Riyoko

You wake up at an ungodly hour to the sound of a tiny paw tapping against your window. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you open the latch and pull up the glass, watching as the messenger cat hops on your bed.

“Good morning,” You mumble, taking the navy blue envelope from its mouth and patting its head in thanks. It purrs, nuzzling itself into your cupped hand while you scan the contents of the letter.

After reading the letter you sigh, folding it up and slipping it back in the envelope. “Another Hotarubi mission as inspector, huh? Guess I’ll go pick up the case files from Professor Moby now. I don’t think I can fall back asleep anyways.” The messenger cat looks up at you and gives you an enthusiastic meow.

“Thanks for the encouragement.” You grab your phone, deciding to send a quick text to Haku, telling him you’d meet him at Hotarubi with the case files. Suddenly, the messenger cat mews, reaching for the envelope in your hand. It knocks it to the ground and jumps off the bed after it, sharp nails scratching into your thigh as it launches itself off the bed.

“Ow!” You inspect your leg. Blood is already beading on the surface of your skin. You throw your phone on the bed and make your way to the bathroom to wash the cut, the unsent text promptly being forgotten.

After slapping on a bandaid and getting dressed, you turn around to watch as the messenger cat plays with the envelope on the floor, pushing it around and leaping after it.

“So… Cute…” you say, before closing the door of the cathedral behind you.

After stopping at Professor Moby’s office and getting the case files, you decide to sit down for a moment on a bench to quickly look through them. You skin through, muttering to yourself as your finger trails down the pages. It seems as though they tasked Hotarubi with the mission due to the fact that the anomaly is likely to be some sort of spirit, and that it was likely holed up in a forest temple not too far away from the teahouse. Seems easy enough! Tucking the folder back under your arm, you grab your bag and head to Hotarubi.

As you wait for Haku by the teahouse, you can’t help but wander around the grounds. The subtle smell of blooming wisteria wafts over the lake between crisp morning mist, illuminated by the first rays of the sun. You’d never been there so early, and the quiet stillness takes your breath away. You quickly check your notifications for Haku’s reply, but there’s nothing. Bored, you circle the building, finding the trail that leads up to the temple. Maybe it would be helpful to quickly scout it out first, seeing that it was so close by.

You gather your belongings and head up the forest path. There are small wooden markers along your way that indicate you’re travelling in the right direction, and you let yourself zone out, enjoying the sounds of chirping birds and gentle rain pattering on waiting leaves. It isn’t long before you reach a clearing and find yourself at the base of a small Shinto temple nestled between tall, centuries-old pines. There’s a stone torii gate up a small set of mossy stairs, with a rain-worn wooden sign hammered into the ground beside it. Stone lanterns illuminate a rock path to the vermillion-painted temple as it stands boldly under the dark shade of the forest.

You approach the gate slowly, making sure to bow fully before walking past it. The temple doors are shut, so you decide to circle around the outside. There are a pair of stone dogs guarding the entrance and you nod to them as you walk by. A small pathway stretches out behind, leading you to a well-maintained shrine. You bow at it before circling back to the front.

Though nothing of note came up, you were pleased with yourself for taking the initiative to do a little inspector work for your team. You mentally pat yourself on the back before pulling your phone out again to check for new messages, realizing that you have no reception.

As you prepare to leave, a breeze blows past, and you hear the door of the temple behind you creaking open just a inch. Peering in through the gap, you see that the inside is lined with white paper lanterns, gentle flames inside emitting an inviting, flickering glow. You push the heavy wooden door slightly to see farther in, smell of cedar and incense and warmth overtaking your senses. Slightly farther still, you take a step in to the temple, noticing a large bronze statue in the middle, emitting a slowly pulsating purple glow. Your breath catches in your throat, and you realize that maybe this was probably something you should examine with the others. You take a careful step back, when suddenly—

Thick, braided hemp ropes swing down from the ceiling, wrapping themselves around your body. You yelp in surprise, dropping your phone and the case file. The ropes twist around your arms, your waist, your thighs, loose ends pushing your bag off your shoulder and tangling under your blazer, shrugging it off your body and onto the floor in a crumpled mess. A moan rips from your throat as your head is pulled back by a rope knotting around your hair, while another wraps itself around the back of your neck. Slowly, you feel yourself being hoisted slightly off the ground and into the air by the array of cords that work to tangle themselves around you, and the last thing you see before your mind goes completely blank is a deep, swirling purple mist.

Your mind is hazy and your eyes are closed, but you recognize the sound of three voices as they call your name. They sound distant, but then there’s a creak of a heavy wooden door opening, followed by three loud gasps.

“My goodness…”

“Oh, my dear girl!”

“There’s no way…”

There’s slight shuffling sounds, before they fall into an uncomfortable silence.

“S-Subaru? Zenji? And… Haku?”

“Yes! Um, ah, s-sorry, I just… I wasn’t expecting… Oh! The case file’s scattered all over the floor…” Subaru’s voice stutters from beside you and you hear him shift, followed by the frantic sound of paper rustling.

