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It hadn’t been too difficult to arrive in the specific area where the two young men were sitting. While most would complain about the 13 hour trek to reach the base of the Carpathians, both Amami Rantarou and Shinguuji Korekiyo didn’t mind ; it held a large handful of gorgeous scenery, and a collection of stories and folklore behind each village. To state that this trek was perfect for the two boys, was an understatement. Albeit, it included a painstaking amount of effort, and the requirement to wake at four in the morning and spend five hours on a bus was a pain in the neck, but in the end.. It was all worth it.
Their backpacks and belongings strewn to the side and propped up against nearby rocks, Shinguuji and Amami sat alongside each other in the grass, the blades of green tickling their hands as they leaned back, taking in the view from the mountain peak. The view of dozens of small houses, forming together in a village and just beyond that, the tips of the towers of the city. They were isolated, miles away from humanity. Though beautify, it was definitely chilly; Boreas’ whispers fluttered through the hair, whisking Shinguuji’s locks into the darkened horizon and brushing Amami’s hair in front of the shorter male’s eyes (who, in return, simply chuckled and brushed the same hair away).
Lifting his lime hues from the peaks of the hills resting below the mountains, Amami glanced down towards his watch, eyes hovering over the time expectantly. It should be soon… shouldn’t it?
23:47.
“Starting soon. Just thirteen more minutes.” The lime-haired boy tipped his head to his good friend, slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips. It was a smile of anticipation. But mostly, a smile of warmth. A sense of warmth that the other, Shinguuji, hadn’t felt in so long; not since he heard the final, soft hums of ‘my dear Korekiyo’.
But that was gone now; she was gone, and Shinguuji was fully in the moment, feeling the breeze nip at the edge of his neck. He was finally free , his body, mind, spirit, and soul all blend harmoniously. And Amami knew it (of course he did; he always knew, always read the emotions and pain on Shinguuji’s face) .
In return, the anthropologist gave a small hum from beneath his mask, hiding a slight smile under the same leather fabric as his yellow irises glace ahead to the peaks of each mountain, taking in each and every aspect, each detail of the scenery. “Is that so? I imagined It’d have to be soon.. I just hadn’t anticipated time would go by so fast.” With a small chuckle, Shinguuji sat himself on the edge of the grassy cliff, leaning forward with his face cupped in his left hand, legs dangling, threatening to fall into the depths below. “But it is quite the view.. I would spend an eternity here, even if it meant feeling the fiery wrath of Wanyūdō for all eternity.. kukuku..”
Wanyūdō. The soul-taker from Japanese folklore. Amami knew this already from hours and hours of fascinating information from Shinguuji.
Giving his own chuckle of amusement, Amami raised a slight elbow, leaning back onto both of his hands as he slightly swung his legs on the edge of the cliff, before returning his eyes back towards the view. Although the adventurer had been here half a dozen times by himself, having someone else alongside him was.. comforting, and made the view all-the-more beautiful. “Or, you know, we can be like normal people and come back every winter. The view’s not leaving, trust me.. . Plus, there’s a ton of other places to go. Why just stay here?”
“Ah, true, but everything here is just so fascinating and beautiful; the people, the villages, the history behind each and every stone placed.. Even the bitter chilliness reminds me of Marzanna.” Looking back towards Amami, Shinguuji found the other man with his eyebrow perked up inquisitively, as if waiting for the taller male to continue on. Glancing back to make eye contact with his great friend and smiling slightly under his mask, the anthropologist continued: “Marzanna, typically depicted as an elderly witch dressed in white, is the personification of both winter and death, as well as the nature of rebirth.. But if it eases your understanding, please think of her as a sort of Hecate or Cerces… However, because of her rule over life and death, many sought to further increase their lifespan.. with no such luck.”
Upon glancing back to Amami, the taller male noticed his lime-haired counterpart leaning back, nodding along with a small smile on his lips; Shinguuji could tell, Amami found interest in this as well (he always did) . “Naturally, being known as the Goddess of Death, Marzanna was the ruler of Nav. Upon inquiring about this figure with the commoners from the village below,” With his bandaged index finger, Shinguuji smiled underneath his mask, and gestured towards one of the villages just within view of the mountains, “.. I discovered that they often cursed Marzanna for the long, bitter winters and the freezing and starvation of their cows.. Kukuku.. Naturally, she was feared, and the arrival of Spring was celebrated. But my, my, wouldn’t you kill to see the beauty of the villagers faces as they banish Marzanna from their grounds, and fill themselves with hope for the spring? Kukuku… I can only imagine what beauty and virtue it would hold.”
