#mushyaaaan

Twice in his life, Rai felt his heart break.

The first time, the sound of rustling bedsheets and creaking floorboards had startled him out a light and restless sleep. The faint light from a guiding leaf somewhere in the hall colored his room in a near-imperceptible green glow, casting shadows that swayed and traveled just as the light did. Rai had gotten out of bed and followed that light, always sneaking a few long strides’ worth of distance behind the beacon of a striped tail that swished and lashed in agitation. He’d followed it out of Bardo’s house and back to the home he’d left behind, through a patch of garden now unkempt and overgrown, past the entryway’s rotting wooden beams and to a room he himself didn’t dare enter again. There was hatred lurking there, he’d heard some adults say when they thought he couldn’t hear. Suffering hung over that place like the miasma hung over Kira.

He’d watched, then, through the door he’d pushed open just a crack, how Bardo held a weathered book and murmured incantations that struck deep at his instinctive fear and contempt of Meigi. A crimson glow had tinted his pale face and silver hair, his pupils drew to needle-thin slits, and he fought to comprehend what he was seeing before wishing he’d stopped short of understanding. Forgetting marked that day, but not where it counted most. The rushing wind in that room had died down when a voice that was neither his nor Bardo’s said something he to this day couldn’t remember—he couldn’t remember anything after that except that Bardo had tried to say something to him and he refused, refused to listen, screaming and clawing and biting to freedom and then running until the winter chill forced his airways to seize up.

He remembered Bardo bringing him down from a high tree branch the next morning. And that he said nothing. And that his heart, haphazardly patched together by a man who tried so hard to be his father, was in pieces, scattered like shards of glass in his chest, slicing open his fingers when he tried to gather them all up again in desperation.

That was the first time. In the years after, he’d never quite succeeded at putting it back together again, only at making do with what he had left.

The second time was more than a decade later, after he and Asato returned to Bardo’s inn to spend some of the money they’d collected for a successful bounty. He sat at the very end of the table, picking at his food after it had gone cold and Asato had finished all of his portion and some of Rai’s (in fairness, he’d asked before taking, and though Rai gave him a look and not a yes, Asato had traveled with him for long enough to know that the former was enough, since he shouldn’t expect the latter). Never a big eater, Rai often stayed just to drown in the atmosphere for a little while, after Konoe had started encouraging him to learn how.

The noisy bustle of the dinner rush was making way for the murmur of late-stayers and hotel guests ordering one last drink before they slept, and for the sound of Asato and Konoe’s conversation beside him, their excited chatter forcibly hushed to just above a whisper. It reminded him of kittens sharing secrets and showcasing their scrapes and bruises. Rai didn’t listen, since he knew as well as Asato did how this story ended—they’d walked that trail and fought that monster together, after all—and he responded to any words of admiration with a shrug, sometimes with a roll of his eye. But where he wasn’t a great listener, he was observant. When Konoe had to bring their chat to an early halt at the call of a guest needing another drink, Rai watched Asato perk his ears and curl his tail as he followed the little Sanga’s movements across the room. He recognized the same excitement and deep, painful longing in Asato’s eyes that he’d seen when he sat together in silence with Asato years ago, tales of weeping moons still ringing in their ears.

Back then, knowing he wasn’t what someone wanted or needed or deserved was routine. His line of work would see him killed sooner rather than later—and Rai would have preferred it if no one shed tears for him. But now, from underneath the viscera he’d splattered over it just to hide the miserable mess he’d made of himself, he felt a familiar ache creep in, and without excusing himself he stood and left the dining room.

~

 “Are you cold?”

If there was one thing Rai still struggled to grasp about Asato, it was this contrast. Not a week earlier, this man had let out a bestial roar and severed a monster’s head from its neck with one mighty swing of his sword, and now he was murmuring to Rai from his own bed, sounding every bit like a child in need of soothing. Rai resisted the impulse to grumble a non-answer and turn his back.

“I’m not.”

-“Your tail is fluffing up.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

For a few moments after, Asato didn’t respond, didn’t insist, which was how Rai always knew him. He knew what to expect next, too—Asato’s sheets rustling and the sound of his feet treading softly over the wooden floor, first from the other corner of the room but steadily coming closer. Asato’s eyes caught the moonlight as he stood at the edge of Rai’s bed, two will-o-wisps floating in the shadows just outside the faint dusting of light the waning moon still cast into the room. Even his presence disappeared into the uneasy quiet of the late-autumn night. A Kiran habit, one Rai hadn’t ever thought to push him to break, but one that now lent itself to an eerie effect. It only lasted until Asato shifted, and Rai saw enough of his face to read its worried expression and its shyness, something he couldn’t have mustered up himself if he tried. Asato had one of his blankets around him still, a personal item gifted to him by Bardo after he’d clawed several tears into it in his sleep. He pulled it tight around his body and took a cautious step closer, turning himself suddenly into a silhouette of blanket and ruffled hair and downturned ears.

