They choose Yuuri in the early spring, just as the plum trees are beginning to bloom, just after another hard winter and three unbroken years of hunger. His sister’s jaw clenches, his father’s smile freezes, his mother’s calloused hands go limp. They do not protest.
They say they chose him for his stature, for his bright eyes, for his quietness and kindness: more practically, for the fact that he has no family to support. They say they consulted the signs and portents, counted the days, checked the hour of his birth, and knew it must be him.
The whispers go like this: they chose him for his standoffishness, his strangeness, because the Katsuki family have never been fishermen and do not understand the pain of losing a son to the sea.
Bookmarked by Victuri1996
06 Dec 2018