Five Days of Fire Flowers - Chapter 1: Red Oni, Blue Oni
Summary: The spring of love has finally begun blooming in Inazuma, but longtime friends and rivals, Arataki "The One and Oni" Itto and the town's sweetheart, Naganohara Yoimiya, seem to be the only ones who think nothing of the change. After all, those umeboshi competitions, near-death encounters, and complicated silences they've been sharing more and more often, don't really mean anything.. do they?
“And then I sent the jerk flying– right down into the dirt!”
“But Mister Itto– didn’t it hurt?”
“Ha ha! A little pain isn’t going to stop someone like me, y’see, I’m The Pride of all Oni kind!”
Arataki Itto puffed out his chest at the compliment and flashed a toothy grin at the kids that flocked to him eagerly.
They were sitting right outside the shrine of Inazuma City, near the grassy plains with the cherry-blossom trees in full bloom, safely away from the watchful eyes of the Tenryou Commission.
Itto had challenged a certain fireworks expert to a duel to win the hearts of Inazuma’s children and the spunky blonde had picked Storytelling to be their weapon of choice this time. Whosoever told the best tale was considered the winner.
He regaled them with his latest adventures fighting a group of bandits by Musuo Blade Canyon, sure of his victory; there was no way Yoimiya could beat him when it came to exciting encounters, she may stir them with her little sparklers or whatever, but he had the grit and scars to show for his various battles with opponents far stronger and more renowned than he. And it seemed to be working, at first.
The three little ones, Matsuzaka, Iwao and sweet Saika, looked absolutely enthralled by his tale, their earlier fears forgotten as they ran their tiny fingers over his mace and Itto turned his smirk on the blonde perched on the bough of a nearby tree, swinging her feet and awaiting her turn.
The Naganohara heir met his smile with a wicked one of her own and jumped down from her place, dusting off her orange kimono as she did.
“Won’t hold it against ‘cha if ya just admit defeat now, Sparkie,” he grinned as she passed him,
“No shame in losing to someone more superior, after all.”
“Appreciate the offer,” Yoimiya said wryly as she resumed seat on a large stone opposite to him, “–but I wouldn’t be so quick to count my chickens yet, Arataki-san.”
“You haven’t even heard my story yet!”
“Yoimiya’s telling us a story!” Iwao gasped, immediately looking up.
“Yoimiya’s stories are the best!”
“Which one is it going to be this time? The Fire Diamond again?” Saika asked excitedly, turning to her friends.
Itto tried not to huff in irritation as the kids abandoned him to huddle under Yoimiya’s rock expectantly; whatever it was, it couldn’t be as good as single-handedly taking on a group of electro Kairagi warriors to protect a village.
“No, today’s special,” she began, crossing her legs, “So I’ve got a new one for you. It’s called Red Oni, Blue Oni.”
The children collectively turned back to give him a surprised look. Itto felt a strange sense of deja-vu pass over him and found himself refusing to meet their eyes. He knew the story of course, it was one of the very first stories he’d learned growing up.
“Nope,” Yoimiya winked, “These were very different oni. They used to live in the mountains of Liyue, far, far away from Inazuma, back when the Archons first roamed Teyvat.”
“Once upon a time, almost 2000 years ago, two oni friends lived in a cave, high up in the mountains above a small human settlement. One had red skin, the colour of Dendrobium flowers, and the other blue, like the sky.”
The children leaned in close, already invested.
“The Red Oni really wanted to befriend his neighbours, so he tried his best to accommodate them; he laid out sweets they liked, invited them to his cave, even tried to help them with their things a few times, but they all ran away screaming when they saw his face.”
Itto couldn’t help but get swept up into the story too as Yoimiya began gesturing animatedly, using her hands to describe what was going on.
“The humans were all very terrified of the two friends, you see, it was a time of great strife among their community and they didn’t trust each other, much less the oni who looked very different from them; so they would curse or throw beans at him if he got too close to the village.”
“That’s not fair!” Matsuzaka cried outraged, leaping to his feet, “They shouldn’t be mean just because of something stupid like that!”
The other two nodded sternly.
“Ah, ah,” the storyteller wagged her finger in his direction and shook her head, “Remember how you all were afraid of Mister Itto when he first came to Inazuma?”
“You thought he was the Great Mujina Yokai, here to steal you away from your homes, didn’t you?”
Itto snorted and the children flushed guiltily; Matsuzaka sat back down without protest.
“Fear makes people do stupid things,” Yoimiya continued kindly, jumping back into the story, “–and the Red Oni knew this, so he would never hold it against them when they rejected his friendship. But he never gave up trying to win them over either.”
“One day, the Blue Oni had just about enough of watching his friend get constantly rejected and devised a plan to help him gain the humans’ trust. I’ll pretend to attack the village, he said, and you stop me. The Blue Oni knew that humans loved heroes more than they feared them, and smartly decided to take advantage of this for his friend’s benefit.”
“A terrible plan if you ask me–“ Itto interrupted, snarling, he knew how the rest of the story went and couldn’t help himself but the kids shushed him immediately.