Rai rolled onto his side.

“What is it.”

-“I’m a little cold.”

He should have known.

“Some warrior you are, if you can’t handle a little cold.”

-“I can handle it!” Rai caught the bristle in Asato’s fur, but was too tired to point it out to him, as he would have done during the day. If he did, Asato might have hidden it away and denied Rai the private amusement of seeing his companion riled up. “I can. It’s just…”

“Say it.”

Instead of answering, Asato sat at the edge of Rai’s bed, his tail sweeping over Rai’s sheets, betraying that he indeed still had something to say, but needed time to figure out how to say it. Two years ago, Rai wouldn’t have given him that time; he would’ve taken this opportunity to double down, to assert himself in words or to escalate and do so through violence, so that the only one who knew how to safely come between them and settle them down was Konoe. Things had…changed.

“It might be more comfortable if we shared the bed.”

Reflexively, Rai scoffed. Asato’s ears lowered further, nearly flush with his hair.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

-“I think it’s a ridiculous idea.”

“…I see. Then…”

When Asato moved to stand, Rai reached for the first thing he could grab—Asato’s tail—and tugged. Asato wheeled around with a hiss, of course, but his outburst stopped there, a long breath drawn in through his nose causing his shoulders to rise and his chest to puff before he released it again, indignation bitten away by the fang worrying at his bottom lip. His tail remained in Rai’s grasp, tip twitching and curling in vain, before Rai let it go. This time, Asato didn’t move, but his waiting was expectant, like he presumed Rai’s actions had to have a reason. And they did have a reason, but Rai would never say it aloud.

“I said it was a ridiculous idea,” Rai murmured. “Not a bad one.”

To Asato, they must have seemed like the very same, especially since Rai could sneer the word so well, turning up his nose and folding back his ears as he did. But this wasn’t like that. In his words, there was the same sigh he’d breathed the first time Asato reached for his hand after Rai had pulled his glove off, the same exasperation he’d shown when he felt just how much Asato’s hand was trembling and how much his palm sweated, the same awkward attempt at tenderness he’d made when he tried to rub his thumb over Asato’s knuckles.

It was…not warm, in his bed. They didn’t have much room to work with, but for better or for worse, Asato knew how to make himself small. Ultimately, Rai answered Asato’s stuttered attempt at a question by moving further to the edge of his bed, tucking up the very corner of the sheets on the side he’d left empty. Pulling them open entirely would let what little body heat keeping this bed comfortable escape again. And it would look desperate. Goddess forbid.

Asato took the hint just fine—living and traveling together with Rai would make any cat good at taking hints.

Sleeping with another body nestled against him was something Rai still wasn’t wholly accustomed to. They had huddled for warmth before, when snow and sleet struck the temporary hideaway they established for themselves in the middle of the forest, and the fire they managed to get started couldn’t pull much beyond ensuring frostbite wouldn’t set into their fingers and toes. But that was out of necessity. It hadn’t been completely terrible, admittedly, but their aim had been not dying, which left little room to consider how nice this did or didn’t feel. Rai was practical, in that sense. More so than Asato, who lost this contest purely because he’d attempted a passing remark about how Rai’s cheeks looked flushed, which definitely wasn’t conducive to their survival. This felt pointless in comparison, but a sweet kind of pointless, like the wreaths Asato sometimes wove together to share with Tokino and, after a little encouraging, with Rai. Asato’s broad chest was warm against his back, steadily rising and falling, and from deep within it Rai could feel the rumble of his soft, almost inaudible purring.

He couldn’t recall the last time anyone groomed his ears, but he tolerated it from Asato, laying a hand over the other cat’s where it rested on his stomach, basking in their shared warmth until it beckoned him to sleep.

~

Their first mating season was a disaster.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to try this. To kiss and then to touch and then to decide that they’d stay here in bed at least a little while longer, maybe for the rest of the day. Asato’s hands were clumsy and inexperienced, his teeth knocked against Rai’s and caught against his lip when he hadn’t intended it, he was jittery and nervous and passionate enough for the two of them. He was earnest, as he was in all things he did, and over-eager, uncertain what to do with his own body or where to channel all this emotion. Rai had no idea about the latter either.

He had said please so many times. So many times, when he hadn’t needed to ask even once.

Rai accepted him with practiced aloofness, taking those shaking hands and guiding them before letting them go so that they could wander where they wished to. Innately, Asato seemed to know what to do—his hesitation was that of someone handling priceless porcelain, when Rai wanted nothing more than to be shattered, and once the thinking stopped Asato did just that, covering Rai with pink and purple marks and scratches in return for those Rai left on him. They were ruining each other and ruining themselves, but Rai didn’t regret it. He didn’t regret nearly tumbling off the bed when their uncoordinated attempt at rolling over knocked them off-balance, or keening so loudly that Asato had to stop and ask him if he was hurt, or laying his empty chest bare just so Asato could see that what he was falling for was already beyond repair.

