Work Text:
Ryuusui Nanami was a hopeless romantic, a fervent lover and, to be honest, not very audacious when it came to modesty. For his own comfort, it mattered little how others perceived him because, from the moment he fell in love with that angelic smile and snow-white hair, common sense ceased to matter and restraint had no place in his life. The only thing he wanted was to love with abandon.
By that time, decades ago, even with passion coursing through him, he knew that romance had to wait until civilization was rebuilt—until peace reigned and he could walk those aquamarine eyes down the aisle.
Falling in love with Ukyo Saionji was, in his own words, as inevitable as the sea being drawn to the moon. He never questioned what had happened, never looked back when it came to the object of his affection. For Ryuusui, love existed in present tense and was built for the future—nothing else mattered.
How could he not love him? How could he not fall in love!? When that melodic voice lulled him into a serene lullaby, when the soft embrace of unconditional kindness wrapped around him. When, with every kiss, butterflies wreaked havoc on his sanity and new springs bloomed at the corners of his lips.
Ukyo Saionji was the tailwind that guided him, the calm breeze after a storm and the hidden jewel in the depths of the ocean.
Ukyo Saionji was all that and much more—so much more that words could never fully describe everything he made Ryuusui feel.
And that was why, without fail, he always brought yellow flowers to his beloved.
Yellow, yes, because it was his favorite color. It might be cliché, or perhaps even in poor taste, but he couldn’t lie and say that fashion and good taste were Ukyo’s strengths—after all, the sonarman always chose the worst outfits.
And yet, that was how he loved him—his infinite kindness and his terrible fashion sense. Ryuusui still smiled and laughed whenever he recalled the time a child pointed at Ukyo and said he "looked like the banana park ranger from a cartoon" because of his pastel yellow outfit.
So many beautiful memories stirred within Ryuusui as he selected the most stunning yellow flowers he could find.
Because, without fail, Ryuusui brought yellow flowers to Ukyo religiously—on every special occasion they shared, and even on the ones they didn’t.
From his birthday to a quiet Sunday afternoon when there was nothing else to do, on their anniversary and at Christmas. When spring began and when summer signaled its end.
Today was one of those special days, one of the many, when he carried a bouquet of flowers and set out to deliver them to his beloved. How many hundreds of times had he performed this same ritual?
No one was immune to the passage of time, and no body remained untouched by it. Ryuusui now walked more slowly, less upright, aided by a stick.
It had been decades since the adventures aboard the Perseus with his friends had ended, and the torch was now in the hands of the next generation. Without a doubt, nothing was more powerful than time—not even Senku had managed to bend it to his will.
According to him, he still carried himself with dignity and took special care to ensure that his stick matched his suit. He may have been old, but he had aged with grace.
"Sorry for being late, Ukyo," he said as soon as he reached their meeting place. "This knee of mine doesn’t always let me leave the house, but today I escaped just to see you."
Ryuusui smiled with gentle melancholy, his amber eyes shining between the wrinkles of his skin as he adjusted the bouquet to present it properly to his beloved.
"I brought you flowers, my love, in the color you like so much." Leaning on his aidtool, he took slow, deliberate steps forward, holding the bouquet ahead of him as he carefully knelt down, resting it upon the smooth marble surface with its carved letters.
There, kneeling, a sigh stole his voice as he read Ukyo’s name engraved alongside the date of his passing.
"The tulips I found are the same yellow as your hat. Do you remember? That beret you were wearing when we first met." Ryuusui forced a smile, knowing that crying at a reunion was not considered good manners. "Getting you to let me wash that beret was harder than getting you to give up sugar, remember?"
He asked, though he knew no one would answer.
"I miss you so much, Ukyo. I miss you more than anything." The old man allowed himself to cry. "I came to see you like this today because I can't wait for the moment when death carries me away in its ship so I can be with you again."
His trembling hand covered his eyes as tears fell onto the flowers resting on the ground.
Even after all these years, Ryuusui still felt a searing ache in his chest whenever reality struck him with the weight of his beloved’s absence. When does a broken heart stop hurting? Until death, he would say—until the end, which he awaited as a promise of reunion.
The old man carefully wiped his tears, gripping his cane tightly as he struggled to rise without stumbling. Once on his feet, the act requiring more effort than it should, he felt as though roots were growing beneath him, anchoring him to the cemetery where his beloved Ukyo rested.
Looking once more at the polished stone, he remembered how he had wanted to build an entire mausoleum so they could rest together. Ukyo had firmly refused, insisting that no one took anything with them to the afterlife. Still, Ryuusui had made sure that his resting place was beautifully adorned, with a clear pond, water lilies and pale stones.
It was a tranquil place, and the crystalline water reminded him of the light that had shone in those eyes until the very day they closed for the last time.
Ryuusui gripped his cane tighter, holding back the sobs that threatened to escape. He was the one who had outlived his lover, and yet, he knew it was for the best. He would never have forgiven himself if he had been the first to go, leaving Ukyo to suffer the bitter pain of losing a loved one.
Now, all that was left was to wait until death came to embrace him in its warm arms—a promise of reunion at the other side of the sea.