night. It was taller than her, a colossus, it seemed—a true stallion, unlike the docile little ponies she had ridden on—ah, yes, that was what she had considered riding.
Momo chanced a look at the young man as he carefully transferred her books from her sack and into the saddle-bag, wondering at his attire and whether he ever galloped, full speed through hail or storm like some sort of gallant knight. It was a pretty picture, to be sure.
“Does this beauty have a name?” Momo stepped closer, gingerly reaching up to offer the beast her hand, intensely aware of a burning gaze on the nape of her neck as she carefully skimmed her fingers along the stallion’s muzzle.
“Tenebrae.” His strong voice answered, and she could not help but think that he sounded confidant now—assured and unstifled—no longer so much the expressionless, uncaring tone he’d used so often before. It was like the rolling thunder rumbling through darkened clouds. Goodness, she knew it wasn’t purposeful, but his speaking like so—it did strange things to her stomach.
The young woman hummed thoughtfully as she stroked the gorgeous beast. “Tenebrae: dark.” A fitting name for so dark a creature. She looked from the stallion and caught sight of him staring at her, his gaze of ice and stone boring into her own. Her breath caught in her throat, but she did not look away—though undeniably the desire to do so was tremendous. Yet, even before she could, his attention slid away, his eyes peering curiously at something behind her.
“Ah…a cat.”
A sound of inquiry leapt from her throat and she turned her head to scour the area for the supposed feline that Shouto had seen.
Her own eyes widened as she realized that there was indeed a cat—and it was her cat. “Bear!” She cried, both amused and concerned at the elderly creature’s appearance. Undoubtedly, he had escaped the manse and had decided to take a romp around the estate. “Oh, you silly thing.” She sighed, stepping away from the snorting stallion and moving to pick up the groaning feline. Scratching the animal’s head, she turned and smiled at the young man. “This little one is Bear.”
“That’s not little.” Shouto retorted immediately, blinking at the size of said ‘little’ feline. And truly, the cat was indeed not diminutive. Bear was large and heavy and took up near all the space in her arms as she tried to unsuccessfully hold him. He didn’t quite enjoy remaining suspended for a long period of time.
“He’ll always be little to me.” She sighed happily and squeezed the protesting animal gently. “I’ve had him as my companion since he was naught but a tiny kitten.” She ran a loving hand through his long, soft grey fur—like he himself was a cloud hanging heavy with rain.
She hadn’t noticed him approach, but Shouto was suddenly standing before her, his eyes trained on the impatient feline. “…May I?” His voice grew soft, hesitant, and a pale pink spread along the bones of his cheek.
With a quiet laugh, she nodded, biting her lip to stifle her blossoming mirth once the man had warily raised his hand, slowly reaching for the cat’s head. Golden eyes met dual-colored orbs and the game of trust commenced. It was almost comical, the utter concentration and seriousness with which Shouto approached the task of stroking a feline.
“I’d always wanted a cat.” He admitted tentatively, weaving his fingers carefully through cloudy fur. “I like them.”
It seemed that her tongue opted to act without her mind’s permission once more. “Well, when we wed, you may see Bear as often as you wish.” Heat flooded through her veins and a wash of mortification rose to her face in the form of a crimson blush. Why had she said such a thing! Surely the man did not want a reminder of the arrangement he had been coerced into!
Yet, as much as Momo worried and fretted, it was again for naught. The man merely hummed, nodding faintly. “I’ll hold you to your word.”
Goodness, he truly was so nonchalant about…everything. She gaped at him as he tenderly pet her now-soothed cat, astonished. Perhaps there was less of an aversion to this marriage than she had assumed.
“Oh…” Shouto stopped suddenly, stepping away. “Shall we?” Remembering that they had formulated plans to go elsewhere, the young man beckoned her to follow him, moving to stand beside the snorting stallion.
Momo carefully set the creature down and nodded, picking up her skirts and gingerly approaching the great beast’s side, eyeing the saddle with trepidation. She certainly wasn’t tall enough to reach it herself.
“Allow me.” Without a moment of hesitation, the young man stepped towards her and placed his hands on her waist. Before she could even utter a sound of surprise, Momo had been lifted and positioned atop the saddle—and fluidly, Shouto leapt and hooked his foot in the stirrup, easily lifting his other leg over the saddle.