“So they executed the plan, and it worked!” She didn’t falter, much to their delight.
“The Blue Oni stomped his way into the town and began burning down a few houses, taking care not to hurt any of the people on the way, of course. The Red Oni pretended to intervene and chase his friend all the way back up the mountain, finally earning the approval of the humans. Once he returned, they brought him into their homes and celebrated his victory by feeding him and bringing him gifts to show their thanks, eagerly accepting his invitations to come over as soon as possible! In fact, the Red Oni became so popular that even other villages heard of his brave exploits and humans journeyed all the way to the mountain just to meet him!”
Itto furrowed his brows; this version was a little different from what he’d grown up hearing. Yoimiya caught his eye and winked, as if they shared some kind of secret.
“But wait– what happened to the Blue Oni?” Saika asked suddenly, looking up at the storyteller.
“Excellent question!” Yoimiya replied cheerily, not missing a beat, “Well since the Red Oni had so many friends coming over he moved into a new cave, with a super secret entrance that only a few people knew about. He wasn’t as fond of humans as his friend, preferring to sit inside and read instead, so he spent the rest of his days like that, happy to see that the Red Oni was happy too.”
“But they still stayed friends?” Saika pressed, leaning forward.
“Forever and ever!” She affirmed, soothing the little girl’s troubled expression by adding, “They never stopped being friends, no matter what! The End!”
“Now– time for the results! Whose story was better?”
The children turned each other excitedly, ready to discuss the stories and give their final verdict.
“Hey, wait a minute!“ Itto interrupted again, now he was sure there must be some kind of mistake.
“That’s not how it MMPFH–“
Yoimiya was on him immediately, covering his mouth with her hands to stop him from saying anymore. He nearly toppled over with surprise at her action, but caught himself just in time, regaining his balance just long enough to hear her whisper-shout Don’t into his ear. He met her alarmed eyes with borderline confusion that steadily bled into understanding.
Iwao, Saika and Matsuzaka gave them a weird look but didn’t think much of it, more invested in debating the victor instead. After a few tense seconds, during which she still refused to take her hands off his face, the children came to a decision.
“Yoimiya won this round,” Iwao declared seriously, the other two nodding alongside him, “Mister-Itto’s story was good too but hers was a little bit better.”
“MMPFH!” The half-oni pleaded his case, but his captor beamed a brilliant white smile and mercilessly shooed them away.
“Well, now that’s settled, you children better be heading back to your parents. It’s getting dark and you don't want to miss the fireworks show, do you?”
The children exchanged a startled glance and looked up to see the red sun setting into the horizon.
“Buh-bye, Mister-Itto! Bye, Yoimiya!”
As the three waved their goodbyes and ran home, Itto shot a sideways glance at Yoimiya, who waved back happily, completely unaware that her other hand was dangerously close to his demon-teeth.
“Precious little things aren’t they?” She smiled, watching Saika’s head disappear past the green outcropping.
Itto pretended to bite her arm, playfully nipping at the edge of her fingers with his fangs and she yelped and jumped backwards, more out of shock than pain.
“Don’t be such a sore loser, Arataki-san!”
“Yeah, yeah. Ya got me today Sparkie, but it won’t be so easy next time.”
“You say that every time, and still haven’t managed to beat me once,” Yoimiya stuck out her tongue but he frowned in return, his mind still on the story.
“Why’d ya lie to ‘em anyway?” He asked, uncharacteristically serious for once, “It doesn’t end like that, y’know.”
“Is it really lying if I just happen to forget a few small details here and there?” She joked, still bouncing on the balls of her feet, but slowed down a little when he looked away, his arm subconsciously tightening on the hilt of his mace.
“Arataki-san? Is everything alright?”
“Hmm,” He rumbled in assent, but his red eyes were clouded with memory.
Itto first heard the story when he was ten, sitting in grade school with all the other village kids, and had memorised the way it had ended.
The truth was that once the Red Oni gained the humans’ trust, they declared him the saviour of their village and would rely on him for everything. He helped them out at first, feeling guilty about the broken homes, but soon found himself unable to leave the villagers at all; there was always more work, always more guilt and always someone left to help.
One day, when he’d found a little time for himself, he snuck away and up the mountain to the cave he shared, only to find it dusty, like no one had lived there for days. A letter awaited him on their little table and once he’d read it, the Red Oni couldn’t stop crying.
The letter was from the Blue Oni, it said: Hello, Old Friend. You have not been back in days so I hope this finds you in good health. I have decided to go on a journey far, far north and I pray you will not come looking for me when I do. You finally have the love of the humans, which you so greatly deserve, but love is a fickle thing and I fear you may lose it if you’re seen with me again; the Evil One. Do not worry for me, I shall manage as I always have, but I hope it’s not selfish of me to ask that you keep me in your memory still. I shall always be thinking of you too. Sincerely, Your Friend.
Itto remembered the way everyone around him either erupted into tears, or gaped around in dazed confusion, like they couldn’t fully grasp what was happening.
Even his teacher had looked a little misty-eyed, dabbing at her cheeks with a white napkin, but he knew at once that none of them truly understood what the story meant. Sacrifices couldn’t change the past. The Red Oni only had their respect so long as he could protect the humans.
