(FIC: Yuki): Funeral Photos
Title: Funeral Photos
Fandom: Ookami Kodomo no Ame to Yuki
Pairings/Characters: Yuki, mentions of Souhei/Yuki.
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, IT'S TOO EARLY, MY BRAIN DOESN'T WORK THE WAY IT'S SUPPOSED TO, I HOPE THIS MADE IT.
A/N: Day 10 entry for Celeng 10 Hari Kreatif Bersama Tante-Tante Fujo. The prompt is pictures of yourself.
Fic word count: 869.
Funeral Photos
An Ookami Kodomo no Ame to Yuki Fanfiction
There are tons of pictures hidden in various places in Yuki’s room.
Under her pillow were the ones of her family when she was just a little kid-mostly her mother, little Ame, and herself-smiling and laughing the way their mother had taught them to, no matter what kind of thing they’re facing in life. It’s the smile she wore when Souhei and her hooked up, the same smile she had on her face on her graduation day, the same smile she had when she got her hands on the scholarship for the exchange program abroad. It’s the same smile she wears whenever she has to face a failure, the same one she wore when the upperclassman she had a crush on dated Shino-chan instead of her, the same one she wore when she failed in a competition, and the same one both she and her mother wore back when her mother told her about Ame’s choice.
She’d learned her best to smile sincerely like her mother no matter what hardships she’s facing in life. The late old man Nirasaki would be so annoyed, if he were still alive.
Then there are pictures tapped haphazardly along the wall where her bed runs; the ones she could run her fingers against when she flops down on the bed with nothing to do or when she couldn’t sleep at night. These are pictures of people she’d meet in the course of her young life-really, in the context of being a wolf, she thinks she’s supposed to be pretty old when she’s in her late teens, but she’s chosen to be a human and therefore she’s still young. Some faces in the pictures were familiar: her new and old classmates, the neighbors in her apartment, friends from back when she lived in the dorm, her teachers, the people from her part-time job as a florist. Some others were faces she only met once, captured in polite smiles or random shots; like the couple she’d met on the train when she went back to the village, a kid who bumped into her on the park and had grinned up at her brighter than the lit up Christmas tree did, some visitors with their arranged flowers at her part-time job.
She loves people. She loves being a human. The photos strewn across her wall are proof of that.
There are pictures inside her bedside drawer, too. These ones are organized into photo albums, neatly titled and given numbers, filled with familiar faces that she’s grown fond of over the years. Mostly, these pictures are of Shino-chan and Souhei, ranging from the time they were in elementary school to now, when the three of them go to the same university. She likes to open them and goes back to the first picture, making her way up to the latest, watching the changes on their features from year to year. They’ve grown pretty well, she thinks, grins at herself when she runs her fingers on the lines of Souhei’s young face and remembers clearly like it was yesterday: “Hey, do you have a dog or something at your house?”
She was insecure about everything back then, you see.
But the ones in a box under her bed was her secret all alone. It’s a small box containing her pictures; all close-up, with her smiling cheerfully, one photo for each year carefully stacked according to the timeline. It’s a habit she’s picked up when she graduated elementary school, and she’s kept it up until now, adding one similar photo in similar gesture every year into the box. She doesn’t tell anyone about it, it’s sort of a private decision that she makes after having to greet her Dad every morning in the form of a driver license instead of a proper picture an altar should’ve had.
When she moves in with Souhei, though, she brings the box out and shows it to him.
He gives him this little curious look, one that never changes as the time goes. “What are these for? Why separate them from the rest of the picture?”
“Because I’m going to add one picture here, every year,” Yuki tells him, give a pause, and adds, “The newest one of this batch would be my funeral photo. The one they put on the altar. Because I’d never know when I’d die, so I thought I should be prepared.”
Souhei falls silent, then shuffles closer. “Don’t talk about things like that,” he says quietly, pressing against her side.
She laughs. “Everyone dies, Souhei. It’s a fact of life.” She closes the box. “But I don’t want my family to have to cut a photo and just, I don’t know, take my face out of the picture. Or use my driver license.”
“You don’t have a driver license,” Souhei says, and Yuki elbows him on his side.
-----o0o-----
In the end, it was Ame together with Souhei who had to open the box and take Yuki’s most recent picture out-the photo cradled between Ame’s paws and given over to Souhei’s waiting palms.
But when they do it, there’s a smile on both men’s faces, remembering the life Yuki had led.
