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In recent moon cycles, the air had grown cold, leaves had rusted, and life had receded from the forests and meadows. All that remained of spring and summer was Ochako’s waning spirit as she ghosted over the land, bundling up the earth’s flora and fauna as she made preparations for her winter hibernation in the Underworld.
As it was her sacred duty to return to the land of the living in spring, spreading life and beauty in her wake, it was also her responsibility to gather up the last of her blossoms and tendrils when the days began to grow short. It took her the better half of summer to make her way around the Earth, bleeding into fall as she finished the task.
Eons past, she’d mourned the impending end of her seasonal stay each Earth cycle, displeased with having to shelter in the Underworld while frost tore at the earth, freezing that which she’d been unable to carry down with her. It pained her to leave in the way it would distress a mother to part with her child or a young heart to depart from their love.
However, somewhere between one century and the next, Ochako, the beautiful day spirit, had found a being with a passion for life that rivaled her own. Himiko, one of Death’s daughters and a princess by blood, had caught Ochako’s eye. Or more aptly, Ochako had seized Himiko’s attention, and seeds of devotion had germinated deep in the Underworld spirit’s soul.
At first, Ochako had been wary of Himiko. She had no qualms with Underworld natives, but she had no need for partnerships, which was what Himiko seemed to be seeking. Ochako’s tune changed, however, the longer the mischievous spirit pursued her affections.
Himiko varied from other Underworld spirits. For a being born from Death, she was surprisingly vibrant and vivacious. Ochako pondered whether Himiko’s royal blood had anything to do with the matter but decided it didn’t once she recounted her experiences with the rest of Death’s court.
It wasn’t that the Underworld was particularly grim or somber. Rather, everyone was humorless and austere, and few held any interest in challenging tradition. It didn’t help that the plane itself existed in shades of blue and gray, a gloomy contrast to Ochako’s sunny essence. Not Himiko, though. She existed in an entirely different palette — one of golds and crimsons. A sun dancing in a place of moons, radiating warmth and life.
To Ochako, Himiko was a sweet day in spring and a warm summer night, which was nigh impossible to explain when Ochako was Spring herself — the true embodiment of the season. But somehow, a spirit that fed on blood, reveling in the final stages that life had to offer, found a way to blossom in Ochako’s twilight, bringing her comfort during the longest months of the year. And so, breaking with Underworld traditions, they made vows of love, promised their hearts to one another, and swore to always wait for each other at season’s end.
As a result, Ochako’s heart existed in a semi-permanent state of heartbreak, always mourning the loss of one of her greatest loves. Returning to the land of the living meant leaving a part of herself with Himiko, and coming home to her heart’s keeper meant saying goodbye to the feeling of sunlight on her skin and the sensation of soft, spring petals under her fingertips.
Over time, the pair developed a tradition of greeting one another with gifts from the heart, usually flowers, though occasionally, Himiko offered Ochako unusual bones that she’d deemed gift-worthy. Ochako never balked at Himiko’s unusual offerings, but she couldn’t deny that she was especially fond of the times when Himiko made the extra effort to acquire flowers for her. Departing from the surface stung less when flowers were waiting for her below.
Most recently, Ochako had found what she thought to be the perfect gift for Himiko. Each Earth cycle, they tried to find a new gift that they hadn’t given before, but with how long they’d been together, this aim was growing increasingly challenging.
“Erysimum Cheiri,” Ochako hummed to herself as she happened upon a particularly spindly clump of wallflowers that had somehow survived the last frost. Blood red and sweetly scented, they reminded Ochako of Himiko, and her heart fluttered against her ribs. Soon, they would be reunited, and the ache in her chest would be replaced by another.
Impatient as ever, Himiko was waiting at the gates of the Underworld for Ochako when she arrived, just as she had been last Earth cycle and the one before that. Before Ochako had finished crossing the great river of souls, Himiko was leaping into her arms, shrieking her love loud enough to disturb the dead.
“Ochako!” Himiko buried her face in Ochako’s neck, nosing over her soft skin and all but purring as she clung to her wife. “I missed you so much. I thought I was gonna die.”
“You can’t die, silly,” Ochako murmured, hugging Himiko as close as she could without fusing their essences further, not that Himiko would have minded. Pulling back, Ochako kissed Himiko’s brow as golden tears trailed down her round cheeks.
“Are you sad?” Himiko hummed, using a thumb to wipe away the tears. Shaking her head, Ochako took Himiko’s face between her hands, leaning in to kiss her wife with all the tenderness of a flower’s first bloom.
“No,” Ochako whispered against Himiko’s lips. “Happy. I’ve missed you.” Now Himiko did purr, content vibrations pulsing in her essence.
To Ochako and Himiko, time only held meaning to them when seasons came and went. Save for that, it meant nothing. So, it was easy to lose themselves in a kiss that lasted days, their love ever-deepening as they held each other, twined together like vines.
“I brought you something.” Ochako broke free of Himiko, conjuring in her palm the blood-red wallflowers. With eager hands, Himiko accepted the flowers, clutching them to her chest and inhaling their honeyed-scent deeply.
“Is this what summer smells like?” Himiko’s amber eyes were wide as she glanced up from the flowers to meet Ochako’s affectionate gaze.
“Yes,” Ochako giggled. “You always ask that, though.”
“Well!” Himiko protested, her ghastly cheeks flushing. “Can you blame me?”
“I suppose not,” Ochako laughed, her smile covered by her hand. “Did you have something for me?” she prompted, brushing an errant strand of hair out of Himiko’s eyes.
“Yes!” Himiko bounced on heels, producing a broken skull in her hands from inside which blossomed—
“Zaluzianskya capensis?” Ochako gasped, reaching to take the plant.
“I think it’s called night phlox,” Himiko corrected, her brow furrowing.
“One and the same,” Ochako breathed, tracing a stem with her thumb. “They only bloom at night, and when they do, they smell sweet,” Ochako sighed dreamily. “You know, some mortals call them midnight candy for that very reason.” Himiko had not known, but her eyes softened as she watched Ochako hum happily over the plant.
“Then, they’re perfect for you, Ochako.” Himiko leaned forward, stealing a toothy kiss. “Though nothing is half as sweet as you,” she mused, tugging at Ochako’s lip with a fang. A deep fuschia blush flowered on Ochako’s cheeks.
“You’re too much.” Ochako wasn’t one to be bashful, but Himiko found little ways to overwhelm her. “Come on. Let’s plant these in the terrarium.”
Arms intertwined, the spirits made their way into the depths of the Underworld, and their love, flickering brighter and warmer than the sun, illuminated the way.