He involuntarily narrowed his eyes. Monsters were only loved as long as they were useful.
“Itto?” A feather-light touch on his forearm slipped him out of the memory, and he found himself blinking as two gold eyes, like moons, looked up at him from under a head of choppy blonde hair.
Yoimiya wrinkled her nose, stood up and bumped his shoulder with her hip pointedly so she could sit beside him. He obediently scooted to the side to make space for her and she gave him a small smile as she took her place.
The once-pink sky now bruised a quiet shade of blue and a faint hum of anticipation hung in the air. The fireworks show would start soon.
Only when Yoimiya leaned her head against his forearm did Itto realise she’d been speaking.
“–didn’t want to spoil their fun,” she sighed, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear, “They didn’t need to know about all the sad bits with everything that’s already going on. The vision hunt decree’s got a lot of folks down and confused, it’s a miracle these kids haven’t lost their energy in the fuss.”
“Huh.” Itto raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought of it like that.
“And besides-” she peeked up at him mischievously, “-who’s to say the story doesn’t end there anyway?”
“It doesn’t!” Itto puffed, insistent, “It ends when the Red Oni finds the letter, even an idiot could tell ya that much.”
“Stubborn as ever,” Yoimiya made a face and reached out to poke his cheek, “Don’t be so bullish, Arataki-san, use your imagination! Isn’t there any other ending you can think of?”
He let her prod at his face as he pondered the question; this was a normal occurrence between the two of them.
He’d challenge her to a duel, she’d find some roundabout way to best him, and then she’d go on to break all boundaries between them like they were best friends, even though he’d only known her for a few months at most.
When Itto had first arrived in the Hanamizaka District in Inazuma, the locals had been wary to say the least. If seeing an oni was rare, seeing a half-human one was even rarer, and he couldn’t hide the glaring red horns peeking out of his stark silver hair, though the horrified stares he garnered grew with each time he came out in public.
Not that he would either way– Itto had leaned into the half-demon persona with gusto; leaving the red birthmarks on his face, chest and arms on full display and only making the occasional attempt to tame his wild mane– which brought its own set of problems.
Vendors would run from him when he tried to buy food, tripping over their carts in fear; priestesses would avert their eyes and pray to the Electro Archon for salvation and even the guards on patrol had a wary hand on their blades every time he passed, like they were waiting for him to snap and attack.
He was used to it. Though born and brought up in Inazuma, he’d been outcasted for his heritage most of his life, to the point where the gasps of shock no longer bothered him. They would all change their tune soon enough.
It was the same in every district, the locals would be horrified by his presence until they saw him punishing a wicked landlord or catching a bandit or defying some other injustice they’d been putting up with, and then the tables would turn instantly; he’d be hailed as a hero.
Itto soon disregarded the opinions of people around him completely and let his strong moral compass do the talking– the culprits would take one look at his glowing yellow vision and the club slung over his shoulder and would admit defeat almost immediately.
Unfortunately, he lost his vision right after that so it made the aforementioned talking, among other things, a lot more difficult.
He’d challenged the general of the Tenryou Commission, Kujou Sara, to a duel and got his ass handed to him; she’d taken his pride and his power, refusing to respond to his demands for a rematch and leaving him with bottled up frustration that had him using his fists to settle matters instead, sending him to jail more and more often.
That was where he’d first met Yoimiya.
“Arataki-san? Did you fall asleep?”
Itto opened one eye to find her unabashedly pulling his cheek now, any pretense of decorum between them forgotten. Though it seemed that everyone else in Inazuma had inherited an intense fear of demon-kind, that particular gene seemed to have slipped the Naganohara heir this generation.
Yoimiya was one of the few brave or foolish, (he’d yet to decide), ones that would voluntarily spend time with him, who wasn’t part of his gang– though not for lack of trying on his part.
“Yoi-chan–“ He began, but she already knew what was coming.
“No, Arataki-san, I’m not going to join your little club,” she huffed and let go of his face immediately.
“Gang. The Arataki Gang. And why not––“
“Because,” she looked up at the sky expectantly, no doubt waiting for the fireworks to begin.
“–some of us have actual jobs around here.”
“Beetle-fighting is not a real a real job, Arataki-san,” Yoimiya laughed, nearly tumbling backwards.
He caught her with his palm, helping her regain her balance without even having to move his other shoulder but squinted suspiciously when she sat closer than she had before.
“Thanks,” she smiled, and Itto’s frown deepened.
Was she really not afraid of him? Not even a little?
“Eat any pickled plums lately, Arataki-san?” She teased as he leaned a little closer, looking for the tell tale widening of the eyes, the sudden flinch of her shoulders as she realised how huge he was compared to her. How his claws could shred her to bits with one swipe.
Itto waited for the gasp of fear and shock that he’d become accustomed to hearing his whole life.
Yoimiya only blinked at him once, twice, in confusion, then leaned forward and pushed his bangs back from his face. They were close enough that he could see the deep brown undertone of her gold eyes, when she reached out and touched his red horns.
