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Even through the din of her racing thoughts, Miko can sense the Shogun approaching—that unmistakable aura of thunderstruck shadow, metallic and divine. Bittersweet.
She turns before the Shogun can begin to speak. They will converse on her terms, or not at all.
“The Shrine welcomes you, Your Excellency,” Miko says with a shallow bow, enunciating her words with graceful precision—a razor-sharp edge to cut to the quick, deceptive and deadly as a snake in the grass. “How may I serve you?”
The Shogun looks at her with an odd quirk to her brow, lips downturned in a faint, concerned frown. “Have you been drinking?”
Miko feels like laughing in this imposter’s face. She knows she shouldn’t. She does it, anyway.
“I have not known you to care about me or my habits, Your Excellency,” she begins, a humourless chuckle falling from pink, pouting lips. She’d had one drink just moments ago—hoping to reach the point where the weight of her worries would drift mercifully away—but no matter how fine the flavour, she’d found she could not stomach it. Not tonight when the ley lines are loud and her memories even louder, a cacophonous beat that drowns out her heart.
But Miko can smell the sake on her breath, nonetheless, a heady perfume that mingles with the sakura. Shrugging an elegant shoulder, she meets the Shogun’s eyes. “Why start now, hmm?”
The Shogun looks hurt by that, of all things, and Miko inspects the woman before her.
“Of course I care about you, Miko,” she says, and oh. Oh. Perhaps her mind is hazier than she supposed—her perception impaired by the sheer volume of her thoughts.
… Or perhaps she is still unused to the fact that after half a godsforsaken millennium, Ei has decided to leave her seclusion behind; has finally decided to rejoin her in reality.
Miko huffs impatiently. Either way, she is not feeling generous—the rapture of their reunion in the Plane of Euthymia having diminished in the wake of Ei’s continued isolation—and she slips past Ei into the empty courtyard of the Shrine, the fresh air crisp, frigid, sobering, and she shivers when the breeze blows harsh on her skin.
“Is that so?” she replies, meeting violet eyes, her own cold and narrowed with growing resentment. “Your five hundred-year absence says otherwise.”
Ei’s eyes widen, taken aback, but the glimmer of guilt alive in Ei’s gaze is not enough to pacify her. “I did what I believed—”
“What you believed was necessary,” Miko interrupts, and throws Ei a sardonic smirk. “Yes, as you said the last time we spoke. But did it never occur to you that you were needed here? That yours was not the only loss in all of Inazuma?” Ei blanches, gaunt in the half-light, and while Miko knows she’s not quite playing fair, she cannot stem the flow of words from her mouth, sudden and swift as a tsunami’s waves now that the floodgates have been thrown open.
“I was compromised,” Ei insists.
“You were grieving,” she counters, nails biting into her palms, the crescents etched there a painful reminder. “And neither of us had to be alone. We could have found solace together.” Were it not for your cowardice, Miko thinks, unkindly, but has kindness enough to keep it locked behind her lips. “You fled and I rebuilt, and still I waited for you,” she says, and then, softer, defeated: “I am waiting for you even now.”
Ei says nothing as Miko’s eyes fall briefly shut, heaving out her vexation on a lengthy sigh, and she straightens her spine and dons an inscrutable mask before turning to face Ei more fully again.
“Why have you sought me out, Ei? Why now?” She folds her arms over her chest, does not shift her gaze, ever so slightly cocks her head to one side. “What makes tonight any different?”
Ei has the decency to look shamefaced.
“The world is deafening tonight,” she says, remorseful and crestfallen, and Miko’s keen eyes see her throat tighten, even in the heavy, velvet darkness of night. “You are the only one who would understand, and though I have burdened you more than I should have already, I am… selfish, Miko. I needed to see you.”
It is not the apology that she still yearns for—not nearly the acknowledgment that would afford her some peace—but it is earnest enough, quiet and true, and Miko can feel her traitorous heart lurch hard in her chest, picking up speed as she itches to go to her. Her love for Ei flares like an ache in her lungs and she wants nothing more than to enfold her in her arms, but she stands firm and focused, head held high.
Miko will not crack quite so easily.
“I am your servant, Ei,” she says with a bow to her god, elegant, but impassive, as always. “It is my duty to aid you.”
Ei’s eyes flash, bright in the dimness.
“No,” she says, serious and low, spurred into action as she crosses the meagre distance between them. “I don’t want your duty.” She lifts one hand to brush Miko’s cheek, and Miko suppresses a gasp at the electricity of her touch; soft and warm and unbearably tender. “I have never wanted it.”
Curse it all—
Miko searches Ei’s gaze, finds nothing but love, and while true resolution lies far on their horizon—forgiveness breaking like the dawn along with her faith—for now Miko allows her resistance to crumble, dust at their feet as she steps ever closer.
“This isn’t the end of our discussion,” she says.
Ei nods her agreement, solemn. “Of course not.”
“And no more hiding yourself from me.”
“I have a feeling that you would merely track me down again, anyway,” Ei replies, the hint of a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth.
“Ei—”
She kisses her, quick, just a faint press of their lips—the threat dying rapidly on Miko’s silver tongue—and the final barrier falls from around her heart with a finality that echoes in the stillness of the Shrine. “No more hiding,” Ei repeats. “Not from you.”