Rai, Rai, Rai. Asato had sobbed it in his ear, and for good measure he’d purred it when they collapsed together, exhausted.

A disaster.

~

“Setsura is…somewhere over there.”

Rai nodded towards the north, over the forest that began at Ransen’s borders and stretched all the way to the horizon. Following his line of sight, Asato also looked in that direction, squinting against the chilly breeze that blew up here, between the remnants of skyscrapers.

If Bardo found them up here, on the roof of then inn, sharing between them a pilfered flask of mulled wine, they were sure to get a scolding. From Konoe, of course—Bardo’s old bones had business to attend to elsewhere, and these two bounty hunters were much more inclined to actually listen when it was Konoe chiding them. Or Konoe would sneak up here with them later, to catch a brief rest from the work still to be done, the cleanup after lunch and the preparations for dinner. Time and time again, Asato and Rai took that chance.

Below them, the streets were beginning to come alive. Residents and merchants ignited their lanterns to cast that otherworldly glow Antou was known for, musicians tuned their instruments and played to groups of listeners in the hopes that they might collect a coin or two, masks and dolls made of fabric and leather lined the shops of curio salesmen. Near Bardo’s inn, the owner of a small cart poured ladlefulls of batter over a heated plate to cook up into cakes, to be filled with jam and berries and toasted nuts and sweetened cream. The scent of spices wafted from that cart and from the wooden cups they held onto to warm their hands. No, Antou was not a favorite festival of Rai’s by any means, but Asato seemed to enjoy it, and that was beginning to mean something.

“It’s far,” Asato said after he’d taken a sip of his wine. His gaze was already taking on a distant, dreamy look, but Rai knew he would have to wait for Asato to start humming before he could declare that he was well and truly drunk. “You don’t ever think of going back?”

-“No. Not really. There’s nothing there for me.”

“Ah. I see.”

It must have seemed strange to a Kiran, honor-bound to his pride in his village, that a hometown could hold so little promise anymore.

“I want to go back to Kira.”

-“Hn. Homesick?”

“That’s not it.”

-“Unfinished business?”

“No. Only… I—we’ve been to so many places. And it’s been so long since I’ve seen Kira. It’s changed. Last time I was there, it had already changed. But now I’ve changed, and Kira even more. So I want to go back.”

-“Ah.”

“I want to go back and see.”

He wanted closure.

Rai cast his gaze back north and thought of two standing stones, carved with the emblems that marked them the resting places of esteemed warriors. They must have stood there for going on two decades now.

“I suppose we can take a detour there on our next job.”

For now, Asato only looked wistfully over the cityscape, pausing for a few seconds longer at a vast part in the canopy, a ravine that seemed to cut from the earth onward into the sky. Rai observed him from the corner of his eye, unable to feel jealous of this longing but taking it in for what it was—a strange cat drawn back to his strange home, tasting wanderlust like wine on his tongue.

            They had walked away from the end of the world. Their reward was watching winter turn to spring again. And again.

            Life in Kira budded and bloomed alongside the rest of Sisa, if forever to the beat of its own, secretive drum. The difference wasn’t worth noticing to many cats whose closest contact with the village was the wide arc their path followed around the Valley on their travels southward, the Kirans still the reclusive, stiff, gruff folk they had always been despite the tentative opening of their village doors to outsiders. But to Konoe, who had set foot in Kira when it was still a dark and foreboding place, with an atmosphere as choking and oppressive as the miasma that rose from the foul-smelling rifts in the earth not far from its borders, it was a drastic change. A change for the better.

            After their return—and after he was finished praising Asato in private for what he’d said, because he’d been waiting, wondering if it ever would be said—he was brought to a familiar home, just big enough for the two of them. The same home where he once felt more intruder than houseguest, he thought as he furrowed his brows at the dust that had gathered on every shelf, barrel, and pot. The same home where he’d sat in a corner and warily eyed the ignition branch Asato held, saying nothing, tail curled around his ankles. The same home, and yet only now truly home. For either of them.

            The few new possessions they had to their name were a bed big enough for the two of them and a blanket to ward off the winter cold, now that the Kirans tolerated Asato’s presence enough to offer him the right not to freeze to death if the weather turned especially harsh. Much of it was familiar, and for everything that wasn’t, he had a cat at his side who would trip over his own feet to teach him the whats and wheres and  hows, should he so much as look like he was considering opening his mouth to ask. When they were younger, they had talked about festivals and celebrations too, comparing notes about what used to be their daily lives and finding just as many similarities as they found differences. And though Asato described those in Kira as small and quiet, Konoe couldn’t stifle his curiosity once they’d arrived, with winter so soon approaching.