Now any self-respecting demon with half a brain could tell you that under no conditions whatsoever must you touch an oni’s horns. Not only are they one of the most sensitive parts of the oni’s body, the loss of one is akin to the loss of a limb.
Some demons even go so far as to wrap their horns with cloth to hide them from any unnecessary stimuli, but of course, Itto had never seen any reason to. It’s not like he had people lining up to touch his head– even the children had only just begun to warm up to him. But, of course, Yoimiya hadn’t the faintest idea.
“Arataki-san,” she said as he gaped at her in surprise, “Your face is heating up. Do you have a fever?”
Itto jumped back like she’d scalded him, cheeks aflame, trying maintain a semblance of his swagger but found his thoughts unraveling as she eyed him micheviously instead.
Yoimiya had been called a lot of things by the citizens of Inazuma– a chatterbox, a messy eater, a delinquent, a doll, even the occasional jail-breaker– but she’d never ever been mistaken for stupid. The girl was as bright as the fireworks she set off on a regular basis, and he’d found out this the hard way.
“Or could it be..” Yoimiya grinned and moved closer but Itto scrambled backwards at the sudden proximity, trying not to think about the sensory overload: how her hair smelled like citrus and gunpowder, or how her lips, her soft, pink, entirely human lips were inches from his own, or how he was fully and thoroughly screwed now that she’d figured out his weakness.
“Don’t tell me it’s because you’re..”
She trailed away as the first firework burst in the sky, sending gold flakes of light sparkling across the midnight blue.
As his cheeks cooled down, Itto watched Yoimiya shift towards the sound as more and more explosions joined the original one, now in colours of green and red, her eyes glazing over at the blinding display. It was another thing about her that left him puzzled; despite never being at a loss for words, the only time he’d seen her fall quiet was when she was watching the fireworks.
No matter how many times she’d seen them before, no matter who she was seeing them with, Itto could see how transfixed she was by the little bursts of light that faded away into the vast darkness that swept over them, as though there was a story written in the smoke that only she could read.
“Yoi-chan,” He mumbled, but just as he’d expected, the Naganohara heir barely batted an eyelash, too lost in her own world to notice her friend.
Itto sighed and looked down at his hands; the stark red tattoos banding his knuckles, the claw-like nails, and thought about what she’d said. Isn’t there any other ending you can think of?, she’d asked, genuine and curious in a way that got on his nerves for reasons he couldn’t explain.
He thought he knew how humans operated; they loved anything that was of use to them and respected anything that instilled fear in them.
Itto had no desire to be useful to anyone. It was why he refused to get a job in the first place–– he wasn’t some kind of arse-kissing, mercenary-for-hire, though he’d met many a sleazy businessman who needed to be told that repeatedly, with fists. So he settled for being a nomadic warrior instead.
He’d earn their respect with his fearsome displays of justice and make his mark his own way, The Itto Way–– going so far as to graciously recruit members into the Arataki Gang so they could fully appreciate all that his protection had to offer.
Even Kujo Tengu had a begrudging respect for his strength, he was sure of it, (though she still refused to respond to his challenges for a rematch).
He thought his philosophy was ironclad– until Yoimiya came along and shattered it to pieces. Not only did she not fear him to the point of ridiculousness; she didn’t try to push him into doing her chores with her either; in fact, he suspected that she actively blew off work just to partake in their competitions!
To add insult to injury, Itto doubted she even considered him a real rival for the children’s affections– wouldn’t she show a little more persistence if she wasn’t merely humouring him?
But then again, that was always Yoimiya’s style. She approached everything with such sincere recklessness that you’d really have to stop and wonder how much of it was real, and how much was an act. Not that he’d ever wondered, of course. Her recklessness had gotten him out of jail, after all.
It happened on a day like every other one he’d had since he lost his vision.
He’d gotten into a fight with a particularly cruel landlord and found himself on the wrong end of the Tenryou Commissioner’s katana both in a single day, (talk about bad luck), when he’d first met Yoimiya.
The guards had tossed him into the nearest holding cell, not even bothering with cuffs this time - they knew as well as he did that he had nowhere else to go anyway - and spent the rest of the afternoon getting drunk over a mahjong table.
The Shogunate’s iron tight influence over Inazuma meant that anyone who caused even the slightest infraction was either immediately banished or executed by the Raiden herself, so there was no one left to line its jail cells except petty pickpockets or walking nuisances who dared to bare a little teeth, like him.
Itto rolled his eyes as the two foot soldiers snored away into the fading evening light, just beginning to get comfortable on his own makeshift bed of rope and hay when a loud clink! resounded throughout the room and a he turned to see a tiny blonde girl swear under her breath as she knocked down more tiles across the floorboards, sending the tiny rectangular pieces skittering through his wooden bars.
He remembered wondering three things that day - why this strange girl looked so familiar, what that bauble in her hair was, a hanging lollipop-like ornament resembling a dango, and wether she’d let him eat it just to be sure - as she carefully placed a few of the mahjong pieces back on the board.
“C’mon Yoimiya, we don’t have time for this!”
