ficlet: Aya's ears
Aya’s Ears
Ficlet for neko_no_mizu
A cracky crossover of Loveless and Weiss Kreuz because she couldn’t make up her mind which she preferred, and you know me, I’m game for anything.
Aya still had his ears.
It fascinated Yohji. Ken had had his until just after the Kase fiasco when he had gone out on his bike and come back with out them, leading Yohji to tease him about “really loving” his bike.
Yohji was also pretty certain that Omi’s ears came off at night and was actually a headband. He knew such things were available though he himself had been delighted at the loss of his ears, and was glad to see them go.
But Aya still had his ears.
He was also in no way embarrassed by the fact that he was twenty-one years old and still had his ears, and the cutest little tail that brought attention to what had to be the cutest tail in all of Tokyo.
Once he had snuck up behind where Aya was sat on the mission room sofa engrossed in a book and tweaked them, to see if like Omi’s they came away. They didn’t.
It meant one thing.
Aya still had his ears.
Although Aya was stunning, and he really was, though his personality was reason enough for him to still have his ears, lovely silky red ears the same colour as his hair.
Yohji was fascinated by Aya’s ears. They bristled when he lost his temper and were often a better indicator of his mood than his expressions. He could mask his emotions on his face but couldn’t stop his tail lashing or his ears flicking.
In fact Aya was the most like his code name of them all, a cold aloof cat who stretched himself out on the sofa in a long sinuous black line sipping his tea and reading his book secure in the knowledge that in past lives he had been worshipped as a god.
So it came as a surprise when one morning when Aya came down to the kitchen and his ears were gone. Yohji would have bet his life that Aya would have died an old man with his ears, and sometimes you saw them about Tokyo, old priests with grey ears and balding tails. He could have sword Aya would be one of them.
Neither Ken nor Omi noticed the difference, even when Aya reached out and adjusted Omi’s headband for school under the pretence of straightening his hair, and flicked out the paper.
“Do you know,” Yohji said later in his shift, “it’s common in some countries for a girl to save her ears and give them to the love of her life.” It was a simple enough opening for conversation. Omi was at school and Ken making deliveries.
“Really?” Aya said.
“Yes,” Yohji said, “they preserve them in a special oil and keep them, and then give them to the man they marry as a sort of wedding gift, that’s if they lost them beforehand.”
“Interesting.” Aya answered, but didn’t rise to the bait.
There was a small period of silence before Yohji cracked under the strain, “come on, Ayan, you got laid, you’ve got to give me details.”
Aya just raised his chin with a slight smirk and wandered to the back room, proving that he may have lost his ears and tail but Aya was still very much a cat.
do you know i used to play hamsterball to avoid writing, now I'm writing to avoid playing hamsterball.
Ficlet for neko_no_mizu
A cracky crossover of Loveless and Weiss Kreuz because she couldn’t make up her mind which she preferred, and you know me, I’m game for anything.
Aya still had his ears.
It fascinated Yohji. Ken had had his until just after the Kase fiasco when he had gone out on his bike and come back with out them, leading Yohji to tease him about “really loving” his bike.
Yohji was also pretty certain that Omi’s ears came off at night and was actually a headband. He knew such things were available though he himself had been delighted at the loss of his ears, and was glad to see them go.
But Aya still had his ears.
He was also in no way embarrassed by the fact that he was twenty-one years old and still had his ears, and the cutest little tail that brought attention to what had to be the cutest tail in all of Tokyo.
Once he had snuck up behind where Aya was sat on the mission room sofa engrossed in a book and tweaked them, to see if like Omi’s they came away. They didn’t.
It meant one thing.
Aya still had his ears.
Although Aya was stunning, and he really was, though his personality was reason enough for him to still have his ears, lovely silky red ears the same colour as his hair.
Yohji was fascinated by Aya’s ears. They bristled when he lost his temper and were often a better indicator of his mood than his expressions. He could mask his emotions on his face but couldn’t stop his tail lashing or his ears flicking.
In fact Aya was the most like his code name of them all, a cold aloof cat who stretched himself out on the sofa in a long sinuous black line sipping his tea and reading his book secure in the knowledge that in past lives he had been worshipped as a god.
So it came as a surprise when one morning when Aya came down to the kitchen and his ears were gone. Yohji would have bet his life that Aya would have died an old man with his ears, and sometimes you saw them about Tokyo, old priests with grey ears and balding tails. He could have sword Aya would be one of them.
Neither Ken nor Omi noticed the difference, even when Aya reached out and adjusted Omi’s headband for school under the pretence of straightening his hair, and flicked out the paper.
“Do you know,” Yohji said later in his shift, “it’s common in some countries for a girl to save her ears and give them to the love of her life.” It was a simple enough opening for conversation. Omi was at school and Ken making deliveries.
“Really?” Aya said.
“Yes,” Yohji said, “they preserve them in a special oil and keep them, and then give them to the man they marry as a sort of wedding gift, that’s if they lost them beforehand.”
“Interesting.” Aya answered, but didn’t rise to the bait.
There was a small period of silence before Yohji cracked under the strain, “come on, Ayan, you got laid, you’ve got to give me details.”
Aya just raised his chin with a slight smirk and wandered to the back room, proving that he may have lost his ears and tail but Aya was still very much a cat.
do you know i used to play hamsterball to avoid writing, now I'm writing to avoid playing hamsterball.