I love writing these two, they have such feels.
Disclaimer: Blah de not-owning blah (Nabari no Ou belongs to Yuhki Kamatani).
Where Sunlight Lies
The sun fell soft across that bent shoulders of the Kira-user, threading its fingers through the thatch of dark hair that dropped below the brim of his cap. He tilted his head down – only partially to avoid the brightness hitting his eyes with the equivalent force of someone taking a rounders bat to his retinas, as unused to the sun as they were.
Even so, Miharu still saw the twin canyons of his cheeks, caught in shadow by his earthward tilted face. He fought the urge to reach out and trace the mess of veins that seemed to strain against the too-tight skin of the teen. Skin that had faded to a pebbled grey, nearly translucent in the absence of the sun's radiance.
To a hypothetical passerby, he may have been mistaken for a leukaemia patient. The association of sickliness with his colourless skin and unseasonable choice of clothes, combined with his cautious movements that lent him such an air of frailty was nothing to be ashamed of. To the uninformed, it would seem the easiest explanation.
In practical terms, there was little difference in the conditions.
At a distance, even his desiccated hands could be mistaken for bruised and abused skin.
Considering that, Miharu nearly loosed a lowly bitter laugh; if only Yoite's prognosis was that good.
At least with Leukaemia, Yoite would have access to medicine, even a few more precious years – if he was lucky. But in Miharu's experience the shinobi of Nabari, particularly taciturn teenagers, were rarely graced with the friendship of Lady Luck.
With Leukaemia he'd have time, if only finite months, to live freely in every sense. Miharu couldn't think of one single thing that he wouldn't give to be the one to teach Yoite about laughing and fun, to watch him develop his own sense of humour and to help him step quietly along the path of love, in any form.
Miharu turned away, sinking his fingers into the soft shoots of new grass. He wondered if he had been cruel to bring his friend here. Would Yoite compare the vibrancy of the springtime to his own decaying self?
Not that Miharu would ever know. There wasn't anyone in this world, perhaps not even Yoite himself, who could fully figure the fragile teen.
All he'd wanted was to bring a little beauty to the boy.
Somehow, he knew that even if Yoite couldn't appreciate the beauty, the elder wouldn't hold any incidental cruelty against him.
Miharu understood that much at least.
IMPORTANT A/N: This is not intended to offend anyone, I'm only making a comparison between the theoretical survival rates of both Kira-use and cancer.
