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Entry tags:
Fic - Colors
Ibuki ran.
He ran to the river, zig-zagging around people and ignoring their shouts of surprise and annoyance. He ran until all he could hear in his head was his own gasping breath and not the sound of Shizu’s voice echoing endlessly in his memories. He ran until he tried to stop and instead slid down a little ways down the embankment, his hands flying out behind him to slow his descent.
And then he flopped back against the earth, his chest rising and falling with his heaving breaths.
The sky that day had been beautiful – clear and impossibly blue, like if Ibuki had reached up into it, he would have brought down some perfect shade of paint, the color dripping from his fingers. He almost wanted to try it, to see if such a thing would even happen. Because if it did, then he would be able to know for sure that what she had told him earlier had been a dream.
But the sky wasn’t perfect anymore. As the sun set out on its daily journey to leave them all behind, it left streaks of fire in its wake, flames of other colors; pinks and reds and oranges and, just like on a flame itself, they were followed by a wholly different blue. Night would cover the town soon. He should go back to the house.
In the failing light, though, Ibuki brought his hands up to his face – would he try to collect the colors of the sunset and smear them over anything he could use as a canvas? – and he squinted, trying to make out everything he saw on his palms. The remnants of ink staining his fingers from a piece he had finished a couple days before. The fresh green of grass from where he had slid just now. Pink and raised stripes from where the ground had tried and failed to cut him open. Colors and shapes and almost-injuries. All these things made sense. All these things he could see and touch.
Ryuunosuke, we’re going to have a baby.
What Shizu had told him is a mystery. He can’t just reach inside her and pull out a color and understand. He would have to wait, now, and Ibuki has never been particularly patient. Waiting will leave plenty of time for him to think about things and worry and…
Did his father go through this, too?
The thought whispered through his head without warning and so suddenly and yet somehow so loudly that Ibuki sat straight up, his face falling into its familiar scowl. His father. A man he rarely thought of, if only because he had so few memories of him to begin with, but outside of what he could remember, Ibuki never had a positive opinion of him. How could he have called himself a man when he couldn’t even take care of his own family, when his own wife and his own son couldn’t do anything to take care of themselves, when he was their only protection?
“I thought I would find you here.” Her voice fell down to him and Ibuki immediately turned to look up at her. Shizu stood just off the path beside the river, small but confident, her hands clasped in front of her stomach. His gaze rested there for a few moments, as if trying to see through her hands and her kimono and her skin to see the life apparently now growing inside. But he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. Not yet.
When he looked up to see her face, he was met with only a small smile. “You said you were going out for a few minutes, but when you didn’t come back, I thought you had gotten lost in your work.” She gestured vaguely toward him. “But I see that’s not the case.” He couldn’t get lost in art if he didn’t have any supplies, after all. Ibuki pushed himself to his feet and climbed the short distance up to the path, waiting for what would come next. Shizu was quick, much smarter than he was. When he stood in front of her and glanced at her face, he noticed that her smile had disappeared. “This is about what I said, isn’t it.” So confident was she, that she didn’t even phrase it as a question. Ibuki couldn’t deny it, anyway. He had been caught and he would have to deal with the consequences. That was life. At least Ibuki was mature enough now to know when to quit, instead of shove some excuse between them in order to save face.
Dropping his gaze back to her hands, he reached out for one, tentatively. Being married for these past few years had taught him a few things, mostly to read into Shizu’s body language and tone of her voice, or else he’d get slapped again – though it had happened and it would more than likely happen again. But he had tried and he wondered if that was one reason Shizu let him take her hand without a fight. Good behavior yields rewards, right? “I’m not unhappy – “
“You still ran away.”
Any excuse he may have had died in his throat at her blunt honesty, at the fact that he did exactly that. He could tell her any number of things, all true things, but it wouldn’t change what he had done.
Suddenly he felt particularly stupid.
All he could do was look down, but then he saw their hands and he bit his lip, remembering what it was he was supposed to do in this situation, something he had learned all those years ago back in Kyoto.
“…I’m sorry.”
For a few moments, impossibly long and awful for Ibuki, they just stood there, letting the world pass them by. But then Shizu released his hand and for a split second Ibuki feared the worst. That she had had enough of him, that she had had enough of his stupidity. So when he felt her hands on his head, pulling him down to her level, he didn’t dare to breathe, to hope, not until she brushed aside his bangs to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. Dinner will get cold.”
