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On the same day the home was repossessed and the last attendant was finally dismissed, they met for the first time. The spring air was busy preparing itself for the arrival of summer and Kazuha was busy watching the remnants of his family’s fading legacy crumble away until it weighed nothing on his shoulder. He remembers the first breath he took once relieved of his burden -- he remembers the crisp taste of rain showers and cherry blossoms, the feeling of fresh dew coating his fingertips -- that first breath of spring was sweeter than all the rest.
On the same day he began his life simply as Kaedehara Kazuha and not the last living son of the dying Kaedehara clan, he met him -- with his messy blonde hair pulled back loosely with a strand of white string, plaid blue scarf thrown lazily around his neck, a Vision that pulses to life by his hip, his subtle grin and gentle eyes shining brilliant amethyst underneath the morning sun.
The second breath Kazuha takes once relieved of his burden catches in his throat and temporarily robs him of his ability to speak.
Mixed into the natural fragrance of the spring air is the overpowering scent of adventure and recklessness. Kazuha has yet to grow used to it.
He must be the last one. Kazuha clears his throat, “Are you Tomoharu?”
“That’s me!” He announces proudly, hands placed on his hips to strike a confident pose. “I apologize for taking a while to a--”
“I’m afraid I have to dismiss you.” Kazuha cuts in abruptly and Tomoharu accidentally bites his tongue in the middle of his sentence. Kazuha feels guilt build in the pit of his stomach, but he reminds himself that Tomoharu is just another unfortunate victim of poor timing and misfortune. He only wishes that he could have saved Tomoharu the long trip from the outskirts of Inazuma City to the gloomy remains of the Kaedehara estate.
“Wait, what?” Tomoharu sputters upon being met with bad news right after arriving. He flails his arms while Kazuha stares. He takes one step forward towards Kazuha and Kazuha takes one step backwards away from him. “I know I was arranged to come by a few months ago, but I was given permission to delay my arrival for a few months due to… a personal crisis.”
“You aren’t at fault,” Kazuha explains, though he isn’t quite sure where to start. “My father passed away only last month and caused many complications... which is why I was unable to contact you earlier about your dismissal. In any case, there is no Kaedehara estate for you to work at anymore. You’re free to go,” Tomoharu looks devastated, so Kazuha attempts to repair some of the damage he must have done to Tomoharu’s heart, “I’m sorry you had to come all this way for nothing.”
“It’s alright,” Tomoharu chirps, but the look on his face suggests that it is not in fact alright. “It wasn’t a long trip. I’m sorry to hear about your father though.”
“Thank you.”
Tomoharu glances off to the side awkwardly before turning back to Kazuha. With a hint of concern in his voice once he realizes that Kazuha is all alone, he asks, “So, what will you do now?”
“I don’t know.” Kazuha answers honestly without hesitation. He notices the way Tomoharu’s eyebrows knit together in concern even more, but he thinks little of it. “I’ll just walk and come up with something along the way.”
“You’re a strange guy.” Tomoharu laughs a little too long for Kazuha’s comfort and Kazuha scowls. “I like that about people usually - but you’re totally lost.”
“A life spent wandering is not so bad,” Kazuha feels as though he has to defend himself from Tomoharu’s previous statement, “I think I’ll go traveling,”
“Can I come with?” Tomoharu’s reply takes Kazuha by surprise, especially when he was just called strange for his decision. Not to mention that this is their very first meeting -- and Tomoharu is casually asking to go off with a complete stranger. A complete stranger who just fired him from his previous job.
Kazuha blinks twice, once to process Tomoharu’s request, and once to express his utter confusion. “Why? Don’t you have a place to return to?”
“Well,” Tomoharu begins, and he almost looks embarrassed. Kazuha wonders what could have led his father to hiring such a carefree man. He practically goes against everything his father stood for. “I spent the last several months tying up loose ends and dropping everything to come to take a job I was fired from just now, so…”
Kazuha waits for Tomoharu to continue. When he does not, Kazuha gestures impatiently for Tomoharu to finish his sentence.
“I’m totally broke and have no friends,” Tomoharu confesses. His answer is much more depressing than Kazuha anticipated. He is unsure how this man is worthy of a Vision, let alone being qualified enough to have been hired by his strict and no-nonsense father.
Taking pity on Tomoharu, Kazuha finds himself agreeing reluctantly. “Okay,” A part of him feels guilty for being the one at fault for causing Tomoharu’s unfortunate situation to begin with, and having a partner to travel with may not be so bad. Although Tomoharu is a total stranger, Kazuha is unable to find a reason to say no. He smells no incoming danger or deceit. Tomoharu seems to mean well enough. “But I’m not paying you,”
Tomoharu barks out another hearty laugh. Despite how loud he chuckles, the sound falls gently on Kazuha’s ears. “That’s fine! I wasn’t asking you to in the first place.” He nudges Kazuha playfully, but Kazuha swats his hand away and starts walking towards the estate gates. Slightly offended by Kazuha’s cold gesture, Tomoharu pouts but follows behind him anyway, “So, where to?”
“I told you, I don’t know,”
“Oh, you actually weren’t kidding about not having a plan at all?”
Kazuha quickens the pace of his strides but Tomoharu continues to trail after him closely.
“Hey, can I call you Kazuha? That’s your name, right? Just ‘Tomo’ is fine with me.” Tomoharu’s voice calls out from behind him. Kazuha swallows an exasperated sigh. It seems that he’s traded the responsibility of preserving his nobility and its diminishing riches for another. “‘Cause, y’know, you’re not technically nobility anymore?” When Kazuha does not respond right away, Tomoharu clears his throat and attempts to pull back. “Sorry, is that too soon?”
Another moment of silence passes and Kazuha can tell that Tomoharu is growing nervous with Kazuha’s lack of an answer with how his voice takes on a sheepish tone. “Sir? Are you there?”
Today, Kazuha feels as though this new life that he is about to start is going to be much better than the one he has left behind.
With a coy smile, he glances over his shoulder to meet Tomoharu’s panicked expression.
“Just ‘Kazuha’ is fine.”
A new life begins,
Wandering where the wind leads.
Kazuha wonders what comes next.
-
(Tomoharu’s blood-curdling scream startles Kazuha out of his nap. He jolts awake, reaching for his sword, assuming that they had come under attack. Camping out in the wilderness is never safe, Kazuha is aware of this and has prepared himself to face any worst case scenario he may encounter. Instantly, he’s on his feet, shaking off any remaining feelings of drowsiness. He doesn’t smell danger, though Tomoharu’s scream says otherwise. Kazuha whips his head around ready to unsheathe his blade--
But he sees nothing in particular.
More accurately, he sees Tomoharu flailing about, arms reaching around for his back while he jumps and wails.
“Get it off!” Tomoharu shrieks, barreling towards Kazuha. Kazuha blinks, wondering if he could still be half-asleep. Tomoharu is crying when he buries his head into Kazuha’s chest, trembling as he hunches over to reveal a pair of onikabuto clinging to his back. Tomoharu’s knees suddenly buckle and he crashes onto the floor, dragging Kazuha down with him. The feeling of the onikabuto skittering further along his back elicits another shrill screech that grates on Kazuha’s ears.
Kazuha looks down at Tomoharu shivering in his arms pathetically. He takes the two onikabuto in each hand and pries them off, throwing them into the nearby shrubbery. He eyes the Vision by Tomoharu’s hip, followed by Tenshukaku off in the distance, then Celestia floating above the clouds.
Kazuha rubs his eyes before he returns to Tomoharu, just to make sure he isn’t trapped in a deceptively realistic dream.)
-
Kazuha watches the coin Tomoharu flicks into the air spiral through the air and land gracefully on the back of Tomoharu’s hand. With an excited grin, Tomoharu quickly reveals the result to Kazuha, waving the coin happily in front of his red eyes.
“Tails! We’re going left.” Tomoharu announces, oddly proud of his ability to flip a coin to make decisions for him.
Kazuha decides to comment on it for once, “Do you have to do that every time we come across a fork in the road?”
“Absolutely. It makes things more fun,” Tomoharu spins on his heel and begins to head down the path on the left without hesitation. He motions for Kazuha to follow with a leisurely wave of his hand.
Kazuha’s eyes follow the trail of red leaves underneath Tomoharu’s feet. Spring has faded, summer ended in the blink of an eye, and autumn is soon to follow. Kazuha’s gaze lingers out on the horizon, taking in the deep crimson glow of Inazuma in the autumntime. In the distance, he sees the faint outlines of Inazuma City partially obscured by the sunset.
Spring feels like so long ago. How far is he now from the place he once eagerly called home?
“Kazuha? Are you coming?” Tomoharu calls out from further along the road, waving his arms to catch Kazuha’s attention. Tomoharu then turns to stare in the same direction Kazuha is looking in. “What do you see?” Straining his neck, Tomoharu gasps. “Oh, the city? You wanna go back for a bit?”
Kazuha considers it, curious as to what has become of his previous home. But he looks back to Tomoharu, and decides that it can wait. He prefers the life he lives now over the one he had before. A little more time spent on the road alongside Tomoharu and his terrible sense of humor does not seem so bad either.
The city can wait.
“Not now,” Kazuha begins walking towards Tomoharu, who reaches for the top of Kazuha’s head but Kazuha walks directly past him and Tomoharu’s hand swings through the air. Tomoharu stares at his open palm, having caught a handful of nothing. “I am going to take a nap.” Kazuha states simply, heading towards a tall tree out in the field.
And with that, Kazuha leaps and pulls himself onto a branch.
“You can’t take a nap here.” Tomoharu complains while Kazuha settles himself into a comfortable position. Without responding verbally, Kazuha points at his closed eyes and folds his hands over his stomach. “Hey. Kazuha. You can’t just nap here.” Tomoharu tugs at his sleeve, growing increasingly frantic when Kazuha begins to snore loudly and dramatically. “Kazuha, no!”
-
Tomoharu’s sharp gasp is what rouses Kazuha from his artistic trance. Putting down his pen, he shifts in his seat to glance over at Tomoharu, afraid that he might have hurt himself doing something he didn’t stop to think twice about. But when he sees Tomoharu’s wide eyes soften with unmistakable affection, he follows his line of sight and spots a bundle of white fur with large blue eyes.
Tomoharu has found a stray cat.
Kazuha watches Tomoharu drop to the ground on all fours and begin trying to beckon it closer by meowing at it.
Tomoharu has found a stray cat and now believes he can communicate with it.
One of Tomoharu’s hands extends towards it and the cat hisses, batting at Tomoharu’s slender fingers with its claws unsheathed. Tomoharu yelps and jumps back in terror, not expecting the small creature to become so aggressive. It doesn’t seem to deter him from the previous goal he had in mind, and Kazuha thinks about advising Tomoharu to take a tactical retreat for now and return with some fresh fish.
Not that Tomoharu would even listen to him in this state. Kazuha observes the look of determination and wonder in Tomoharu’s violet eyes and sighs.
“Here, kitty, kitty…” A string of embarrassing noises bubble past Tomoharu’s lips as he continues inching towards the cat while his chest is pressed flat onto the ground. Though Kazuha wants nothing more than to return to his work, the uncharacteristically high pitch of Tomoharu’s voice makes it difficult for him to focus.
In a moment of brilliant stupidity, Tomoharu lunges for it with his arms outstretched, scooping it up into his hands with a triumphant smile. Kazuha grimaces as the cat begins to yowl and hiss, flailing wildly and raking its claws across the fabric of Tomoharu’s clothing. Kazuha’s heart sinks when he pictures the amount of damage that he will have to mend once Tomoharu’s period of infatuation is over. The cat shreds through all of Kazuha’s remaining free time along with Tomoharu’s sleeves.
Tomoharu begins to lean in towards the cat, intent on planting a kiss on its pink nose.
Before Kazuha can yell at him to stop, he watches as the cat plants its claws on Tomo’s red nose instead, swiping cleanly across. Kazuha holds his head in his hands as Tomoharu screeches and drops the cat onto the grass. While the cat lands elegantly and gracefully, Tomoharu trips over his own feet with blood spilling past his fingers and soaking into his gloves. He tumbles onto the ground clutching his face, groaning in pain as Kazuha searches around for a clean cloth to clean the wound with.
Now he will have to repair the tears in Tomoharu’s sleeves and in his dignity, wash blood out of his collar, and lie to him by telling him that everything will be okay and that he did not see it happen.
Kazuha gazes longingly at the city in the distance.
-
(“What are we naming her?” Kazuha asks, scratching the cat’s chin while it purrs away happily in his arms.
Tomoharu looks at him with dark jealousy in his eyes, cheeks puffed to form a childish pout. Half of his face is covered in bloody bandages.
“Azuki.” Tomoharu responds.
“Her fur isn’t red at all. Doesn’t look like azuki.” Kazuha says, still playing with the cat who has latched onto his finger lovingly. “How about Tofu?”
“She definitely had red all over her fur when she scratched me.” Tomoharu points at her accusingly. “She’s Azuki now,”
Kazuha snorts while Azuki gnaws on his fingertips.
“Okay.”)
-
Tomoharu likes to say that the scar on his nose came as a result of a fearsome battle with an equally fearsome foe. He also likes to say that the battle carved into his soul a new reason to wield his blade just as it carved the scar into his skin.
“My opponent that day fought like no other,” he recounts with unmistakable nostalgia, running a calloused finger across the jagged scar. “I have replayed that battle in my mind a thousand times over. It feels as if it were just yesterday.”
He is so dramatic.
Kazuha remembers this ‘legendary battle’ differently than how Tomoharu likes to tell it.
He also remembers the aftermath of said battle quite clearly, especially the tears that welled up in the corner of Tomoharu’s swollen eyes. He remembers having to wipe blood off of Tomoharu’s cheeks while he whined, and he remembers how he had to comfort a weeping Tomoharu in his lap. He is frequently reminded of the long hours he spent mending Tomoharu’s clothes after he was beaten by a kitten any time Tomoharu complains about Azuki or presses a kiss into her fur.
When he reflects back on a particular memory, Kazuha realizes that he may have been the one who planted the idea of this so-called legendary battle in Tomoharu’s mind.
“It’ll be your battle scar.” Kazuha once said as a spur of the moment lie for comfort, rubbing circles into Tomoharu’s back as he pressed his nose into his scarf in shame. “All warriors have scars to show off,”
With a laugh, he cuts the thread from his needle and folds the blue plaid scarf neatly in his lap. The tear from when it was caught in a tree branch is gone, and the scarf almost looks good as new. Kazuha nods, pleased with his own work.
He looks down at the bundle of white fur at his feet. Azuki violently hacks up a hairball then rolls over onto her back with a spoiled meow -- entirely Tomoharu’s fault -- and paws at the air demanding a belly rub.
Ah yes, Kazuha muses as the corner of his lips involuntarily curls into a smile. How fearsome indeed.
Kazuha thinks Tomoharu should tell more stories about how he got the mysterious red stain on his favorite blue scarf instead.
-
“Tomo, the shop is that way.” Kazuha points in the opposite direction Tomoharu is currently facing. Finally returning to Inazuma City after nearly a year, Kazuha slowly readjusts to his surroundings. Stone paths and crowds of people have become unfamiliar to him over time. He tries to tune out the conversations of the people nearby, fighting against his bad habit of eavesdropping when he shouldn’t.
“I want to eat something sweet,” Tomoharu’s reply is completely unrelated to Kazuha’s observation. He still has not looked in Kazuha’s designated direction.
Finally returning to Inazuma City after nearly a year has Tomoharu unable to control his sweet tooth. Kazuha finds no reason to blame him -- he has been overwhelmed by the aroma of sugar and mouthwatering spices from the moment he stepped into the city during festival preparations too.