You can feel that your head is pulled back, though your body is upright. Your wrists and forearms are bound behind your back, and your legs are spread wide open with rope that binds around your thighs. Your weight is being supported by what must be multiple coils around your waist and torso, restricting your movement completely.

An upside-down Zenji floats into view as you slowly blink open your eyes.

“Do not worry, my dear! I’ll get you out of this mess!” He follows the rope to where it’s attached on the ceiling, moving to untie it, but his hand clips through the knots as he desperately tries to grasp them. “I… can’t…”

Zenji whips his head towards your feet. “Haku! Stop ogling and please do something at once! This poor girl is helplessly strung up here with her clothes all torn and you’re just standing there staring between her legs?!”

You immediately flush a bright red.

“I was just examining the tying method used for this particular kinbaku work,” he says coolly. “It seems like whatever entity was here is more than well-versed in the art of rope bondage. I’m familiar with undoing the intricacies of the knots… It’s just that it seems the anomaly has threaded itself into the fibers of the clothing.”

“Into my… clothes? What do you mean?” You ask.

“I mean, we’d have to remove them all to free you from your bindings.”

“H-Haku! There must be another way!” Zenji shrieks. “Oh, my poor girl, I can’t bear to see you stripped of your dignity!”

Something must be in the air, because there’s nothing that sounds more enticing to you than Haku’s bold proposition.

“O-okay, that’s alright with me…”

“No!” Zenji cries out. “I-I mean… If it has to be done, maybe you would be more comfortable if we looked away, to give you some privacy!”

“Y-yes, this is a matter of privacy!” Subaru chimes in with enthusiasm, his tone overeager. He clears his throat nervously. “Ah— Because, see, just glancing over the case files, it seems as though the victims have all been tied in different positions. So, I— um. I think it’ll be easier to peruse the case files back in Hotarubi, if that’s alright with everyone.”

Upside-down Zenji nods with fervor. “Yes, yes, Subaru! A wonderful idea! We can cover more ground that way!” Zenji looks at you. “But only if that’s okay with you, my dear girl.”

You nod with the limited movement the ropes grant you.

“Haku, I trust that you treat our dear inspector with only the utmost of care,” Zenji says sternly.

“Of course.”

Once Subaru and Zenji make their abrupt exit, Haku chuckles to himself, sidling up beside you. He unties a knot, freeing your head from its backward position, and you turn to him.

“So… Did you like when I was looking between your legs?”

His boldness catches you off guard, his words sending a pang straight to your core as you stammer.

“I’m just kidding. Maybe.” His finger traces over a stretch of rope that coils under your breasts, causing you to shiver. A sly grin spreads across his face. “So, I didn’t wanna say this with the others around, but I think we should take some photos.” He watches you intently, as if he’s trying to gauge your response. “For the case file, of course. We can cover up anything recognizable, and even destroy it before we hand it in. I just think it would be beneficial… For us.”

You hardly ever find yourself at a loss for words, but Haku’s always had a way with manipulating his sentences, like he knows exactly how every word is affecting you. He inches closer, his long fingers continuing to glide along the rope, shadows of his touch setting off sparks under your skin.

“What do you think, Princess?” His lips are inches from yours.

You swallow, nodding. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“I’m gonna need to hear it in words, unfortunately.”

Your voice is strained, quivering slightly when you speak. “Y-yeah, you can take photos.”

He smiles as he backs away. “Good girl.”

You watch as he holds his phone up and moves around you. When he stands at your feet, camera pointed directly at your spread legs, you instinctively turn your head to the side.

“Aw, are you shy? You should know you look so pretty, tied up like that for me.”

A moan nearly slips from your lips as you instinctively try to clamp your legs together, ropes promptly stopping the movement. He grins, snapping a quick photo before walking around you, stopping once again at your side. His eyes glimmer, gold flecks swimming in his rapidly darkening irises.

“So… Wanna tell me how you got in this mess?”

“W-what?”

He smirks. “You’re cute when you’re tied up like that, so I wanna make it last a little longer. And I’m curious why you came up here all by yourself without telling any of us.” His fingers play at the ropes binding your waist.

“I did tell you… I texted you to meet me at Hotarubi after I picked up the files…” His fingers graze your skin, causing you to squirm.

“I didn’t get a text.”

“I sent it this morning when the messenger cat—” Oh. Right. You never did end up sending the text. “Oops.”

Haku’s fingers slowly move down to a series of knots around your pelvis. He runs them slowly over the twists of the knots, pressing them slightly into your skin, the light bite of the hemp making you gasp.

“You really should be more careful. You do know this is an aphrodisiac anomaly, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay, and what do aphrodisiacs do? You’re an inspector, you should know by now.” He’s moved his focus to the rope running between your inner thighs, watching as you struggle to speak, much less answer his question.

“They… They make you feel… G-good.”

“Mmm. Good answer.” He swipes the back of a knuckle along your damp underwear, causing you to choke out a moan. “You’re a smart girl.”

