Azakana

—¡Pero sería fashion! Le puedo poner un collar con spikes.

Yone se giró lentamente en su silla. Lo miró por encima de sus lentes con una mezcla de resignación y afecto.

—Escucha. Si vamos a tener una criatura, que sea algo que *nos necesite*. Algo que no tenga casa. Que podamos cuidar. . —¿Como un perro callejero? — —O un gato viejo. De esos que nadie adopta. tenemos la capacidad económica y de tiempo para cuidar a un gato senior para darle una buena vida en sus años dorados.—

Dijo Yone, con resolución y alto sentido del deber en su tono.

—... —Podemos buscar un refugio. Y si no te convence ninguno… consideramos el pulpo, ¿vale?

Xael se quedó pensativo. Luego una sonrisa. Le brillaron los ojos. —¿Un gato viejo que haya vivido 9 vidas de drama? —Exacto. Uno que escuche nuestras mezclas y no huya. —¡Oh my goth! ¡Le podemos poner un nombre como Reverb! O Requiem. O... *Amoled*. —*No le vamos a poner Amoled.*

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Dos días después estaban sentados en el suelo de un refugio para mascotas mirando diferentes gatos y perros. A Yone le rompía el corazón mirar a tantos animalitos en condiciones difíciles, algunos estaban muy flacos, algunos estaban con cicatrices de peleas, el deseaba llevarselos a todos pero de repente, un gato esponjosito blanco y de ojos esmeralda, con cicatrices en la oreja y en la naricita, caminaba directo hacia ellos.

—Éste es un gato ya en edad senior—dijo la encargada—. Tiene 13 años. No se lleva con otros gatos, pero ama la música suave. Xael lo cargó en sus brazos. El gato ronroneó como si le conectaran un subwoofer a su alma. —Me gusta. Tiene aura de brujo retirado. Yone lo acarició detrás de las orejas. —Perfecto. Nos adoptó él.

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Esa noche, el gatito durmió entre ambos en la cama. Xael lo envolvió con una manta suave y dijo en voz baja:

—Bienvenido al templo sonoro, criatura antigua. Yone solo sonrió. —Y sin tentáculos. Milagro!

Xael lo ignoró.

Yasuo, with a soul tormented by the agony of forgotten love, found solace in the cathartic beauty of nature. He would often retreat to the solitude of the moonlit bridge, gazing pensively at the shimmering ripples on the water's surface, his thoughts consumed by the enigma of their connection.

Yone, on the other hand, found himself lost in the labyrinth of his own mind, struggling to piece together the fragments of his past. The mask he wore served as a symbol of his lost identity, a haunting reminder of the void within him. Each day, he yearned to uncover the truth that lay shrouded in the recesses of his memories.

One evening, as twilight descended upon the world, Yasuo sat beneath the ancient willow tree, the branches swaying gently in the breeze. Yone, with a newfound glimmer of recognition in his eyes, approached him slowly, his steps tentative and laden with longing.

They stood before each other, the moon casting its ethereal glow upon their intertwined destinies. Yasuo's eyes, filled with a blend of melancholy and hope, met Yone's searching gaze.

"I have been haunted by dreams of our past," Yasuo whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "A love that transcended time and memory, an unbreakable bond that defied the shadows that sought to engulf us."

Yone's breath hitched, his heart yearning for something he couldn't yet fully comprehend. "I, too, have felt the echoes of a love lost in the recesses of my fractured memories," he murmured, his voice tinged with a fragile vulnerability.

In that moment, a profound silence enveloped them, the weight of their unspoken truths hanging in the air. They stood on the precipice of rediscovery, uncertain of the path that lay ahead.

Yasuo took a step forward, his hand outstretched, beckoning Yone to join him. With trepidation and a flicker of newfound courage, Yone extended his hand, their fingers intertwining like two pieces of a shattered puzzle.

As their hands touched, a surge of energy coursed through their veins, a spark of recognition that defied the passage of time. It was a single touch that bridged the vast chasm that separated their fragmented memories, binding them together in a shared yearning for the truth.