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Very seldom did Tokoyami ever find something that made himself and his quirk feel at ease. That isn’t to say that there’s nothing that does the trick, but when it comes down to it, there is only one solitary thing that he can think of off the top of his head. Whether it be a long day of hectic and draining patrols that left his body feeling worn and his mind lagging behind with a sense of aimlessness or a strange day full of questions that would nag him as well as peculiar situations that wouldn’t leave the forefront of his innermost thoughts, nothing felt better than leaving for the outskirts of town to find this one particular place. Ironically enough, he’d always find himself perched on a high branch, hands clasped together in his lap as he sat on the broad, sturdy structure of the branch beneath him, leaning forward as if to get a closer look at the celestial body that would dance on its tiptoes over the small body of water ahead of him. Beams of silver light radiating from the night sky would bathe Earth and all of its inhabitants in its soothing glow which filled Tokoyami with a sense of ease and wonder he’d never known before. And sometimes, if he listens just hard enough, he swears he can hear the moon singing softly to him.
From time to time, he’ll try to pin down an actual melody and hum to it, but more often than not it’s not quite right. He should have known better than to believe he’d be able to sing alongside the moon, it’s always been so mysterious in its ways. The moon, who causes phenomena that no one can quite explain, also sings a tune so unpredictable and delightful that one can only hope to join the night sky’s choir in their dreams.
Tokoyami has always been a dreamer.
It’s been clear since he decided to be a pro hero and since he’d been admitted to UA. It became apparent that he’d make his dreams come true as he poured himself into starting his own hero agency with a small group of friends he’d graduated with. Dreams were what made him feel so enthralled with the idea of sleep. And with a melody that hasn’t even made itself fully known stuck on his mind all the time, he realizes that dreams also give him hopes and goals. Hopes to know the melody one day soon and goals to dedicate whatever time it takes to figure it out. And, then, there are just some dreams that don’t come true unless they want to.
He learned that when he ran into you on the way home late one night. A woman so caught up with her own life that she couldn’t force herself to slow down if her well-being depended on it. He knew as much as he watched you hurry past him toward the bus stop, tapping your fingers rhythmically on the side of your leg and murmuring something to yourself, almost as if trying to dedicate it to memory. With brows knitted together over your bright eyes and the scowl on your face, most would assume the wrong thing. Most would assume that you were angry, but Tokoyami likes to believe that a tired soul would know the other. You weren’t angry, no, you were trying to keep yourself on your feet for the sake of whatever was in store for you next. It wasn’t clear what you were up to or where you were going, but one thing was certain… Tokoyami would dream of a chance encounter such as this coming to find him again when the time was right.
He’s always been a dreamer.
And, as fate would have it, it worked out in his favor, yet again. It would be a brisk, early morning. The sun is just beginning to start its day alongside Tokoyami. As the sun breaks its way through the horizon dawning a new day filled with the promise of countless possibilities, Tokoyami breaks his way through the canopy of the trees, perching himself on that high-up branch somewhere far away from town. He doesn’t have to work until later on in the day, so he has decided to spend the first part of his day trying to find some inward peace. It isn’t the same without the moon and her midnight waltz, but somehow it feels better because the sun has appeared. Well, the personification thereof.
He’s not sure how he’d never noticed the house on the other side of the pond, but here in the daylight, he can see it plain as day. A beautiful little cottage, nestled between a few sparsely placed trees, with the shutters opened and boughs of ivy cascading down the sides of it. It looks like a home, one that feels so strange next to the woman he assumed would never be able to slow down. Yet, there she is, tending to her gardens and filling a basket with fresh vegetables and herbs. The contrast in comparison to the woman he met that day is stifling, yet he can’t help but feel as though it makes sense.