“Fuck, H-Haku…”

“Fuck Haku what?” A fingertip brushes against your clit through the underwear, causing you to buck up immediately at the contact.

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment from the pleasure.

“Hey, c’mon, use your words.”

“F-fuck, Haaah… Please? Haku, I—” A finger plunges deep into you and you choke out a cry. You strain your body into the rope, clenching your muscles and pushing into the knots. The pressure feels sweet, almost tangy, the way it presses bruises into your skin. Haku has your underwear pushed to the side, his finger moving languidly in your warmth as he watches your reaction. God, why was he always watching you? And why is he moving so slowly? Cursing him and his games, you try to create some sort of rhythm with your hips, but his other hand grasps the rope from around your thighs and pulls you away.

“Hey, hey. It’ll feel better slow, I promise. Plus, what’s the rush? Where are you planning on going anyway, dressed like that?”

You stare at him with venom in your eyes. He smiles softly at you.

Slowly, his finger returns to its original speed, thumb beginning to circle your clit as he adds another finger. He curves them gently upwards and you gasp as he rubs your center, your hips rolling into his palm. Your mouth drops open as he quickens the pace just slightly as you look up at him.

When your eyes lock, a flush of pure embarrassment immediately stains your cheeks. Seeing him between your unapologetically spread thighs makes you feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so lewd, and behind his piercing gaze, you can tell Haku can read you like a book. The rhythm of his fingers are wet as they move inside you, and all you think about is how humiliating it is that he was able to make you melt like that in a matter of minutes.

But then you hear Haku groan, then curse under his breath.

And as he croons about how wet you are, how good you look tied up like that for him, how badly he wants to fuck you, you notice that his other hand is moving. Is he touching himself? And between shuddering breaths, you manage to tell him to fuck you, please, Haku, because there’s nothing more in this moment you could want more.

But he’s stubborn, and he doesn’t change a thing about what he’s doing until soon, your sharp, shallow breaths match the wet, now rapid pace of his fingers.

“The fabric softener you recommended is much better,” he says. He tucks the collar of another shirt in tight. 

You tuck your legs underneath you, too. “It smells good, doesn’t it?” 

Haku hums. He stacks one last shirt on the top of the pile. “Now my clothes will smell like you.” 

He looks up at you. The rain smears itself into a grey behind the warm melt of his eyes, and as you fish for something to say that is louder than the stutter of your heartbeat you swear you see the hint of a teasing smile in the corner of his mouth. 

“I hope that’s a good thing,” you say. It comes out steadier than you feel. 

Haku laughs. The low sound rests, summer night-soft, against your palms, and you lean back against the cool wood of his dresser like it will stop your head from floating. “Of course it is. Now I’ll be reminded of you every morning when I put a shirt on.” He gathers the pile into his arms before rising to his knees. “Not that I don’t already think of you every morning when I wake up, princess.” 

He shuffles two steps towards you on his knees, balancing the stack of clothes in his hands carefully, before he pauses. He tilts his head. The gold of his eyes trace the blushing burning across your cheeks. “Not that I don’t already think about you all the time, that is.” 

You flush, and he doesn’t even bother trying to hide his grin. You allow yourself a small smile back. “Stop flirting if you don’t mean it, Kusanagi.” 

“Ow,” he fake-winces, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Last named me, huh? Guess I deserved that.” 

You look down at your hands. You know he never means it. 

You wonder, for the hundredth time, how many others have fallen for the whiskey of his words and the kindness of his smile, for the way his voice somehow soothes the parts of you you didn’t even know were tired. For the sugar of his attention and the quiet way he listens. The quiet way he remembers. 

There is a faint shuffle across the floorboards before his knees come into view, and his voice sounds, dangerously close, “For the record, princess, I do mean it.” 

Your head jerks up, and oh— 

Haku is inches from you, the warmth of his body only separated from yours by a stack of white shirts and black slacks. His knees find yours, an equal measure of invitation and restraint that snags your breath and leaves your ears ringing with rain, and as you inhale in surprise the heartbeat-distance he has left between you swells to something far too small and far too wide all at once. 

His eyes flicker down, almost intentionally, before he drags them back up to meet yours. “I always mean it.” 

All traces of amusement are gone, now, from his voice. His words catch in the air between you, spiderweb-thin and steady. You swallow them. 

How cruelly promising the taste of hope can be. How awfully addictive.

When you open your mouth again the dry of your throat sounds too loud in the quiet. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” 

But your body betrays you, and you are leaning forward with the memory of all the times that have gone before — 

Haku holding your hand all the way into Darkwick, even though you didn’t dare ask. The cool of his calluses is rough against the shake of your palms, soothing and steady and careful; his words blur your world at the edges until all that is left in the warmth of the train is a low hum that settles below your skin. 

