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almondinflowerIn the Courtyard
Wordcount: 500 words
Summary: Slice-of-life vignette. Mitsuru rakes leaves; Shinobu watches. I-I am not sure I can sure I can admit to anything actually happening in this ficlet. Not even Mitsuru thinks so.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
uminohikari who requested Mitsuru and raking leaves in autumn. XD This is the first of your fic requests I have actually managed to write! (Still working at the others, though.) Not super-familiar with the characters so I hope this manages to scrape it as IC; but thanks so much for the request! I do love Mitsuru, and trying new fandoms. Drabble requests still open here if anybody still wants to offer a prompt.
“Is your family busy this weekend?” Shinobu's expression was measured, as he looked at Mitsuru. It might be related to the significance of the question; or it could simply be Shinobu's usual calculated inscrutability. Even two and a half years of living together hadn't enabled Mitsuru to tell the difference. “I don't usually see you doing chores on short vacations.”
The ground was peppered with cracked and dried-up leaves. A sharp wind had blown all morning, making them swirl up from gutters and between tree roots and and scatter across the courtyard like earth-colored confetti, but right now the air was still.
Tonight the trees at the temple's edge would begin to shed again, and within days the whole area would have returned to its former state of picturesque disarray. But for now, the compound would be clean. It wasn't like he'd had to do this in a while anyway.
Shinobu leaned against the trunk of a broad and moulting oak, arms folded across his chest casually. An unzipped backpack lay at his feet, the edge of a paperback novel sticking out; he intended to read, no doubt, the moment he decided that watching Mitsuru rake leaves was a waste of his time.
Mitsuru considered the possibility of asking him to help, and then gave it up as a lost cause. He replied instead:
“They're all out today, so I might as well be the one to do it. Mum's shopping for groceries; Dad's at a funeral. Shou's away at soccer for the entire weekend. My grandparents are in, though, if you'd like to say hello to them while I finish up.” Shinobu could be polite and proper that way; admittedly, only when he thought he had something to gain from it.
Shinobu appeared to think about that for a moment, and then said. “No.”
He lapsed into silence, then, watching, as Mitsuru coaxed the leaves into small, as-neat-as-possible heaps, and then crouched down to stuff them into large plastic bags. The courtyard began to look neater with the passing minutes. A breeze started up again, but it was too gentle to make the trees shed more than a leaf or two.
After a while Mitsuru glanced over at the oak tree. Shinobu was glancing at his watch, a prominent frown etched into his brow.
He couldn't help smiling, and as he did so, Shinobu looked up. Their eyes met; Shinobu shrugged, leaning down to pull out his novel, and began to read.
Predictable really. Shinobu had never had any real patience, not beyond what he thought was necessary for his goals.
And yet – he was waiting here, wasn't he? And the wonder of it all was that Mitsuru almost took it for granted that he would.
He reached down to grab a fistful of leaves: yellow-green, fragmented brown, brilliant red in his hands. He didn't quite know why, but they felt strangely real and soothing between his fingers; or maybe it had nothing to do with leaves at all, but was merely the sense of fleetingly, irrationally being overwhelmed by peace, even though nothing had happened, or been said, and no reassurances had been made.
Wordcount: 500 words
Summary: Slice-of-life vignette. Mitsuru rakes leaves; Shinobu watches. I-I am not sure I can sure I can admit to anything actually happening in this ficlet. Not even Mitsuru thinks so.
Notes: Written for
uminohikari who requested Mitsuru and raking leaves in autumn. XD This is the first of your fic requests I have actually managed to write! (Still working at the others, though.) Not super-familiar with the characters so I hope this manages to scrape it as IC; but thanks so much for the request! I do love Mitsuru, and trying new fandoms. Drabble requests still open here if anybody still wants to offer a prompt.“Is your family busy this weekend?” Shinobu's expression was measured, as he looked at Mitsuru. It might be related to the significance of the question; or it could simply be Shinobu's usual calculated inscrutability. Even two and a half years of living together hadn't enabled Mitsuru to tell the difference. “I don't usually see you doing chores on short vacations.”
The ground was peppered with cracked and dried-up leaves. A sharp wind had blown all morning, making them swirl up from gutters and between tree roots and and scatter across the courtyard like earth-colored confetti, but right now the air was still.
Tonight the trees at the temple's edge would begin to shed again, and within days the whole area would have returned to its former state of picturesque disarray. But for now, the compound would be clean. It wasn't like he'd had to do this in a while anyway.
Shinobu leaned against the trunk of a broad and moulting oak, arms folded across his chest casually. An unzipped backpack lay at his feet, the edge of a paperback novel sticking out; he intended to read, no doubt, the moment he decided that watching Mitsuru rake leaves was a waste of his time.
Mitsuru considered the possibility of asking him to help, and then gave it up as a lost cause. He replied instead:
“They're all out today, so I might as well be the one to do it. Mum's shopping for groceries; Dad's at a funeral. Shou's away at soccer for the entire weekend. My grandparents are in, though, if you'd like to say hello to them while I finish up.” Shinobu could be polite and proper that way; admittedly, only when he thought he had something to gain from it.
Shinobu appeared to think about that for a moment, and then said. “No.”
He lapsed into silence, then, watching, as Mitsuru coaxed the leaves into small, as-neat-as-possible heaps, and then crouched down to stuff them into large plastic bags. The courtyard began to look neater with the passing minutes. A breeze started up again, but it was too gentle to make the trees shed more than a leaf or two.
After a while Mitsuru glanced over at the oak tree. Shinobu was glancing at his watch, a prominent frown etched into his brow.
He couldn't help smiling, and as he did so, Shinobu looked up. Their eyes met; Shinobu shrugged, leaning down to pull out his novel, and began to read.
Predictable really. Shinobu had never had any real patience, not beyond what he thought was necessary for his goals.
And yet – he was waiting here, wasn't he? And the wonder of it all was that Mitsuru almost took it for granted that he would.
He reached down to grab a fistful of leaves: yellow-green, fragmented brown, brilliant red in his hands. He didn't quite know why, but they felt strangely real and soothing between his fingers; or maybe it had nothing to do with leaves at all, but was merely the sense of fleetingly, irrationally being overwhelmed by peace, even though nothing had happened, or been said, and no reassurances had been made.
