Work Text:
"I know I should crumble
for better reasons
but have you seen that boy
He brings the sun
to its knees every night."
It happened by chance, their first meeting.
It’s not like Aran was expecting anything when he first heard how the young kits he had seen with his fellow friend, the Inari god of the Shinto shrine, had taken a liking to a human. The twins are mischievous, like to play pranks and be surrounded with others, mortal or immortal. This is surely not the first time that it happens.
However, it is the first time that even Inari is quite taken with the boy.
It is a 17 year old boy, who tends to the rice fields in place of his grandmother.
The kits had been pestering Aran to play with them, that they wanted to see his lightning bolts in action, not knowing that if he brought a storm to the lands at this very moment it would be a cause for distress towards the farmer that they so adore. But Aran had also wanted to test this young man to see what is so special about him that he earned the affinity of a pair of kitsunes and the blessing of Inari herself.
So he brought rain to the land of Hyogo that day.
And the boy with the captivating white hair just tilts his face up to the sky and smiles as droplets of rain kisses his cheeks.
--
Aran sees him again after that, time and time again.
He hides it under the guise of looking out for the twins, but Aran himself knows that it is not his responsibility to do so. It is not like that farmer boy is the only person that the young foxes like to visit, but he is the only one that Aran would come down with them to see him.
There is something so captivating in his benign and firm manner that the god craves another meeting with him every time he leaves the fields.
Though to say it is a meeting would be an exaggeration, for all he does is wait in the shadows as he watches the man work his way around the field. Sometimes the kits will be in his way of tending to the crop, and wordlessly, he would gently remove them to a safer space where his fellow farmers wouldn’t accidentally step on their tails before resuming his work.
It is quite mundane, the life he is living. But everyday he works on the menial tasks as routinely as he does everything else in his life. He does not cut corners, does not look for ways to get out of doing his job. The boy genuinely enjoys it—he tends to the fields and talks with the other farmers with mirth in his eyes. And when he takes breaks in between ploughing the land and picking out weed, he would find the kits where they are resting underneath a tree and allow them to snuggle up against his leg as he eats his lunch.
One day the boy surprises him, approaching Aran instead of heading towards the tree as usual.
“My name is Shinsuke.”
From beneath the shade of his straw hat, Aran peeks at Shinsuke, caught off-guard. He didn’t really think that this boy would have the boldness to approach him, even in this form. Aran was told that even his human form appears intimidating to a mortal’s eye, so he did not expect that he would strike up a conversation with the boy he had been watching for the past few days.
“Aran,” he offers.
“It is nice to meet you, Aran.”
The boy’s eyes are large as they bore into him, and even though Aran can see the questions swimming in them, he does not ask for more. This boy— Shinsuke, has probably noticed Aran’s presence since the very beginning, something that slips his attention despite keeping them on him the entire time.
“Your mouth is saying that but your eyes are dying to ask something else.”
The boy ducks his head, an abashed smile playing at his lips.
“Well, I thought it would be too presumptuous of me to ask why you keep coming to the field and only watch me as I work.”
An amused grin spreads across the raijin’s face, delighted in the boy’s honest and straightforward character. Not intending to hide anything, he replies. “I was only curious to see the man who had gained the favor of the Inari god.”
Shinsuke’s face remains tranquil. “You think I am blessed?” he asks.
“Do you not think so?”
He shifts his gaze from Aran and casts it on the rich stretch of land before him. A small smile rests upon his delicate face, and Aran feels serenity wash over him. The sun is hanging low in the sky, and yet rather than the usual scorching heat, the breeze of summer wraps around the two of them. Aran’s eyes are fixated on Shinsuke, finding himself staring at the gentle sway of his hair from the wind. There is a strange urge to touch it, that strand of hair right above the shell of Shinsuke’s ears. He does not touch it.
“I am built upon the small things I do everyday, and gaining the favor of a goddess, are no more than a byproduct of that,” he says, turning to Aran with a twinkle in his eyes. “I am simply doing what I have to do.”
“Earnestly.”
Kita laughs. “Yes, earnestly.”
