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Entry tags:
Lost At Sea
Title: Lost At Sea
Fandom: Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea
Character(s): Fukami, Meikai
Pairing(s): Meikai/Fukami
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1,025
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Summary: Post-Normal End 2. Wadanohara isn't here, so someone else keeps Fukami company.
Notes: Someone once asked if I pulled random characters' names out of a hat and decided to ship them. I said I should totally do that. This isn't actually a result of that.
Fukami does not intend to be killed, but neither can he say he particularly minds. There are worse ways to go than defending Memoca and Dolphi from a pod of orcas, though he imagines they’ll miss him deeply.
As consciousness fades away from him, his last waking thought is that now, perhaps he’ll see Wadanohara again.
Waking is more sudden than dying, a shift from one place to another. It looks much like the sea, containing nothing but someone with a blue long-brimmed hat over their face.
Even in his groggy state, Fukami can recognize that the hat is the wrong shade of blue to be Wadanohara’s. “Who…?”
“Don’t push yourself too much.” A man’s voice, and a stranger’s face visible when he lifts his hat. “Do you need help standing, Fukami?”
Perhaps it’s the soothing tone, or just the color of his eyes and hair, but Fukami finds himself making a guess as he pushes himself up. “...Meikai?”
Meikai smiles, and nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you personally.”
Fukami really is dead, not that he had doubted that he would die with those injuries. But if Meikai is here, then… “Wadanohara-”
A shake of the head silences him. “Is still in her Cast Pearl. If it breaks, then she’ll join us here.”
For a moment, Fukami wishes for it to break quickly. Then he recalls that that would unleash the sea of death again, and that it would make Wadanohara’s sacrifice for nothing, and feels a twinge of guilt.
Instead of pursuing those thoughts, he looks around. The sea is more empty than he’s ever seen it. There are people off in the distance, he thinks, but no landmarks or islands, coral or algae, or anything worth noting.
Meikai says, “Death is a very quiet place, without even a way to see the world of the living.”
“I don’t mind quiet,” Fukami says, eyes shut.
“No, I thought not. But do you mind if I keep you company?” asks Meikai.
“...No. That’s fine.”
Meikai is good company. He leaves Fukami alone to his thoughts much of the time, and seems to recognize when he’d like to speak without being told.
“Old was a lot like that,” he says, when Fukami questions him on it. “I learned to pick up on his moods. He’s still like that, actually.”
Fukami remembers Old. It’s natural he’d be here. “You still talk?”
“Now and then. He isn’t ready to be forgiven, but I think he’ll come around.” At Fukami’s somewhat questioning look, Meikai goes on: “I never held it against him. He was my familiar, so I understood him better than anyone else, and he wanted to be on the side he thought would survive. Practically anyone might do the same.”
“I wouldn’t.” The thought of betraying Wadanohara could make Fukami ill.
Meikai smiles. “I know.”
Magic still works when you’re dead, more or less. Meikai knows spells to make little things. Nothing so huge as a house or a bed, but Fukami doesn’t get tired anymore anyway. Instead, Meikai produces a comb, and brushes through Fukami’s long hair that somehow has managed to get tangles in it again.
Fukami expects the tugging to hurt, but Meikai murmurs another spell to help soothe him, and the process is relaxing instead. It’s embarrassing, but he melts into Meikai’s hands.
“You have such beautiful hair,” Meikai says. The knots and tangles are gone, but he’s still combing. “The last time I saw you alive, it was shorter, and I thought that was a shame.”
Fukami feels his face heat up a tiny bit and doesn’t answer that. Instead he says, “You have very practical magic.”
“Did you think all my spells were all on the level of the Cast Pearl?” Meikai asks. Fukami’s not looking, but he can hear the smile in Meikai’s voice. “Any witch or sorcerer starts with minor magic and works their way up. I’m no exception.”
“It’s hard to think of you as ever being a novice,” says Fukami.
