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literary nonsense
Title: literary nonsense
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Kyouka, Atsushi, Tsubouchi
Pairing(s): pre-Kyouka/Atsushi
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 1,040
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Atsushi carries a weight over him that he won’t burden anyone else with. There isn’t much Kyouka can do besides continue to spend time with him and hope that someday Atsushi will be comfortable sharing his problems of his own volition.
Notes: Birthday gift for Fancy <3
Atsushi is a worrisome person, Kyouka thinks.
It’s not that he seems to enjoy battle more than Kyouka himself does. Many of the writers take a certain amount of pleasure in wiping out the creatures that threaten literature. Atsushi doesn’t take much care for his own safety, leading Kyouka to warn him when he’s opening himself to attack, but this isn’t the kind of worrisome Kyouka means.
It’s certainly not that he’s a bad person. Atsushi is kind and thoughtful, always polite and putting other people first. He praises Kyouka’s works and responds modestly when Kyouka praises his in return. Anyone would be lucky to be Atsushi’s friend.
It’s this: Atsushi carries a weight over him that he won’t burden anyone else with. Kyouka has offered to let Atsushi air out his troubles, but Atsushi simply shakes his head every time. He’s too kind and too thoughtful, refusing to share any of that weight even when his friends want to help him.
There isn’t much Kyouka can do besides continue to spend time with him and hope that someday Atsushi will be comfortable sharing his problems of his own volition.
Or perhaps he can gossip.
He and Tsubouchi met to share their rabbit and sheep trinkets, but after Tsubouchi showed a scarf decorated with sheep that Futabatei had bought him, the conversation wandered to Futabatei and his inability to get cats to like him.
“Atsushi has been trying to teach him to appeal to cats with no success,” Tsubouchi says with a sigh. “He’s a stubborn one, Atsushi.”
“I think ‘determined’ is a better description of him,” Kyouka says.
“Are they not the same trait? Stubbornness is only determination that fails to succeed.” After a moment, Tsubouchi adds, “Please don’t think I mean to insult him. I’m grateful for the help he’s given Shimei and myself.”
“That’s right, you’re in a delving team with him now, aren’t you?” Kyouka hasn’t fought alongside Atsushi for some time. Before he can think better of it, he asks, “Does he seem strange when he’s fighting?”
“Very strange. There are many good people who enjoy combat, particularly if no living being will be truly hurt, but Atsushi…” Tsubouchi thinks for a moment. “It’s as if a cruel heart awakens in him whenever he goes to fight.”
“Is that right…” Kyouka can’t imagine the Atsushi he knows as cruel. “Thank you. As always, your words are more clear than anyone’s.”
“If you flatter me that much I’ll be embarrassed…”
That afternoon, Kyouka invites Atsushi to the dining hall for tea. It’s not uncommon for them to chat about literature over tea, and Atsushi doesn’t comment no matter how many times Kyouka heats and reheats his drink. He’s the furthest thing from cruel.
Reminding himself of that, Kyouka says, “Nakajima, I wanted to talk to you about something in particular.”
Atsushi sets down his teacup. “What is it?” There’s nervous tension in his shoulders, and Kyouka can’t help but think he’s afraid. Of what Kyouka might be about to bring up? Of Kyouka himself?
Best to get it over with.
“I’ve spoken to others,” no need to bring Tsubouchi’s name into the conversation, “and they’ve agreed with me that when you’re fighting inside books, you don’t seem like quite yourself.”
Atsushi’s eyes go wide, and he stands up from his chair. “I, I have to go, thank you for inviting me-”
“Nakajima!”
When Atsushi tries to hurry past Kyouka, Kyouka grabs onto his arm.
Kyouka doesn’t touch people, even with his gloves on. There’s no telling what germs they carry or how thoroughly they clean themselves. He doesn’t even touch his beloved teacher if he can avoid it.
But with Atsushi, he just grabbed onto his bare skin without thinking. Even the thoughts of dirt and grime aren’t as important as the thought of Atsushi running away from him in fear.
