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Mikazuki can remember his very first kiss with Yamanbagiri.
This is a curious thing. Mikazuki stopped keeping count a long time ago, but he’s certain they’ve shared at least a thousand first kisses.
*
After a couple decades of this, Mikazuki began to note certain patterns. The first kiss usually happens when they’re sharing a drink. The specifics don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, unless you care about Yamanbagiri.
If they’re drinking sake, Yamanbagiri tends to be the first one to lean in. He’ll be vulnerable and curious, but he won’t shy away. Yamanbagiri’s hands always find their way into Mikazuki’s well before their lips meet. Mikazuki does not become intoxicated easily, but he always gets a little drunk off this. He’ll lick the taste of alcohol off Yamanbagiri’s lips and drink in Yamanbagiri’s hushed, muffled sounds. It’s hard to hear them over crickets in the warmer months, but during the still of winter Yamanbagiri almost sounds obscene.
If they’re drinking tea, the first kiss is a bit more sober, both literally and figuratively. Mikazuki has written poems about this. He hides them in empty, expensive looking tea tins that no one is daring enough to touch. Pen on ink never seems to transcribe what really happens, though. He hoards certain things about Yamanbagiri, such as the way his face looks when he’s putting a great deal of thought into something important. Yamanbagiri’s exasperated sighs are a delight, and his rare jokes are even better. Mikazuki always initiates a kiss during these moments, but Yamanbagiri never seems surprised. He always tastes like a different tea, but beneath that Yamanbagiri is still the same, still a pleasure.
Every few centuries, they’re drinking plain water before their first kiss. This always happens after a dangerous slog of battle. One of them nearly breaking seems to be the most important condition for this kind of kiss. Yamanbagiri will start to chug from a canteen before remembering that the others might be thirsty. The less chivalrous side of Mikazuki enjoys the visual of Yamanbagiri captivated by primal need, even if it’s something as simple as thirst. He’ll watch rivulets of water slide down Yamanbagiri’s chin and trickle onto his tattered cape. It’s never clear who takes the first step in times like these. They’ll lock eyes, disappear into some foliage, and Mikazuki will find himself pressed up against a tree. The bark will sting him through all his layers of fine clothing, and Yamanbagiri will kiss Mikazuki like even he knows that this will end someday.
*
There are times when that first kiss is all they really do together.
There are certain time loops in which Mikazuks will send Yamanbagiri opaque poems that would have been fashionable in the heian era. These poems are confusing to everyone else, and an obvious rejection to the intended recipient. Yamanbagiri, polite retainer that he always is, always makes sure to respond with the exact same words. I’m glad that you enjoyed it. Thank you for making your intentions known. Mikazuki will observe Yamanbagiri go through a few gloomy weeks, but he’s always resilient in heart and body. He finds other objects of affection, and Mikazuki is glad of it.
(Gladness and happiness are not the same thing.)
There are certain time loops in which Mikazuki’s anger overrides everything else. He’ll be furious at his fate, furious that he’s ever expected to smile and dispense wisdom, furious that the end of this time loop always causes pain to Yamanbagiri. Their first kisses are always tender when he’s this angry, and Mikazuki will make sure to kiss someone else the very next day. An audience is necessary because gossip will need to wander around the Citadel until it reaches Yamanabgiri. Mikazuki never receives a reply after that.
(In all these centuries, though, Mikazuki has never brought himself to kiss someone in front of Yamanbagiri.)
*
There are times when the first kiss is only the start of a long, good evening.
This is rare. Mikazuki knows how to leave his partner wanting more. He knows when to leave. There’s an art to both things.
However, Yamanbagiri is also a work of art and Mikazuki can only have so much self-control. Therefore, yes, sometimes the first kiss drags on and on, and they end up sprawled out together on an engawa. They could be drunk, or caffeinated, or glad to be alive. The particulars don’t matter. Escalating things so quickly is a mistake, and Mikazuki knows this. If they have sex right after their first kiss, Mikazuki doesn’t sleep with Yamanbagiri again during that time loop. There should be some kind of punishment for indulgence.
Usually Mikazuki will pull back, laugh, and extend a hand. He’s numb to repetition, but it always feels terribly new to have Yamanbagiri naked in Mikazuki’s bed.
