Chapter Text
His heart is pounding.
What’s wrong?
The world is dark as he opens his eyes, attempting to make out the blur of darkness before him. His hand moves to cover his chest, and his heart’s thumping a thud, thud, thud, drumming in his ears, too loud for him to focus properly.
He shifts to sit up, working to calm himself with deep breaths. Four seconds in, two on hold, and then six on the exhale—
An almost unfamiliar, yet painfully familiar scent catches on his nose, and he freezes.
Like sun warming the skin after a long day spent wandering — cooled by the night, warm and heady and unmistakable to Kazuha’s keen nose.
That scent…
…Tomo?
He turns his head immediately, eyes lighting upon a figure curled up with his back to him on a tatami mat near his.
His breathing stops, gaze shifting from the mess of sandy hair atop the sleeping man’s head, to the red haori folded haphazardly and left to the side, along with a purple scarf.
This isn’t real. He’s dreaming, isn’t he?
He almost doesn’t want to find out.
Kazuha’s lips part, finding his breathing again as he moves a little closer, hesitating, as if afraid of what he might find.
This is just a dream, Kazuha reminds himself as he reaches out tentatively after hearing no change in the man’s breathing. Not the real Tomo.
He holds his breath for a few more moments before shaking the figure lightly. “...Tomo,” he whispers, voice hoarse, before clearing his throat and trying again, “Tomo. Tomo, wake up.”
The man makes a sound of protest before curling up on himself further, and Kazuha’s sensitive ears pick up on words of “Not yet, Tama, it’s still early,” before Kazuha places both hands on his shoulder to roll him onto his back.
Kazuha’s breaths turn shallow as he sees Tomo’s face, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. He looks the same as before, and Kazuha stares down at him, hears his heart beat in a steady rhythm.
His own heart beats out of rhythm, tripping over itself with his quickening pulse, and he leans over Tomo to brush a stray lock of hair back with shaky fingers.
In an instant, Tomo’s eyes flick open and a hand grabs his wrist instinctively, squeezing tight, violet gaze locking with his amber one, narrowed.
Kazuha is at a loss for words, unable to breathe again as Tomo’s features slowly relax into a lazy smile at the sight of him. “Sorry, Kazu, that was pure reflex. You’re not hurt, are you?”
Tomo relaxes his grip, turning Kazuha’s hand over to check, squinting in the dark. He’s used to Kazuha’s silence, though this one seems more than a little too long — perhaps something is on his mind?
He looks up, only to see the hint of tears slip down the samurai’s cheeks. Alarmed, Tomo sits up as well. “Kazuha? What’s wrong?”
A sob tears from Kazuha’s chest, loud and clear and full of grief, and Tomo’s own pulse spikes in fear and worry.
Kazuha tugs his hand back, weakly trying to free it from Tomo’s as he nearly folds into himself trying to escape Tomo’s scrutiny. But Tomo is strong, and Kazuha is weak in his grief, easily pulled into his warm, warm grip, one Kazuha had once convinced himself he could part with in peace.
A warm hand slides into his hair, gently coaxing him into sitting down. An arm sidles around his waist, rubbing at his back, and Tomo’s hand presses his face into his chest. Tomo strokes his head in comfort, legs parting to allow Kazuha room to settle in more comfortably as the younger continues to cry, tears soaking Tomo’s undershirt.
Kazuha curls his fingers into Tomo’s clothes, breathing him in, feeling his heart beat beneath his hand, choking back sobs that threaten to escape again. He shakes in Tomo’s embrace, shivering and quivering under the weight of his grief, gasping in lungfuls of his friend’s unforgettable, unmistakable scent as he presses his forehead against that firm warmth, breathing shakily.
Then he twists, just enough to see Tomo through blurry eyes, harshly swiping at his face to clear his vision, even as more tears come, his lower lip trembling.
Tomo gives him a lopsided smile, running gentle fingers through his hair, though his eyes are dark with concern. “Better?”
Instead of a reply, Kazuha’s cold hands reach up to cup Tomo’s face, thumbs slipping over cheeks, and the other looks down at him in confusion. Kazuha stares, stares hard, eyes tracing over every detail on Tomo’s face, trying to commit it all to memory before he wakes up and finds himself alone again.
Seeing his weird staring, Tomo sighs and mumbles, “Kazuha…”
Tears spill from Kazuha’s eyes again, and Tomo nearly panics. “Alright, alright, I won’t speak any more. Take your time.”
Kazuha shakes his head, a watery laugh breaking from his lips as he buries his face in the warm crook of Tomo’s neck, hiccuping.
Tomo tucks his arms around him and holds him close, seemingly out of instinct, rocking him slowly as one would a child, humming out of tune sounds for him.
Kazuha closes his eyes against the sting of tears, trying to savour whatever is left of Tomo in his mind, wrapping his arms about his neck tighter. It’s the clearest he’s seen Tomo in a year, the ghost of him always there, following his every step — every regret Kazuha ever had coalesced into the precious and vanishing memory of his once-friend, and Kazuha can’t bear to be parted from this.
Minutes pass, the gentle night breeze brushing against their skins as Kazuha furrows deeper into Tomo’s embrace, hiccuping tiny sobs that quell over time into sniffles and wet coughs.
“Kazuha?” Tomo tries, forcing his voice to be gentle, “I’ll go get some water for you, okay?”