Haku taking your hand in his, voice fog-soft, when he breaks the news. You sit in the tea room of Hotarubi when he does. There are stacks of research around him, and the deep purple of the drizzle outside matches the bruise-blue of his eye bags when he tells you he can’t resolve the Kyklos curse until they catch it. You don’t realise you are crying until he presses into the ache of you.

Haku texting you check-ins between missions. Remember to rest. How was your mission? Drink some water. I’ll let them know not to expect you. You did the best you could. You keep your head above water, if only to watch the way your phone lights up like a lighthouse with the balm of his voice. 

Haku sitting with you on the Hotarubi veranda. The ghost carp drift around you, serene and secret. You are tired, so tired, and as the moonlight fractures itself across the surface of the lake Haku tells you about the cherry blossoms in the garden of his family shrine. Your hand is warm in his. Your head rests against his shoulder. You both let the safe of his voice lull you to sleep. 

Haku bumping his shoulder into yours under the cover of Asakusa lights. Zenji’s laughter is blinding, and when you turn to Haku with a grin you find that he is already looking at you, tender, unreadable. He laughs when the crowd pushes you into the safe of his arms, lets his lips brush the top of your ear when he leans in to whisper something sweet that melts into the race of your heart. It makes you want to live. 

Haku tugging you through the Hotarubi rain, arm around your shoulder and both your laughter tangling into the grey. He sweeps your hair away from your face when you arrive under shelter. You let your thumb swipe a drop of rain from his cheek. When your eyes meet your whole world goes blue, and you both have to work hard to pretend the static that hums under your skin is solely from the rain. 

Haku standing with you in front of the cathedral door. He jokes lightly about seeing you in your pajamas again, brushes his fingers along the curve of your jaw when you flush. You linger at the door. The moon curls itself between the both of you and laces itself into his hair and the citrine of his eyes, and when he reluctantly lets you go he looks at you as if the time left between you is a thread he dares not tug. You look at him like you want him to. 

— and Haku lets you, languid and still and trembling with patience, and for a moment, just for a moment, you are just two people sitting on the floor of a bedroom, the lingering taste of what-ifs and I-want-tos bright on the tips of your tongues, July-sweet and hopeful against the press of your futures. 

But oh— you are halfway to your doom and July is nothing but a lost month, its midnights a quick slip into dawn— the moment disappears as silently as it arrives. 

Funny how you’ve spent so many nights wondering what it would be like to love Haku, only to remember the moment he lets you that you cannot.  

You lean back first. Haku follows suit. 

He exhales softly, a sound of surrender disguised as composure. The faintest curve of a smile ghosts across his mouth, something rueful, something kind, like he was already slow dancing with the thought of what could have been. 

You exhale, too. If you screw your eyes shut you can almost believe the honey of his eyes can stop the hurtle of time towards the end of your year. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

There is nothing to be sorry for, you want to say. I’m sorry. Perhaps in another life, you will be easier to love. 

“I’m going to die,” you say, instead, by way of explanation. He understands, like he always does. 

The gold narrows. “Not if I can help it.” 

He moves, then, smooth, slow. When you don’t startle he tips your chin up, just a little. “You’re going to live,” he says, and the words snap, firm and bright, between his teeth. 

He sets his clothes down. The pile topples over out of the corner of your eye, but Haku’s hands are on you again, palms warm. His thumb brushes the tremble of your cheekbone. Your fingers curl into where his sleeve is rolled up. The whole room tips over into something electric and silent, filled only with the thunder of your heart as he leans closer, closer. 

“You’re going to live,” Haku says, again. He looks at you through the green of his bangs. “And next winter we’re going to go to that cafe in Uji I promised I’d take you to.” 

It makes you huff a laugh, soft and disbelieving and hopeful, and with it slides all the tension that has been building in your veins. He says it with so much certainty it almost convinces you, like the burn of his words is enough to wrestle the threads of fate back into your own hands. Maybe you want it to be. 

Haku doesn’t lean back this time. 

His breath ghosts over your lips, careful, as though he is measuring how close he is allowed to get. When he says your name, low, slow, it is dizzying, reverent; when he rounds out his vowels it is with a devotion heavy with almosts that have been quietly piling up, waiting for a moment like this to collapse beneath their own weight.

And collapse they do — 

When you meet him in the middle he tastes like a promise. He tastes warm, like home, like the half-remembered hour before dawn breaks, like a question asked and answered over and over again until the truth of him settles deep into your bones. He tastes like he looked at you once, under the right lighting and at the right time and everything clicked into place for him, too. 

The room blurs around you, folds inwards. Against the soft press of his lips and the shape of his breath against yours, the world slips, quietly, mercifully, out of orbit— 

When you break apart, you think, for one golden moment, that time might hesitate, that the curse might forget your name just long enough for you to have this.

“Haku,” you start, but what words are there for the way he makes you want to live? What words are there for the hope that has spilled from his lips and settled somewhere between your ribs, sweet and lovely and electric? 

But he understands. His free hand finds yours. 