And so the young lady found herself trapped between the stallion and a warm, solid figure—whose hand had found its place on her hip to steady her. With his free hand, he gripped the reins, tugging them off of the post and adjusting his grasp on them.
Within moments, the stallion was turned around and the two of them were setting off, leaving the familiar grounds of her estate and to God knew where. Well, presumably, Shouto knew as well, seeing as he was the one to suggest this excursion in the first place.
They were going to be outside, so much she knew to be true—she assumed that it was nowhere dangerous—she trusted that she would be safe—ah! The redundancy of her thoughts; such tended to occur when the young woman was flustered and attempted desperately to focus on anything other than what was causing her dismay. In this case, her proximity to the attractive young man who was…holding her, well, more intimately than anyone ever had—in the pleasant sense. It was an enjoyable sensation. Dangerously enjoyable.
He was very warm, and sturdy. His chest, pressed to her back, it was…very nice. With a burning face and downturned eyes, Momo realized just how greatly he affected her—so much so as to do away with her eloquence, her composure, her focus—and then she realized that her studies were probably not going to be so much ‘studies’ as distractions themselves. Indeed, distractions from the temptation sitting just behind her.
“Is this alright?”
His voice spoke in her hear, soothing and low—yet it seemed to strike an unholy warmth within her like a match.
“Yes!” Momo had answered quickly, a little too quickly, perhaps, to be considered an entirely composed response—and in fact was one that quirked one silvered brow upwards as the young man stared at her with some measure of unconvinced suspicion.
“You…are you certain?” He once again gave her the chance to voice her discontent, mayhap even to dismount. Still, the young lady stubbornly nodded, heaving a breath and strengthening her resolve.
“Yes. This is perfectly fine.” It sounded to him as though she were trying to convince herself rather than him. But what could he do but accept her assurance—even though he could feel her practically straining to push away from him, perhaps a subconscious reaction. She was tense, no doubt unaccustomed to this, and was attempting her utmost to stay as far away from him as possible.
And while the young man so distressfully ruminated upon the nature of her discomfort, Momo herself was struggling with unwanted feelings of…well, they could not be called decent, surely. She was indeed holding herself straight as a lamppost—and not because it was oh so horrible to be flush against him—rather, completely and utterly the opposite. And she would rather that he not know this. It was a tad too soon, as she had thought the second time that day, to be desiring of him so ardently.
It was also somewhat uncomfortable, bouncing up and down on the back of the stallion, even more so with her posture. Leaning against him might alleviate some of this discomfort…
And so, heaving an even heavier sigh, Momo turned her head and steeled herself to ask. “Shouto…might I…lean against you?” If she gained his permission, perhaps these thoughts might dissipate.
“You may.” He answered coolly, disregarding her awkwardness for the moment, though he found it to be quite humorous and it brought a small smirk to his lips. But even he could not stifle the stammering of his heart once she had finally allowed herself to relax and leaned fully against him.
Despite his outward composure, he was surely as jumbled in his mind as the poor young woman. He too was unaccustomed to women—with the exception of his own sister—and he too knew not what to do with himself.
So the pair settled upon peering anywhere and everywhere but at the person they were nestled so near to, both choosing to pretend that the other did not exist, for the moment, as difficult as that was.
Momo paid no heed as to the direction they were heading in, simply taking in the scenery of the glorious golden day. Somewhere along their path, they had veered from the confines of civilization and had ventured into the wooded area that laid at their doorstep. Great towering pines and oaks stood sentry along the side of the weathered, well-trodden road. Sunlight dappled the mossy ground, smears of golden hues smattered over vividly verdant vines and ferns. It was entrancing—Momo had never been permitted to traverse the wood, though she had always been highly curious about the growing forest, the green depths and all the creatures and flora that resided within it. And so, now, her excitement mounting, she slowly forgot about the tension, the nervousness which had been gnawing at her chest.
Wide eyes, bright and filled with inquisitiveness, she leaned forward, drinking in the glorious views, the vibrancy and absolute stillness that accompanied the great wood. It was utterly tranquil, untouched, serene, filled with a natural beauty that could by no means be replicated by any human hand.
As though sensing her rapidly growing giddiness, the young man behind her stifled a quiet laugh, adjusting his grip on the reins, his eyes narrowing slightly with pleasure—at the knowledge that he had once again done something right. Her head swiveled this way and that way, her eyes so endearingly wide, shining with that ever-curious light. Good. He wished that that light never fade—that no one ever quench it.
