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Entry tags:
the mind's vague structure
Title: the mind's vague structure
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Gaiden
Character(s): Ayatsuji, Kyougoku
Pairing(s): pre-slash Kyougoku/Ayatsuji
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 900
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Kyogoku gives Ayatsuji a doll.
Notes: Commission for EmperorAlpaca! I only know as much as has been translated, please forgive me if everything in here is wrong.
“Your collection is quite impressive,” Kyogoku says, peering over a doll.
Ayatsuji acknowledges his words with nothing more than a hum. He doesn’t need to be told that his collection is vast: dolls are his only hobby, unless you consider solving cases to be a hobby that ends in death. (His handlers would prefer he didn’t think of it in those terms, he’s sure, but his handlers would prefer a lot of things.) Even so, there are still many dolls he hasn’t acquired and longs for.
Kyogoku is one of the few acquaintances (or are they friends?) that match his intelligence, however, and it would be a shame to drive him off.
“May I pick them up?” Kyogoku asks.
“With care.” They aren’t fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch, but gripping too hard would still break them irreparably. Kyogoku may laugh like a monkey, but he’s far more gentle than one.
Kyogoku picks up a kimekomi doll, admiring her hair. “You have quite a variety here… I’m less familiar with the styles of Western dolls as I am with the traditional Japanese ones, but it’s clear that you care for all of them.”
Unsurprising: Kyogoku has always been more interested in Japanese tradition than Ayatsuji has. Their conversations about mysticism are fascinating: Ayatsuji has never been one for stories of demons and gods, but Kyogoku’s critical eye towards unfounded claims of supernatural powers makes what he does believe in all the more convincing to Ayatsuji’s ears.
“A bold claim. Many would doubt that I care for anything at all,” Ayatsuji answers with a wry smile. “Or that I’m even capable of it.”
Kyogoku laughs. It’s softer than usual, perhaps out of respect for their company’s tender (mostly porcelain) ears. “And who is the one who says that few can understand his thoughts?”
Ayatsuji, of course. He doesn’t verbally respond, but he adds a mental tally on a scoreboard under Kyogoku’s name: another win for him. As always, they’re evenly matched: one rarely pulls more than one or two ticks ahead before the other catches up.
Kyogoku spends the rest of his visit in a sea of dolls and puppets, asking Ayatsuji their names and admiring their beauty. Ayatsuji can’t say that anyone has responded so well to his hobby before, and sharing it with someone who appreciates it...
He can’t say he minds.
The next time Kyogoku visits, he’s holding a karakuri puppet. A tea-serving puppet, one from the 17th century judging by the clothes. It’s been well-maintained, but the materials show that it’s a genuine article and not a modern recreation.
“Shall I put it with the others, or would you like a demonstration first?” Kyogoku asks.
Ayatsuji breathes in sharply. “The mechanisms still work?”
Kyogoku smiles. He sets the doll down facing Ayatsuji, a short distance away, then goes to pour coffee into a cup meant for tea - two spoons of brown sugar, no milk. When Kyogoku puts the cup on the doll’s plate, it starts to move forward, shifting its feet as if walking, then stops in front of Ayatsuji and bows its head.
Ayatsuji bends to take the cup from the doll and takes a sip. As always, Kyogoku prepares coffee exactly the way he likes it. “Amazing. It must have received regular upkeep for hundreds of years to function so smoothly.”
“It’s a keepsake from my family.” Kyogoku’s smile is difficult for even Ayatsuji to read, but he knows it’s not entirely happy or entirely sad. “My parents taught me how to take care of it when I was a child.”
Ayatsuji frowns. The puppet is amazing, he has nothing of the like in his collection and he doubts he could find its equal available for purchase anywhere, but… “I can’t ask you to give me this.” Family doesn’t mean much to him, but he knows it’s important to the majority of Japanese society, a majority that includes Kyogoku. This doll could be sold for a sum beyond most people’s imaginations, but a family heirloom is even more valuable than that.
He is not a kind or generous person, he knows, but even he has limits. More so when it comes to one of the few people he would almost consider a friend.
Kyogoku shakes his head. “What use do I have for a tea-serving puppet? I live alone, the only guest I’ve hosted in some time is you, and I have no other dolls to keep it company. No, I insist that you take it: it will bring far more joy to you than to me.”
Joy may be part of the warm feeling in Ayatsuji’s chest as he carefully picks up the puppet to examine it more closely, but he soon puts a name to the rest: gratitude.
“…Thank you very much.”
Many people would doubt that Ayatsuji had ever expressed thanks, or ever would. Even with someone he respects as an equal, Ayatsuji can’t remember ever thanking him for anything.
But Kyogoku shows no signs of surprise, only a wide smile that crinkles his face. “Think nothing of it.”
Ayatsuji raises an eyebrow. “And who is it that said one of my best traits was that I never stop thinking?”
Kyogoku laughs, and somehow Ayatsuji finds himself laughing along. “So I did! Another victory for you it is.”