“We’ll find a way to break your curse,” he murmurs. He hangs a half-smile on the edge of his lips like it will catch the light exactly as it is now, his profile lamp-gilded and his lashes soft against your cheek, caught between giddiness and forever in the moment before the world remembers what it owes you both. 

“Okay,” you whisper. It comes out like a prayer. It comes out like a plea. When you lean forward to kiss him again it comes out like an appeal to the universe to have the rest of your life, just so you can spend it with him. “Okay.” 

Haku looks at you, then, golden and unwavering, and things are different after that.

-

iii. You are cursed, and Haku Kusanagi is unfortunately, terribly, horribly in love with you. 

He says this, quietly, as you stand at the edge of Odaiba Beach. He says it with a small smile, like it doesn’t cut through him the same way it cuts through you.

You are swatting away the summer mosquitos with a disgruntled, “These mosquitoes love me too much,” when Haku laughs, sweet and open. 

“Not as much as I do,” he says. He shifts the shopping bags from one hand to the other, like he hasn’t just shifted some part of your world. “Want to take a walk in the waters? They’ll leave you alone then.” 

You laugh something breathless and disbelieving. Haku takes it as a yes. He kneels to close his fingers around your ankles, gently disengaging the hook of your heels so he can slip them off, your very own reverse-Cinderella. 

He looks up then, your prince on one knee, the moss of his hair made grey by the pink glass of sunset. If you don’t look too closely at the shopping bags on his wrist and the white block heels in his hand you can almost see an alternate future where he is holding something else, something velvet and small and full of promise for a future you will never have. 

But there is a gleam in his eye and his fingers are soft on your skin, and by some folly you let yourself believe it, if only until the clock strikes twelve, this world in which two people in love will never be torn apart— but then Haku is straightening up, and the moment breaks like waves on shore. 

It leaves a taste in the hollow of your throat, bitter and aching and sweet all at once, a yawning feeling. As you watch the sinking sun settle around him like a halo you wonder — is this what love is supposed to be like? 

Haku toes his shoes and socks off, swings your heels over his shoulder. He grins at you. “Ready?” 

How much of you can love? How much of you has already been consumed by the Kyklos, hungry and gaping? How much of you is still human enough to love, to be loved? 

Haku takes a step into the waters. 

You do the same. 

The cold of the ocean shocks a laugh out of you — you are still human enough to be startled by its sting, and you see the quick flash of concern on Haku’s face melt into an understanding grimace. 

“Didn’t expect it to be this cold,” he admits. The sheepish smile he throws your way tugs a matching smile onto your own face; it pulls something deep from the recesses of your mind, an image of a boyish grin illuminated by the glow of an ice-cream vending machine, shadowed by train station lights. 

“W-wait,” you find yourself saying. 

You won’t remember the day you met him. Already you have lost count of the number of times you’ve woken up barely remembering your own name, curse mark on your back searing tears onto every pained gasp you take. At the end of your year you’ll give all your memories and whatever is left of yourself over to the Kyklos. At the end of your year your past — all you know about Haku, all you love about him, all the days you’ve spent on the altar of his touch and all the nights you’ve spent warmed by his lips in the white silence of Hotarubi — will be blotted out and rewritten in the dripping grey of a holding cell, blurred and gone cold. But oh— 

Perhaps love is barefoot, ankle-deep in the waters with you, hair wind-strewn and laced with light. Perhaps love is turning to you, gaze open like a sunset and tender with gold, waiting. 

You exhale. Your phone is in your hand before you know it, swiped left to activate its camera. 

Perhaps love is the ache between your ribs, the sinking in your heart when you realise a moment is slipping through your hands faster than you can catch it— 

Your thumb hovers over the shutter. 

You watch as love tilts his head, eyes soft and questioning, patient as always. When your finger lands on the button you wonder if you’ve captured his radiance the same way he’s captured your heart. 

But then love is shifting towards you, swinging his shopping bags away so he can look at you face-to-face, and you swallow. Perhaps love is a hand barely an inch from yours, warmed with a history of wanting. 

“Princess?” Haku murmurs. There is so much unabashed affection, devotion you can pack into the cadence of a single word; it unravels before you as you meet his gaze. 

Perhaps love is a hand blindly reaching out for yours and finding it all the same. 

When his hand curls into yours it doesn’t send sparks up your skin – no, it sinks something softer, deeper, than the mercury of you. 

“Hey, now,” Haku says, easily. “You’re thinking too much again.” He squeezes your free hand, once, twice, before interlacing his fingers with yours. 

You can’t help the half-smile that slips onto your face at the familiar action. Safety guaranteed, remember? 

You remember. You do. 

Oh, you do. You have to. You will. 

Haku’s eyes search yours with a gravity that blooms up your spine like honey, settles you into the solid-sweet clouds of his palm like it is the only thing keeping you from floating away. “You alright?” 

You wonder, briefly, if this is how he will remember you, in the end. 

White dress, barefoot in the sand. Hair made a mess by the wind and eyes stinging not from the salty breeze but from the stars that simmer under your skin where his fingers are flush against yours. 

