A Munto Fanfiction: Crystalline © RedWingedAngel002
Disclaimer: Munto; Sora o Miageru Shōjo no Hitomi ni Utsuru Sekai © Kyoto Animation; Yoshiji Kigami and Tomoe Aratani
Genre: Angst, Fantasy, Hurt-Comfort, and Romance
Summary: "Sometimes when overrun with adrenaline, one forgets wounds at hand. It is common for soldiers in the battlefield." The salve smelled awful, but was cold to the touch and eased the itching burn. How careful, he was with her, and unrolled a twine of gauze. "In this case, determination." One-shot; MxY.
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A/N: Another episode seven bush interpretation, but more angst and less X-rated. *shifty eyes to One Heart*
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Songs: Sing Me to Sleep by: Alan Walker; Staying by: Koda; Long, Long Time Ago by: Javier Navarrete; Lover Dearest by: Marianas Trench; Please Be Naked by: The 1975
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Japanese Index:
Okaa-san, 'Kaa-chan: Mother, Mom, Momma (Towards mother)
Otou-san, 'Tou-chan: Father, Dad, Daddy (Towards father)
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"Talking."
'Thinking.'
Memories/Flashbacks.
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One-Shot: Of Salt and Ash
…Her mouth gasped cold within her lungs, as it washed into the warm pockets and left an uncertain chill. The Ferris wheel, which once stood proud and ever-turning, now remain a heap of debris; it bowed over and to the other world, where the center of Gntarl's ship clawed into the earth.
Resuming her trek, she moved against the ticking time and tried hard not to ponder upon the utter stillness within the steel carts.
"Munto!" the girl called once looking far down at the yawning drop below. She needed to get closer—if only there was a way—
Eyes of emerald locked on a lone wagon, which broke upon collision, dangling and angled—but to where she could possibly stand…! Yumemi's hands wrung, yet could not conclude to any other option.
Iron, so cold, it burned her toes, and a trembling groan as the wheel barely withstood her lightweight—steady, she kept her balance. Then, the wind picked up, teetering that fragile confidence, and she fell, with nothing to hold onto, where she awaited impact—
Yumemi jerked awake, in that strange, hypnotic drop when between teetering the dream veil and reality, and she breathed to calm her skipping pulse. Three-beats of quiet, groping senses caught a strong, earthy scent, like freshly cut grass, while pearl-adorned ears tracked a low hum of water in the distance.
She was not alone.
Heavy lids parted, adjusted to the low light peeking through the foliage canopy and to the man afoot her resting place. Donned in flashy leather and maroon strappings alike her last sighting, he stared at her, chin tipped and brows high with concern.
"All right?" he asked, and how brilliant his eyes stood in the twilight.
She nodded and weakly pushed herself up to focus upon her bandaged right foot. Nylon tights ran up under her cream skirt from abuse, but were cut at the toes and rolled over her ankles for better exposure. There, she noted red speckles dotting the towel underneath.
"What happened?" she asked in bewilderment.
Nimble hands paused at their work, placed the tweezers on the small trey—click, against metal—and he showed a small jar of shards and shook it like a prize.
"I should be asking you."
Her nose skewered, struggled placement of fragmented memories, and recollection came in waves, nausea and cold chested, and her elbows buckled back onto the duvet with puffed cheeks.
"That's right, Gntarl's attack." Silhouettes turned and she shut her vision to focus. Inhale, exhale. He resumed plucking. "How many were there caught…?"
"On which side?"
Her tongue stuck like mochi; it was difficult to swallow.
"I'm sorry," she attempted to blink away forming tears.
Another gentle pull, and his voice was even, "For what?"
"…Rui and Shuza. Everyone was fighting so hard." The pillow rasped from her shame. "I couldn't warn them in time."
"They are alive and well, Yumemi. All thanks to you." The king nodded in acknowledgment, quite focused on the task at hand, and guided her foot higher for more direction, but not to overstep modesty's boundary. "Last one. This may sting."
