嵐 | storm

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~仕始める~

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~仕始める~

"Happy new year〜!"

You sang out, an over decorated hat saw upon your head. You swung Yushiro's door open, breaking his concentration on his painting.

He stared at you in disbelief, "Wait, what year is it now?"

"Heisei period, year 2000 starts tomorrow! I wish we could watch the sunrise— it's almost been an entire century since we met Tanjiro."

The moon was already present in the night sky, the clear air filled Yushiro's lungs. Usually the two of you would spend the nights wandering around the house opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. After a while the house became stuffy and there wasn't much neither of you could do about it.

"You working on another Tamayo piece? What's this one called?" you stepped forward and lowered yourself.

Yushiro was sitting on the ground verses with a stool and an easel.

"Tamayo 106; Moonlight Bath."

You gasped, "You're already passed 100? Geez, that's some dedication. Maybe I should start painting more again..."

Your voice trailed off once he took his attention off of you and back to his canvas. Yushiro's eyebrows were furrowed— they usually were but never when he was painting. You clenched your jaw once he hesitated to start her face.

He can't remember what she looks like.

Paintings of Tamayo hung up around the house, each one a little different from the other but nonetheless beautiful. Each painting of her had her face, except the face shake would change in the slightest. The way her eyes sit on her face, the shape of her nose, her pale cheeks, all fading away from Yushiro's precious memory.

You've caught Yushiro crying over Tamayo more than once, usually staring at her unfinished face. Distorted by paint.

"Do you want to sit on the roof with me tonight? At least until the sun comes up?" you whispered, reluctant to touch him.

His hands shook, "No, I'll stay here."

The brush shook within his grasp, every memory faded, distorted with something else.

With you.

~休憇~

Typhoons we're bad this year, it had gotten so bad where you and Yushiro had to stand outside and hold down the shoji doors against the house to make sure they didn't fly away.

"Do we have a tarp?!" you yelled out to him, your hakama pants flipping against your ankles in response to the harsh winds.

Yushiro was only a few meters away, "What?! What's a tarp?!"

You couldn't hear what he said, you could only hear the booming of the wind and rain that hit your ears. Your feet were planted against the engawa's smooth wood, numb against the harsh cold.

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