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There is a saying that goes, “You don’t fall in love with someone till you see them fly.”
And while love is not a one-time matter, but a process, there is one moment in Itto’s life that was the beginning of his love—the shiver of a lily’s blossoming bud as it rises from the ground and unfolds its petals to the vastness of the accepting world.
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Some say that spring brings love to the air, and Itto thinks that must be the reason for the unexplainable pungence in Inazuma’s atmosphere. The day unfolds like every other, following through with the same routine stillness there is in the mainland city as on every other day, but Itto decides he won’t ruin his day with this vague discomfort.
With spring approaching, there is an abundance of cherry blossoms drifting through the air, painting the environment more pink than it is any other colour. He isn’t one to nitpick on matters that barely itched his brain, and after all, he had a meeting to clear with Ayaka regarding one of the commissions she needed a favour for. “Something on your mind? Or are you trying to keep the deets to yourself?” Itto asks while they’re talking, jumping around excitedly with a notorious glimmer in his eyes. He spins on his heel till he’s standing in front of her, blocking the path.
Ayaka makes a face, and while only her eyes are visible beyond the cover of her fan, Itto knows well enough that she would like him to move so they can continue on their way. “No, you’re not supposed to find out for yourself. There’s a friend of mine I want you to meet, but he didn’t show up to the Kamisato Estate like he was supposed to. We’re looking for him,” she clarifies, making her underlying intent of making him move more obvious through her narrowed eyes. Noting this, Itto raises both arms into the air and lets out a hearty chuckle, turning his back around. Instead of looking back to the front of the path, he accidentally stops at a position that’s slightly tilted towards the field right beyond the shoreside and for a moment, he pauses.
“Ah, that’s him,” Ayaka comments from the side, fanning herself. Itto, however, doesn’t hear much else as if his ears have dumbed down any surrounding noise. His eyes widen ever so slightly as he watches the agile movements of the man in front of him, unaware of his own large presence.
Wielding a polearm, the man with dark blonde—almost ginger—and hair tied back with a black bandana pauses, catching his breath for a few moments. He stares intently at the ground in front of him, perhaps calculating his movements and in a matter of seconds, he runs forward and then he jumps. Itto’s eyes widen further, and cinematically, a gust of wind blows, tousling his hair into a mess worse than it already was.
The outline of the latter reflects into Itto’s eyes, moving amongst one of the many stars in them. Embers of a flame manifest from thin air, engulfing the man within them, but not touching his skin even once. Seconds later, Itto comes to terms with the throbbing of his heart as the blonde slowly lands on both of his feet, leaving the mark of a perfect circle in flames, still lingering in the air before extinguishing itself. “Thoma! Thoma!” Ayaka calls out, extending her arm into the air.
Thoma… Thoma. The name slowly but surely etches itself into Itto’s mind, making itself such a permanent engraving that it would soon become all he ever thinks about, even before he could catch up to the reality of the situation himself. The blonde turns his head and he starts jogging towards them both, seemingly out of breath with beads of perspiration trickling down his forehead. “Did you need something from me… ha? Anything you… ha… need?” he questions breathlessly, bending down with both palms pressed against his knees to catch his breath.
At this height, he’s at Ayaka’s eye-level and he hasn’t yet acknowledged Itto’s presence. While it’s in the oni’s nature to normally interject a conversation, whether or not it involves him at all, he is left flustered from the wave of awe that washed over him only moments before. With him being so tall and large with his bulky frame, he wonders how Thoma hasn’t noticed him yet—until he does, when he turns his head to catch a glimpse of the second person who arrived with Ayaka, staring at him in bewilderment and a wobbly grin on his face.
Thoma smiles, face flushed red from his physical activity from earlier and Itto feels his stomach twist. “Did you forget that we had a meeting scheduled for today? About the Yashiro commission at Watatsumi—”
“My name is Aratakki Itto, leader of the Aratakki Itto gang—” the oni blurts, cutting Ayaka off mid-sentence, and he does so with such loud volume that the passers-by who had been in the area turn their heads to question the suddenness of his yelling. Both Ayaka and Thoma snap their heads towards him, questioning his unprecedented outburst.
“Oh, uh, hello,” Thoma greets him, standing up properly. With his lanky frame, he looks much taller than he is in reality, though he’s still much shorter than Itto himself. For someone with an average frame, from what he has seen so far, Itto shouldn’t be so impressed. It’s at this point where the blonde’s lips curl into a widening grin, his smile creeping as far as his eyes as well. Itto finds himself smiling, even wider than he was before, excitement bubbling up within him to extents he has never seen before.
Ayaka watches this exchange with a curious gaze, looking between the two of them with an eyebrow raised and interest piqued.
“Seeing as though you were in the middle of training, how would you like to meet another day instead? After all, I’ll need two sets of hands for the job I have ready,” she speaks up, interrupting the silence between both men. Itto looks back at her, peeling his eyes off Thoma for the first time since they’ve gotten here and she gives him a particular look, one that he doesn’t understand just yet but would know by his heart all too soon.
───────
Itto and Thoma meet officially in the name of business the day after their unofficial meeting. While he normally isn’t the type to show up until ten minutes after the set time, Itto arrives earlier than usual while radiating boundless energy. “Where is he? The one from yesterday?” he questions over and over again while trying to look over one of the helpers’ shoulders as she opens the door. Behind it emerges only Ayaka and no one else, which he must admit, is a little disappointing. As he walks into the Estate, he isn’t once baffled by the grandiosity of the place, the attention of his mind captured by other, more… distracting matters.
Spring has warmed up Inazuma, basking it in more sunlight than it sees around most times of the year.
It has left Itto feeling more dazed than usual, the warmth stirring something within him that he can’t put a name to himself. It’s not like he knows himself very well either, and he has a habit of leaving things unnamed since it takes the trouble out of situations. Ayaka sits him down in front of one of the kotatsu tables, in front of which he practically vibrates with excitement. Itto sits with a straightened back, fixing his gaze straight on the shelf with his wide palms pressed against his knees. He waits, and even after a few moments, his excitement doesn’t waver.