The rest of their conversations after that meeting follow a similar pattern, where Shinsuke talks about life in a way that only he could make such a mundanity seem so beautiful, and Aran would catch himself engrossed at the way his lips move when he talks.
It is not only his view in life that is so appealing to Aran, but also the way he jests with him. They are sitting side by side on the bamboo chairs one day, and Aran brings up the topic of their first meeting, trying to gauge what Shinsuke had been thinking about him then.
“When I was young, my grandmother used to tell me that there is always someone watching.”
He looks wistfully at Aran, throwing a casual smirk at him. Aran rolls his eyes and averts his gaze, suddenly too aware of how their hands are almost touching. He doesn’t move them, though. He enjoys the warmth of Shinsuke’s body on his skin.
“I am quite sure that your grandmother means something a little more like deities.”
There is humour in Shinsuke’s eyes, showing Aran that he knows more than he lets on, but he humours the god nonetheless. “Well, I stand corrected.”
Shinsuke rises from his seat and brings the tray of dumplings to where the kits are chasing each other under the very same tree that Shinsuke used to rest during his breaks. Happy yips echo through the fields when they notice the man coming to him with treats in his hands, and the two foxes immediately lunge at his feet. Aran lets out a laugh when the two of them are reprimanded by Shinsuke, hard-set brows framing his now stern face as he tells the kits to behave.
There is warmth encircling Aran’s heart, watching Shinsuke and being near him.
Shinsuke treats the land with kindness and respect, devotes his time to them to utilise the piece of land he is granted with as best as he could. He makes the people around him feel comfortable, safe, important. And if Aran is to uncover other traits of his that he learned upon their friendship, there will be a flurry of emotions, human emotions that he is still not used to, to surface.
Aran is not sure if he could handle that.
--
Their fall into familiarity with each other is easy, too easy, and it makes the other gods curious about Aran’s budding friendship with the mortal. None of them have anything good to say, and Aran is not interested in them, anyway. He is content with just spending his time with Shinsuke whenever he can, and makes sure they both stay out of the deities’ way. But if there is one god that he can not avoid even if he wishes to, it would be his brother, Fujin.
Fujin is not unhappy about his friendship with Shinsuke, but he is not too happy either. He never goes out of line when he does choose to toe the subject, so Aran is at least grateful for that. Although, to say Fujin is curious would be an understatement. The god of wind has never even approached a mortal, much less befriended and cared for them the way Aran befriends and cares for Shinsuke.
One day Fujin asks him why he keeps coming back to him, and Aran finds himself surprised at his own answer.
“In all the years I have walked this earth, I have never felt like this is the place I belong to. You understand it too, brother.”
Fujin couldn’t deny that. They are put on earth as deities, gods, to oversee all the humans and creatures under their care. A god’s life is a lonely one, their duties tormenting. Subjected to a life of immortality, where they have to know better than to be attached with someone whose life will expire, unlike theirs.
“I have lived, simply for the sake of living, and then he appears and suddenly everything finally has a meaning.”
“That does not make any sense.”
Aran laughs. Sense. Gods and their logic. Everything has to make sense, to have material purpose for it to be worthy in their eyes. To a god, how can a mortal’s presence be of such great importance in another's life? They simply could not understand the depth of human emotions, the lengths some of them would go for their loved ones. Aran does not blame him for that. A life of duty is all they know, and it was all that Aran knew, until he met Shinsuke. Fujin stares at him still, demanding an answer, or at least a response. The raijin thinks about it for some time, before speaking.
“Coming back to him feels like...” A pause. “It feels like home.”
--
The seasons pass, and it is finally winter.
The kits are now starting to learn the art of shapeshifting, getting used to their human forms. Most of the time they are in their human form, and Inari had picked a name for both of them, although they wouldn’t tell Aran what it is.
“Kita-san will be the first to know!”
They fell sick for a while, the first time they shapeshifted. It took too big of a toll on their young bodies, and the two of them stayed bedridden for days before their strength replenished. Of course, they couldn’t see Shinsuke for a while, and are now pestering Aran to accompany them to see Shinsuke.