“It’s alright,” Kyouka says, not letting go of Atsushi yet. “No matter what it is, I promise that you are and will remain my friend.”
Atsushi breathes in deeply. When he speaks again, it’s small. “…Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Kyouka lets go, and Atsushi returns to his chair of his own free will.
“…I don’t tell people about this. I’m afraid they won’t understand, and they’ll look at me differently. But if it’s you… I can trust you.” Atsushi stares into his cup and swallows, though he hasn’t taken a sip. “The ‘you’ you see while fighting, the fierce one… isn’t me. There’s another me inside my body.”
Split personalities, Kyouka thinks. He’s not well-informed about them, but he knows they exist. “I see.”
When Kyouka doesn’t continue, Atsushi looks up. His expression is too blank to be anything but a shield. “…Don’t you think that’s strange? Something I should be pitied for or treated like a freak? ‘Normal’ people don’t have multiple personalities.”
“’Normal’ people don’t need to heat their food three times or constantly wear gloves,” Kyouka says, in honest confusion. “But you’ve never treated me like I was strange, or like I was being ridiculous. Why would it be any different for you?”
After a second, Atsushi laughs. It’s the kind of laugh that’s near hysterical, and yet it can’t be anything but relieved. “I, I should have known that you would understand, and after everything I did to hide it-”
“Nakajima, it’s alright.” Kyouka smiles softly. “I don’t blame you for hiding, but I want you to know that you don’t have to.”
“Thank you.” Atsushi wipes at his face. “Really, I… thank you so much.”
The next time Atsushi and Kyouka are put in a delve together, Atsushi catches Kyouka in between battles and says, “Thank you for accepting him.”
Kyouka looks at this Atsushi, with sharp eyes and a sharper blade, who fights fiercely so that the other Atsushi is never made to, and silently thinks that fierceness is simply cruelty put to use to protect someone important.
“Thank you for taking care of him all this time,” he says. Atsushi turns away, but not quickly enough for Kyouka to miss the embarrassment in his expression.
Even if they’re different Atsushis, Kyouka can accept both of them. It’s not beyond him to have more than one friend.
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Kyouka, Atsushi, Tsubouchi
Pairing(s): pre-Kyouka/Atsushi
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 1,040
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Atsushi carries a weight over him that he won’t burden anyone else with. There isn’t much Kyouka can do besides continue to spend time with him and hope that someday Atsushi will be comfortable sharing his problems of his own volition.
Notes: Birthday gift for Fancy <3
Atsushi is a worrisome person, Kyouka thinks.
It’s not that he seems to enjoy battle more than Kyouka himself does. Many of the writers take a certain amount of pleasure in wiping out the creatures that threaten literature. Atsushi doesn’t take much care for his own safety, leading Kyouka to warn him when he’s opening himself to attack, but this isn’t the kind of worrisome Kyouka means.
It’s certainly not that he’s a bad person. Atsushi is kind and thoughtful, always polite and putting other people first. He praises Kyouka’s works and responds modestly when Kyouka praises his in return. Anyone would be lucky to be Atsushi’s friend.
It’s this: Atsushi carries a weight over him that he won’t burden anyone else with. Kyouka has offered to let Atsushi air out his troubles, but Atsushi simply shakes his head every time. He’s too kind and too thoughtful, refusing to share any of that weight even when his friends want to help him.
There isn’t much Kyouka can do besides continue to spend time with him and hope that someday Atsushi will be comfortable sharing his problems of his own volition.
Or perhaps he can gossip.
He and Tsubouchi met to share their rabbit and sheep trinkets, but after Tsubouchi showed a scarf decorated with sheep that Futabatei had bought him, the conversation wandered to Futabatei and his inability to get cats to like him.
“Atsushi has been trying to teach him to appeal to cats with no success,” Tsubouchi says with a sigh. “He’s a stubborn one, Atsushi.”
“I think ‘determined’ is a better description of him,” Kyouka says.
“Are they not the same trait? Stubbornness is only determination that fails to succeed.” After a moment, Tsubouchi adds, “Please don’t think I mean to insult him. I’m grateful for the help he’s given Shimei and myself.”