Then, he continues to wait, his hands curling tighter around his lap. Not far behind him, his cautious ears catch the sound of nearing footsteps, prompting him to turn. Yet, to his dismay, Ayaka enters the room alone and with a disappointed expression.
“It seems he’s late. He isn’t normally like this, so I’m guessing he must’ve run into some trouble,” Ayaka sighs, sitting down in front of Itto. The oni frowns, eyebrows furrowed downward as he feels a strain in his heart, a pang of… sadness, it may be, pierce his heart as the misfortune of the situation.
In the very next moment, the tatami door slides wide open, clattering loudly as it hits the other side of the wall. Itto turns his head, vaguely surprised by the sudden presence till it’s later replaced by an inexplicable excitement and a bright-eyed look on his awestruck face. “Sorry I’m late! I had to, uh—Taromaru swallowed a… ball? I had to help him choke it out,” he rambles, dipping his head to once again catch his breath. Itto wonders if it’ll be a normal thing to meet Thoma only when he’s out of breath and flushed from running.
“Had this excuse come from anybody else, I would’ve thought it was a lie,” Ayaka replies with a light-hearted giggle. “Come, join us,” she invites, pointing towards one of the cushion seats next to Itto’s side of the table to welcome him.
Thoma nods frantically, wearing an awkward grin on his face as he stumbles forward with light steps and plops himself down on the ground. The first thing he notices is Itto’s staring, after all, with the intensity of the oni’s gaze, he might end up with a hole burned through his face. To this, he greets the latter with a short wave and a toothy smile. “About the commission,” Ayaka begins, staring pointedly at Itto as a warning before he speaks up and spirals into an endless conversation with terrible, cheesy introductions.
Itto silences himself, pressing his lips together with his index and thumb as a gesture to show that he’ll be keeping himself quiet. Thoma sees this and lets out a chuckle, humoured by his odd gestures. They lock eyes for a few seconds, each finding something funny in the situation, but suppressing their laughter in front of Ayaka before they earn a scolding. “I needed two people who would be able to head over to Watatsumi to pick up some of the pearls as requested by one of the local businesses in the city. By waverider, it’ll be only a half-day trip,” Ayaka starts, knowing the two men would have to listen to her once she does.
“Why did you need the two of us to go then?” Thoma asks out of the blue, and Itto realises how meek his voice sounds even when he speaks up louder. It’s unlike his own, bold and confident, even when he tries to speak softer. He realises how, over the span of a few minutes and a brief encounter from the day before, they are really so different. “I mean, it’s not that I have an issue with it but we don’t know each other at all!” he clarifies, trying to clear any opportunity for a misunderstanding.
“Hm,” Ayaka hums in acknowledgement, thinking about the question. The smile on her face, however, suggests that she knows the answer already. “I thought the two of you would make great friends, I suppose; but it’s because you two were the only people on the roster who weren’t busy on an expedition,” she elaborates, ending her sentence with a small tilt of her head.
If there is any underlying meaning to her words, both men are too air-headed or perpetually distracted to read into it. Paying no heed to the blank reactions from her guests, Ayaka stands, turning her gaze to the supposed location of the kitchen before glancing around the rest of the room.
“I will—now—” Ayaka says in between pauses, slowly inching towards the kitchen’s direction. “I will go check on lunch’s progress and till then, you two can talk. I will be right back,” is all the context she provides before scampering on the tips of her toes towards the kitchen, vanishing behind the cover of a wall. Thoma, being terrible with strangers he doesn’t know too well, turns his head away while fidgeting with the fabric of the kotatsu table.
Itto, on the other hand, has never had a problem with talking to new people, especially ones that have impressed him. “Hey! Your name’s Thoma, right? Is it pronounced as To-hhhh-ma or Th-oh-ma?” he asks, leaning forward too close out of his curiosity.
When the latter turns his head, he’s met face to face with crimson eyes boring deep into his own, their faces close within such a close proximity that Thoma freezes in his place, gaze falling to the oni’s exposed chest. Itto’s abdomen brushes up against his knee just slightly every time Thoma tries to move, practically locking him in his place with nowhere to move.
“It’s the second one. Thoma, ” he clarifies, flicking his eyes up briefly before lowering them once more bashfully. Itto raises an eyebrow, intrigued by his attitude and not so much by his answer, noticing his lowered gaze. He looks down as well, soon understanding the object of Thoma’s interest. Snorting with mirth, he twists his hips just a little more to press another arm down on the other side of Thoma’s leg and eyes narrowed in a teasing manner.
“Eyes up here, Thoma,” Itto beckons, reaching his free hand out to angle Thoma’s jaw upwards. Once their eyes meet once more, a feeling gushes through Itto like none other he has felt before. A brief sense of bewilderment sends his heart clammering in his chest, shaking under the weight of his fast-changing, volatile emotions. He didn’t think he could get such a pretty stranger so flustered with a simple action but it’s enjoyable, to say the least, it humours him.
A part of Thoma’s low ponytail falls over his shoulder, touching the end of his collar but no further than that. Itto notes how their hair would almost be the same length, untied. It fascinates him, every little detail about this man. Upon hearing footsteps and the clanging of pans, he pulls away at last, not before brushing his thumb along Thoma’s jaw to fluster him once more.
It isn’t quite an attempt as he knows it’ll work well without doubt, and Thoma looks down immediately once he catches Ayaka approaching the two of them. He clenches his hands around the loose fabric of his crimson-coloured vest, face just as bright of a shade as his clothing, struggling to contain his obvious mortification. The Kamisato daughter enters with maids carrying lunch on wide tray platters, trailing her footsteps till she enters the room. Itto’s jaw drops as a large stone hot pot bowl is laid out in front of him, its ingredients still cooking in the boiling broth. Three plates of rice and Ayaka’s personal favourite dish, “Snow on the Hearth” is laid in front of them.
“Why does your face look so red, Thoma? Should I turn up the fans?” she asks while settling down, glancing once to look at Itto for any plausible reason, only to see an unhelpful, mouth-watering expression on the oni’s face and no telltale signs as to what could’ve happened in her absence. Thoma snaps his head up quickly, lips pressed together.
