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The hot months were coming to an end, though the last weeks of summer were often the most unbearable. Sweat had become a seemingly permanent feature on Bokuto’s brow, and the heavy air made him feel as if he were swimming instead of walking down the dirt path leading into the rice fields. But life did not stop during these months, no matter how badly he may have wanted to spend his days wading in the pond near his home. There was still work to be done in the fields, and so Bokuto headed out early every morning, no matter the conditions.
Young and full of energy, Bokuto always worked hard during the harvesting season. He only stopped to take a break when the sun reached its peak in the sky and the other farmers gathered at one end of the field to eat lunch. At that time, as he often did, he headed back in the direction of his home, bento in hand. But he did not follow the path all the way back to his house. Instead, he stopped just a short distance away, where a great willow tree grew alongside the pond.
The tree had been there as long as anyone could remember. It was a favorite resting place for many people in the village, including Bokuto, and its long, hanging branches provided ample shade during the sweltering summer days. In the colder months, when the willow’s branches were covered in glittering snow, it presented a beautiful sight that made it easy to forget the hardships of winter.
More than anyone, Bokuto had grown incredibly fond of this tree. His home was just a short walk away, and it was the first thing he looked at from his window upon waking every morning. The willow’s familiar shape always bid him farewell on his way to the fields as well as welcomed him home after a long day of harvesting. More often than not, Bokuto prefered to eat his lunch under the cool shade of the tree, as he did today.
He had been sitting for only a few minutes when another man diverged from the dirt path and began hobbling across the field towards the willow. It was easy to recognize Ukai Ikkei, with his graying hair and unsteady gait. Bokuto often saw the old man selling his intricately-carved furnishings at the village market, though a farmer would never be able to afford anything of that sort.
“Hello, Bokuto,” Ukai greeted, crouching down in the shade beside the younger man. “It must be hard work in the fields this time of year. It seems this heat is never going to let up.”
“At least it’s cool beneath the willow,” Bokuto replied over a rather large mouthful of rice. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree as if to prove his point, glancing up at the branches hanging above him. There was very little wind and the tree was eerily still, as if it were holding its breath.
“Speaking of which,” Ukai began hesitantly, “there are many villagers who wish to build a bridge over the river that runs through the rice fields.”
“That would be great!” Bokuto sat up quickly, nearly choking on a dry lump of rice in his throat. He swallowed it painfully before continuing, “It’s always a pain to have to walk all the way around the river to get to the other side of the fields.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would help the farmers significantly,” the old man agreed, “but it would require quite a bit of timber. The only tree in the village large enough to fulfill our needs would be this willow here—”
“No!” Bokuto blurted out, startling a group of birds in the branches above. “You can’t cut down this tree! Is there nowhere else you can get your timber?”
Ukai sighed, gazing up at the willow stretching high above them. “I do not know. I have already felled many of the village’s trees to make my furnishings, and the surrounding forests are much too far.”
Bokuto was discouraged by these words, his hands dropping into his lap in defeat. He tried to imagine the villagers taking an axe to the willow, but every swing felt like a blow to his own chest. The thought of the great tree’s timber being trampled upon by dozens of feet every day was even worse, and suddenly the bridge did not seem like such a good idea anymore. Luckily, Bokuto wallowed in his sadness for only a moment before he came up with an idea.
“Ukai-san, you can cut down the trees behind my home! I used many of them to build my house, but there should still be enough for your bridge.”
“Hmm, that is very generous of you, Bokuto,” the old man said, a gentle smile on his withering face. “You must really care for this tree.”
Bokuto merely hummed in response, proud of himself for coming up with such a good plan. Ukai left soon after to inform the other villagers of the compromise, and the younger man finished his lunch in silence. He briefly lamented the loss of the trees behind his home, but after glancing up once more at the willow’s hanging branches, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision.
That evening, after returning home from the rice fields, Bokuto discovered that Ukai and a few others had already begun chopping down his trees. He listened to the relentless hammering of axes against wood while he ate dinner, and while he prepared the next day’s bento, and finally as he tried to fall asleep that night. He wondered if the men were planning to keep going until sunrise, and Bokuto eventually gave up on sleep altogether.
It took the young man only a few minutes to walk to the great willow tree, where the sound of Ukai’s axe was not quite so jarring. The branches were gently swaying now in the cool wind, and the pond reflected the full moon across its motionless surface. The scene was eerily hypnotic, and as Bokuto lay beneath the willow, gazing up at the stars between its branches, he began to wonder just how old the great tree was. He did not get to ponder this question for long, however, because soon enough his eyelids were drifting closed, and his mind plunged into nothingness.
Bokuto was startled awake by a chill running down his spine. Goosebumps covered his arms as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with cold fingers. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d fallen asleep. The moon was still high in the sky and Ukai’s axe had fallen silent at last, the only remaining sound being that of the fish splashing about in the pond.
