Making things right P3
Imported from SF2 with no description.
As I made my way back to the house after taking care of a few things around town, the cool evening air brushing against my skin, the excitement from earlier was still buzzing inside me. It felt good, planning something simple yet meaningful, something that would bring Yuki a bit of joy. The path leading to the house was quiet, the sun dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground.
I was in and out, grabbing the projector, some blankets, and a few snacks. It was quick work, and I was eager to get back to Yuki, to share this little piece of my world with her. But as I was heading out, the front door creaked, and I froze, the weight of my bag heavy on my shoulder. My father stood there, his gaze sharp and inquisitive. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"Going somewhere?" His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it that sliced through the space between us, making the hairs on my neck prickle.
"Just heading back to the cave," I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady, even as my pulse quickened. "Got some things to take care of."
He eyed the bag slung over my shoulder, and for a moment, I thought I could see the gears turning in his mind. Then, his lips curled into a thin, knowing smile. "Taking care of things with the creature, huh?" His voice dropped, low and insinuating, twisting my stomach into knots. "I know you don't get out much with women, but using that monster... that's not the answer. You're there to control her, nothing more."
His words landed like a blow to the gut, vile and heavy. My mouth went dry, my skin crawling beneath his gaze, but I held myself still, kept my expression blank. I couldn't let him see the anger simmering just beneath the surface, the revulsion clawing at my insides.
"I'm doing what's necessary," I said, the words hollow, barely my own.
He laughed, short and cold, shaking his head like I was some kind of joke. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? Just remember—she's a means to an end. Nothing more."
I nodded quickly, biting back the bile rising in my throat. "Understood."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared back into the house, the soft click of the door the only sound in the still air. I stood there for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle over me like a shroud, turning that earlier excitement into something sour and heavy. The way he talked about Yuki—like she was a toy, an object, something less than dirt—left a foul taste in my mouth.
The fear of him finding out the truth gnawed at me, mingling with the disgust his words left behind. He saw Yuki as something to use, something to control. But I had already made my choice. I stepped beside her, and I wasn't about to back down now. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and started the walk back to the cave. Tonight was for Yuki. I just had to focus on that. As the cave loomed ahead, some of the tension eased, but the knot in my gut remained.
Yuki sat in the cool stillness of the cave's depths, her pulse fluttering beneath her scales. The wait wasn't tedious—she'd grown used to patience—but today felt different. A quiet thrill hummed through her, something she hadn't felt in decades, centuries maybe. Ever since Tasuke had come into her life, moments like these had become more frequent. For so long, she had numbed herself to survive, but now... there was excitement again.
Since he left, she'd been thinking—her mind circling around this "movie" he mentioned. What was it? She had no frame of reference, but more than that, she thought about what it would be like to experience it with him. To sit side by side, sharing something new, something that seemed so important to him. Her thoughts drifted back to the promise he made. The one she hadn't expected but had cradled close to her heart ever since. He would stay beside her. That certainty warmed her in the coldest depths of her solitude. It made the wait bearable.
Then, the faintest crunch of footsteps echoed through the cave, steady and growing closer. Her ears perked, and her eye brightened, the flicker of a smile tugging at her lips. She rose to meet him, eager to see the light in his eyes when they finally sat down to share this moment. But as Tasuke stepped into view, lantern light flickering on the cavern walls, her smile faltered. Something was off.
His movements were slower, more deliberate, the usual spring in his step dulled to a weary shuffle. His shoulders hang lower than they should, weighed down by something unseen. And his eyes—normally so warm, so open—held a distant shadow, as if a piece of him had been left behind somewhere along the path.
Yuki's anticipation began to twist into concern. She watched him set the bag down, his hands moving mechanically, like he was going through the motions without really being there. The tightness in his jaw, the furrow in his brow—these were not things she was used to seeing from him. He smiled when he finally looked at her, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Ready to watch your first movie?" His voice was light, forced, like a mask hastily thrown on to hide something deeper.
Yuki's gaze fell to his hands. She could see the slight tremor in them as he unpacked the blankets, laying them out carefully, smoothing each fold with an absent precision. It wasn't his usual, gentle touch. Whatever happened had shaken him, and though he tried to hide it, his silence spoke louder than his words.
He gestured to the spot beside him, but Yuki didn't move. Instead, she lowered herself in front of him, meeting his eyes directly, cutting through the growing tension between them.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice steady, soft, but firm.
For a moment, Tasuke's eyes flicked up to hers, a flash of surprise crossing his face before he looked away, busying himself with the projector. "Nothing. I'm fine," he muttered, but even to his own ears, the words sounded weak, empty. His hands fumbled with the settings.
Yuki wasn't fooled. She shifted closer, her claw gently brushing over his hand, the warmth of her touch coaxing his gaze back to hers. "You're not fine," she said, her voice a quiet but steady presence. "Something happened. I can see it in how you move, how you're carrying yourself. Please… tell me what's bothering you."