“Uh—uh, sure. I feel warm,” he chuckles awkwardly, tugging at his collar. It’s the first time his face hasn’t lit up completely at the sight of a hot pot dish, but Itto doesn’t know this, instead focusing all his attention on fitting as much food as he can in his mouth. Apparently he’d said his prayers while Ayaka and Thoma were having the conversation, helping himself to hefty portions while he had the chance to. The other two stare at him, but he looks over at them over his bowl of rice, questioning what he must’ve done to receive such unreadable looks from either of them.
Ayaka sighs and Thoma laughs once more.
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The ocean is especially blue on the day that Itto means to set off on his commission to Watatsumi. As of late, the waters have been a murky, ashen grey; the sadness and monotony of the city leaking into the waves that seem to have slowed into a depressing calmness. Before leaving the Kamisato Estate on their first official meeting, Thoma suggested that they could meet at the island itself and while Itto was hoping they could travel together, couldn’t push it for too long. Sighing happily, he reaches both of his arms into the air to stretch the achiness out, absent-mindedly sauntering towards the beach. It’s only at this point where he notices another person at the beach, fixing up an old waverider with careful effort.
“Thoma! Hey, hey, is that you?” Itto yells excitedly, happiness dancing in his eyes with a new wildness. He jogs towards the unsuspecting Thoma and right before he can turn, wraps an arm around his shoulders tightly. “Are ya planning on going to Watatsumi now? Mind if I join ya?” he questions, leaning forward to read his expression. Thoma, though, tries to process the situation and the circumstance of being jumped so suddenly by a man twice his own size.
Pressing a hand back in an attempt to nudge Itto’s arm off his shoulder, he looks back up at the oni. “Don’t you have your own waverider?” he asks in response and Itto finally releases his grip, only to shake his head confidently in denial. “How did you plan on getting there yourself then?” Thoma wonders, still fidgeting with the rope with which he had tied the waverider to the shore. He turns his head and pulls it harder as he notices the waves trying to steal his boat away from him, trying it around his hand instead.
There’s a sense of urgency on his face, not wanting to dawdle for long while his boat is in the potential risk of being pulled out of his grip with a wave that’s too strong.
“Dunno, I would’ve flown,” Itto shrugs nonchalantly, truly having no plan at all.
“You can fly?” Thoma gapes, eyes widening.
“I’m not sure if onis can do that but I can definitely try,” the former replies, swinging his arm across his torso in a jolly manner. Thoma’s not sure what to pick up from this, but he wouldn’t quite be surprised if Itto was an alien of sorts that’s not native to Teyvat. He’s sure he wouldn’t even be shocked if he jumped one day and accidentally started flying. With a brief nod of acknowledgement and a short moment to rethink his decision, he turns his face back to face the oni.
“Seeing as though flying isn’t such a reliable plan, care to join me?” Thoma offers in exchange, receiving a boisterous approval in return. From here, he allows the oni into his waverider first before stepping in himself, making sure the moist and rusty planks of the poor boat would be able to sustain the oni’s weight. They creak and squeak under pressure but ultimately don’t give way to Thoma’s relief. “Sorry, I haven’t used this boat in forever. I’m hoping it won’t break while we’re in the middle of the ocean and drown us, or something,” Thoma apologises, gingerly stepping into the boat, trying to squeeze around Itto to reach the front seat with the steering wheel.
As he sits down, he notices his lower back is pressed up against something stiff—which he later realises to be Itto’s thighs. He turns his head back slowly, face flushing red when he sees their closeness, wondering if the latter is uncomfortable with the situation. “Do you mind… uh? My back is kind of…” he stammers, stumbling on his words despite trying his hardest to make sense.
“What? Nah. I don’t mind,” Itto replies, waving his arm through the air dismissively. He rests both elbows against the open edges of the boat, back leaned up against the edge of the boat. Thoma nods slowly, turning back to face the front of the ocean. Releasing the rope that ties it to the shore, he braces himself as the backwash gives a mighty push to the waverider, sending them out onto the ocean. Only a few moments pass before Itto’s attention wanes and he get distracted. He shifts a little too abruptly and accidentally tilts one side of the boat, and with his weight, almost leads to it capsizing. Thoma, however, recovers just in time and grabs Itto by the knee.
“Wait, don’t move like that. You’re going to make us capsize,” he warns, holding his side of the boat down with all his strength to balance his waverider. Itto finally calms down once he’s told, but the aggression of his actions has already gotten water splashed on both of them, leaving them drenched with salt water. “So what? Did you have something to say?” Thoma asks, shrugging off his dampened vest to avoid the discomfort.
“I’m bored,” Itto replies plainly and Thoma almost deadpans at his measly reason for almost tipping them over into the water. He sighs, simply turning his head back out and he continues sailing, paying no heed to the latter’s following complaints. “Hello! Thoma, come on. You’ve got to give me some attention or I’ll die of boredom back here,” he grimaces, shifting his leg around till Thoma is continually nudged in the back with Itto’s uncomfortable movements.
“Just keep talking! And stop moving your leg like that, you’re going to hit me somewhere weird,” Thoma protests, earning a playful nudge in return from the oni before he divulges into a conversation of nothings and his curious observations of the world.
───────
With Itto distracted, they manage to reach Watatsumi Island with no real issues, except for a few hiccups every now and then with Thoma laughs a little too hard and steers the waverider in the opposite direction or ends up having to pull Itto back by the pants once his attention is caught by a random fish in the ocean. Once they dock their boat at the beaches of Watatsumi, they happen to run into the seller from whom they’re supposed to buy the pearls.
“Oh,” Thoma says blankly as he’s handed three large crates of pearls to fetch for Ayaka. He looks around his surroundings, wondering if he received the order from the wrong person because it couldn’t have been that the task was completed at such ease and so soon. Itto is also left confused by the suddenness of the situation, watching with narrowed eyes as the lanky man who offered them the pearls simply scampers off once his business with them is done, likely off to settle another order at another corner of the island. “Why did Ayaka need the two of us here? Seems like a job enough for only one person,” he frowns, slowly setting the box down on the beach.