The young farmer nearly jumped when he noticed a figure standing at the base of the willow tree just a few feet away. The slim man seemed to be watching Bokuto with silent curiosity, his body completely still except for the restless fidgeting of his fingers. Though it was hard to distinguish his features in the darkness, Bokuto was fairly certain the man wasn’t from the village.
“Hello!” he called out to the stranger, pushing himself to his feet. He took a few steps forward, trying to get a better look at his face. “Are you just passing through?”
“No,” a low, smooth voice responded. “I’m waiting for someone.”
Bokuto froze as a sliver of moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating the man’s face in a pale white light. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful person Bokuto had ever seen, with shiny dark curls and hooded eyes that seemed to glow like emeralds in the darkness. The material of his kimono appeared far too expensive to be seen in a simple farming village, and even the way the man carried himself suggested he was from some far away land.
A blush rose to Bokuto’s face as he realized he’d been staring at the stranger for a bit too long.
“Waiting for someone?” the farmer repeated, forcing his eyes away from the man’s face. He instead focused on the intricate pattern of lotus blossoms on his kimono. “Are you meeting someone from this village?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” Bokuto replied dumbly. His face fell as he wondered who the man could be waiting for, though there was no doubt it was someone much more refined than himself. “I’ll leave you alone, then. I hope whoever it is you’re waiting for shows up soon.”
“He isn’t coming now,” the stranger responded, stopping Bokuto dead in his tracks.
“What? Why not?” Bokuto asked, turning back to face the beautiful man. “Did he stand you up? If so, he must be pretty stupid.”
“He did not stand me up.”
“What do you mean? I thought you said he wasn’t coming!”
“He has been here all along,” the man explained, motioning up towards the branches above them. “His heart lies under this willow tree.”
Bokuto glanced up at the gently swaying branches, confusion pulling his brows together tightly. He’d never heard anyone speak so criptically before, except for maybe his grandmother, and Bokuto wondered if he was missing something. He opened his mouth to ask exactly who it was he was waiting for, but the beautiful man was already gone.
Bokuto looked everywhere for the stranger but came up empty handed as he returned home late into the night. He had work to do in the morning, as he always did, so he reluctantly laid down and tried to get as much sleep as he could before sunrise.
Though he rarely dreamt at all, that night Bokuto’s mind was filled with dark curls and lotus blossoms.
Ukai and his men were already working on the bridge by the time Bokuto arrived in the fields the next morning. He briefly wondered how such an old man could get up so early when he himself was so tired from the previous night. The sun’s heat wasn’t making the situation any better, and by the time lunch rolled around, Bokuto was exhausted.
“Are you going to eat with us today, Bo?” Kuroo asked, gesturing to where most of the farmers had gathered at the edge of the fields.
“No, I forgot to bring my bento,” Bokuto replied truthfully. He’d been too out of it that morning to remember his lunch, but thankfully it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience to walk home and get it. Unlike most of the rice farmers, Bokuto didn’t live very far from the fields.
“Idiot, make sure you bring it tomorrow.” Kuroo punched him in the shoulder with a grin before leaving to join the others.
But even as his stomach was begging him for food, Bokuto did not go home. The image in his mind of the beautiful man from the night before urged him towards the great willow tree, where he sat and waited in silence until it was time to head back to the fields. He was disappointed to have wasted his lunch break, but he knew it was unrealistic to expect the man to still be there. He’d probably found who he was looking for and left the village already, and Bokuto would certainly never see him again.
For some reason, the thought made his heart ache.
That night while he was eating dinner, Bokuto found himself gazing out the window at the old willow tree. Its branches loomed over the pond like long fingers, their reflection giving the impression of a hand rising up from the water. He remembered swimming in that pond as a child, playing a game with his friends to see who could jump high enough out of the water to grasp one of the willow’s hanging branches. Now that he was much bigger, he was sure he would be able to perform that task easily, but it felt almost wrong somehow.
It was as if the willow didn’t want to be touched.
A strong gust of wind blew the long branches to one side, making it look like the tree was about to topple over. As the wind died down again and the willow returned to its resting position, Bokuto was surprised to see a white figure standing at the edge of the pond. He jumped up and ran outside to get a better look, and to his delight, the figure was still there. After blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, Bokuto took off down the dirt path, his heart racing faster than his legs. While it usually took him at least a few minutes to reach the great willow, this time he closed the distance in less than one.
More importantly, the stranger from the previous night was still there, silently observing his approach.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto huffed, feeling his excitement rushing out of him as he stood before the beautiful man once more. “You’re still here! Did you find who you were looking for?”
“Yes, Bokuto-san,” the man replied, and though his face was neutral, something in his eyes seemed to be smiling. Bokuto blushed at the sound of his name on the stranger’s lips.
“How do you know my name?” he asked hesitantly, watching as the stranger crouched down to sit cross-legged in the grass. He didn’t seem to care if his kimono got dirty, though Bokuto was sure the material cost much more than Ukai’s fancy woodwork.
“That’s what the other villagers call you, isn’t it?” the man replied vaguely.
