˚ʚmonartyɞ˚

“Can't you stay, Kagami? Just this once?"

The pleading golden eyes of the White Oni shine underneath the moonlight, his brows raised into a desperate crease as he gazes up at Kagami. But the Grey Oni only stands like unyielding stone, stubbornly refusing to turn his head or meet his childhood friend's gaze, the heavy silence between them thicker than the nocturnal fog.

Owari doesn't understand. Why must it always end like this? Does Kagami truly hate him now? Has he committed some unforgivable sin in the past that makes his dearest friend unable to even look him straight in the eye anymore? A cold, gnawing fear whispers in the back of Owari's mind that maybe—just maybe—Kagami has grown to despise him ever since that fateful night he left him when they were still children.

"I know we don't get along anymore—" Owari's voice trembles slightly, cracking the quiet night. He slowly brings a pale, trembling hand forward toward the other Oni, seeking the slightest anchor.

At the movement, Kagami only stiffens visibly. The sudden tension in his frame causes Owari to instantly freeze, his hand hanging awkwardly midway between them. A wave of rejection washes over him, and with a slow, agonizing heaviness, Owari pulls his hand back to his chest, pressing it flat against his ribs where he can feel the sharp, hollow ache of a breaking heart.

Maybe Kagami doesn't just hate him now. Maybe, to Kagami, Owari was just the traitor who betrayed his own kin by being with the humans.

"Can't you at least look at me?" He questioned, his long nails digging against the palm of his hand.

The silence stretched, deafening and absolute, a stark confirmation of everything Owari had feared.

"What was I even thinking?" Owari chided himself, a bitter, self-deprecating smile ghosting across his lips. He was widely celebrated as the “Darling of the Capital,” showered with endless adoration, wealth, and the superficial praises of human nobility. Yet, all the titles and accolades in the empire meant absolutely nothing. What good was being seen by thousands when the only person whose gaze he actually wanted looked right through him, treating him as nothing more than a stranger.

The stillness lingered for what felt like an eternity before Kagami finally shifted, shattering the quiet.

“I need to return to my post, Master Owari,” the Grey Oni stated evenly, his voice utterly devoid of the warmth or familiarity that used to define it.

The formal honorific struck Owari like a physical blow to his heart. It was a sharp, calculated blade meant to sever the last fragile thread of their shared childhood, firmly establishing the insurmountable wall between them. Kagami turned his body half-away, preparing to depart, his calloused hand resting instinctually over the pommel of his sheathed sword—a barrier of pure, unyielding professionalism.

Owari swallowed the heavy lump forming in his throat. He forced his golden eyes to lower to the shadowed grass, hiding the profound devastation swimming within them.

“Of course...” Owari’s voice was barely a whisper, frail and hollow in the cool night air. He straightened himself, placing his hands on his knees, his sleeves covering his trembling hands. “You still have your duties. I... I apologize for delaying you.”