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The fire cracked faintly in the hearth, he leaned into the safety between Kyoujurou's arms, his face was warmed by his heart that thumped in his chest, the winter howled outside of their house, but its paleness was ignored by Akaza, fire dances in his eyes, while Rengoku held onto his shoulder, he hid his face in the crook of Rengoku's neck, his fingers intertwined with his lover's calloused ones, sending hot tenderness throughout his veins.
Rengoku's hand was removed from his shoulder to slip into Akaza's dark locks, a contrast to the powdery frost covering the trees and mountains. His chest that rose and fell was in sync with Akaza's, whose eyes were half-lidded, cheeks illuminated gently by the flickering flame, he lies in Rengoku's embrace as they both hid away from the unforgiving season in the comfort of their home.
Akaza felt Rengoku lean his head against Akaza's, a faint exhale passes through his hair, prompting Akaza to take a deep breath and sigh out contently in a guise of a chuckle. "That day when we met, it was snowing too," Rengoku whispers against Akaza's temple, the smile on Akaza's lips remains, an expression he had learned from his lover after a year of living together.
Akaza showed up at his doorstep with a grin, covered in white by the blizzard, clumsily holding a tattered cloak over his head, although Rengoku's expression was nothing but shock and confusion, it only took one night for him to warm up to Akaza, as if they'd known each other before, with each word they exchanged, it felt as if they could predict the next. With each little gesture and a twitch in their expressions, it felt as if they understood each other. With the summer nights they spent gazing at the pitch-black sky, it felt like they were reminding each other of something they've lost long ago. They could be as simple as the cup-and-ball toy, or they could be as complicated as interweaving lives and memories, a longing for a faraway home.
It only took a month, a few blossoms of cherry trees, and a caress of a hand to form a bond deeper than any they've ever had.
At the break of dawn, Akaza would watch Rengoku embark onto another mission, with a sword by his waist and the colors of sunset burned into the haori that drapes from his shoulder, painted in Rengoku's locks. When they part, Rengoku's fingers would slowly slip away from Akaza's, as if wishing to hold onto this warmth longer.
If they were lucky, Rengoku would be able to return home after just a night or two, but no matter how long it takes for him, the desperate kiss that Rengoku would receive from Akaza never fails to make his heart jump. Akaza would cook him a meal that was tastier than any food that the Wisteria House could ever provide, as they sit by the engawa, he would lay his head in Akaza's lap, share conversations accompanied crickets sing in the woods, or sink in the tranquil of the night.
"Your eyes are beautiful," Rengoku would whisper to him, as he brought Akaza's knuckles up to his lips, it always made Akaza break a smile, lips parting to a small grin, his lake-colored eyes reflected the moon. Akaza ran his hand in Rengoku's mane, twirling a strand of vivid red and gold around his finger, before caressing Rengoku's cheek. "You'll need rest for all those wounds to heal," Akaza replied, watching Rengoku's eyes fall shut while he covers Akaza's hand with his own.
The blossoms of the spring lost its color under the silvery gleam, following the gust of breeze as it passes by, Akaza gazes down at Rengoku's serene expression, brushing his thumb across the skin under his eye, he listens closely to the sounds of the spring, a bird singing through the dark, falling asleep along to the golden orb that hangs in the mid-sky, new-grown leaves rustle under the fabric that was drying on a string.
Rengoku sat up and closed the little space between their faces, Akaza tilted his head to let Rengoku's lips meet his own. Each inhale, there was a scent of the man in front of him and the smell of the forest, and each exhale, his breath met Rengoku's cheek with another brush of the man's tongue against his. He leaned his back onto the floor with Rengoku's hands grasping his waist, Akaza peers up at the bright irises that loomed over him with a smile, a faint pulse of guilt and fear resounded somewhere deep inside him.
"If my eyes are no longer beautiful… Will you still love me?" Akaza whispered, his hands stroking Rengoku's cheek, whose voice flooded over every sound that Akaza could hear.
"Of course."
Akaza's eyes twinkled, bringing Rengoku's face closer to his own, felt the soft press of Rengoku's lips on his.
Each night, they fall asleep to the aching longing in their chests even as they lay by each other's side.
Just as ordinary as any other nights, except that the moon hangs more vibrantly in the clear summer night sky, Rengoku stumbles to the front of his home, breathing out in relief that he made it, the sharp buzzing of crickets and deafening hum filled in his ears, the door slid open without a sound, Akaza rushed to his side, an arm was slipped around him to support him, with the echoing voice ringing by his ear, he stepped into the dark void that Akaza led him into.
Akaza rested Rengoku onto his futon, holding onto Rengoku's hand, the taste of blood begins to seep in his mouth as he bit onto his own lip, holding back his tears that threaten to fall out of his eyes, he tries to keep his inhales as quiet as it could be, but as the cold fingers that touched his flushed cheeks, his tears rolled out of his eyes, burning his skin as it pearled on the wooden floor.
"It's okay," Rengoku said, his voice strangled and weak, struggling to keep his eyes open, Akaza let out a choked sob as he grasped Rengoku's hand, wishing it would turn warm at each of his rapid heartbeats. "Don't be scared, I'm okay," Rengoku's voice filled the dreadful silence of the room, his fingers clenched around Akaza's, although it only formed a pit of despair in his stomach when Akaza's hand felt like nothing but skin and flesh without any warmth, he kept his grip tight and took a deep breath as best as he could.