Leaning forward in hopes of catching a better view, he ends up slipping off of the edge of the branch. As he begins his plummet back down to the earth which lies in wait beneath him, he summons Dark Shadow who ultimately lightens the impact. He’s not sure either one of them wanted to find themselves back on the branch, not when there would be a possibility of waking up with you closer. There was no need for waking up, he never closed his eyes. Instead, he lay there, staring up at the sky, his view slightly skewed by the branches that tower above him. The way that the smaller ones sway in the breeze is nearly hypnotic, with soft movements that look to be nearly choreographed by some higher power.
And hypnotic as those swaying branches may be, he can’t help but feel himself lose any semblance of thought upon meeting your eyes. Colored so beautifully and clear as the night sky he’d seen many times, there was absolutely no way he’d seen a color so beautiful before in his life. And, looking at you, he knew that there was nothing that had ever been created with more care and intent as you.
You were perfect.
He’d never been one to believe in all of the myths and fables that would convey stories of gods and goddesses that had roamed the earth and done wonderful things. He had no reason to, not really. There was really nothing that a god would be capable of that people he’d met throughout his life wouldn’t be capable of either. There were people that could change the weather with physical power of their own rite and those who could create devastation with so much as the flick of a wrist, people who could move mountains and change the tides. He’d known so many people that have faced greater challenges than any god he’d ever heard of, who had done much more wondrous deeds and still remained humble. He’d convinced himself that there was no god worth meeting, until now.
You lean down, examining his features closely, your hand lightly brushing through his hair. The touch is so soft that it sends shivers throughout his entire body, making even Dark Shadow shiver. “Looked like you took a pretty big fall,” you whisper gently.
“It wasn’t that big,” he answers with a shaky breath, afraid that if he speaks too loudly it will all end. “Well, it was, but I’m alright. Dark Shadow lightened the blow for me. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”
“Is that so?” You smile. “I guess that’d sound about right for a hero or something, though I can’t imagine any reason why a pro would be all the way out here.”
He sits up slowly and takes in his surroundings as if he’d never seen the place before. Yeah, everything looks the same . “I can think of a few.” He mourns the loss of your touch as you pull your hand away, eyeing him curiously. The daze is starting to settle as he speaks again, “I think I found paradise here.”
“I won’t tell you that you’re wrong,” you giggle. “It is pretty great, isn’t it?” He nods. “Thank you. I did it all on my own. It took a lot of work, but I like to think it’s worth it.”
“You did all this?”
“Yep. I do it every day,” you smile. “Would you like a closer look?”
He gulps, unsure of himself. He doesn’t want to be too forward by saying yes, but he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend more time with you, either. He looks down at his hands, trying to study them for some sort of answer. Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can find the answer written somewhere between the lines. Yet, there is nothing written there. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?” he asks.
You hold your hand out for him to take, “Not at all. I’d be honored to have somebody else see my home.”
He takes your hand and you help pull him to his feet. He didn’t really need the help, but there was no way he’d refuse your hand. Not now, and likely never. You lead him from the tree line and through the clearing of land between that and your home. The closer you pull him to the place he’d only just noticed this morning, the more at peace he feels. It’s almost as if every burden he’d ever felt or will feel is melting from his shoulders like the last heavy snow of the winter disappearing from the rooftops that they burden. He can feel warmth unfurling throughout his entire body and his steps grow lighter. He can’t quite place if it’s due to the excitement and wonder that’s been ignited by this chance encounter, or if it happens to be because he’s truly found paradise. No matter the case, he has no desire to fight it whatsoever. Even walking past the gate of the fence adds a certain intensity to it all. He could almost cry due to the relief that floods his entire being like water overflowing from a glass that was never meant to carry something of such a large capacity.
Once beyond the gate, the land around your home seems to expand over a greater area of land than how it looks on the outside. There’s even a small forest that peeks above the roof of the cottage and small farmyard animals that graze on the grass around the area. It feels like something straight out of a fairytale book. His eyes fill with awe as he tries to take in everything. There’s no way that this is the same house he was seeing from atop the branch of that faraway tree. “Pretty neat, huh?” you ponder aloud.
“Neat? This is… unreal. How did you do all of this?” he asks.
You shrug, “Call it a quirk or something like that.”
