Author's Note: I wrote this story for a friend's OC. I own nothing. No money.
He thought nothing of her sickness today. Spreading out a blanket, the water glittering in the near sunset, he smiled to himself as he prepared for their evening picnic. The weather was perfect. Sparrows cawed their assent to the couple's presence; even the light of the cloudless, red evening complimented the rose of her cheeks. As he looked at her, his heart seemed to escalate into his voice. "You look lovely, Ahiru," he said, feeling a near blush rise to his cheeks at the sound of her name. Long ago, that name had meant something entirely different to Yuki-something about his terrifying past and the only solace the little boy had managed to find. How serendipitous, he had thought, after meeting his Ahiru, this tiny princess.
As he looked at her, her eyes refracting the red haze of the evening, he held out a hand to guide her to their blanket. The white ruffles of her petticoat encircled her small frame, dwarfing her already miniscule size. She flicked a ray of brown from her gaze, the short tendrils of her hair sliding into place. "Thank you, Yuki-senpai," she said. Her voice came in short breaths. Yuki placed a palm upon her small fingers, bringing their clasped hands to his knee. The shinning rays of his silver hair fell across his eyes, a slight irritation in an otherwise perfect encounter.
"Enchantress," he said, and smiled. He brought her face in close, placing a kiss upon the sunless pallor of her cheeks. She was the savior of his family; this cunning little white witch had brought him everything he never hoped for. Because of her, he had the audacity to wish again.
"We must eat," she said, her fingers tracing lines on his unlined face. She moved to bring their basket closer, but Yuki tenderly grabed her wrists.
"I want to hear a story," he said, smiling sheepishly. He had manuevered his courage for this moment. This entire senario had plauged him for months. Now, he decided, was the time to appease his suspicions. "I want to hear a story about my Ahiru."
She smiled, color rising to her cheeks. "You know of me, Yuki-senpai." Even as she spoke, he could see the trouble in her eyes.
"The real story, Ahiru." He willed her to speak, placing a finger under her chin and bringing her gaze upward to match his. "This is a story I must hear. Please, Ahiru. I must hear the real story."
She was vexed; he could tell. Nothing in his heart felt more wrenched then to see her lips frown distastefully. But this was a moment of crossroads, and Ahiru must be the one to lead. This story, which he had seen dangle so often unspoke on the edge of her lips, must be had out. He knew, and she knew, now, by the glitering lake and in the glowing darkness of the meadow, the story must be told. She took a breath, and spoke.
"There was a pond, Yuki-sama," she began. "And a duck."
This duck is not an ordinary duck. The duck, who is a she, as the story goes, had a soul much stronger than the souls of other ducks. As they played and bathed together, her heart longed for something beyond the pond and the faithless treck they made each winter which brought her nothing but sorrow; for there, at this pond, was also a boy.
This boy was silvered haired and small and spoke in the way of telling secrets with his sad eyes. He came to the pond of the duck many times, spilling tears in the water and secrets into her ear. As the boy spoke, the duck longed more and more to help the boy, but ducks, as you well know, can do nothing to change the lives of humans. Knowing nothing else to do, the duck began to pray every night in the long grass, her lips trying to form human words, willing and begging for her wish to be granted. I must be human, she thought. I must be human to save this boy.
One night, not unlike any other night the duck spent in her pond, God came to her in a blinding light and told her that he would grant her wish. The duck was terribly happy, and wept in a way that ducks never had before, proving her soul to be as strong as any human's. So God, with his mighty sword of light, struck the little duck to kill her mortal body, bringing out the human soul inside. But this God is not the God that humans sing about, because he is not kind or loving. He does not make the little duck's soul human but turns it into an angel meant to guard the little boy.
This does not make the angel happy; she wanted so much to be with the boy, but he could never see her in this way. You see, the little angel loved the boy so much she could not bare to go unnoticed by him. This did not make the God happy. He punished her by hurting her, dreadfully, and pushing her out of heaven and out of grace. The angel, badly broken and with a lame wing, ascended back to earth; her golden halo turned silver and her thoughts were plauged with sorrow.
She walked the earth as a ghost, feeling gloomy as ghosts do and seeking nothing more than than to remain in anonymity. But ghosts are not unknown to every creature on earth, and soon she was discovered by an old woman, keen in the ways of enchantments and spells. The woman took pity on the ghost and began to teach her of her ways. Gradually, the ghost got stronger and learned how to solidify herself, if only the slightest bit, allowing her to do as her heart desired.
When she was strong enough, the ghost rescued the boy from his hurtful home and away from his terrible family, leaving with a relative happy and able to care for him. The relative said nothing of her visit but kept the boy close and healty.
Soon, the little ghost grew stronger and better at her magic, turning her into a little human. She still loved the boy and longed to see him, but knew she must keep her secret close to her heart until the boy was safe and ready to hear it. When she came to him, she knew that he quickly grew to love her too, which was the final element to make her strong enough to break the evil curse that bound him. She surrounded him and the family with her white magic and the blackness of their lives disappeared forever.
She was happy with the boy, and he with her, and they lived for many months together in their happiness-in love. But one day, on a lovely evening and in the watchful eye of the waining sun, the boy asked to know the story of the girl, the ghost, the angel, and the little duck. And the girl, who could deny her lover nothing, told him all she knew and all she was. The end.
There was silence after the story. Yuki said nothing.
Drawing her courage, Ahiru knew she was to begin the daunting task of explaination. She opened her mouth to speak, but Yuki silenced her with a wave of his hand.
He drew her into his chest; he words were marred by sobs.
"I love you, little duckling," he said.
"I love you, Yuki-sama."