“But the shop--”
Tomoharu wears a stern expression as he cuts Kazuha off, “I want to eat something sweet,”
“Yes, but our supplies--”
“Sweet. Things.”
Kazuha stares up at Tomoharu, unflinching and ready to challenge his ideals. Tomoharu crosses his arms and locks eyes with Kazuha, engaging in a fierce battle. They stay in the same position for several minutes, maintaining perfect eye contact until Tomoharu finally cracks first and looks away.
Instead of giving up entirely, Tomoharu begins reaching into his clothes and fishes out a sleepy Azuki from her hiding spot, propping her up in his hands to face Kazuha.
Manipulating her arms, Tomoharu speaks with a cute tone, “ Kazuhaaaa, I’m hungry. I want to go with Tomo to eat something sweet. ♡”
Azuki mews in confusion.
Kazuha’s expression remains unchanged, along with his stance on the matter. “That won’t work on me.”
“I figured…” Tomoharu finally accepts his defeat with a pouty frown and shrug of his shoulders. He places Azuki on his shoulders but she climbs back underneath the folds of Tomoharu’s clothing anyway. Kazuha is glad to see that their relationship has improved and it seems that Tomoharu has forgotten about the unfortunate scar incident. “Okay, so, supplies! Let’s pick up a toy for Azuki too. Then dinner.”
“If it weren’t for your first meeting with Azuki, we’d still have a lot of sewing supplies still on hand.” Tomoharu laughs, Kazuha understands it as Tomoharu avoiding the subject and refusing to dignify it with an actual response. Kazuha goes along with Tomoharu as always once he takes the lead. “Supplies, toys for Azuki, then dinner.” Kazuha repeats, fully aware that Tomoharu will not follow the plans perfectly without any detours.
But it’s fine even if he doesn’t. He is like the weather on a warm spring day -- bound to be unpredictable, yet any outcome is never entirely unwelcome.
Even uneventful days like these are better with him in it.
-
“Did we really have to share a room?”
Tomoharu looks up at Kazuha from the novel in his hands and shrugs. Kazuha doesn’t have anything else to complain about. Tomoharu managed to bargain their way into a room at a fairly nice inn for the night, but he could have tried for two.
“Two rooms are expensive.” Tomoharu turns the page, captivated by the book in his hands. Kazuha cranes his neck to read the title, though he’s never heard of A Legend of Sword before. Though if it is something that is able to get Tomoharu’s full attention, it must be nothing short of impressive. “You spent a lot of money on sewing supplies. Plus, it’s just for a night,”
“If you actually take care of the clothes you wear, I wouldn’t have to.” Kazuha jabs playfully at Tomoharu, rolling out the bedding and prepping their sleeping space. “You get your sleeves shredded by Azuki’s claws more often than actual swords.” Kazuha fluffs a pillow and then throws it at Tomoharu, giggling when it hits him right in the face with an audible ‘ oomph!’ Tomoharu topples backwards onto the floor. “And you can’t even dodge a pillow.”
Tomoharu leaps to his feet, lunging across the room to hide behind something before Kazuha can throw another pillow at him. Kazuha follows suit, stocking up on as many pillows as he can before he scrambles after Tomoharu.
A pillow whizzes through the air and Tomoharu ducks right before he can take another pillow to the face. A second flies through the air and Tomoharu manages to catch it and block the third one that Kazuha flings at him. They fall to a standstill when Kazuha has run out of ammo and Tomoharu is the one with a weapon in hand. They study each other’s movements, putting their years of training into use in this heated pillow fight. Kazuha lowers his stance and Tomoharu shifts his feet to allow himself to react to Kazuha quicker.
Tomoharu pretends to throw the pillow in his hands and Kazuha flinches, bracing himself for impact but nothing comes after. Kazuha begins to back away slowly once he realizes the dangers of being unarmed, but Tomoharu finally charges at him and attacks Kazuha with an overhead swing. Kazuha goes down on the second hit and Tomoharu discards the pillow to tackle Kazuha down onto the mattress, being careful to shield Kazuha’s neck and head while cushioning their fall with his own body. Kazuha goes down swinging though, beating down on Tomoharu’s shoulder with his fists lightly enough so that it doesn’t actually hurt -- it tickles Tomoharu instead.
Tomoharu glances up with a bright smile and Kazuha gasps when Tomoharu’s face ends up much closer than Kazuha had expected. Kazuha is unable to escape when Tomoharu has his entire weight rested on top of him, trapping him in place. This is the first time Kazuha has been close enough to feel Tomoharu’s breath graze against his neck, making him shudder as hot air tickles his skin. Something about their lack of distance is not entirely unpleasant but it makes Kazuha’s heart forget how to beat in rhythm. Tomoharu’s eyes shine a vibrant violet hue, matched only by the radiance of his smile.
Kazuha loses all rational thought, his body moves before his brain can command it.
Kazuha manages to free his arms, bringing them to cup Tomoharu’s face. His fingers trace the scar that runs across his nose, smiling fondly at the memory of how Tomoharu got it. Tomoharu closes his eyes and lets Kazuha’s hands roam as they please across his face, humming as Kazuha pulls and pokes at his cheeks. Kazuha brushes away the bangs that obscure part of Tomoharu’s face and finds more scars littered across his skin; one cuts across his brow and another is by the corner of his eye.
Kazuha frowns.
“Don’t worry, I got those when I was still learning how to walk as a child.” Tomoharu laughs away Kazuha’s worries, at first, but follows up with a story even more concerning, “Well, that’s half a lie. The one by my eye was from when I was helping out in the kitchen and dropped a knife on my face.”
“Why would you think saying that would make me feel any better?” Kazuha’s face contorts into a horrified expression, “You dropped a knife on your face?”
Tomoharu shrugs. “I got better.”
Kazuha pinches down on his cheeks hard until Tomoharu whines and thrashes his head around to free himself from Kazuha’s grip.
Once Kazuha is finished with leaving two red fingerprints on both of Tomoharu’s cheeks, Tomoharu sticks his tongue out at him. Kazuha’s arm reaches for a pillow nearby and slams it into the side of Tomoharu’s head to get him to roll off.
-
Tomoharu asks an unexpected question when the sun finally comes into view behind the clouds.
“What makes you ask?” Kazuha deflects with a question of his own, wading into the river to catch tonight’s dinner.
“Last night had me thinking. It was the only time I’ve told you about something that happened during my childhood,” Tomoharu isn’t sure why he needs a reason to ask about Kazuha’s past, “We’ve never even talked about ourselves to each other. Don’t you think it’s about time?”
“It’s not important. It’s in the past,” Kazuha is focused on something other than the conversation at hand, so Tomoharu waits before he presses Kazuha for an actual answer again. “My past isn’t something worth talking about.” With that, Kazuha’s hand darts into the water and he holds a fish above his head.
With a triumphant shout, Kazuha presents the flailing fish out in front of his face to display his victory to Tomoharu, “Look! I caught a fish!”
Kazuha tosses the fish onto the shore, it lands with a moist plop next to Tomoharu on the grass. Tomoharu inches away from its thrashing body.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.” Tomoharu watches as a second fish flops onto shore next to the first. He grimaces at the sight, unsettled that the first fish appears to be staring right at him with dead eyes. “Actually, how old are you?”
“I’m eighteen.” Kazuha stops to count the months of how long they’ve been traveling together. “ Nineteen . Besides, there’s nothing much to say. The Kaedehara Clan was once powerful and now it’s gone.” Kazuha wrings the water out from his sleeves and proudly waddles back onto dry land. Kazuha does not know what Tomoharu wants to hear. He was raised by maids and attendants, he snuck out at every chance he got, he barely remembers his father’s face and he has forgotten his mother’s. “The Kaedehara bloodline probably ends with me,”
“You don’t want kids?” Tomoharu tilts his head.
“I don’t think I would be a good father.” Kazuha throws together a clumsily made firepit and motions for Tomoharu to start a fire. He points aggressively at the bundle of firewood, impatient and hungry.
Tomoharu snaps his fingers, creating a few sparks of electricity. “Speaking of fathers, what happened to yours?” Once he is able to create one large enough to start a decent fire, Tomoharu leans over and sets it ablaze with his Vision.
Kazuha fans the fire until it grows to a reasonable size. “He died.”
“Well, yeah, but how did he die?”
“That’s…” Kazuha dips his head, away from Tomoharu. It takes him a moment to decide whether or not to tell Tomoharu the truth. “He took his own life.” Kazuha adds more fuel to the fire. He had left the memory behind the moment he stepped foot outside of the estate for the last time and buried it underneath new memories of his journey with Tomoharu. He never considered himself particularly close to his father, and he was never too fond of the life his father led. “It was the debt and the shame that came with having that debt. The responsibility of being unable to bear the Kaedehara Clan’s legacy played a part in driving him over the edge as well.” Kazuha does not mention that he was the one who found his father’s body alone in the garden.
“What about your mother?”
Kazuha falters. The memory that resurfaces pains him more than the last. “I never met her.” He lies this time, still running from the truth. He buries his memories of his mother so that they can never resurface again, along with that same garden stained with the blood of his parents.
There is no good way to tell a friend that he comes from a family that would rather die than watch themselves fall into ruin. Perhaps they thought that Kazuha would soon join them. Tomoharu should not have to shoulder his broken family’s failures, nor have to know that Kazuha was never taught how to love or be worthy of love.
“It doesn’t bother me. What’s done is done, I don’t think about it anymore.” Kazuha changes the subject to save Tomoharu the agonizing pain of an awkward silence. No amount of regret or grief would change the past. “Let’s eat and talk about something else.”
-
Kazuha trudges angrily through the muddy path, fists clenched by his side as he scolds Tomoharu, “I told you that it was going to rain.” He slicks his drenched hair back and out of his face, wiping the rainwater out of his eyes with his sleeves. The sound of lightning slicing through the surface of the pool of water nearby startles Kazuha, and he snaps. He finally swivels around, shaking a fist at a displeased Tomoharu, “I told you that we should find somewhere to hide. I told-- ”
“Yeah, yeah-- I get it. You told me so.” Tomoharu grumbles from behind, shielding himself from the heavy downpour as best as he can with his hands. Azuki yowls from inside his haori, complaining loudly when her fur comes into contact with the rain -- another thing that Kazuha told him about. Lightning strikes closer and Azuki begins to cry out even louder. “Can you take her?” But before Tomoharu can give Kazuha a chance to answer yes or no, he’s already reaching into his clothes to pull out Azuki, who flails viciously in his hands when exposed to the full brunt of the rain.
Kazuha scowls, taking Azuki and holding her protectively to his chest. “I hope those three lavender melons were worth it.” Kazuha hisses and turns on his heel, walking away from Tomoharu at a brisk pace. “Next time I tell you there’s going to be a storm, you will listen to me. Or else I’m no longer relieving you of Azuki when she starts crying!”
Tomoharu has no energy to bicker with Kazuha in this state. He drags his feet to match Kazuha’s pace, wheezing by the time he manages to reach him. He hunches over, putting on an act to gain some of Kazuha’s pity. It doesn’t work when Kazuha’s hand comes down on his back, slapping him back into shape.
“If you catch a--” Kazuha starts but his arm reaches for Tomoharu immediately once he senses a violent shift in the air gathering around the two of them. Tomoharu notices it too but reacts faster, grabbing Kazuha by the wrist to stop him halfway and shoves him to the side. A burst of electricity crashes down onto Tomoharu and sends Kazuha flying. Kazuha holds onto Azuki, wincing when he feels electricity course through his limbs and fizzle out with heat in his bones. He tumbles onto the ground, caked in mud. Azuki climbs out of his arms unscathed and begins pawing at Kazuha’s face frantically.
Every part of Kazuha’s body aches. It somehow hurts to dig his fingers into the mud even though his entire arm is numb, and a sharp pain cuts across starting from the base of his skull to in between his eyes when he tries to open them. The ringing in his ear grows in intensity when he attempts to pull himself up to his feet, palms driving into the wet earth to steady himself enough to force himself to stand. He slams his fists against his legs when they are too numb to move and when he sees the faint outline of Tomoharu’s body in the distance, out of reach. The pain is manageable, and he’ll deal with it later -- but Tomoharu , Kazuha digs his nails into his thighs pleading for them to move, Tomoharu will always come first.
When he regains feeling in his legs and takes a step forward, Azuki turns and starts sprinting towards Tomoharu. Kazuha stumbles after her, begging his legs to move faster as he navigates through the harsh rain with his blurry vision. Every drop of rain that falls against Kazuha’s skin feels like a knife being driven into his flesh. When he finally reaches Tomoharu’s body, Kazuha crumples to his knees and he searches him for any sign of life. He reaches for Tomoharu but remnants of lightning lash out at him when he gets too close and he pulls away to shield himself. Kazuha waits impatiently for any more residual sparks of electricity to fade before he rolls Tomoharu onto his back.
Kazuha cups Tomoharu’s face, trying to wake him, hoping that what he saw was wrong and that Tomoharu was not struck by lightning directly. Kazuha starts at Tomoharu’s neck, checking for a pulse. When he feels nothing, Kazuha reaches for his wrists with trembling hands. Growing increasingly panicked, Kazuha brings Tomoharu’s hand to his forehead, praying to whatever god is willing to listen to his desperate pleas to spare Tomoharu’s life. He waits, and waits, and waits -- until he feels a faint pulse barely holding on by a thread. Kazuha drops to press his ear against Tomoharu’s chest, listening close for a heartbeat.
He realizes only then how short their journey together was. There is still so much the two of them have yet to do, have yet to experience together.
Kazuha peels away Tomoharu’s clothing, searching for the vision that should hang by Tomoharu’s hips in a frenzy. He cups it in his hands. It still shines to his relief.
“Don’t take him away from me.” Kazuha knows this would break him. There are too many things he still needs from Tomoharu. “Please, not him.” Not when the memories of a happier life have finally grown equal to the life of misery he left behind. Kazuha fears falling back into it without Tomoharu anchoring him in place.
When he finally hears a faint heartbeat, Tomoharu suddenly jerks back to life with a gasp. Tomoharu clutches his chest in pain, doubling over and taking in desperate gulps of air. He coughs, every breath he is able to take is thready and weak.
“Am I… Am I alive?” Tomoharu’s voice is hoarse and barely audible. He stares at his hands, then at the grey sky. When he looks at Kazuha, his hopeful expression plummets, “Oh, if you’re here, then I must be in Celestia.”
Kazuha is unable to muster even the slightest laugh at Tomoharu’s horrible delivery of a terrible joke, somehow both amused and bemused that Tomoharu is able to remain so calm after being struck by lightning. Kazuha calms himself before he lunges at Tomoharu’s throat with his arms outstretched. He throws them around Tomoharu instead, burying his face into Tomoharu’s shoulder, hiding his tears in the rain and letting them sink into Tomoharu’s thoroughly soaked clothing.
Kazuha can’t lose him so soon. That’s all this fear is.
“Hey, hey. ” Tomoharu soothes him with a hand rubbing circles into his back. He guides Kazuha’s head upwards to look at him. “I’m okay. I’m fine. It’s just some lightning. We’re okay.”
Kazuha sputters out a laugh in disbelief.
Tomoharu rests his forehead against Kazuha’s. “Are you hurt?” Kazuha shakes his head, his shallow breaths slowly return to normal with the help of Tomoharu’s reassurance. “Then we’re okay.”
He’d miss this . He can’t lose him.