“Ah, how much further?” She looked back, her lips stretched into a jubilant grin, her cheeks glowing with exhilaration.
“Not too long now.” It seemed that the young woman had grown too restless to remain seated—her desire to explore quelling her prior discomfort. He wondered briefly how much she might like this location that he had chosen, how much her smile might grow. He found that it was infectious. Her smile, that is. When he looked upon that mirthful countenance, his own lips twitched with want of replicating that joy, as though it might warm his frosted soul.
No, it was more along the lines of—she, the woman herself, was the spark of warmth, the fire that had been lit, that had slowly grown and grown without his even realizing that it had been so. She was the fire that roared against the icy wall he’d so carefully built—it had roared and burned and thawed at his cold nature until simply looking at her was like looking at a bright and beautiful star; it filled him with wonder and the recognition of the cage of loneliness he had unwittingly trapped himself in through his years.
She had been the moon, showing him the way through utter darkness—allowed him to understand how revoltingly docile he’d been—how easily he’d allowed himself to be pulled into despair and loathing and pettiness. The way he had so pointlessly spent his years trying to win back his freedom, when in truth, he’d only been drawing further away from it. From happiness.
That strange and alien word, still. He’d gone and spoken to his sister of it as well, trying to dredge some sort of comprehension. He had indeed gleaned some understanding since having asked the lady Yaoyorozu herself—yet it still seemed so…distant. And perhaps it was why he had decided to do this—to bring her here with him, to try to find that ‘happiness’ himself.
Maybe it was working. He certainly didn’t feel as burdened, here, spending this time with her.
“What…is that sound?” The woman had turned her head to the side, her eyes peering into the greenery, searching for the source of the noise that had suddenly come to her attention.
“The river.” Shouto lightly kicked the horse’s side and quickened their pace. It was a location he was well familiar with, one to which he had often escaped to in his earlier youth. It had always been a haven, a place of peace and sanctuary, with nothing and no one to intrude upon the quiet save the little forest creatures that sometimes darted to and fro.
The young woman was astonished, never having dreamed of trespassing so deep into the wood—never having dreamed of setting her sights on such beauty and tranquility, in the company of a young man, no less.
Moment by moment, the sound grew—the roaring wrath of the howling river—and moment by moment, Momo’s elation swelled.
The wealth of green suddenly gave way, the trees opening to form a path. It was as though she had been swept into a land of dreams, of a fantasy beyond that which she had seen before. Despite the rushing of the river, such stillness reigned. Even through the deafening noise, it seemed silent—as though that sound was a steady hum that simply faded into the serenity. The sunlight smeared its golden light over the little grove, setting the mossy floor alight with a verdant fire.
Blue water, capped with churning white waves raged against the grey stone piled along the shore, an angry, incessant flow. Unwise, she thought, to stray near to it lest she tumbled into the rapids and be pulled beneath.
No sooner had Shouto pulled the stallion into a halt did the young woman slide off of the horse and find herself standing on a soft carpet of moss. It took a moment, to allow the scenery to truly settle in her mind—to allow the beauty and magnificence to seep into the recesses of her memory and remain lodged there for all eternity, for she could never forget. No, far in the future, it would duly remain one of her most treasured recollections.
“It is to your liking, I presume.” His voice was soft as he spoke into her ear, standing close so as to be heard over the roaring river.
The young woman nodded, enthused, before responding. “Yes—it is. It’s wonderful here.” So distant from home, from people.
“Well, we’ve arrived…you can go on to your studies.” He stepped away, moving to remove her books from the saddle.
“And you?” She pondered aloud, twining her fingers together with a sly smile.
“I come here to think. There is naught else I need to occupy me.” He shrugged, but upon taking out the book she had purposefully brought along, he paused briefly, his eyes scanning the cover in surprise. “Poetry…?” The young man tossed a glance at her, a slash of crimson rising in question.
With a quiet chuckle, Momo ambled to his side, pulling out the book on the principles of chemistry she had brought along for herself. “Yes. I had thought you would say something of the sort—but the thought of leaving you with nothing to do while I sit and disregard your presence did not sit right with me, thus…” She tapped the bound book of poems in his hand with a satisfied smile. “Feel free to peruse it if your thoughts grow dull. It is a collection of my own favorites.”
