Arashi fic - Ungrateful Dwarf
Title: The Ungrateful Dwarf
Genre: Romance, Fantasy
Pairing: Ohmiya, Jun/Aiba
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened. I do not know or own Arashi.
A/N: Based on the fairy-tale Snow White and Rose Red, not to be confused with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Totally different story.
Beta'ed by Ms. Strawberry Jam eva_lee
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3.
The ground beside the old well was worn and barren, with little grass in sight and nothing but hard, cream-colored dirt suited for drawing in with sticks. It was easily smoothed over and very rarely clung to ones clothing, save for the times someone would spill whilst fetching water, making the dirt muddy and mucky. Luckily though, Sho hadn't been out to collect the water yet - and he probably wouldn't until just before sunset and it was time to eat supper.
“Make it rounder, maybe?” the bear asked as Kazu drew lumpy clouds above green pipes jutting out of the ground. Some had flowers and some were empty, leading to hidden worlds no doubt. Most of the shapes were simple lines, as best as Nino could make them, though he took the panda's advice from time to time and tried to make something more complex. “That one looks like it's smiling.”
Kazu considered it, a hand posed at his chin just under the tiny mole there, as he let the thin strip of birch in his other hand float above the ground. He sat between the panda's legs, his back comfortably settled against the great mass of fur, while the bear perched his chin atop Kazu's head, always careful to not apply too much weight, lest he hurt his friend. They could hear Masaki and Sho off in the distance, arguing about the number of tubers they should plant for potatoes, with Masaki insisting that more was better and to plant them as close as possible, because potatoes, like everything else, loved hugs.
The youngest boy felt the day was too nice to spend up to his elbows in a mound of dirt and ash, so he laid out his own happy medium, drawing in the dirt instead, far enough away that he could pretend he didn't hear when they called forth for his aid. The sun was high in the sky, beating down with a warming temperature, and while he would prefer to be indoors, he knew that the bear liked to be outside during the daytime. The bear had tried to help with the gardening, but panda's are more effective with bamboo stalks than they are actual gardening tools, so Sho had sent him away some hours before.
“Do you know, by chance,” the bear began, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Kazu drew a turtle in his imaginary landscape, “if there is any water nearby?”
Kazu nodded absentmindedly. “There's water in the well.”
“Ah... I meant like a lake or a pond - somewhere with fish,” the panda clarified as Kazu drew another turtle in the dirt, forming a line between two of the pipes. “I was thinking that I might like to go fishing sometime.”
It all sounded like too much expended energy to Kazu, but he hummed anyway, raking a line through the dirt with his stick. “There is a wide lake not too far away. It's a day's journey on foot... but I don't know how fast pandas are, so you might make it there sooner.”
The bear sighed. “We are not very fast at all.”
“You do not plan on leaving us, do you Panda-san?” Kazu asked, letting the stick fall to the ground as he turned where he sat and peered with wide, curious eyes up at the bear. His drawing was smeared beyond recognition, only the vaguest outline of a cloud left along the top, but Kazu did not notice as he let his attention shift fully to the panda. It was a strange feeling - one he'd never felt before, as no one had ever left him, his brothers always around to ensure that he was never completely alone (no matter how much he told them to let him be). This time he had a feeling that no amount of tricks and smiles would get him his way, so he sat and stared with an unreadable expression.
The panda seemed to know anyway. “Mm. I will most likely leave soon,” he said thoughtfully, running an oversized panda paw over the top of Kazu's head and raking his tiny clawed fingers through the boy's hair. “But I was thinking that this might be a nice place to return.”
Kazu said nothing more on the matter, allowing his attention to twist with his body as he faced the dirt once more, unusually quiet and tense as he drew nonsensical scribbles and lines where his imaginary world once was. It would be a lie to say he was not distraught, but he kept his sadness bottled tightly within where the panda could not see. They'd spent the whole of winter in each other's company, playing and laughing, sleeping and resting, so much that Kazu was unsure of how he would spend the days from then on without the furry creature. He was hesitant to think of a time before the panda first knocked on their door, because that would confirm that he had indeed existed without the bear at one point, and could probably learn to do so again.