-
(The bolt of lightning that coursed through Tomoharu’s body a week ago must have fried his brain beyond repair. They have fallen back into their usual routine, aside from the addition of Tomoharu’s new hobby.
Kazuha watches him produce sparks of electricity between his fingertips for what feels like the thousandth time this afternoon. His new fascination with his ability to control electro energy is impressive, if not concerning.
“I think being struck by lightning allowed me to grow closer, more attuned to my Vision. After being fried nice and crispy, I think I understand how to use it better.” Tomoharu claps his hands together, and purple sparks fly off his fingertips and burst into miniature fireworks in the air. Kazuha forces a smile at Tomoharu while he and Azuki stand a safe distance away from him. “I’m done. You can come back now,”
Kazuha and Azuki share a worried glance before Kazuha takes the first step. Azuki hesitates before she trots after Kazuha.
“I’m able to direct electro energy to different parts of my body already. If I can learn to control it well enough, I may be able to train my brain -- or whatever -- to react to various stimuli automatically. Without frying it,” Tomoharu rambles on and Kazuha has given up on understanding his long rants about elemental energy long ago.
“So, what does that mean going forward?”
Tomoharu grins once Kazuha asks. His smile is too wide and too smug for Kazuha’s crumbling sanity to handle.
With the confidence of one hundred men, Tomoharu answers the question Kazuha wishes he never asked.
“I can be stupid faster. ”
Kazuha smacks him upside the head.)
-
Azuki sleeps soundly curled up into a ball on Tomoharu’s chest, blissfully unaware of the workings of the world outside. The rain is relentless, flooding the open paths and rendering them untraversable. The lightning, too, strikes randomly at everything it can possibly reach. Kazuha hears the faint crackle of electricity rippling across puddles of water nearby. Kazuha is still unable to completely shake off the fear that the sound of lightning brings after what had happened to Tomoharu.
Kazuha peeks his head out of the window, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. But with weather this bad, he doubts his own abilities to predict when the storm will pass. All he finds is the smell of singed grass and burnt wood. When he exhales, he tastes the sweetness of the rain, coating his tongue entirely and overpowering all of his other senses. When the thunder roars overhead, Kazuha ducks back inside to hide from the flash of light that pierces through the skies and strikes the earth right in front of the abandoned cottage.
“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t keep yourself warm.” Tomoharu drawls, playing with Azuki’s ears to muffle the sounds of the rumbling thunder. He’s sprawled out leisurely on the wooden floor, his scarf folded neatly beneath his head to act as a cushion. Tomoharu pats the space beside him, “C’mere. Let’s just sleep through it,”
In the years they have spent traveling, they have never encountered a storm nearly as bad as this. Kazuha has never been unable to stomach the smell of a thunderstorm until now; something about the lightning that streaks through the skies is bitter and spiteful. Something is off, but Kazuha blames it on the fact that he has not slept for more than a few hours in days. Kazuha shuts the window and strolls over to Tomoharu, taking a seat next to him. He reaches out for Azuki and strokes through her white fur with his fingers. He envies her ability to fall into such a deep slumber so easily.
“Come on. Go to bed.” Tomoharu tugs on Kazuha’s sleeve with his free hand. “We don’t have anything better to do. I know you haven’t been sleeping well lately either,”
Kazuha pulls off his scarf and tosses it to the side.
“Wait, but you could have--” Tomoharu starts when he watches the cloth flutter through the air and land away from him.
“I haven’t washed it.”
“Oh, gross. Understandable.”
Tomoharu clicks his tongue and holds Azuki close to his chest while he shifts in his position. He stretches his arm across the floor, holding it out for Kazuha.
“You can use me as a pillow,” Tomoharu’s solution is embarrassing. When he notices Kazuha’s hesitation, he adds, “Oh, come on. You’ve seen me naked but you won’t use me as a p--”
Kazuha interrupts him before he can finish, “Don’t. Stop talking.” And with a sigh, Kazuha leans back and rests his head on Tomoharu’s arm. Kazuha stares directly at the ceiling, unused to being so close to another person. He folds his hands neatly on his stomach, unsure about what exactly he should do with them in this situation. This is much more unbearable than sleeping directly on the hard wooden floors.
“You can come closer.” Tomoharu turns to face Kazuha, “Actually, can you come closer? The place you’re sleeping on is making my arm go numb.”
Kazuha moves onto his side, bringing his head to settle on Tomoharu’s shoulder, then onto his chest next to Azuki when Tomoharu nudges his back with his hand. The arm Tomoharu had outstretched snakes around to wrap around Kazuha protectively. Kazuha chooses to focus his attention on Azuki’s sleeping face to distract himself from his own unsteady heart. He doesn’t dare move any closer, still easily overwhelmed by the scent of adventure and the longing for the unknown that Tomoharu carries with him.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Tomoharu suddenly asks and Kazuha quickly shakes his head. “Do you need me to move?”
“I’m fine.” Kazuha mumbles into Tomoharu’s clothes, voice muffled by the fabric.
Kazuha feels Tomoharu sit up slightly under him, “What did you say?”
Kazuha’s answer is caught in his throat.
Tomoharu’s voice goes soft, as if he’s afraid of scaring him, “Kazuha?”
As if he could ever scare him.
Kazuha’s words fall past his lips faster than he can catch them and make sense of them.
“I’m cold.” Kazuha isn’t sure why exactly he lied, or why he felt like he had to. Tomoharu pulls him in closer, wraps his arms around him tighter and Kazuha finally releases the tension in his shoulder. Kazuha relaxes into Tomoharu’s embrace, sinking into the warmth he brings even though it riddles him with guilt when he doesn’t want Tomoharu to let go. This feels safe. This feels right.
“There you go, nice and warm. Good night, Kazuha.” Tomoharu yawns, and Kazuha stays silent. “Kazuha?” He feels Tomoharu’s finger tap his arm. Kazuha pretends to be asleep. Tomoharu still keeps him in a secure embrace, and when Kazuha thinks that Tomoharu will let go of him--
He doesn’t. Instead, his hands come to cover Kazuha’s ears, shielding him from the storm. He presses a kiss into Kazuha’s hair and Kazuha’s heart swells.
When Kazuha is sure that Tomoharu has fallen asleep, Kazuha slides his hand across Tomoharu’s chest to find his heartbeat. Shyly, Kazuha’s hands slip underneath the layer of fabric over Tomoharu’s chest to feel his heart on his palm. Relief washes over Kazuha, and he pulls himself up to bring his ear to where Tomoharu’s heart is.
Once, twice, then again, and again it beats.
Kazuha stays up until the storm dissipates, listening to the proof that Tomoharu is still alive, and still with him. When the sun shines, Kazuha’s hand is still on Tomoharu’s heart and he lies dreaming.
-
“Thoma said that we can stop by the teahouse whenever. We got the okay from big bro Kamisato, and little sis Kamisato apparently really likes you.” Tomoharu finishes replacing his old bandages, humming away happily as he fastens it in place with a neat knot. He extends his arm and waves it around to make sure the bandages are tied properly and tightly. Satisfied with the results, Tomoharu slips back into his haori and enthusiastically leaps to his feet.
Instead of using the door, Tomoharu hurtles through the cottage’s open window. Kazuha holds his head in his hands when Tomoharu tumbles through the grass instead of landing gracefully. Kazuha opens the door and walks through with Azuki.
Kazuha hopes those wounds on Tomoharu’s body will heal quickly, somewhat worried that Tomoharu is moving about with such quick and sharp movements despite his injuries. “Who’s Thoma?”
Tomoharu stands and dusts off his clothing, picking out leaves caught in his hair. Tomoharu mimics the appearance of horns on his head with his hands, fingers pointed upwards towards the sky. Kazuha remembers who Tomoharu is referring to.
He seemed nice.
“Oh.”
Genuinely nice.
Barely any of the Kamisato estate staff were particularly memorable to Kazuha. He was surprised to find that Ayaka still remembered him despite only meeting once during their childhood. He was even more surprised to find that she and Tomoharu were already on friendly terms -- Tomoharu never seemed like the type to mingle with nobility.
“How did the two of you meet?” Kazuha finally asks, his curiosity growing to an unbearable size.
“I was introduced to him by someone from my hometown. She used to work for the Kamisato estate. Thoma and I hit it off pretty well on our first meeting but I ended up not staying at the Kamisato estate for very long.” Tomoharu answers simply and Kazuha recognizes this as the first time he’s ever mentioned any sort of ‘hometown.’ Tomoharu adds, “He’s also the one who was able to connect me to someone who could help me secure a position at the Kaedehara estate instead. Your father’s standards were near impossible to reach without some extra help.”
A recommendation from the Kamisato estate, Kazuha muses, that answers the question he had wanted to ask on the day he met Tomoharu. Even after traveling alongside each other for so long, Kazuha has yet to find a single trait of Tomoharu’s that his father would have approved of on his own.
Tomoharu continues, “Thoma helped me out with a lot of other things, of course. Even though he doesn’t seem like it at first, he’s good at getting things done. He’s really great. It was nice to be able to run into him again.”
Kazuha combs through his hair, rubbing where Tomoharu had kissed him the other night. Kazuha’s gaze flits off to the side, avoiding Tomoharu. It stings slightly -- that Tomoharu would praise Thoma to this extent when he had introduced him to Thoma as merely his ‘friend who likes to sleep a lot.’
“I see,”
Tomoharu raises a brow at Kazuha’s short and snappy reply. With no other motive than just to mess with Kazuha, Tomoharu opens his mouth to let loose a string of nonsense.
“Could it be that you’re jealous?”
Kazuha scoffs. Tomoharu laughs and pulls him along.
-
(“Your Vision,” Kazuha starts, “When did you receive it?”
“Oh, this?” Tomoharu takes his vision and tosses it towards Kazuha. “I’ve had it for a while. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
‘Pretty,’ is not usually the first word that comes to Kazuha’s mind when speaking of Visions. His thumb runs over the glassy surface of the Vision, feeling it pulse and react to his touch. Though Tomoharu has a point, it is beautiful when seen up close. Kazuha traces the symbol embedded in the gem with curious wonder, captivated by its warmth.
He hands it back to Tomoharu.
“Did it feel any different? Before and after receiving one, I mean.”
Tomoharu makes a vague gesture with his hands, “Not really. It’s different for everyone.”
“What did yours symbolize?”
“Who knows?” Tomoharu ruffles through Kazuha’s hair, “Maybe you can tell me when you receive one too.”)
-
With a satisfied sigh, Tomoharu melts into his arms as he sinks onto the wooden table wearing an expression of bliss. He rests his head in his hands, mumbling something about wine and cats.
The atmosphere at Komore Teahouse never fails to offer a sense of calm. It offers Kazuha a moment to rest and collect himself, along with the chance to watch Tomoharu unwind and drink himself silly.
Tomoharu pushes himself up and reaches for his glass, “Do you think you’ll ever settle down one day?”
Kazuha sets down his cup. He thinks for a moment, but it doesn’t take long for him to reach an answer.
“I don’t think I’m the type to do so.” Kazuha leans back into his seat, wondering where Tomoharu will take this conversation, “I’m much more suited for a life of wandering from place to place.”
Tomoharu swirls the wine in his glass, “Not even for someone?”
Kazuha’s eyes widen, taken aback by Tomoharu’s question.
“No one would want to settle for someone like me. ” Kazuha dismisses the thought with a wave and a passive smile, “Rather than settle down, I’d like to just travel and see the world with someone.”
“What about me?”
Tomoharu does not look up from the liquid in his cup.
Kazuha opens his mouth, but he fails to form a reply. Though he searches his mind for a way to respond, Kazuha finds nothing. He thinks of laughing it off and blaming Tomoharu’s question on the alcohol -- but Kazuha has seen the way Tomoharu looks at him when Tomoharu thinks he’s unaware, how his gaze lingers on him for a little too long when he laughs. Kazuha remembers the kiss that Tomoharu placed on his head and something in his chest aches, but it is not his heart.
His heart soars, and longs to be with Tomoharu.
And yet.
Kazuha’s words betray his thoughts.
“I like what we have now,” Kazuha whispers. “Traveling together.” He offers Tomoharu a non-definitive answer in place of his cowardice.
“Alright,” Tomoharu nods and sets his glass down too. “That’s good. We both like traveling together.” Then he clears his throat, Kazuha chooses to ignore the hurt that flashes through Tomoharu’s eyes briefly when he takes on his usual cheery expression, “Well! It would be a shame to waste this wine--”
Kazuha swats away the hand that reaches for the bottle of Mondstadt’s famed dandelion wine that Tomoharu spent the entire day looking for.
“You’ve had enough.” Kazuha scolds and Tomoharu pulls away timidly. “I don’t want to deal with you if you get drunk. I’m sure Taroumaru doesn’t want to either.”
Suddenly, Tomoharu gasps and swivels his head around to the door. Kazuha turns too and Tomoharu’s hand swipes across the table to grab ahold of the bottle of wine that Kazuha denied him just moments before. Kazuha exclaims in shock, embarrassed that he had fallen for such a simple trick and amazed that Tomoharu would even follow through with such a childish plan.
Tomoharu generously pours himself another drink with a shit-eating grin. He places his glass back onto the table, gesturing towards it to taunt Kazuha.
Kazuha pounces onto Tomoharu, attempting to wrangle the bottle out of Tomoharu’s grasp.
Tomoharu falls over and the bottle still in hands slips when Kazuha slams into him harder than he had intended, and its contents spill onto Kazuha. The bottle clatters to the ground and rolls under the table, out of reach.
“No! My wine!” Tomoharu cries out in distress, scurrying across the floor after the bottle. Kazuha clears his throat at Tomoharu’s misplaced priorities and Tomoharu’s forehead slams into the wooden table.
Tomoharu freezes. Kazuha’s face is hidden behind his wet bangs, but Tomoharu catches Kazuha’s lips twitching in frustration.
Then Kazuha pushes back his hair, shaking off the droplets of alcohol in his hair. He glares at Tomoharu until he hands him a clean cloth to use, and Kazuha continues glaring at him while he dries himself off.
-
“Can I kiss you?” Tomoharu is slurring his words by his twentieth drink, falling onto Kazuha’s lap and burying him under his entire weight. “You’re pretty, like a flower.” Tomoharu rolls onto his back and reaches for Kazuha’s face, pinching his cheeks. “If flowers could hold swords… like a hot cactus. If you were a plant, you’d be a hot ass cactus.”
Although confused by Tomoharu’s words, Kazuha is flattered that Tomoharu views him as an attractive plant. Kazuha pats the back of Tomoharu’s head lazily, trying to keep the world from spinning after he managed to prove that he can , in fact, outdrink Tomoharu, Komore’s Teahouse’s former reigning champion. The feeling of triumph that came with his victory lasted for only a few minutes while he had spent what felt like hours dragging Tomoharu back to their inn for the night. All he feels now is regret when the world spins and spins.
“No.” Kazuha replies, struggling to make his lips move to produce a sound. After he speaks, Kazuha isn’t sure if what he said was even coherent as he gathers his scrambled thoughts. He continues running his fingers through Tomoharu’s fluffy hair, pretending to be stroking through Azuki’s soft fur. He crinkles his nose with a displeased frown. “You reek of alcohol. I don’t want that in my mouth. Kiss my neck instead.”
“Your neck is too far.” Tomoharu whines, “Come here. To me.” Tomoharu attempts to motion for Kazuha to lean down to meet him, but his drunken motions make him appear as a puppy desperately trying to paddle through the air.
