Belle âme || Bungou Stray Dogs × Child!Reader

IX.

Of the several people she had met in the picturesque Yokohama, never had she seen a lady so capable of an alluring amalgamation of grace and inexplicable temperament. Yet, as Kouyou glanced down at the child beside her during the car ride, (y/n) sought tenderness in her eyes a profound contrast on her lithe and prideful countenance.

Not many words were exchanged during that occasion, only a few when the executive had asked if she were comfortable with the nylon car seats, or if she preferred to sit on her lap instead, as the seatbelt proved to be rather large against her midriff. Later in the ride, Kouyou found the child's curious eyes on the view outside of the window, and so she ended up situated on the lap of the woman in spite of (y/n)'s immense reluctance.

But as she currently sat on her knees with her rear rested on her shins, nearly motionless while Kouyou worked on her hair with absolute elegance and intricacy, she worried not due to the intimacy the lady had instated between the two of them, but because of the promise Mori had yet to satisfy though failed to do so for Kouyou's attainment of her.

Quite suddenly, (y/n) felt the gentle stroke of Kouyou's hand against her round cheek, breaking her gaze away from the falling of cherry blossoms outside the veranda of the Japanese house they were in.

"I'm sorry for calling you dangerous, love. I didn't mean to." She said apologetically.

The little girl allowed silence to ensue after the woman's last syllables. Then, she looked down.

"...it's alright." She insisted. "But why did you?"

Kouyou reveled in the breathtaking placidity displayed on her lovable mien. "I had to take you away from him."

"How come?"

"Because he's a bad man."

Soon, the child's face contorted into that of disarray and startlement. Swiftly, she turned to her entirely, objecting with apparent apprehension. "He's not. He promised he'd take me to the river. His eyes are pretty, too."

The addition of a physical description as evidence that Mori was indeed not a bad man would be a laughing subject had it not been for the stern and applaudably determined expression the child bore. Kouyou fancied herself the idea of having to agree with what she had said if it meant to retain the relief of a smile on her beloved countenance, but the girl had to understand the malignancy of the boss' intentions.

"You have to understand that you cannot assume he is good just because of the color of his eyes, nor should you say he's good because of a promise he has yet to fulfill."

Alas, the child never believed in the existence of malice. "He would have fulfilled it had you not taken me away from him."

"Can you be certain he's going to?" The executive argued. "Don't get deceived by what he says, (y/n). You have a bad habit of giving your trust away too easily."

There wouldn't be a fault in that matter, because, from the start, the receiver of trust wouldn't have reason to break what had been given. The mind of a child was a place so vulnerable; so naïve it was almost ridiculous, but perhaps, Kouyou thought, that was what made it all the more beautiful.

And it was a painful occurrence to watch it break because of the words of an adult. She found the wavering of the youth's expression akin to that of a diffuse reflection - (y/n) pursed her lips in upset, mild frustration taking form of the narrowing of her eyes as tears brimmed just below the glass of her lovely (e/c)-dripped pupils.

"Oh, darling." Bringing her into an embrace, Kouyou hoisted her up by the armpits and allowed the child's arms to enfold around her neck. She cradled her gently. "Don't get frustrated over my words."

The child whimpered in hurtful sorrow, hugging the older woman tighter as a comfort mechanism. "Please don't call him a bad man," she pleaded, "no one deserves to be called bad."

Kouyou felt the inextricable contract of her heart upon the melancholy of her words. The little girl knew very little, if not nothing at all, of the world detrimental to her altruistic notions - not that she deserved to live in this world, but rather the world was not so deserving to have a child exposed to its uncharitable conducts; she was a flower bemired neither by the darkness' sin nor the light's hypocrisy.

"Now, now." Kouyou murmured softly. "Quit your crying. Do you want me to accompany you to the river you had said earlier?"

(Y/n) snuffled, "Will the man come along?"

"No, dear. He's busy."

She pulled away. "He made the promise without acknowledging his schedule?"

"He tried to spend time with you, and that in itself is already fulfilling." Kouyou smiled. "So it's best to leave him be. Let me be the one to complete his promise instead."

"...alright," replied the child, smiling sparingly, neglecting her prior sadness in slow, steady steps, "he can always go with me some other time."

The executive perceived in her the rarest form of benevolence she seemed to have basked in the moment she had taken fondness of her person. She picked up a cherry blossom that had fallen to the wooden flooring, tucking it along with the loose strands of (h/c) hair behind the child's right ear.

Eventually, she noticed the meek grin (y/n) maintained.

"What are you thinking of?" She questioned.

The little girl said, "I just feel like today is a particularly great day to play chess."