I really love Shion a lot and have way too many headcanons about her. Why can't we know the name of her husband? Is it that big of a secret? Honestly.

After her mother left, and her father had been interred behind the small house, Shion burned the books, using them for kindling in the winter. Some of them hurt to burn, but Shion was glad to see many of them reduced to mere ashes.

Of course, she kept the diary, and her book of fairytales, among a few other things that when she was big enough to gather her own firewood filled up only one shelf. The others remained bare and lonely. She tried to fill the empty spaces up with flowers and drawings, but none of it seemed to work, leaving a hole in her heart where the books once sat.

Years passed, and although she longed for more to read, Shion knew the dangers of the outside world. A fairytale was fine, and they were good, but she couldn't help but feel bored reading the same stories over and over again. She sewed her own clothes, and she cleaned, and tended to her garden, but time in the day was always left. So she read. Like always. The same tales, over and over.

Years passed, the seasons flying by without a care in the world. Shion realized that she was aging, albeit slowly. She sometimes wondered how many summers had passed since her mother left. She found herself waiting at the window, for what she wasn't sure. Shion wished on stars for family, just like they did in her fairy tales. She just kept wishing… wishing…

"Hello?" A voice carried on the wind. "Is there anybody home?" It rose from the trees and carried itself to her ears. Shion ducked underneath a table. "I saw the smoke rising from your chimney, and it's getting dark! Hello?" Somebody knocked on the door. "Please." Quieter this time, then some more knocking.

Shion mustered up the courage to speak "Go away."

"Can you at least tell me how to leave the forest?" There was exasperation in his voice.

"I don't know."

"How could you not know? I'm coming in."

"No don't!" But it was too late, he was already pushing the door open. Shion only pressed her face to the floorboards, trying her best to look small. "Don't come in!" His shadow stretched across the room. Shion shrunk back even more. "I'm warning you!"

The shadow threw its hands up. "I promise I won't hurt you!"

"But what if I hurt you?" Shion still refused to show her face.

"You don't have anything to hurt me with."

"There are a lot of things you don't know."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"That I'm a monster." There was a moment of silence. "And I don't want to be one."

"You don't have to be a monster. You can just be yourself." She could her him getting down on the ground. "Whoever you are."

"Shion."

"Then just be Shion."

The boy was able to sleep on the floor that night. By the time Shion woke up in the morning, he was gone, leaving only a mess of quilts and a note on the table, weighed down by a book of fairytales. It read:

Shion,

I am sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, but my family is expecting me. Don't ever be afraid, okay? I heard you having nightmares, but I was nervous about waking you up. I'm sorry. Do you like to read? Is it lonely here? Are there any supplies you need? Please make a list.

Shion placed it between two pages of the diary, out of sight but not out of mind. The rest of the day, the thoughts of the note consumed her. What did he mean? Of course she liked to read, and of course it was lonely, but books were company enough. She had plenty of food, but thread was running short, and it was such a pain to make more. Did it mean he was coming back to see her again? Shion fretted for a long time. The sun rose and set three times before she saw him again.

"Shion! Shion I have books!" She was sweeping the floors when she saw him running toward the cottage, bag around one shoulder, waving a book in the air with another. She didn't speak a word, but let him speak as much as he wanted as he came in the door, pulling his jacket off with the warmth of the fire. "You never told me what you liked to read, but I looked at some of your fairytales, and I thought you would like something similar." He laid them out upon the table. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I—I can't believe that you did this. How did you get these?" She held one gently in her hand.

"My father sells his vegetables in the market, and an old woman was having trouble paying for everything, so she offered to do a little trading. In return, she gave us ten books, and because my father cannot read, they became mine. I thought of you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Don't act so surprised, Shion," he laughed. "Did you make a list?"

"Oh, no, I didn't."

"That's okay. Do you mind if I stay for dinner?"

"I have to finish my chores first, but I guess it's alright."

"I can help with chores!" He took the broom from her hands and began to talk about goings on in the town, and how he wondered why Shion never went to town because he was sure that nothing bad would become of her and that he could protect her, and Shion began to wonder if all 16-year-old boys were like him. There was no point in explaining what would happen to her. It was bad enough that she looked different.

"Is soup fine? I'm running low on some of my other ingredients." His ears perked up at that.

"I can get you some! It's no problem at all!"

"Is soup fine?" She decided that she would ask as long as she had to.

"Of course. But really, I can bring you all sorts of things." He went on for another little while. Shion liked the even tone of his voice, and although she hadn't heard it in so long, it reminded her a little of her father's.

They ate dinner, and he asked all about Shion, and of course she answered truthfully. Before their parting, she asked him if he had told anybody about her. He replied with a firm 'of course not' and promised not to under any circumstances.

The next few days, Shion waited dreamily for her prince. She found herself looking out the window more than usual. She found herself tidying up, awaiting his arrival. Again, three days and three nights. He showed once more. This time, he brought with him food, paper, and ink. He was interested in hearing Shion's stories, and he urged her to draw and write whatever she pleased so long as he could look at it when she finished.

Over time, she found herself falling in love with the boy, his visits becoming more long and frequent, and his usual place on the floor eventually became Shion's bed. The two were inseparable, and all he had to do was tell his family he was moving away.

The two had a daughter, and named her Mary. Both of them did their best to ensure her happiness and safety. They taught her how to be smart and kind, and they filled her up with knowledge from the books that filled the shelves and the love that filled their hearts. Not one of them could be happier.

After his death, Mary wondered what was in the box that her mother burned, and why she stopped drawing, and why she never went outside anymore.

Because there was no reason to.

Moved from account fresh-hot-yaois