            Their first winter festival in Kira was a modest happening not unlike what Konoe was used to in Karou. They wove together strings of herbs and flowers that spread their scent through their home and watched Kirans in masks and cloaks pantomime the defeat of winter’s demons. At the end of the night, they were invited to join the rest of the village for a shared meal of game meat and berry mash. Flanked by Kagari, Konoe and Asato sat at the periphery of the group, but the air around them was warm with chatter and a few cats even offered Asato a passing greeting as they walked by. At that moment Konoe, then still an outsider, couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a meal so satisfying.

            The festivals in Kira never did become any grander than that, but there was comfort in the traditions they followed, now that he earned the privilege to be a part of them. Still, while these winters came with fond memories each time, nothing compared to the scale of his first Antou in Ransen. Homesickness wasn’t it, no—but he missed it. Once wasn’t enough to truly enjoy the festival under the best of circumstances, and back then, when he carried the literal weight of the world on his shoulders, a crushing sense of guilt accompanied any temporary enjoyment. He couldn’t leave it alone, this electric drive to move, see, taste, hear; to be overwhelmed again and to welcome it with open arms and pricked ears.

            “It’s alright,” Asato had reassured him when he’d expressed doubts about whether returning to Ransen this year was really okay. “We… I—“

            Asato looked away from him, the tip of his tail twitching. Staying quiet so as not to interrupt him, Konoe leaned forward and brushed his tail against his Touga’s arm, encouraging him to continue.

            “There’s a lot of the world out there. Outside of Kira. And that was…my first time too, experiencing a festival like that.” Their first time. City cats must have scoffed at how astounded they were by it all—Rai certainly did, but Rai would scoff at anything.

            “It was a lot to look at. A lot of noise. But it was okay so long as you were there, Konoe. I have good memories, too.” Konoe caught a trace of a smile and relief washed over him, exiting him in a soft sigh. Asato nodded, as if to himself. “I’d like to go back too.”

            Konoe mouthed a thank you to him and thought back, ever so briefly, to the sight of little strings of colored flags fluttering like flower petals overhead, stirred by the incoming winter chill.

            Entering Ransen after spending two days trudging through the Valley and then through the woods, being given ample time to grow accustomed to seeing nothing but the skeletons of trees and hearing little beside the crunch of dead leaves underfoot and the calls of birds overhead, was enough to knock the breath out of a country cat on any ordinary day. But on Antou—the first day, when they arrived—it was a contrast almost impossible to fathom. The sounds of the city reached them long before they could see its strange, angular skyline rise over the treetops, but once they stepped through the gates and into the hustle and bustle of the city and its festival, it enveloped them, forbidding them from thinking of anything else. Asato held Konoe’s hand a little tighter and Konoe nodded, standing where he was and watching as Asato’s ears twitched and swiveled to the whirlwind of noise.

            He needed a minute. Really, they both did.

            Only after the tense shadow had faded from Asato’s features did Konoe pull gently at his hand, taking two steps to urge Asato to take just one, and soon they were in the middle of Antou, just like the hundreds, thousands of cats who had come for the same reason they did. The mood had that eerie undertone he recalled from before, horned masks glaring from peddlers’ stalls and the songs of bands occasionally slipping into minor keys, but the enthusiasm of the crowd was infectious. Soon, he was smiling, and that was all Asato needed to start smiling too.

            Later, in the hours of early dusk, they’d make their way to Bardo’s inn. It was a reliable address whenever they were in Ransen and needed to stay the night. Even if Bardo couldn’t squeeze them in a room like he usually did, owing to the enormous crowd now filling the city, Konoe hoped to find a place for himself and Asato at the dinner table. Perhaps, he thought with a glance towards his Touga at his side, they’d even be lucky enough to find Rai there too.

            Chatting late into the night and catching up with everyone seemed like a small price to pay for having to play mediator between Rai and…just about everyone else. Weird as it was, he’d missed that too.

            “Konoe.”

            He stopped when Asato called his name—had to, since Asato had come to a halt whether Konoe himself was going to keep walking or not. Asato’s eyes were fixed on a stall, his ears attentive. Following his gaze, Konoe found his own interest drawn just as much to the foods he saw on offer there: steamed buns filled with meat or nuts, fruit and flowers in syrup, little tidbits of fried dough covered in glaze, everything calling all the more enticingly after their travel left them relying on the plain staples he’d packed in his knapsack. Food and Antou combined struck an alarm bell somewhere in him, however, and before he could remember that little situation he’d found Asato and his stolen grilled meat in during their very first time here, Asato had moved again.

            “Ah, wait–!”

            They each had their unfounded worries.