“I want to find the water and catch a few fish. Shall I bring some back when summer is over and it is time to rest by the fire again?” the bear asked. If he was aware of the way Kazu's shoulders tensed and his brows knitted in a frown, the bear did not show it, opting instead to nuzzle his nose against the boy's hair. “Tuna would be nice. Do tuna swim in lakes?”
“I don't know,” Kazu answered honestly. “I've never eaten a fish before. I've only eaten things from my brother's garden and the wild berries that grow in the forest. Once in a while we trade firewood for chicken eggs in the village, and sometimes the baker's wife will gift us a loaf of bread, but meat is something we do not have often.”
The bear nodded in simple satisfaction. “Then I will bring my friend Kazu back a fish from the lake.”
Though the sudden loneliness did not dissipate within Kazu, he felt a faint glowing hope emerge at the panda's words, looking forward to both the promise of something new and the bear's return. Where there was a promise between them, he knew that the bear would keep his word, sure to come back the next winter and repeat the entire process over again. He looked up to the bear and smiled faintly, coming to terms with the fact that there was little he could do except wait.
“I've never had a best friend before,” Kazu said in a whisper, so quiet that the bear had to lean down to hear him. “I've only had brothers. But I should like to think no one will ever come as close as you, Panda-san.”
It was two mornings later that the bear awoke beside Kazu and a lingering fire, long before Masaki or Sho ventured forth from their tiny rooms, and long before the sun had thought to rise in the east. It was still cool, but he could feel the oncoming heat that springtime was sure to bring, and he licked his paws and ran them over the top of his head to smooth down the hair as his mother had done so many times during his childhood.
He'd dreamed the night before, about wide open spaces and hills of green, tall trees that he could never hope to reach, and short berry bushes that were thankfully low to the ground. There were groves of oranges and bamboo and just when he'd come to the next hill and the next, there was a lake, teeming with flying fish that begged to be caught and eaten. His stomach had growled, even in his sleep, and his dream self dove head first into the icy water, upsetting a family of frogs on their lilypad home and they all leapt down into the crystalline blue. And he played and played for hours on end, the water washing him clean and cooling the skin under his fur. When he came up for air, he saw that many months had passed and that he had a promise to keep. He had to, wanted to bring back a fish to his friend.
So that when he'd woken up beside Kazu and not on the soft green bank of the lake, he'd been startled for a moment, his sleepy eyes blinking until he remembered where he was and what he had been doing.
He crept to the door, the planks of wood that ran the length of the room creaking under his great weight, and paused to make sure he'd not roused Kazu in the process. Each time, the boy was still sleeping peacefully under a deep brown blanket with frayed edges. When the panda finally came to the door, he realized his mistake, trying to budge the door open with his heavy head, but it was impossible while the lock was still bolted. He'd forgotten that it was one of the boys who usually opened the door in the mornings for him, and he was at a loss as he sat by the exit, looking about sadly for some sort of answer.
“Panda-san, what are you doing?” a tired Kazu asked from across the small room. He wiped at his eyes with one hand as he propped himself up with the other, the warm blanket spilling all around his lap as he let out a loud yawn.
The panda pouted; he hadn't expected it to go this way at all. “Will you open the door for me?”
Kazu blinked, unsure if he'd heard right. “You're leaving now?”
“I think that now is the time.” The panda nodded and lifted one sad paw at the exit, raking the wood with his claws pitifully, as though it really couldn't be helped. “I can't open the door.”
Kazu scrambled out from under the blanket and rushed toward the panda, throwing his arms around the hulking beast and cuddling against its neck. It wasn't odd for the boy to be so loving, but he never quite did it with that amount of ferocity, usually chalking his bouts of energy and affection up to playtime. “Can't you stay a few more days, Panda-san?”
