ship content this early on in the game should be illegal... but it's fine i'll have the fluff to keep me company in prison 😌😌

didn't wanna put mniki in title cos thats clickbait 🌚

—

little aimless moments bc i don't think i'm super good at those & i want practice uwu

also nearly threw hands with a chatfic today (got obliterated btw) so i need some fluff

take this with a grain of salt. it's half-meme, half-terribly serious, and 99.9% spoiler-free :^)

Jimmu is skiddynoddlez's kiddo!

— — —

"... But you have to help me!"

"I have to? I have to? Listen — I don't have to do anything."

"Oh wow. Is this an invitation for us to add you onto the suspects list?"

"What games are you playing, Sherlock Holmes RPG?! For the record, I don't give a shit that your dad went missing!"

"WOAH! What the fuck, man?!"

Words upon words force their way into their ears, words that turn into arguments, into insults the more Kasumi listens. It is no different than in the beginning, no different than four years ago, when all the adults did was yell into each other's faces while they stood powerless, knowing they were the cause of it all. It's another scenario now, but it suffocates them all the same, serpentine anger coiling tight around them until their own demon is forced out of its cave, all fangs and flat color as it turns them into its puppet, helpless. Kasumi wants to leave, but they can't move an inch.

"Hey."

A whisper breaks their spiraling train of thought, seconds before a steady arm wraps around their shoulders, and Kasumi feels their skin spike like an EKG. The static in their ears builds into a near-ring, but Jimmu's low murmur somehow manages to worm past it:

"Wanna get some fresh air?"

Is it because I look mad? Is it because I look sick? It is because it's painfully obvious how close I am to snapping and you're just doing this to save everyone else the trouble? They want to say it, but before they can the blond pulls them away, using only a tiny little bit more force than necessary. It's not enough to push them over the edge, but it is getting them pretty damn close, so when they think they're a far-enough distance away Kasumi raises an arm and shoves Jimmu off, savagely, clenching their teeth because they should have known the spark of guilt that follows will only feed the demon.

They're walking down some kind of road. Walking it off. Kasumi has no idea where they're heading, and frankly they don't exactly care either, because all they can think about now are swirling thunderclouds the color of blood. But the Morioh air is nice, and the path seems to be as long as they need to wait for the storm to pass, so they carry on walking until the roadside wildflowers no longer deserve to all be yanked out, the birds start singing again, and the odd yellow sky abandons its impending urge to fall flat onto the earth.

Kasumi finally halts their step. They notice they're out of breath. Through the curtain of hair that conveniently covers up their flush, they can see Jimmu's bright grin:

"Better?"

"Don't ask me that." It is barely a threat, but the blond backs off anyway and lets them cross to a nearby boulder by the side of the road, taking a seat. Kasumi places their hands onto their lap, flexing the tensed-stiff joints. Jimmu saunters up to them, pointing with their eyes at an empty spot on the boulder:

"Can I sit?"

"Go ahead."

They plonk down immediately next to them, but Kasumi notices how Jimmu keeps their hands to themself.

Shit.

"'M sorry." Jimmu directs their gaze from the clouds to the person sitting beside them, that same semi-curious look on their face. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine." Kasumi's expression is hidden beneath their long hair, but whatever it is, Jimmu waves it off anyway. "Your arms are like twigs. It didn't hurt."

"Really?" The brunette asks, sitting up a little straighter — and this time when Jimmu leans over, their shoulders brush without setting off any kind of reaction:

"Yes, really. And... if worse comes to worst, I have a cool bruise for show-and-tell."

"Don't joke about that." Kasumi clicks their tongue, but it sounds more fed-up than angry. They turn around to meet Jimmu's eyes, and the blond smiles before putting their arm around those thin shoulders again, pulling them into a side-hug:

"Don't worry about it, Kaz. I'm all good."

They hear Kasumi inhale as if wanting to say something — but after realizing Jimmu's embrace won't loosen, they sigh and settle for relaxing into it instead.

— — —

jfc this went completely off-track

let's try it again

reminders: Jimmu is the pylon guy's son (Super Fly), and Kasumi is forgetful choild bc Y&M very bad boye

— — —

"So, what do you want to do?"