There are the rare occasions, when Mikazuki ends up in Yamanbagiri’s room. In Yamanbagiri’s bed. This is one of the few mysteries left to Mikazuki. He’s never managed to figure out why some iterations of Yamanbagiri are a tiny bit bolder.
“How do you know exactly what I’ll like?” Yamanbagiri murmurs something like this nearly every time.
“Because you’re worth knowing.”
*
More often than not, though, Mikazuki manages a modicum of discipline. One kiss leads to one after another. Night after night after night. He smiles at Yamanbagiri in corridors, teases him openly, and listens when he has concerns. After a certain point, Mikazuki could probably repeat Yamanbagiri’s fears back to him. Word for word, breath for breath.
One day these time loops will break. Someday Mikazuki will be gone. And someday Yamanbagiri will be more impressive than he already is.
Mikazuki knows he won’t see this happen, so he keeps finding ways to kiss and encourage Yamanbagiri. He waits for the night that Yamanbagiri comes to Mikazuki’s doorstep, he waits until they fall into each other, physically and emotionally. It doesn’t matter if Yamanbagiri is a nervous, brittle mess. Mikazuki knows respite when he has Yamanbagiri in his arms. He knows respite when he can make Yamanbagiri arch and moan and forget everything else.
Something invisible but substantial builds between them. This nameless thing is composed of private jokes and public flirtation. It’s there in the room when Mikazuki wakes up beside Yamanbagiri and doesn’t think about what they’re both about to lose.
*
Of course, there are times he experiments with avoiding Yamanbagiri entirely. There are entire time loops where they don’t share more than ten words (although Mikazuki does hear rumors that Yamanbagiri knows he’s being ignored.)
Most of the time, though, this isn’t possible. Aruji assigns them to too many of the same tasks. Mikazuki can’t resist riling Yamanbagiri up a little. Or Yamanbagiri sits next to Mikazuki a few too many times during war councils.
Mikazuki never initiates when he’s in this mood but, somehow, Yamanbagiri always finds creative ways to take the first step. There’s post-repairs kisses. Tipsy kissing. ‘We got stranded in a cave’ kissing. There’s one memorable time loop in which Tsurumaru had dared Yamanbagiri to kiss Mikazuki, and Yamanbagiri had grabbed a fistful of Mikazuki’s shirt and done just that. Mikazuki then proceeded to spend the better part of fifty years wondering exactly how circumstances had to perfectly align to allow for that to happen.
There’s one time loop, though, where Mikazuki thought he had balanced everything perfectly. He hadn’t ignored Yamanbagiri- they were close comrades, in fact- but they had never once fallen into kissing one another.
Things otherwise progressed as they always had. Once again, Mikazuki was a weak, lurching mess. Every time he charged at Yamanbagiri, Mikazuki saw blinding white cloth out of the corner of his eye. If it distracted Mikazuki, it must be distracting Yamanbagiri.
There was still a great deal of crying this time around. This was almost always the case.
Mikazuki shouldered an even greater burden after this thousandth victory. Yamanbagiri found a way to lean in. He pressed a kiss to Mikazuki’s forehead. He pressed a kiss to Mikazuki’s lips.
And then time rewound.
Everything started again.
*
Mikazuki can remember his very first kiss with Yamanbagiri.
He doesn’t know about time loops, yet. He senses that something’s amiss, of course. It’s like when a pressure behind one eye heralds the onset of a headache. There’s a similar sensation in his heart. There’s a premonition of danger, but it’s not anything Mikazuki can anticipate or name. For now, though, he’s not thinking of experimentation or consequences. He’s more captivated with his newly human body and all the pretty faces he sees every day.
Take Yamanbagiri, for example. Yamanbagiri hides beneath his cape, but he doesn’t hide from responsibility. He’s graceful and skilled and something of an enigma. You couldn’t call Yamanbagiri stoic, really, but you couldn’t call him weak, either. They engage in long conversations in spite (maybe even because) of the vast differences between the two of them.
They’re not drinking anything when they sit outside together on a certain evening. The moon is full, and they’re not talking about anything in particular. However, at one point Yamanbagiri catches Mikazuki’s eye. Yamanbagiri slowly pushes his hood back. He sits very still, his gaze constantly drifting to Mikazuki’s lips.
“Don’t just make me sit here,” Yamanbagiri whispers.
“Am I not allowed to admire you?”
“There’s more than one way to admire me, you know.”
Mikazuki does know that. He’ll come to know that better than anyone.