Kazuha hums, grabbing onto Tomo’s clothes and pulling upwards. Tomoharu does not budge and Kazuha gives up. Kazuha slumps over clumsily too quickly and his forehead slams directly onto Tomoharu’s nose. Tomoharu groans in pain and discomfort while Kazuha nuzzles affectionately against Tomoharu’s cheek.
It’s suddenly hot, unbearably hot -- even though winter is a snowfall away and all the autumn winds have gone to sleep. Kazuha shrugs off his haori and loosens his clothing underneath to escape the heat. Yet Tomoharu’s body gives off an irresistible warmth that gets Kazuha drunk easier than cheap sake or Mondstadt’s dandelion wine -- he sinks into it, and doesn't care if it ends up swallowing him whole.
He wants to deny the possibility of being anything more than friends, and this moment of drunken infatuation is nothing more than a bad decision shared between the two of them. A kiss, however, would make this hazy dream real, and Kazuha is terrified of facing that reality. But he wants this. Whatever this is.
“Can I touch you?” Tomoharu mumbles into Kazuha’s lap, and Kazuha nods slowly. Tomoharu peers up at him with a deceptively innocent gaze, “Kazuha?”
“Yes.” Kazuha answers verbally when he realizes that Tomoharu didn’t catch his previous answer, and feels Tomoharu’s hands begin hesitantly traveling up his thigh and onto his waist. Tomoharu fingers tug at Kazuha’s obi as if waiting for permission. Kazuha loosens it for him and brings Tomoharu to his collar, urging him to pull his kimono apart and off of his shoulders. “Please.” Kazuha whispers, shuddering when Tomoharu’s fingers brush against his collarbone and trail down his bare chest.
Tomoharu pushes Kazuha back gently onto the mattress, fingers dipping under Kazuha’s chin to raise his head for a kiss. Kazuha stops him just in time, bringing a hand between their lips with a pout. Tomoharu blinks, backs away, and then remembers -- he reeks of alcohol -- and he laughs. As per Kazuha’s original request, he starts by kissing Kazuha’s jawline and leaves red marks all along his neck. Kazuha’s hand leads Tomoharu to the rest of his clothing which Tomoharu pulls away eagerly, continuing to leave kisses in a trail across Kazuha’s chest and stomach. He stops at the waistband of Kazuha’s red tights, awkwardly fumbling with them until he takes the fabric in between both hands and pries them open. Kazuha gasps when exposed to a sudden chill on his inner thigh, jolting up to get a good look at what exactly Tomoharu had done as a result of his impatience and shamelessness. Kazuha’s face takes on a deep red shade of embarrassment.
Kazuha’s hand comes down to smack against the back of Tomoharu’s head before the other man can ruin his tights any further. Tomoharu ends up retaliating by creating more tears in the red fabric and Kazuha falls back onto the mattress with a groan. Kazuha strains his neck to watch as Tomoharu continues tearing through his tights with a sorrowful expression.
He gives up. He had been thinking of getting a new pair anyway -- he will let Tomoharu have his fun just this once.
With a cheeky grin, Tomoharu admires his handiwork -- having nearly ripped Kazuha’s tights to shreds, paying more attention to the places where Kazuha’s thighs are exposed in particular.
Tomoharu hoists Kazuha’s hips into a more comfortable position, lifting his legs and letting them wrap around his waist. He stops there, but his thumb kneads at and massages Kazuha’s thighs. He gives Kazuha a moment to reconsider.
Tomoharu takes in the sight of Kazuha lying underneath him, only for his eyes, “Is this your first time?”
Kazuha is unable to answer verbally, even a simple ‘yes’ is difficult for him to whisper when engulfed in heat and his own shame. He averts his eyes away from Tomoharu’s sharp gaze, and shyly nods.
Tomoharu’s hands slide up Kazuha’s thighs slowly, relishing in how even a light touch can make Kazuha melt. He tilts his head to the side, unable to hide the cocky grin that tugs at the corners of his lips. “Then you’re lucky it’s with me.”
Shocked at just how shameless Tomoharu can be, Kazuha resorts to hiding his embarrassment behind his arms.
“What do you want me to do to you?” Tomoharu’s voice comes out as a low whisper only for Kazuha to hear.
Kazuha hesitates. He wants this, he knows that. He wants Tomoharu. He wants to be selfish, and greedy, and unreasonable. Sprawled out across the mattress and thoroughly debauched before Tomoharu can even make a mess of him, Kazuha surrenders.
“Everything.” Kazuha confesses and it feels like another weight lifted from his shoulders. Tomoharu submits himself entirely to Kazuha’s every whim.
Tomoharu’s mouth latches onto Kazuha almost immediately and he hears his name roll off of Kazuha’s tongue in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard. Tomoharu busies himself with exploring every part of Kazuha’s body, learning everything there is about him. Kazuha guides him with a heavy grip in his hair and every hitch in his breath.
By the end of this, Tomoharu is determined to memorize everything Kazuha likes and everything he loves -- everything that makes Kazuha’s grip in his hair tighten and everything that makes his back arch with pleasure.
(He may not be aware of Kazuha’s favorite color, but at least he knows exactly what he has to do to make Kazuha scream his name.)
-
Tomoharu must have lost it. This miscalculated desperation is unlike him, this fear of the unknown with the way he grabs and holds on tight. The way his hair clings to cheeks flushed with vivid red down to his neck, clear eyes despite the thick veil of want that hangs heavy overhead means that this isn’t all just sex in his mind.
Kazuha knows this because he thinks that he must have lost it too. The aftertaste of bitter wine in his mouth grows even more disgusting when he tastes it on the tongue Tomoharu has shoved down his throat. He’s greedy and drunk, and everything reckless that makes up ‘Tomo.’
Kazuha knows that he wants this too, losing all of his inhibitions one by one as he comes undone underneath Tomoharu’s touch. He wants Tomoharu. He wants the feeling of Tomoharu’s hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, the feeling of Tomoharu’s lips on his, the feeling of Tomoharu’s teeth catching on his skin when he bites down a little too hard -- more than anything, he wants to feel Tomoharu fuck his heart into his throat. He’s never wanted something like this; never wanted anything hard enough that he feels as though his heart may burst if he’s not spoiled thoroughly with a love that stops halfway and spilt wine by the morning.
Tomo still treats him like he’s precious despite how roughly he handles him, large hands leaving dark bruises on delicate hips. He’s nothing more than a fragile and delicate treasure for him to claim at the end of Tomoharu’s world. Even though Kazuha is terrified that he’ll break into two underneath the weight of Tomo’s entire body, the thought of being precious and adored is all he’s ever wanted so he bears it.
He raises his hips to meet Tomo at every thrust, and he marks him with his nails the same way Tomo marks him with his mouth. Tomo sets a frantic rhythm and Kazuha closes his eyes and listens, he hears his heart beat loudly in his ears and feels Tomo’s heartbeat in his throat. He tastes blood on his lips.
“I love you.” This voice does not belong to him. Kazuha feels the weight of Tomoharu’s hand clutching his. Tears and sweat taste the same when mixed with wine and the smell of smolder and smoke. “I love you.” Tomoharu whispers, Kazuha’s name becomes lost on his lips as he repeats it over and over like a prayer. Tomoharu leans over onto Kazuha, stopping to press his forehead against Kazuha’s. Kazuha’s expression softens when their breaths intertwine and become as one.
Tomoharu tries to close the gap between their mouths, and for a moment, Kazuha considers closing his eyes and kissing Tomoharu back like he’s in love.
But he doesn’t. He turns away at the very last second, bringing his hands to tangle in Tomoharu’s hair instead, pulling and twisting at sandy blonde strands, pretending to be overtaken by want. He brings Tomoharu to his throat, feels his mouth there and exhales with a sweet, breathy moan.
Tomoharu’s hand travels up the underside of Kazuha’s thigh and he spoils Kazuha with desperate kisses on his neck instead. He is sure that Tomo must have lost it.
Kazuha thinks that he isn’t any better, fooling himself into believing that he loves him too.
This shouldn’t be anything more than just sex. A frigid breeze knocks the empty bottle of wine over the edge.
-
Kazuha wakes first, enveloped in Tomoharu’s arms. He feels Tomoharu’s breaths on the back of his neck, and the rise and fall of Tomoharu’s chest on his back. He tries to lean forward, but Tomoharu keeps him in place even in his sleep. Kazuha struggles, then relaxes back into the mattress. He lifts Tomoharu’s arm off of him, slowly as to not wake him, and pulls away.
Kazuha brings the blanket over Tomoharu and crawls towards his discarded clothing. Pulling it over himself, he wobbles to his feet and he feels an object slip from within the folds of his cloth. Before he can catch it in midair, it lands on the wooden floor with a heavy thud and rolls to his feet. He stumbles away from it once he realizes what it is. He hears Tomoharu begin to stir awake behind him and he lunges for the object to snatch it out of Tomoharu’s sight. Its teal glow blinds Kazuha when he brings it to his chest and is warm to the touch.
This is not how he imagined to earn the acknowledgement of the gods. This is where his will has coalesced into being, and this is where his freedom has been stripped away. A Vision has always been hailed as a gift from the gods -- yet Kazuha feels as though this is a cruel sentence for an even crueler fate. He feels no joy, no sense of pride, and no gratitude.
He feels sick.
“Kazuha?” Tomoharu calls out sleepily and Kazuha hurredly tucks his vision back into his pocket. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
“How are you feeling?” Tomoharu watches Kazuha walk past him. He huffs out a laugh.
Kazuha shoots Tomoharu an odd glance, but ignores him. Kazuha goes back for the rest of his clothing but Tomoharu stops him before he can slip into them.
“You might want to clean yourself up first.” Tomoharu suggests and Kazuha brings his knees together, feeling his face grow warm. He looks down at his thighs and grimaces at the sight of ruined red tights. “Sorry about the… sorry.” Tomoharu apologizes but all it does is make Kazuha feel worse. Kazuha sighs, doing his best to cover himself and preserve what little remains of his dignity.
“Thank you.” Kazuha mumbles, picking at Tomoharu’s leftovers after his trail of destruction. “I’ll run a bath. Will you be coming?”
“Did I say anything weird last night?” Tomoharu has never sounded so small, “Do… you remember anything from last night?”
It’s difficult to forget when Kazuha still feels Tomoharu’s heavy grip on his thighs, deep kisses into the hollow of his throat.
“I don’t remember.” Kazuha lies, unable to face Tomoharu’s truth, “I don’t remember if you said anything.” Unable to face the fact that Tomoharu loves him. He runs from it altogether.
“I see. That’s good.” Kazuha never expected Tomoharu to lie to him too. He supposes that he deserves this. Kazuha never wanted to hurt him to this extent. “You go ahead. I’ll wait until you’re finished.”
It’s too late to fix this. Kazuha moves on.
-
Kazuha's eyes flutter open gradually and he is met with Tomoharu’s lazy smile. When he finally feels the sunlight on his skin pouring through the leaves, Kazuha shrinks away back into the shade. Tomoharu peers up at him from the ground, arms leaning against the branch that Kazuha is currently perched on.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He told Tomoharu that he would be the one to keep watch for the night, and yet he finds himself stirring awake after a long nap. His thoughts are still shrouded in a drowsy veil of fog and he hears a ringing in his ears.
“Did you sleep well?” Tomoharu asks playfully, teasing him.
Kazuha huffs. He refuses to let Tomoharu get a rise out of him. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember falling asleep. I...”
“It’s fine. You needed the rest.” Tomoharu comforts him. Then he points at Kazuha’s chest, looking too amused for Kazuha’s liking. “You picked a terrible time to receive a vision, though. Especially when you’re napping, no less. But all things considered, it suits you.”
Vision?
Kazuha sits up, confused as to what Tomoharu could be referring to. Then he remembers when he shifts in his position and a heavy object falls closer onto his skin, emanating warmth.
Panic sets in first. Tomoharu found the Vision he had been hiding from him.
Immediately, Kazuha pats himself down and sees his palms covered in a teal glow. When he looks down at his chest, he sees his vision shining brighter than usual, bleeding through the fabric of his clothing.
“I suppose I do spend more time asleep than awake,” Kazuha plays along with Tomoharu’s assumption, taking his vision into his hands. He holds it out for Tomoharu, “Now we can be charged for the same crime.”
“This isn’t something to laugh about,” Tomoharu says while chuckling himself. Kazuha likes that about him. “It’ll be more dangerous from now on.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kazuha reassures Tomoharu. He wants to reach for him but he stops himself. His hand falls to his side, clutching his Vision. “We’ll be fine.”
Kazuha hopes that this does not become another lie. He struggles to believe in the validity of his own words.
-
(“Where did you learn to wield a sword?” Kazuha asks as he watches Tomoharu sharpen his blade.
“It was just how I was raised.” Tomoharu shrugs while he works, “I was taken in by a master. It made sense that she eventually became my teacher too. Everything I know, I learned from her.”
Somehow, that was not the answer Kazuha expected to hear. Whenever Tomoharu is involved, Kazuha expects a spectacle -- or at least an unbelievable story with incredible twists and turns. The simplicity behind Tomoharu’s swordsmanship leaves Kazuha stunned.
“She was an incredible swordsman.” Tomoharu smiles when he recalls the memory, “She would beat me with one hand tied behind her back. Maybe she could even stand against the Raiden Shogun if she challenged her to a duel.”
“Why would anyone challenge the Raiden Shogun to a duel?”
Tomoharu places his sword back in its sheath, “Do you know of the Musou no Hitotachi?”
“It can only be witnessed when divine punishment is administered. It is the pinnacle of the Raiden Shogun’s skill,” This is a story his father once told him, “A symbol of ultimate power. Or so they say,” Kazuha continues, reciting his father’s words. He remembers how this tale would leave him in awe when he was younger.
Without missing a beat, Tomoharu replies, “I could take it,”
“No,” Kazuha recoils in horror that Tomoharu would even suggest such a thing. “No, you could not.”
“I got struck by lightning and survived.” Tomoharu laughs at Kazuha’s distress. He must think he is so funny. Kazuha is entirely unamused. “What’s a little bit of divine punishment?”
“Are you comparing a natural phenomenon to a god? ” Kazuha struggles to make sense of Tomoharu’s words.
Tomoharu folds his arms across his chest and Azuki peeks out from underneath his haori, stirred awake from her nap by the sound of Tomoharu’s bright laughter.
“There must be one who can withstand it,” Tomoharu’s eyes take in the sight of Inazuma bathed in the sunset. He has always been able to see beauty where Kazuha could not. “There will always be those who dare to brave the lightning’s glow.”
“Don’t try to distract me with poetry.” Kazuha huffs, “Don’t tell me you’re actually serious about this.”
Tomoharu taps Azuki’s pink nose with the tip of his finger, “Who knows? A wanderer’s path is never certain.”)
-
Kazuha has never considered himself much of a warrior. He’d prefer sitting underneath a cherry blossom tree in full bloom, sinking into seasonal beauty while musing on the next verse of his poem. He would never choose to clash blades with a man who had come for Tomoharu’s Vision and wants him dead, drowning in the nauseous smell of blood while he thinks of his next move to avoid being cut in half.
His blade glances off the side of his enemy’s and he realizes that he has overextended -- the rhythm behind his swings broken and his feet are fumbling to catch up to the rest of his body. He is left totally defenseless and basically unarmed, wide open to be on the receiving end of a killing blow. When he sees his opponent swing downwards, Kazuha does not close his eyes, nor does he flinch away.
While Kazuha stumbles backwards, Tomoharu leaps in front of him. By the time Kazuha regains his balance, Tomoharu falls and his blood pours into the grass beneath the cherry blossom trees.