The panda hugged back tightly, but loose enough so that he would not snap the thin boy in two. “The sooner I go, the sooner I will come back to you. I promise to return at the end of summer.”
Kazu wouldn't accept the answer, winding himself in closer to the bear, until he was certain there was no way to separate the two of them. “Then let me come with you!” he said in a muffled voice, his lips pressed against the panda's neck. This was exactly the reason the panda hadn't wanted to wake the young man - not because of the scene, but because he had no real desire to see the other saddened. He wasn't one for farewells, never having to say goodbye to anyone except his mother, and that had been an ordeal in itself.
“You can't go with me,” the panda patted the boy's head and pushed him away, but not out of arms reach. “You must be with your brothers.”
Kazu knew he was right; even more than picturing a life without his friend the panda, he could not picture a life without his brothers - Masaki especially. They were a double, a childhood pair, and they did everything together, from walking side by side in perfect sync, to finishing each others sentences with secret smiles. They were so in unison, despite being different in many ways, that their grandfather used to say “Sure enough, though the wind brought him to us at a later date, Kazu was born at the same moment as Masa, if only in spirit.”
“You're right,” he conceded and stood away from the bear, reaching around his large form to unbolt the door with a heavy heart. He pushed the boundary open quickly and stood against the frame, leaving enough space for the panda to pass through. “There's no way I can leave my brother, but I will wait for you to come back, Panda-san.”
The bear walked past and stopped long enough to kiss Kazu's forehead as well as he could with a panda snout before exiting the small cottage fully, settling down onto all fours. He was always forced to squeeze himself thinner as he moved through the frame, and before he noticed, a piece of his fur snagged against a large splinter and was ripped out. Kazu held it in his hand, staring sadly down at what appeared to be panda fur, but as he examined it, it began to look more and more like human hair, soft and blonde and quite familiar.
“Good-bye, Panda-san,” Kazu said slowly when the bear was out of sight.
Genre: Romance, Fantasy
Pairing: Ohmiya, Jun/Aiba
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened. I do not know or own Arashi.
A/N: Based on the fairy-tale Snow White and Rose Red, not to be confused with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Totally different story.
Beta'ed by Ms. Strawberry Jam eva_lee
___________________________________________________________
3.
The ground beside the old well was worn and barren, with little grass in sight and nothing but hard, cream-colored dirt suited for drawing in with sticks. It was easily smoothed over and very rarely clung to ones clothing, save for the times someone would spill whilst fetching water, making the dirt muddy and mucky. Luckily though, Sho hadn't been out to collect the water yet - and he probably wouldn't until just before sunset and it was time to eat supper.
“Make it rounder, maybe?” the bear asked as Kazu drew lumpy clouds above green pipes jutting out of the ground. Some had flowers and some were empty, leading to hidden worlds no doubt. Most of the shapes were simple lines, as best as Nino could make them, though he took the panda's advice from time to time and tried to make something more complex. “That one looks like it's smiling.”
Kazu considered it, a hand posed at his chin just under the tiny mole there, as he let the thin strip of birch in his other hand float above the ground. He sat between the panda's legs, his back comfortably settled against the great mass of fur, while the bear perched his chin atop Kazu's head, always careful to not apply too much weight, lest he hurt his friend. They could hear Masaki and Sho off in the distance, arguing about the number of tubers they should plant for potatoes, with Masaki insisting that more was better and to plant them as close as possible, because potatoes, like everything else, loved hugs.
The youngest boy felt the day was too nice to spend up to his elbows in a mound of dirt and ash, so he laid out his own happy medium, drawing in the dirt instead, far enough away that he could pretend he didn't hear when they called forth for his aid. The sun was high in the sky, beating down with a warming temperature, and while he would prefer to be indoors, he knew that the bear liked to be outside during the daytime. The bear had tried to help with the gardening, but panda's are more effective with bamboo stalks than they are actual gardening tools, so Sho had sent him away some hours before.
