I love Shima Renzou :D
Saccharine
Life was like a box of chocolates.
Or so people liked to say anyway.
Renzou had been a fan of the phrase since he'd first heard of it, perhaps because he'd been born with a hell of a sweet tooth, and at some point, he'd picked up the habit of comparing his life experiences to certain flavors.
He started at first by categorizing his family and friends—the former which never remained consistent save for the fact that no matter the flavor change on the surface, the texture within was always nutty and hard to swallow. The latter were far simpler. Ryuuji, no matter how many years passed, had been firmly categorized as dark chocolate. He was a plain and dependable flavor, not as sweet as the rest, and yet appealing all the same. There were times where the taste felt too bitter to endure, but in all honesty, the majority of Renzou's favorite flavors had a dark chocolate base. He'd acquired a taste for it. (Most people held the misconception that milk chocolate was his favorite and for reasons he could not explain, he'd rather they think that anyway.) As for Konekomaru—he reminded Renzou of chai tea, comforting and warm, yet with a hint of spice beneath its surface.
When he'd made the impulsive decision to become a spy, the sight of his father's paralyzed expression had made Renzou think of champagne. A flavor akin to vindictiveness bubbled richly in his throat, and it had felt good. It had made him feel drunk with the taste of independence.
Meeting Homare for the first time had been more like biting into a French roast-filled dark chocolate. He'd felt more energized than he'd ever experienced in his life. He had to be vigilant of every movement he made, every word he said, and he'd thrived on the way that had made him feel bold and awake.
Settling into his daily life at True Cross Academy had been nice too. Knowing that his stay at the academy would no longer be a prison locking him into the fate he'd been born into had allowed him to savor each day carefully—he'd had many strawberry-filled mornings, waking up without a care in the world, flirting indulgently with the girls in the cafeteria, and just as many red-velvet filled afternoons, slacking off during class, and cajoling his friends to take it easy after school. The days that he managed to convince Ryuuji to do that were rare but fulfilling—like a hint of rose he could savor beneath the reliable dark chocolate surface. He often fell asleep with a lingering smile those evenings, harboring a craving for more, not just of the same, but for a flavor he hadn't yet tasted but longed for anyway.
Returning to Kyoto washed all that away though. The taste of rot and smoke in the air had been permeating and seemed to have gotten stuck to the back of his throat. It had taken him weeks swallow down the accompanying bitter feelings that had resurfaced inside of him as the weight of the Myou Dha and everything they represented to him attempted to crush him.
Even seeing Ryuuji make up with his father towards the end had left him feeling resentful—at least before, even if they'd never spoken about it, even of Ryuuji himself hadn't realized it, Renzou had felt a sense of kinship with him over their shared woes when it came to fathers. The change had put a distance between them, one of Renzou's own making. And if for a time, he chased after girls a little more ardently, it was only because he needed something sweeter to help him wash away the turbulent feelings festering in his chest.
The night that he'd betrayed everyone had been like biting, unexpectedly, into a mint-flavored chocolate. He wasn't sure he liked the taste. It had been different, refreshing, and unforgettable. Something inside him had awakened at last and he'd felt like he'd finally shed the foil he'd been wrapped in for so long. But there had been an aftertaste that had remained that he couldn't exactly call satisfying. Not exactly.
He tried not to linger on that as he settled into life in the Illuminati. The French-roast taste chased away the conflict in his mind and reminded him to stay in the present. There was too much at risk for him to start losing his footing so early in the game. So he put on his best face, and as he headed off to meet with Izumo, he anticipated the taste of amaretto—rich, sweet, just a little bitter, and wonderfully complex.
He'd always liked Izumo. She was someone else he'd built a silent kinship with, even if she hadn't known it either until now. They'd both made their beds when walking into the life that had led them to where they were standing now. He thought it would be nice to be able to bond with someone over those choices and his carefully pasted on smile, as he'd walked into her room, had been a little more genuine that he wanted to admit.
Though not for long.
Izumo's slap, when she'd scorned him for his lies and turned him away, had felt like a cherry splitting inside of his mouth and leaking out like blood.
Not so alike, huh? he thought then.
He'd nursed the flavor in spite of himself. He wondered if by doing so it, too, would become an acquired taste.
Hours after he'd finished making that decision, the chaos of his chosen life forced him to shelf his whimsical mood. He had former friends to fight against, a princess that he needed to get them to successfully rescue, and mind games to play that kept him busy and which were far more fun to dwell on than his own feelings.
He was surprised when he received orders that sent him back to True Cross again so soon after. Hesitant too. He knew trying to settle back into his previous life wouldn't be easy, and when he got there, he acknowledged it was impossible actually. Too much had changed, but amongst the fizzling distrust that he'd caused with his own hand, Renzou had been surprised once more, perhaps more surprised than he'd ever been before, when Ryuuji had stood in front of him, looked at him, and understood.
"I still don't trust you at all," he'd said gruffly, but he met Renzou's eyes as if everything was truly well and okay. "But good luck."
Those words had been like a mix of hot chocolate and passionfruit, a flavor that had exploded into Renzou's mouth and lingered hotly in his chest. Renzou had parted ways with him with a dizzying feeling, biting back a smile, and thinking fondly of the nights he'd fallen asleep dreaming of rose-flavored dark chocolate.
The passage of time was not one to be kind though. The Illuminati took him away from his friends once more, and though Renzou went willingly, feeling confident, driven and excited, by the time everything had settled down again, the realization that the world had kept on spinning in his absence left him feeling displaced.
His friends had all grown in so many ways while he'd been gone. Timid, innocent Shiemi had evolved from a plain vanilla cupcake to a more mature crème brulee, hardened by her experiences and all the richer for it. Izumo, too, had taken on a more spiced caramel apple flavor, more willing to let her sweeter side out, but only if you dared to bite into it.
Even his family had lost its rough interiors, mostly. When he'd returned back home, safe and sound, they wrapped him back in their arms with caramel-thickened embraces that had felt more than a little suffocating.
Konekomaru had laughed at him when he'd complained about it. That had been a surprise in itself too. He used to look at Renzou with envy and reproach when the subject of family came up between them, but these days, he looked much comfortable in his own skin and about his place in life. He'd aged into a green tea flavor sweetened with a hint of honey. And in all honestly, Renzou couldn't begrudge him for that.
But it was when he turned to his secret favorite source of comfort—the plain and dependable flavor of dark chocolate—that Renzou had to face the biggest change of all.
At some point, without him noticing, the hardened shell that had often kept Ryuuji in the straight and narrow had melted away, leaving a softer surface, a sweeter center. The bridges that he had mended, the bonds that he had made, the confidence that he had grown into by his own means instead of by enduring the weights that had been shoved onto his shoulders since was a kid—all of that had changed him, little by little.
And now, as Renzou took it all in and watched Ryuuji share an intimate smile with Rin, he could only think of one thing.
It was a little too saccharine to his taste.