Work Text:
Yushiro takes up painting in his free time.
When he paints it's always Tamayo, it's always her gentle smile, her calm nature, she looks serenely at peace in those paintings. But she's gone and all he has left of her is Chachamaru, ever since Tamayo's died, he's felt more of a duty to protect Chachamaru more than ever. Perhaps he wanted to protect what remains of her while he still has the chance.
When night falls, he goes outside to buy paint.
Every color he buys is accurate to Tamayo herself, then he browses the shelves for brighter and far warmer colors.
When he returns home, he pats Chachamaru on her head and goes back to his study filled with a maddening amount of canvases. He can't forget Tamayo, she's too precious. He picks a small canvas at first, then blots out the shape of a flower, adds the darker shades for shadow, lighter for light, and gently adds final details, more so being petals with far too much detail.
Then, he cleans his brush and picks the shades that match her skin, he paints her hair with beautifully accurate detail, her eyes, he takes the most time with.
He loved her then, and he loves her now, he'll wait as many years as it takes to see her again. All while painting for years and years, Tamayo with various hair styles, surrounded by flowers, her beautiful smile, some paintings have her hair down, and when he paints he always has Tamayo with him, her hairpin is still as beautiful as it ever was, but it could never outweigh Tamayo's own beauty.
When he finishes his paintings he dates the back of the canvas.
He'd never get sick of her, truly, why would he? Tamayo is the epitome of beauty, she is kindness incarnate, but, he knows her original husband and children had never left her thoughts, when she studied, she always seemed deep in thought. Perhaps they haunted her heart and mind.
Maybe he'd been too insensitive back then, now, within every painting he apologises to her. He lets her beauty outweigh all the words in his mind and heart.
Yushiro spends the other half of his days cleaning, he keeps the place as dust free as he can, he starts from the bottom and works his way up. Sure his life is a cycle of monotonous tasks, but it’s something he can do.
He knows Chachamaru is always here with him though, he knows she’s not alone at least, they’ve got each other, just them two against the world.
He realises he’s running out of space in his study. He moves the paintings of Tamayo elsewhere, and replaces the already filled canvases with brand new ones. It’s a cycle he keeps alive, barely, it seems.
He’s kept all of Tamayo’s old books, he still has a sample left of the medicine Tamayo and Kocho made when they worked together. Maybe he’ll need them in the future, but he’s learned quite a lot from her notes and studies.
Sure Tamayo wasn’t here, but it felt wrong to read her notes. It felt like a sin, a cardinal one that’ll banish you to hell. Maybe all this knowledge will be of use one day.
He uses it for painting.
Now when he paints Tamayo again, he adds a red spider lily, and small needles that used to collect the blood samples. He never makes them distract from the real beauty; Tamayo.
When he loves, he loves forever.