His eyes snapped back up to rest on her, a hesitant relief clear in them. Surely it wouldn’t be that easy, to just apologize and let everything else fall into place on their own. Shizu wasn’t like that. She pointed out things that were wrong and she waited until Ibuki understood.
Even so, she took his hand again and led the way back to their house.
They walked in silence the entire way, but as long as Shizu held his hand, Ibuki felt safe and grounded, like things were going to be okay, even if in reality he had no idea what would happen next. Only when they made it back to the house and she took Ibuki to the well to wash his hands, scrubbing them between her own, did she speak up again. “I’m scared, you know.”
“What?”
Her focus on one of the inkstains on his fingers broke so she could look at him. And smile. “You can relate. Never had a baby before. Never even had a younger sibling to take care of. It’s scary because it’s new and something we’ve never dealt with.” The way she said it and then lifted his hand closer to his face as she studied the stain on his finger, as if it wasn’t all really scary, confused Ibuki. But it also amazed him. Shizu really was something else. “Did you just pour ink all over yourself or something? This is stubborn.”
“But you’re happy, right?” Somehow that was the more important part. He knew the answer. When she had told him the news, she had smiled, although a little hesitantly, but it was a smile nonetheless. Shizu looked up at him again and cocked her head to the side.
“Of course I am. There’s no one else I’d want to have a baby with.”
Staring wide-eyed at her, Ibuki couldn’t speak. It wasn’t as if he never thought she didn’t have faith in him – she had more than most people – but to hear it so plainly just…
Without another word, he bent down, pressing his lips to her own. And though he wanted to kiss her and kiss her all day, well into the night, adore her and show her just how important she was, he also held back just a little bit. Because she truly was so important and she deserved to be treated as the best woman, as the best person, in the entire world. How could someone like Ibuki ever have gotten so lucky? Not only to find this woman and to befriend her, but also to love her and marry her and start a family…
He wrapped his hands around her back, the dampness of his hands soaking into the fabric of her kimono, but neither of them noticed. Neither of them cared. He continued to kiss her with feeling, but carefully, trying to figure out just how she tasted or what colors created her.
He had never been able to pin her down completely. Was she sunlight? Spring? Autumn? Warmth? Warmth, yes. Lighter colors and pastels, and yet also rich earth, grounding him when he needed it most.
She was perfect. In the end that was all Ibuki was ever able to really decide.
Perfect…and the mother of his child.
He pulled away, gulping in air. Their child. She was a new mother, but he was a new father, too. This thing was a shared responsibility, right? Shared.
…Did his father ever realize this?
“Ryuunosuke?”
Brought back, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts as well as he could. But one kept sticking. “It’s just that…” A hand raised to the back of his neck, rubbing it. “What if…what if I end up like him?” Once uttered, those words, simple and quick, seemed to usher away the weight on his shoulders. It was the power of honesty, he guessed. Everyone always said it was the best policy, after all. Ibuki breathed out a laugh. “It’s stupid, I know. I’m not my father, but…I don’t know what a father’s supposed to be like.”
He paused, pulling away enough so he could brush his hands over the flatness of her stomach. It was still so strange to imagine that there was a child in there right now. Soon enough he’d see more proof, but for now…
“I don’t wanna screw this up, not like he did.”
His thumbs rubbed over her obi, following along the pattern in the fabric, wondering if the baby inside – though so tiny, so invisible, so colorless and so everything – could feel it. Probably not. Those were just his romantic thoughts running away from him. But when she rested her hands over his own, he met her gaze. And saw her smile return. The one that promised love and acceptance and protection. “You won’t. You’ll do what’s right.” She raised a hand and pressed it to his chest. He could feel his heart beating faster against the slight pressure. “Your heart is good. It’s always been good. That’s enough.”
“Shizu…”
But she looked up at the now-darkened sky and tugged at his hands. “Our dinner is going to be ruined if we don’t light the fire again.”
“Now look, I’ve already screwed things up!” If she hadn’t made dinner and then come looking for him…
But her hands kept tugging and he followed obediently after her. “Hush, it’s an easy enough fix. You’re more important anyway.” Inside the house, she beamed at him. And Ibuki slid the door shut behind them.