It starts as a simple steadying of his stance. He plants his feet firmly onto the ground, determined not to make another misstep again. Next, the swift repositioning of his sword, gripping onto the hilt with such intensity that he feels heat grow underneath his palms. Then comes the unmistakable feeling of anger igniting in his lungs, coursing through the rest of his body when he takes his next breath.
Kazuha springs forward, propelled by favored winds underneath his feet. He plans to down his opponent but that wouldn’t be enough. He changes the grip on his weapon mid flight.
This life before him is not worth the price of Tomoharu’s. This is the conclusion that Kazuha comes to in the split second before he drives his blade through flesh and bone. His surprise comes from the feeling of how easily his blade cuts, and not from how easily he is able to cut through another being. He forces a step forward, burying his sword even further into muscle that he hears and feels something crack and something tear. Only when his enemy’s blood pools at his feet and the blade in their hands drops to the floor does he retract his blade.
In a trance, Kazuha lifts his arm, prepared to sink his blade back into the fallen hunter again to make sure he did it right. But a timid meow brings him back to his senses.
Kazuha only hears his own shallow and ragged breaths. The sound of blood rolling off the edge of his blade splattering onto the dirt haunts him. There was no reason not to choose a non-fatal swing of his blade, a simple cut that would leave his opponent unable to fight.
He would have never considered himself much of a killer, either.
Horrified, Kazuha scrambles back to Tomoharu.
-
“It hurts.” Tomoharu announces blankly.
Kazuha flicks Tomoharu’s forehead.
“Of course it does. What did you expect?” Kazuha retorts, doing his best to keep Tomoharu still while he finishes tending to Tomoharu’s wound. The wound from protecting me , Kazuha thinks, hands trembling as he cleans away the blood to reveal the full extent of the injury. He sighs when he sees that the gash in Tomoharu’s side is much less severe than it initially appeared, drenched in blood and padded with layers of his clothing.
“Can you--” Kazuha’s tone comes out sharper than he means to when Tomoharu winces underneath him. He breathes in and slows down, ridding himself of his guilt and frustration. He refuses to direct the anger he feels at himself towards Tomoharu, who does not deserve it. “Can you please stop moving?”
Kazuha stares down at his hands. “You can lean on me or grab onto me if it hurts.”
With his permission, Tomoharu’s forehead falls against his shoulder and he holds onto Kazuha’s sleeve. Kazuha feels Tomoharu nod against him and he works as quickly as possible, closing the wound and stretching bandages over Tomoharu’s skin. He tugs, lightly, to make sure it holds. Tomoharu’s hand presses into the small of his back, ushering him closer. Kazuha rests there, leaning his head against Tomoharu’s. Kazuha gives him whatever he needs, even if it means giving all of himself away.
“Ugh, I’ll never get used to that feeling.” Tomoharu groans in discomfort, nuzzling into Kazuha’s chest.
Kazuha glances over Tomoharu’s body and sees multiple scars of varying sizes. He arches a brow, “Even after all of these?” He taps on several jagged scars, counting five just on Tomoharu’s right arm.
Tomoharu rolls his eyes, shrinking away to cover his chest with fake bashfulness. Kazuha finds more scars on Tomoharu’s other arm. He begins to lose count when his eyes move to Tomoharu’s chest.
Tomoharu sticks his tongue out at Kazuha, “I was talking about how you handle them. So rough!”
“But so effective,” Kazuha quips and he hears Tomoharu huff out an exasperated sigh.
Gently nudging Tomoharu’s arms away from his chest, Kazuha examines Tomoharu’s scars further. Catching on to what Kazuha has in mind, Tomoharu sits up and guides Kazuha’s hand onto his skin. Kazuha traces every gruesome looking scar with care. Most of them were gained before their meeting, Kazuha judges based on the size and faded color, and his heart aches when he thinks of what could have been if Tomoharu had not been lucky enough to survive all of these battles.
Kazuha brushes over an x-shaped scar over the heart that Tomoharu once offered to him. He wonders why he did not accept it.
“It’s okay. Most of these weren’t a big deal at all.” Tomoharu reads Kazuha like the poetry he writes. Kazuha looks back to Tomoharu and doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He trails over the area of Tomoharu’s most recent injury, coming to the realization that he is the reason Tomoharu gained another scar.
“That’s not…” Kazuha bites down on his tongue. All he has ever done is put Tomoharu in danger.
“I’m sorry,” Tomoharu mumbles into Kazuha’s shirt, as if knowing what Kazuha will say next. “You shouldn’t have to get your hands dirty for me.”
“I did what I had to.” Kazuha combs through Tomoharu’s hair softly, grimacing when he pictures the memory of the Tenryou lackey lying lifeless on the grass. “I should be the one apologizing,” He had made Tomoharu carry such a heavy responsibility for all this time. “I don’t want you to shoulder this burden alone. You got hurt because of me.” Kazuha looks at the bloody bandages around Tomoharu’s waist, “This happened because of me.”
“None of this is your fault.” Tomoharu tilts his head upwards to look Kazuha in the eye as he speaks. “Besides, a world without you in it? I don’t think I’d be able to live in something like that.” Though he smiles, Kazuha finds no reassurance in Tomoharu’s actions and words. He feels suffocated by this fondness and is terrified by Tomoharu’s willingness to toss his own life away for his sake. “I want to protect you and keep you safe. I’ll do anything for that. Getting hurt is nothing. I’ll jump in front of a sword or arrow or whatever if it means I can do that.”
Kazuha hates how casually Tomoharu throws himself into danger. Kazuha is no longer able to control the flood of his own emotions, tearing down every wall he has put in place for his own protection.
“Treasure yourself more,” Kazuha suddenly crumbles underneath the weight of Tomoharu’s love. Everything he has built to keep himself from reciprocating happiness breaks and is reduced to ash. Cupping Tomoharu’s face in his palms, Kazuha treats him like something fragile, something precious.
Tomoharu avoids Kazuha’s tearful gaze.
“I’ll try.” Tomoharu caresses the hands Kazuha holds him with. “I’ll try. I promise.”
-
That night, Kazuha climbs into Tomoharu’s arms. He presses himself against Tomoharu’s chest, against his heart. Without a word, Tomoharu holds him closely and allows Kazuha a place to stay beside him. Tomoharu runs his fingers through Kazuha’s hair, calming him but still urging him to let it all out -- because he has seen the way Kazuha’s bottom lip trembles at the sound of lightning striking at his feet, and the red rings that stain the corners of Kazuha’s eyes.
Tomoharu’s thumb brushes against Kazuha’s lashes and Kazuha blinks away his tears. This is too much for Kazuha to handle -- he knows this but Tomoharu does not.
All Kazuha knows is to run, discard all responsibility and drift off somewhere where no one can reach him. Yet here he stays, willingly caught in between Tomoharu’s arms and his heartbeat.
Tomoharu kisses him softly and with love and Kazuha does not kiss him back.
It adds another lie to an endless list of things that Kazuha pretends are not real by morning. Each one becomes more difficult to conceal. Kazuha buries himself into Tomoharu’s chest, finds his solace only when in Tomoharu’s arms.
He wishes he had kissed him back.
-
“Don’t say ‘farewell,’ that means we’ll never see each other again.” Despite the weight of his words, Tomoharu is preoccupied with smushing his lips into Azuki’s soft fur, nuzzling his nose against hers with a content smile. Azuki, however, yowls and tries to push Tomoharu away with her paws. Pouting when Azuki shoves him off and wiggles out of his grasp, he dusts off his hands and turns back to Kazuha, who looks entirely unamused. “More accurately, this is just a temporary ‘bye-bye moment.’”
This is absolutely not just a temporary bye-bye moment. Though after knowing him for so long, Kazuha is unsurprised by how nonchalant he is about the matter.
“Tomo, you’re a wanted criminal. Your offenses include several counts of assault and bearing a Vision,” Kazuha deadpans, crossing his arms. “This is a serious matter.”
Although he has always admired Tomoharu’s steadfast and headstrong nature, if only those two descriptions could be exchanged for ‘logical and intelligent’ every so often.
Kazuha’s frown continues to worsen, “This is not a temporary ‘bye-bye moment’. This may very well be the last time we will meet in a long time,”
“A wanderer’s path is never certain.” Tomoharu laughs, beckoning for Azuki to waddle back into his open arms while she grooms herself and ignores him. “Maybe we’ll find each other again on the road. It could be tomorrow, a month, a few years -- or even at the end of our lives.”
“You are always so hopeful.” Kazuha interjects, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It baffles me how you’re able to stay positive all the time, even when your life is on the line.”
Tomoharu glances up to meet a grim scowl smeared indelicately across Kazuha’s face. So he does what he does best -- he puts on a smile that can bear the burden meant for two on his own, and laughs away the gloom and doom that Kazuha brings on a deceptively maple-sweet breeze.
“I mean it. I can picture it too.” Tomoharu takes in a deep breath, a beautiful scene unraveling right before his eyes. He takes this time as a chance to convince Kazuha to share in his ideal future, “We run into each other again while setting up camp in the forest,” He starts in a dreamy tone, and Kazuha clicks his tongue.
“We decide to settle down together in a quiet village far off from the city. Then we open up a cozy restaurant, and our little Azuki here can be our mascot. We can grow old together, all old and wrinkly, with aching backs and brittle bones.”
“As if!” Kazuha scoffs, unable to find what Tomoharu sees as so appealing about growing old. Tomo huffs out the breath he had been holding in. “We both aren’t the type to ‘settle down.’ You love your adventures and unpredictability too much to give them up for anyone or anything. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten yourself killed already.”
Tomo continues to laugh at himself. The disappointed expression on Tomoharu’s face tugs at Kazuha’s heart.
“You’re right.” Tomoharu reaches into his pocket and pulls out a coin between his fingers. “One last time then. Heads; I go east and you go west. Tails; we switch it up.” And then, he flicks the coin upwards -- watching it spiral through the air and land gracefully on the back of his hand. “Heads.” He announces, tucking the coin back into his pocket.
Kazuha nods, ready to say farewell. It’s better this way, he thinks, it would be safer for the both of them. From the start of their journey, Kazuha knew that goodbye would be inevitable, there would come a time where their paths would diverge. He had been prepared for this from the start.
“I guess this is it.” Tomo purses his lips, hesitating before he says goodbye. “Well, even if we don’t grow old together, I hope that you’ll at least have the chance to be on your deathbed all wrinkly.”
Kazuha teases him, “You just want to see me with wrinkles on my face.”
“I think you’d still be pretty.”
“You always say the strangest things.” Kazuha sighs. A part of him yearns to bite down on his tongue to keep him from saying goodbye. But if he does not leave, he would only be another troublesome burden on Tomoharu’s shoulders. “So this is it. Until we meet again, Tomo.”
If he does not leave, Tomoharu will have to protect him and not himself. Kazuha justifies this decision as something done for Tomoharu’s sake.
It masks Kazuha’s own true selfish nature. If he does not leave, he will only fall in love again even harder.
Tomoharu dips his head and says nothing. Kazuha walks away first.
He thinks of turning back, wondering what he would see then. Would Tomoharu be watching him leave, or would he already be gone?
-
For the first time in his life, Kazuha realizes that he is a lonely person.
He also realizes that these past two years of aimless wandering was his attempt at running from his own loneliness. He never thought it would ever have the chance to catch up to him. Now that it has sunk its claws into Kazuha, he no longer knows how to run -- if he can still run from it in this state.
Kazuha doesn’t mind being alone. He has been alone for most of his life.
But he doesn’t like being lonely. With Tomoharu gone, he has no one left.
Nightfall is eerily quiet with no one around. The wind whistling through leaves lacks comfort, and the uneven trickle of water down a nearby stream lacks warmth. Kazuha shivers when a breeze passes by, facing the harsh reintroduction to the concept of true loneliness.
Though exhausted, Kazuha is unable to sleep. He has had sleepless nights before, but usually he would eventually be accompanied by Azuki nuzzling against him when it’s too cold to sleep alone, but not quite cold enough to tolerate the sheer amount of heat Tomoharu’s body gives off. Kazuha sinks into his scarf to shield himself from the chill.
Kazuha hopes that Tomoharu is thinking of him too. Selfishly, Kazuha hopes that Tomoharu might even miss him.
Kazuha closes his eyes. Tomorrow, he will take a chance in the city to escape from this crushing loneliness, if even for a moment.
-
( Her presence is overwhelming, suffocating him underneath the weight of her divinity. She raises her head high, an arm outstretched to signal the start of the duel. Even the air around her bends to her will, the clouds gather to revere their god. There is no cruelty found in her gaze despite the brutality of her decree, only the pursuit of an unchanging and undisturbed eternity.
The woman donning a mask looks back to her god, then down to the mortal standing before them. She draws her sword though she already knows what will come of this duel. She tightens her grip on the hilt of her blade and calls down a storm, a warning to all those who dare challenge the Shogun’s unshakeable will next and a final chance for her opponent to back down and value the life he has been given.
Tomoharu lingers on his decision before he unsheathes his blade. The wound he hides underneath his clothing burns more than just his flesh, reminding him that he did not come prepared to claim victory against divinity.
Perhaps he never wanted to leave Tenshukaku victorious at all. Dying in a blaze of glory before the pinnacle of Inazuma though -- that may be something worth offering his life up for.
But he is left unsatisfied with this conclusion to the final act of his life.
Tomoharu charges into the heart of Inazuma -- slipping between thunder’s unforgiving grasp to clash with the Raiden Shogun’s beloved tengu general. Electricity begins to numb his fingers, then his heart, gathering at his blade just to burst into a myriad of wild amethyst streaks. A bolt of lightning cleaves the sky in two.
Whether he wins orloses -- no outcome will bring Kazuha back to his half of the sky.)
-
“Thank you for everything. I’ll be going.” Kazuha bows his head deeply towards Taroumaru, who barks happily in response. Komore Teahouse is as welcoming as ever, a perfect quick stop for last minute supplies before he leaves Inazuma City for an extended period of time. “I wish I could have stayed lon--”
“Kazuha! Is Kazuha there?”
Someone shouts from outside and Kazuha can hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Suddenly, the door to the teahouse swings open and Kazuha sees a familiar face. He recognizes the horns on the headband first, then the mess of bright blonde hair.
Thoma. Kazuha manages to remember his name, taken aback by Thoma’s abrupt entrance.
“You have to go,” Thoma pants, hands dropping onto his knees while he catches his breath. “You have to go to Tenshukaku. He-- Tomo, he--” Thoma sputters. From the look on his face, Kazuha prepares himself to receive bad news. “He challenged the Vision hunters to a duel before the throne!”
What he hears, though, is nothing he could have prepared himself for. The promise Tomoharu had made to him is forgotten entirely.
“Kazuha, you have to stop him! He’ll die!” Thoma points at the door in a panic, “Go!” He yells and Kazuha’s feet start to sprint towards the exit before the rest of his body can catch up. Kazuha pushes past Thoma and barrels out the door, scrambling through the busy streets of Inazuma City towards Tenshukaku. His feet feel heavy despite the wind he has called upon to push them forward, his mind is cluttered with a mess of his own thoughts.
By the time he reaches Tenshukaku, the duel is already over.
Kazuha screams Tomoharu’s name as he falls to his knees. He watches the Raiden Shogun draw her sword and strike him down, a brilliant flash of light burns the memory of divine punishment into Kazuha’s mind. He shields his eyes from the glow of the Musou no Hitotachi and by the time Kazuha opens them again, fragments of Tomoharu’s shattered blade hit the ground and bury themselves into the wooden floor.
