✻|| 𝓡𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮 ||✶ - 鬼滅の刃

【𝓞𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓲】

↠Fem Reader
↠Fluff

Word Count - 698
Selcouth - Published 1/25/21

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous
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It's always the eyes.

Mostly you'd hear how others would wonder what's in a name. Or sometimes how words always have an underlying truth to them. Or simply just one's outward appearance.

But eyes—oh how eyes were truly the window to one's soul. Comprehending, hidden, meaningful. Eyes truly defined it all for you, all unique and distinguished in their own way. Perhaps some people shared the same colored hue or the distant gaze, but one way or another there were many types of eyes.

There were many different colors, shades too. Icy blue—so innocent and knowledgeable, always matching the gentle quiet souls that harbored them. Deep mocha brown—always independent and secure in their hosts. The common hazel, which you had found to be a mixture of many hues—everchanging and curious. Mysterious green, possessive black and steely grey, there was simply an endless spectrum.

The endless faces you had gazed upon were blended hues now in your mind, although some rare, some stunning, there was something about a perfect gaze that had begun to bore you. The more you gazed—the more you looked, the more they all seemed to blur into one dull hue. Maybe eyes weren't as special as you deemed them to be.

But no—no. It was simply just because you hadn't stumbled upon the perfect gaze yet.

You could remember it as clear as day, when you had finally found that captivating stare. No, it wasn't the endless barricade of bandages that added to the mysterious composure of that man, or the unusual cold appearance of his, or even the coiled snake about his shoulders. It was his eyes.

Mismatched!

Oh how you'd never dreamed of witnessing such an unrivaled gaze. Heterochromia, as you'd later learned to characterize it, was your favorite hue. Maybe you didn't care for the actual shades upon each eye—because such bright turquoise and piercing gold simply didn't mix—yet it captivated you just as much.

You thought nothing of the harsh words or nasty comments that later labeled your existence, because the other Hashira simply hadn't mattered, only this one did. You'd even grown accustomed to the own annoyed remarks that left the mismatched man himself. The more you'd catch his line of sight, the more did the man want to rip those bandages from his own mouth and hide the thing of his chagrin.

But even as he demanded you to speak no words, and urge no strings of kindness, you were content staring into those eyes. Obanai hadn't found the fascination in your own little hobby (if he could even call it that). Eyes were simply just that, what was so important about eyes? Did you obsess over any other ordinary body part?

So when you'd stare, he couldn't dare look in your direction, always glancing aside to avoid that piercing presence of yours. Obanai felt no obligation to return your actions, because what good would that do for him? There was only one gaze that penetrated his mind—and it was the threatening glare of those bloodthirsty demons.

Maybe the haunting past of his own cursed him to forever think of such a cruel gaze, yet the association stuck, and it only reminded him of his own cursed vision. He couldn't quite remember the faces of his own comrades, or even try to recall what your own visage resembled. Was it important? He hadn't needed such a memory to this moment, so he assumed not.

But the more you sat beside him—quietly, observingly and serene, the more Obanai itched to return the look. How long had it been since you had first inquired the thought? Simply a few years, even if your silent relationship blossomed into anything but a friendship. Why did he let you linger for so long?

Turning as if to ask you the question himself, Obanai froze when he finally let his eyes fall upon your striking gaze. Staring wide-eyed—unable to blink, unable to look away, he realized why you had always been so captivated. Still no words exchanged, he could only return your consuming gesture.

Beautiful.

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