            Just as Asato would fret and fret and fret some more, however understandably, over Konoe’s right arm, Konoe would at times underestimate just to what extent Asato had learned about the ways life worked outside of Kira. Just now, Asato hadn’t moved to swipe something from the stand and bail, but to pull a leather coin purse off his belt, procuring a handful of irregular copper pieces he’d earned for his work assisting the peddlers who visited Kira. Konoe held his breath for a moment, as if waiting for the worst to happen after all, then exhaled, somewhat embarrassed at his own reaction. Asato, however, didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. Quite the contrary; after the initial confusion, his expression softened reassuringly, and he quietly showed Konoe the coins for good measure, after he’d counted them out.

            “Let me pay for half,” Konoe objected while Asato already handed him his share of the bounty: a rolled and flaky pastry filled with berries and practically dripping with syrup.

            Asato shook his head. “It’s my turn this time, Konoe.”

            “Then…” Konoe looked down at his pastry. Syrup had dripped down his fingers, almost to his wrist. “Then here.”

            He held his share out to Asato, who eyed it without flinching. Only then did he see that Asato had bought himself something quite different, something that made him sputter without speaking—kadil was a favorite treat in Ransen, that was true, but he was very sure that Asato should’ve held on to the bowl he was served the fruit in rather than pour the entire sticky mess into his palms.

            “Asa—“ Honestly, who was he to talk? They’d both need to find a place to tuck away and groom after this, and he couldn’t berate Asato when he himself looked equally ridiculous. “We’ll clean you up later, but first… You paid for this, so I want you to have the first bite.”

            Asato’s gaze moved from the pastry to his own kadil. Konoe knew his cheeks were turning bright red.

            “Please?”

            “If you’re sure…”

            Leaning forward, Asato set his teeth into the pastry and took a modest bite, chewing thoughtfully when he pulled back. The syrup was shiny on his lips. Konoe felt his face grow hotter still.

            “It’s good,” Asato remarked, and that was about all Konoe could expect him to say about it. “But the rest is for you.”

            Konoe was in no mood to argue, not when the syrup trailing down Asato’s forearm now threatened to reach his elbow and stain the sleeve of his shirt.

            Despite that, neither of them could be pushed to any semblance of hurrying while they ate, nor did they try to find a quiet spot where they could enjoy their treats in peace, preferring to eat where they stood at the side of the stall, spurred on by the appetizing scents wafting from a fresh batch of fruit tarts. If he could, Konoe thought with a small smile, Asato might have bought the entire stall empty. He wondered, too, if Asato still felt remorse for the frustration he’d caused Konoe years ago. Time and time again he’d reassured him that everything was properly dealt with, and that he was satisfied to have resolved it by buying off the stolen food for them to share, but it was clear to him from the very start that it wasn’t about the food. It was about the principle of it—Asato didn’t know, had never known, and in not knowing he’d caused Konoe trouble. This, then, was more than paying back an owed debt, as it was never a debt at all. Konoe had his victories in scaling the branches of ever-taller trees, Asato had his in counting out the coins he’d earned and presenting Konoe with something purchased, just as any other cat would purchase it.

“He will notice” Konoe thought.

Of course he would. But even if it was like that… he just… needed a moment.

The snow, which had fallen just a moment ago, softened the noise of his footsteps while he walked. Although it made his movements quieter, Konoe was aware that his shoes left traces on the ground. And he would probably follow them when he noticed. Konoe didn’t care. Clearing them would take a lot of time, as well as effort and energy. And he had none of those.

So he just walked. At first, he was out of the house, and after a moment, he was out of the village. He was now into the valley. But he walked even further. Where the evergreen forest would shelter him. Maybe.

Konoe had no clear objective in his mind. There was nowhere in particular where he wanted to go. He just held his arms closer to himself and kept walking. After a while, he just collapsed next to a big tree and looked up to the sky…

The Moon of Night was on its zenith. The stars were hidden behind grey clouds, making it difficult to catch a glimpse of light through them. The snow had stopped for a moment, but the air still felt so cold as if it could fall again at any second. And Konoe didn’t bring a coat with him. His skin, as well as his fur, felt really cold. He, most probably, would catch a fever later… But, right now, that felt so trivial… Why should he care about a little fever right now?

He sat down, and drew his knees closer to his chest as he hugged them tightly. He tried to slow down his breath or to gather a little bit of warmth before… you know…

Crying…

“Damn it” he thought. It was useless for him to try to suppress the tears… His body, already shivering because of the cold, now trembled and shook even more than before, while sobs started to flow from his worn-out throat. And every time the cold breeze brushed him once again, his claws would plunge deeper inside his skin…

It hurt. But he didn’t know what hurt the most.

His claws ripping his skin… or this sorrow pouring like a torrent out of him…

But the cause didn’t matter, did it? It just hurt, and it didn’t stop.

It was the same as…

Konoe didn’t think that those memories would still be that fresh in his head… He had this little bit of hope that he could, just… just maybe ignore the icy tears falling from the sky, and don’t mind the image of the death that seemed terribly vivid in his mind. But, the memories were there. Memories of a horrible scene where all he knew had been… crippled.

