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The incessant drum of rain against the windows, wisteria scented linen, the flame of the lamp flickering frantically on the walls; you want to stay still in this moment forever.
Perfectly manicured fingers gingerly comb through your hair. "It's been so long since we've been together like this," there's a hint of sorrow in Shinobu's voice. Over the years she's gotten very good at hiding it but you can still tell it's there.
You smile in response, nuzzling into her thighs like a cat. "That's okay," you roll over to look up at her. "I'm just happy to be with you." That same dulcet smile she's always donning still paints her lips even now in the privacy of her bedroom. Shinobu's eyes however, are a different story.
They gaze upon you like twin amethysts exalted by the Gods. To be in her embrace and in the reflection of her irises is the closest thing you've felt to religion in a long time.
You're beautiful underneath her. It's been weeks since she even breathed in the same vicinity as you. With the increase in age came the increase in responsibility for the two of you unfortunately.
You had kept in touch by letter and once in a while visits, but it was never enough. Shinobu needed your presence, the sweet smell of your skin, the honeyed lilt of your voice– and so here you are now.
She's exhausted and yet she still makes time for you. You even catch her wincing every now and then from the most recent wound in her side– it makes your heart sink so fast you feel sick. You try so hard not to think about the agony she must have endured from the pain, the twisted expression on her face, the gore– Shinobu brushes her fingers over your baby hairs and you still.
The room is blanketed with silence as she continues her previous motions. The insect pillar studies your locks with fondness, slowing her movements and savoring the way your hair spills past her fingers like silk.
Shinobu is always proud of the way she can so easily lull you to sleep with just her fingers but slumber does not come to you easily tonight. Your shoulders are stiff and your fingers are fiddling with the fabric of her yukata.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, hand smoothing over your shoulder. You roll onto your back to look at her again with a deathly calm expression.
"You know, I've always been so afraid of us dying," you start. Memories of growing up with the woman above you flicker in your mind. The two of you were inseperable back then. Shinobu was your hero– she had sworn to you in secret that she would find some way to marry you when you were older.
You smile fondly up at her now. Gone was the naive glow of her face, the exhausted pallor of maturity in it's place now. The skin of her cheek is smooth under your finger tips. "But lately that's changed."
Shinobu lofts a single brow in confusion, smile waning just a fraction. The oddly serene quality of your face in contrast to the grim subject is concerning to say the least. "And why is that?" She leans into your touch, savoring the warmth of your palm as it slides down to the underside of her jaw instead.
You can remember so clearly the wounds scattered across her skin from a summer ago. She was staggering across the courtyard propped up only by her sword. There was so much blood you screamed and fainted at the sight. She never let you see her like that again.
Then there was the trip to the onsen in winter. The scars littering her body were faint, healed from her very own homemade ointment, yet still visible through the steam. You'd kissed them in the water and she'd cried in your arms for the first time in a long time.
It's no secret Shinobu has been through a lot.
And it's certainly no secret that her struggles will not cease.
Suddenly you're so close she can see the flutter of your lashes and the thin, spindly veins in your sclera. "Because you're mine right now, right? We have this moment at the very least together," her breath fans over your lips and you watch the pupils of her eyes expand like black ink in water.
The urge, no...the need to protect you resound through her body and soul.
You know the battle with Muzan draws near for the pillars, you know death looms over Shinobu, you know it will render you broken– and yet you smile.
You know this may very well be the last time you see her face. The last time you see that look that makes you feel like the only person in the world. Already, you mourn the loss of a spring wedding and her presence at the altar.
When she kisses you it's greedy and overwhelming and bittersweet. She tastes like the ginger and dark chocolate from dessert. Your eyes burn with tears threatening to spill forth. This may be the last time you lick the sweet from her tongue, the last time she cradles your head like it's something fragile, the last time she pins you to the sheets and tells you you're the person she loves the most.
She's alive right now though, isn't she? Her heart flutters against your chest and her hands are warm as they knead up and down your thighs. Here in this moment she is with you and breathing. Thunder crashes outside.
Her next kiss is sweeter, laced with desperation. She doesn't need words to understand. You cling to her and whisper your devotion into her skin. There is no promised tomorrow, only the present.
"Then I guess we shall make the most of it, yes?" she chuckles against the shell of your ear.
You could not agree more.