His thumb was at the inner arch, pulling the open skin, and steel hovered over a particularly deep sliver.
He kept his hands steady. "On three."
Chest heaved deep, bated, and calves tense: she prepared herself.
"One, two—"
Her toes curled at the yank, nerves zipping up her legs, and she released a mere squeak. There was a pat on the bandaged ankle after she was placed back onto the bed. Fortunately, the tweezers were aside and cup shut closed in finalization when inserted its last piece.
She sighed when a warm towel was applied. The massage was a bonus. Disinfectant purposes, surely.
Munto grabbed a cylinder, cracking it open with a twist, the gold bracelet capturing her attention momentarily, and swiped up an ointment on two fingers.
"Sometimes when overrun with adrenaline, one forgets wounds at hand. It is common for soldiers in the battlefield." The salve smelled awful, but was cold to the touch and eased the itching burn. How careful, he was with her, and unfurled a twine of gauze. "In this case, determination."
"Like that?" She eyed his left forearm, hidden beneath resurrected hide, and he twitched at her keen observation.
"I have recovered. 'Tis but a scratch."
There was a brief grin on his lips, skewered under the weight of her displeasure, and he dropped façade. With a sigh, he rolled up the sleeve in proof.
She lifted herself once more, that same determination pooling in the form of compassion, and scooted to reach for the lightning patch where he was caught in Guridori's battalion fray. He allowed her. *1
"We were losing this war, you know?" She could not help but think how intimate the situation was, when catching his stare—at the closeness. "However, we now have an advantage. One that the Union may not be able to resist."
She withdrew to overlap her fluttering heart. "You don't sound very happy..."
He huffed in frustration; flicking befallen red whips behind a pointed ear, and squeezed at the scar.
"I am not—because that advantage is you. Over this year, I put all my efforts in avoidance to not drag you into this mess, Yumemi. …Even if it was pushing you away." He shied away from her gaze. "I apologize for my callus behavior back there, I just could not shake it off."
She was heartened by his vulnerability. His prior words dug deep, but this was a motive to rebuild that charred bridge. It seeped into her pours and yearned protection.
"Shake what?"
"The fear of losing you."
Lashes fluttered quick in surprise.
"Even during that time, I knew the Akuto restoral was not complete and I would need to ask for your assistance once again. However, I put my kingdom and people at stake, calling them blind-sighted into war, all in regards of a sole vision."
How ironic.
The girl hesitated. "…Isn't that how it was last time?"
"I did not know you back then!" he snapped with a stroke of defense.
She could see he was at the end of his wits, tender and guilt-ridden with the pulling of his roots, and weighed by his burdens. Yumemi rested her temple on his shoulder — in some way to give him the confidence he needed, as he did so many times before.
"Whatever I need to do to protect everyone… I'll do my best. I trust you, Munto."
Their angle was odd, facing one another, yet unable to catch visage. Easily, she could fall into his lap, but brushed a nail on his belt instead, so close to the heat his skin radiated — in means of contact. He solidified that touch with petting her hair, and rose-cheeks burned tenfold.
"You have already done so much, Yumemi," he replied with a pitch she could only recognize as fond, "Hologuze's forces were 'mated with Guridori's downfall, while Shainan and Ond are at draw." *2
Lashes waned; reeling through his memories was an effort to fill in the gaps.
"What happened to Guridori?"
"He was driven with power-lust. Gas left the Heavens along with him in cause of this. Leica offered to take his apprentice under wing since she is with no other kin."
"Is he gone?"
"I… am uncertain." Munto's tone became null, as if rehearsed. "He was weakened exponentially due to the triggered curse, and along with Guridori's draining, I doubt he had long."
"How are you taking it?"
The sigh rattled her comfort.
"As much as I can. There have already been so many fallen, it is disheartening to take in the numbers. He certainly was not a close comrade, but not an enemy, either. He lived his role well as a neutral party."
A bird gave its last warble into the night, filling that gape silence.