“Something like that?” he asks, incredulously.
“Something like that,” you smirk. “Come on. There’s a lot for you to see.”
He follows you through all of the gardens which grow a vast number of summer vegetables such as tomatoes, okra, a variety of squash, and many more. Not to mention the herbs, he can’t imagine how you’d use every last one. There are raised beds and plots of perfectly cultivated land, even an orchard where the fruit is grown. It’s hard to believe that there’s enough space for all of it. There’s no way that there’s that much space .
You even start to show him the field where animals such as sheep and cows roam and fill their bellies with the grass that grows so high that it tickles his ankles. Then, it’s on to the small forest that he saw from the front of the yard when he entered. It looks like it goes on for miles, but he can’t know for sure, at least not from here. He’d need a bird’s eye view to figure it out on his own. But, inside there are more animals, all of these being more of the undomesticated assortment. Deer, rabbits, snakes, frogs, birds, and so much more. Even so, they’re all so friendly with you. And, it’s then that he convinces himself you’re no mere human. No, you truly must be the goddess he initially believed you to be.
“I think we’ve done enough exploring for now. Lunch should be almost ready, would you like to eat something before heading home?” you ask. “And before you ask, I don’t mind. There’s more than enough to share. I’ve been working on a new bread recipe, and I think this one is it. It should be almost done baking, so while it cools we can cut up some stuff for sandwiches. I know it’s nothing special, but it’ll fill the hole in your stomach.”
He smiles, “No, it sounds perfect.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Within minutes, you two have returned to the front of the property and have walked into the cottage. The sound of wind chimes and soft music fills the silence that has been lingering between the two of you. You walk across the floor, setting down the basket of fruits, vegetables, and herbs you’d collected while you were outside, and go to wash your hands. Tokoyami stands in the middle of the kitchen, looking around at the pots and pans hanging from the fixture attached to the ceiling while enjoying the smell of the freshly baked goodies that are causing his mouth to water. You pat your hands dry on the dish towel by the sink and take the bread out of the oven, setting it out on the cooling rack. “Are ham sandwiches okay?” you inquire, walking to the refrigerator.
“Yeah, those sound great.”
He watches as you pull a number of things from the refrigerator, starting with the ham and a variety of cheeses, as well as jars of what look like homemade condiments and pickled vegetables. “Alright, feel free to use whatever you like, if you want a certain type of fresh vegetable, feel free to cut it up or ask me for some of what I’m cutting,” you explain. “It’s free reign.”
“Thank you,” he replies, turning to find a number of things to put on his sandwich. He ends up cutting up some tomatoes, red onion, and shredding some carrots. By the time you finish preparing the things for your sandwiches, the bread has cooled enough for you to cut a few slices of it off.
You both eat your lunch and converse back and forth for a while. He tells you of his work and you tell him of your life here in the cottage. You tell one another about things that excite you and make you feel at peace with the world. You ask questions, and so does he. The entire conversation feels organic, like the two of you had known each other ages ago and are just trying to learn about the people you’ve become during your time apart. It’s refreshing, to say the least. It gives you both hope and a sense of wonder about moving into the future of your friendship.
By the end of your meals, you’ve both become proper friends. He helps you clean up before leaving. You walk him back to the gate, the sun already beginning to settle back below its highest point for the day, starting to make its descent back below the horizon. It’ll be another few hours before then, but it’s weird to think so much time has already passed. He stops and turns upon stepping beyond the gate and smiles. “Thank you for showing me around and for the delicious lunch. I think the bread recipe is a winner,” he says.
“I think so, too. I think the key was good company to share it with.”
He nods, “I’ll believe you. We should try and do this again, sometimes.”
“I’d love that!” you beam excitedly. “It all just depends on when you’ll see me again.”
“And, when will that be?”
