It was slightly scaring him. He always knew he had a one track mind but even this… was getting far too much out of hand, even to him. And he was so helpless to stop the spiraling of this obsession into something far more sinister. He wanted everything. Everything and so much more. More than she should be willing to give.

But as always she would give wordlessly, even happily, always eager to give him what she felt was something insignificant, anything to even help him that little bit. It terrified him that one day he would ask for too much and she would give it all to him, and leave nothing of herself.

He wanted to monopolise her, snatch her away from the eyes of leering men, lock her away from the face of the outside world and just watch her face shift through her different emotions. Her transparency drew her to him. How he could read her like an open book, and her weak attempts to stop her emotions from showing through. He could watch her all day long, constantly drawing out different emotions from her just to watch her face change.

The sweet, small smile when she felt content, the blush on her face and adamant denying and she was embarrassed, a pout when she realized he was pulling her leg, the glint of fear that shone in her eyes even as she tried to hold her brave stance.

And how small she was, so small, so weak, so fragile. Beautiful just like the fleeting, ephemeral beauty of cherry blossoms, especially beautiful due to their short lifespans. He liked to envelop her tiny hands in his huge hands, and muse about how she could always be so warm even in the coldest of nights. Another habit he had was to gently cup her face, running his hands through her brown hair, teasing her by tugging a bit harder than needed at the knots, laughing as he felt with his other hand how her face would grow so hot. His favourite memory, definitely, would be that one time when he was doing exactly that, and she happened to be bold enough to nip at his finger playfully in revenge. And the ruby red face she had as she borrowed her face to his chest, where he could feel her pout as he laughed before pushing her down and peppering her with playful nips, teasing out her cute little sounds that he would make sure no one would hear as long as he was alive.

Did he mention his love for torturing her with teasing, fleeting touches in the most inappropriate of places?

Because he enjoyed it. Enjoyed it so much because of how much it annoyed her. Or pretended to be annoyed by it. During mealtimes, where he would pretend to stretch and brush against her innocently, or when he slipped into her futon to spend the night and when one of the guys disturbed his beauty sleep with her, proceeded to touch her in places he knew were the most sensitive. And he would leave when she was struggling to talk properly, strolling out of her room and smirking at whoever was outside while she would spend the whole morning too embarrassed to get out of her room.

And when she finally did, he would be rewarded with her angry face, eyebrows furrowed, doe eyes narrowed and lips turned down in a frown as she attempted to glare him down. At which he would bend down, and put his mouth so precariously near her ear and whisper words to her. And start licking and chewing on her earlobe playfully, sweeping her up as her legs turned to jelly.

It was all this moments like this that made him despair. He never used to be this afraid of dying until she wormed her way through him. And what a selfish bastard he was, making her devote all her time and youth on a dying man who would leave her alone soon. He would never grow old enough to tease her about her age, never see her be a mother to the children they could have, never… he had never revealed to her his desire to see her plump with his child, to see her hold their child and love him or her just as much as she loved him. But he thought that she probably knew. She tended to know things about him he didn't know about. It would be so selfish of him, to leave their child fatherless, without a complete family, to grow up like him, never knowing a father's careful guidance and pride in his child.

So when she started looking paler than usual, sleeping in later than usual and begun to throw up in the mornings, mixed feelings hit him. She had yet to tell him, but he was sure it was a matter of time. The joy of perhaps being a father, he begun excitedly picturing the child, would he or she look more like her or him? Would he or she get his green eyes? Or her sweet brown eyes. He hoped they would look more like him, especially if it turned out to be a girl. He could already imagine beating off the lecherous men who would even think of laying their hands on his daughter. He already had a hard enough time fending off the guys who thought they could think lewd thoughts about her. At least if she looked like him, she should be able to inherit that causal sadistic look. He had never proposed, believing he would never survive that long with her. He wondered if he should.

And the dark thoughts started to creep up on him: why drag her down with him, who would only leave her a young widow, tying her down with him would be a life sentence for her. He didn't need to know her so well to know that she would never remarry. Which selfish asshole wanted to lock their loved one down, dragging them down with him in his self-centeredness. Apparently him. He wanted so badly to tease her, calling her by his surname, teasing her about the way she would wobble around in the later stage of pregnancy, laugh at her white hair while his wrinkled hand caressed her aged skin. Everything he wanted robbed by this tragic comedy called fate.

And he was sure she wanted all he wished for as well, so who was he to chain her to him and stubbornly refuse to let go of her.

He was partly relieved, partly disappointed when it turned out to be a bout of food poisoning. At least it was his chance to take care of her, to tease her with his imitations of her naggings and playfully feed her food and medicine mouth to mouth. But the thoughts of what could have been haunted him. The pitter patter of small feet, her attempting to chase after that child who refused to listen, spoiling their children…

After catching him alone stewing in his depressing thoughts, all she did was hold his face, look into those sorrow filled eyes and curled up beside him, of course not forgetting to wrap a blanket around him first. And his walls broke down, only her, he knew, would ever see this side of him. Just one glance and she knew what was wrong, what he needed and how to make it better. He wondered if he must have been a virtuous monk his past life and gave a half hearted chuckle.

For now, he would put aside his morbid thoughts and just be with her.

It was the least he could do.


A/N: wow that was… I don't really know what I'm doing so I'll apologise… just wanted to vent it out. Okichizu is one of my favourite pairings~ hopefully I'll be able to write more for this fandom~ I ship everyone with chizuru tbh~ so drop me a pm or review if you would like to see any pairings with chizuru (except heisuke, sano, sannan and shinpachi cause idk how to write them unfortunately). Otherwise find me on tumblr ^^ .com

Btw I don't mind writing for utapri, kamigami and dialovers as well (het pairings with main heroine), so do drop me a pm if interested ^^