And Leaks’ emotions made this worse. To remember Karou, all those dead bodies, the image of the Void taking over everything; it was all already painful, but there were also now, inside of him, images of other bloody catastrophes he had made. And everything overwhelmed Konoe’s heart until the pain was unbearable. He needed a moment to release it somehow. Even if it meant that the tears he’d shed would freeze when they fell to the ground.

He expected to have a moment of solitude. But he’d most definitely notice. He lived with Asato, after all. If he didn’t find him in their home, Asato would search for him. And if he found him in this state…

Konoe always shared these sorrowful moments with him. He was the only one who knew the burden that Konoe bore upon his shoulders and he always helped him to lessen the charge. But, even if it was like that, this time Konoe didn’t search for him. What would he think of this? What would he say? If he found him in this state… would a barrier raise in the middle of them?

He didn’t want to think of the answer. He didn’t want to understand himself either. Why was he here, alone? Why didn’t he call out for help? Was it just something done out of stupidity or out of a reckless action? It probably was the latter. Because he trusted Asato… right? He trusted him. He trusted him and he would tell him everything that happened to him. He was just acting careless this time and he had run out alone because of it.

He did trust Asato… right?

Why did he even doubt it? He was… just… There were so many emotions inside of him, his thoughts weren’t clear anymore. Did he actually doubt his faith in Asato? Why? It made no sense. Asato had always taken care of him in the past, whenever he needed to cry or to laugh out loud. He was always there. But now Konoe was out in the snow, alone, not because Asato had left him by himself, but because he’d gotten out of the house on his own. And he both expected and didn’t want Asato to find him. What was happening to him? Why were his emotions doing this to him?

He had lost track of time, and just stayed there for god knows how long. A lot of different ideas came to his mind, none of them related to the next one, but it was sure that he was over thinking everything. And it was cold. So cold, his body couldn’t stop shivering. His throat felt sore and he couldn’t feel his hands or his claws anymore. It felt so, so cold, like even his blood was freezing inside his veins…

And then, steps. Close to him. Konoe didn’t need to raise his head to know who it was.

— Konoe… — Asato called him. — Are you okay?

Konoe didn’t move a muscle. He… couldn’t. He felt ashamed.

— Can you walk? — He asked. — Let’s go home…

Was he able to walk? Maybe he was actually frozen and he’d die in moments, anyway. He couldn’t even feel himself, but he did feel something else. Something big, heavy and warm on his shoulders… Was this Asato’s cape?

— Let’s go home. — He said, as he lifted Konoe in his arms.

Konoe was about to protest. “I don’t… need to be carried…” he thought. He was able to walk… right? But, actually, he didn’t feel his legs properly… he didn’t feel anything properly. Just… Asato’s warmth. His heartbeat, really near his ear… His arms around his back and under his knees…

His heart still hurt. Everything still hurt a lot; his eyes, his palms, his body… his heart… but… What was this “but”? “He is here now, so it feels more familiar”? “Now it feels warmer”? It… It didn’t feel like any of those at that moment. It felt… Konoe couldn’t name what he felt in that moment.

But Asato was there. That was for sure…

———————————————–

They arrived home. Asato knew Konoe disliked fire, but he still asked if he could make one because Konoe was freezing cold. Konoe tried to go against it but… his clothes were frozen, his skin most probably was swollen and his shivering didn’t come to an end. Asato always tried to avoid doing things that Konoe would dislike, but, this time, he needed fire. The sooner, the better.

So he lit a little fire in the corner of the room. He knew enough how to control the fire so it wouldn’t grow too much, but it still was efficient enough to quickly warm up the room. After that, Asato removed Konoe’s frozen clothes and laid him on bed, with a lot of blankets covering him. It felt like… a little too much. But Konoe let Asato do as he wanted. He knew he needed to warm up, and… He didn’t have the energy to oppose him.

The tears had stopped falling a while ago. And his heart didn’t feel that heavy anymore. His emotions had finally started to settle down… while his body… well, it didn’t run with the same luck. He was starting to feel his skin again —thankfully—, but, with the feeling came a lot of pain. Just trying to move his fingers triggered a horrible feeling, like that crawling sensation he got when his limbs go numb, but ten thousand times worse. There were some parts of his skin that felt like there were needles inside, and they were trying to get out. It was a hell of a lot of pain. Regaining sensibility was never a pleasure.

— Are you okay? —Asato asked. Maybe he had noticed the troubled expression on Konoe’s face.

Konoe had a little bit of a sore throat, but he managed to finally tell him. — I think I will be. After a nap, maybe…

That didn’t sound realistic, not even Konoe believed his own words. Just a moment ago, he was covered in snow and freezing himself out there. And his desire to make this deal look trivial deepened Asato’s concerned face.

— Konoe…

“Damn…” Konoe thought. “What should I say now…?”

