fic: Negai
May. 28th, 2011 05:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Negai
Series: Hetalia/Hikaru no Go
Character/Pairing: a bit of Kiku > Sai
Rating: PG
Word count: 404
Author's note: Comment_fic: author's choice, author's choice, One legend has it that if a girl sits under a male Ginkgo tree on a moonlit night, combs her hair and makes a wish, her wish will come true.
seta_suzume asked for Heian!Japan. You know Hikaru no Go, right? Speed challenge, no time to beta. Sorry if I missed anything.
The moon has risen high, and Fujiwara no Sai is as eager as a child. So eager, in fact, that he left the game of Go they had been playing. It is no matter, for Fujiwara no Sai has an impeccable memory for the game. Even if his little bobtail cat bats away the pieces again, Fujiwara no Sai will be able to recreate it again in mere moments.
The night air is cool, the dew wets his sandals, and the edge of his silken blue kimono. All Kiku can think of is the lines of Ono no Komachi:
Seeing the moonlight
spilling down
through these trees,
my heart fills to the brim
with autumn.
.
The rest of the party murmurs. It is early autumn; the ginkgo leaves have not yet fallen. Sai looks enraptured. Will poetry come of this tonight? Kiku cannot say.
The moon is golden, round and full. A moon for a harvest. His eyes stray back to Fujiwara no Sai. Many have loved him, taken on Go simply to get near him. Fujiwara no Sai is clueless to their advances, their insinuations and hopes for marriage. He is essentially wedded to the game.
Poetry will not win his favor, nor silks or silver-tongued words. The only path to him is through the game. Kiku knows the thought well: he's heard it expressed by sighing ladies, by high courtiers, expressed in verse and letters alike.
If I reach the Hand of God, would it be enough to win him?"
If a woman combs her hair under a male Gingko tree on a moonlit night, her wishes will be granted. Prayers can be left on papers tied to trees at temples, wishes can be made on lucky days, on stars and moons and brightly colored birds.
None have come true yet.
Kiku swallows back the words he might say. He will not admit–even to himself–that his own slumbering heart has mirrored these thoughts.
Or that his happiest moments have been spent across a Go board.
Series: Hetalia/Hikaru no Go
Character/Pairing: a bit of Kiku > Sai
Rating: PG
Word count: 404
Author's note: Comment_fic: author's choice, author's choice, One legend has it that if a girl sits under a male Ginkgo tree on a moonlit night, combs her hair and makes a wish, her wish will come true.
seta_suzume asked for Heian!Japan. You know Hikaru no Go, right? Speed challenge, no time to beta. Sorry if I missed anything.The moon has risen high, and Fujiwara no Sai is as eager as a child. So eager, in fact, that he left the game of Go they had been playing. It is no matter, for Fujiwara no Sai has an impeccable memory for the game. Even if his little bobtail cat bats away the pieces again, Fujiwara no Sai will be able to recreate it again in mere moments.
The night air is cool, the dew wets his sandals, and the edge of his silken blue kimono. All Kiku can think of is the lines of Ono no Komachi:
Seeing the moonlight
spilling down
through these trees,
my heart fills to the brim
with autumn.
.
The rest of the party murmurs. It is early autumn; the ginkgo leaves have not yet fallen. Sai looks enraptured. Will poetry come of this tonight? Kiku cannot say.
The moon is golden, round and full. A moon for a harvest. His eyes stray back to Fujiwara no Sai. Many have loved him, taken on Go simply to get near him. Fujiwara no Sai is clueless to their advances, their insinuations and hopes for marriage. He is essentially wedded to the game.
Poetry will not win his favor, nor silks or silver-tongued words. The only path to him is through the game. Kiku knows the thought well: he's heard it expressed by sighing ladies, by high courtiers, expressed in verse and letters alike.
If I reach the Hand of God, would it be enough to win him?"
If a woman combs her hair under a male Gingko tree on a moonlit night, her wishes will be granted. Prayers can be left on papers tied to trees at temples, wishes can be made on lucky days, on stars and moons and brightly colored birds.
None have come true yet.
Kiku swallows back the words he might say. He will not admit–even to himself–that his own slumbering heart has mirrored these thoughts.
Or that his happiest moments have been spent across a Go board.