“Yeah,” you say, like you always do. It comes out sounding more like a no. It comes out sounding more like an I’m sorry, like an I wish things were different, like an I wish I could love you the way we both deserve. 

Haku understands, like he always does. 

He tugs you closer, dips his forehead against yours. His breath tangles into yours. “We’ll find a way to break your curse, princess.” 

You can almost taste the familiar undercurrent of desperation in his words, less than a whisper away, barely masked in the same half-smile you’ve spent night after night falling in love with. “Haku–“

“I will,” he insists, instead. His eyes slip shut; his words slip into your lungs, snag onto the sharp of your ribs until you can’t tell how much of the hope left in them is his and how much is still your own. The waves lap at your feet, a beating vow. “I will find a way.” 

His fingers tighten around yours, as much an anchor against the sweep of the tide as it is an anchor for you. He will not lose you. 

Your lips brush against his. 

You squeeze back. 

going to a halloween party one of ur friends (rui) is throwing at his place and deciding what to wear and bf!haku suggests u go as dragons. couple dragons, even, like toothless and light fury

u order your costume online separately and think that actually. it would be incredibly funny if haku showed up in a sexy dragon costume & u showed up in a light fury onesie. unfortunately haru (drunk) vetoes this

(u ask haru if he intends to arrive as a sexy jiangshi. haru snores in response.)

but ur costume arrives and the lace-up bustier fits perfectly & so do the choker & the harness for the wings and when evening rolls around for haku to fetch u to rui’s u open the door and the poor man chokes

bc although haku looks fucking fantastic w his matching chain & his smirk & those fucking horns on his head & the harness that makes his shoulders look broader than they should. his eyes will Not leave ur chest. or his hands ur skirt. oh god perhaps u should have thought this through

rui’s party starts on time (haru does not attend as a sexy jiangshi unfortunately.) but alas u two aren’t there yet bc haku has decided to nest in ur bedroom with his “treasure” (his words) i.e., his head is between ur legs & his sleeves are rolled up & his hands are groping & flicking at ur chest while ur clinging onto his horns for dear life. or his hair. whatever bc at this point it doesn’t make a difference bc when u tug on him he makes the most delicious sound that vibrates against ur core and sends shockwaves through ur entire system and hey maybe he’s right u don’t have to go see rui tonight after all.

& even though haku promised it’d be quick bc he just. cannot help himself princess i’m so sorry not with u looking like that. struggles to take the bustier off bc it’s lace-up and ends up just tugging it down and leaving marks all over ur neck and collarbones and chest bc sorry dragons are territorial i guess! nips at the inside of ur thighs & holds onto ur choker & kisses u messily all teeth and grin when he slides in. at the end of an hour and two missed calls from rui u finally get a glimpse of urself in the mirror and oh god u . Literally cannot go out looking like that haku wtf

but this man just smirks & says good! & u swear if he was a real dragon w a functioning dragon tail it’d be swishing around so much in satisfaction rn bc he’s pulling u down onto the bed again for round four even though his cum is dripping down ur thighs. Good luck!

(when u do show up at rui’s later. it is with hastily done concealer. u want to make the excuse that ur a dragon who got into a fight on the way here. rui & haru nearly believe u & ur apparently fantastic make up skills but haku’s eyes are a little unfocused & he’s grinning a little too dopily and well. they suddenly don’t want to hear it)

going to a halloween party one of ur friends (rui) is throwing at his place and deciding what to wear and bf!haku suggests u go as dragons. couple dragons, even, like toothless and light fury

u order your costume online separately and think that actually. it would be incredibly funny if haku showed up in a sexy dragon costume & u showed up in a light fury onesie. unfortunately haru (drunk) vetoes this

(u ask haru if he intends to arrive as a sexy jiangshi. haru snores in response.)

but ur costume arrives and the lace-up bustier fits perfectly & so do the choker & the harness for the wings and when evening rolls around for haku to fetch u to rui’s u open the door and the poor man chokes

bc although haku looks fucking fantastic w his matching chain & his smirk & those fucking horns on his head & the harness that makes his shoulders look broader than they should. his eyes will Not leave ur chest. or his hands ur skirt. oh god perhaps u should have thought this through

rui’s party starts on time (haru does not attend as a sexy jiangshi unfortunately.) but alas u two aren’t there yet bc haku has decided to nest in ur bedroom with his “treasure” (his words) i.e., his head is between ur legs & his sleeves are rolled up & his hands are groping & flicking at ur chest while ur clinging onto his horns for dear life. or his hair. whatever bc at this point it doesn’t make a difference bc when u tug on him he makes the most delicious sound that vibrates against ur core and sends shockwaves through ur entire system and hey maybe he’s right u don’t have to go see rui tonight after all.