“Hey!” Itto exclaims out loud, cutting Thoma off mid-sentence. “If you’re not doing anything today, wanna explore the island with me? There’s that opening over there next to the Sangonomiya Shrine so,” he pleads, turning around. Clasping Thoma’s hands in his own, he leans terribly close such that their noses almost touch. “I promise it’ll be fun,” he insists. He notices the hesitation in the latter’s expression, struggling to offer his word of approval to he pouts, deliberately forging a pitiful expression to persuade him into obliging.
“Fine, fine, it’s not like I have anything better to do with my day either way,” Thoma sighs and he’s finally released from the tight grip of the oni, only to later be wrangled around the neck by the over-enthusiastic Itto. Instead of trying to struggle out of his grip this time, he simply lets him do as he wishes, though unbeknownst to the growing smile on his own lips.
“Do you think the trees here are edible?” Itto asks out of nowhere while they’re venturing through the dense forests that shrouds the vicinity of the Sangonomiya shrine. It’s definitely prettier than the rest of Inazuma, especially with the environment following a consistent cotton-candy like pattern all over, but Thoma couldn’t figure what must’ve been going through the oni’s mind for him to present such a thought to him out loud. “They look like cotton candy,” he proceeds to say, pointing up at the canopy where leaves fade into pinkish hues.
“If you’re hungry, we could look for real food,” Thoma frowns, burying his hands into his pockets. Despite his reaction, he’d readily admit that Itto is funnier than he had initially expected, always forcing a laugh out of him with the easiest of actions and thoughtless words. He finds this side of Itto charming, the bits of his personality that has him saying even words that don’t make sense. He watches the latter with a look of scrutiny, perhaps curious about the sheer unpredictability of his nature. In a matter of seconds, however, a faint rumble is heard, breaking the silence of the forest.
They pause, exchanging a look of confusion until heat slowly and gradually rises to Itto’s face and he looks down, confirming Thoma’s suspicion. “You could’ve just said so,” he shakes his head, gripping onto Itto’s wrist before pulling him along the path.
───────
A couple of mistaken rounds later, they somehow find their way to Borou Village, in which they are lucky enough to find a general store selling ingredients at a cheaper price than the city on the mainland. Thoma buys a handful of vegetables and some wheat, enough to prepare bowls of ramen for them to eat by the nearby waterfall. There happens to be a campfire set up nearby too, perhaps used by locals often when they wish for a meal next to one of Watatsumi’s scenic landmarks.
“I hope you know how to cook. I might ask for seconds,” Itto remarks casually, kicking his legs off the cliff’s edge while swaying playfully. He watches with a curious expression as Thoma lowers himself onto his knees, slowly unpacking the ingredients to dump them slowly into the iron pot over the campfire. His smile falls a little, not because he’s bored, but because watching Thoma always leaves him with a nameless, awestruck sensation. Thoma laughs in the face of his comment and once he stands, presses a hand against his hip with attitude.
“I’ll have you know, I might be the best cook in all of Inazuma,” he states boldly. Itto hums, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “I’m the regular housekeeper of the Kamisato Estate. Ayaka always tries my food so I can guarantee you it’s the best you’ll ever put in your mouth,” Thoma continues, seemingly airing out his own ego.
“Guess we’ll get along great. Having a friend who can cook is incredible,” Itto chortles, lying back against the damp grass. He tucks his arms behind his head and closes his eyes with a small smile on his face while Thoma watches him, pink dusting his cheeks.
Maybe this isn’t so bad.
───────
Friendship isn’t quite a choice, it’s more of a chance.
It becomes obvious to everyone else that Itto and Thoma are the best of friends and the worst of them, each so different yet parallels to each other.
Some days are easier than others but they’ve always found something to love in each other—even as seasons passed and Inazuma’s snow would thicken too much to make it impossible to travel, they were a constant. At some point, it became normal to see each other so often, and a day without the other’s presence would feel like a day incomplete, so Itto would always search for Thoma—wherever he may be with a terrible joke and a complaint about the Shogun in tow.
───────
“Remind me again why you want me to style my bandana differently? I personally think this current style looks great on me,” and as he says this, Thoma continues to fidget with the fabric wrapped around his forehead with a look of insecurity. He fiddles with the edges, trying to smoothen them out once he decides he can’t style it any better than the messy state he has gotten it already. “Ahh, whatever. Sara and Ayaka will be here in a few moments, either way. We could just wait,” he suggests, leaning back against the wall behind him.
Ayaka only mentioned briefly that she’d like for all of them to help her choose a dress out for a gift to someone. They still have a few minutes on hand before their arrival, and they’re sure that neither of them would arrive even a second later from the planned time—but till then, they would have to find a way to kill time. “It would be cute to see ya with horns, though. You’d be a mini me,” Itto persists, reaching a hand out for Thoma’s bandana for the umpteenth time.
“I don’t need to be a mini you, Itto,” he sighs, trying to shove his arm away.
“Ya know, I promise to return all the money I borrowed from ya if you let me style your bandana. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick an onikabuto in my eye,” Itto swears, even holding up his pinky finger up to seal the deal. Thoma would like to deadpan, yet unfortunately, he finds humour in the situation and has to stifle a laugh. He’s sure he may be the only human in all of Inazuma to find Itto funny without effort.
“Okay, fine. I’m curious to see what you’ll do anyway,” Thoma accepts, moving his hands down to his sides.
Itto, snatching the opportunity, leans down immediately, startling him the first time he does. The latter should’ve gotten used to it already, with how much Itto likes to make sudden physical contact or get close without a warning but it’s never something he could ever keep in his mind as a conscious thought. He backs up against the wall, forcefully shoving his hands in his pocket to hide his nervousness and he tries to keep a cool face. The oni doesn’t pay heed to it and continues to fidget with the headband—gentle, by no means but somewhat agile.
When he steps away, a grin expands on his face and Thoma suddenly gets a bad feeling about the situation. He reaches his hands up to his head gingerly, not wanting to mess up what Itto did and he feels the edges of his bandana’s fabric point upwards. He presses his fingertips against them, and then over the one on the other side and he can briefly make out the shape of horns. Thoma’s eyes widen slowly and he turns his head, noticing a reflection of himself in the mirror hanging over the local restaurant. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise. “Hey, this isn’t so bad!”
