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Mizuki was peeling oranges. Nothing complex, just oranges. Digging his thumb carefully into the center, feeling as the peel gave way under the pressure and split, taking advantage of its weakness and pulling back the skin to reveal the tender flesh underneath.
He split them into flawless segments, laying them into a spiral that seemed to make him dizzy whenever he looked at it for too long. It was hard to be proud of his handiwork. But he admired it anyway from the corner of his eye. The citrus in his nostrils was growing stronger than the incense he'd lit several minutes ago.
But it was sweet, and he didn't care as long as he got the end result he was looking for. It didn't matter that the juice was seeping into the papercut on his finger.
He found himself humming as he made it to the last orange. It was a soothing, simple melody that he thought he'd long since forgotten. He hadn't even thought about it since the day he'd noticed his first white hair.
When he'd asked Lady Shion about the colour change, it didn't seem like she'd cared much, only yanking it out of his head to stare at it for several moments, and then saying that it was nothing to worry about. Within a year, his entire head had turned white. He didn't mind it now; it looked cool. He only wished he was lucky enough to dye it that colour instead.
The oranges were finished, and his humming stopped abruptly as the clicking of keys in the door sounded. It seemed to be perfect timing.
“Mizu, I'm- Oh!” Kiriko cut herself off, surprised to see him happily standing by the counter, orange spiral in hand.
“Surprise?”
She didn't reply, instead quickly walking over to give him a peck on the cheek. It was hard for him not to blame her for being so taken aback. He didn't like to think of how the state in which she had needed to leave him in bed that morning.
The nightmare had been worse than usual; the blood of others on his hands and their bodies at his feet. Their faces had been distorted and blurred, but they often were now. There were just too many to remember. It had been his own screams that had woken him up, and the guilt that had pierced through him at Kiriko’s horrified expression caused the trembling of his hands to become unstoppable.
None of that mattered now. Kiriko wrapped her arms around him and began to sway their bodies to a made-up rhythm.
“When did you get oranges?”
“This morning,” he murmured against her ear, “I just felt like I needed to get out for a bit…” He felt her cheeks shift as she smiled.
“It was nice weather today, wasn't it?” She said softly, pulling her head away from his to look him in the eyes. Somewhere in her voice was a chuckle.
It had been nice weather, actually. Unlike her, Mizuki enjoyed the rain and grey skies. Maybe it put him in a worse mood like everyone said it would, but it was comforting. His lips quirked up at the edges.
“I liked it.”
Kiriko giggled. “Of course you did, Mizu. I'm being serious.”
“That's not like you.” He hummed, enjoying the way she rolled her eyes at him. It was always such a precious thing.
“I don't need to be,” she shrugged, “you have enough seriousness for the both of us.”
“If you say so.” But he knew she was right. Like a peace offering, he leaned and grabbed the plate of oranges, waving it in front of her nose. “They'll lose all the juice if you keep ignoring them…”
She snorted. “Not sure that's how it works.” Despite her sceptical look, Kiriko reached for a slice anyway. The beauty of its flavour was immediately present on her face.
“Is it good?” Mizuki asked, suddenly anxious.
“Anything prepared by you is good, but… Where did you get these oranges? They're ridiculously good.”
“Just from the market,” he shrugged, “I didn't put crack in them or anything.”
Kiriko spluttered a little bit. “Well, when you say it like that…”
“Yeah, um, I promise I didn't.” He realised it as soon as he said it, and as always Kiriko immediately pounced. It’d be funny if it wasn't at his own expense. But anyone on the outside looking in could tell that she trusted him completely. Besides, what point would there be in putting crack in oranges of all things?
“I believe you.” She grinned, biting into another slice straight after finishing the last. “Aren't you gonna try some?”
Mizuki faltered slightly. They'd been meant for her. To tread on something that he had so delicately prepared for someone he saw as a potential goddess felt wrong. “Um-” He began, and then cut himself off.
She stared at him, slightly puzzled but chewing all the while. “It'd be a shame to waste all your hard work on only little old me.” Her voice was sweet and coaxing; honey dripping onto a plate of sugar.
“I'm not very hungry.” That was true. Yet it still felt wrong to say.
“Not even a little nibble?”
“They're all for you, Kiriko.” He insisted, setting the plate down on the counter directly in front of her. Her nose wrinkled slightly.
“Just try one, Mizu! They're so good.” It was so hard to deny those big, beautiful brown eyes. He glanced down at the plate to avoid being turned into stone. But then there were her wrists, her slender hands and manicured nails. Mizuki had memorised every single ridge and curve of her, even down to the fingerprints. Even they were seemingly guiding him towards just trying one of the oranges that she praised so highly.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I'm okay for now. Maybe later, yeah?”
She blinked slowly. It was so unlike him to refuse an offer of food from her, even if it was something he'd made. He knew how strange it looked, and he couldn't find the strength to care. What mattered was that she enjoyed the oranges he had so lovingly prepared.
What mattered was that her shrine of a body would remain untainted by his curse.
Seemingly reluctant, Kiriko nodded. “Okay. But you have to try at least one. They're so yummy.”
“I will,” he offered up his pinky, “I promise.”