Her materials in hand, Momo left his side to make herself comfortable near enough to the bank to feel the cool air from the river’s churning waves, but still upon the soft verdant moss that coated the ground.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, pushing aside any distractions that might keep her from focusing all her attention upon the information before her, and then, she opened her book to the page she had been looking over prior and began to read.
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It amazed him, truly, the woman’s ability to concentrate. How she managed to remain utterly unmoving for hours on end, completely dedicated to her studies, he did not know. He surely did not have the same measure of patience, and even the compilation of poems could not satisfy his restlessness after what seemed the fourth hour of silence and stillness. He had once thought himself an endlessly patient man…his opinion on that matter had changed, however.
No, the young lady still sat, perfectly graceful and poised, her eyes locked upon the subject matter. He supposed, his own gaze pinned upon her form, that to observe her while she so attentively saw to learning the information before her was no evil thing. Thus Shouto decided to occupy his time with memorizing her features—the curtain of ink that framed her face, the inquisitive gleam that seemed to never leave her dark orbs, the way she so lightly took her lip between her teeth, the faint color that rose to her cheeks…
Was it strange, he wondered, to take such keen notice of these otherwise ordinary things? Was it strange to ascribe such great fascination to them? His eyes may have been multicolored, but both saw perfectly well; Shouto was very much not blind, nor was he ignorant to the beauty this young lady possessed. It was evident to him, beyond evident, that she was undoubtedly the object of many young men’s affections. That had been clear at that frivolity as well, when he had chased away the lecherous little man that had dared to cradle the young woman so intimately.
The thought sent a bolt of something akin to displeasure through his chest. It was an unpleasant recollection, the sight of her panicked and despaired countenance, the vile grin that crossed the man’s lips. He never wished to see such a thing again. If that meant that he was to attend every damn dance and event that she did, if that meant he was to stick to her side and remain her partner through every waltz, quadrille, reel—he would. How could he otherwise allow his consciousness to remain clean knowing that she was suffering in the hands of another man.
“Ah…is something the matter, Shouto?”
Uncharacteristically, the young man startled, having been decidedly consumed in his ruminations. He blinked and looked up, meeting a bemused stare. Clearing his throat, he curtly shook his head. “No. Why?”
“You were glowering at me quite intensely…” She murmured, tearing her gaze away and pulling absently at the moss beneath her. Had he really been? Perhaps she thought that she had done something to spite him to earn such a hateful stare. Well, that was to be amended.
“I hadn’t realized. I beg your pardon—I was merely recalling something unpleasant.”
The young woman seemed unconvinced, reaching up to twirl a strand of ink around her finger with a rather concerned frown. “Perhaps it might be easier to share your burdens—if, that is, you don’t mind.” She offered quietly, once again biting her lip. What a mesmerizing motion.
Er… He shook his head lightly, chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her—after all, if she was in part the subject of his musings, then it would be right to do so. Besides, if they were to be wed—he would hope that honesty be a part in their relations. “I had been thinking of the night of the dance at your estate.”
He didn’t know what it was specifically, but the color drained from her cheeks and the woman went ashen. “I—is that so?” She stammered in a nervous manner, tugging at the lock.
“Yes. That…man.” He frowned, his brows once again tugged down at the memory. “The one that had been harassing you. I would rather something of the sort not happen again. I’d see to it myself.”
And the warmth returned to her face as a rose of red blossomed over her neck and crept up to her ears. “Ah! So that’s what you meant…” She cleared her throat, evidently having been expecting him to say something else. As he stared at her, he wondered what it was that she had thought he would say. “Such things are not uncommon for me, unfortunately.” She sighed heavily and shut the book of chemistry, seeming to have finished her studies.
“Are they?” He wasn’t too surprised to hear it. Yet it still did not sit well with him.
The woman nodded, her eyes downcast and filled with a forlorn light. “They were less bold when my father still lived, alas…since his passing, much has changed.” Her voice hitched, a crack appearing in the seamless mask of optimism. He caught a glimpse then of the sorrow that lingered beneath the façade of cheer.