“Wait, Thoma, ya mind looking over here for a sec?”
“What?”
As he turns his head, Thoma finds himself being locked in between two arms with Itto’s body suddenly pressed up against his own. All that separates them is a nervous hand pressed against the oni’s chest, keeping him from inching any closer. Although he tries to look away, Itto tilts his jaw such that they’re forced to intertwine gazes, and it only leaves Thoma flustered as ever. “What are you doing? We’re in public,” Thoma reminds, bending over backwards against the table he’s pushed up against.
“Cute horns,” Itto grins.
“They were your idea.”
“They should be your thing. You look pretty with them,” the latter responds, words laced with a flirtatious tone. There’s something scary about the way Itto gets when he tries to flirt, because he’s so much bigger and his fangs show when he grins. Thoma feels small in his presence, measly, hidden in his shadow and it scares him how much could happen to him if he isn’t careful. Itto tilts his head slightly and edges closer, pressing his thigh up between Thoma’s legs so he can’t escape.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Thoma questions once more and with how close Itto has gotten despite him trying to push them away from each other with one hand as support, he thinks he won’t be able to hold up any longer. It’s at this point where they hear a food order get yelled out, slicing through the heavy tension between them and giving Thoma an opportunity to flee. “You know, I have something important—very important to get to. You have fun, though, bye!”
And then, Thoma’s gone, dashing off down the steps of the city and behind the cover of the general store. Itto presses a hand against his hip and lets out a chuckle to himself, amused by his flustered behaviour. In the next few moments, he hears his name being called out from a voice nearby and sees the two women he’d been waiting for, standing across the street, looking as though they’ve been there for a while. “Hey ladies, what’s up?” he questions confidently as he sashays towards them. “Did I miss anything good?”
“What were you doing with Thoma over there?” Sara asks point blank, only to be later slapped in the arm by Ayaka who proceeds to aggressively whisper something in the ear. This doesn’t lead her to retracting her question, however, and she continues to stare at Itto with an expectant look.
“Oh heh, I was messing with him a little. He’s really cute when he becomes all red and shy, isn’t he? Wonder why it happens, though. Can’t figure,” Itto shrugs, combing his hands through his hair nonchalantly. This leaves Sara and Ayaka exchanging questioning stares, with him in the middle of them, wondering why they’re so confused. “Heeelloooo, is there anything I’m missing here?” he asks, leaning forward in between them. Sara flicks him on the forehead to force him away.
“Just continue walking along the path. We’ll follow,” Sara urges him and while he shows his reluctance with an exaggerated frown, grudgingly obliges.
───────
“I thought they were dating,” Sara furrows her eyebrows, turning to Ayaka.
“Trust me, we all do. It’s obvious,” Ayaka remarks, hiding her expression behind her hand fan as she watches Itto stumble through the streets with his lazy, carefree demeanour, picking up the new habit of stuffing his hands into his pockets instead of swinging them around like he normally does when they’re unoccupied. “I don’t think it’s one-sided,” she adds after her observation.
“Air-headed oni,” Sara sighs, shaking her head disappointedly.
───────
Thoma doesn’t change his style of bandana after that, continuing to do them up such that it mimics the shape of miniature horns, just as Itto likes them best.
───────
But one day, something feels off. It’s not the same kind of ‘off’ as it was on the day Itto saw Thoma for the first time, not the pleasant kind by any means. He wakes up to an uncomfortable churn of his stomach, leaving him feeling nauseous as he jerks awake abruptly. Itto scratches his head in confusion and turns his head to look out of the window, where he sees the sky darken with ashen clouds and lightning cut through the thinning cover of clouds
“I need to ask Thoma about this…” he notes to himself, even while his mind is half-asleep and he has barely gotten over his morning bleariness. Pushing himself off the bed, he catches a quick shower before changing into his daily attire and he leaves the house immediately. It’s not like he’d be able to properly stomach breakfast with his churning stomach. He jogs all the way till the beach where he was supposed to meet Thoma as promised, and they never fail to arrive here at the same time every weekend. When time tips over into just a few minutes past the arranged time, Itto finds himself worrying where Thoma could be, but he chooses to give it some time.
Itto lowers his head to the sand, parting his legs to stare at it. Reaching a finger down, he drags it across the sand, subconsciously drawing a picture of himself and Thoma, all in a simplistic art style but one that’s good enough. He finds himself smiling, but later feels a telling throb in his chest that sets off warning alarms in his brain. Ten minutes later, with no sign of Thoma, Itto knows that something is gravely, gravely wrong.
Hopping onto his feet immediately, he leaves the beach, glancing around frantically in hopes of finding Thoma somewhere in the surroundings, praying that—by some chance—he had accidentally forgotten the time of their meeting and got lost. Itto goes as far as the city when he begins hearing whispers aired in the dull surroundings, women running with children back into their houses and men with fearful faces whispering amongst themselves. “What the hell? Dude… Nah, this can’t be right. Thoma would never be late for our hangouts,” he protests, forcing himself to continue his search despite his futility.
As he goes farther into the city, he hears Thoma’s name being mentioned behind one of the walls. He slows down until he’s not even walking anymore and he approaches the sound of the voices. “Did you hear? He got taken away by the Shogun. No, I’m serious, they have him hostage in public and I think the Shogun is going to—kill him or something,” one of the men says out loud. A beat passes and the news crashes down on Itto hard , leaving his lips parted in shock and eyes widened. His eyes glow a dangerous shade of crimson as veins begin to protrude along the thin layer of skin of his clenched hand.
“Are you serious? But Thoma hasn’t even hurt a fly!”
“Vision Hunt Decree. What else could I tell you? It isn’t fair. Inazuma isn’t fair,” the first voice replies, exasperated and perhaps scared as well. Seconds later, Itto is running, the harsh, jarring sounds of his footsteps echoing through the hollow air. Shops have closed down and the territorial winds have sent any loose items into flight, snapping wooden signs off stores and pulling newly-grown flowers out of their spots in the ground. Itto’s heart throbs painfully fast, deafening in his ears as he rushes all around the city, mumbling prays under his breath in hopes of seeing Thoma just once more, to give him the chance to save him even if it means giving up himself.
