Matchamaking
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“Do you remember it?” Takasugi asks gently. Katsura knows he is the only one privy to this gentle tone and he thinks himself selfish to be so pleased about it.
“No,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering upwards. It is a lie he doesn’t regret uttering and his heart flutters. “Sing to me so I can remember”.
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He confirms his distaste for the name by the pungent taste it leaves in his mouth as it falls from his lips. They no longer call him by his real name, and he almost forgets who he is.
They call him Shiroyasha.