At Ei’s assurance she finally lets go, releasing an utterly undignified whimper, and when she bridges the gap to capture Ei’s lips, they sink into one another as they have not for an age, centuries’ worth of yearning erupting all at once. Ei grips her hips tight as she clings to Ei’s neck, and she is grateful, indeed, for the emptiness of the Shrine as the chill in the air becomes irresistibly heated—a pledge and prediction rolled into one.
The maidens, however, would not dare utter a word, were any of them here to witness this… though is it defilement if the Archon herself is a willing participant in such sacrilege?
Miko doesn’t care, and apparently neither does Ei—busy dropping kisses to her shoulders, neck, cheeks—and when Ei lifts her by the thighs, she wraps her legs around her waist, and allows Ei to carry her toward the annex. She ignores the entrance to the private rooms, pressing Miko against a pillar instead, and she loses her speech for a long, fervent moment as Ei resumes lavishing kisses across her skin.
“Oh my,” Miko murmurs, thick in Ei’s ear, the blood-red column rough at her back. “Out in the open for any passerby to see? This is bold, even for you, Ei.”
“This Shrine is dedicated, in part, to me,” she says, and Miko can see the stars that burn confident in Ei’s eyes, tinged gold by the glow of the lanterns overhead. “I can do as I wish.”
“I hope you do,” Miko whispers, honest in response, before proceeding to Ei’s lips with passion renewed, lowering her legs to stand on the platform, steady and sanctified beneath the eaves of the Shrine. She solidifies her balance as Ei pushes against her, flush and flushed deep crimson with desire, Ei’s hands wandering over the fabric of her dress and teasing her nipples to identical peaks.
She arcs into Ei’s touch, biting her lip, groans low in her throat when Ei nips through the silk, as one hand sneaks in to caress her bare breast, driving her wild with wanting and love.
It has been so long since they were together like this… been so long since Miko last felt another’s touch…
Ei draws her clothes aside to take a nipple in her mouth and that light touch alone is almost too much to bear—the combination of need and the thunder in her veins pushing her farther and faster than she could ever hope to endure.
Ei touches her body with diligent fingers, memory guiding her with practiced ease; every stroke, every kiss, every feather-light graze fueling the flames at the apex of her thighs.
Miko’s breath hitches as Ei descends to her knees, unhurried and somehow simultaneously eager, as if the pleasure is in the anticipation itself—the knowledge that soon she will indulge in delights that she has not savoured in a lifetime.
Ei has always loved her sweets, after all…
Some would be arrogant having a god at their feet—would feel a rush of power that is not truly theirs—but Miko inhales abruptly and knows that Ei is not yielding, but rather she is offering a gift of devotion: reciprocal, equal, in every possible way.
Miko throws her head back to the pillar as she sighs, shuddered and sharp and she closes her eyes against the image of Ei moving the hem of her dress before dragging her undergarments swiftly to the floor. And then Ei is on her, buried between her thighs, her tongue and her lips making quick work of her, and Miko would be mortified were it not for the joy of having the real Ei returned to her…
Because this feels precisely as it did in the past—reverent and radiant and full of adoration—and Miko wasn’t sure they’d find their way here again; wasn’t sure if Ei’s love would outweigh her fear.
She has never been happier to have been proven wrong.
She soars higher and higher, her head in the clouds, Ei’s name on her lips in a breathless chant broken by whines and moans and short, laboured breaths, and lightning sparks violet at Miko’s fingertips, control slipping as she tangles her hands in Ei’s hair.
She does not beg, but she doesn’t have to, Ei understanding precisely what she needs, and with a final swirl of her tongue and a tug of her lips, Miko braces herself fully against the yumemiru wood as she floats and she falls and surrenders to bliss—surrounded by a snowstorm of spring-scented petals.
Miko’s grasp on her magic flickers and fades, her tails unveiled in her moment of ecstasy, but there is no one to see who has not previously beheld them—or rather, more accurately, Ei has seen just the one, in another life a long time ago.
Ei rises slowly, trailing kisses up her stomach, rearranging her clothes to be presentable once more, and when she reaches her lips, Miko accepts her kiss—her own taste like nectar on Ei’s heavenly tongue.
They pull back to breathe in a comfortable embrace, Miko’s fond hands tracing the line of Ei’s jaw, and Ei’s gentle fingers card through the fur of her tails, making her shiver in Ei’s hold like the leaves in the wind.
“You have five tails now,” Ei mutters, awed, yet tarnished by sorrow and unfathomable regret. “They’re beautiful.”
Miko prefers not to think of her tails—each one a reminder of a century of solitude—but now she can begin to seek healing, at last, with Ei by her side for all eternity.
“Soon enough, I will have six,” she replies, voice mellow and sly, with a grin and a wink and a tap to Ei’s nose. But despite her light tone, the words contain multitudes, and Ei’s vivid eyes gleam in the brilliance of the moon.
She leans forward again, seals her vow with a kiss, and brushes her thumb against Miko’s smooth skin. “I will be there to see it,” she says, breathless and light, her lips shaped pious like prophecy. “I promise.”
fin