“You didn’t need me to accompany you before.”
“Inari-sama said it’s dangerous for us to go on our own, like this ,” the older one yips, showing off his tail. It is true, it would be reckless of them to show themselves to mortals in their human form when they haven’t even learned how to hide their tails and ears yet. While it is true that the mortals fear and respect a kitsune enough to leave them alone whenever they spot one, the twins are still very young, and like this, they are vulnerable to attacks and malice. Aran would have accompanied them even if they begged him not to.
Aran spots Shinsuke from afar. Since it is winter he does not need to go tend to the fields, but is instead sitting in his genkan, sipping on his tea. At the sight of the farmer, the boys immediately pick up their pace and run up to the man.
To Aran’s surprise, Shinsuke is not the least bit caught off guard. Not by the two strange boys that are suddenly up in his space, not at their fox ears peeking out from their head, not even at their fluffy tails swishing behind them.
“Kita-san!”
The older one starts. “My name is Atsumu!”
He nudges his brother, who is munching on a chunk of snow that he scooped, prodding him to speak next.
“Oh, uh… I’m Osamu.”
Aran stares at the man for his reaction, and Shinsuke simply smiles his usual, gentle smile, before replying, “Hello Atsumu, Osamu. I’m Kita Shinsuke. It is nice to meet you.”
The boys giggle between themselves, thinking that they have managed to trick him, but Aran knows better than that. It isn’t until the two boys are off on their own trying to poke at the frozen pond that Aran brings it up.
“How long have you known?
Shinsuke snaps his head to look at Aran, and is about to say something witty to evade the topic, but Aran shoots him a look that demands for an answer, so Shinsuke caves.
“A while. The twins have a certain energy unique to the both of them. It would be weirder for me to not know.”
“You’re not wrong, but still. You don’t seem to be too surprised about it.”
“Am I supposed to be surprised?”
“Considering how a normal human would sing hymns of praises to them right now if they are in your shoes, I would say yes. Maybe not surprised, but they wouldn’t be this casual either,” Aran retorts. Shinsuke only shoots him a wistful look and turns his attention back on the book he was reading. “Say, do you believe in gods?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then…” Aran does not finish his question, unsure of what to ask and how to even ask it. Thankfully Shinsuke understands what he’s trying to ask without much words.
“Remember what my grandmother said to me? That there is always someone watching? Everything you do is always overseen by someone, a god, most likely. Truthfully, I don’t really care. Although I am thankful for them still, for the blessings they have given upon us. But this, doing all this, I am not trying to chase any blessings. I’m not doing it for the gods,” Shinsuke says. Their eyes meet. “I just live like this, the way I do, because I feel like it is the right way to do it. Repetition, perseverance, and diligence just feels good to me.”
Satisfied with the answer he gave, Shinsuke returns back to his book, and Aran watches him for the rest of the evening.
--
That year’s spring, the tangerine trees grow an abundance of fruits.
There are crates after crates of tangerines in Shinsuke’s small yard, gifts from the villagers for his hard work, not only at the paddy field but also for the small favors he did for them. Unsurprisingly, Shinsuke is loved by many, and the boxes of tangerines surrounding them right now is proof of that.
And Osamu had already gone through half of a crate all by himself!
“He is going to get a stomach ache if he eats them all that fast.”
“A brat will only learn his lesson then.” Aran’s tired comment earns a chuckle from Shinsuke. “Do you want some?”
“If you would peel it for me,” the raijin jests.
Without a word Shinsuke picks up one fruit from the crate, washing it with water before working the peels open. He opens them carefully on one side, handling the fruit almost like it’s delicate, deft fingers pulling down the peels and spreading them apart like petals around the flowerhead. He takes a piece of the fruit between his fingers, breaking it apart from the rest of them, and Aran’s eyes rivet on the way the clear juice drips from his fingers. Those fingers are raised and now there is a piece of tangerine right up in his face, and Aran opens his mouth to welcome them. Shinsuke’s fingers brush against his lips, and on a moment of impulse, he grabs Shinsuke’s wrist and keeps them there.