“That’s right, you’re in a delving team with him now, aren’t you?” Kyouka hasn’t fought alongside Atsushi for some time. Before he can think better of it, he asks, “Does he seem strange when he’s fighting?”
“Very strange. There are many good people who enjoy combat, particularly if no living being will be truly hurt, but Atsushi…” Tsubouchi thinks for a moment. “It’s as if a cruel heart awakens in him whenever he goes to fight.”
“Is that right…” Kyouka can’t imagine the Atsushi he knows as cruel. “Thank you. As always, your words are more clear than anyone’s.”
“If you flatter me that much I’ll be embarrassed…”
That afternoon, Kyouka invites Atsushi to the dining hall for tea. It’s not uncommon for them to chat about literature over tea, and Atsushi doesn’t comment no matter how many times Kyouka heats and reheats his drink. He’s the furthest thing from cruel.
Reminding himself of that, Kyouka says, “Nakajima, I wanted to talk to you about something in particular.”
Atsushi sets down his teacup. “What is it?” There’s nervous tension in his shoulders, and Kyouka can’t help but think he’s afraid. Of what Kyouka might be about to bring up? Of Kyouka himself?
Best to get it over with.
“I’ve spoken to others,” no need to bring Tsubouchi’s name into the conversation, “and they’ve agreed with me that when you’re fighting inside books, you don’t seem like quite yourself.”
Atsushi’s eyes go wide, and he stands up from his chair. “I, I have to go, thank you for inviting me-”
“Nakajima!”
When Atsushi tries to hurry past Kyouka, Kyouka grabs onto his arm.
Kyouka doesn’t touch people, even with his gloves on. There’s no telling what germs they carry or how thoroughly they clean themselves. He doesn’t even touch his beloved teacher if he can avoid it.
But with Atsushi, he just grabbed onto his bare skin without thinking. Even the thoughts of dirt and grime aren’t as important as the thought of Atsushi running away from him in fear.
“It’s alright,” Kyouka says, not letting go of Atsushi yet. “No matter what it is, I promise that you are and will remain my friend.”
Atsushi breathes in deeply. When he speaks again, it’s small. “…Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Kyouka lets go, and Atsushi returns to his chair of his own free will.
“…I don’t tell people about this. I’m afraid they won’t understand, and they’ll look at me differently. But if it’s you… I can trust you.” Atsushi stares into his cup and swallows, though he hasn’t taken a sip. “The ‘you’ you see while fighting, the fierce one… isn’t me. There’s another me inside my body.”
Split personalities, Kyouka thinks. He’s not well-informed about them, but he knows they exist. “I see.”
When Kyouka doesn’t continue, Atsushi looks up. His expression is too blank to be anything but a shield. “…Don’t you think that’s strange? Something I should be pitied for or treated like a freak? ‘Normal’ people don’t have multiple personalities.”
“’Normal’ people don’t need to heat their food three times or constantly wear gloves,” Kyouka says, in honest confusion. “But you’ve never treated me like I was strange, or like I was being ridiculous. Why would it be any different for you?”
After a second, Atsushi laughs. It’s the kind of laugh that’s near hysterical, and yet it can’t be anything but relieved. “I, I should have known that you would understand, and after everything I did to hide it-”
“Nakajima, it’s alright.” Kyouka smiles softly. “I don’t blame you for hiding, but I want you to know that you don’t have to.”
“Thank you.” Atsushi wipes at his face. “Really, I… thank you so much.”
The next time Atsushi and Kyouka are put in a delve together, Atsushi catches Kyouka in between battles and says, “Thank you for accepting him.”
Kyouka looks at this Atsushi, with sharp eyes and a sharper blade, who fights fiercely so that the other Atsushi is never made to, and silently thinks that fierceness is simply cruelty put to use to protect someone important.
“Thank you for taking care of him all this time,” he says. Atsushi turns away, but not quickly enough for Kyouka to miss the embarrassment in his expression.
Even if they’re different Atsushis, Kyouka can accept both of them. It’s not beyond him to have more than one friend.