Kasumi looks around the carnival, a childlike shine in their eyes as they take all the colorful decorations and lively booths in:

"A prize. I saw someone walk past with it just now. This huge stuffed dinosaur with triangular navy spikes down its back, sky-blue scales, and a white stomach—"

"Sure, but..." Jimmu cuts them off quizzically, "why are you describing it to me in so much detail?"

"Because you're gonna get it for me?" The brunette cracks a wide grin, taking Jimmu's hands in their own and shaking it like a puppy's paw. Jimmu doesn't have the heart to pull away:

"Why? You can play the dart game. You're fifteen."

"Well, you're sixteen, so wouldn't it make sense for you to help me?"

"Are you gonna get nervous?"

"Not if I can just stand there silently and observe."

Jimmu huffs out a laugh. "You're so childish sometimes. Fine. C'mon."

They squeeze Kasumi's hand and pull them through the crowd of people, sensing the way the brunette squeezes back. At a particularly busy intersection, they're forced to stop; while standing in wait next to Kasumi, Jimmu suddenly jolts when they feel five dainty fingers interlace with theirs.

"Uhm—!" A small squeak escapes their lips, and Kasumi turns to face them, although their eyes keep darting off:

"Is it okay...?"

"Y-yeah, of course!" Jimmu stutters, the faintest of blushes appearing at the tips of their ears when they feel Kasumi's hand squeeze tight again. And then, abruptly, the brunette brings their hands up to eye-level:

"Wait. Do you mind if I—?"

"There's nothing to see!" Jimmu pulls back at the speed of light, but Kasumi catches their hand anyway and flips it palm-up for inspection.

"Your hand is really calloused."

Jimmu watches, flustered, as Kasumi's thin index finger begins to trail along their palm, curiously, over each bump and crack and ridge, remnants of small wounds acquired over years of pylon-climbing that Jimmu much too early on deemed not worth healing. They've always laughed it off, trying to convince themself that rough hands is just another human feature — but now, seeing Kasumi's baby-smooth palms next to theirs, Jimmu can't say they don't feel at least a little bit self-conscious.

They wait for the questions to come. How'd you get all these? Why are there so many? Ordinary hands aren't supposed to look like this, you know? But all the brunette offers is silence as they continue to trace their palm, so engrossed it's starting to make Jimmu sweat:

"W-well... aren't you going to say something?"

Kasumi looks up at them, bicolored eyes round with puzzlement. Then their gaze softens into a warm smile as they speak:

"You're thinking about how you want your hands to be smooth, right? And how I probably want the same thing?"

Jimmu falls speechless. Since when is Kasumi able to read them so well? Before they can say anything to save face, though, the brunette continues:

"Don't."

Now that, Jimmu didn't expect. Kasumi interlaces their fingers again, before letting both of their hands fall to their sides — but the blond blurts out before the subject matter can slip away:

"Why?"

A moment of silence. The brunette tucks a couple strands of hair behind their ear, fingers elegantly sweeping over the curve of the shell. Their smile looks wistful, when they confess:

"I don't know."

Their hand twitches inside the blond's grip. A nervous thought about how uncomfortable it must be to hold hands with them crosses Jimmu's head, but before they can voice it, Kasumi carries on:

"But... I think it's because then, I'll know it's yours."

They glance up at them, and the gold of their eye catches Jimmu off-guard.

Oh.

"Your hands aren't like any other, so... just keep them as they are." Kasumi clears their throat, the end of their sentence trailing off a little. But a squeak of embarrassed shock escapes their lips, when the blond abruptly pulls them in and presses a kiss to their cheek, warm hand squeezing tight around their own. Jimmu pulls back, smile trembling a little as if it will widen into a full-fledged grin at any second, when they nod:

"Okay."

The path in front of the teens clear up, and the blond pulls Kasumi ahead, by the hand, toward the much-anticipated dart booth.

— — —

ofc they win the dinosaur i'm not a monster 🌚

second drabble based on a thing skiddy sent me!

hope y'all enjoyed~