& even though haku promised it’d be quick bc he just. cannot help himself princess i’m so sorry not with u looking like that. struggles to take the bustier off bc it’s lace-up and ends up just tugging it down and leaving marks all over ur neck and collarbones and chest bc sorry dragons are territorial i guess! nips at the inside of ur thighs & holds onto ur choker & kisses u messily all teeth and grin when he slides in. at the end of an hour and two missed calls from rui u finally get a glimpse of urself in the mirror and oh god u . Literally cannot go out looking like that haku wtf

but this man just smirks & says good! & u swear if he was a real dragon w a functioning dragon tail it’d be swishing around so much in satisfaction rn bc he’s pulling u down onto the bed again for round four even though his cum is dripping down ur thighs. Good luck!

(when u do show up at rui’s later. it is with hastily done concealer. u want to make the excuse that ur a dragon who got into a fight on the way here. rui & haru nearly believe u & ur apparently fantastic make up skills but haku’s eyes are a little unfocused & he’s grinning a little too dopily and well. they suddenly don’t want to hear it)

“It was a good call to borrow a car from Alan,” you say, as you get into the car. “I don’t know how we’d haul all this back within one trip.” 

Haku laughs, tugging the driver’s door closed. “I should be thanking you, then, since you were the one speaking to Vagastrom.” 

You tuck your clipboard back into the tote bag at your feet. “If I didn’t convince Alan, Subaru would have spoken to Sho.” 

Haku laughs again, a short huff as he leans in over the centre console. The proximity sends a flush up your neck, especially when you feel his nose brush your cheek, followed by the soft press of his lips. “Thank you for doing it, then, so our captain didn’t have to.” 

Even though it’s been months of this it still sends a shy swell of adoration through your lungs every single time. You turn slightly to reply, but Haku is reaching across you with his right hand, long fingers catching on your seatbelt before pulling it across you. His lips don’t leave the edge of yours as he murmurs, “Your seatbelt, princess.” 

If you turn just a little more, you’d feel the press of his lips against your own– 

But there is nothing stopping you, you remember, nothing stopping you from tasting the honey of his words straight from the source– and so you do, and he kisses you sweetly, gently, heart-thumpingly–

It is so easy to pretend, that you are just two people, out running errands and heading home for the night. That everything is ordinary, that after this, you will unlock your doors and unload your groceries and put everything away, and spend the rest of the moonlight murmuring in the warmth of each other’s eyes. 

But there is a beep from your phone, a sharp crack in the still of the car, a snap of notifications and reminders that you are nothing but a tool of Darkwick–

When you pull away, Haku sighs.

The smile he offers you is tired and rueful, and he straightens back up to start the car as you dislodge your phone from your blazer pocket. 

“It’s Subaru,” you say, apologetically. “He’s asking if we managed to find everything okay.” 

Haku drums his fingers against the steering wheel. The gold of his watch catches the streetlight as he begins to manoeuvre the car out of the parking lot. “Guess that’s our cue to head back.” 

You tap out a short update to Subaru before leaning back into your seat. When you sneak a glance at Haku he is half-lit by the red of the stop light, one hand resting on the top of the steering wheel and the other resting loosely in his lap. 

You bite your lip. “Haku.” 

His eyes flicker to you. 

“Thanks for inviting me to come with you,” you say, quietly. You worry the edge of your phone case with your fingernail. “I know it wasn’t a mission and you could have asked the general students to do it, but it was nice. Spending time outside of Darkwick. With you.” 

Haku’s returning smile is the sort of fond only ever reserved for you; it makes you want to melt into him, gentle, safe, your personal equator. He reaches over to take your hand, carefully tangling his fingers into yours. “You look like you needed it.” 

He gives your hand a squeeze. It squeezes your heart. 

You squeeze back. 

The lights turn green, and you settle into silence. 

Time comes in waves, on the road - you are looking at him, fringe falling into his eyes, then at the twinkle of city life and flash of taillights, then at the way Haku’s fingers have molded themselves into the shape of yours, steady and sure and soft, and then suddenly it is all gone and you are faced with the blank canvas of black road and the expanse of stars above you that you cannot see. 

The car hurtles towards your destination. 

Before Darkwick, you’d bemoaned having to do chores, having to spend time doing supermarket runs, doing laundry, doing paperwork. But now, having had stood in line for wagashi for hours, Haku’s head dipping towards yours in shared secret laughter, having had sprawled out on the floor of Haku’s room, buried in mission briefs and reports, having been pinned against the thrum of your washing machine, cradled between the heat of Haku’s palms— what wouldn’t you give, to do those things with him forever. What wouldn’t you give to wrap around time like this, to repeat your everyday in his company, to spin forever in each others’ orbit like two dust motes from a star that have never been apart. 

Your intertwined fingers flash gold under the passing highway lights. 

In another life, you think, this could be your everyday – white noise on the radio, road humming beneath your feet. Haku humming along, painted in city glow, framed in mundanity. Haku, with his hand in your lap and his name on your lips and his heart in yours. Haku within reach, always. 

“Do I take this exit or the next?” 

Haku’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you squint at the tiny text flashing across the screen to his phone. The words are too small, however, and so you have to somewhat reluctantly let go of Haku’s hand to reach for where it has been propped up as a navigation system on the dashboard. 