Possessiveness washes over him to an extent he has never felt before, leaving feelings of anger, desperation, frustration bubbling up from within him, each fighting for dominance. He searches everywhere he possibly can in hopes of finding the Shogun and most importantly, Thoma, his mind churning with pessimistic possibilities and what-ifs.
When Itto finds the Shogun, she’s alone and Thoma is nowhere to be seen around her. He breathes loudly, eyes glaring with an uncontrollable rage as his fangs sharpen themselves outside his lips. He looks around, and his eyes end where the Shogun walks away from where she had been standing, her glowing sword in hand and back faced to the rest of the city. Itto lets out a huff and he releases the tightness in his hand, revealing a bloodied palm, blood slowly oozing from the gaps which had been left by the fingernails he mistakenly dug too deep.
“Thoma? Thoma?” he yells out till the strength of his voice dwindles. Passers-by stare at him in question, but he couldn’t care less about what the world would think about his hopelessness. Itto dip his head in disappointment, slowly engulfed by despair as the howling winds threaten to blow him over as though he’s one of the pitiful drifting plants, uprooted from their homes.
───────
Thoma is recovering at the Kamisato Estate.
Itto only hears about Thoma’s location a few days later in the form of a letter from Ayaka. He doesn’t waste a single second once he receives the note—in fact, he doesn’t bother reading the rest of the letter as well, instead picking up his things and rushing towards the Estate in hopes of seeing him again. There has been a large growing hole in his heart that Thoma used to fulfil with his presence, and Itto has since realised that being without the latter is more difficult than he would have ever comprehended.
Jostling past the maid that holds open the front door, he barges into the inner rooms of the Estate where Ayaka left the bedroom door open previously, expecting his presence right about this time. Itto stands at the doorway, one hand pressed against the open door and the other by his side, breathing heavily while he stares wide-eyed at Thoma. “Hey—hey buddy,” he starts nervously, walking into the room with cautious steps.
“I was worried about you…” he confesses, seeing Thoma’s eyes closed on the bed.
With the blanket kicked off the bed, he has a full view of his numerous injuries, blue-purple bruises blossoming against his pale skin over bleeding gashes. His face is flushed from an oncoming fever and Thoma’s eyes slowly flutter open. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he makes out Itto’s features and extends a hand weakly, trying to push himself up as well. “Thoma—hey, you don’t have to,” Itto clarifies, inching closer to hold him. Many parts of Thoma’s have always been too small for his hands and they seem even dainter with his body frail from what his wounds have taken from him.
“I haven’t eaten anything,” Thoma admits meekly, voice softer than it usually is. Itto turns to the platter of food on the bedside table which he noticed while he was at the door way, reaching for it gingerly so he doesn’t spill it over. He has never been more cautious with his actions than at this very moment, knowing he wouldn’t want to do anything to worsen the situation. A few moments pass and Itto holds the tray up to Thoma’s face, expecting him to feed himself until the latter slowly turns to him with an awkward smile on his face. And he asks, “Itto. Mind feeding me for a day? Just so I get better faster?”
Itto is taken aback by the request, knowing Thoma isn’t the type to ever ask for help, especially his help in particular. There isn’t a single trustable quality in Itto, although he’s generally loyal and too air-headed to attempt to intentionally harm anybody. In this moment, though, Thoma chooses to dismantle some of his walls to allow Itto to reach in, to bask in his reality. “Yeah—I mean, did you think I would say no?” the oni responds, choking out a snort once he composes himself. Lifting the bowl of rice porridge from the tray, he stirs the food slowly and distractedly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t manage to show up on time for our hang-out on Saturday. I wanted to,” Thoma apologises out of the blue, perhaps saying the least important thing he could in a circumstance like this. Itto would be surprised, but he knows the latter’s nature too well to have not seen this coming from at least miles away. Instead, he lifts a spoon to his face and makes him swallow, not wanting to say anything irresponsible about such a needless apology. “How have you been?” Thoma asks after some time, fidgeting with the seams of his loose clothes.
“Sad,” Itto replies curtly. “Things aren’t the same without ya.”
“Ha…” Thoma sighs, feigning exasperation, only for his weak smile to give away his true emotions. “You’re reckless with your words,” he continues after some time, and it seems the heat on his face has reached as far as the tips of his ears. Itto knows it happens only when he’s mortified, or when he’s bashful about something he has said.
“I can be sincere.”
Thoma doesn’t respond to this and instead leans forward to swallow the spoonful of porridge that Itto gathered on the spoon. Itto shakes himself out of his momentary daze, cooperating so that the patient doesn’t have to do so much of the work only to get food. Several moments pass in silence till later Itto makes a stubborn expression and suddenly retracts his hand away from Thoma. When this happens, he simply looks down with seriousness etched in his features, such that Thoma almost wonders what he has to say. This is a new demeanour from Itto altogether—this possessiveness and adamant care.
“One day I’m going to teach you how to use those horns of yours on your bandana and you’re going to headbutt the Shogun so she doesn’t ya the next time, ‘aight?” Itto blurts, mid-thought and with an extremely serious expression.
Thoma blinks. “You’re serious? Headbutt the Shogun?” he chortles, pressing a hand against his chest. When Itto looks up and his expression doesn’t shift at all, Thoma bursts into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, unable to tame himself, knowing the stupidity of the suggestion. While it’s weaker than his normal volume when he’s healthy, Itto finds his chest lightening a little and the tenseness in his features finally calms down. His fangs are revealed behind his lips as they curve slowly into what is barely a smile and if he could not do anything else, at least he has made Thoma laugh.
───────
Itto returns the next day, bearing a basket of flowers he bought off a local herbalist and some of the trinkets he knows Thoma would’ve liked to play with. It was a little expensive, but he could just ask the Aratakki gang to gather more Mora from commissions in the future—and besides, he couldn’t possibly give enough gifts when it comes to Thoma. He’s a little more excited than the day before, eager to see Thoma once more and spend the afternoon with him where he knows he’s safe.
