The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Smile Recklessly


“Smile recklessly,” Kusanagi asked, desperate for a bit of hope and normalcy in their crisis.

Totsuka thought of his childhood wish to be the joker in the King’s court, to make the King laugh. He smiled recklessly. “Hey, hey, don’t sweat it. It’ll all work out.”

Yata was holding him, and there was Kusanagi standing over him stricken shock instead of the emotional composure that carried him through all major and minor catastrophes.

Smile recklessly.

Totsuka struggled to breathe. “Hey, hey, don’t sweat it,” he managed to get out. Normalcy in their crisis. “It’ll all work out.”

Courting Red


There was exactly one way Nagare could see ever joining someone like Suoh Mikoto to his cause, and no comfortable way to kill him or his directly and bring his own power to bear.

It took quite a bit of work to get a message to Homura before they did anything rash—like completely destroy Totsuka’s body.

“You can resurrect him without consequences?” Kusanagi’s voice was appropriately skeptical under the diplomatic tone.

“There are always consequences,” Nagare corrected. “But yes, I can bring him back. He’ll have my aura.”

He wouldn’t be the first with two.

“Do it,” Mikoto said.



Thunder cracked and lightning lit up the entire inside of the bedroom. Anna shot up out of the covers, blinking at the brightness. She wasn’t scared. Not even a little bit. Nope.

She scrambled out of bed and crept down the hall, shivering at the continuing flashes and thunderclaps overhead. She reached the couch where Totsuka had crashed earlier, pulled back the blanket, and crawled underneath.

“Huh?” Totsuka stirred, blinking at Anna in sleepy surprise.

Thunder rumbled then snapped. Her grip on the blanket tightened.

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“No,” she said.

Totsuka smiled but tucked her in close.

Better than a King


There were a lot of people that said only kings could truly understand each other. Mikoto wondered if those people had ever met Totsuka Tatara.

He’d find himself staring at his own hands, feeling the weight of violence and power burning inside him, and then Tatara would appear with his soft, gentle smiles and his eyes that saw right through everything Mikoto never found it in him to say, finding the words Mikoto couldn’t, that made everything make sense.

Mikoto stared at Tatara in wonder sometimes, an almost incomprehensible person who understood Mikoto better than anyone else, even another king.