— Um… —he tried to turn around inside the bed but he only ended up tangling himself even more with the many blankets. — Where… where did you go before?

— Eh? —Asato was apparently taken aback by the question, apparently. He sat down just beside Konoe. — Um… I went to see the Elder. There were some things he wanted to talk about with me. Why?

— … No particular reason. I was just curious.

Earlier that day, when the snow had started falling over the village, bringing with it all of the sad memories to his mind, Konoe had tried collecting some fruits and nuts to calm his mind, and when he had come back, Asato wasn’t at home. He couldn’t bear the loneliness and had run away. Now he knew the reason why Asato wasn’t at home… But it felt like a minimal detail, thinking back on it. In fact, in the back of his mind, that was probably an excuse for him running away like he had done. And now… It seemed like something very distant. Like something that wouldn’t change anything anymore, if he were to bring it up in their discussion.

— Konoe… —Asato called him. — Can I ask you something?

“I know what you’re going to ask…” — What is it?

— Um… Why were you outside?

“I knew it” Konoe thought. It was obvious. And now, what should he say? He couldn’t come up with a lie that would seem remotely believable. But should he say the truth? Where could he even start to tell it? It was always so hard to say what he felt. To make sense of what he had inside without letting his emotions take over. And it was so hard to tell him that, this time, Konoe didn’t reach for Asato for help. Seriously, where should he start?

— I was… —Konoe coughed a little and Asato gave him a cup of water, but Konoe refused it. — I was… crying.

Silence. Heavy silence. Usually, he and Asato didn’t need to speak much. But this one was a heavy and uncomfortable kind of silence. A silence that begged to be broken but… Asato didn’t seem to be able to do it right now. His expression was one of true sadness. Like he couldn’t believe that Konoe was crying… alone.

— Why? —he finally asked. He extended his hand to caress Konoe’s cheek, as if he were wiping the tears that weren’t there anymore.

— I’m… The… —Konoe stuttered. He felt something building up in his chest again. — The snow. It reminds me of… of… —he seemed to stop breathing for a second. — The snow reminded me of the day we went to Karou and everyone was… and everything was…

He couldn’t say anything else. He felt that if he said more, he would start crying again and he felt like it was enough for a single night. So he stopped speaking. He averted his gaze looking anywhere else than Asato’s eyes. Even the fire seemed more calming, and he didn’t like it at all. He felt really ashamed. And weak. And stupid. Everything felt so messed up…

But then, he felt something, touching his hair. It felt soft, as it sweetly caressed him… Asato’s hand warmly stroked his head. It was a tender gesture, something that he usually did when he tried to… console him. It wasn’t a gesture that said “Get better soon”, “I’m so sorry to hear that”; it just said “I’m here.” And, weirdly enough… that always made him feel better. To feel that touch telling him that Asato was just right there. For him…

Asato kept stroking his hair. And with a soft tune Asato sang for him… everything felt so calm, and Konoe couldn’t help but to fall asleep in that comfortable warmth.

———————————————–

When he woke up, his body didn’t feel sore anymore. His throat still ached a little bit, but it was nothing compared to how it had been feeling before he’d fallen asleep. The house felt really warm, even if the fire was now extinguished. And Asato’s hand felt even warmer.

Had he stayed there all the time that he’d been sleeping? Just to stroke his hair? His mind was still mildly blurry, but even like that, the idea seemed unreal. How long had Konoe slept? And how long had Asato remained there in the same position? Weren’t his legs asleep?

— Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up? —Asato asked, concern falling over his features.

Konoe sat up and looked at Asato. With his eyes adjusting to the light of dusk, he noticed some ice patches attached to Asato’s clothes. And his cheeks were also a little bit flushed.

— No, not really. —Konoe rubbed his eyes a little bit. — Why would you have?

— Ah, I just came in and you woke up when I touched your cheek. I thought I had woken you up.

— You just came in? —well, that made sense; he was covered in snow. — What were you doing outside?

Asato just smiled a little bit. — Please put on a coat. I want to show you something.

A surprise? That choice of words most probably meant a surprise. Konoe didn’t understand immediately, but he started to put on his clothes anyway. His other clothes were still wet, therefore unusable outside, so he picked a clean string shirt and a sweater, with another pair of pants he had, and put his black cloak over his shoulders when he was ready to go. Asato stood up too, and put on his cloak too, after making sure the fire was totally extinguished and everything was okay.

— What do you want to show me?

— It is outside. You will see it.

Asato opened the door and both of them got out. It wasn’t snowing anymore, but there was still a white blanket covering the Yuukoku Valley and beyond. Some people were outside; most of them just doing daily chores, and a couple of kids getting to their own businesses. The soft light of the evening coloured everything with soft orange and blue tonalities, while the breeze raised some lost snowflakes to fly again over the field. It was almost unbelievable. Kira had never experienced a winter like this; so lively, so beautiful, so colourful… It felt curious. But it also felt like home.