The tangerine is saccharine in his mouth, but the taste of Shinsuke’s skin is sweeter.
--
Aran usually keeps his distance from the bustling human festivities. Even though most of these festivities were made to honor the gods and celebrate them, most of the time the gods are too self-important to come down just to see the feast that has been laid down for them. The Raiden himself is not innocent of this, either, for he prefers to watch them from afar.
Tonight is an exception to that.
When Shinsuke extended an invitation to a festival celebrating the beginning of the harvest season, the god couldn’t find it in himself to refuse the offer. He would have done anything to spend more time with the human, after all.
Aran takes in his surroundings. The hot air of summer is slowly dissipating, making way for the chilly winds of autumn to set in. He waits for Shinsuke somewhere a little further from the crowd, the twin kits playing by his feet, chasing each other in between his legs. The shift between summer to autumn reminds Aran of the first time he met Shinsuke. It was right at the beginning of the harvesting season, the lingering summer warmth gentle on his skin, and the sun had been at a perfect angle during the moment, fully capturing Shinsuke’s tranquil beauty. A year had passed since then, and Aran could not get enough of it. Of Shinsuke’s presence, of his witty remarks and thoughtful nature, of the beauty in the mundane life of a mortal.
A soft pained yowl is heard and he looks down to his feet. The younger fox has bitten his brother’s tail, and the older one is now rolling on the ground as he whines. Aran chuckles at their antics, before scratching the fox on the ground between his ears so he would stop being noisy. His action is followed with the other one licking the place where he bit earlier, seemingly in apology.
Looking at them now, Aran is reminded how the twin kits were born around this time too, decades ago.
Just as the new harvest is a blessing to farmers, the twins were also a blessing for the goddess Inari when they descended down to earth. The young kits had been such a huge blessing to her that she shares them with mortals that win her favor, allowing them to be in their company.
Shinsuke is one of them. Earnest, gentle Shinsuke.
He glances down to the foxes nuzzling against his leg for warmth, silently thanking them for being a blessing unto himself, too.
“Aran,” Shinsuke calls out to him, a few feet away from where Aran is resting. The first thing Aran notices is the sheen of sweat on the man’s forehead, evidence that he must have rushed here so as to not make Aran wait for too long. The next thing he notices is how his cheeks have reddened, along with the tips of his ears. Aran rubs his palms together to generate heat, before pressing them on either side of Shinsuke’s face, cheeks cold to his touch.
“You must have been cold.”
“And you must have been waiting for some time now.”
The god smiles, warmth coiling in his chest, spreading throughout his body down to his fingertips. “Ever so thoughtful, Shinsuke.” With the sleeve of his yukata, he dabs the bead of sweat trickling down the side of Shinsuke’s forehead, and the man gifts him a small smile before taking Aran’s larger, warmer hand in his, and pulls him towards the entrance of the festival. Aran stares at the back of Shinsuke’s head, a fond smile never leaving his face once at the contentment of being able to be near Shinsuke again.
How peculiar , he thinks. To be so happy just to be in the company of someone else . Human emotions are strange.
But Aran has long since given up on the logic of human emotions. Now, he simply lives in them.
Shinsuke does not stop maneuvering the two of them through the crowd, avoiding the lively stalls and the chattering of the other festival-goers. Sometimes he would glance back to make sure Aran is properly following him, possibly worried of losing him in the crowd, but how could he when he is holding onto Aran’s hand so tightly like this, and when Aran’s eyes never leave Shinsuke’s frame?
“May I know where you are taking me? Or should I just delight in being dragged around like this?” the god jests, a playful smirk playing on his lips.
“I am trying to find us a good spot.”
“For what?”
Shinsuke slows down into a lighter pace, and thankfully they are quite far from where the crowd is mainly concentrated, so there is enough room for people to move without bumping into their shoulders. With a glance over his shoulder, Shinsuke replies.
“To watch the fireworks together.”
--
“I’m not sure if you can get a good view of the fireworks from here, Shinsuke.”