He hesitated, his throat bobbing as if the words were caught somewhere deep inside. His eyes flicked back to the projector as if searching for an escape. But Yuki didn't waver, her gaze steady, patient. She could feel the weight pressing down on him, and she waited, knowing he needed time. Finally, with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped, as though the weight he'd been carrying had become too much to bear alone.
"It's... my father," he began, his voice barely more than a whisper. "He caught me while I was getting the stuff for tonight. He... he said something that got under my skin."
Yuki tilted her head slightly, her heart aching at the strain in his voice. "What did he say?"
Tasuke's hands clenched, then unclenched at his sides, his jaw tight as he searched for the right words. "He said... he said that since I don't spend much time around women, he assumed I was using you." He swallowed hard, his face twisting with disgust. "Like some kind of toy."
A cold rush of anger swept through Yuki, mingling with sadness but also memories that made her chest ache. But she stayed calm, her focus entirely on him. Her anger could wait.
"You're not like that," she said softly, her voice filled with quiet certainty.
He looked at her then, and she saw the shame in his eyes, the frustration. "But that's the thing," he said, his voice faltering. "He thinks we're alike. He assumes I see you the way he does, just some monster to be controlled. It makes me sick to think he sees me that way... that he thinks I'm capable of..." His voice broke, trailing off as he looked away again.
Yuki's heart clenched. She pressed closer, her feathers brushing lightly against his arm. "You're not him," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "I know who you are, Tasuke. You've shown me nothing but kindness and respect. Whatever he thinks, that's not the truth."
"Maybe..." he muttered, doubt creeping into his voice. "But I'm still his son. No matter how hard I try to be different, there's always this part of me that wonders... what if I'm not as different from him as I want to be?"
Yuki leaned in closer, her presence warm and steady beside him. "You choose who you are," she said quietly, her words resolute. "You've already made choices that set you apart from him. You're not defined by his actions, only by your own."
He hesitated, his eyes flicking to hers, lingering for a moment before darting away. "Let's just... enjoy the movie," he murmured, his voice sounding small and distant.
Yuki knew he wasn't ready to face the rest, not yet. Pushing him now would only make him retreat deeper. She gave a soft nod, allowing him the space he needed, though her concern lingered like a shadow between them.
"Very well," she agreed, sitting down where he had patted for her. She met his gaze one last time, her eye filled with quiet understanding. "I'm always here if you want to talk."
I know Yuki just wants to help, to ease the tension she senses in me. But on the walk back to the cave, my mind wouldn't stop. It circled around things I didn't want to face. How I feel about her. About everything that's happened. I know in my heart I would never hurt her—I couldn't. But when I let myself admit it, the truth hits hard: she's beautiful. And that simple realization makes my chest ache.
I've been trying to keep things simple. Detached. To see this as my way of atoning for the sins of my family, but it's not easy anymore. Yuki isn't just some creature I'm responsible for—she's become a friend. And she's a female, one I can't help but notice in ways that scare me. Ways that make me feel guilty, like I'm betraying her somehow just by thinking it.
These feelings, they twist inside me. Confuse me. She's the only one I've ever thought of as beautiful in a way that reaches beyond what I've known, and that terrifies me. What if these thoughts... What if they grow into something darker? What if I'm not so different from those before me? The ones who hurt her? I want to step beside her, to be someone different, someone who helps her heal, but none of this is simple.
Needing a distraction, I grabbed one of the many movies I've collected over the years, not even bothering to look at the title. I just needed something—anything—to quiet my thoughts for a while. The movie started with a wide field of flowers, a woman standing at its center, cradling a bloom in her hand. She smiled softly before the scene blurred into a man waking with a gasp, drenched in sweat, his head buried in his hands.
I recognized it immediately. A romantic tragedy. The story of a man who accidentally killed his wife after driving home drunk. It followed his struggle, his guilt, and in the end, his choice—to join her, to escape his pain. It's a grim tale, one I've always hated. But the brutal honesty of it, the way it refuses to wrap things up in a neat, happy ending—that's why it sticks with me. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, things just... don't work out.
I stole a glance at Yuki. She was completely absorbed, her wide, bright eye locked on the screen. It wasn't just curiosity that flickered across her face. As the story unfolded, she felt every moment. I could see it in her expressions—the sadness, the flickers of hope, the weight of the character's decisions. By the end, when the man set up the rope, speaking of his life as a living hell without his wife, Yuki's face fell. The tears that followed broke me. She was crushed.
When he finally kicked the chair away, she did something I didn't expect—she buried her face into my chest, trembling. The credits rolled, but she stayed there, trying to process what she'd just witnessed. I could feel her body shaking against mine, and I realized how much this had hurt her.
I ran my hand gently across her back, my voice barely a whisper. "No one was hurt," I said softly. "It's just a story."
"...I know," she murmured, her voice trembling as her breath hitched. "But it felt real."
