Chapter Text
He first met her when he was an early wanderer, just getting to know the sounds and signs of nature. The maple leaves had just begun to sprout, and spring was beginning anew. Winds greeted the new growth, jovially brushing against the plants with a gentle chill. It was late morning, nearing noontime, and Kazuha was taking a walk through the forest, as per usual.
He had just begun to think of a new haiku to commemorate the new budding.
Sun peeks through pearl clouds
Leaves stretching towards warm light
And what for the third line…?
Then, suddenly he heard a distinct humming. The wind carried it toward his ears and weaved the melody, in and out almost like the tide.
“Hmm, hm hm hm~ hm…”
He decided to go toward the sound, harmonious as it was. Curiosity had piqued his interest, and after all, what else was there to do on that fine day?
“Hm~ hm hm hmm…”
The humming grew clearer, and then Kazuha saw a girl in a clearing of the forest, an easel and canvas set up in front of her. She held a tray of watercolors and a paintbrush, poised to sweep across the awaiting surface. A pool of water stood nearby, rippling softly. Her eyes were closed and she continued humming, lost in her thoughts.
At that moment, Kazuha couldn’t help but think that it was a beautiful sight, with shafts of sunlight breaking through the trees. It was refreshing to see someone else who seemed to be just as in tune with nature as he was.
He stood there quietly, not wanting to disturb her, but she seemed to sense another presence in the atmosphere. She opened her eyes, stopped humming, and glanced over in his direction. He felt a strange warmth in his cheeks. He must have seemed so rude, just spying on her with no purpose. Solitary time in nature was meant to be a private affair, after all.
However, instead of scorning him and telling him to go away, she smiled.
“Hello there,” she said. “What’s your name?”
He blinked, then slowly responded.
“I am Kaedehara Kazuha. I’m a wanderer, who peruses forests and fields. I apologize for interrupting your painting, I just heard a noise and I thought I would follow it,” he said.
“Oh, did my humming disturb you?” she asked, a concerned look crossing her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do so. I hum when I’m trying to find some inspiration. I thought I was being quieter.” She smiled at him again, and he felt the corners of his mouth lift in response, as if a ray of sunshine had graced his face. “You must have amazing hearing abilities.”
He laughed. It wasn’t always easy for someone else to make him find something humorous.
“Nature has honed my senses. Don’t worry, it was quite lovely. If I may ask, what is your name?”
“Hmm…,” she said, pausing. Her eyes misted over, lost in thought. Usually the response to this question wouldn’t warrant much perusal, but Kazuha had gotten the sense that she was a person who put much thought into everything. “I am [L/N] [Y/N].”
“I am honored to meet you, Miss [L/N],” he replied.
She laughed, the sound akin to that of tinkling bells.
“Please, just call me [Y/N]. Miss [L/N] is who I am at home, in private, someone I can keep to myself. But [Y/N] is the one who spreads inspiration and beauty through art. They are separate labels, but both are part of me.”
Kazuha had not pondered the different facets to identity before, and this unique thought process awed him.
“That is a beautiful belief, Miss [Y/N],” he said.
She shot him a teasing look. “Just [Y/N] will do just fine,” she laughed.
They would occasionally see each other in that same forest, and would talk amicably when they came across one another. Kazuha always had pleasant interactions with her, and would leave smiling when it came time to part ways.
One morning, however, when he was wandering through the woods yet again, he spotted her kneeling on the grass, hunched over and cradling one hand. He made his way over, alarmed, and saw that there was a cut on it, vermillion dripping as she winced.
“What happened?” he asked, a concerned look on his face as he bent down to take a closer look.
He studied the injury. It didn’t seem too bad - it was clean, nothing that couldn’t be stanched quickly. He quickly went to retrieve some plant fronds that he knew could work in place of bandages.
“I was just traipsing through here, like normal, but tripped. I was able to put my hands out to stop my fall, but unfortunately this hand landed on a rock peeking up out of the dirt,” [Y/N] explained, grimacing at the sting of her cut.
Kazuha made his way back over, holding the leaves, and gently took her arm. He put pressure over the cut for a few moments, waiting so that the flow would cease. Then he slowly wrapped the strands around until they fully protected the injury, tying the ends together snugly.
Releasing her hand, he nodded for [Y/N] to test its effectiveness. She slowly flexed her fingers and clenched and unclenched her palms, making sure the pseudo-bandage would stay. Thankfully, it did, and the blood seemed to have stopped.
She looked at Kazuha, beaming with gratitude.
“Thank you so much, Kazuha. It’s impressive, really, how much you know concerning first aid and nature?” she commented, laughing.
He chuckled, embarrassed. “You’re welcome. And it was nothing, really - a wanderer needs to know how to take care of himself. Often, the tools nature has to offer are all he has at his disposal.”
“What about female wanderers, hm? What of them?”
“Yes, them too.” He stifled another laugh.
She noticed and swatted at him teasingly.
“Seriously, though, I appreciate you helping me,” [Y/N] said earnestly.
Kazuha stared at her for a moment, eyes widened and mouth parted slightly. But then his face relaxed a bit, eyes crinkling.
“Yes, of course.”
From that time on, they had wandered together for many seasons. Rain, sun, snow, shine - they were by each other’s side, witnessing the transitions and joys as well as the melancholy moments that the world was sure to bring. It was a time of great peace and joy for Kazuha, and they became very close in friendship.
But soon, at least on his part, it seemed to go past that of friendship into a deeper connection - one of intertwining strings and warm hearts and periwinkle thoughts.