"Damn. I had forgotten; Irita would know."
She lifted to watch at him briefly, a mere crescent over his jacket's padding.
"Our ability to defeat Gntarl's island ship was through Gas. He had given me a gift — tsk, perhaps gift is not quite — But with our power combined, you and I have the equivalence of an Outsider."
"Really?" Her mouth pursed. "Is that possible?"
"With you, it is."
She could not yet handle the thought of being so special. Still, the acceptance was shaky, and she picked at the sheets when resumed to his shoulder begrudgingly.
"Is that what the preparations are about?"
"No. Ryueri will be assisting you with those."
A picture of red waters and sliced, delicate flesh crept into her mind, and she willed it away with the grasp of her necklace jewel décor: ruby tears.
"I see."
She wanted to do this — save everyone — even if that sacrifice meant…
And then realization came.
"I think it stopped. Thank goodness."
"What has?"
"Somehow I've had this feeling of being watched time to time."
Munto's rhythm at her hair tapered. Pity. She could feel the gradual coil in his shoulders, and it spread onto her, uncertain, stagnant at his reaction.
"…For how long has this gone about?" The warning came dangerously low.
"I'm not sure." She swallowed. "At least after I met you."
An animalistic rumble emerged deep in his chest. It startled her, not in terms of fear, but of the sound's misplacement for one so (relatively) human.
"Munto?"
"Gntarl…" A venomous curse came under his curled lip, and he nudged her a bit closer into that scent of ginger, salt, and ash. "That will not be happening any longer, Yumemi. I will make sure of it."
With the speed of her pulse, she decided, yes, it may be best to part — because he might hear — and when she did, she already missed the warmth he held.
"I'm sorry to trouble you."
"Nonsense. Given the plight situation, you are still my guest." The redhead resumed to confine her wound and she watched spellbound on a propped chin to the knee. "Are you hungry?"
A smile was heavy to pull and she barely gave an effort, knowing he would not be fooled. Her worries filled to the brim, unto the point of nausea.
"Just tired?" was an offer towards her lack of voice. "Understandable. With the amount of energy you used, I would probably sleep for a week. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."
After the securing of her foot concluded, she was ushered under the feather covers.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
His look did not lie, intense, loyal, even with what the implication it could hold, and she tried to mask the creeping warmth peppered at her nose. A boy never stared at her like that.
"What will you do?" she asked.
"Well, first check on collateral damage on the perimeter. There was a number done on the city's outskirts and even penetrated within inner kingdom walls. The wounded need to be attended to."
This new information caused her eyes to burn behind their sockets: and yet she was still first? One so accustomed to the end of the line, picked last on given events, neglected by pink-umbrella shadows — bid attention by such a radiating sun…?
Munto attempted to knead a strain at his neck and ruffled the bright plume ends. "I am in desperate need of a shower. That, and a nap, if duties permit it."
"Only?"
"Three hours is a practical rest."
"That's not enough, Munto," she chided, and feels unworthy of her current arrangements. "You're exhausted. Even I can see that."
"Understatement of the year. War robs many things, and that is of the first." His wrist waves off any attempt of fretful remarks, which bite at her tongue. "I am a light sleeper, anyway."
The man turned away, collecting the sanitary supplies, clicking this way and that, and a whisper came at his bared back.
"Is it the nightmares?" She looked at him steady, when he stills. "I get them, too."
He said it, himself: she could not be shielded from the conflict. They had to head on, together, on equal footing, even if that meant emotional restraints.
His mouth is a thin line when in her sights. Guilt appears there.
"…Can you stay until I fall asleep?"
He was caught off guard. A humbled smile pursed after a fickle pair of emotions set way.
"Of course."
She could not help but be relieved, despite her childish request, and briefly wondered if he would leave the salve used earlier; now settled, her hipbone throbbed and was likely bruised from the cart fall.
"I had a dream on our way here." *3
Interest piqued, he straightened in full attention and rumbled with a sense of apprehension, "What kind of dream?"
