(this concept is so cute! i don’t know if i wrote it as you pictured it, but it was fun nonetheless)

tags: bunny shin/hare hiyori, first meetings (??), humor, strangers to nuisances, stalking mention, implied acts of service

Shin had always craved stability.

Stability could refer to many things. He felt stable whenever there was some money saved in his pouch at the end of the month, at least enough to go to the nearby village’s fair and buy himself something nice. The feeling manifested itself when he was in a particularly… decent state of mind, too, distanced from unforeseen circumstances and anything that triggered a strong reaction out of him. Yep. He was doing great.

The knocks on his window would politely like to disagree. That had been an unforeseen circumstance, in the past, although it quickly became routine.

Knock was such a cute way to describe it, in fact. They were practically throwing bricks at the glass, but the bricks were actually just soft paws with overwhelming strength derived from unknown sources — he caught a glimpse of them only once or twice, brief occurrences that gave him more questions than answers.

Whoever this maniacal culprit was, they didn’t seem to catch the hint, not even after two months. They had stuck around for longer than most of Shin’s acquaintances, which was sad and extremely miserable, his mother often said, but he was doing just fine. Clearly.

They were seemingly quite courageous as well, usually visiting him when the only visible things in the night were the stars; not to mention that Shin lived in the middle of nowhere, secluded from the outside world in a quiet forest.

It always went like this: he ignored them for a while and kept doing whatever his hands were busy with, then the banging would get increasingly louder and Shin would unconsciously wish to bang his head against the wall, too. Herd effect, maybe — if the herd was solely made of a single motherfucker who had nothing better to do with their free time —, and, well. He would stop everything he was doing, walk to the front window, and shove the curtains away.

Naturally, the mysterious nuisance would vanish into thin air.
(Yes, they only visited Shin when the curtains were closed; a true specialist in making people paranoid, if you will.)

Shin had a deep love for routines. Routines grounded him in reality and made him feel like a functioning… bunny being, as constricting as they could sometimes be. When such a beautiful concept was introduced to him in ways that he did not consent to, though, things could get pretty weird.

“Shiiin. Are you awake?”

Oh, yeah, they talked. For a motive Shin had yet to know, this stranger — Midori, the name he gave them after spotting the green tone of their paw once — just suddenly started talking one day. Abruptly. And they didn’t stop, either.

The rabbit only groaned in response, but it had been enough to make the stranger grin. Precisely, he could feel when they were amused. “Stop ignoring me, you rude dog.”

Shin hummed in a mildly sardonic manner, which was an habit he had unfortunately picked up from Midori. “The last time I checked, I was a bunny.”

“You should behave more like one, then!” The stranger’s voice was so strong, even from the other side of the window — it made Shin feel oddly observed. “Hmm, in fact, you remind me of a cat sometimes.”

The rabbit scoffed. “That makes no sense…”

The other individual let out a fake gasp. “Am I the only one who receives this heartless treatment, then?”

“You’re the only one who stalks me, yeah.”

“And other people totally missing out.”

It was so absurd that Shin couldn’t help but laugh, caught off guard.

“See! I made you laugh.” He could picture a Midori-shadow proudly crossing their arms. “That’s more like a bunny.”

“Oh my carrots, stop talking.” Shin huffed, crossing his arms himself this time. “Come to think of it, what species are you?”

Silence.

“You—”

“You told me to stop talking.”

“You avoided the question just like this last time!”

“Oh,” The stranger (?) giggled, “so you’re aware that I chose to ignore you, yet you still ask the same question.”

“Well, duh. I am curious about the mysterious entity who disturbs me every night.”

“You flatter me.” Shin couldn’t even tell if they were joking. “Why does it matter, though?”

“It doesn’t. You’d still be the same nuisance.” He deadpanned.

“Shin! How dare you say that, when I thoughtfully brought you homemade soup today?”

The rabbit immediately felt his brain pause. “What? Where.”

The other individual snorted. “Just open the door and I’ll give it to you.”

“…That’s the most blatant start of a murder attempt I’ve ever heard.”

“Really? Aw,” they sighed dramatically, “I guess you’ll never get to see my dashing appearance, then.”

“Wait, are you…”

Shin didn’t wait for an answer — no, he hadn’t even been able to formulate a proper question — he didn’t even think. As soon as the uncertain words left his lips, he turned the doorknob with much more certainty, instantly searching for someone’s figure in the dark.

When he did lay his eyes on them, he feared his legs would give out.

Shin didn’t know why he had more expectations of seeing nothing at all — perhaps he had a feeling that Midori wouldn’t simply show themselves, even though he should’ve seen it coming. The only thing Midori preferred over being secretive was being unpredictable.

“Hi there!” His… new acquaintance? waved his hand, carrying a small basket in the other one. “Ah, your reaction was priceless. Truly worth the wait.”

Shin didn’t know what to say — what to think. His two available brain cells were currently brawling with each other, producing a continuous white noise inside his head.

“Uh…” He helplessly glanced at the ground, feeling his ears flop down. “Give me the soup.”

Short, simple, direct. Way to go!

“What am I, a carrier pigeon?” Midori tutted, raising his free arm to point at his head. His ears. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m actually a hare!”

Shin’s eyes immediately went up.

He had been so caught up in the fact Midori had revealed himself that he didn’t stop to look at the glaringly obvious features in front of him.

“Ahahah, has your curiosity been satiated?” He kept pointing at the ears, wiggling his fingers stupidly. “You may touch them. I don’t usually bite.”

Usually? “…No, thanks.”

“Aw. I want to touch yours, though.”

The hare stepped closer. Shin quickly took a step back.

“No way. Just give me the soup and go back to the woods, or something.” The rabbit insisted.

“You are so utterly cruel, dear Shin. Oh, well,” he handed him the basket with no further complaints, “I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll be back soon!”

It didn’t feel like farewell — it felt more like a warning.

Shin waved at his new friend, nonetheless, as he turned away and really started walking… into the woods, instead of following the trail like a normal individual.

If he got himself killed — albeit he had a small hunch that Midori would be the one doing all the killing —, Shin didn’t know whether he’d feel sad or not. Perhaps it was too soon to tell; they needed to get to know each other better beforehand.

The rabbit looked down, then. Carefully opened the basket. Took the lid off the container. Smelled it.

Oh.

Carrot soup.

If that bastard ever died, he would miss him a lot.