Before he enters the room, he notices that the door is left ajar, and he hears talking inside. Itto hides his gift behind his back and walks in slowly, pushing the door open with his foot. Inside, he notices Thoma sitting up with his legs folded on the bed and a face he has never seen before. Itto’s gaze lingers for a few moments longer on Thoma’s shirtless body, though there’s not much to see with how much of it has been wrapped up in bandages to hide old scars. They both turn their heads towards him, seeing him at the door.
“Oh, nice to meet you, Itto. I’m Lumine, a traveller roaming Teyvat on some unfinished business,” she greets, bright-eyed and with gentle features. He’s even smaller than Thoma, petite even but Itto can’t figure out why he dislikes him so much.
“Aratakki Itto,” he introduces, still standing at the door. “I’ve never heard of ya before, are ya good friends with Thoma?” he asks, disguising his dislike for the anonymous traveller under a thin veil of humility, not wanting to spark a flame when this is obviously no place for conflict.
“She saved me from the Shogun. I wouldn’t have made it out alive with my vision if she wasn’t there to save me. We were talking about that just now—I mean, she came to visit since he’s been friends with Ayaka for a while now,” Thoma rambles, a smile of immense gratitude expanding on his face. Lumine looks down and locks eyes with the blonde, leaving Itto feeling as though he’s interfering in a situation that he shouldn’t be. He tries to smile, but his muscles pull it down against his will and suddenly there’s an ache in his chest, a sting that he has never felt before. As he stares at Thoma, the happiness which used to float around so freely in his eyes dims till it vanishes entirely.
“Oh, heh, I wish I was strong enough to protect you like that. You’re a cool one, Lumine,” Itto laughs, voice strained. He takes a step backwards, rolling his tongue over his teeth as the tenseness of the situation becomes too much for him to handle. “Either way, I didn’t come for anything important so sorry for interrupting! See ya another day,” he announces and proceeds to turn around, shutting the door behind him roughly. Thoma looks out to him with furrowed eyebrows and a worried gaze, questioning the oddity in his behaviour.
Itto, on the other hand, storms out of the Kamisato Estate in his unexplainable frustration, unable to pinpoint exactly why he’s really so sad. It could’ve been the worthlessness that came with his encounters from a few days before, the futility of his search and his inability to be there for Thoma when he was needed the most. If he had been stronger and more aware, he would have been enough and Thoma wouldn’t have needed help from a traveller to rescue him. Itto should’ve been enough. Once he’s outside, he flings the basket in his hand in the heat of his moment, kicking one of the bundles of flowers and trembling on another.
I should’ve been enough.
───────
When Itto decides that he can’t put a name to the myriad of swirling feelings in his chest—the hopelessness, the fear, the possessiveness—he decides he’ll consult someone equally as hopeless as himself, and perhaps willing to hear him out. He finds Sara on the training grounds of the Kujou Camp, where he had promised to meet her for a showdown in archery. While his initial plan was to take this challenge seriously, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to with what he had on his mind.
Instead of mentioning a snarky comment or over-enthusiastically sharpening his bow, Itto absent-mindedly fidgets with the bow in his hand, till his strange actions are taken into notice by Sara who gets increasingly frustrated by his half-assed attitude. “If you want to say something, then spit it out because I don’t want to see you moping on our training grounds when I could be practising,” she scolds him, releasing one of her arrows as she finishes her sentence. It shoots through the air and hits the bullseye of a target placed tens of metres away.
“I have a problem,” Itto starts once Sara turns her head to him. “It’s important,” he continues with a sense of urgency in his voice. Sara, on the other hand, decides it’s not important enough to require her full attention and averts her attention back to her target practice.
“As long as you don’t say you’re in love with me, it doesn’t bother me.”
“It’s about Thoma. ”
Sara finally turns her head to look, lowering the head of her arrow to the ground. There is curiosity in her bright yellow eyes, widened just slightly to show her interest. Itto sighs and takes a deep breath, feeling slightly guilty about what he’s about to admit.
“Recently, ever since Thoma got abducted, I’ve been feeling all these weird things about him. It’s kind of like… whenever I see him hurt, I feel so protective, like I want to keep him for myself and make sure he gets better because of me. You know? He’s different, he wouldn’t have minded if anybody else took care of me, as long as I got better but with him, it has to be me. I don’t like seeing him with other people. It frustrates me. I want to be good enough for him,” Itto rambles, making vague gestures in the air, accompanied by questioning expressions as he tries to sort out his own mess of emotions before being able to phrase them into sensible words.
This warrants a knowing expression from Sara, who then squeezes her eyes shut and inhales sharply. “Have you ever felt a funny feeling in your chest, or your stomach? Like when you’re around Thoma, you start to feel lighter and your heart starts to beat faster,” Sara asks, folding her arms with a scrutinising gaze, watching Itto’s every expression with care.
“The first time I saw him, yeah, and then it kind of… became normal. I like seeing him shy and all that, or being the reason he smiles. I want to be special to him. Like a best friend,” Itto adds, divulging himself into a train of thought he’s not supposed to be going to. Sara sucks in a breath and grabs onto Itto by both his shoulders, forcing him to look down at her before he continues to spiral into another course of thought that she wouldn’t be able to save him from.
“Have you never thought that you actually have feelings for him? I mean, you flirt with him all the time and anybody who sees you two together would think you’re dating,” she tells him, phrasing her words as straight-forwardly as possible. Itto stares at her, blank-faced and with not a single thought behind his eyes before bursting into a fit of laughter. He slaps his knee, clutching onto his stomach as he doubles over at the possibility of him having feelings for Itto. In the next second, he is suddenly struck across the face as Sara slaps him, forcing him to stop laughing. “Stop and listen to me,” she bellows, demanding for him to listen.
“Come on, don’t we all homoerotically flirt with our good friends?” Itto protests, rubbing his reddened cheek where the palm print of Sara’s hand still remains, far from fading. Sara’s expression yet again settles into a deadpan one and she shakes her head.
“Hate to break it to you.”
───────
Itto then realises, unfortunately, that he has a crush. This epiphany reaches him in large magnitudes, speaking to him in such volumes that he is left speechless with nothing else to think of the situation. As he runs his mind through the possibility, it all makes sense and he starts to wonder if he had truy been in love from the beginning but failed to realise it in the vastness of it all.