He ran to the river, zig-zagging around people and ignoring their shouts of surprise and annoyance. He ran until all he could hear in his head was his own gasping breath and not the sound of Shizu’s voice echoing endlessly in his memories. He ran until he tried to stop and instead slid down a little ways down the embankment, his hands flying out behind him to slow his descent.
And then he flopped back against the earth, his chest rising and falling with his heaving breaths.
The sky that day had been beautiful – clear and impossibly blue, like if Ibuki had reached up into it, he would have brought down some perfect shade of paint, the color dripping from his fingers. He almost wanted to try it, to see if such a thing would even happen. Because if it did, then he would be able to know for sure that what she had told him earlier had been a dream.
But the sky wasn’t perfect anymore. As the sun set out on its daily journey to leave them all behind, it left streaks of fire in its wake, flames of other colors; pinks and reds and oranges and, just like on a flame itself, they were followed by a wholly different blue. Night would cover the town soon. He should go back to the house.
In the failing light, though, Ibuki brought his hands up to his face – would he try to collect the colors of the sunset and smear them over anything he could use as a canvas? – and he squinted, trying to make out everything he saw on his palms. The remnants of ink staining his fingers from a piece he had finished a couple days before. The fresh green of grass from where he had slid just now. Pink and raised stripes from where the ground had tried and failed to cut him open. Colors and shapes and almost-injuries. All these things made sense. All these things he could see and touch.
Ryuunosuke, we’re going to have a baby.
What Shizu had told him is a mystery. He can’t just reach inside her and pull out a color and understand. He would have to wait, now, and Ibuki has never been particularly patient. Waiting will leave plenty of time for him to think about things and worry and…
Did his father go through this, too?
The thought whispered through his head without warning and so suddenly and yet somehow so loudly that Ibuki sat straight up, his face falling into its familiar scowl. His father. A man he rarely thought of, if only because he had so few memories of him to begin with, but outside of what he could remember, Ibuki never had a positive opinion of him. How could he have called himself a man when he couldn’t even take care of his own family, when his own wife and his own son couldn’t do anything to take care of themselves, when he was their only protection?
“I thought I would find you here.” Her voice fell down to him and Ibuki immediately turned to look up at her. Shizu stood just off the path beside the river, small but confident, her hands clasped in front of her stomach. His gaze rested there for a few moments, as if trying to see through her hands and her kimono and her skin to see the life apparently now growing inside. But he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. Not yet.
When he looked up to see her face, he was met with only a small smile. “You said you were going out for a few minutes, but when you didn’t come back, I thought you had gotten lost in your work.” She gestured vaguely toward him. “But I see that’s not the case.” He couldn’t get lost in art if he didn’t have any supplies, after all. Ibuki pushed himself to his feet and climbed the short distance up to the path, waiting for what would come next. Shizu was quick, much smarter than he was. When he stood in front of her and glanced at her face, he noticed that her smile had disappeared. “This is about what I said, isn’t it.” So confident was she, that she didn’t even phrase it as a question. Ibuki couldn’t deny it, anyway. He had been caught and he would have to deal with the consequences. That was life. At least Ibuki was mature enough now to know when to quit, instead of shove some excuse between them in order to save face.
Dropping his gaze back to her hands, he reached out for one, tentatively. Being married for these past few years had taught him a few things, mostly to read into Shizu’s body language and tone of her voice, or else he’d get slapped again – though it had happened and it would more than likely happen again. But he had tried and he wondered if that was one reason Shizu let him take her hand without a fight. Good behavior yields rewards, right? “I’m not unhappy – “
“You still ran away.”
Any excuse he may have had died in his throat at her blunt honesty, at the fact that he did exactly that. He could tell her any number of things, all true things, but it wouldn’t change what he had done.
Suddenly he felt particularly stupid.
All he could do was look down, but then he saw their hands and he bit his lip, remembering what it was he was supposed to do in this situation, something he had learned all those years ago back in Kyoto.
“…I’m sorry.”
For a few moments, impossibly long and awful for Ibuki, they just stood there, letting the world pass them by. But then Shizu released his hand and for a split second Ibuki feared the worst. That she had had enough of him, that she had had enough of his stupidity. So when he felt her hands on his head, pulling him down to her level, he didn’t dare to breathe, to hope, not until she brushed aside his bangs to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. Dinner will get cold.”