Another tally added to the mental scoreboard. It’s a tie once again.
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Gaiden
Character(s): Ayatsuji, Kyougoku
Pairing(s): pre-slash Kyougoku/Ayatsuji
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 900
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Kyogoku gives Ayatsuji a doll.
Notes: Commission for EmperorAlpaca! I only know as much as has been translated, please forgive me if everything in here is wrong.
“Your collection is quite impressive,” Kyogoku says, peering over a doll.
Ayatsuji acknowledges his words with nothing more than a hum. He doesn’t need to be told that his collection is vast: dolls are his only hobby, unless you consider solving cases to be a hobby that ends in death. (His handlers would prefer he didn’t think of it in those terms, he’s sure, but his handlers would prefer a lot of things.) Even so, there are still many dolls he hasn’t acquired and longs for.
Kyogoku is one of the few acquaintances (or are they friends?) that match his intelligence, however, and it would be a shame to drive him off.
“May I pick them up?” Kyogoku asks.
“With care.” They aren’t fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch, but gripping too hard would still break them irreparably. Kyogoku may laugh like a monkey, but he’s far more gentle than one.
Kyogoku picks up a kimekomi doll, admiring her hair. “You have quite a variety here… I’m less familiar with the styles of Western dolls as I am with the traditional Japanese ones, but it’s clear that you care for all of them.”
Unsurprising: Kyogoku has always been more interested in Japanese tradition than Ayatsuji has. Their conversations about mysticism are fascinating: Ayatsuji has never been one for stories of demons and gods, but Kyogoku’s critical eye towards unfounded claims of supernatural powers makes what he does believe in all the more convincing to Ayatsuji’s ears.
“A bold claim. Many would doubt that I care for anything at all,” Ayatsuji answers with a wry smile. “Or that I’m even capable of it.”
Kyogoku laughs. It’s softer than usual, perhaps out of respect for their company’s tender (mostly porcelain) ears. “And who is the one who says that few can understand his thoughts?”
Ayatsuji, of course. He doesn’t verbally respond, but he adds a mental tally on a scoreboard under Kyogoku’s name: another win for him. As always, they’re evenly matched: one rarely pulls more than one or two ticks ahead before the other catches up.
Kyogoku spends the rest of his visit in a sea of dolls and puppets, asking Ayatsuji their names and admiring their beauty. Ayatsuji can’t say that anyone has responded so well to his hobby before, and sharing it with someone who appreciates it...
He can’t say he minds.
The next time Kyogoku visits, he’s holding a karakuri puppet. A tea-serving puppet, one from the 17th century judging by the clothes. It’s been well-maintained, but the materials show that it’s a genuine article and not a modern recreation.
“Shall I put it with the others, or would you like a demonstration first?” Kyogoku asks.
Ayatsuji breathes in sharply. “The mechanisms still work?”
Kyogoku smiles. He sets the doll down facing Ayatsuji, a short distance away, then goes to pour coffee into a cup meant for tea - two spoons of brown sugar, no milk. When Kyogoku puts the cup on the doll’s plate, it starts to move forward, shifting its feet as if walking, then stops in front of Ayatsuji and bows its head.
Ayatsuji bends to take the cup from the doll and takes a sip. As always, Kyogoku prepares coffee exactly the way he likes it. “Amazing. It must have received regular upkeep for hundreds of years to function so smoothly.”
“It’s a keepsake from my family.” Kyogoku’s smile is difficult for even Ayatsuji to read, but he knows it’s not entirely happy or entirely sad. “My parents taught me how to take care of it when I was a child.”
Ayatsuji frowns. The puppet is amazing, he has nothing of the like in his collection and he doubts he could find its equal available for purchase anywhere, but… “I can’t ask you to give me this.” Family doesn’t mean much to him, but he knows it’s important to the majority of Japanese society, a majority that includes Kyogoku. This doll could be sold for a sum beyond most people’s imaginations, but a family heirloom is even more valuable than that.
He is not a kind or generous person, he knows, but even he has limits. More so when it comes to one of the few people he would almost consider a friend.
Kyogoku shakes his head. “What use do I have for a tea-serving puppet? I live alone, the only guest I’ve hosted in some time is you, and I have no other dolls to keep it company. No, I insist that you take it: it will bring far more joy to you than to me.”
Joy may be part of the warm feeling in Ayatsuji’s chest as he carefully picks up the puppet to examine it more closely, but he soon puts a name to the rest: gratitude.
“…Thank you very much.”
Many people would doubt that Ayatsuji had ever expressed thanks, or ever would. Even with someone he respects as an equal, Ayatsuji can’t remember ever thanking him for anything.
But Kyogoku shows no signs of surprise, only a wide smile that crinkles his face. “Think nothing of it.”
Ayatsuji raises an eyebrow. “And who is it that said one of my best traits was that I never stop thinking?”
Kyogoku laughs, and somehow Ayatsuji finds himself laughing along. “So I did! Another victory for you it is.”
Another tally added to the mental scoreboard. It’s a tie once again.