“I guess so.” Bokuto moved to sit across from the other man, careful to keep a bit of distance between them. He had at least a dozen questions he wanted to ask the stranger, but he was afraid he would scare him off like the night before. After a moment of thought, he decided to start with something simple.
“What should I call you?”
“My name is Akaashi Keiji,” the man answered easily, startling Bokuto. He had been sure the man was going to respond with some sort of strange riddle or proverb, but this was much easier.
“Nice to meet you, Akaashi!” Bokuto flashed a wide smile at the other man, attempting to conceal the nervousness he felt. “I’m really glad I got to see you again! You seem really interesting and I think you’re definitely the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, so I was wondering if you maybe wanted to be friends? Not that I only want to be friends because you’re beautiful! That’s definitely one of the reasons, but I also just want to get to know you better, you know? Wait, I don’t think I’m saying this right…”
Bokuto trailed off, growing more and more embarrassed the longer his rambling went on. He glanced up at Akaashi, expecting him to have already disappeared again, but the other man was very much still there. His face was turned to the side, and Bokuto thought he saw a hint of pink coloring the man’s cheeks.
“I would like that, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said quietly. “To be friends, I mean.”
“Really?” Bokuto was grinning so wide his face was starting to hurt, but he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. “Does that mean I can see you again tomorrow?”
“If you come, I will be here.”
“Of course I’ll come!” Bokuto promised, quickly taking the other man’s hand in his own. Akaashi looked startled as the taller man hauled him to his feet. “Do you want to walk around the pond with me? The willow tree looks really pretty from the other side.”
“That sounds nice, Bokuto-san.”
Their hands still clasped together, the farmer led his new friend around the edge of the water, picking cattails and pointing out a group of koi gathered in the shallows. Akaashi was silent as the other man told him about his day in the rice fields, merely nodding his head along with Bokuto’s animated storytelling. Occasionally the taller man would look back to make sure Akaashi was still there, and his lips stretched into a bright smile every time their eyes met. He was overjoyed to have someone new to talk to, but he was also waiting for the moment his new friend would disappear, just like the night before.
“Hey, hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto began, turning towards the other man with a sheepish expression. “You can tell me if I’m talking too much, okay? Kuroo tells me I can be pretty obnoxious sometimes.”
“I enjoy listening to you talk, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi admitted, emerald eyes locked onto Bokuto’s golden ones. He felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, and Bokuto had to turn back around to hide the blush on his cheeks.
“You don’t have to lie, ‘Kaashi,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The other man seemed like he was going to protest again but was cut off by a sudden squawk from Bokuto.
“Look, Akaashi! We’re here!”
The two men stopped at the far edge of the pond and Bokuto plopped down into the grass, patting the space beside him eagerly. Even after Akaashi was seated next to him, Bokuto remained uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes were focused on the great willow tree at the other end of the pond, and it seemed like the serenity of the atmosphere had soaked up all his nervous energy.
“I always liked how the willow looked from this angle,” he said, finally glancing over at Akaashi with a smile. “I mean, it looks beautiful from any angle, but this is a side that not many people have seen, you know?”
“You must be very fond of this tree.” There was an odd expression on Akaashi’s face that Bokuto couldn’t quite place. If he were better at perceiving emotions, he would say the other man even looked a bit sad.
“Of course!” Bokuto proclaimed. “I love the willow.”
“But why?” Akaashi asked, looking skeptical. “Isn’t it just a tree?”
“Just a tree?” the farmer repeated, turning his head to gaze at the willow. “No, it’s more than that! It’s really big and pretty and it’s nice to sit under, but that’s not why I like it. I’m not very good with words so I might not be able to explain it very well, but it’s like… when I see the willow I get this feeling like I can take things slow for once. Like it doesn’t matter whether I’m loud and annoying or gloomy and depressed, the willow will always be there to help me sort things out.”
Bokuto glanced at Akaashi out of the corner of his eye, expecting his new friend to start laughing at him like Kuroo definitely would have. He was instead surprised to see a gentle curve of a smile on the man’s lips, not taunting but content.
“You’re very insightful, Bokuto-san,” he said softly.
Bokuto gawked at him for a moment, waiting for him to take the words back. No one had ever complimented the farmer’s intelligence before, not that he really deserved it, anyway. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, an embarrassed heat rising to his face.
“That’s not true. Everyone in the village knows I’m not smart,” he muttered, looking down at the grass between his toes. “You haven’t seen all the dumb stuff I’ve done over the years.”
“Making mistakes does not make you dumb,” Akaashi stated, catching Bokuto’s eyes with his own. The taller man felt his face grow even hotter under the other’s intense gaze.
“Yeah, well, I bet you’re a whole lot smarter than I am.” He turned away from the emerald eyes, scrambling forward for a rock to skip across the pond.
The other man didn’t respond, just watched as Bokuto expertly flicked rock after rock across the surface of the water. Eventually, when there were no more rocks within arm’s reach, they both laid back on the grass and looked up at the night sky.
