Goro Takemura x Reader

Twelve

Who would have thought that angels had long black and silver hair with a thick Japanese accent?

Not you, although you were relieved that it was somebody you could find comfort in by only looking at his face.

His eyes weren't brown, like you were used to it from Hanako and Yorinobu. Their eyes had such a dark shade that they seemed to be pools of ink that harboured knowledge that no one was supposed to ever know.

But this man, clearly and unmistakably of East Asian heritage, had eyes that appeared to be white. His pupils were like pieces of coal placed on freshly fallen snow. The only thing that kept the iris from melting with the white of his eyeballs was a thin line of black.

He was handsome, you were able to tell that much even though your mind started to drift away.

Darkness caressed his face as he approached.

Your heart beat like crazy.

He was four steps away.

Three.

Two.

But the machine gun did not trigger. His eyes glowed red. His head turned to check the weapon. Then he started to move again.

He kneeled in front of you. Although it was hard for you to make your vision focus, you could tell that his gaze roamed over your body. All of a sudden his hands were on your face. The warmth of his breath tickled your irritated skin.

Your lips parted and a sound escaped. His eyes jumped to your mouth, examined it for a second.

Slowly, with the care that only someone had who knew that bones were broken, he pushed one hand underneath your shoulder to pick you up.

But halfway in he noticed that you were tied down.

A yelp of pain made him freeze as the rope cut into your already blistered and bloody wrists. Tears filled your eyes, rolled down your cheeks like trails of liquid gold, burning and salty.

"Forgive me for my ignorance, Arasaka-sama.", this close you noticed that he did not speak English but Japanese with you. "I will now cut you loose."

You had failed to notice since Japanese was your mother tongue. And English wasn't all that hard to know fluently in comparison.

Tired but happy, you managed to bring a smile to your face and closed your eyes to let yourself fall into the safe embrace of his arms.

You still managed to feel how your hands got untied. Loosely and without power they fell to the ground. It was cold and sandy.

Then your feet started to dangle in the air. After that everything went blank.

It was calm.

A gentle breeze caressed the branches of a tree. Cherry blossoms. Pink and white mingled in a sky of bright, royal blue.

You could smell the unmistakable scent. Just like you remembered from home.

Slowly, your eyes opened a crack wide. Sunlight flooded them and turned you blind for a second.

You lay in the grass, long strands of green stroked your cheeks while they danced to the song of the wind. A hint of salt was in the air. The ocean was close.

Confused, you frowned and raised a hand to block out the light.

Someone next to you chuckled.

"You slept long.", Yorinobu looked at you from the side.

He sat on a cushion on the floor, in front of a small table of dark wood. A chess board was painted onto it, but the pieces weren't the usual. They were small chips of wood, labelled with Japanese kanji.

It was an old game called shōgi, very similar to chess but with a more tactical military aspect to it.

Before the break with the family Yorinobu used to play rounds after rounds with Saburo while you tended to the garden of the family home with Hanako.

Whenever your brother was done being beaten by Saburo he let you take his place and you'd play a few rounds. But you were never as good as him.

And Saburo only smiled to himself about your attempts to be equal to his genius.

Suddenly you sat in front of the shōgi table and placed a piece to face the general of your father.

It made Saburo smile quietly, although a smile was only two raised corners of his mouth. The rest of him remained composed, hands folded in his lap while he sat upright, his old shoulders only slumped forward a little.

He was old. But strangely not as old as he should have been.

You hadn't seen your father in a while but even before that he had been well over one hundred years old. His eye was already starting to turn milky but it wasn't blind yet.

He still wore the same kinds of glasses though. Just like he always did. He did not like new things and stuck to the ones he deemed worthy.

With your eyebrows knitted together you threw a glance up to the crown of the tree. The wind made the leaves tremble with soft screams.

Somehow this moment felt familiar. As if you had already lived it.

"You are distracted.", Saburo's voice was heavy with age.

He spoke slowly, yet stern and rough. The tone of his voice made clear that he did not approve of other people who interrupted him. Or did not share his opinion.

Your eyes returned to him.

He truly looked younger than he should have been.

You turned your head to look at Yorinobu.

He also looked younger than he did now. His face was more boyish, without glasses. Probably because he didn't need them yet. His shoulders were less stretched and he was slimmer.

Your attention jumped to Hanako.

No gold on her body. Just flesh and a rosy shimmer on her naturally pale cheeks. Her hair was down, cut to shoulder length but still as black as a ravens feather.

"I am... not where I am supposed to be.", your gaze returned to Saburo.

Approving, he gave you a short and simple nod.

"It is time to follow the rules, okosama.", he said, his old eyes slim. "Everyone has a role to play in this family. Yorinobu knows his. Hanako grew into hers."

"Otōsan.", you lowered your head respectfully. "What if I don't want my role?"

His face remained empty.

"You don't get to choose. A role is given. And you agreed to take upon it by coming into this family. I welcomed you like my own flesh and blood. Now, show me your gratitude."

You had to swallow hard.

"Yes, Otōsan.", you bowed so deep that your forehead touched the cold surface of the shōgi table.