He’d known, of course—everyone had known. Everyone knew of the Lord Yaoyorozu’s passing—everyone knew of the decline of the house, of their influence, their wealth, their status. He had not thought, though, not really, about how this might have affected her. He despised his own father—but the mournful light in her eyes spoke to him of feelings other than abhorrence, and he thought that maybe this woman still carried the weight, the burden of that pain. The agony of having lost someone she adored, having lost nearly everything.
Yet, with the pain in her soul, she still reached out to help him mend his own, with a smile no less. How selfish was he to remain ignorant to the weeping wounds in her heart while she so tenderly, carefully mended the tears in his own. She had no cause to be so selfless. Her life had assuredly been difficult, dare he say, more so than his own.
She was a young woman, fatherless, surrounded by vultures that clawed at every side—yet she kept her courage, her joy, her kindness. He had thought this once, but he was reminded of it again: Momo Yaoyorozu was strong.
I will make my own happiness
Could he ever…be that happiness? Could he ever truly bring her joy?
Shouto found himself thinking that he desired it. He desired to be the one to protect her, to bring a smile to her lips and the light to her eyes. To hell with his misgivings—it mattered not that his father arranged this engagement. She was still human, she still had her own feelings—and so too did he. And he chose then to seek joy within it, just as she had suggested.
And so, he also decided to risk her displeasure.
Shouto carefully rose from his place, briefly sweeping off any stray leaves that might have stuck to him, and he began to move towards her.
She had been quiet since her last words, but at his sudden motion, she looked up, confusion marring her countenance as he settled himself beside her. Confusion shifted first to alarm, then to astonishment, then slowly melded into what he hoped was content as he slid his palm over her cheek and pressed his lips to hers.
Just as she had done to him that night.
Both remained still, neither willing to draw away, finding comfort in the warmth and closeness of the other. It was a pleasant sensation. Heat crawled up his neck as the realization began to dawn on him.
He—
Shouto jerked away as though scalded, his own face burning with shame and a guilty sense of longing. Without looking at her, he clamped his hand over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the moss as he pondered what on earth had come over him that he had invaded her space so carelessly. Everything within him was ice and flame, scalding and freezing again and again. Yet, that sliver of fleshly desire within him purred with pleasure, demanding more.
Heaven’s sake—he was a grown man, not some pubescent youth driven mad and uncontrolled with lust—it would not do to dishonor her any further than he had. Though…she had been the one to kiss him first. Shouto truly realized then that he was absolutely and completely inept at anything and everything to do with women.
So silent he remained until a quiet giggle sounded, half-drowned by the rushing of the ravine. Daring to glance at the woman that was his bride, he found that a smile brighter than the fires of the burning sun had alighted her entire face—there was no sign of displeasure nor discontent nor loathing anywhere to be found.
“You—” Gingerly pushing aside the twining red and white silk that had fallen over his eyes, her fingers brushing against his forehead and sending a bolt of lightning through him, the woman blushed and continued. “You needn’t look so shamed. Oh, goodness, Shouto…that was simply…adorable.”
He was…adorable? Him?
“I suppose I can then assume that you did not dislike it.” He murmured awkwardly, suddenly unsure of himself—whatever confidence he had mustered prior having scattered like ash.
“I most assuredly did not dislike it.” She affirmed with a nod, her hand reaching out—slowly clasping his own. Dual-colored eyes followed the limb with stifled wonder and he carefully turned his own hand palm up. Their fingers twined together.
It fit. Her hand fit well within his own. Like it belonged there.
He took a breath, measuring his words cautiously. “You…have burdens as well, and…if you need to, you may share them with me.” Perhaps not so eloquently put, but surely she comprehended his meaning. He would listen to her if ever she needed him to, though he probably could not offer words of consolation.
He felt her fingers tighten around his briefly. “Thank you, Shouto. I extend the same courtesy to you. You may tell me anything you wish.” He watched as her eyes darted away, her lip caught between her teeth, a quiet warmth blooming on her face. “Mayhap we may find solace in each other.
“Indeed.” Humming in agreement, he raised their tangled hands and angled them so that the back of her fist was facing him. With burning cheeks, he lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I think…I look forward to our union, Momo.”
Her voice was a whisper, a caress of the breeze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Likewise.” Swallowing thickly, the raven-haired beauty leaned forward, and the half-snow, half-scarlet melded into ink.
And so, like young lovers, timidly beginning a passionate tryst, the pair cautiously met the other, a strange and pleasant warmth budding in the depths of their hearts.