Itto hadn’t noticed she was accompanied by another person till then, with short, shaved hair and the nondescript grey robes of a street vendor; the man was frantically gesturing towards the exit.
It seemed that a jailbreak was taking place.
“Coming, Hanshirou, just let me get this one–” Yoimiya called back, reaching for the tiles that had fallen under the table. As the man, Hanshirou, fretted to himself and tried not lose temper, Itto got an answer to one of his questions.
“Hey! Hey, you–– Naganohara girl!” He said quickly but quietly, sliding a game piece through the bars, so as to not startle her. She whirled around in surprise as it landed at the base of her ankle, and in typical Yoimiya fashion, shifted towards the unusual instead of away from it.
She crept to the front of his cell and peered through the wooden framework curiously.
“How ‘bout ya bust me outta here too,” He proposed when she was close enough that he could see the red tattoos on her forearm, “–and, in exchange, I’ll owe ya one.”
“Whaddya say? Sound like a deal?”
“Your eyes,” Yoimiya said softly, cocking her head to one side, oddly transfixed.
He wasn’t unused to people pointing out the traits of his half demon heritage, hair and eyes especially; but it was always the way they did it that irked him. Their features lined with fear as they took in the silver and red, like they couldn’t believe it existed. Like they believed he shouldn’t. But the Naganohara heir had other intentions.
“And? What about ‘em?” He tried not to growl, crossing his arms defensively.
“They’re like firework shells,” she replied, undeterred, pressing her face against the bars to get a better look.
Itto resisted the urge to lean closer to make sure he heard her right.
“Firework shells? What’re ya on about, Sparkie?”
The unprompted nickname seemed to shake her out of whatever daze she’d been in. Yoimiya blinked in surprise, gasped and briskly turned around to wave at a horrified looking Hanshirou, who looked like he was about to faint.
“Wait a second!” Itto huffed as Yoimiya placed the final mahjong tile on the table between the two unconscious soldiers and turned to leave, “Don’t ya want anythin’ from me?”
“A favour from The Oni Sumo King ain’t nothin’ to turn yer nose up at, y’know!”
“No thanks,” she shrugged carelessly, not even pretending to consider his offer.
“I’m all out of requests at the moment. But if you need my help that badly, Arataki-san, I’d be willing to play you for it.”
Itto was so surprised by her answer that he forgot to ask how she knew his name.
“Fine,” he accepted resentfully; he would’ve corrected her except she was right. Itto did need her help, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it. Playing for it seemed less humiliating than begging anyway.
“Rock-paper-scissors!” She grinned.
They played for hours straight.
Round after round, until the last of the evening’s light bled into claustrophobic night, neither of them getting close to victory in the game meant to settle petty children’s squabbles.
Hanshirou had slipped away by their twenty-seventh game, and a pregnant moon had risen through the high windows, bathing the happy-go-lucky girl and the frustrated half-oni in its dreamy white glow.
A moon much like the one that embellished the sky today; this time a dull, monochromatic backdrop for the rainbow of light that was steadily being punctuated by sharp, sudden bursts of sound.
Itto released a breath and leaned back against the rocky wall, as the sound of the fireworks nudged him out of the memory, and back into real life.
He did end up losing that final match to her (35 to 44), but she’d still unlatched the door to his cell anyway, reasoning, with a wink, that anyone who was willing to play janken with her for four full hours, couldn’t be that much of a villain.
This kindness had, of course, irritated him to no end, so he’d hunted Yoimiya down the very next morning and demanded a rematch. She’d been surrounded by children then, showing them some new toy she’d dug out from back of her shop– they’d been afraid at first, but took a liking to him when Yoimiya beat him again, (this time a pitiful 75 to 4).
Thus began their legendary rivalry for the children’s attention, although, if he were being honest with himself, it really should be renamed Arataki Itto’s Longest Losing Streak in Existence. To a girl who had no trouble winning, no less.
Itto tried not to sulk as he shot a sideways glance at the girl in question; Yoimiya hadn’t torn her gaze away from the fireworks display all this time.
Though it had been a few weeks since the start of their unlikely friendship, Itto found himself unwilling to believe she didn’t need anything from him.
Everyone always needed something from him. It was a fact; wether it be protection or strength, or even just a picture. That was just how humans were.
Why else would she have let him out of jail? Or bothered to show up for yet another sour-plum eating contest, four days in a row. Why else would she bother hanging around him at all?
Whaddya really want from me, Sparkie?
He hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud until the explosions finally faded away and Yoimiya turned around.
“To be your friend, Arataki-san,” she said softly, her perpetual smile strangely sad under the moonlight.
The abrupt silence gently sloughed into the soft hiss of cicadas, and rustle of wind on branches as nature took over the symphony with its own, unique orchestra.
Something odd happened to Itto then.
Maybe it was the way she was staring right through him, or how the absence of fireworks left a visible vacancy in her eyes; hell, it could’ve just been because he’d never seen the Naganohara heir look anything short of bright and bubbly–– but an inexplicable sense of guilt pricked his heart.
The buzzing feeling traveled from his chest to his knees, and then right back up to his stomach where it settled, burning a hole straight through his intestines.
