Work Text
You’ll always be the dream that fills my head...
“A… Shinto wedding, Hatsuki? That’s really what you want?”
The blonde quirked an eyebrow, looking at her fiancé with an unamused expression over the top of her wedding magazine. “Does that really surprise you so much?”
Aizawa paused for a moment in thought before sighing softly and shaking his head. “I guess not,” he admitted, “since, if I remember correctly, your parents had a Shinto wedding? And their parents?”
“And their parents,” she confirmed with a nod. “We’re not terribly traditional by any means, but that’s something that’s been passed down on my mother’s side for several generations.”
“...Is that something
you
want though?” he asked with genuine curiosity and a small hint of concern. In truth, he didn’t have much of an opinion on what kind of wedding they had. All that mattered was that she would be his bride, and he her groom.
“I want to continue the legacy.” Hatsuki smiled at him before putting down the magazine and crawling over to him on the couch. “And I wouldn’t mind passing it down, either,” she purred, the sweet smile on her lips now a seductive smirk. He grinned at the far off idea of a family, a daughter, and her wedding one day in the future, turning to lean against the arm of the seat and guiding her over him with his hands on her waist. She stole his lips with hers, and just as quickly, the conversation was over.
In what seemed like a blink of an eye, their wedding day had come. With the shade of the trees and an occasional breeze, the temperature was just cool enough to make their kimonos comfortable for the weather. The sun shined brightly upon them as they walked beside each other from the waiting room to the shrine, followed by a small procession of only their closest family members- and it would have been quite the sight to see, if anyone was allowed to witness their ceremony. That was one thing Aizawa particularly enjoyed about the Shinto tradition: the ceremony was restricted to a small group of family members who would be part of the
san-san-ku-do
. Aside from the priest and shrine maidens, they were only accompanied by their parents and, of course, Hizashi.
Walking beside his future wife, Aizawa found it incredibly difficult to keep his eyes off of her. Her long, golden hair was pulled into an ornate, traditional style because she refused to wear one of the black wigs with the headpiece already incorporated. Whenever he stole a glance down at her, her face was hidden beneath the white paper crown that- according to tradition- was meant to hide the horns of a woman’s jealousy. It went around her head like a visor, with crisply folded origami swan details at the back of her head, and supported the red camellias that accented her hair.
She looked so stunningly unreal. And in true Hatsuki fashion, she chose a bold red for her kimono that was highlighted with elements of white and gold embroidery, while everyone else wore black, matching her groom.
At the shrine, they were ritualistically purified to receive the gods’ blessings for their union. With the fluttering winds, peach blossoms rained upon them, and he swore each one looked even lovelier against her crimson kimono. Even more stunning was the way her deep scarlet eyes glanced his way, and it was impossible not to give himself to her. He would always willingly lose himself to her and be blissfully lost in the world that she made beautiful and vibrant to him. That was what it was like to be in love, and he never wanted to be found again.
Aizawa watched the way her cherry lips just barely moved from their smile. Her voice was nearly lost in the air between them as she whispered, but he just caught it before the words fell away with the small pink flowers that trailed down onto them.
“I love you, Shouta.”
With her words came a familiar blackness, and in another blink of an eye, it was all gone, replaced by a dark room.
Turning his head, Aizawa read 03:14 on the digital clock beside his bed, a small, glowing 13/03 beneath the time reminding him of the date. Waking up alone, his heart sunk into its deepest, loneliest depths. Exactly two years ago, he was so sure that he’d see her smile and hear her laughter again. He sat up with a sigh heavier than lead, bringing his legs around the edge of the bed. For what felt like far too long he simply sat there, staring blankly at the nothingness, his wrists resting against his inner thighs as he did nothing more than breathe and exist.
In his head, Hatsuki’s voice echoed with the words he desperately craved. They weren’t even her last ones to him. Would they have been, if he had gotten there sooner? Even now, he wasn’t sure if it was better that she didn’t die in his arms, or if it was the cruelest experience imaginable to hold her cold body, stripped of its warmth before she could even see him one last time. The heaviness in his heart seemed to burst, sending cold, pin-like shudders through his body and sharp pains into his heart and lungs. It hurt to breathe.
It hurt to live.
...You’ll always be the one I know I’ll never forget.