They are surrounded by wisteria trees at the foot of the hill, away from the busy crowd. It is not the best place to watch the fireworks, as people would usually opt to climb higher to get a better view of them, and Aran does not understand why Shinsuke would bring them here. It’s not like he cares that much, he is not here for the fireworks anyway.
“You complain a great deal, don’t you?” Shinsuke quips, mirth in his eyes. He looks beautiful like this.
As a god, Aran has seen a great deal of beauty, especially in nature. He sees them a lot, hears them a lot when the mortals sing praises for the gods. So much so that he has grown too used to them, no longer finding the magic in the leaves that change with season, everything appearing dull and monotonous to him after centuries of walking the earth.
Experiencing them with someone that he cares about by his side, though, gives a whole new meaning to it.
The wisteria trees that he never cared to spare a glance to before glow in the moonlight, incandescent purple hues appearing magical, with Shinsuke right in the center of it. The chilly night wind blows, caressing Shinsuke's hair, and the man looks at him with the eyes of a man who has everything he has ever wanted in life, right here in this moment. A man who is happy, and content, and very much in love.
He is so beautiful like this.
A gentle hand touches the side of his face, and Aran unknowingly leans into the touch.
“You must have been cold,” comes out of the smaller man’s lips, and Aran releases a soft chuckle at that. Leave it to Shinsuke to use his own words against him.
“I am perfectly content,” he replies instead. Shinsuke gifts him a smile, and Aran feels warmth throughout him spreading to the tips of his fingers, and he feels so much at ease then. The feeling is akin to walking aimlessly for years and then finally finding a home to come back to. One of his hands reaches to gently hold Shinsuke’s in his, and Aran never knew he is capable of such a soft touch.
It’s mystifying.
Aran is the Raijin, the vicious god of lightning, thunder and storms. With a flick of his fingers, he could command a storm upon the lands of Japan, strike her invaders with arrows of his lightning. His hands are made to destroy, to decimate. Not to hold someone, especially not to love.
Not like this, at least.
Humans are fragile. They break easily, skin, bones, and heart, especially. The only form of love that he has ever known comes in the form of respect, offerings and prayers made to him. And in return, the only way he knows how to show love is through his grace and favours. Protection, for his people. The love that he was shown and the love that he gives back, carries his sense of duty with him, a purpose.
This love that he is about to share with Shinsuke, though.
This love is different.
In return for his kindness, and affection, Shinsuke wants nothing from him. Nothing but Aran himself. Is this how mortals love? he thinks. In his world, everyone owes someone a favor, and nothing is done out of goodwill, much less because they simply want to do it.
“What are you thinking about?” Shinsuke’s voice breaks him out of his trance.
“Nothing much,” Aran says, pulling the other man by his waist so they’re pressed together. “Everything,” he whispers into the tuft of Shinsuke’s hair, pressing his lips onto the crown of his head.
“You.”
--
If there is one thing Aran remembers in his talk with his brother, it’s that fate would never let gods be happy. Happiness lowers one’s defense, which would explain why most of the gods Aran had been in companionship with had preferred their miserable ways, avoiding mortals and choosing to be left on their own, undisturbed beyond their duties.
Aran wonders what makes him think he is exempted from that too, from the curse that comes with being a god.
Shinsuke falls sick not long after their last meeting in the wisteria forest.
It was an outbreak, most of the farmers working with him in the field having caught the disease too. Day after day he would be coughing up blood into his clothes, and Aran can only watch in helpless misery. There is only so much that he as a god can do.
(The sickness that Shinsuke has fallen into would later be known as tuberculosis, a disease completely curable with modern medicine.)
The raijin grieves at the imminent death of his beloved, and his brother Fujin reprimands him for that, for behaving in a manner not befitting for a god.
“Nothing could stop death, my brother. And why are you fretting over it so, when you will no longer remember him after his death too? Are you forgetting the story of Izanami and Izanagi?” Fujin reminds him.