Yumemi was not sure why it was even mentioned, but knew he would understand. Dreams were important to his culture, ominous, foretelling when with the ability. The vision comes like watercolor, just out of reach, and overfills the foliage.
"I was at home sitting at the dining room. It was a normal morning: 'Kaa-san was talking on the phone, while 'Tou-san was playing with Chikara. There was time to spare, for once," she laughed at herself and history of hurried mornings. "But it felt off, like I was expecting something."
"Flowers, petals." A vase at her table, simple, yet elegant, rippled at the surface. "It was important, I'm not sure why?"
"I was on my way to school with a passing snowfall. I caught one and looked up and…" her eyes glossed over, and remembered the clear winter skies and broken reflection. "You weren't there. I mean—this place. None of the islands were there."
She placed a hand at her chest, reminiscent of childhood desires, "Maybe years ago I wanted that, but when I saw it, I felt… Isolated. Like there was no one to relate to."
"I saw Ichiko and Suzume at the bottom of the hill; they must have not seen me, so I ran to call them over. On my way down, the earth cracked beneath me and broke everything. They were consumed, and all I could do is reach out in the dark. Then I woke up."
"I see…"
She opened fanned lids towards his way. "What does it mean?"
Bullion daze drifted back, a slight tweak at his jaw, and his chest fills.
"It could be many things; but it all depends on interpretation. However, there are key points you may focus on in terms of symbolism."
Nervous spiders settle gripped on the divot hem.
"Now, this is only my interpretation," he warned. "Starting from the beginning at home. Your family; they each had their own agenda?"
"Yeah."
"None of them were giving you attention. Were you expectant of them, possibly? Did that same isolated feeling form just at the hill?"
"I don't think so…"
No, that feeling started when she was five.
A huff streams out his nostrils. "Now, without my homeland in the sky; I know for many years you wanted a normal life. Do you still yearn that?"
Flaxen brows knit. "Yes and no?"
"How so?"
"I want to do things normal girls do at my age." The exhale was shaken with honesty. "But I don't want you to disappear from my life, either."
Touched, he gathered composure. "Stepping forward. Are you fearful of losing those two with change?"
"I had to leave them behind." A glimmer of Ichiko and Suzume's hopeful faces minimized in distance, and she has hers hidden with a sleeve. "I don't know if they'll forgive me because of this choice — but I couldn't run away; not again."
"…You have grown up." He smiles, genuinely, and she missed the prideful gesture. "Or I just have become more stubborn."
"Oh no!" A laugh bubbled to the surface.
There is a pinch at her shield, and he brings her to the light of his gaze.
"All will be forgiven. Your bonds are too precious to be cut so easily."
She despised how her throat lumped, but she gave her gratitude, as wobbly as it sounded, "Thank you."
"I will notify Ryueri of this vision and see her opinion of the matter. For now, stay off your feet until the morn; you must rest. Tomorrow will arrive soon enough."
His hand pets at her brow, something parental, comforting, and it was lulling; and the sound came, a bit rusty from lack thereof, but an unmistakable tune, which came in low laps of tenor.
…It was his mother's song.
It broke her, and mended all the same; and the girl cried because of the people lost, the swallowed months of confusion and hurt, of a war that was not hers — because her family and friends—would she see ever them again(?) — and because of the bond they shared, feelings of grief and protection, and yearning of tomorrow. She cried because he did not.
Yumemi slept soundless, without dreams, and he stayed a ten interval longer for personal securities. It was crystalline.
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*1: It took several viewings to notice this tidbit, but you have to squint at Munto's arm and eye wound: tmblr . co/ZE8fix28y1s00
*2: As in checkmate, not copulate. Heavenly Map: tmblr . co/ZE8fix1JSV5wB
*3: Yumemi's dream, which was cut from the series, has great foreshadowing: youtu . be/kqDdSxQwYtw?t=7m18s; or also can be analyzed here: my tumblr+ /post/54786190708