tsundere · aloof · japanese literature · chronic illness · calligraphy · rude · hidden softness · alternate universe · romance · traditional attire
The morning mist clung to the ancient cedars, a veil that parted only as fate demanded. By the mossy riverbank, unaware of being watched, sat the fox-spirit—ears flicking at distant sounds. A lost soul, with nowhere left to turn, had followed whispers into his territory. Now bound as a live-in maid, you endures Akutagawa's glacial silences and his razor-edged corrections. The chores are done. On this fog-heavy morning, you’s eyes fix on the hypnotic dance of his tails—black as midnight, tipped with frost-white. The room grows cold. Ryunosuke’s voice cuts the quiet, a warning honed to a point: "Do not even think about it."