Kazuha snatches Tomoharu’s dying Vision as it flies through the air. He takes one last look at the empty gaze in the Raiden Shogun’s eyes, the downcast expression on her general’s face, and the sight of Tomoharu’s body falling to the ground.
The Vision in his hand burns through his flesh but Kazuha holds fast to it as he leaps away from the Tenshukaku, desperately clinging onto what little he has left. He will not let any more of him be taken away.
He replays the image in his mind over and over -- haunted by two unfamiliar faces.
But Tomoharu--
In his last moments, what expression was on his face?
-
Kazuha does not know how long he has been running. He has long lost the feeling in his legs, but he keeps going -- his legs are still moving. His lungs feel as though they’re about to burst, every part of his body begs him to stop. He has forgotten how to control his Vision by now, fleeing through Narukami Island without the aid of a tailwind at his back ever since he fled Inazuma City.
Kazuha loses his footing when a branch snaps unexpectedly under his feet. He falls too quickly and too suddenly for him to conjure a gust of wind to soften his landing, hurtling through leaves and twigs before he skids to a halt on the forest floors. Groaning in pain, Kazuha pushes himself off of the dirt to scan his surroundings.
Tomoharu’s Vision rolls off to the side. As Kazuha reaches for it, a flash of sharp heat stabbing into his palm forces him to stop and clutch his hand to ease the excruciating ache. Only then does he notice the burns on his hand and the blood covering the golden decor on Tomoharu’s empty vision. He cries out as his body remembers how to feel pain, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he waits for it to become bearable.
It never does.
Kazuha covers it with what he can and crawls towards Tomoharu’s Vision. Holding it in his palms and watching it fade from violet to a soulless grey -- Kazuha screams until his voice scrapes his throat raw. He hugs Tomoharu’s heart instead of his body in his hands until it stops beating because Tomoharu could not even get the chance to die in his arms.
He has no body to hold. No body to bury.
Kazuha takes a deep breath. This won’t end if all he does is run.
He will have to go back. He has to take Tomoharu back from them.
-
He finds the body tossed over the side of the main entrance to Tenshukaku. He finds the body drenched in blood and covered with the tattered remains of clothing mended over and over by loving hands.
He finds Tomoharu’s body on its side, tossed like trash over the side of the main entrance.
Kazuha stumbles towards him, his feet grow heavier with every step he takes as if his body itself is telling him no, don’t go any closer because he knows that it will do nothing but add to the hurt. It will burn, it will sting, and it will leave him even more broken than he already is. He drags himself towards Tomoharu despite it all, falling to his knees by Tomoharu’s body.
Kazuha reaches for him though he’s unable to keep his arms from trembling, exhaling shaky breaths of air as he places his hands on Tomoharu’s side. He rolls him onto his back and he wails from a place so deep in his soul that his chest turns hollow and his throat aches and his tongue grows numb.
Tomoharu’s body turns easily, his head lolls to the side and Kazuha meets violet eyes that have lost their brilliance, empty and cold, burning holes into Kazuha’s fraying mind. Kazuha chokes, his hands fly to cover his mouth and he swallows nausea’s unbearable sour sting.
He closes Tomoharu’s eyes for him. He breathes. He pulls Tomoharu up and brings his arm to rest around his shoulder. Kazuha will drag him out of this cursed city if he has to, using all his strength to heave Tomoharu’s body to its feet but he fails. He has to leave. He has to keep moving. He tries again desperately, hooking his arms underneath Tomoharu’s to gain leverage.
One step forward and an arrow tears through the air and whizzes past his face. He watches it plunge into the grass by his feet and explode in a burst of purple and black sparks. The electricity that pulses around it is devastating enough to leave only a patch of burnt grass and ash where it landed. Kazuha snaps his head around to look at his attacker and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, the cold that creeps inwards from the tips of his fingers turns his grip on Tomoharu unsteady.
A figure peers down at him by the main entrance. The red tengu mask on the side of her head is a telltale sign for Kazuha on who it is, and what he is up against. He loses all feeling in his legs and sinks back onto the ground. Kujou Sara stares at him from above, weapon drawn with a second arrow already nocked. Kazuha flinches when a flash of electro energy gathered at the tip of her arrow blinds him momentarily. Then it dissipates as quickly as it appeared, all that’s left in her hands are gold flecks of fading energy. She shouts something over her shoulder that Kazuha is unable to catch as the sound of his heartbeat in his ears drowns out everything else. Her expression softens, but the intensity behind her gaze does not disappear with the change.
She leaps down onto the courtyard and Kazuha fumbles for the hilt of his sword. Kazuha leaps back onto his feet, and shields Tomoharu with his body when Sara begins to walk towards them. Sara keeps her eyes focused on the sword at Kazuha’s side, eyes narrowing as she watches Kazuha prepare to draw his weapon.
Still inexperienced —when Kazuha misjudges the distance from his sword to his hand. But above all, determined and kind —when Sara sees the way his fingers tremble, then steady themselves around the hilt.
In a flash, Kazuha draws. The rage that backs his movement would terrify him if it were not for Tomoharu’s killer being so bold as to show her face as he tries to carry Tomoharu’s corpse away from where everything was taken from him. Kazuha has never felt this sort of venomous rage before, not even when he lost his family and his future -- not even when he was born into a world that has always rejected him.
No longer merely the silly Kaedehara heir, too stupid to do anything right.
He has never wanted anyone dead like this. Never like this, tipped over the edge of bitter resentment and the pain of a broken heart.
He draws his sword with a gust of anemo energy behind his swing as she reaches him, the ache in his bones is a mixture of his agony and his grief. Even if this blow kills her, he knows that it would do nothing for the emptiness that eats away at his entire being. But if this blow kills her, that would rid the world of one of Tomoharu’s murderers -- and that would be enough.
Sara catches his sword in her hand and locks it in place effortlessly. Kazuha watches blood run down her palm and trickle off his blade, dumbfounded at her raw strength. She guides it away from her face and lets go.
“Let me help you,” She does not dare to look Kazuha in the eyes as she speaks. Instead, her gaze rests on Tomoharu and she motions towards him. She wears a sorrowful expression, unbefitting of her usual stern appearance. She tears a piece of cloth from her sleeve and wraps it around the open wound on her palm. She extends her injured palm towards Kazuha, offering a truce and offering again, “Let me help you. Please,”
“You are the reason he’s dead,” Kazuha spats, red eyes burning with fury. “You have no right--”
“He is twice your size and still more than ours combined,” Sara explains calmly, unfaltering when facing Kazuha’s hatred head on. “You will need help. The strong glow of your Vision will only sabotage your efforts further by attracting patrolling guards. You don’t have the time to waste, so let me help you carry him.”
Without waiting for his answer, Sara pushes past Kazuha and bends over to sling Tomoharu’s arm around her shoulder. Horrified, Kazuha prepares to raise his sword against her again but it stops right before it reaches her throat. Sara’s eyes are trained on the glimmer of moonlight reflecting off the metal that Kazuha is unable to even hold still hovering by her neck. She closes her eyes.
“I know you are angry and hurting.” She secures Tomoharu in her grasp and stands. “But I know that all you want is to retrieve his body, not exact revenge. All I want is to offer you my aid in doing so. We can carry him together,”
“Why are you doing this? You’d be helping a wanted criminal,” When his rage subsides, grief is all that is left to fill the void in between. Kazuha threatens to slice Sara’s throat open with his sword.
“I would be helping a man who has just lost a dear friend.” Sara shakes her head, “Wanting to give him a proper burial is not a crime. I want that for him as well,”
Kazuha does not move.
“If I wanted you dead, I could have killed you twice over while you were gawking at me with your mouth wide open in the courtyard,” Sara finally snaps, and Kazuha lowers his sword. Sara huffs a sigh of exasperation and relief.
Kazuha sheaths his sword. Sara offers him Tomoharu’s other arm.
The two of them drag a dead man across Tenshukaku accompanied by the surveillance of the night sky. The moon hangs heavy overhead, as if mourning Tomoharu too. Kazuha feels unsettled under the watchful eye of the stars above.
-
“This is as far as I will go.” Sara turns to Kazuha as they reach the edge of Inazuma City. “His use of his Vision was beautiful. He fought brilliantly.”
“Stop,” Kazuha pleads, hating the way his voice breaks and stretches out in a whisper. The Vision she speaks of rests cold against his skin, a reminder that he is gone. “Please don’t say anything more,”
Sara acknowledges his request and remains silent as they near the outskirts, scenery fading into a secluded forest by the open sea.
“Thank you for helping me,” Kazuha starts to say but tenses when an arrow materializes in Sara’s injured hand, and he is not quick enough to manage the entire weight of Tomoharu’s body shoved onto him as Sara pulls away. A whirlwind begins to manifest underneath the soles of his feet, but it turns into nothing more than a passing breeze when Sara plunges the arrow into the side of her own thigh, crumbling to her knees as her face twists in pain. Her makeshift bandages are soaked red as blood dribbles down the side of her thigh.
“I’ll tell them that you had allies lying in wait, and that it was too dangerous to chase after you when we are outnumbered.” She inhales sharply, gritting her teeth through the pain of an arrowhead lodged deep into her flesh. She finally faces Kazuha, golden eyes filled with uncertainty and words left unspoken, “Go, and never come back. Not even for your revenge.” Then she dips her head, and Kazuha understands. Sara reaches for the sheathed sword at her side, and Kazuha recognizes the pattern carved into its side. She unties the pouch fastened to her hip, opening it for Kazuha to see that it contains fragments of a broken sword. “I’ve seen what you can do. Run far, little samurai, somewhere where even the lightning can not catch you.”
Kazuha bids her farewell with only a nod of his head, hesitantly taking a blade with its hilt singed thoroughly by lightning from her hands and the pouch that holds the rest of Tomoharu’s sword. He leaps into the air with Tomoharu in his arms, disappearing into the outskirts of the city. Sara stays behind, watching him go. The soft glow of his Vision fades into the horizon.
They will both have done enough by morning.
-
Kazuha rests by the riverside by the time the sun shines fully overhead. He crawls towards the running water, cleaning blood off his face and off of his hands. He leans over the surface of the water, made to face his reflection’s unruly hair and tired eyes. He looks over at Tomoharu laying on his back, set gently on the grass -- and if Kazuha did not watch him die with his own eyes, he could have believed that Tomoharu was only sleeping, perhaps even dreaming.
But he’s not. He’s gone. He’s dead.
And it’s all Kazuha’s fault.
Kazuha plunges his hands in the water to rid them of the feeling of death clinging to his palms. He scrubs them raw with erratic motions, ignoring the burns on his right hand and the cuts on his left. He claws at his skin as if that will rid him of the guilt and disgust. He would gladly drown himself in this river if it meant that the thousands of knives in his heart would disappear and he would not have to live with the knowledge that he killed Tomoharu any longer. He wouldn’t mind dying today if that means he could forget what love was and how love feels, especially when it is violently ripped away.
Kazuha leans forward and something falls out from his clothing. It lands in the water and Kazuha blinks, bringing his blurry vision back into focus to see what it is. The current begins to carry it away but Kazuha remembers that it is all he has left of Tomoharu; the empty Vision glimmers in the sunlight and Kazuha scrambles after it before he loses everything a second time. His legs don’t follow his arms, and he clumsily chases it downstream. He falls into the water, clutching the empty Vision close to his chest.
He sits up and wades out of the water. The cold surface of the Vision soothes his wounds.
Kazuha raises the lifeless shell to his lips. He has never felt so helpless in his life.
Mindlessly, he brings it to his ear, waiting to hear a lingering heartbeat. He wants to hear it beat.
He wishes it still bears a heartbeat, if only it could still hold his heartbeat.
Kazuha kisses the Vision with every unspoken ‘I love you,’ and forgets how to breathe. He clutches his chest in pain, gasping for air as he drops the Vision into his lap. He claws at his throat, panic sets in and rids him of all coherent thought.
He can’t do anything at all.
He can’t save his family. He can’t save Tomoharu. He can’t save himself. He can’t save anyone.
He can’t. He can’t .
Breathe. Go on. Keep walking. Move on.
Kazuha screams and he weeps, groveling pathetically on the riverbed over a broken heart. And then he is quiet, choking back the sobs that still trickle out from the corners of his lips. He steadies himself and wipes his tears away from his face.
He forces himself to stand, tucking the empty Vision shell back into his pocket.
Every second is precious. He has a body to bury.
-
(Kazuha starts by prodding into the soil with his sword. The soil underneath is soft and damp from the earlier rainfall, as if the skies readied the earth to bid farewell to Tomoharu alongside him. He looks towards the cloudy skies, the sun is obscured by towering trees and their leaves that hang like curtains from branches. He continues breaking apart the soil hidden away in the shade.
Tomoharu would have hated this place. The tall trees filter out any trace of sunlight and the winds barely make it through the thick shrubbery and winding paths. The air is also terribly humid and it makes the clothing on Kazuha’s back stick to his skin -- this is everything that Tomoharu hated about resting in a forest. Though this place is far from ideal, Kazuha has nowhere else to run. He stabs his blade over and over again into the ground underneath but his actions eventually slow to a stop when the earth does not give away.
He tosses his sword to the side, swallowing his tears. Kazuha lets himself fall hopelessly onto the ground; where he once would have loved the feeling of fresh dew and grass against his skin, here he only feels disgust. He ties up his sleeves, presses his hands into the loosened soil, and begins to dig.)
-
Kazuha covers Tomoharu’s face first. He sweeps the soil into Tomoharu’s hair, covering his eyes with a layer of dirt to make the rest of it easier. Kazuha forces down the nausea and the anguish, and smooths down the grave he built on his own. He takes the remains of Tomoharu’s sword and steadies it upright at the foot of the grave with a dark grimace. He looks down at his hands, caked with dirt and dried blood, stained with the guilt of burying a man who died because of him.
If he were better, Tomoharu may still be alive. If he had made it to Tenshukaku faster, he could have convinced Tomoharu to live. If he had been enough of a reason for Tomoharu to keep living, he would not have felt as though he needed to die to prove his own worth. If he had smiled a little more and laughed a little longer at Tomoharu’s jokes, if he had held him just a little closer and loved him a little harder, would he still be here?
If only Kazuha had been able to recognize the moment he had lost him.
Kazuha can hear Tomoharu’s laughter if he could have gotten the chance to see his final resting place. It is an ugly and misshapen grave in what must be the most inconvenient location in all of Inazuma. It is one Kazuha dug himself.
Kazuha’s hands drop limp into his lap as he becomes frighteningly aware of everything in the world. The sigh in the breeze whistling past as if mocking him, the silence that follows after the wind settles, drowning him in his own thoughts. His stomach travels into his lungs, depriving him of air. Then it shoves his heart into his throat and he keels over, sputtering and coughing while his own body rejects him and turns inside out.
Kazuha rips himself away from the sight of Tomoharu’s broken grave and stumbles towards the river, choking on his own spit and clawing at his chest to gain any form of relief. He tastes blood on his tongue with every gasp for air, every breath he takes feels like a hot knife being raked across his throat. He cries -- out of pity for himself and not for help -- because he knows that there is no one left in the world who would listen, and who would hold him.
He cries himself to sleep, clutching a dead man’s remains to his heart.
-
(Thoma does not expect to find a dead body by the river when he chases after the rumor of an intruder whispered by the guards stationed at Tenshukaku. He eyes the broken sword standing upright underneath a tree, the uneven and disturbed mound of dirt, and he lowers his head. Putting together the pieces is not difficult. Thoma recognizes the man he finds and what that man has built.
Thoma nudges Kazuha with his foot. When Kazuha does not react, Thoma drops to his knees and rolls Kazuha onto his back. He squeezes Kazuha’s cheeks, patting them to see if Kazuha will wake. He checks for a pulse, then slaps Kazuha across the face.