Akaashi pointed out the groupings of stars above them, recalling each of them by name, and Bokuto resisted the urge to ask how he knew so much. He had a feeling the other man didn’t like to talk about himself, and Bokuto didn’t want to risk scaring him away again. Even so, he had the feeling their time together that night was coming to an end.
Bokuto fought to stay awake beside Akaashi, but he couldn’t hold out for very long before he was finally drifting to sleep. When he awoke the next morning, his friend was gone, and he had to leave for work in the fields.
Bokuto didn’t tell anyone else about Akaashi. He worked alongside the other farmers, but for once he did not take part in their usual chatter. His mind was still underneath the willow tree, with the sound of rustling branches and the memory of fidgeting fingers.
When it was finally time to return home, Kuroo approached him and asked if he wanted to come to his house to visit. Bokuto desperately wanted to turn down the offer, thinking of Akaashi waiting for him by the willow tree, but Kuroo was insistent.
“Ohoho, do you have a lover waiting for you at home?” Kuroo teased, raising a mocking eyebrow. Bokuto thought about telling him the truth, but for some reason he felt like he should keep his meetings with Akaashi a secret. If he told Kuroo about the beautiful man, he would definitely want to meet him, and he would probably bring Kenma along, too. Akaashi didn’t seem like the sort of person who liked too much attention, and Bokuto didn’t want to jeopardize their new friendship. So he followed Kuroo home that evening, promising to stay for just an hour or so.
But after being in the house for only a few minutes, Kuroo insisted Bokuto come with him on a walk up the river.
“I heard there’s some sort of fox spirit living in a cave just north of the village,” he said, elbowing his friend in the side. When Bokuto looked unimpressed, he added, “and if you catch the spirit, they say it’ll grant you three wishes.”
That was all it took to excite the owlish man, and the two farmers set out on their journey up the river. Bokuto wasn’t sure what he would wish for if they caught the fox spirit, but he was certain Akaashi would be impressed with him for the act alone. That thought kept him in high spirits for the first hour of their trek, but he soon became disheartened.
“How much further is the cave?” he asked his friend, glancing up at the setting sun. At this rate, even if they turned back now they wouldn’t be home before nightfall. What was the point in catching the fox spirit if he didn’t get to tell Akaashi about it?
“Patience, Bo.” Kuroo gave him a lopsided grin and Bokuto began to wonder if his friend had been telling the truth about the spirit. Luckily, he didn’t have to wallow in his doubts for long before the river led them to a giant lake surrounded by a dense forest. More importantly, they could see the opening of a small cave on the other side. Kuroo turned towards him with a smug smile. “You were doubting me, weren’t you?”
“No!” Bokuto shook his head, but his friend only laughed.
“You can’t lie, Bo. Your eyes give you away. Now come on.” Kuroo led the way towards the cave, the owlish man skipping behind him eagerly. Akaashi was going to think he was so brave for catching the fox spirit, and all his remaining doubts were absorbed by this thought.
Unfortunately, after over an hour of searching, they found no fox spirit. The only thing Bokuto discovered was a smooth green rock that he thought to bring back to Akaashi, but he felt like an idiot. Of course there hadn’t been any fox spirit. Who knew where Kuroo had heard that rumor, or if he had even heard it at all. This wouldn’t have been the first time he’d dragged Bokuto out on an aimless journey just for the hell of it.
The walk home was long and depressing. Though Kuroo didn’t seem to be too disappointed in their failure, Bokuto was upset to be returning home with nothing more than a rock. Not only that, but the sun had already set while they were in the cave.
As they made the long journey home, Bokuto began to worry that Akaashi would grow tired of waiting for him. He hurried Kuroo along towards the village, and though his friend seemed suspicious, he said nothing. At last they parted ways at the edge of the rice fields, and Bokuto did not even stop to say goodbye before taking off towards his home.
Bokuto sprinted through the fields, cursing the unfinished bridge as he turned to circle around the river. By the time he made it to the great willow tree, he was bent over at the waist and gasping for breath.
“Bokuto-san?” A familiar voice made him snap up straight, and he ran a hand through his hair to push back the strands that had fallen into his face.
“Akaashi!” Bokuto greeted with a grin, hoping to hide how winded he was.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” the other man admitted, twisting his fingers together in front of him. He was in the same white kimono as the previous two nights, lotus blossoms scattered across the fabric.
“I wanted to come sooner, but Kuroo made me come with him to look for some fox spirit,” Bokuto explained as he sank down into the grass. He was exhausted, and he knew he should have been going to sleep soon, but he didn’t want to miss a second of his time with Akaashi. “So we walked all the way up to this cave where the thing was supposed to live, but there wasn’t any fox spirit! I should have known Kuroo was lying, but I guess I just really wanted to impress you so I went anyway.”
“Impress me?” Akaashi looked at him with an amused expression and Bokuto wanted to slap himself for running his mouth again. He had planned on telling some grand tale about how he’d managed to capture the elusive fox spirit, but all he’d done so far was make a fool of himself. Akaashi seemed happy though, and his shining eyes reminded Bokuto of something.