He’d been so sure that she had some kind of ulterior motive in befriending him, that he hadn’t realised his suspicions were slowly pushing her away. Granny was right. He could be a real jerk sometimes.
The half-oni sighed, stood up and held out an arm.
Yoimiya glanced up at him perplexed.
“You’re really bad at it then,” He huffed when she didn’t take it immediately.
“Arataki-san this, Arataki-san that–– if I didn’t know any better I’d think ya only met me yesterday, Sparkie.”
The fire in Yoimiya’s eyes flared as the meaning behind his words clicked.
She took his outstretched palm in hers and he pulled her up.
“You know, if you don’t like your name you should just change it yourself– AHH!” Yoimiya began to tease, but shrieked when he bent forward and picked her up by her thighs instead, hoisting her whole frame over one of his shoulders in one fell swoop.
“Put me down,” she laughed as she steadied herself against him, but Itto only shook his head and supported her with one arm, turning to point out the sky with the other.
Yoimiya gasped as the fireworks show resumed, relaxing her grip on his triceps to reach out her hand to the night instead, like she was trying to catch the glittering light between her soot smudged fingertips.
Itto watched her fall silent just as quickly as before and resisted the urge to grin. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the annual light show but watching them with Yoimiya wasn’t half bad.
She absentmindedly placed her other hand on the top of his head, near the base of his horns and he felt a flicker of electricity pass through him, prickling his spine and shaking his passenger in the process.
“Don’t touch the horns,” Itto grouched when she looked down at him in confusion. Her eyes sparkled wickedly then and he wondered if it was morally acceptable to fling her off the cliff right then and there.
“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish,” she laughed again, but obediently moved her hand back down to his neck, much to his surprise.
“Hey, it’s not my fault! Oni horns are extremely sensitive, alright?”
“Alright, alright. Horns are off limits. Got it.”
After a few seconds of comfortable silence, Yoimiya whispered into his ear.
“Hm,” He rumbled in assent.
“No, I was just wondering if that’s what you wanted me to call you,” she replied, pulling on his earlobe impishly.
“Or what about.. Taki.. san? Oh I know– Taki-kun!”
Itto felt his face (and his ears) flush, even though her hands were safely away from his horns, and mumbled something incomprehensible into the night air. She leaned over to hear him better.
“No I’m not going to call you Arataki Burning Passion for Battle Itto,” Yoimiya snorted, “It’s too long. And it’s not cute at all, Itto-san.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Itto rolled his eyes, “Just don’t sweat it with all that Arataki-san business. I ain’t my old man, alright?”
“Okay, what about.. hm..”
Itto didn’t need to look up to see that Yoimiya was once again lost in the fireworks.
Darkness burned away under the onslaught of tiny silver and gold bursts, briefly turning their night to day, and he felt his sensitive demon eyes shirk against the sudden flash.
The sparks fizzled out and fell, covering the sky in a mock meteor shower, each flicker leaving behind a burning white trail and for a second he imagined the white hot light raining all around them, sputtering out into tiny glowing fireflies as they fell.
It was gone as suddenly as it arrived, the blinding flare, and Itto found himself blinking spots out of his vision as the Naganohara Fireworks Show fittingly came to an end.
“Hey, Sparkie,” he began, gently nudging the girl atop him out of her own daze, “Hey, I thought about what ya said.”
“About.. the name?” She mumbled confusedly, rubbing stars out of her eyes.
“About the story.”
“The story?” Yoimiya tilted her head.
“Yeah, the story. ‘Bout how ya said it didn’t have to end like it did?”
“Oh! The Oni story,” she smacked her own forehead, “Is that what you’ve been thinking about all this time?”
“No,” Itto lied, looking anywhere but up.
Yoimiya narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Anyway, I think I figured it out.”
“Does the Red Oni stay with the humans and have fun forever?” She volunteered, only half-joking.
“He goes searching for the Blue Oni, and brings him home.”
“That’s great,” Yoimiya said kindly, stifling a yawn, “Good for.. (hah).. good for him.. he deserves it.”
Itto nodded, almost to himself.
It was an idea he’d been toying with for a while now. If he were the Red Oni– well, let’s just say the story would’ve gone much more differently if he were in it, but suffice to say he definitely wouldn’t have let his friend sacrifice himself. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even let his enemies sacrifice themselves for him; Itto was very anti-sacrifice all around.
“But you know-” Yoimiya mused, “-I think the humans might be a little jealous if they have to share the Red Oni now.”
“Think about it Ara– um, Itto-san,” She said, stumbling over the unfamiliar moniker, “If the Blue Oni comes back, the Red Oni’s probably going to spend all his time with his best friend.”
“And, wouldn’t you be jealous if your best friend didn’t spend time with you anymore?”
“Nah, not really,” he admitted after a few seconds of deep thought, “Ushi usually comes back home at the end of the day so I ain’t too worried ‘bout the little guy.”
“Little guy?” She raised an eyebrow, “You’re talking about that tiny ox that follows you around, aren’t you? That doesn’t count, Itto-san.”
