Cure Narrative 65: Sempre Pianissimo
Season: Heartcatch Precure
Characters: Yuri T. Cologne
Summary: Always small but always there.
A/N on May 19th 2022: Happy (29th) birthday Yuri-san! Again I have not written any for her in a whole year and I'm ashamed
Ever since the first time she held her fairy in her hands, the little one has thought human hands are really big. Her slender fingers are easily longer than his arms, and whenever she'd stroke his head, there's a certain weight to it that feels… comforting.
To know that she was strong. Stronger than him, stronger than most. To know that she wouldn't need the support he couldn't give.
But Cologne was hardly the type to dwell on such things. They were never normal friends to begin with.
The evening wind rustled the book pages in Yuri's hands, sunset painting her room in dim, early autumn colour. Her index finger pressed the page down as if on autopilot. Her eyes reflected nothing but the words, and yet, she seemed more focused than immersed.
The air itself seemed still around her, at rest in silence instead of resonating with the breezy serenade of autumn nights.
The fairy returned through her opened window, some flowers in tow. He knew better than to trample the silence she found peace in, but he has his own music to play.
Without a word, he ran his tiny hands through her long purple hair, floating up and down like smooth glissandos. He gathered strands of purple locks from the sides, joining them in a simple half-up half-down style, and pinning it with a blue China aster.
He peeked at her profile from the side of her head, and with a hint of a frown, the glissandos faded. He held the rest of the asters in his hands and sat down on her lap.
Because he is small, he can see her face from below even when she casts her eyes downward. He can see the creases on her brows, the lips tightly stitched together so no tiredness escapes, the beautiful blue eyes that showed perfectly nothing but the book pages. He can see all of these puzzle pieces and put them together like no one else could because she never let anyone see.
Quiet, uneventful paper rustles carried on as he closed his eyes and leant on her stomach. And soon as the song concluded with a thud of the book closing, he opened his eyes with hope.
Does she see him?
She felt around the back of her head and smiled at him. He observed the blue flowers in his hands reflected in her eyes were welcoming like the morning sky, one could immerse in them.
He read her countenance as she read his intentions. She rested her gentle hand on his head.
"What do you want for dinner tonight, Cologne?" She dropped the book on her bed and held him gingerly in her hands.
He tried not to sigh, "I'm fine with anything you choose, Moonlight."
Because he is small, he can go anywhere with her. And he will.
Yuri's footsteps construct a drawn-out rhythm around the Botanical Garden. The flowers heal, she is quite sure, the flowers always heal her.
She was just conversing with Kaoruko about him. And in spite of the old lady's encouragement and compassion, holding Yuri's pale hands every time, Yuri's fist was still clasped tight around her Precure Seed, painfully tight.
He is quite sure that nothing can heal her if she stays this way, if she doesn't give herself another chance.
He wants to speak to her. The prelude has dragged on long enough. He wants her to hear him, sense him, snap her attention to him and know that he is right there—
"Hmm…? A butterfly?" The creature enters Yuri's sight as it flew under her lowered eyes. The flutters of its wings are almost silent, but not yet, simply a voice from too far away.
It lands unswervingly on a handful of blue flowers, guiding Yuri's sight to it. Her dead eyes don't seem any less icy despite the flowers reflected in them.
「I trust you. But I'm still worried.」
The butterfly's wings hum against the blue China aster petals before it departs, vanishes, gone before you could grasp it. Leaving behind no ghost of those whispers, a weak melody drowned out by breathing, walking, remembering.
She traces her fingers along the back of her head, down her simple straight hair and lets go halfway. She thinks he was wrong.
She thinks she is not strong, not enough, not independent of him.
She thinks he is not small, not all-knowing, not with her.
The flowers do not heal, she turns away. The prelude shall continue, echoing in the big hole he created in her. Until she is ready. Until he is heard.
The End
A/N: A little callback to "Live Life Anew", my poem for Yuri-san's birthday last year. Blue China asters mean "I trust you but I'm still worried" in Japanese flower language.