“I may not have captured the spirit, but I did find this…” The farmer reached into his kimono for the greenish rock he’d found in the cave. He held it out to Akaashi, who accepted it gently into his cupped hands. “I know it’s just a rock, but I thought it was really pretty and it reminded me of you. I’ll understand if you don’t want to keep it, though. I mean, you probably don’t want to have to carry a stupid rock around everywhere. You could probably just throw it in the pond or—”
“I love it, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi cut him off, gazing down at the stone in his hands. When he finally looked back up at Bokuto, there was a small smile on his face. “I’ll keep it with me forever.”
“Forever?” The farmer looked dazed as he observed Akaashi’s subtle satisfaction. He wasn’t quite sure why the man would be so passionate about a rock, but Bokuto was just glad his trip to the cave hadn’t been for nothing. “Forever is a really long time, isn’t it?”
Akaashi laughed then, a small chuckle that was barely audible above the crickets’ chirping, but a laugh nonetheless. And if there was one thing that made Bokuto’s heart race faster than Akaashi’s smile, it was his laugh.
Weeks passed and the days grew shorter as autumn rolled through the village. The leaves of the willow faded to a pale yellow before finally drifting down to their resting place at the base of the tree. Not a day went by that Bokuto didn’t visit Akaashi, and they often laid back on the blanket of fallen leaves and talked about whatever came to their minds. Or, more accurately, Bokuto provided the conversation while Akaashi listened contentedly. The beautiful man seemed especially happy to listen to the farmer boast about the beauty of the willow tree, though he listened to Bokuto’s stories with rapt attention no matter the topic.
It wasn’t until nearly two months after their first meeting that the two men thought about venturing away from the comfort of the willow.
“Do you ever think about what it would be like to be an owl?”
Bokuto was leaning his back against the trunk of the tree, gazing up into the branches above. Akaashi was seated beside him, their knees just a hair’s width apart. It took a moment for the man to mull over the question.
“I suppose it would be fairly boring.”
“Akaashi!” Bokuto turned to look at his friend in offense. “How could you say that? I think it would be amazing! You could fly anywhere you wanted and you’d never have to work or clean or help your dumb friend Kuroo patch his roof or—”
The farmer cut himself off as he noticed Akaashi’s shoulders trembling. At first, Bokuto thought the other man was laughing at him, but the way Akaashi had his knees hugged to his chest made him realize just how frigid the air had gotten during the night.
“You’re cold!” Bokuto cried, ashamed he hadn’t noticed earlier. Now that he was looking more closely, Bokuto could see the tremor of the other man’s hands and the red bite of the wind on his cheeks.
“I’m all right, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi assured him, sitting up a bit straighter against the bark. He offered a small smile of reassurance, but the slight quiver of his lips gave away his discomfort.
“You can come to my house!” the farmer blurted out, though he wished he could take the words back as soon as they left his mouth. He was terrified of pushing Akaashi too far. The furthest they’d strayed from the willow tree until now was to the other side of the pond, and Bokuto wasn’t sure if the man even wanted a friendship that extended outside that space. Akaashi undoubtedly had a life of his own outside their time spent at the willow tree, a life infinitely more interesting than that of a farmer.
Bokuto deflated under the other man’s silence, nearly a minute passing before Akaashi finally spoke.
“I don’t want to intrude, Bokuto-san.”
His head snapped up to look at Akaashi, who was watching him closely. Hope blossomed in his chest as he realized he hadn’t been outright rejected.
“You won’t be intruding!” he promised, eyes wide as he turned to face his friend. “I live alone and it kind of gets lonely sometimes, so it would make me really happy if you came to visit. We could eat dinner together and tell stories or do whatever you want! Um, but only if you want to. I wouldn’t force you to come or anything…”
There was another long silence as Akaashi’s eyes skimmed his face, and Bokuto was once again taken aback by how beautiful the other man was. His eyelashes were long and dark, casting shadows across his cheeks under the light of the moon. Bokuto’s gaze settled on the other’s full lips, and their color reminded him of the camellias that grew along the edges of the rice fields. He decided he would gather a bundle of them tomorrow and bring them back for Akaashi. That would be far better than a rock, he was sure.
“You have very honest eyes, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi finally said, his voice even quieter than usual. There was a subtle smile pulling at his lips, and Bokuto quickly looked away.
“That’s what Kuroo always says,” he muttered, ashamed of his blatant staring. But Akaashi’s lack of rejection kept him hopeful, and so he forged ahead. “I have a lot of blankets at home that Kenma made for me, and they’re all really warm! If you come to visit, you can use as many of them as you want. Or if you would rather stay out here, I could run and get them, but I thought maybe you’d want to sit in front of the fire—”
Bokuto yelped as he felt something cold touch his wrist. He glanced down to see long fingers weaving between his own, the contact sending a shiver up his spine. He looked back up at Akaashi with wide eyes.
