If he wasn't shining in the literal sense before, he was now. Hearts began floating up his skin, crawling in endless amounts like a shroud of flat bubbles rising underwater. They were pink and rosy red, a physical representation of the steam that should be coming out of his head. Masao did this to him night after night. When he thought about her, texted her, heard her voice...tasted her lips. It was so hard to resist loving her.

She could craft a sword that would make a legendary smith of old weep. She could present herself in any fashion and show how refined and elegant she was. Strong, sharp, genius-minded. It's all been said and thought and felt before. It's being said, felt, thought, savored, intoxicating right now. Intoxicating was Masao and enchanting was her love. They were confessing to each other in the most beautiful way, uninterrupted and in full openness of each other.

As if the hearts also represented intense heat, Enma pulled at his shirt like he was letting the hot air out trapped within. He'd never complained about being too warm, but she made him different. No hard shell, no suffering in solitude. Masao let Enma be weak in her presence. She made it okay, she made love impossible to avoid. There were other feelings that couldn't be hidden as electricity shocked from his spine while she touched it.

When she cupped his neck, he melted in her embrace. Whatever stone gates kept tears within suddenly disintegrated. Enma was fully crying, clutching her lower back and gently clinging to the outer walls of the ravine that was her back's lower contour. He wept because love hadn't been actualized before in his life. Familial, romantic, platonic. In the truest sense, this was his first love. Enma loved his mother, he loved his family overall.

Enma was able to love someone and say it. Hear it. Bask in it. Breaking the embrace for a moment, he pulled off his shirt and kept leaning back, panting from the heat. "Masao, I'm sorry...I just feel like I'm burning up. I bet this is nothing to you with your time in the forge, but it feels so hot in here." He was sweating, a slight glisten to his broken striped chest. The scars seemed so real, despite being unknowingly artificial.

Putting a hand on his solar plexus, letting it fall down his sharp abs as he caught his breath, he took Masao's hand mindlessly. That was Enma's safety. "I won't lie to you, I've realized there's a darkness in me. A darkness from my upbringing and my trauma, which I thank-you for helping me realize it without us having to speak. That's the power you have." Breaking his speech to look down and observe her hands.

Feeling around her fingers, seeing how wonderful they were and lovely they looked despite being used to work a forge often. Enma turned her hand to just take in the view of her palm. These hands would create much in their life together, wouldn't they? "I am not afraid of your father or your family's judgment. They will learn to respect me because I fulfill a simple role that anyone should if they're going to love you." With a cute smile, he looked up at her once more.

"Your father can't hate me too much if I can keep other suitors away and bring honor to the swords you make." In truth, he was afraid. Afraid he'd disapprove of him, finding some way to break their relationship apart. If that happened, what would he do? He needed to show how hardworking and undeniably skilled he was. Would that be enough? "So...I'm ready when the time comes. Anyways..."

The night wasn't what he expected, which was a good thing. The roundtable was a false alarm, but at least it brought his grandfather and father into the same room for the first time in many years. Still, there was a feeling that wasn't about the obligation to perform. No, there was another new feeling. As his eyes glossed and glistened, Enma shifted forward and became very close with her. Embracing once more, he would whisper.

"...Masao." He wanted to ask how long they had the apartment to themselves, but like casting a spell of divine force, he said her name. Edge of his jaw to hers, face towards her ear, the whisper was wanting. His face was flushed red, but he didn't act nervous. No, he acted in full momentum of his pronounced love for her. He waited, eagerly, to hear her cast the same spell.

Masao Ando