Kazuha remains unresponsive. But he is alive, and Thoma can not stand to lose another friend.
He drags Kazuha further onto the shore with little effort. Thoma strips Kazuha of his clothing stained beyond recognition with blood and tears and tosses them down the river. Thoma starts to place the empty Vision in his own pockets but then he stops, and tucks it back into Kazuha’s hands. He folds Kazuha’s fingers over the glass surface. Wrapping Kazuha carefully with what he can, he hooks his arms under Kazuha and lifts him.
Thoma settles on taking the long, scenic route back to the Kamisato estate. It will give him enough time to think of how he will explain all this to Ayaka, come up with a plan to treat all of Kazuha’s wounds and the oncoming fever, but more importantly, it will keep Kazuha safe.)
-
“Such horrible wounds… And those burns on his hand! What do you think could have done that to him?”
“I don’t know… Hey! Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything, I found him like that. I swear!”
Though Kazuha hears voices, he fails to understand the meaning of those words. He stares blankly at the extravagant dishes prepared for him on the table before him. His wounds were tended to carefully by Thoma but he has no recollection of the events before he awoke in the Kamisato estate. Ayaka picked the dirt from Kazuha’s nails once Thoma treated his injuries and polished Tomoharu’s Vision until it shined.
The door slides open and Ayaka steps into the room first while Thoma watches by the entrance. Ayaka kneels beside Kazuha, holding out her hand for Kazuha to take. Though Kazuha does not react, Ayaka rests her hand gently on Kazuha’s to comfort him. She inspects the bandages wrapping his wounds and underneath Kazuha’s nails. She sighs, glad to see that they have been cleaned thoroughly after.
“What happened at Tenshukaku?” Ayaka murmurs, tracing Kazuha’s palm. She does her best to speak, but her voice trembles. “I heard what happened from Thoma. What did you see? Is Tomoharu...”
Kazuha bites back tears. Ayaka waits patiently for Kazuha’s heart to piece itself together, if even for a fleeting moment.
“If you do not wish to talk, that is fine.” Ayaka lowers her head to meet Kazuha’s sullen gaze. Kazuha sees her worried expression. “But at least eat.”
Kazuha shakes his head and Ayaka turns back to Thoma for help. When even Thoma fails to find an answer, Ayaka releases Kazuha from her tender grasp. She smooths down the creases in her kimono and folds her hands elegantly in her lap.
“Kazuha?”
Kazuha’s bottom lip quivers. Thoma starts to turn away when Kazuha opens his mouth, but steps out of the room instead. Ayaka steadies herself.
“I buried him.” Kazuha whispers and falls apart. He weeps with no tears.
Ayaka covers her mouth in horror, and accompanies Kazuha through the night. Thoma keeps watch by the door, mourning silently.
-
(“It should be Yashiori Island.” Thoma taps his chin. “But it’s dangerous there, are you sure you want to go?”
“That’s where the resistance is, isn’t it?” Kazuha unravels the bandages around his arms and stretches his fingers. “I’ll go.”
“Are you sure?” Ayaka furrows her brows, growing increasingly troubled from the moment Kazuha had announced his plan to leave.
“I will only cause trouble if I stay. Thank you for allowing me a place to rest, but…” Kazuha trails off when he’s bombarded with concerned looks from both Thoma and Ayaka. Not to mention the hasty note Ayato left him asking if he needed anything in particular. Kazuha feels like a burden that the Kamisato family does not need to shoulder. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I am grateful for everything, truly.”
“Don’t mention it. We’re happy to help,” Thoma chirps, ruffling through Kazuha’s hair and patting him on the head hard enough to make Kazuha grow dizzy. “You’re family too.”
“I agree with everything Thoma said.” Ayaka offers Kazuha a kind and loving smile, “If my brother were here too, he’d surely say the same. If you are ever in need, we will be more than happy to lend a hand. You and Tomoharu will always be an important part of the Kamisato clan.”
Kazuha lowers his head. A bittersweet feeling carves into his chest, but he is ultimately overjoyed that Tomoharu is still welcome somewhere he can call home. Though on his own on this path with nothing but the wind at his back and his sword by his side, the presence of Tomoharu’s Vision reminds him that he is not truly alone. He’d never have to be alone -- Ayaka and Thoma send him off with their own version of familial love learned over the years.
He bids them farewell and departs for Yashiori Island.)
-
“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here,” Gorou calls out from behind, waving both hands at Kazuha cheerfully. How Gorou keeps his sunny disposition and energy from their time of meeting to a lazy night like this, Kazuha has thought of many possible answers to this question but is unable to settle on any of them as the truth. Kazuha greets him with a nod of his head and turns back to the scarf and thread in his hands. Gorou invites himself to sit next to Kazuha on the grass, “And it’s getting late. You should come back and get some rest.”
“I’m fine. Tonight’s sky is particularly beautiful. It would be a shame not to spend some time taking in the view while thinking of the last line of my haiku,” Kazuha takes in a deep breath, “I’ll never grow tired of the moonlight that bleeds through the clouds on nights like these. I suggest that you take it all in too, the seabreeze carries an array of lovely aromas.” And exhales, a content smile on his face.
“Always going on about your haikus… you should recite one to me some time.” Gorou sniffs the air, and his ears fall flat against the sides of his head. He coughs, pinching his nose, “Smells like the leftovers of Momoe’s bad cooking to me.”
“I suppose there is that too,” Kazuha chuckles, smoothing down the creases in his tattered scarf. His fingers run over old stitches and he wonders where the other scarf he had repaired so many times in his life could have wandered off to. He examines the red and black pattern on the fabric and sees that he has not made any progress on mending it at all.
“You’ve been at that for a while. I saw you working on it this morning too,” Gorou notes, leaning over to look at the object in Kazuha’s hands. “Momoe offered to clean it up for you, right? She’s a terrible cook but her sewing skills are second to none.”
“I don’t mind doing it myself.” Kazuha pierces through the cloth with the needle, guiding it through with deft fingers. He has always been skilled in fixing broken things. “I’m grateful for her offer but I don’t wish to trouble her with this.” The thread snaps without warning and Kazuha’s hands fall into his lap in frustration. He hears Gorou’s tail swish playfully across the grass.
Kazuha begins to feed the thread back through the needle but Gorou’s hand comes to rest on his to urge him to stop. Gorou plucks the needle out from Kazuha’s fingers and places it gently onto the scarf in Kazuha’s lap.
“It’s not my place to say this but, maybe you should take a break. From this, and… from everything.” Gorou squeezes Kazuha’s hand in a comforting gesture. Kazuha is aware that Gorou knows more than he lets on. He appreciates that Gorou is not the type who pries for details, and lets things be. “I’m here if you need to talk. Whatever it is, I’ll listen.”
Kazuha’s first instinct is to form an argument to protest against Gorou’s suggestion. Then he understands that as exactly what Gorou was afraid of, and he yields. Kazuha squeezes Gorou’s hand back.
Retracting his hand once he’s sure that Kazuha won’t try to work with the needle again, Gorou invites Kazuha to lean on him however he needs to. “What’s on your mind, Kazuha?”
“Really, you don’t have to,” Kazuha mumbles, but Gorou’s overwhelming optimism has started to rub off on him. He reaches for his pocket to search for the Vision shell, but his hands turn up empty. He pats down his clothing before he remembers that he had passed it around to the members of the resistance in order to find someone who is capable of reawakening it “Has anyone…?”
“No, sorry.” Gorou shakes his head, but then adds in a hopeful tone, “Not yet at least!”
“Thank you, though. For trying.” Kazuha dips his head, overcome with a wave of bittersweet emotion. Perhaps he isn’t ready to part with it yet, despite how he longs for it to be lit aglow again.
Gorou frowns at Kazuha’s reaction to the disappointing news. He shifts the subject to something that he believes may be easier on Kazuha to talk about, “Can I ask why it’s so important to you?”
“It belonged to someone very dear to me. He…” Kazuha does not finish his sentence, but Gorou knows how it would have ended. Even now, when it is too late, Kazuha still is unable to make sense of his own foolish heart. Kazuha collects himself, pushing past the feeling of wet soil building under his nails, “His hope, his aspirations, his everything -- I can’t let it end here. Not when it burned so brightly, even in his last moments. He was willing to stand against a god for his beliefs, how can I let go of that so easily?”
“I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Gorou beams, balling his hands into fists, eager to show Kazuha his support. Though Gorou encourages Kazuha’s endeavor, he hesitates before saying anything more. His smile begins to falter and he lowers his voice, “But are you sure that’s what your friend would have wanted?”
Kazuha fails to come up with an answer to Gorou’s question.
“He challenged the Raiden Shogun to a duel he knew he couldn’t win,” Gorou continues, facing the statue of a lonely god across the sea. Only those who bear the heavy burden of their ambition given form truly grasp what it means to have the glow of their Vision extinguished by a god. “He knew what would happen to him and his vision, and yet he still accepted the sentence of divine punishment willingly.”
When Kazuha falls silent for a period of time, Gorou’s hands fly to cover his mouth.
“I mean, who’s to say he doesn’t want his Vision reignited? We won’t know for sure unless we try!” Gorou frantically waves his hands out in front of Kazuha when he realizes that he spilled all of his thoughts too honestly for much longer than he had intended. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get your hopes down or anything.”
“No, you’ve done nothing of the sort. I already knew what I was doing was selfish. But I think I would have hated myself if I gave up here, when there is so much left undone,” Kazuha acquiesces. He has tried, time and time again, and yet he still knows nothing. The name of Tomoharu’s village, the reason he left it to begin with, and the reason for his death -- he knows none of it at all, and perhaps Kazuha never knew him at all.
Tomoharu had gone to Tenshukaku to die and Kazuha let him. All he has left are a handful of memories and an empty shell which once housed unwavering ambition to remind him of Tomoharu, and the time that he spent by his side.
If he knew how Tomoharu’s Vision awakened -- if he had bothered to ask, -- would it still be shining where it belonged?
Kazuha shies away from the gaze of the moon, “Maybe I did not know him as well as I thought I did,”
Gorou frowns at that, “That’s not true. Maybe you didn’t know what he was thinking, but that doesn’t mean that you didn’t know him. I never have a clue what Her Excellency has on her mind either, but I still know her .” Gorou tilts his head to the side, “Knowing why people do the things they do is difficult. But you learn a lot about a person in general just by caring for them,”
Kazuha chases a memory that slips through his fingertips, of simpler days, “Perhaps you’re right. Thank you, Gorou. For everything.”
Two wills shine brightly,
One teal, the other amber.
Proud under moonlight.
The last line clicks perfectly into place. Kazuha is content with his answer, spending his time alongside Gorou in their shared silent satisfaction .
-
(“So, you’re going?” Gorou almost sounds disappointed, but he masks it behind a steady tone well enough. Though his flattened ears and the way his tail stops swaying make his emotions readily apparent anyway.
“I can’t stay,” Kazuha replies, holding the same tattered scarf in his hands, “I would only cause more trouble for you all.”
“You won’t. We’re happy to have you here.”
Kazuha offers Gorou a smile, but he shakes his head. He guides a needle through his scarf.
“I’m grateful for everything you have done for me, Gorou.” Kazuha pulls the thread across, “Thank you. I would need several lifetimes to repay the debt I owe you.”
“Don’t mention it. You don’t have to repay anything,” Gorou waves it off, “We’re family.”
Kazuha stills at the word Gorou used to describe them. Warmth washes over him.
“I’m sorry about the vision, though,” Gorou pauses before he speaks again, “And I’m really sorry about your friend. I wish I could have done more.”
“Don’t be. You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you for giving him a second chance.” Kazuha closes a tear in the fabric of his scarf, and moves onto the next. There is nothing left to be done but to move onto his next destination. Kazuha starts from the beginning, guiding his needle through his scarf again. “A wanderer’s path is never certain.” He recalls the words of his friend fondly, the memory of their last conversation no longer brings with it a wave of guilt that Kazuha drowns in. And though that path of uncertainty is what Kazuha longs for, he wishes that he could have traveled alongside Tomoharu for a little while longer.
“You don’t have to hide how you really feel around me.” Gorou watches Kazuha work, fixing each tear slowly and carefully, “Losing a friend is never easy.”
“What else is there to say other than I miss him?” Kazuha sighs, the needle stops in place and Kazuha hesitates, unable to pull the thread through.
“Do you hate him?” Gorou leans over to correct Kazuha’s mistake, shifting the placement of the needle slightly.
Kazuha manages to pull it through this time, “No.” He answers honestly, and he continues sewing the wounds in his heart shut, “There are many things to hate about him.” He laughs, reminiscing on all of Tomoharu’s bad habits and moments of brilliant idiocy. “He was a horrible emotional drunk and always insisted on one more cup. He would leave his dirty clothes all over the floors and he would fall asleep in the middle of a conversation,” Hates himself more than anything for not being enough of a reason to convince Tomoharu to live. But how could he say that?
Kazuha mends the final tear in his scarf. “But I don’t hate him. I could never hate him.” And he feels whole again.
Gorou nods, content with Kazuha’s answer.
“It still hurts remembering that he’s gone. Even though we said our goodbyes before we went our separate ways.” The needle drops from Kazuha’s lap and rolls across the floor. “I wish that there could have been a way for me to have known that it would be the last time we would see each other again, so I wouldn’t have held onto the hope of uncertainty that keeps our paths intertwined.” He would have chosen to say anything other than “farewell” had he known it would have been their last conversation.
Gorou extends his hand out to Kazuha and he takes it, allowing Gorou to wrap an arm around his shoulders and offer him a moment of comfort.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trouble you with this. Something as silly as a goodbye isn’t worth crying over.” Kazuha raises his head, but Gorou urges him to take the time to rest it on his shoulder. Kazuha slowly sinks back into the warmth of another friend.
“You can cry about other things then.” Gorou points at the bandages on Kazuha’s fingers, “Like all the times you pricked yourself with a needle and got blood all over your scarf. You can also cry about how it somehow took you weeks to fix it up when you could have just done it in a few hours.”
“You’re right. I’m terrible at sewing,” Kazuha remembers the way Tomoharu used to laugh too, “I should have just handed it to Momoe the first few times she asked.”)
-
There is a moment where Kazuha thinks that he should have taken up on Gorou’s offer to stay with the resistance a little while longer. His hand ghosts over the hilt of his blade, listening to the staggered breathing of his current surroundings. He hears two -- no, three, one must be hidden in the shadows -- and counts the seconds it takes before he can gather enough Anemo in his blade in secret before they notice.
Perhaps it was his own fault for overestimating his own abilities in stealth. Reaching the port was not as easy as he made it seem in the plan outlined in his mind.
“Vision Hunt Decree!” One shouts and Kazuha sighs.
Yes, yes, he’s heard it all before and has grown tired of it. If only they could have made one exception -- things could have ended much easier for everyone involved. He listens to the movement of the leaves and pinpoints the location of the last hunter and prepares to strike. This time, it will be enough to wound and hinder their movements, not nearly enough to kill.
With one swift swing, Kazuha gathers the might of the first winds of autumn. A piercing gale slices through the vision hunters and Kazuha flees, chasing the light of Ritou’s port in the evening.
Hurtling onto the beach once Kazuha escapes through the forest, he follows the path and the scent of the sea. Though once he reaches Ritou, more of the shogunate’s soldiers will surely follow. Kazuha scolds himself as he runs -- he has forgotten to think of where his plan will lead him once he reaches Ritou’s ports. An arrow grazes his cheek and he barely makes it in time to deflect the next one aimed at his head. When a third flies through the air, he is roughly shoved aside and protected with a claymore adorned with intricate designs he has never seen.