“Lead the way,” the beautiful man told him, still smiling gently. It took a few moments for Bokuto to regain control of his body, especially with Akaashi looking at him like that, but it wasn’t long before the farmer was on his feet.
Akaashi’s hand in his, Bokuto was all but skipping down the dirt path towards his home. Mind submersed in thoughts of spending time with Akaashi, he didn’t even notice that Ukai and his men were once again chopping away at the trees nearby. It was only when the old man called out to him that Bokuto was shaken from his thoughts.
“Bokuto, what are you doing out so late?” Ukai asked, leaning on his axe like a cane. “You farmers get up pretty early, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” Bokuto responded nervously, looking up at the moon as if he had just noticed its presence. He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his nightly visits with Akaashi just yet, but he had no choice now. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he began, “Ukai-san, this is my new friend, Aka—”
But there was no longer anyone standing behind him— no emerald eyes or pale skin or dark curls. Just the empty howling of the wind and the swaying branches of the willow tree in the distance.
Bokuto’s heart dropped into his stomach as he spun in a circle, scouring the area for a familiar white kimono with lotus blossoms, but to no avail. Akaashi was gone.
“Sorry, Bokuto. I have to get this timber to the fields.” He faintly heard Ukai excuse himself, but Bokuto’s mind was somewhere else entirely. Despair gripped at his chest as he realized what he’d done.
Bokuto had been too caught up in his own thoughts to think about the possibility of someone else being at his house. He’d finally managed to gain Akaashi’s trust only to betray it a moment later, and he had no one to blame but himself if he never saw the beautiful man again.
The farmer sank down against the side of the house, watching as Ukai’s men dragged their slabs of tinder down the dirt path leading into the fields. When their voices eventually faded into the distance, Bokuto was left with nothing to listen to but his own thoughts.
Things would go back to the way they were before he’d met Akaashi. He would wake up every day and go to work in the fields, then come home and sleep until the next morning when he would do it all over again. This routine had never bothered him too much before, but now that he’d lost the one thing he had to look forward to, he didn’t think he could bear it.
A few minutes passed before the chill of the night began to settle in his bones. He managed to pick himself up off from the grass and stumble into the house, suddenly very tired despite the excitement that had fueled him half an hour before. Just as he was about to close the door, a smooth voice from behind sent a shiver down his spine.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Bokuto-san?”
At first, the farmer thought he must have been hearing things. The wind was strong, after all, and it would be easy enough to imagine it was speaking to him. But when he turned to look behind him, there was a white figure blocking his view of the willow tree in the distance. Bokuto’s heart leapt in his chest at the sight of the man’s familiar dark curls and emerald eyes.
“Akaashi?” Bokuto breathed, not quite believing what he was seeing. He didn’t dare to move even an inch for fear of the man disappearing again. “You came back?”
“I am sorry for running away,” Akaashi said, no longer able to meet Bokuto’s earnest gaze. “I understand if you are angry with me.”
“No, I should be the one apologizing!” Bokuto cried, unable to stop himself from reaching out to grasp the other’s hand. The smooth coolness of Akaashi’s skin against his own made it harder to concentrate, but he felt more determined than ever. “I should have warned you that Ukai’s men might be here. I was just so excited for you to come visit that I wasn’t thinking enough, and I’m really sorry.”
“Bokuto-san, I don’t want you to apologize for my weakness,” Akaashi said sternly, finally lifting his gaze to match Bokuto’s. There was a new emotion in his eyes, something plaintive and regretful. “You try to blame yourself because you are kind, but I am the one who ran away. And for that, I apologize. I will try to be stronger in the future.”
Akaashi looked more distressed than Bokuto had ever seen him, eyebrows drawn together and lips set in a thin line. He was obviously very upset with himself, and Bokuto wanted nothing more than to make him smile again.
The farmer opened his mouth to speak, to make some sort of joke at his own expense, but Akaashi stopped him with a pale hand over his lips. When it appeared he was going to remain silent, Akaashi slid the hand up to rest on Bokuto’s cheek, long fingers carding through the dark hair by his ear.
“Can we please go inside, Bokuto-san?” he asked, locking eyes with the taller man. “It’s cold out here.”
A deep blush began to creep up Bokuto’s face, and he was sure Akaashi could feel it under his palm. The farmer stuttered a bit, all too aware he was making a fool of himself, until finally he managed to form a coherent response.
“Of course we can go inside! That’s what houses are for, right?”
Bokuto spun around to open the door once more, though he did not make it far before he tripped over his own feet and planted his face into the dirt. He lay there for a few seconds, overwhelmed by his own misfortune and embarrassment before lifting his head to apologize for his clumsiness.
But Akaashi was faced away from him now, shoulders shaking with laughter despite his obvious efforts to hide it. It was the first time Bokuto had seen the other man laugh, and the sight brought a wide smile to the farmer’s dirty face.