“Do you know, by chance,” the bear began, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Kazu drew a turtle in his imaginary landscape, “if there is any water nearby?”
Kazu nodded absentmindedly. “There's water in the well.”
“Ah... I meant like a lake or a pond - somewhere with fish,” the panda clarified as Kazu drew another turtle in the dirt, forming a line between two of the pipes. “I was thinking that I might like to go fishing sometime.”
It all sounded like too much expended energy to Kazu, but he hummed anyway, raking a line through the dirt with his stick. “There is a wide lake not too far away. It's a day's journey on foot... but I don't know how fast pandas are, so you might make it there sooner.”
The bear sighed. “We are not very fast at all.”
“You do not plan on leaving us, do you Panda-san?” Kazu asked, letting the stick fall to the ground as he turned where he sat and peered with wide, curious eyes up at the bear. His drawing was smeared beyond recognition, only the vaguest outline of a cloud left along the top, but Kazu did not notice as he let his attention shift fully to the panda. It was a strange feeling - one he'd never felt before, as no one had ever left him, his brothers always around to ensure that he was never completely alone (no matter how much he told them to let him be). This time he had a feeling that no amount of tricks and smiles would get him his way, so he sat and stared with an unreadable expression.
The panda seemed to know anyway. “Mm. I will most likely leave soon,” he said thoughtfully, running an oversized panda paw over the top of Kazu's head and raking his tiny clawed fingers through the boy's hair. “But I was thinking that this might be a nice place to return.”
Kazu said nothing more on the matter, allowing his attention to twist with his body as he faced the dirt once more, unusually quiet and tense as he drew nonsensical scribbles and lines where his imaginary world once was. It would be a lie to say he was not distraught, but he kept his sadness bottled tightly within where the panda could not see. They'd spent the whole of winter in each other's company, playing and laughing, sleeping and resting, so much that Kazu was unsure of how he would spend the days from then on without the furry creature. He was hesitant to think of a time before the panda first knocked on their door, because that would confirm that he had indeed existed without the bear at one point, and could probably learn to do so again.
“I want to find the water and catch a few fish. Shall I bring some back when summer is over and it is time to rest by the fire again?” the bear asked. If he was aware of the way Kazu's shoulders tensed and his brows knitted in a frown, the bear did not show it, opting instead to nuzzle his nose against the boy's hair. “Tuna would be nice. Do tuna swim in lakes?”
“I don't know,” Kazu answered honestly. “I've never eaten a fish before. I've only eaten things from my brother's garden and the wild berries that grow in the forest. Once in a while we trade firewood for chicken eggs in the village, and sometimes the baker's wife will gift us a loaf of bread, but meat is something we do not have often.”
The bear nodded in simple satisfaction. “Then I will bring my friend Kazu back a fish from the lake.”
Though the sudden loneliness did not dissipate within Kazu, he felt a faint glowing hope emerge at the panda's words, looking forward to both the promise of something new and the bear's return. Where there was a promise between them, he knew that the bear would keep his word, sure to come back the next winter and repeat the entire process over again. He looked up to the bear and smiled faintly, coming to terms with the fact that there was little he could do except wait.
“I've never had a best friend before,” Kazu said in a whisper, so quiet that the bear had to lean down to hear him. “I've only had brothers. But I should like to think no one will ever come as close as you, Panda-san.”
It was two mornings later that the bear awoke beside Kazu and a lingering fire, long before Masaki or Sho ventured forth from their tiny rooms, and long before the sun had thought to rise in the east. It was still cool, but he could feel the oncoming heat that springtime was sure to bring, and he licked his paws and ran them over the top of his head to smooth down the hair as his mother had done so many times during his childhood.