I chuckled, though it was mostly to cover my own discomfort. "He's a great actor. Did you... at least like it?"
Yuki lifted her head, her eye shimmering with lingering tears. "I wasn't sure what to expect," she admitted quietly, "but in a way, yes. I did enjoy it. But... I disagree with his final choice."
That piqued my curiosity. "Why?"
Yuki's gaze drifted, distant as she considered her words. "No matter how much it hurts, you must always live. Life is filled with sadness, but it only becomes a tragedy when your life ends. I doubt his wife would have wanted him to follow her. If he had lived for her, that would've been the better choice."
Her words hit me harder than I expected. For all that Yuki has been through—the horrors, the pain—she still believes in life, in the possibility of finding something better. Of turning sadness into something else. And here I am, already trying to give up, tangled in guilt I've barely even earned.
Who cares how I feel about Yuki? I'd never hurt her. I'm not my father. I'm not my ancestors. I'm not them. But as that thought sank in, I became intensely aware of her body pressed against mine, her warmth, her trust. My arms were wrapped around her, holding her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The realization hit me like lightning. My face flushed, heat rising in my chest.
I awkwardly let go, stumbling over my words. "Uh, sorry," I muttered, turning quickly to the projector, fumbling for an excuse. "I should, uh… I should pick something else. Something lighter." Yuki didn't seem to notice my sudden shift—or if she did, she chose not to say anything. She nodded, settling back down onto the blankets beside me, her presence still radiating warmth. "Something funny," I said, more to myself than to her, scrolling through the list of movies with shaky fingers. "We could both use a laugh after that last one."
"I agree," she said, her voice gentle, almost soothing.
I picked a comedy this time. Maybe it would help me settle my thoughts. Maybe I could just enjoy the moment, without letting everything else tear at me.
Yuki was laughing to herself as the screen finally went dark. It was such a strange experience for her, watching a human falling over, being chased but inadvertently stopping the bad humans without realizing it. Unlike the first movie that felt so real, this one was filled with whimsy. She didn't know what to expect from these movies, but now she's starting to get it.
When Yuki looks over at Tasuke, she notes how his gaze is locked onto the screen but he's not laughing. In fact, he looks rather nervous. She can only assume what his father said still lingers. As much as she wishes he would move past this, it's not her place to force him. However, she's not blind to his worries. If his father knew she was free, Tasuke would lose everything.
"Tasuke." He turns to face Yuki.
"Did you like this one?" He asks.
Yuki gave a gentle nod, her smile faint but genuine. “Yes, but there's something important we need to discuss. If you're okay with that?"
His posture straightened, the flicker of nerves vanishing as he gave her his full attention. “Of course."
She took a breath, the cave's cold air filling her lungs as she carefully chose her words. “You feel indebted to me because of your ancestors, and I've accepted that. But, Tasuke... I'm indebted to you as well." Her gaze softened as she spoke, the gravity of her words settling between them. “No matter what happens, I will use all I have to support you—until the day you no longer need me. Don't fear what's to come. Whatever the future holds, we'll face it together."
What Yuki sees wasn't an emotion she was familiar with. His entire face turned red as he cleared his throat a few times.
“T-Thank you," he stammered, awkwardly brushing a hand through his hair. “There's... still a lot on my mind. But knowing you'll be there, it helps."
She hadn't expected to erase his worries entirely, but it was enough to see that the darkness had lifted, if only a little. The tension that had gripped him when he first entered the cave seemed to loosen its hold. They both knew this wouldn't be an easy road, but it was a start. Things were looking up, even if just by a fraction.
“It's getting late," Yuki remarked softly, the cave's silence growing more noticeable now that the movie had ended. “I had fun, though."
Tasuke glanced at his watch and blinked in surprise. “Wow, it's almost midnight. You're right."
He stood, gathering his belongings, while Yuki nudged the blanket they had shared toward him. But he paused, looking at it for a moment before shaking his head.
“Keep it," he said, his smile warm and sincere. “It might not be much, but it's better than sleeping on the ground."
She hesitated, ready to argue, but the sincerity in his smile made her stop. Instead, she offered a quiet nod of thanks. “Very well." Laying it out carefully, she stretched herself on the blanket as Tasuke made his way toward the cave's entrance. “Goodnight, Tasuke," she said, her voice softer than usual.
“Goodnight," he called back, his form disappearing into the darkness.
Yuki stayed still for a moment, the cave unusually quiet. The cold, usually sharp and biting, was softened now, muted by the blanket Tasuke had insisted she keep. As she adjusted it around herself, she caught his scent on the fabric—warm, familiar, and oddly comforting. It filled the air where the stale scent of soil used to dominate, bringing with it a strange sense of peace.
The memories of their evening played softly in her mind—the laughter, the quiet moments. It had been simple, yet it left her feeling calm in a way she hadn't known in a long time. As she closed her eyes, Yuki let herself believe, just this once, that sleep would come peacefully, free from the nightmares that usually plagued her.