Bokuto’s house was not particularly comfortable, but Akaashi did not seem to mind. The man looked as ethereal as ever, even crouching on the dirt floor before the tiny hearth in a swaddle of raggedy blankets. Bokuto sat beside him, slightly nervous to have Akaashi see the true state of his meager living, but all the more excited to have his new friend come to visit.
Late into the night, the farmer forced himself to stay awake despite his drooping eyelids and sluggish thoughts. Yet no matter how many hours passed, Akaashi never seemed to grow tired. His hooded eyes were as steady as ever as he watched Bokuto prod incessantly at the fire to keep it going.
“Hey, Akaashi?” the farmer began, voice thick with exhaustion despite his efforts to hide it. “Where are your parents? They must be worried about you, being away from home for so long.”
He thought the question was innocent enough, but he did not receive an immediate response. Bokuto glanced warily at the man next to him, afraid he might have offended him, but Akaashi looked as peaceful as ever as he stared into the fire.
“Bokuto-san, can I ask you a question?” the man spoke up after a long stretch of silence.
“Of course! I’ll answer anything you ask me, you know. Anything!”
Akaashi gave a small smile at his eagerness. “Do you love me, Bokuto-san?”
This was perhaps the question the farmer had least expected to hear, and his surprise was apparent. He let out a stunned cry, much like the squawk of a bird, and almost dropped the hot fire poker on his own foot. Only after making sure the metal rod was placed safely on the floor did Bokuto turn back toward the man beside him, mouth agape.
“Wh-why would you ask that all of a sudden, Akaashi?”
“Are you not willing to answer my question, Bokuto-san?”
The farmer hesitated for only a moment before shaking his head. “Of course I love you, Akaashi! You’re one of my best friends. You always listen to my stories and you don’t make fun of me, and I really like being around you, Akaashi! I don’t know what I’ll do when you have to leave.”
Bokuto’s face fell as he said that last part, his heart already aching for something that hadn’t even happened yet. He couldn’t pout for too long, however, as Akaashi leaned over to gently pinch his cheek.
“I’m glad to hear you enjoy spending time with me, Bokuto-san,” he said with a warm smile. He still had one hand resting on Bokuto’s face, his palm cool despite the warmth of the fire before them. “I also enjoy spending time with you. But there are things you cannot ask me, do you understand?”
“Things I can’t ask?” Bokuto tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”
“What you asked me just a minute ago, about my parents,” Akaashi explained. “I will tell you now that I have no father or mother, and you must not ask about it anymore. Someday you will understand, but for now you must simply promise to ask no more. If you can do that, for the sake of your love for me, I will never leave you, Bokuto-san.”
The poor farmer was stunned for only a moment, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a look of determination as he grabbed Akaashi’s hands and held them between his own.
“I promise, Akaashi! I’ll never ask about your parents again,” he vowed, holding the other man’s gaze with his wide, golden eyes. “So then, you’ll really never leave?”
Akaashi didn’t say anything in response, but the small smile on his lips made all of Bokuto’s worries fade away alongside the dying fire in the hearth. Just as the last of the flames went out, ceding the small house to darkness, Bokuto felt a pair of soft lips press against his own.
“I love you, too, Bokuto-san.”
When the farmer awoke the next morning, he was ecstatic to find that Akaashi was still lying in bed next to him. When he returned from the fields that evening, Bokuto couldn’t help but hoot with joy as he saw the beautiful man waiting for him by the front door of his house. No matter where Bokuto went, whether it was to the land of dreams or to the rice fields, Akaashi was always waiting for him when he came back.
As promised, Bokuto never spoke of Akaashi’s family again, nor did he tell any of the other villagers about the otherworldly man living in his house. They lived peacefully together as the winter months came and went, huddled together in front of the cramped hearth from dawn until dusk.
It wasn’t until the ground thawed and the spring air settled over the village that Bokuto had to return to the fields to work. Although he’d enjoyed spending his winter days alone with Akaashi, he knew he had to work hard to support them both. Not only that, he wanted to save up enough money to buy Akaashi a new kimono, since he only seemed to have the one.
During his first day back in the fields, however, Bokuto heard some disturbing news as he listened to the other farmers’ banter.
“I hear the emperor plans to build a grand temple for the goddess of mercy,” one man began. “Maybe I will go there to pray for my sick daughter after it is finished.”
“Ah, have you not seen all the authorities passing through recently?” another man asked. “The local magistrates have been searching the land for quality timber. They even plan to cut down our great willow!”
“What an honor that will be, to have our willow become part of one of the emperor’s temples.”
“Very true. Perhaps it will bring good luck to our village.”
Bokuto couldn’t help but freeze upon hearing this conversation, a cold chill running down his spine at the thought of the great willow being cut down. That evening, instead of running straight home to Akaashi like usual, he walked down the path to the old willow by the pond. Sure enough, there was a group of men standing beneath the dangling limbs. Only one of them was familiar.