His hand drops to your thigh. His palm burns through the grey of your skirt, thumb brushing along its hem. 

“This one,” you say. The pad of his thumb is rough against the bare of your skin. 

You lean forward to set his phone back on its stand. The movement dislodges his hand; as you settle back into your seat he slips it neatly under the hem of your skirt, and gives your inner thigh a squeeze. 

“Haku,” you say, warningly, smiling, and he laughs in surrender. His hand returns to the steering wheel. 

He does not take the exit. 

“Haku–“

“I know,” he says. He glances over at you again. “There’s a place at the next exit I want to show you. You can see the city lights and all, from up there.” 

You hesitate for just a fraction too long, thinking of the report record you’ll have to fill up, and Haku reaches to take your hand in his again. “Just for a little while, I promise. You can just write it up as us taking the wrong exit and losing our way for a couple minutes.” 

God, he’s too persuasive. 

“If you’re going to murder me,” you say, at last, “I won’t tell Darkwick.” 

It pulls another laugh out of Haku, startled and bright, and you lean into it like you’re drinking the sun. 

“You say that like I could ever live without you, princess,” Haku says, grinning at the road. His voice is lighthearted. Neither of you mention the fact that he will soon have to. 

It takes a while to get from the next exit to the top of the small hill that Haku decided upon, but as Haku slides the car headfirst into the parking lot you see why he has chosen it. 

The car park is empty, with only a pair of dim streetlamps at its entrance, but beyond that– oh, beyond that–

The city sprawls out beneath your feet. From this overlook you can see the rise and fall of buildings, dotted with tiny lights that flicker on and off with every movement of your eye. The cars on the highway you left behind crawl like ants to and from their kingdom; the clouds, lit a dim purple from below by the glow of the city, hang low across its occupants. 

How far away you are now, from this life. How far away you will be. 

“I’ve always liked the city lights more than stars,” Haku says, quietly. The soothe of his voice shatters your thoughts into tiny, brilliant pieces the way it always does, rounding their sharp edges into something muted, dull. “People are always going on about stargazing and stuff, you know, but you can barely see them, most of the time.”

You turn to look at him, turn to look at the way his earrings brush the sharp of his jaw. His head is tilted against the headrest, eyes half-closed as he stares out at the cityscape. 

“But every light I see here,” he says, softer, his hand sliding again into your lap, sliding home, “every light in every window is a person. They’re going about their lives and getting their groceries and doing their laundry and thinking about their problems and celebrating their successes and they’re just one in fourteen million people who are doing so.” 

He does not look at you, not yet. His thumb runs along the inside of your thigh, starts a dim burn in the hollow of your spine. “It makes me feel insignificant, sometimes. That I’m just one in fourteen million people who are just struggling along. But then I remember, that out of these fourteen million people, on that one day on that one train at Kisaragi Station, I got to meet you–“ 

They say that gods are invisible, but when Haku half-turns to look at you, then, haloed only in yellow streetlight and dashboard glow, you think you might know what holy is supposed to look like. 

Your own personal angel, with his hand on your thigh and his voice low and tight in his throat like a prayer. With the green of his fringe shaded grey by the night, but with the gold of his eyes glowing bright all the same.

“This life kinda sucks,” Haku murmurs. When he leans in across the console to tip his forehead against yours his breath ghosts across your lips. “But in my next one, I’m hoping that in these fourteen million people, I’ll get to meet you again. And we’ll do whatever we did today together again, but this time every day, again and again, for the rest of our lives.” 

“Haku,” you breathe, but your voice is tangled up in your lungs, and there is a heat behind your eyes that threatens to leak–

But then you are kissing him something soft, sweet, lips on his like you are speaking, praying his words into existence. And he is kissing you back, something yearning and yawning and needy, something shaking and pleading, like he is willing the universe to make it happen; he kisses you like the press of your lips have the power to turn back time, like the curl of his tongue can rewrite your ending. 

When you break away, gasping for shared breath, eyelashes tangled in his and your trembling hand on his hand on your jaw, blinking away your thoughts like stars in the winter, this is what you write into your memory of tonight: 

That if love is a place, perhaps it is in the cup of his palm, in the soft of his laugh. Perhaps it is in the press of Haku’s shaky smile against yours as you pull him in, again and again, kissing him silly in the middle of an abandoned parking lot. Perhaps it is not in the promise of forever, but buried in the cracks of everyday vice-captain and inspector duties, in the minutes he has carved out for the both of you in the moments you have remaining. In the heat of his hand on your inner thigh, in his breath in your lungs, in the unshakable assurance of I’ve-found-you-too-late-in-this-life-but-I-promise-you-I’ll-find-you-in-the-next. 

That if you are sliced open right now, you think, if you erupt into flowers right this moment, you will bleed the same gold that shone in Haku’s eyes that first day on the train, the same gold that shines now whenever he looks at you – all affection and adoration, devoted and devout.