His eyes snapped back up to rest on her, a hesitant relief clear in them. Surely it wouldn’t be that easy, to just apologize and let everything else fall into place on their own. Shizu wasn’t like that. She pointed out things that were wrong and she waited until Ibuki understood.
Even so, she took his hand again and led the way back to their house.
They walked in silence the entire way, but as long as Shizu held his hand, Ibuki felt safe and grounded, like things were going to be okay, even if in reality he had no idea what would happen next. Only when they made it back to the house and she took Ibuki to the well to wash his hands, scrubbing them between her own, did she speak up again. “I’m scared, you know.”
“What?”
Her focus on one of the inkstains on his fingers broke so she could look at him. And smile. “You can relate. Never had a baby before. Never even had a younger sibling to take care of. It’s scary because it’s new and something we’ve never dealt with.” The way she said it and then lifted his hand closer to his face as she studied the stain on his finger, as if it wasn’t all really scary, confused Ibuki. But it also amazed him. Shizu really was something else. “Did you just pour ink all over yourself or something? This is stubborn.”
“But you’re happy, right?” Somehow that was the more important part. He knew the answer. When she had told him the news, she had smiled, although a little hesitantly, but it was a smile nonetheless. Shizu looked up at him again and cocked her head to the side.
“Of course I am. There’s no one else I’d want to have a baby with.”
Staring wide-eyed at her, Ibuki couldn’t speak. It wasn’t as if he never thought she didn’t have faith in him – she had more than most people – but to hear it so plainly just…
Without another word, he bent down, pressing his lips to her own. And though he wanted to kiss her and kiss her all day, well into the night, adore her and show her just how important she was, he also held back just a little bit. Because she truly was so important and she deserved to be treated as the best woman, as the best person, in the entire world. How could someone like Ibuki ever have gotten so lucky? Not only to find this woman and to befriend her, but also to love her and marry her and start a family…
He wrapped his hands around her back, the dampness of his hands soaking into the fabric of her kimono, but neither of them noticed. Neither of them cared. He continued to kiss her with feeling, but carefully, trying to figure out just how she tasted or what colors created her.
He had never been able to pin her down completely. Was she sunlight? Spring? Autumn? Warmth? Warmth, yes. Lighter colors and pastels, and yet also rich earth, grounding him when he needed it most.
She was perfect. In the end that was all Ibuki was ever able to really decide.
Perfect…and the mother of his child.
He pulled away, gulping in air. Their child. She was a new mother, but he was a new father, too. This thing was a shared responsibility, right? Shared.
…Did his father ever realize this?
“Ryuunosuke?”
Brought back, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts as well as he could. But one kept sticking. “It’s just that…” A hand raised to the back of his neck, rubbing it. “What if…what if I end up like him?” Once uttered, those words, simple and quick, seemed to usher away the weight on his shoulders. It was the power of honesty, he guessed. Everyone always said it was the best policy, after all. Ibuki breathed out a laugh. “It’s stupid, I know. I’m not my father, but…I don’t know what a father’s supposed to be like.”
He paused, pulling away enough so he could brush his hands over the flatness of her stomach. It was still so strange to imagine that there was a child in there right now. Soon enough he’d see more proof, but for now…
“I don’t wanna screw this up, not like he did.”
His thumbs rubbed over her obi, following along the pattern in the fabric, wondering if the baby inside – though so tiny, so invisible, so colorless and so everything – could feel it. Probably not. Those were just his romantic thoughts running away from him. But when she rested her hands over his own, he met her gaze. And saw her smile return. The one that promised love and acceptance and protection. “You won’t. You’ll do what’s right.” She raised a hand and pressed it to his chest. He could feel his heart beating faster against the slight pressure. “Your heart is good. It’s always been good. That’s enough.”
“Shizu…”
But she looked up at the now-darkened sky and tugged at his hands. “Our dinner is going to be ruined if we don’t light the fire again.”
“Now look, I’ve already screwed things up!” If she hadn’t made dinner and then come looking for him…
But her hands kept tugging and he followed obediently after her. “Hush, it’s an easy enough fix. You’re more important anyway.” Inside the house, she beamed at him. And Ibuki slid the door shut behind them.