You tilt your head and look up to the sky. “Either on another really good day or a really bad one,” you reason. “I guess we’ll find out when we find out.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
With that, Tokoyami takes his leave and heads on about the rest of his day before reporting in for his shift at the agency. As far as days go, this one turns out to be rather mundane. Only a few small-time villains doing silly crimes and the asinine process of filing paperwork on all of it when he gets back from the office. He tries to hurry through much of it, growing impatient in his efforts to make it back to his branch so that he may get a glimpse of that lovely cottage bathed in the moonlight.
But, when he returns, there’s no cottage to be seen. There are no gardens, no farm animals, no forest that he swore would go on for miles. All of it was gone. All that remains is a small plot of land next to the pond he used to sit and admire wholeheartedly. And, now, he can’t help but sit and look at it with disappointment sitting heavy in his chest. It doesn’t feel the same somehow. Yet, the moon still sings its tune and he tries to sing along.
In the days that follow, he didn’t get to return to his spot until after dark. With each visit, he would hope that the cottage would magically reappear, though he’s never surprised when it doesn’t. Maybe he’d dreamed it, perhaps it was never really there, to begin with. Is it possible he’d dreamt of you too?
No. That can’t be. He’d seen you, talked to you. You were as real as the air that he breathes. You were real, and he’d have to convince himself of that until he saw you again on a rainy day as you walked in a frazzled hurry just as you had the first night he saw you. He can see your eyes flickering around the city, taking in the sight of the buildings and the way that the rain cascades over everything in its wake, making all of it appear so dreary.
As he begins to approach you, he can hear you softly talking to yourself. “ I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t work today, ” you murmur. He stops where he stands as you draw closer, and he can see the tear tracks staining your cheeks. It could be the rain, but with the upset expression on your face, it’s plain to see that that isn’t the case. Besides, when you’re whispering that you’re sorry for not being able to work, it’s only logical to assume that you’d be crying. “ I’ll do better tomorrow. I have to do better tomorrow, ” is the last thing he can hear clearly before you walk past, fading into the crowd of people and their umbrellas.
The words would haunt him until a week or so later when he’d finally get to return to his spot during the day. Unfortunately, the cottage is still missing, but in its place stands a Tudor-style home. Smoke billows from the chimney in large clouds of grey, and there you sit in the window. You’re curled up on a chair in a position that looks impossibly uncomfortable, but you look content, especially with your eyes trailing along the pages of a book. He squares his shoulders back and again he can feel that relief just like the first time.
He knocks on the door and it takes you a moment to answer the door. But when you do, you’re smiling again. The corners of your mouth are pulled from ear to ear and there even seems to be a slight glow about you. It’s intoxicating, your smile. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since you last parted ways, especially after he came across you that day. It’s good to know that you’ve smiled since then. He clears his throat, prepared to speak, but you beat him to it. “Well, it looks like it a wonderful day is in store. Look who stopped by,” you chime. “I didn’t think I’d actually ever see you again.”
“Why’s that?” he asks.
You frown, your thoughts etched across your face. “Well, I don’t know. It was more a feeling, really. Not many people tend to figure out how I work well enough to see me twice, at least not in this form. Would you like to come in? I can make you some tea.”
“Of course,” he answers. “I’d love that.”
He follows you inside, and it already didn’t look like your home from the outside, and it certainly doesn’t inside either. The open concept that once characterized your home is gone now, replaced by clutter and tight halls. Even so, sunlight streams into the open space. Perfect little rivulets of warmth, comfort, and light filling the air and bringing life to your new home. You branch off into the kitchen as he wanders into the living room to see a fire roaring in your fireplace, and despite the summer heat, it feels perfect here. You walk back in a few minutes later, humming a soft tune as you set down two mugs of tea.
Tokoyami looks at you with wide eyes as he listens to your softly hummed tune. Why does it sound so familiar yet so different? He listens carefully and realizes one very important thing. It’s consistent, he can follow where it’s going. He can hum along. There’s no capriciousness or touch and go about it. No, for once, he can hear the moon’s soothing hymn, though something tells him he’s no longer listening for the moon.