Meikai chuckles. “I once bungled a spell to lift something off a high shelf so badly that I knocked the entire shelf on top of myself. Even with Tatsumiya’s healing, I was unconscious for a day after that.”
Fukami imagines that she was worried sick over him. Tatsumiya worries enough about people who aren’t Meikai.
He makes a soft sound as Meikai continues to brush his hair, and immediately regrets it. “...You can stop now.”
Fukami used to hug Wadanohara all the time. They were closer than most witches and familiars, and Fukami wanted to protect his witch as much as Wadanohara wanted to be protected, if not more.
Hugging Meikai somewhat different.
Meikai is only an inch shorter than Fukami. Instead of Wadanohara’s head being pressed against his chest, Meikai has his chin on Fukami’s shoulder. Fukami’s not sure where to put his tentacles, so he wraps two around Meikai’s back, near his waist. Meikai’s arms are around him, loosely.
Meikai seems to be happy with this arrangement. “You really do give good hugs,” he says, with a small chuckle.
“If that was all you wanted to know,” Fukami finds himself saying, “your daughter’s word should be enough.”
“No, no. Hearing about them isn’t anything like experiencing them.” Meikai pulls away enough to look Fukami in the eye. “I might ask you for this again. Do you mind?”
Fukami finds his answer quickly, to his own surprise. “No.”
Meikai rarely leaves Fukami’s sight, but sometimes he does, usually to visit Old. When he does, Fukami finds himself surprisingly morose.
He isn’t jealous: he has no reason to be. He has his own Witch, a wonderful, perfect girl. That Meikai continues to dote on his own familiar despite his betrayal means nothing to him.
Anyway, being jealous of two sharks would be pathetic…
Meikai returns while he’s still moping. “I’m back,” he announces brightly.
“...Welcome back.” There’s a sullen note to Fukami’s voice that he can’t hide.
Meikai looks confused for a moment, before lifting one of Fukami’s tentacles to his lips. It’s only a brief touch, but Fukami turns red.
“Feel better?” Meikai asks.
“...Yes.”
Fandom: Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea
Character(s): Fukami, Meikai
Pairing(s): Meikai/Fukami
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1,025
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Summary: Post-Normal End 2. Wadanohara isn't here, so someone else keeps Fukami company.
Notes: Someone once asked if I pulled random characters' names out of a hat and decided to ship them. I said I should totally do that. This isn't actually a result of that.
Fukami does not intend to be killed, but neither can he say he particularly minds. There are worse ways to go than defending Memoca and Dolphi from a pod of orcas, though he imagines they’ll miss him deeply.
As consciousness fades away from him, his last waking thought is that now, perhaps he’ll see Wadanohara again.
Waking is more sudden than dying, a shift from one place to another. It looks much like the sea, containing nothing but someone with a blue long-brimmed hat over their face.
Even in his groggy state, Fukami can recognize that the hat is the wrong shade of blue to be Wadanohara’s. “Who…?”
“Don’t push yourself too much.” A man’s voice, and a stranger’s face visible when he lifts his hat. “Do you need help standing, Fukami?”
Perhaps it’s the soothing tone, or just the color of his eyes and hair, but Fukami finds himself making a guess as he pushes himself up. “...Meikai?”
Meikai smiles, and nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you personally.”
Fukami really is dead, not that he had doubted that he would die with those injuries. But if Meikai is here, then… “Wadanohara-”
A shake of the head silences him. “Is still in her Cast Pearl. If it breaks, then she’ll join us here.”
For a moment, Fukami wishes for it to break quickly. Then he recalls that that would unleash the sea of death again, and that it would make Wadanohara’s sacrifice for nothing, and feels a twinge of guilt.
Instead of pursuing those thoughts, he looks around. The sea is more empty than he’s ever seen it. There are people off in the distance, he thinks, but no landmarks or islands, coral or algae, or anything worth noting.
Meikai says, “Death is a very quiet place, without even a way to see the world of the living.”
