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“Oh, you’re still ugly as before,” comes the sudden voice from above him, childish and innocently cruel. “Ne, how come you’re still so short? Are you actually a dwarf?”
Chuuya grinds his teeth, mentally counting to a hundred just like what the Elders taught him for meditation. He manages to reach eight—a massive improvement compared to last time—before he huffs and puffs and waves his fists towards the stupid fox who keeps on appearing and taunting him. “S-Shut up! I’m still young! I’m still growing!”
He eats his meals properly—even if they’re quite bland and the portions are small and he’d really rather eat meat and those salty-smelling chips inside metal foils—and he makes sure to perform all of the meditation exercises properly. So he’s going to grow healthy and tall! He’s just taking his time, because slow and steady wins the race!
And then, he blinks and asks, “A dwarf? So they really exist?”
Dazai—the stupid fox with dark brown fur that reminds Chuuya of the earth after the rain, of the forests at night—peers at him, lone visible eye huge and curious. “You don’t even know about dwarves? Are you sure you’re actually a miko?”
“I so am! The Elders said so!”
It’s why he’s wearing the clothing that makes him feel like he’s drowning in them, layers of cloth stitched with protective enchantments so many that they’re a heavy, physical weight that he has to bear. It’s why he’s mostly left alone in this shrine with a steep cliff on one side and a dark, dense forest on the others. It’s why he can only eat bland foods and why he has to keep up with meditation exercises. It’s why he’s not allowed to speak with any other human aside from the Elders.
It’s quite lonely, truth be told.
Still, he considers himself lucky that Dazai, as the other had pointed out during their first meeting, is not a human being, and therefore, is someone that Chuuya can converse with. It’s the main reason why he doesn’t push through with his threats of making Dazai eat his fist, really. No matter how annoying the fox is, he’s still the only other one Chuuya can talk with during the lonely gaps of time when the Elders leave him behind. Even an annoying fox is better than absolute silence.
Especially since silence usually brings with it malevolent whispers that terrify Chuuya. Sometimes. Not all the time. He’s not a scaredy-cat, after all.
Dazai is peering at him again, like he’s some kind of mushroom that Dazai wants to eat. “Actually, isn’t a miko supposed to be a girl?”
“Huh? Really?”
“It is,” Dazai confirms, before jumping to invade his personal space, two hands reaching out to grab his chest, quickly bypassing the folds of his clothing and directly touching his skin. “Yup, you’re really a guy, huh.”
“—!!!” Chuuya’s eyes are as wide as plates, mouth flapping open and closed, a wordless scream bubbling out of his lips as he’s electrified into place by Dazai touching his chest all over. It takes him several moments before he’s able to recover and shove Dazai away, with a, “O-O-Of course I’m a guy!!!”
“Eh, you look prettier than the women I’ve seen,” Dazai says offhandedly, as though it isn’t basically the highest compliment he’s ever told Chuuya—the only compliment he’s ever said, over the months that they’ve known each other. He’s looking at both his hands with something like wonder, his two tails popping out from behind him, thumping and wagging excitedly. “Touching you feels weird.”
“W-Weird! You’re the one who’s weird!” Chuuya doesn’t want to admit it, but his chest feels like it’s being burned, like there’s some kind of fire that blazed out the moment Dazai touched him. “You’re not supposed to touch me! You’re—”
Chuuya trails off his complaints—because the Elders have a lot of rules for him to follow, and one of them is that he’s not supposed to be touched by anyone—as soon as he notices that Dazai’s fingertips are turning an ugly red, like he has been burned too.
“—Oi, are your hands okay?!”
Dazai blinks at him, before waving his fingers until the redness disappears. “You’re really such an interesting slug.”
Chuuya’s concern over the other is replaced by the usual flash of irritation, so he lets himself be drawn into a round of bickering, as always.
— — —
— — — — —
— — —
He waits for a few minutes, after he hears and feels Chuuya’s soft snores against him. The other’s heartbeat is at a slow and steady thrum; it’s one of the things he likes about the chibi, even if he’d never admit it out loud.
Unfettered as he is with his threats of violence and his tendency to chase wild animals in the forest whenever the two of them take their strolls there—Chuuya’s heartbeat is always calm. Never changing, always permanent. Dazai likes to listen to it whenever possible. He especially enjoys listening to it as a lullaby to lull him during their naptime.
Right now though, Dazai has certain things he wants to think about before he lets himself fall asleep beside Chuuya.
He raises his left hand, his right arm remaining around the chibi’s petite form, to keep him secure in this comfortable position. He removes the illusion he’s placed over his reddened fingertips—something that he’s hastily placed over his hands, because Chuuya’s concern is such a powerful thing, almost able to suffocate him on the spot.
His fingertips were burned, when they touched over Chuuya’s heart. The layers of clothes over Chuuya’s skin are many, making Chuuya appear like he’s being drowned alive by his clothes. It lessens the instances that he’s able to touch Chuuya’s skin directly, but the moments when they’ve touched skin-to-skin, there’s always been that burning sensation.
Nothing as severe as the one earlier.
Perhaps because it’s due to the sickening amount of spells woven over the other’s heart. He’s always thought it strange, that someone has been installed in this abandoned shrine. A shrine that used to be reserved for the worship of the god of calamity, Arahabaki.
It’s the main reason why he’s even appeared in front of Chuuya, all those months ago.
He’d been curious, very curious.
To kitsune like him, their curiosity is second only to their cunning.
He’d been very curious about the person who’s being left behind in the old epicenter of catastrophes. And he meets a chibikko who’s quite ridiculous and rather stupid, not realizing how weird it is to be called a ‘miko’ when there’s a huge mass of dark energy inside him.
He’s still very curious, even months later.
OdaSaku and Ango always warn him, whenever he leaves their nest to meet with Chuuya. To always be careful, to never be so attached with humans.
“It’s okay,” Dazai murmurs, dropping his hand back so that he’s playing with Chuuya’s hair instead, letting the action soothe him into sleep. “You’re not completely human either, so it’s okay.”
As though in response, snuffling noises pour out of Chuuya’s mouth as he snuggles closer, his weight heavy over his torso. Against his will, Dazai feels his tails appear again—something that only comes out in moments of great danger or trusting safety—lengthening until they’re able to wrap around Chuuya, keeping the other close to him.
He falls asleep to the hum of their intertwined breaths, both blessedly oblivious to the fact that the inchoate bond they’ve formed together is solidifying with each passing moment.