You take your seat across from him, in the same chair you’d been sitting in when he arrived. The chair is covered in soft, plush blankets and fluffy pillows, which you make yourself comfortable with before reaching out for your book. “Y/N, can I ask you a question?” He asks.
You look up from the book you’d just opened and nod. “Anything. Think you’ll ask the right one?”
“I can only hope so.” He pauses, trying to think of exactly what it is he wants to ask. A certain thought gnaws at the back of his mind, carving out any logic that seems to have held him together all this time. Nothing about you is logical, he knows it. From your sudden appearance to the strange things you say, and tying all together with the house. He takes his tea and cups it in both hands before speaking again. “You aren’t human, are you? You’re something more than that.”
“Hm,” you manage. “That’s an interesting question. Why that one?”
He frowns. He knows why he chose that question, but how does he explain it without running the risk of sounding insane? What if it turns out that you’re just a very peculiar girl? He shakes his head, “It’s just a hunch.”
You giggle, the sound is magical. “Good hunch you’ve got there. No, I’m not human. But I’m not more than human, either. I just am.”
“So, what are you?” He asks.
“I think it’d be more fun to let you figure it out on your own,” you muse. “You’ve already gotten this far. I have no doubt you’ll get it in time.”
And as time passed, the stranger you became. Your home was different each time, each one reflecting more on the person you were that day. On days you were happy and feeling more in touch with yourself, it was a cottage, full of all the wonderful things he’d seen that first time. When you felt more cozy and relaxed, it was Tudor style. There were other homes for other moods too, something modern on your more eccentric and idea-filled days, Craftsman for your more productive days, and the Mediterranean for your more restless ones. He loved each of them, he loved how they always looked so different. He never grew tired of seeing what each day had in store.
Though there were days there would be no house at all. Those were the days he’d run into you in the strangest places doing the strangest things. They were also the days when you would be so distraught with whatever was going on that you wouldn’t even realize who he was when he’d approach you to ask if everything is okay. Those days always left an empty, sinking feeling inside of him, something akin to a black hole whose singularity is centered at his heart and eats him up entirely. He never likes to see you upset, but to be put in a position where he’s utterly helpless to you made it that much worse.
Tokoyami was falling more and more in love with who you were. A kind, caring soul who strives to nurture everything within your surroundings. You bring light and warmth to those around you. To be in your presence is most similar to being wrapped up in a blanket fresh out of the dryer. To be with you is to be safe and comfortable. Everything about you screams light and life, and he can’t help but find it ironic that he’s grown so fond of someone he considers to be the personification of light. To have always considered himself the personification of darkness and to find himself falling in love with the light in such a way is funny. What’s funnier is that he never thought about the fact that the two work wonderfully together.
He’d heard it thousands of times before, there can’t be light without the dark and the other way around. And though he’s never cared much for that sentiment as it separates the two, he finds himself approaching it differently these days. The two do not take from one another. They aren’t separate, not really. No, there’s always a fine point where the two blend together to create a strange sublime space, a place where they coincide and mingle. There in that space, the two mingle harmoniously, fingers intertwined to create a beautiful contrast as well as something so utterly harmonious that people seldom take the time to acknowledge it— so rarely acknowledged that there isn’t even a name for it.
He calls it heaven.
But, who would be so lucky as to find Heaven and get to keep it? Heaven is meant to be longed for, not to be fought for.
Yet, here he is. Perched on his branch, in the dark. He feels hollow, watching the moonlight dance, knowing that today you saw his face and had no clue who he was. You kept muttering about not doing enough, not being enough. Hearing it tore his heart to shreds. He knows the truth. He knows that what you do is more than enough. He knows that you’re always doing your best, even if you don’t, even if others don’t. He knows .
He looks up to the moon, a friend he’s known for a while. He knows it's been a while since he’s spoken, but he feels compelled to do so now. If not for himself, then for you. He inhales deeply before letting it all out and whispering his onesided conversation to himself, his prayer. “If there’s someone listening, I just want to ask one thing of you. Just, let me have this. I want to have this. She’s become everything to me, and I don’t want to imagine a life where we aren’t with one another all the time. I want her to love me on her good days and remember me on her bad ones. I want to love her through all of it and support her, too. I know, I know that I don’t talk much anymore. But, please, just let me have this. This one thing.”