And what Asato wanted Konoe to see, it didn’t take too long for him to notice it. It was snow. But… this snow stood out from the rest of it. It was a couple of piles of snow, with some pebbles embed here and there, with some branches poking out of the sides, and noses made of carrots.

Snowmen. Two of them; one slightly taller than the other one, and with their branches entwined, as if they were holding hands. They had happy faces made with pebbles.

— They are… us. —Asato said, with a smile on his lips.

Konoe was… astonished, to say the least. That’s why Asato was covered in ice; he had been outside, making this… snowmen couple. He walked closer to them to watch them in detail. The shorter one had a scarf on it and the taller one had a little hat. Konoe couldn’t help it but to smile. It was such a cute thing to see.

— They’re adorable. —Konoe said, while poking the tip of the short one’s carrot nose with his finger.

— I… —Asato said besides him. — I know that snow doesn’t bring you the best memories.

Konoe stopped his movements. Both of them looked at each other. “Why… is he saying that, all of a sudden?” Konoe asked himself.

— I know snow may not bring you good memories. — Asato repeated. — That’s why… I wanted you to have at least one. Something you will remember when you see snow and… that will make you feel happy when you remember it.

…

Konoe didn’t know what to say. He just stared into those deep blue eyes, observating the emotions on Asato’s face. A soft smile, sparkly eyes, flushed cheeks, everything… Everything said and repeated over and over the same words: “I love you.” It was a river of emotions that flowed deep inside Konoe. But this time, it wasn’t painful. He didn’t feel like he was drowning. He wanted to feel it more. He wanted to embrace those warm, happy emotions with all of his might.

Konoe grinned. A tear fell down his cheek. And he threw himself into Asato’s arms with so much strength that they both fell on the snow beside the snowmen.

This was a little gesture from Konoe to Asato, and the snowmen were a little gesture from Asato to Konoe. But there was so much love coming from them, from Asato’s chest, it didn’t feel little anyhow. It made Konoe laugh with so much joy because Asato loved him. He loved Konoe so much; he wanted him to have a little happy memory to fight the bad ones. He wanted Konoe to be happy in the snow and he had made two snowmen for that. Konoe appreciated that so much… So much… He was drowning in happiness and he didn’t want these feelings to stop.

— Y-You’re crying… —Asato said, anxiety rising into his features. Maybe he thought he’d done something wrong, but things were completely different to Konoe’s eyes.

— Yeah. But I’m happy. I’m really happy right now.

Asato’s expression relaxed again, because he loved Konoe’s smile from the bottom of his heart. And every time he saw him smiling… then it meant everything was okay. — I see. Did you like it?

Konoe just shut his eyes and smiled. This needed no answer. At least, not one that could be expressed with words. He just shut his eyes and drew his face closer to Asato’s, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. Asato closed his eyes too and embraced Konoe with all his might too.

A tender kiss, full of these emotions none of them tried to ever shut down.

A tight hug, where their bodies connected to the point of synchronizing heartbeats.

A sweet moment, where they both forgot about the whole other world for a second.

They didn’t even realize they were in public until something hit Konoe on the back of his head. Cold and not that soft, a snowball had hit him in the head and they were forced to come back to reality as snow spread all over their faces. What had just happened?

— Hey, you two! —Kagari called them. — Are you going to continue your little scene? Because I’m going to throw you a lot of snowballs until you get inside your house to keep up what you’re doing.

Both Asato and Konoe felt their cheeks burn with in embarrassment, and they both stood up to apologize. But Kagari didn’t seem to accept their apologies so easily, so she threw another snowball, and in no time, Asato and Konoe were playfully throwing snowballs her, and to each other as well. Should be said, Konoe wasn’t a very precise shooter, but and Asato didn’t make any effort to avoid the ones that were most probably directed to him.

The snow war continued for a long while. Every time one of them got hit by a snowball, the other two laughed out loud, and every time someone got to avoid a snowball, it felt like a small triumph to them. Had Kagari planned to drag them into a snow war? Who knows, but it had happened anyway, and she seemed to be having a lot of fun with it. Asato, at first, seemed to be very shy about it, but when Konoe told him that it was okay to throw snowballs, since it was a game, he gained enough confidence, and ended up being the final winner of the war.

For Konoe… it felt good. Playing with Asato, spending time with Kagari; it felt good. It felt like he was home; like he was just where he needed to be. The snow was cold, and in the form of a ball it could hurt a bit when thrown onto someone’s body. But it held memories and feelings Konoe was unable of ignoring.

Those memories used to be hurtful. Those feelings used to drown him and to torture him. But… it was hard to feel bad about it now, when you had such a sweet gift from the one you loved, a fun time in a snow war with your friends… your family… and when you were trying to defeat the cold by cuddling with the best cat to have ever existed.

— Thanks. —said Konoe.

— Why? —asked Asato.