Izanagi and Izanami were a divine couple, brother and sister, creators of the land of Japan. Their union gives birth to many islands and deities, and the pair loves each other very dearly. When Izanami was burnt to death as she gave birth to the kami of fire, she descended into yomi, the land of the dead. Grief-stricken, Izanagi seeked for her there and begged Izanami to return with him. Izanami asked her husband to be patient and wait at the door of the underworld, and upon no circumstances to bring light into the world of darkness. But Izanagi grew impatient waiting for his wife, and went inside of the mansion to look for her using a tooth of his comb as a torch. At last he found her, but to his horror, the body of the goddess was already decomposing, a rotten decaying corpse. Panic-stricken, he fled, pursued by his wife, and finally emerged into the upper world. Firmly he placed a stone over the aperture to the underworld and recited the chant of separation. They were then parted forever, Izanagi and Izanami, he to dwell among the gods in heaven, and she to reign in the land of the dead.
Aran knows the details to the lore by heart, and because of that he is deeply offended at his love being compared to theirs. He is furious.
Bright lightning strokes curl up around the skin of his body, starting from the base of his waist. Blinding light against dark, his raijin form awakened from anger is chilling, and perhaps to some, beautiful. This is the true form of the lightning god, his true nature laying dormant in him finally resurfacing again after months, and unsurprisingly, because of the person that resides in his heart.
His eyes, usually grey like the storms he brings, now shines golden.
“My love for him is not so shallow that I would cower at the sight of him being death-ridden.”
“So you would love him, even when his eye-sockets are crawling with maggots?” Fujin barks back. “You would follow him even to the cold and dark yomi ?”
The sight of his brother in his god form still sends chills down his spine, but he is not intimidated by him, nor is he afraid of him. The raijin possesses a volatile nature, and just as his anger comes quickly, crashing down like waves, the storm in his eyes immediately clears as it subsides.
“Wherever he goes, I know that it will be warmer than here.”
--
It’s the harvest season, and Shinsuke is lying sick on his deathbed.
His face is pale, full cheeks now hollow with the lack of appetite that follows his sickness. Aran can’t look at him like this, but he can’t tear his eyes away at the same time. He is scared it will be the last time he will ever be able to look at Shinsuke’s face, alive, like this.
The room smells like medicine, from the herbs to the concoctions that the physicians make him drink. It smells like despair, and Aran can only drown in it.
From inside the room, he could hear the kits whining to be let in, but he knows Shinsuke’s time is near, and that there is no need for the twins to witness something as morbid as this. Aran startles when he feels Shinsuke’s grip on his arm, urging the man to move closer to him. Aran shifts, and Shinsuke’s finger moves down to lace their fingers together. His movements are weak, so unlike the Shinsuke that Aran knows, and it breaks his heart.
“Aran,” he whispers, voice frail. “May I see your god form?”
Ah, even on his last days, Shinsuke still manages to find some way to surprise him.
His surprise is apparent on his face, and Shinsuke manages to let out a little laugh. Aran’s chest constricts, aches at how much he misses Shinsuke’s laughter. “You’re too beautiful to be one of us.”
“And you never asked to know more.”
“It was not important to me. As long as the time I spent was with you, I do not care of your status or title or whatever.”
The god hums.
“What would you like to see?”
“How you look like up there.”
In the mountains. In the heavens.
“Why now, out of a sudden?”
“So I can try and look for you there.”
A single tear rolls down his cheek, and he tries his best to console himself. Eyes never leaving Shinsuke, he allows the lightning coursing in his veins to engulf him, until his eyes glow electric and brown eyes meet gold. Shinsuke touches the hand by his side, signaling him to stop.
“Now come give me my Aran back.”
--
When Shinsuke passed, Aran was holding him in an embrace. He had felt cold, and wanted to be close to Aran one last time, so he held Shinsuke to him as tightly as he could. Aran was scared, but Shinsuke placed his palm on his cheek and for a moment, he felt the serenity that he always associated with Shinsuke then. Only for a moment.
“In my next life, I want to be with you again.”
When Shinsuke passed, he took the warmth away with him, too.
--
Aran can’t breathe.
It feels like in every breath he draws, he is only sucking in cold water instead of air, filling every cavity in his lungs with ice. He brought a hand to his face, finding his cheeks wet. Tears. He is crying. Aran does not remember the last time tears had ever been present on his face, not since he was given the responsibility of a god.