“Ukai-san!” Bokuto yelled, earning the attention of the group of men. They all turned to see the dirty farmer approaching them, and some even turned up their noses as he approached. “Ukai-san, you can’t cut down the old willow! You can’t!”
“Oh, Bokuto.” The old man rubbed the back of his neck with some guilt. “I’m afraid this time we don’t have a choice. The order came straight from the magistrate, and no other would provide such quality timber as this great willow.”
“But what about the trees by my house?” Bokuto offered up weakly.
“Which trees?” Ukai responded with a harsh sigh. “We cut them all down to make our bridge. I’m sorry, Bokuto. There is nothing that can be done. The great tree will come down tomorrow night.”
The farmer’s face fell at the old man’s words, but he did not argue any further. It appeared there truly was nothing that could be done. All Bokuto could do was sit beneath the old willow one last time, looking up at its branches with a sorrowful gaze. He stayed there long after the group of men had left, consumed by a dull ache in his heart. Before he knew it, the sun had begun to set, and still he made no move to leave his spot at the base of the tree.
He was eventually startled by the sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see Akaashi standing in front of him with a worried expression.
“You didn’t come home,” he stated blankly, moving to sit beside Bokuto on the grass.
In all his pouting, the farmer had actually forgotten there was someone waiting for him at home!
“I’m so sorry, Akaashi.” Bokuto grabbed the man’s hand and held it in his lap. “I’m just a little depressed is all. I wasn’t going to stay out here all night, I promise.”
“What made you so depressed?” Akaashi asked him, eyes full of concern. That expression quickly warmed Bokuto’s heart, and the farmer couldn’t help but lean down to kiss the man’s cold fingers.
“It’s nothing too bad, I guess,” he finally said. “They’re going to cut down this old willow tree to build a temple for the emperor, and I wish they wouldn’t. You know I’ve always loved this tree.”
Bokuto didn’t take notice of the strange expression on Akaashi’s face before he continued, “This tree holds so many good memories. It’s where I met you, Akaashi! That was one of the best days of my life. Before I met you, I couldn’t have lived through seeing the old willow get cut down. But now that you’re here, at least I will have someone to remember it with me. Right, Akaashi?”
The other man seemed a bit out of sorts as he gazed into Bokuto’s hopeful eyes. But his expression quickly returned to normal, and he gave Bokuto a small smile before nodding his head.
“Of course, Bokuto-san. I’ll always be here with you.”
And so the farmer could no longer feel too bad about the old willow tree’s impending demise. He even managed to push the thought to the back of his mind as he went out to the village market the next day to buy Akaashi a new kimono. He had originally intended to save up a bit first, but he decided he couldn’t wait to see the look on the other man’s face when he received the gift. After all, Akaashi made him happier than anything else, so this was the least he could do.
And so Bokuto spent nearly all his winter savings on a finely woven kimono the color of jade, the same color as Akaashi’s eyes. It was by far the most expensive thing the farmer had ever purchased, and the woman he bought it from looked at him with suspicious eyes as he handed over a fistful of coins.
It was well worth it, however, when Bokuto presented the garment to Akaashi, who almost looked like his face would split open with how wide his smile was. He couldn’t help but try on the kimono immediately, discarding his old one on a pile of old rags in the corner. After running his hands over the fabric a few dozen times, Akaashi wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s shoulders and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
As the sun began to set and the two men were huddled together in the small bed, Bokuto nearly even forgot about the fate of the old willow tree outside. He was just dozing off, with Akaashi lying comfortably against his chest, when he was suddenly awakened by a piercing scream right by his ear.
He immediately bolted upright, pulling Akaashi into his arms as the man writhed and sobbed like Bokuto had never seen before.
“Akaashi! What’s wrong?” he cried, grabbing the man’s hands and squeezing them tight. “Are you hurt somewhere? Please, tell me what’s wrong!”
But Akaashi could not answer, his screams stopping only when he had to catch his breath. It was during one of these brief moments of silence that Bokuto heard the sound of an axe’s blow in the distance, solid and unyielding. With every swing of the axe, Akaashi’s wails seemed to only grow more pained.
“Koutarou,” the man gasped between bouts of immense pain. “Koutarou, everything is dark. They are killing me! They are killing me!”
“Akaashi! Please, what is going on?” Bokuto began to sob, holding the other man tightly in his arms.
“It is not much longer until I must go,” Akaashi rasped, his whole body shaking like a leaf. “Koutarou, you must listen to me. Even the mightiest axe cannot cut down a love such as ours. I will be waiting for you. Please, hold my hands tighter.”
Bokuto was no longer capable of words, and only a strangled sob escaped his lips as he hunched over the beautiful man beside him. Then, as quickly as it had come, the sound of the mighty axe came to an abrupt halt. Bokuto lifted his eyes to the window to witness the old willow tree fall. It creaked and moaned to the heavens as it came crashing down to the dirt, its branches now lying motionless in the grass.
Bokuto’s eyes lingered there for only a moment. But when his gaze returned from the window, his arms were already empty. Akaashi was gone.