ASCLEPIAS


2022; panravenc.


CHAPTER II

First Kiss


Chōsō doesn't particularly think guarding Tengen is boring. The time passes quickly with Yuki by his side, he's found: whether it's to converse, or to play a game, she's always prone to make things livelier.

It's nice, all in all.

If there's anything he can appreciate, it's her non-judgemental curiosity. It's not every day you find a half-curse wandering about, he knows. He doesn't care much for how people outside his brothers perceive him, but he can't deny not feeling alienated by her is part of why he doesn't mind guarding Tengen.

Which is how he's got himself into this situation.

"Do you prefer black or dark purple?"

He thinks about it for a bit. "Dark purple? I think it would look better."

Yuki's laughter is her delighted surprise, and Chōsō can't help a quirk of his lips. It suits her, the low baritone and the loudness of it. It's strange, how it puts him at ease, how it makes him want to join her.

Then again, she's a strange person.

He stares at her when she starts to paint his nails, her eyes barely wavering from his fingers, concentrating on not screwing it up. She bites her tongue, puts it out as if on display. She's meticulous, eyebrows furrowed, and Chōsō can't help the way he follows all of her little gestures with his gaze.

She's enchanting to watch. Enticing, in a strange, fascinating way.

He wants her.

It's been a few days since the thought's come around his head, and he can't get it out. He's not sure if he wants to, either. It's the first time he's ever felt this way. The first time he's ever wanted someone like this: with his hands twitching to reach out and touch, her skin and her lips and her hair, with his daydreams starring her, smiling and laying down and naked, sometimes, with a need to speak and know more about her, about her habits and her favourite movies and her favourite foods.

It's strange, and it makes him feel like a fawn with the way his legs tremble at the thought.

"Done!" She exclaims, a proud smile adorning her face. "Now, give me the other." She motions with her hands as excitement seeps through her voice.

(Eso would have loved nail polish. He would have loved the black and the dark purple and the pink, the orange and the green. Kechizu would as well, if only because Eso enjoyed it.)

(He misses them.)

Chōsō does give her his other hand. "Here," he says. And curiosity takes over: "Why do you like it so much?"

Yuki looks at him sideways, not straying from his nails. She hums, as if thinking of an answer that might satisfy him. "I find it relaxing," and she smiles at him, cheeky. "Disappointed?"

Truly, he's never going to understand this woman.

"Should I be?" He asks, rather puzzled.

Yuki, of course, just laughs at his question. She's frustrating like that, he's discovered in the past few days. Sometimes he wants to shake her and demand all the answers. Tengen chuckles in the background, and Chōsō turns to look at them, only for Yuki to grab his wrist and silently demand all his attention.

Chōsō can't help but give it.

"Don't move," she warns him. "You're going to mess up my work, you know?"

He nods, not wanting to waste the effort she's put into painting his nails. "Would you like for me to paint yours afterwards?"

She raises an eyebrow at him, an amused quirk to her mouth. "Do you even know how?"

And―well.

"No," he admits. "Are you willing to teach me?"

Yuki stops painting his ring finger and looks at him, a carefully blank look in her eyes. After a few seconds, she shrugs. "Sure."

In a comfortable silence, Chōsō can understand why Yuki said painting nails relaxes her. Her hands on his, calloused and yet moisturized, take care of his fingers with astounding gentleness, one he hasn't associated with her in all the days they've spent together.

He lets his thoughts wander as she finishes up the last layers of colour. Does she often paint her nails? Did someone teach it to her? Does she have fond memories of nail art, what is her favourite colour to paint her nails with?

Would Tengen like their nails painted, too?

"There," she says, after a while, a satisfied look on her face. "All done. Now you just gotta let them dry for a while. Try not to touch anything with them―unless you want all my hard work ruined," she teases him, her body completely relaxed, tension he hadn't noticed before gone.

Chōsō inspects his nails with newfound appreciation. They're plain, but they shine, and they're―pretty. Much like Yuki. He feels his blood rush towards his cheeks at the observation.

Sneaking a glance, the thought returns. Pretty. And beautiful. And bold. And nice, really, if you don't count in the teasing

"What colour will you want in yours?" He asks, shaking those thoughts out of his head, because he does want to learn how to paint nails, and maybe share it with Yūji if that's something he'd be interested in.

Yuki thinks about it for about four seconds. "Let's get matching ones. What do you think, will purple suit me as it suits you?"

"I think any colour would suit you." It's the truth. Chōsō truly can't think of a colour that won't suit her. Not that Chōsō knows much about which do and which don't.

She smirks, at that, with a mischievous glint in her eyes he's learnt to not trust. "Is that so?" She leans over him, invading his space, something she's been doing a lot for the past days―ever since the first spar they had, if Chōsō has to give it a specific date to the start of her new habit.

He can't look away from her.

Her eyes are a deep shade of magenta, and this is the first time he's taken notice of it. Same as their owner, he's strangely enticed by them.

She puts a hand on his cheek, and her thumb brushes the dark mark across his face that tries to hide how badly he's blushing.

"Tell me to stop if you don't want it," she murmurs, low-tone and seductive. Chōsō doesn't want her to stop, whatever it is that she's doing. Whatever it is that she's planning. His hand wraps around her waist, hesitant, because he's got no idea what is going on; except he likes her this close, and doesn't want her to go away, not just yet.

Their noses touch, and he still can't divert his eyes from hers.

It's a strange situation, with strange sensations running through his body, but―

Her lips touch his, firm at first and then soft. Chaste, a press of lips. His eyes close involuntarily, trying to draw out the moment. How strange.

She moves away, hovering above him. He stares at her, and his grip on her waist strengthens.

"Yuki," he whispers, even if he doesn't know what he wants to say to her at all. Her name without honorifics still sits strangely in his tongue, but she's insisted on it, and he doesn't particularly want to argue with her, not on this.

"Did you like it?" She asks, her voice volume still on the low.

Chōsō shivers, suddenly aware of her legs touching his thighs, of the hand she's curling around his neck, of every drop of blood that runs through her veins. He recalls her lips against his, firm, moving slowly. Strange, but not unwelcome.

Not at all.

With a squeeze on her waist, he uses his free hand to grip her shoulder and lead her down once more.

He thinks, that's enough of an answer, right?