“I don’t mind quiet,” Fukami says, eyes shut.
“No, I thought not. But do you mind if I keep you company?” asks Meikai.
“...No. That’s fine.”
Meikai is good company. He leaves Fukami alone to his thoughts much of the time, and seems to recognize when he’d like to speak without being told.
“Old was a lot like that,” he says, when Fukami questions him on it. “I learned to pick up on his moods. He’s still like that, actually.”
Fukami remembers Old. It’s natural he’d be here. “You still talk?”
“Now and then. He isn’t ready to be forgiven, but I think he’ll come around.” At Fukami’s somewhat questioning look, Meikai goes on: “I never held it against him. He was my familiar, so I understood him better than anyone else, and he wanted to be on the side he thought would survive. Practically anyone might do the same.”
“I wouldn’t.” The thought of betraying Wadanohara could make Fukami ill.
Meikai smiles. “I know.”
Magic still works when you’re dead, more or less. Meikai knows spells to make little things. Nothing so huge as a house or a bed, but Fukami doesn’t get tired anymore anyway. Instead, Meikai produces a comb, and brushes through Fukami’s long hair that somehow has managed to get tangles in it again.
Fukami expects the tugging to hurt, but Meikai murmurs another spell to help soothe him, and the process is relaxing instead. It’s embarrassing, but he melts into Meikai’s hands.
“You have such beautiful hair,” Meikai says. The knots and tangles are gone, but he’s still combing. “The last time I saw you alive, it was shorter, and I thought that was a shame.”
Fukami feels his face heat up a tiny bit and doesn’t answer that. Instead he says, “You have very practical magic.”
“Did you think all my spells were all on the level of the Cast Pearl?” Meikai asks. Fukami’s not looking, but he can hear the smile in Meikai’s voice. “Any witch or sorcerer starts with minor magic and works their way up. I’m no exception.”
“It’s hard to think of you as ever being a novice,” says Fukami.
Meikai chuckles. “I once bungled a spell to lift something off a high shelf so badly that I knocked the entire shelf on top of myself. Even with Tatsumiya’s healing, I was unconscious for a day after that.”
Fukami imagines that she was worried sick over him. Tatsumiya worries enough about people who aren’t Meikai.
He makes a soft sound as Meikai continues to brush his hair, and immediately regrets it. “...You can stop now.”
Fukami used to hug Wadanohara all the time. They were closer than most witches and familiars, and Fukami wanted to protect his witch as much as Wadanohara wanted to be protected, if not more.
Hugging Meikai somewhat different.
Meikai is only an inch shorter than Fukami. Instead of Wadanohara’s head being pressed against his chest, Meikai has his chin on Fukami’s shoulder. Fukami’s not sure where to put his tentacles, so he wraps two around Meikai’s back, near his waist. Meikai’s arms are around him, loosely.
Meikai seems to be happy with this arrangement. “You really do give good hugs,” he says, with a small chuckle.
“If that was all you wanted to know,” Fukami finds himself saying, “your daughter’s word should be enough.”
“No, no. Hearing about them isn’t anything like experiencing them.” Meikai pulls away enough to look Fukami in the eye. “I might ask you for this again. Do you mind?”
Fukami finds his answer quickly, to his own surprise. “No.”
Meikai rarely leaves Fukami’s sight, but sometimes he does, usually to visit Old. When he does, Fukami finds himself surprisingly morose.
He isn’t jealous: he has no reason to be. He has his own Witch, a wonderful, perfect girl. That Meikai continues to dote on his own familiar despite his betrayal means nothing to him.
Anyway, being jealous of two sharks would be pathetic…
Meikai returns while he’s still moping. “I’m back,” he announces brightly.
“...Welcome back.” There’s a sullen note to Fukami’s voice that he can’t hide.
Meikai looks confused for a moment, before lifting one of Fukami’s tentacles to his lips. It’s only a brief touch, but Fukami turns red.
“Feel better?” Meikai asks.
“...Yes.”