The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Soft Spot


Mikoto was like the kind of big cat that let kids crawl all over him. Particular kids. Just two really.

Anna could snuggle up right next to him and even tuck her hand into his without even a grunt of protest. Totsuka could make Mikoto his own personal blanket if he wanted and Mikoto wouldn’t do more than sigh.

He never failed to complain whenever Kusanagi encroached on nap space in an attempt to sit down, but then again, Mikoto may have been audibly put upon but he let Kusanagi sit down anyway.

“Softie,” Kusanagi teased.

Mikoto’s grumpy glare notwithstanding.



She woke him from a world ending in fire.

Mikoto opened his eyes wide in the dark, heart still hammering, aura still thrumming under his skin and in his blood with the ever-present urge to Burn them. Anna’s serious face, her grim mouth, and intent gaze were mere inches away.

He sat up. “Anna.”

“Nightmare,” she said quietly, simply. It disarmed his desire to brush her off gruffly.

Instead, he allowed her to clamber into the bed beside him and tuck herself under his arm, fingers clutching his shirt over his ribs.

They fell asleep like that, his nightmares quieted.