He remembered that one day. It was one of the days that changed many things for him. It was late afternoon, fading into evening, and he and [Y/N] were walking through the forest where they had first met. It was fall by this time, and the maple leaves were now shaded crimson and marigold, falling down all around them in a quiet shower. Quite a romantic scene, he couldn’t help but think as he gazed at her out of the corner of his eye. New lines for a haiku came to his mind, and he turned to fully see her face, seeing a tranquil, warm light emanating off of it.
Kazuha had seen many beautiful things, but nothing more beautiful than pure serenity and joy to be present in nature’s blessings. All other thoughts faded out, and then he saw her . She was like a prism of light, reflecting the myriad of life and goodness present in the earth to all their surroundings.
As if on instinct, he reached out to grasp her hand lightly, unsure of if he was overstepping any boundaries. But she looked over at him and smiled, tightening her grip. A strange, but not unwelcome, warmth overcame him, and he was content to have her company. It comforted him that he was able to just be himself with her…something he was unfamiliar with. But he found himself wanting to familiarize himself with it, and he suspected spending more time with her was the key to that.
However, all too soon, it was getting dark. Before Kazuha could suggest finding a good shelter for nighttime like they always did, [Y/N] stopped walking and turned to face him. A bit of sorrow had seeped into her face, and she took hold of his other hand in hers so that both of their hands were connected to the others’.
“Kazuha…,” she started, inhaling deeply. “I received an invitation from the Yashiro Commission.”
His eyes widened, his heart seeming to swell. The Yashiro Commission was in charge of ceremonial and cultural affairs in Inazuma. This involved art as well, and it was a great honor that she had this opportunity to participate in that and show her wonderful work to the rest of Inazuma.
“That’s wonderful, [Y/N]…are you going to accept it?” he had asked.
“Yes…yes I will,” she replied. But she still seemed sad, something small nestled within her weighing down her normal light eyes.
“What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”
She looked away, not able to meet his eyes.
“It’s just…” She paused. “This means we must say goodbye now.”
His heart stopped for a moment. He hadn’t even considered that. A pang sounded in his chest, echoing throughout his whole being.
“The Commission has a place for me on the Kamisato Estate, and I must go there.”
Kazuha lowered his gaze.
“I…I understand.”
They were quiet for a moment, the leaves still falling down around them.
“I will miss you dearly, and I hope that we will cross paths once more,” she whispered softly.
He nodded. “If fate decrees it…which I believe it will. Nature knows the bonds it has created.”
She murmured a word of agreement.
And then, unexpectedly, she drew her face closer to his and planted a small kiss on his cheek.
“We will meet again,” she said. Then she drew away and let go of his hands, a bittersweet expression on her face as she walked away.
All too soon, she vanished into the distance, leaving behind a silhouette of what could have been, what couldn’t be.
Then Kazuha, still standing there, with the maple leaves falling beside him and sorrow, but a tiny bit of lightness in his heart, smiled softly. Murmuring a last goodbye, he set off to find someplace else to stay.
You sighed as you walked the plains of Inazuma, the occasional electric-violet petaled tree scattered about. It was starkly different from the forests found in the other locations you had visited, and you couldn’t help but feel a small twinge at the memories that arose. Of a certain platinum-haired samurai, with his gentle smile and hands that could one minute deftly assemble a tent or take down the occasional foe that they encountered, the next caressing a leaf against his lips as he blew a tune.
You especially reminisced over that time when he helped bandage your injured hand. It had been a year, perhaps two, since then, but it felt like a lifetime ago. You looked down at the pale tan scar that was left of it, tracing it lightly. You wondered if he remembered, too, and if he ever had to bandage his own hand like he did yours.
Your mouth lifted into a grin, partially in happiness at the peach-hued nostalgia, the other portion in dusky blue wistfulness. You couldn’t help but want to know how he was doing, and if you ever crossed his mind like he did in yours. He’d always held a place in your heart, from the very moment that you met him up until the present.
Often you thought about seeking him out, but you knew that the ley lines, the magical threads that ran throughout the world, would eventually bring you back together when it was time. You just had to be patient - after all, you each had your own paths to follow, your own journeys you had to undertake. When they intersected once more, you’d be able to see him again.
Hefting your pack of art supplies higher onto your back, you trekked onward, seeking a place where you could stop to paint. Your job with the Yashiro Commission thankfully allowed for frequent traveling, so you were never wanting for new sights. Soon, you noticed a peculiar stream of purple-tinged water running below a small cliff, sparking with electricity. Your eyes gleamed at this intriguing sight, and you set down your belongings at the top of the hill so you’d have a view from up above, taking out your easel and a fresh canvas.
But as you were taking out your paints and brushes, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. A shadow fell upon you and the ground around you, and you felt your hands tremble as you turned to see what it was.
It was one of those nobushi scoundrels that plagued the dark corners all throughout Inazuma. You scoffed in indignance as this one brandished his sword at you.
“You don’t belong here,” he growled, and you found yourself facing a very sharp silver tip of a blade. “Leave, or I’ll make you.”
“Excuse me, sir,” you huffed. “I am an artist, just looking for a place to paint. Why must you threaten me when I’ve done you no harm?”
“Alright, I guess I have to make you,” he said ominously, glowering. He advanced, and you quickly backed up, dropping any of your art materials left in your hands.
“W-wait, hold on-”
The nobushi warrior let out a furious cry and charged. You felt a shiver of panic and adrenaline course through your veins, and looked for a place, any place, to flee. However, because you were on top of a hill, there was nowhere to go, as the nobushi was blocking your path back down. Stumbling, you tried your best to hold your ground, but you had no weapon at your disposal, and finally you teetered backward and fell.
Down, down - it felt like hours rather than sheer milliseconds as you fell, a shriek leaving your throat, and you hit the water, feeling only a jarring shock and shockwaves tingling your spine before…nothing.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you lost consciousness, swept away by the stream’s flow.