Tokoyami falls silent after that, soaking up the still silence that he used to relish in. Even the moon’s soft sung hymn is nowhere within earshot, and somehow he’s okay with that. He’s come to associate it more with the sun anyway.
The sun .
That’s it.
You are the sun.
He’d spent so long wondering when you’d just let something slip and give it away that he never noticed all of the tell-tale signs that made it make sense. It all comes together when he thinks of the warmth and the light that radiates from you in neverending waves. It makes sense when he thinks about your bad days and how it’s always cloudy or raining, how there’s thunder that bellows from behind the clouds and lightning that brings more destruction than it does life. After being by your side for almost a year, he realizes how often you’d disappear sooner during the winter months and how moody you’d gotten during the turbulent spring. But the summer, that’s when you shine your brightest.
He should’ve known sooner. He should’ve known. Because, just as the moon had fallen in love with the water and all of its ripples and mysteries, Tokoyami had fallen in love with you and all of the little things that made you yourself.
He brings it up to you over tea one day. “Y/N. I think I finally figured it out,” he whispers.
“Oh, have you?” you smirk.
He nods. “I think so. It sounds silly, but I think you’re the sun. I think you’re the personification of the sun.”
He’d said it so plainly, almost as if it were a well-known fact. It wasn’t anything you could’ve ever seen coming, so of course, it took you back a few paces. No one has ever stuck around long enough to realize that there was anything any different about you at all, but he’d figured it out in a few weeks' time… and a little over a year later he got to the bottom of it. The mere thought brought tears to your eyes, but for the first time in a long time, they were happy tears. Tears that would nourish instead of destroying everything you’d worked so hard to protect. You could tell that it made Tokoyami somewhat uneasy, so you assured him. “I’m fine, really. I just never expected you to get it,” you cry.
“I’m right?”
“Yes, you’re right. Gods, goddesses, myths, legends, whatever you want to call them. Some of them hold truth. I’m not the way that I am mere because I decided to be or because of some quirk. No, I’ve been around since the beginning of time, and not once have I ever met a soul that could figure me out the way that you have,” you explain. “And, it is such a great feeling. Even my sister, she’s found many that loved her kindness and her inconsistencies enough to understand why they are there. But you, born of darkness so you say, have been the first to truly discover me, and for that… I thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m honored that I have been the one to love you enough to understand,” he replies quietly. “And, I’ll continue to do so throughout the rest of this life and any other I may be given.”
You look up at him, from across the small table the two of you are sitting at. For almost a year, this table has felt like such a massive gap between the two of you. Certainly, the lack of knowledge has assisted in maintaining that gap, but with that out of the way, it feels so minuscule. He watches as you lean across the table, bringing each of your faces closer and closer together so that they’re only a few centimeters apart. Your hand cups his cheek and he melts into the touch, knowing that Heaven might be his after all. You smile and press a soft kiss to the tip of his beak. Tokoyami looks up at you, his heart racing erratically in his chest. He can’t believe that he’d be so lucky.
Even years later, he still can’t fathom how lucky he’d gotten. Though the house changes every day, he gets to call your home his own as well. On good days, he gets to love you devotedly, with every bit of his being. Bad days still happen, and he’s still distraught at the sight of seeing you hurting, but at least you remember him enough on those days that he can be there for you. On the in-between days, the two of you enjoy everything that life has to offer. He spends years admiring and cherishing the heaven that he’d found, worshipping a goddess that worships him all the same. He hopes to sing her praises in his next life and every life after that. And, as he ages, watching himself turn feeble and grey, he watches as you remain all the same. Just as beautiful as the day he’d first seen you, and just as bright. He knows he’ll find you, always. And, when he sits to think about the life you shared with one another, he can’t help but feel immensely grateful that he was the one that got to be sun-kissed.