Falling onto the sand, Kazuha looks up to see wild dark hair and clothes from a far away land. He blinks and glances behind his shoulder, seeing a large ship docked in the water right beside him.
“You wanted for somethin’, kid?” The woman questions him, picking him up easily to his feet by his scarf onto the wooden docks. Kazuha wobbles before her impressive display of strength.
“Several crimes, actually.” He responds, dusting the sand out of his clothing. She looks back at him with an incredulous expression. He shrugs.
“Gonna elaborate?”
Kazuha shakes his head.
Kazuha points at the ship, “Is that yours?”
The woman nods.
“Can I hide in there?” Though Kazuha asks, he is fully prepared to run and find another option once she rejects him.
With a low chuckle, she raises her chin in acknowledgement. “Sure, kid. You’re interesting, I like that. I’ll let you know when they’re gone.”
Surprised by their quick agreement, Kazuha pivots around on his heel and heads for the ship. Kazuha leaps on board and ducks behind loaded cargo. While he huddles in a dark corner, he wonders if this is another one of his many mistakes made on his journey out of Inazuma. Maybe he should have stayed with Gorou after all.
His worries all fade when he catches glimpses of a conversation -- listening to the voice of that mysterious woman pointing the Vision hunters in the wrong direction, leading them on a wild chase for nothing at all. Kazuha laughs at his own fortune.
-
“Not seasick, are you?” Beidou strolls to greet Kazuha sitting atop the edge of the Alcor’s many ballistas. She crosses her arms when Kazuha waves at her with a warm smile.
“Not at all. Just enjoying the breeze.” There’s a bounce to Kazuha’s steps as he guides the wind to his feet, walking on artificial clouds before he lands in front of Beidou. Beidou offers him a bit of applause, impressed by how he controls Anemo with such ease.
She motions for Kazuha to follow along as she begins to walk towards the dining area aboard the ship. “How’s the sailing life treating you? Are you used to it yet?”
“I’ve sailed before,” Kazuha chirps, “Though never on a boat as large as this.” He continues, thinking of the small wooden boat he had used to sail from island to island during his time in Inazuma. “And never with a crew.” Facing the harsh seas of Inazuma alone was always a challenge and a dangerous task.
“Make any friends?”
Kazuha chuckles, “A few.”
“That’s good!” Beidou swings open the cabinets, “D’you drink?”
Kazuha nods.
“Have you tried any Liyuen wines before?”
Kazuha shakes his head.
Immediately, Beidou slams a large jar on the table before him and shoves the cabinet shut. Kazuha jumps, startled at the sudden noise and size of the jar. Beidou slides him a cup and pours the wine into her own until it nearly spills over the brim. She passes the jar to Kazuha while she downs all of the contents in her cup in one go.
Kazuha pours halfway and takes a tentative sip. Beidou is already pouring herself a second serving.
“So, those crimes you’re wanted for,” Beidou starts, waving her cup around in the air, “You wanna tell me about them?”
Kazuha refills his cup fully, swirling it in his hands and sees the moon reflected on the surface of the liquid, “I ran from Vision hunters. Among other things.”
“Vision Hunt Decree, huh?” Beidou shakes her head disapprovingly, “I would have ran too.”
Kazuha studies the Vision hanging from her clothing. Beidou notices that it has caught Kazuha’s eye.
“If you’re wondering how I got mine, it’s a long story.” Beidou tosses the jar of wine at Kazuha when she sees Kazuha nearly empty his cup. Kazuha catches it, but places it down onto the table directly in between the two of them. “How’d you get yours?”
“Another long story,” Kazuha avoids answering. He still isn’t too fond of the memory. He wouldn’t even know where to start if he were to confide in her. Being reminded of Tomoharu turns the sweet Liyuen wine bitter, resurfacing buried memories and unwanted sensations.
“How ‘bout the one you carry around?” Beidou sees right through him. She truly does have him figured out, Kazuha severely underestimated her ability to read him on their first meeting.
“It belonged to…” Kazuha contemplates his next words. “It belonged to someone I loved very much.” Somehow those words come out the easiest than everything else he has spoken in his life.
Beidou sets down her cup and rests her chin on her palm. She waits for Kazuha to continue, eager to hear his tale.
“We travelled through Inazuma together. Every second that we spent together was cherished and treasured,” The rough waves carrying the Alcor forward have calmed since their conversation. Kazuha speaks, balancing his mind which wanders now that the sea no longer battles against the hull of the ship. “When the Vision Hunt Decree arrived, he challenged them to a duel before the throne.” He falters as he reminisces the glow of lightning, “His Vision is all I have left of him now.”
Beidou smiles gently. Kazuha has never seen her make such an expression. He never knew that she could even make such an expression. It comforts him, somehow, knowing she allows him to see this side of her. It’s only fair that Kazuha does the same.
Beidou leans further into her hand, “You talk about him like he’s the best part of your life. I’ve never seen you express this much emotion in all of your time aboard. It’s nice,” Beidou then adds with a hint of fondness in her voice, “I can tell how much he meant to you. Not everyone gets to experience that type of love in their life.”
Kazuha feels almost embarrassed when Beidou points out how he displays his emotions. Though he is glad that he is able to speak of Tomoharu with this amount of love, readily apparent to all those who are willing to listen. Retreating back to his usual calm and reserved disposition, Kazuha clears his throat.
Beidou saves him the trouble of salvaging their stagnating conversation.
“I see why you’re trying so hard to rekindle that Vision.” Beidou leans back into her chair, “It’ll happen. Don’t lose hope.” Then she sits up again, excited about something that suddenly comes to mind. She claps her hands together, “Actually, I know someone who reawakened a faded vision. Maybe it could just be her skill for making the impossible possible, but causing a Vision to reawaken is entirely… well, possible .” The way she speaks about this ‘someone,’ Kazuha can’t help but chuckle, it sounds exactly like the way he speaks about Tomoharu.
“Thank you, Beidou. I hope that day will come soon.” Kazuha stares out to face the open sea, illuminated by lonely starlight, “His hope burned so brightly before it went out. It would be a shame not to see it reignited again.” Though he could not convince Tomoharu to live, he hopes that he can at least convince his Vision to shine once more. Kazuha dips his head towards the waves, a single drop of wasted wine trickles into the limitless sea.
“Until that day comes, you will have the full support of the Crux fleet.” Beidou takes the forgotten jar of wine and sets it to the side. Then, she grins when struck with inspiration, “If you need people with strong wills, how about a tournament?”
-
The preparations go much more smoothly than Kazuha imagined. Though he supposes that he has the efforts of the Crux fleet to thank, as well as Beidou’s ability to solve any problem that comes their way.
“Do you remember the rules we agreed on?” Beidou pats him on the shoulder.
“Yes, I do.” Kazuha sits up. “Although, are you sure we are unable to up the stakes?”
Beidou tilts her head, motioning for Kazuha to elaborate. She seems skeptical of whatever Kazuha will say or do next.
Kazuha cuts through the air with his hand in a downward motion.
“Kid,” Beidou pinches the bridge of her nose, “No.”
“It was worth a try,” Kazuha jokes and dismisses his own idea with a casual wave of his hand. “How are the competitors?”
“Not bad, if I do say so myself.” Beidou flashes Kazuha a confident smile, “Full of talent this time around. However… I am waiting to see if a certain someone will come along and join us.”
“Good. I look forward to what the winds will bring,” Kazuha muses softly.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Do what?”
Beidou seems troubled, judging by the way her brows furrow in concern. She gathers her thoughts for a moment.
“That Vision is the last connection you have to him,” Beidou turns to Kazuha, she treats him as a dear friend, “Are you sure you want to be so willing to give it away?”
Kazuha stills. He touches the empty Vision resting on his chest.
“It was never mine to begin with,” That feels like the right answer. “It should belong to someone who can rekindle it. If it stays with me, all it can do is collect dust and fade away without a second chance at life.”
-
The person Beidou spoke of does arrive just in time to take part in the tournament. While Kazuha is praised by members of the Crux fleet when aboard the ship for his ability to predict the weather, he will never come close to matching Beidou’s ability to speak the unexpected into existence. This always amuses him.
The traveler he meets is odd in their own ways but it's nothing that Kazuha can’t handle. Their floating companion, however, reeks of stardust and lost time -- the traveler themselves carries a more subtle scent of the stars and a faraway land. When put together, though, it blends together wonderfully to create a scent that he recognizes. They smell like love when travelling together, and it reminds him of Tomoharu.
The Vision he carries has yet to reawaken from its slumber. But he gains a voyage back to Inazuma. This may very well be a blessing in disguise; Kazuha has grown tired of running from his own home.
-
“When do the storms start approaching?” Paimon appears next to the traveler in a puff of glitter and celestial residue. Then, with a gasp, Paimon ducks behind the traveler, “When does Paimon start hiding?”
“We’ll be okay.” The traveler says to soothe Paimon’s worries, “If we die, we die! That’s all there is to it.”
Kazuha calls from above, eavesdropping on their conversation from his location. Perched atop the ballista, studying the waves, as usual. “That won’t happen. Though if you are prone to getting seasick, I would suggest taking a bucket with you when we approach the tempest around Inazuma.”
The traveler greets him with a smile. Kazuha reciprocates with one of his own.
“Paimon is probably only worried because on our first meeting, I fished her out of a lake.” The traveler seems to have unveiled an embarrassing secret that should have only been kept between the two of them. Paimon covers their mouth but the traveler pries her hands off and continues talking, “Maybe she has bad blood with anything water related.”
“Hey! You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!” Paimon exclaims, zipping around the traveler and leaving a trail of constellations and ancient runes. Then she turns to Kazuha to distract them from the original topic, “Besides, isn’t it dangerous to be sitting up there?”
“Not at all. The view up here is breathtaking.” Kazuha holds his hand out, feeling the breeze flutter through the gaps in his fingers, “Now if we had some sake to go with this… this night would be unforgettable.”
Paimon squints, studying Kazuha’s face, “Are you at an age where you can drink?”
“I’m often told I look younger than I actually am.”
The traveler suddenly snorts, “You too?”
Paimon places her hands on her hips, “You’re not going to say you’re over a hundred now, are you?”
Kazuha peers down at Paimon, entertained by her question.
“No, of course not,” Kazuha counts the months he has spent without Tomoharu. “I’m only twenty.”
“Oh, you’re in your double digits!” Paimon gasps excitedly, only to be met with both the traveler and Kazuha’s expressions of confusion. She looks around and sees unamused faces. She crosses her arms with a frown, “That was a joke.”
“Anyway,” the traveler clears their throat, “It was nice talking to you, Kazuha.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Kazuha leaps down from the ballista, “We are approaching Inazuma. I suggest you take cover now if you are not accustomed to wild waves.”
He needs time to prepare himself for Inazuma. He also needs a bit of time to himself to finish the poem he had promised he’d write for an old friend.
-
Kazuha never made it his life’s goal to clash ideals with a god.
Gorou stays close to his side as they rally the resistance to storm the gates of Tenshukaku, challenging the idea of an immortal world where eternity reigns true.
Everything still tells him to run when he comes face to face again with divine lightning. As it approaches the figure of his new friends, the expression of terror that overtakes the traveler’s usual calm exterior sends a storm through Kazuha’s ambitions, scattering his thoughts like a cloud of leaves in autumn.
But something urges him to step forward, a ghost of a hand presses into his back and pushes him up the stairs of Tenshukaku. A familiar voice reassures him, calm streaks of electricity remind him that he is not alone.
The Vision he had prepared to dedicate himself to awakening presents him with a new path towards the clouds. When he clashes blades with the Musou no Hitotachi, he witnesses the glory Tomoharu once yearned for.
And he understands.
Fending off lightning’s unforgiving glow, Kazuha slices through a misconstrued eternity with golden maple leaves and a violet breeze.
No longer will he lose another friend to this pursuit of an undisturbed permanence, one that exists only to rip hope out of people’s hands. It ends here.
-
(And it does end. In a way that Kazuha can’t quite comprehend, blinded by the glow of a hundred Visions and a hundred blossoming dreams.
He remembers Gorou dragging him to his feet, another soldier snatching the Vision off the floor and shoving it back into Kazuha’s hands. The traveler disappears in a rift created by a fake world and Kazuha hopes that he will have done enough by the time the sun rises and the traveler greets him again with a smile. The unforgettable smell of love invades all of his remaining senses.
When this is all over, where should he settle down? He supposes that he should start thinking about this early. He is totally broke with only a handful of friends, after all.)
-
His first thought upon reaching the grave is not of sadness or regret. Rather, he laughs when he sees Azuki bathing in what little sunlight peeks through the trees, and the sight of the clumsily made grave. Thoma must have put in some extra effort in cleaning up its surroundings, the blade plunged into the earth standing taller than he remembers -- a little prouder than how Kazuha left it.
Kazuha kneels before it, scratching under Azuki’s chin as he lowers himself to meet Tomoharu. He brings his palms together and bows. Though he knew that Tomoharu was never the type for flowers, Kazuha takes a dendrobium he had carried carefully with him and places it by Tomoharu’s sword. Azuki meows, climbing into Kazuha’s lap. Even now, Kazuha still thinks that the two of them should have named her Tofu. He holds her close, wondering what she has to say to Tomoharu.
If only he could speak cat , Kazuha strokes through Azuki’s soft fur, or if only Azuki was a dog -- he could get Gorou to translate.
Now he is stuck wondering what he should say to Tomoharu instead.
He decides to start with a story, picking up where Tomoharu left off.
“You were always worried about whether or not I could take care of myself properly,” Kazuha says, letting himself relax and converse freely with an old friend, “Even though I was the one doing all of the cooking, cleaning and mending. You didn’t even trust yourself to be the one who handled the money.” Kazuha laughs as he recalls the image of Tomoharu sheepishly handing over the pouch of mora before he can make an impulsive purchase, the brightest laugh he has managed in a long time.
“So I’m sure you were worried when we parted ways. The first few nights without you were lonely, and I missed you,” Kazuha confesses, “I wanted to find you again. One night, I even hoped that it was all a dream, and I would wake up beside you in a world without the Vision Hunt Decree. A world where it was just the two of us,” Kazuha sucks in a deep breath, “I’m sorry I never told you that.”
A moment passes before Kazuha speaks again. Azuki paws at him to comfort him.
Kazuha purses his lips.
“I’m happy,” He speaks honestly, “I’m okay.” All of his words of reassurance are no longer a lie.
“There were so many stories I wanted to tell you. So many flowers that I wanted to bring to you,” Kazuha eyes the single dendrobium lying by Tomoharu’s sword, “I’m sorry I only brought you one today. The flowers I wanted to give you from Liyue don’t fare very well on a ship,” Then he sighs out another low laugh, “And the dandelions from Mondstadt were all unfortunately scattered the minute I leaped off the boat to come see you.”
“I was taken care of by many people, so you don’t have to worry about me anymore.” Kazuha takes Tomoharu’s Vision from his sleeve and holds it in his hands one last time. It is still warm, even if its soul is gone. Kazuha lays it to rest where it belongs.
“As for me…” Kazuha falls into the embrace of spring inviting itself in through the nearby breeze. Kazuha nudges Azuki off of his lap and watches as she circles around Tomoharu’s Vision. He stands and he smiles. He takes his first breath of Inazuma after the storm has passed.
A new life begins,
Wandering where the wind leads.
Kazuha departs.
The final line, resolved.
“I think I’ll go traveling. ”