-----o0o-----
Fandom: Ookami Kodomo no Ame to Yuki
Pairings/Characters: Yuki, mentions of Souhei/Yuki.
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, IT'S TOO EARLY, MY BRAIN DOESN'T WORK THE WAY IT'S SUPPOSED TO, I HOPE THIS MADE IT.
A/N: Day 10 entry for Celeng 10 Hari Kreatif Bersama Tante-Tante Fujo. The prompt is pictures of yourself.
Fic word count: 869.
Funeral Photos
An Ookami Kodomo no Ame to Yuki Fanfiction
There are tons of pictures hidden in various places in Yuki’s room.
Under her pillow were the ones of her family when she was just a little kid-mostly her mother, little Ame, and herself-smiling and laughing the way their mother had taught them to, no matter what kind of thing they’re facing in life. It’s the smile she wore when Souhei and her hooked up, the same smile she had on her face on her graduation day, the same smile she had when she got her hands on the scholarship for the exchange program abroad. It’s the same smile she wears whenever she has to face a failure, the same one she wore when the upperclassman she had a crush on dated Shino-chan instead of her, the same one she wore when she failed in a competition, and the same one both she and her mother wore back when her mother told her about Ame’s choice.
She’d learned her best to smile sincerely like her mother no matter what hardships she’s facing in life. The late old man Nirasaki would be so annoyed, if he were still alive.
Then there are pictures tapped haphazardly along the wall where her bed runs; the ones she could run her fingers against when she flops down on the bed with nothing to do or when she couldn’t sleep at night. These are pictures of people she’d meet in the course of her young life-really, in the context of being a wolf, she thinks she’s supposed to be pretty old when she’s in her late teens, but she’s chosen to be a human and therefore she’s still young. Some faces in the pictures were familiar: her new and old classmates, the neighbors in her apartment, friends from back when she lived in the dorm, her teachers, the people from her part-time job as a florist. Some others were faces she only met once, captured in polite smiles or random shots; like the couple she’d met on the train when she went back to the village, a kid who bumped into her on the park and had grinned up at her brighter than the lit up Christmas tree did, some visitors with their arranged flowers at her part-time job.
She loves people. She loves being a human. The photos strewn across her wall are proof of that.
There are pictures inside her bedside drawer, too. These ones are organized into photo albums, neatly titled and given numbers, filled with familiar faces that she’s grown fond of over the years. Mostly, these pictures are of Shino-chan and Souhei, ranging from the time they were in elementary school to now, when the three of them go to the same university. She likes to open them and goes back to the first picture, making her way up to the latest, watching the changes on their features from year to year. They’ve grown pretty well, she thinks, grins at herself when she runs her fingers on the lines of Souhei’s young face and remembers clearly like it was yesterday: “Hey, do you have a dog or something at your house?”
She was insecure about everything back then, you see.
But the ones in a box under her bed was her secret all alone. It’s a small box containing her pictures; all close-up, with her smiling cheerfully, one photo for each year carefully stacked according to the timeline. It’s a habit she’s picked up when she graduated elementary school, and she’s kept it up until now, adding one similar photo in similar gesture every year into the box. She doesn’t tell anyone about it, it’s sort of a private decision that she makes after having to greet her Dad every morning in the form of a driver license instead of a proper picture an altar should’ve had.
When she moves in with Souhei, though, she brings the box out and shows it to him.
He gives him this little curious look, one that never changes as the time goes. “What are these for? Why separate them from the rest of the picture?”
“Because I’m going to add one picture here, every year,” Yuki tells him, give a pause, and adds, “The newest one of this batch would be my funeral photo. The one they put on the altar. Because I’d never know when I’d die, so I thought I should be prepared.”
Souhei falls silent, then shuffles closer. “Don’t talk about things like that,” he says quietly, pressing against her side.
She laughs. “Everyone dies, Souhei. It’s a fact of life.” She closes the box. “But I don’t want my family to have to cut a photo and just, I don’t know, take my face out of the picture. Or use my driver license.”
“You don’t have a driver license,” Souhei says, and Yuki elbows him on his side.
-----o0o-----
In the end, it was Ame together with Souhei who had to open the box and take Yuki’s most recent picture out-the photo cradled between Ame’s paws and given over to Souhei’s waiting palms.
But when they do it, there’s a smile on both men’s faces, remembering the life Yuki had led.
-----o0o-----