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He sings loud into the crisp air of the morning, something sweet and simple in melody. Kazuha watches--Tomo knows, he sees him stare from the corner of his eyes and closes an eyelid in a gentle wink. His hand comes to grab Kazuha’s shoulder, a gentle and warm grip to help bring him back to the present.
Kazuha blinks. He smiles. Angles his body so he can rest his head in the crook of Tomo’s neck, inhaling the soft scent of cherry blossoms and sweet lavender melon. He exhales a hot breath against his skin and Tomo shivers despite himself.
“Tired?” Tomo asks, an amused tone in his voice as his fingers reach up to thread through Kazuha’s hair. A faint hum of agreement rumbles on the surface of Tomo’s skin and echoes through his bones. It’s chilling but comforting all the same.
He feels the subtle twitches of Kazuha’s eyelids dragging against his skin. The tickle of lashes fluttering on his shoulder. The sound and weight of his best friend’s breaths laying warm and heavy against him. There is bliss in the air, in the half-asleep expression of his friend, and in the feeling of their fingers slowly wrapping around each other. Bliss in the way the callous on Tomo’s left thumb drags against the smooth skin of Kazuha’s knuckles.
When a familiar white cat makes her way up through the grassy hill and lands herself in Kazuha’s lap, a sigh escapes him. It expands against Tomo’s chest, reminding him of something so raw and alive that a tremor runs through his fingertips.
He looks down at Kazuha--his friend, partner, companion. Many words that could never properly explain the swirl of emotions that brushes past Tomo’s eyes whenever he looks at him. Something sweet, something warm. Something like the texture of sticky rice dough between his fingers, and the lingering taste of grass between his teeth after blowing a tune into a leaf flute that Kazuha folded for him. Something like the melody in Kazuha’s quiet hums as he thinks to himself, something silent and profound all the same. Something like that, yes, he’s sure.
Tomo reaches another hand across his lap to reach the fluffy creature sitting atop Kazuha’s folded legs. His fingers, nimble and gentle, thread their way into her fur, strumming a smooth rhythm into the depths of her coat.
He feels Kazuha’s head shift against his shoulder. His eyes are still closed in his temporary rest, and another heavy sigh pours its way out from behind his lips. His hand squeezes Tomo’s, one long, tight press against his palm until it falls slack. Tomo smiles.
(And two weeks later, when Tomo challenges the Raiden Shogun in Tenshukaku--he will smile at the sound of his friend’s light footsteps behind him as he faces defeat. And Kazuha will take his vision. Squeeze it tightly. One long, tight press against the metal until it falls slack.)