He attempts to get up, but Kazuha flails wildly, twisting Tomo’s shirt into his fists, eyes full of blatant panic that Tomo sits back down immediately, arms back around the smaller samurai and murmuring words of appeasement.
“Don’t go,” Kazuha mumbles, sliding down to bury his face in his chest. “Don’t go to Tenshukaku. Don’t go. Don’t go.”
Tenshukaku?
Surprised, Tomo chuckles a bit, running his fingers through Kazuha’s hair. “I have no reason to go there.”
Kazuha’s fists are clenched against Tomo’s abdomen, trying to get his breathing and thoughts under control again, the fear taking on an edge he’s never experienced before now.
“Tomo, you…” Kazuha trails off. He doesn’t know what to say. He reaches up to put a hand against Tomo’s face again, feeling the way the man looks down at him. His eyes are electrifying in ways that once left Kazuha feeling warm, in ways that had touched his heart the way no one has before. “You… feel so real.”
Tomo blinks once, and then twice as if confused. Then he laughs, mirthful. “I am real, Kazuha.”
Kazuha stays silent, watching him.
A dream. A sweet dream of Tomo, one where Tomo isn’t dead or dying by the Shogun’s hand. Not yet. Not yet.
His lips press into a thin line before they tremble again, and he bites his lower lip, nearly piercing skin, unable to stop the sob from breaking free.
Rough fingers brush Kazuha’s sweat-drenched bangs from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “You’re crying a lot, sweetheart…”
How could he help it?
“You’re gone,” Kazuha tells him feebly, his voice weak, “you died. And you left me.”
Tomo’s brows scrunch together, the endearing scar across his nose becoming jagged as his friend looks down at him, studying the quivering of his red eyes, his pale cheeks swollen with the tears soaking his cheeks.
“And this is why you’re crying?”
Kazuha meets his stare as fresh tears leak out of his tired eyes.
Tomo looks down at him for a few moments longer before gathering him to his chest again. He sighs, and Kazuha nearly freezes as Tomo presses a kiss to his head.
“I’m not even dead, Kazuha,” Tomo mumbles into his hair, brushing his hands over Kazuha’s shoulders and back, trying to ease the younger’s nerves. “I’m right here, can’t you feel me…”
Nothing he says seems to work. Kazuha’s tears are never-ending, no matter how much Tomo tries to reassure and coddle him.
It’s not long before Kazuha’s eyes are drooping with exhaustion, blearily clinging onto Tomo’s clothes, not unlike what Tama usually does. Belatedly, Tomo realises Tama has vanished.
“Don’t go…” His dear friend whispers, his fingers clutching at Tomo’s ruined clothes.
Tomo’s heart hurts, seeing such a scene — the brave, strong and gentle Kazuha, becoming such a mess at the thought of losing him?
He’s clearly clinging onto the last shreds of his consciousness, his eyes dark with fear as he stares up at Tomo's face.
“...”
Tomo stares back, a strange feeling sinking in his chest.
“Don’t go, Tomo… please…”
The last of Kazuha’s pleas fade into mere whispers, struggling to stay awake in the warmth of Tomo’s grasp, grief and fear mixing in his red-rimmed eyes.
Unbidden, Tomo feels fear, too.
Was this truly the end? Just what was Kazuha so afraid of? Was it a dream?
His breathing grows heavy, but he brushes another wet strand away from Kazuha’s face, tucking it behind his ear as he leans down.
Minutely, Kazuha startles as Tomo presses their foreheads together, his eyes darting to meet Tomo’s, so close his breath is stolen.
“I’ll be here tomorrow, Kazuha,” Tomo murmurs as an assurance, hugging him tighter, so tight Kazuha could almost believe him, believe that it wasn’t a dream, that things weren’t over for good.
If Tomo didn’t let go, could Kazuha stay here forever? He almost wants to find out, exhaling shallowly against Tomo’s mouth.
Tomo’s eyes close, and his lips curve into a simple, tender smile — the one Kazuha is most fond of, his own eyes darting all over his face, trying to capture everything, engrave it into his memory.
He hopes he can hold Tomo so close he melts into his flesh, never to be parted again, never to be lost from his side. Some wanderer he is, unable to let go of a person, his favourite…
Tomo presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose, the action so simply sweet and silly at the same time that it leaves Kazuha stunned, watching as Tomo brushes his calloused thumbs over Kazuha’s tear-stained cheeks.
He’s drowsy.
It’s no good, staying in Tomo’s embrace, surrendering to his learned gentleness, for all the ways Kazuha has been the cool jade of the moon, Tomo has been the warm embers of the sun.
“Sleep, princess,” his murmurs lull Kazuha’s grief-stricken heart, “I’ll be here when you wake up, as always. Don’t fear.”
But what if you’re not?
What if you’re not here tomorrow?
Tomo smiles, soft around the edges, as if reading his mind.
“I’m hard to kill,” he chuckles, stroking Kazuha’s hair again. “You’ll see me. I’ll be right there.”
It’s an impossible promise to keep.
It’s impossible, but Kazuha’s fractured heart wants so desperately to believe.
He wants to believe. He wants to believe. He wants to believe so badly that his heart burns at the thought.
But it doesn’t burn deep enough, exhaustion claiming him, the world fading to black around the edges no matter how hard he tries to cling on.
The last he sees is Tomo’s sandy hair, and his fond, gentle smile, easy as always.
Stay, Tomo.
Don’t leave again, please.
Please.