“For your information,” the half oni crossed his arms, “Ushi’s a Bull, who also happens to be the Third Foundin’ Member of the Arataki Gang and my best friend.”
“Right,” She rolled her eyes, “But I’m talking about a real person. Sort of like... hmm– oh! Like General Kujou Sara, for example.”
“Kujou Tengu?!” Itto replied, scandalised, “We’re not friends, we’re rivals.”
“We’re rivals,” Yoimiya gave him a pointed look and he resisted the urge to immediately correct her by saying that it was different.
Kujou Tengu was cold where Yoimiya was warm; distant where the latter hadn’t fully grasped the concept. It was different. He just didn’t know how to put it into words.
“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled instead and she shook her head pityingly.
“Poor, poor Itto-san,” Yoimiya teased, petting his hair, “Imagine if you found out that Kujou-san hadn’t been responding to your challenges because she was too busy fighting someone else.”
While it was true enough that he’d been clamouring for a rematch against the general of the Tenryou Commission, he had a strong suspicion that she did not share his sentiment. Still, the thought of the countless noticeboards he’d desecrated in order to get her attention had his hackles raising– surely it couldn’t be that hard to make time for another battle with such a worthy opponent as himself.
Yoimiya’s eyes sparked, catching the minute shift in facial expression and mistaking it for something else entirely.
“Aww, it’s alright,” she grinned, “There’s no harm in feeling a little jealous now and then.”
“No idea what yer on about, Sparkie,” he squinted, trying not to recall Kujou Tengu’s sharp gaze or her infuriating smile as she rubbed her victory in his face.
He wasn’t jealous; if anything he was tired of being disrespected by someone who, in all fairness, should’ve been part of his gang but settled for being the Raiden’s lapdog instead.
“I’d be jealous if it were me.”
Itto almost didn’t hear Yoimiya mumble the words into his hair at first.
He waited a beat but she didn’t elaborate.
“Ya would?” He prodded finally, trying to tilt his head back to see her face, in vain.
“Mhm,” he could feel her breath on his scalp, “If the Red Oni suddenly left without explanation and spent all his time with the Blue Oni, I think I’d be terribly jealous of her.”
“I’d feel like she stole my friend away from me, y’know?”
Silence bloomed between the two after that– a silence that was different from all their other ones, now filled with mystery and the promise of something unsaid. Itto had a faint suspicion that Yoimiya wasn’t talking about the story at all, and for the first time since he’d met her the half-oni wondered how well he really knew the Naganohara heir.
For all of her playacting and childish games, the fireworks expert had never worn her heart on her sleeve the way he did, and it hadn’t occurred to him to ask why, till this very moment.
But before Itto could open his mouth and come up with a response that wasn’t one syllable long, Yoimiya laughed and smacked him on the top of his head, sending a mild shock through his body.
“Oh, look at me running my mouth off like an old spinster,” She huffed, the smile returning to her voice, “Thoma did always harp on and on about how I had no filter. Guess I should’ve taken his advice when I had the chance, huh?”
“Listen, Sparkie,” Itto began, unsure what any part of their conversation had to do with Inazuma’s most well-known Fixer, but she only laughed again, and gestured for him to put her down.
He reluctantly leaned forward so she could easily slip off of his shoulders and onto the same rock they’d been sharing before, and Yoimiya stretched as she did so, her nimble arms extending with fox-like grace.
The tattoo on her forearm rippled with the motion and Itto found his eyes drawn to the single koi fish intertwined with branches of cherry blossoms, all stained a dark, inky red– suddenly realising that he had no idea what the meaning was behind it all.
In all the time they’d known one another he’d learned much about Hanamizaka’s best pyrotechnician; how she took her ramen (with ridiculous amounts of chili sauce), what her favourite hobby was (fireworks), where she hid out when she wanted to get away from people (the beach)– but next to nothing about her past. Not even how she got her vision (though he must’ve told her about his own more times than he could count.)
There were still so many things he didn’t know about his friend.
“Yoi-chan,” he tried again, but she was already bounding away from him, across the plain, up the sakura tree, her quick feet finding purchase in the elegant, brown bark as she hoisted herself up to the top of the trunk.
“You should get up here,” She waved excitedly, “The view is great!”
“Wait a minute! We gotta talk!” He called back, bending over to straighten his mace, which had somehow fallen over and rolled into a nearby bush in all the excitement.
Something smacked the back of his head and he looked up in confusion to find Yoimiya perched higher than she was before, flicking a small, round object at him.
“Hurry up, Itto-san!” She giggled, tossing another one.
He caught it with ease this time, so she stuck her tongue out at him and leapt to her feet to resume her ascent. Itto opened his palm to reveal the tiny, unique shape of a cherry blossom seed taunting him.
“Would ya listen to me for a second, Sparkie?” He squinted upwards, letting it fall from his palm harmlessly, but Yoimiya’s bright orange kimono was already disappearing into the pale pink cluster of flowers.
“I’ll listen to whatever you’ve gotta say when you catch up to me, slowpoke!”
