𝖍𝖝𝖍 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

Flashbulb Eyes

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Auhtor: Rosemary_and_Geraniums (on ao3)

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As a child, Illumi supposed he was curious about the artistry of photography. A butler had given him an instant camera as a gift one birthday, back when he was five. He spent the day taking pictures of mundane things around the estate's property. A ladybug on a half bitten leaf. A blur representing the butterfly that refused to stay still. Never did he turn the camera around and capture his own likeness, too aware of the bruises forming under his check and around his eye, throbbing from the previous day's training.

His mother had allowed the momentary fascination, reveling in the temporary silence that came with her son's preoccupation, up until he turned the lens in her direction. As matriarch of the Zoldyck family, Kikyo was always done up in makeup and expensive jewels and clothes, she exuded a prim aura. Illumi remembered looking up at her and seeing how beautiful she presented herself. He wanted to capture that moment in time, to show her how beautiful he thought she was.

It didn't turn out how he wanted.

Instead, Kikyo threw a fit.

Needless photos were to be avoided at all costs.

Of course, with the child-like innocence of a five year old, who still cried at stepping on bugs and didn't quite understand his presence in the world as a killer, Illumi hadn't grasped the need to keep a low profile.

Nevertheless, Kikyo wasn't the one to sit down and calmly explain a mistake.

Illumi tuned out her screaming, since his mother was prone to her fits. Fits that didn't always make sense to him, but this one he felt he may have caused. Did a photograph really lead to this?

He didn't understand, so his imagination worked overdrive to try and fill in the gaps of knowledge. Perhaps she had become possessed, or bewitched, like grandpa always said. Or perhaps it is bad to be photographed. But why?

Perhaps there was more to it than what met the eye. That was the only logical conclusion a child of five could think of.

Illumi started looking through the photos he had taken that day, but nothing seemed to be out of order. The butterfly, the ladybug, there was no trick of the light. He lifted the stack above his head as high as he could, then turned them over and looked at the other side. That's when Kikyo noticed her son wasn't listening. She snatched the photos and the offending camera away.

Illumi stopped receiving gifts from butlers.

On rare occasions Illumi's family would gather together in front of a camera. Family portraits would typically be years apart from the last, their styles changing drastically from one to the next as each of the children grew and their fashion changed.

His mother would gush over all of the kids as they got ready and took their places. Illumi himself couldn't escape ruffled hair and pinched cheeks. In those moments, she was loving and doting, but it was as if a switch flipped the second the camera lit up. There were no more kind smiles, eyes crinkling with what seemed to be genuine affection. In the moments they stood in front of the lens, she transformed, barking quiet orders, nails digging too hard into the flesh of his shoulder.

The happiness from the previous moments would drain away into something more muddled and groggy, to where they could no longer pretend to be a loving family. It formed itself as a presence that settled over the group, souring the air. If Illumi focused hard enough on the feeling, he would've described it as draining, draining all liveliness around him.