Aran sits alone in the middle of the room that still smells like medicine and herbs, and the concoctions that Shinsuke had to drink— but not of Shinsuke himself.
When Shinsuke passed, he took a part of Aran with him, too. His fallen heart.
--
There are three things that not even a god of Aran’s status can interfere with; life, death and rebirth.
Reincarnation is a concept that is not often talked about by the people, much less the gods. The people of Japan do not heed it often, thinking that the idea of being reincarnated would make one not live their current life as best as they could, wasting it for the possibility of being reborn into somebody else, someone prettier and richer, with wealth and status. And thus the gods do not promise them of one. A next life, a reincarnation.
One could be dead for hundreds of years before their soul would grace another vessel, before they could walk in the land of the living again. No one gets to choose who will be reincarnated, and not everyone is lucky enough to get a second chance at life.
It is out of anyone’s power to do that. The secret of creation only lies within the kami that had brought the land of Japan to life, no other than Izanagi and Izanami themselves. There is no mortal brave enough to travel to the underworld and beg Izanami for their loved ones to be brought back to life, and no god foolish enough to tempt fate in trying to bargain with the goddess.
Aran is desperate.
He is desperate, and there is nothing left for him to lose. As he journeys through the underworld, Aran thinks about the conversation he had with Fujin before Shinsuke’s death, and amuses himself at how similar his current situation is to Izanagi’s. There is one difference between the two of us , Aran thinks. I will never give up the possibility of staying by his side, no matter what form he is in .
A god is blessed with the curse of immortality. And yet Aran wishes to seek for Shinsuke in a place where gods like him shouldn’t be able to follow, all for the uncertain promise of spending another life together.
He doesn't even make it to the gates of the mansion where Izanami hides when a dragon emerges from the dark, eyes burning red while the rest of his body is covered in metallic black scales. Aran quickly knows him as the god of fire’s dragon, sent by the kami himself to keep his mother company in the underworld, as an apology for being the cause of her death. The dragon is her companion in the eternity that is the yomi , just as powerful as she is, if not more powerful, due to magic that only a dragon could possess. Aran knows that if he wants a chance at being reunited with his love, this is his only chance.
“Giving up your immortality?” the dragon’s voice booms. “Need I remind you that not everyone is lucky enough to get a second chance at life?”
Aran knows. And yet—
“Wherever my fallen heart goes, I know it will be a better place than here.”
With his last words, the dragon opens his mouth and breathes out flames, engulfing Aran wholly in them. It’s warm, and if he thinks hard enough, it feels like Shinsuke’s touch. He closes his eyes and allows himself to slip in the darkness, letting the underworld to claim his life in a way that he never thought it would.
“In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.”
--
“Kita-san, we’re leaving first. Thank you for today, Captain!”
“Alright. Don’t rush and trip down the stairs again, Atsumu.”
Red colours the second year’s cheeks, making protesting noises as he leaves the clubroom with his friends in tow, ceaselessly teasing him. Shinsuke watches their backs leave and returns to the papers in his hand, scribbling volleyball strategies in between forms and letters he needs to organize.
“I’m locking up, Shinsuke,” a voice comes up, and leaning against the half-opened door frame is Aran, waiting for him to finish up so they can leave together. Warmth fills every crevice in his body as he watches his friend’s handsome face, and his hands begin to pack up the loose papers, storing them in a file for later.
“Coming.”
Once they leave the school grounds, the cold breeze hits Kita in the face and he coughs, drawing a worried glance from his vice captain. “You’re okay?”
“Mm. You worry too much about me, Aran.”
“Of course I do! Look at you, Mr. I-have-to-justify-my-happiness, anyone would worry for you. I feel like I always have to look out for you.”
“Hm. Maybe we were friends in our past lives, too, and this is how it had always been,” Kita says, staring at his shoes as he walks. “You believe in reincarnations?”
“Well, there is no reason not to, am I right?”
“Yeah. No reason to not to.”