Itto waited a few seconds before he began to climb, straining his ears to hear the faint sound of her laughter that seemed to be coming from all around him. As he heaved himself over the first couple of boughs he felt the wood crack into splinters under his nails and winced.
He wasn’t fond of tree-scaling for many reasons, usually because he felt like the tree wasn’t too fond of him either. Yoimiya had laughed and laughed when he told her that the trees here were sentient. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me that the Raiden Shogun isn’t the Shogun at all.
The view gave way to an endless cliff on one side - a result of the tree growing out of the rocky outcropping no doubt, which was punctuated by a twenty foot drop into a shallow pool of water - and the distinct, triangular roofs of the Inazuman buildings on the other, glossy under the milky sheen of starlight.
Itto climbed higher and higher, chasing flashes of telltale orange he’d glimpse once in a while, but found himself face to snout with a baby kitsune instead.
He knelt, so as to not scare the creature and watched as it silently opened its big purple eyes and gave him a once-over. Though Itto wasn’t unfamiliar with the foxes - they huddled in the wilder parts of Inazuma and occasionally snuck around the back alleys of the city - he’d never taken a liking to their more secretive natures, even when Granny Oni made him place offerings with her.
If you ever see a raincloud burst while the sun still shines, it’s a sure sign of a kitsune’s wedding, she’d warned him when he’d tried to scare them away once, So I’d try not to anger them if I were you Itto-chan, or they could ruin the perfectly good day you’re having.
He’d assumed it was all superstitious nonsense, like breaking combs or throwing beans, but looking into the oddly intelligent eyes of the animal in front of him, he felt the stirrings of doubt in his stomach. Go on, he prodded mentally, make it rain.
The fox pawed at its ear for a second before letting out a deep sniff and hopping off to a higher branch. He watched it escape, moonlight slicking the path behind it as it ran, and tried not to feel disappointed.
Before he could really appreciate the peace and quiet, however, the unmistakable sound of a branch breaking came from above him.
Itto looked up in horror to find Yoimiya balancing precariously on a thin bough and clutching the branch nearest to her like a lifeline, mirth steadily draining from her face as the one under her feet let out another dangerous crack!.
She caught sight of him then, her gold eyes wide with terror, and managed to muster up a frightened smile.
“I think I might’ve gone too far,” she joked but her voice trembled as she said it, betraying her feelings.
Itto was already on his feet, steadying himself against the tree trunk as he kicked off his sandals.
“Jump!” He yelled, arms outstretched as another crack split the night air in two.
A thousand expressions seemed to flit across her face at once; facets of fear, panic, surprise, each overlapping the other, a Venn diagram of uncertainty mapping itself out on her features as she considered potentially taking both of them down with her fall.
A sudden plop! echoed into the night as a raindrop landed squarely on her scalp, making the decision for her. Then another. And another. The sky was filled with soft hiss of rain in a matter of seconds, drowning out the sounds of the night in favour of covering everything with its wet embrace.
“What’re ya waitin’ for?” Itto roared, the sense of urgency striking him red-hot and fast, like metal in a forge. Rain ran down on him, dampening his hair and pricking his skin. Somewhere in the distance, he imagined the curled up frame of a ginger fox, giggling to itself. Ask only what you wish to receive.
He gaped up at her, bewildered, wondering if this too was some lame attempt at a last-minute jest, but Yoimiya’s expression was beseeching and wholly, undeniably serious.
“Whaddya think I’m doin’, Sparkie?” He motioned for her to let go of the branch and for a short second he thought she might.
But she pulled back almost immediately.
“I can’t!” She cried, clinging tighter. Itto felt his heart leap to his throat as the twig in her hands snapped instantly, sending a domino effect of breaking sounds across the whole tree.
The terror on Yoimiya’s face doubled as she balanced on the weak branch, both arms out like a tightrope walker, her breaths coming in short bursts, one wrong move away from toppling twenty feet down into a shallow, watery grave.
He moved to the very edge of his own branch, ignoring the rain that streaked down his face relentlessly, crouching a little, so she’d feel like he was closer than he actually was.
“I swear I’ll catch ya, Sparkie. You have my word,” he nodded holding out his arm comfortingly.
Yoimiya took a deep breath.
There was a brief second between her leaping off the branch, (it gave one final, feeble crack before shattering under foot), and her falling into his arms that seemed to last all eternity.
Time stretched, wrapped and melted around them all at once, so all he could remember was the hush as the rain quieted all around them, the few metres of distance between his skin and hers, before it rapidly accelerated forward then he was hugging her, holding her, pressing her very cold, very alive body onto his and taking giant heaving breaths.
As Itto steadied himself so they both wouldn’t have to suffer a less deadly but equally painful landing at the base of the tree, Yoimiya wiped away the rain and tears that had mixed with one another on her face, and took a seat in an attempt to quell the shaking in her legs.
The moon had wedged itself between a slit in the clouds, so that only a sliver of its light was able to illuminate their surroundings. Itto took a seat beside her, letting the adrenaline wear off under the cooling rain that dripped all around them.
“Itto-san,” He turned to her curiously.
Yoimiya gave him a small smile.
“I think I’m finally ready to listen now.”
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