He'd dreamed the night before, about wide open spaces and hills of green, tall trees that he could never hope to reach, and short berry bushes that were thankfully low to the ground. There were groves of oranges and bamboo and just when he'd come to the next hill and the next, there was a lake, teeming with flying fish that begged to be caught and eaten. His stomach had growled, even in his sleep, and his dream self dove head first into the icy water, upsetting a family of frogs on their lilypad home and they all leapt down into the crystalline blue. And he played and played for hours on end, the water washing him clean and cooling the skin under his fur. When he came up for air, he saw that many months had passed and that he had a promise to keep. He had to, wanted to bring back a fish to his friend.
So that when he'd woken up beside Kazu and not on the soft green bank of the lake, he'd been startled for a moment, his sleepy eyes blinking until he remembered where he was and what he had been doing.
He crept to the door, the planks of wood that ran the length of the room creaking under his great weight, and paused to make sure he'd not roused Kazu in the process. Each time, the boy was still sleeping peacefully under a deep brown blanket with frayed edges. When the panda finally came to the door, he realized his mistake, trying to budge the door open with his heavy head, but it was impossible while the lock was still bolted. He'd forgotten that it was one of the boys who usually opened the door in the mornings for him, and he was at a loss as he sat by the exit, looking about sadly for some sort of answer.
“Panda-san, what are you doing?” a tired Kazu asked from across the small room. He wiped at his eyes with one hand as he propped himself up with the other, the warm blanket spilling all around his lap as he let out a loud yawn.
The panda pouted; he hadn't expected it to go this way at all. “Will you open the door for me?”
Kazu blinked, unsure if he'd heard right. “You're leaving now?”
“I think that now is the time.” The panda nodded and lifted one sad paw at the exit, raking the wood with his claws pitifully, as though it really couldn't be helped. “I can't open the door.”
Kazu scrambled out from under the blanket and rushed toward the panda, throwing his arms around the hulking beast and cuddling against its neck. It wasn't odd for the boy to be so loving, but he never quite did it with that amount of ferocity, usually chalking his bouts of energy and affection up to playtime. “Can't you stay a few more days, Panda-san?”
The panda hugged back tightly, but loose enough so that he would not snap the thin boy in two. “The sooner I go, the sooner I will come back to you. I promise to return at the end of summer.”
Kazu wouldn't accept the answer, winding himself in closer to the bear, until he was certain there was no way to separate the two of them. “Then let me come with you!” he said in a muffled voice, his lips pressed against the panda's neck. This was exactly the reason the panda hadn't wanted to wake the young man - not because of the scene, but because he had no real desire to see the other saddened. He wasn't one for farewells, never having to say goodbye to anyone except his mother, and that had been an ordeal in itself.
“You can't go with me,” the panda patted the boy's head and pushed him away, but not out of arms reach. “You must be with your brothers.”
Kazu knew he was right; even more than picturing a life without his friend the panda, he could not picture a life without his brothers - Masaki especially. They were a double, a childhood pair, and they did everything together, from walking side by side in perfect sync, to finishing each others sentences with secret smiles. They were so in unison, despite being different in many ways, that their grandfather used to say “Sure enough, though the wind brought him to us at a later date, Kazu was born at the same moment as Masa, if only in spirit.”
“You're right,” he conceded and stood away from the bear, reaching around his large form to unbolt the door with a heavy heart. He pushed the boundary open quickly and stood against the frame, leaving enough space for the panda to pass through. “There's no way I can leave my brother, but I will wait for you to come back, Panda-san.”
The bear walked past and stopped long enough to kiss Kazu's forehead as well as he could with a panda snout before exiting the small cottage fully, settling down onto all fours. He was always forced to squeeze himself thinner as he moved through the frame, and before he noticed, a piece of his fur snagged against a large splinter and was ripped out. Kazu held it in his hand, staring sadly down at what appeared to be panda fur, but as he examined it, it began to look more and more like human hair, soft and blonde and quite familiar.
“Good-bye, Panda-san,” Kazu said slowly when the bear was out of sight.