The night sneaks in through the translucent sheets of the shoji door, dust floats among the ray of moonbeam, as if silently watching the couple, while Akaza didn’t utter a word, quietly drying his tears, Rengoku still holds onto him, even as he slips into his slumber. There isn't the slightest movement of the wind, enveloped in darkness and silence, so quiet that Akaza could listen to each of Rengoku's difficult exhale, adjusting the blanket on Rengoku's chest, and strode to another room with soft footsteps, as he began weaving, bugs dance around the flame, his fingers work through the threads, while the candle melts along with the rise of the sun.
The chattering was faint from the other room, Akaza continues weaving at the loom, even as his blood stains the bandages on his fingers that Rengoku had patched him up in. His ears were attentive to a guest's voice, who was tending to Rengoku, a woman's voice, a cheery tone with a certain depth of threat and mystery.
"From the looks of it, it would be better for Rengoku-san to stay at the Butterfly Estate.
-Please forgive me for being straightforward, but perhaps you would have a better chance of surviving if there were people to take care of you."
Blood begins to seep through his bandages, as a drop of crimson dripped down from his fingertips, Akaza leans back and gazes down at his hands, although what he saw in front of his eyes, was Rengoku, his back facing Akaza, staring out to the sky, his jaw moving as he spoke.
"It's already starting to rot, I know I don't have much time left."
Akaza unwraps the fabric on his fingers, not even wincing when the pain pricked at the cuts that tore and bled. His vision starts to blur when a familiar sting sprung to his eyes and nose, listening to his husband's voice, he hunches over, holding his breath with his eyes shut, trying to bar the tears from flowing out.
"It's because of that, I want to spend the last days with someone important to me."
The room where he sits, the other where Rengoku was, all sounds were carried away by the screaming cicadas of the summer, and the browning leaves that somehow still holds onto its branches.
"Then, I understand."
The woman's voice wafted through their home, the shuffling of clothes were heard as she rose from the floor, the wood creaks under her gentle footsteps.
"I'll be delivering your words to them."
It was the last time Akaza ever heard her voice, so was Rengoku's.
"Thank you, Kocho."
As the lady of the Butterfly Estate departs, Akaza slowly slides the door open, a knot tightens in his chest at the bitter smell of medication and the bandages wrapped around Rengoku, he knelt by Rengoku's futon, Rengoku reached for his hand, swiping his thumb lovingly over Akaza's wounded fingers. "Your fingers are beautiful," he meets Akaza's glossy eyes, who lowered his gaze as he tried to hide his tears. "Even if my fingers are no longer beautiful," Akaza's pleaded, his voice hoarse and choked, their intertwined hands were blurred from his eyes, "Will you still love me?"
"Of course," Rengoku whispered, caressing Akaza's head, letting him to lean his head on his shoulder.
A knife in his hand, Akaza sliced his skin open, carefully letting his blood dribble into the bowl. The autumn wind blew the lives out of the maple leaves, falling before the sunset, Akaza's skin turns pale, his hair was an unusual color of cherry blossoms, looking more lively than any dying flowers among the fluttering red.
He saw himself in his own blood's reflection, he saw hideous carve of the number in his eyes, his darkened fingers held the wooden bowl in his hand. He slid the door open, catching Rengoku sitting by the engawa, facing toward the moon, drawing a long shadow across the room.
He rested the bowl aside, his hands clammy with sweat, he knelt behind Rengoku, he combs a strand of Rengoku's hair with his finger, it looked even brighter against his skin, his hand brushes against Rengoku's skin, more gently than he ever had been.
"Even if we're no longer human… Will you still love me?"
He whispered behind him, still fondling with Rengoku's locks, Rengoku doesn't move an inch for a few seconds, while the bug cries echoed in the bushes, leaves and fruits rot in the dirt, Rengoku leaned back, laying his head in Akaza's lap, he looked up at him.
"Of course."
He smiled up at Akaza, a demon, whose tears were purer than his pitch-black strikes, Rengoku trailed his hands over Akaza's arms, with moonlight sprinkled over them, he closed his eyes.
"Even now, I remember you who disappeared into the winter."
One life.
Akaza traveled through the layers of snow, in the middle of the night, he hides in the back alley between the houses, the lantern shone weakly in the Flame Pillar's hand, who met the eyes of a figure among the darkness. Even before one of them could even blink, Akaza had already pushed him onto the ground, messy strands adorned by specks of white, Akaza's hands which had restrained the man's wrists burned, in the way he knew he shouldn't feel. The irises stared back at him, aggressively- which Akaza fled from, into the darkness, his feet digging into the frost, he felt warmth, for the first time, in the winter.
Two lives.
In a guise of a human, he finds him again, in a house slightly secluded from the rest of the village. Maybe he came to kill, maybe he came for no reason, maybe he came to meet those eyes again.
Three-
The branches were stripped bare of its leaves, the weather is turning colder, so were Rengoku's hands.
He held his hand as they gazed at the snowflakes, with Rengoku laying in the snow, just like that night.
It would've come true, Akaza knew.
That night with Rengoku in the snow, this night with Rengoku in his arms.
The spilled blood in the snow only came a few years late.
Rengoku was his third life.