pages of attraction [kny x reader|oneshot]

shogi - kagaya (fluff)

The king watches his pieces to fight for him.

___

(Color) orbs narrowed sharply at the move, eyebrows meeting in a frustrated manner. What the hell is he thinking for putting his golden general - one of the most powerful piece in shogi - on such a fragile spot in a way to expose his king?

Is this an unconscious mistake? A bait? Whatever the reason, you want to move your silver general and corner his royalty to easily finish the game – but at what cost?

Your fingers twitched under the table, impulsive impatience urging you to finish the game already, but you stopped midway, still reluctant of doing it. Something doesn't sit well in your stomach the same it is with your heart.

You don't want to prolong the game, but the persistent butterflies fluttered towards your chest - freezing you in reluctance that your mind won't let you admit.

And that sensation always takes you aback - because why? Why are you always stalling to continue this helpless game? It's an easy win. You'll win, and you'll prove him whose better between you. Isn't that already enough to satisfy you and your ego?

Your eyes glanced at him, and the way he sat there silently with reverence made you stop to soak in his being. A feeling of soothing ache caressed your heart, and when his eyelashes fluttered – yours stare bore back to the wooden board with confliction.

You hated this inner turmoil you always have to face in his presence. You're ordered to accompany this man by your family as his shadow – his shinobi – and you always taught protecting a dying man is no use. He's fated to die young like those before him, and he never interested you even if you followed and watched him throughout your end of the mission.

That is, until he caught your presence and presented you the liberty of guarding him easily. You kept telling yourself that he is nothing but a man that you must serve only in the shadows of the night, but his insistence and knowing smile always wins against the arguments you have with yourself.

You complied in showing your being before him, you complied when he asked you to converse with him. He argued with you that you can have some of his tea and sweets, and he argued that you are more than a guard, but a friend.

The two of you always seem to be in an endless state of argument, and most of the times he would always revere victorious – and you accepted that with no hardened resolve, because a shinobi have always been a puppet to their mission and will do as just to make their client happy.

Then it slowly became personal.

You accepted the way his kindness melted your exterior, and you embraced the routine of you holding his hand before he sleeps. You took the liberty in accompanying him in walks around his small gardens with a conversation drifted in the air – and surely, you thought of him as your friend.

As years passed, you complied with his wishes and arguments, perhaps out of your pity for the man and his fate or of something special that you won't let yourself admit.

It was no harm, you said to yourself, even when you find how striking he was under the colors of fireworks in new years and how warm he is when he asked for an embrace in cold nights – adhering to his requests are easy for you to provide; and you always had no complaints against them.

That is, until his very presence conflicted an argument between your mind and emotions, trying to sway you not with words but his being alone that he has a place in your heart.

And your mind knew it's counter-intuitive because he doesn't deserve to be in your chest, nor you in his; because you have no future with him, but just his shadow.