Stealing a final glance to the same village from below, Shinguuji set a hand in his lap, the other hand slightly spinning the flask between the two green-haired boys. Looking back to his good friend, the anthropologist gave a warm smile under his mask, still observing Amami as the shorter boy leaned off of his hands, and forward, resting his own wrists on each knee, his eyebrows slightly raised in fascination, eyes glued to Shinguuji. Fortunately, it seemed the lime-haired male always found interest in the other’s stories and information.. It opened the adventure’s eyes into a whole new world of discovery, a new sense of discovery to each place they traveled together.
And now, December 31, 20XX.. 23:56.. In Ukraine. Just Amami and Shinguuji, sitting upon the clifftop with a flask of liquor between them, watching, waiting for the clock to hit the stroke of midnight.
“Welp.. either way, Marzanna or no Marzanna, I have to agree the people, the spring would be gorgeous as hell .” Amami gave a shrug of his shoulders, shooting a sideways grin to his best pal, before giving a sigh and nodding his head to the flask and glasses between them as he leaned closer to Shinguuji, giving him a nudge in the shoulder with a tease: “But hey, keep your soul and we can toast to the new year- ‘M sure that’s a pretty good reason not to let some fire-headed freak take your humanity.”
“Kukuku… what a great argument you make, Rantarou... I suppose I’ll keep my soul for just another night.”
With a final, joking chuckle and a playful tap on Amami’s shoulder from Shinguuji, the two sat themselves up, glancing at the clock once more. Three minutes. Three minutes until the stroke of midnight, and the announcement of a new year; one, hopefully, without Shinguuji’s inner demon, and one where both young men are united, growing a stronger friendship (“””friendship””””). It was nice, waiting in the night, having nothing but the moonlight and the slight reflection from Amami’s watch to illuminate the area around the two. Though it was on the darker side, warmth and comfort radiated around the two, as they were finally finding themselves peace and comfort. Well-deserved tranquility.
Without realizing it, a couple minutes pass in front of the two (when had the time passed?), before Amami shoots Shinguuji a slight smile, nudging towards the flask and shot-glasses. “So.. What do you say, Kiyo; is it ‘bout time we prep for the new year?”
Upon hearing a shortened version of his given name (not the shameful, horrible full name his sister used to call him) , Shinguuji gave a nod, his own slight smile beneath his mask. The anthropologist gave a hum, extending his hand flat and outward, in a typically ‘Shinguuji-gesture’. A content gesture. “My, my, but what else would we do to celebrate this coming year? A drink is only tradition.. kuku.. it’d be a shame if we didn’t make a toast.”
With those words, Amami chuckled once more, grabbing and twisting the top to the flask. Sure, they had a hell of a walk down, but a small toast could do no harm; besides, who the hell passes up drinking on New Years? Sure as hell not these two greenbeans. Within an instant, the lime-haired man has both his and his great pal’s glasses filled, setting the flask back down as Shinguuji took his own shot. With a final glance to his watch, Amami lowered his arm, his hand reaching for and clutching the anthropologist’s hand- Shinguuji clutched his hand back.
“Five… Four… Three… Two… One. Well, we made it through this year alive. Happy New Year, Kiyo,” A slight laugh left Amami’s lips as he grinned, clutching his friend’s hand tighter, whom smiled back, gripping onto Amami’s hand in return. Soothing. That’s what the two of them felt. Freedom and relief, motivation ready to send them into a better year. A rush of euphoria, ready to send them away from all of their problems, and find other beautiful places to escape humanity.
“Just barely,” There was a single chuckle from Shinguuji, referring to the two’s ‘survival of the year’ before he glanced back to meet Amami’s lime-irises: “Happy New Year, Rantarou. May spring come early, with all it’s beauty.. Kukuku…”
With that, the two raised their glasses, clinking them together before tilting their head backs and downing their drinks; a toast to this upcoming year, one hoping to promise serenity. But in this moment, the two were peaceful. All that remained heard was the rush of the wind and the wisps of bladed grass beneath the two young men. Yes , all their troubles would be gone, wouldn’t it? For Shinguuji heard no more whispers beyond the life, and Amami had found someone to raise and balance him mentally.. Yes , that toast sealed their future.
One where the two remained by each other’s side, one of knowledge and understanding.
The young men gave a single chuckle towards each other, their hands still entwined together, the shorter boy’s fingers running comfortingly over Shinguuji’s knuckles. The anthropologist only clenched his great friend’s hand back, meeting his eyes for a final time.. the last time before they were led into a new year.