On the way home, as he happens to be looking out at the distant structure of the Kamisato Estate not far from his immediate view, he catches Thoma’s figure meandering outside the house, perhaps trying to train his muscles for action before they stiffen up from constant rest. He wears a set of pale white garments to allow ease during changing and his hair is tied up in a bun, a style that Itto has never seen on him before. As he watches this from afar, the one he loves so dearly dancing amongst the luminescent flowers that decorate the Estate, his heart beats faster and he looks away sadly.
I would hate to ruin our friendship.
───────
Weeks later, Itto and Thoma meet each other again to watch a fireworks show hosted by the Naganohara family in honour of a special occasion. The conversation doesn’t flow as easily as it used to before, when Itto was bolder and Thoma knew how to respond. And now—while nothing about the two of them individually has changed so adversely, it’s as though they never knew each other at all. “Do you like fireworks? They happen often around Inazuma but I don’t think we’ve ever watched them together,” Thoma questions, striking a conversation while they’re hiking up the hill on which there are the festive stalls and game stores.
“They’re great. It’s cool we’ll be watching them together. Won’t be the same as every other time, I figure,” Itto responds calmly, unlike his usual demeanour. As he glances around, he notices the area filled with couples—some faces he has never seen before, and some others that he knows well like Sara walking hand-in-hand with the divine priestess of Watatsumi Island, or Ayaka with Lumine. He sees Yoimiya in the distance, trying to befriend Kazuha who has been sitting at the ledge of the hill for a long time now, likely reminiscing about the past. “By the way, what are the chances of you hating me completely if I were to say something stupid?” he asks hypothetically.
“That would depend on what you say. You say a lot of stupid things regularly,” Thoma responds with a shrug, seemingly unaware of what Itto’s trying to get at. In fact, the oni’s not sure himself, and it’s not like the question was something he well-revised in his head before asking. For just a second, though, he wonders if it would make sense to confess his feelings right then and there so the two of them could be one of the couples amongst the many others on the hilltop.
The sky darkens above head, signalling their time to find a seat. “But seriously, I don’t think you could say anything ridiculous enough to make me hate you. I don’t mind,” Thoma replies, taking Itto’s wrist out of nowhere to lead him quickly to an empty spot on the ground. It’s right under the cover of a nearby tree and their vicinity is illuminated just enough by a hanging lantern. He sits down excitedly while looking towards Yoimiya over at the very tip of the hill, fidgeting with some of the fireworks before setting them off. However, Itto hasn’t been able to tear his eyes off Thoma for a while now, captivated by the innocence in his expression.
“I have a funny question,” he babbles, chuckling strangely.
Thoma quirks an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”
“What do you think of guys—like, uh, in general. Do you like guys?” Itto blurts, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Thoma takes a few moments to register the question entirely before his lips part in shock. It takes him a few moments longer to think of the proper answer to say.
“Yeah, I mean, a person’s gender doesn’t bother me. At all,” Thoma laughs.
“Oh,” Itto exclaims, a little louder than he previously intended and a happy smile inches onto his face. And with this, he decides, maybe he doesn’t need to confess right now—maybe he could leave it for another day, or a better time when the words would simply come out on their own. He fears, with this much happiness, he shouldn’t aim for any more else it’s bound to go wrong. To take his mind off Thoma, he moves away to inspect the nearby tree, where he sees a purple onikabuto slowly inching its way up the rough bark of the tree. “Ah! Onikabuto!” he squeals excitedly, staring at it with all his interest.
Thoma, curious to see what could have been the object of Itto’s interest, takes his place beside the oni and stares intently at the fascinating beetle. He has never been fond of insects himself but he doesn’t mind them either. Onikabuto are rather common around Inazuma, but he had never met a connoisseur just like Itto even once before in his life. “Should I touch it?” he wonders and before he can be warned against it, reaches a finger forward. His hasty movements startles the poor insect and it pinches him out of aggression before scuttling away. Thoma’s finger stings, blood oozing from the small cut that was sliced onto his skin. He grimaces.
“Thoma—Thoma, let me see that,” Itto insists, pulling him closer by the arm to inspect his wound carefully. Out of nowhere, he leans forward and licks the wound, cleaning the blood off it. It tickles Thoma in the process who turns his head away, a bright, scarlet blush treading up his cheeks. “Oni saliva has healing properties,” Itto tells him as a matter-of-factly and it’s the one time he’s right about a fact. Thoma, however, can’t find it in himself to turn back and face him.
Seeing this, Itto sighs and closes his own hand around Thoma’s, lowering his forehead to press against their intertwined hands. “If only you let me be with you forever then I’d be able to protect you all the time. Don’t want to see you hurt,” he confesses, unaware of the meaning behind his own words. Thoma’s body stiffens as he hears them, and suddenly his heart drums so loudly against his ribcage that Itto can hear it too. He looks up with furrowed brows and notices how Thoma’s blush has not only gone beyond his cheeks, but has started to spread to the rest of his face too.
“...Was that a confession?” Thoma asks him, tilting his head just a little and giving Itto’s hand a little squeeze. What used to be an expression of bashfulness is now replaced by a knowing smile, as though he had been prepared for this situation way before Itto himself.
Itto doesn’t get it at first, but when he does, he folds over and covers his face with his hand. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut, cursing repeatedly under his breath as the absence of Thoma’s answer and the awkwardness of the situation put together reminds him that he should’ve been more careful with his words. Friends don’t say things like that to friends. Friends don’t try to ruin friendships over a selfish crush.
In the close distance, the ground rumbles and suddenly, a series of colours is launched into the air, deafening the sounds of the environment with a cacophony of awestruck sighs and the flamboyant explosions of fireworks overhead. It’s at this very moment where Thoma pokes him on the head, urging him to look at him. He then leans closer, right to his ear and he says, “I don’t mind if it’s you.”
Fluttering right by them,, a lonesome flower which had been unrighteously plucked from the ground settles at the feet of a sapling, finally released by the wind. With the right amount of care, its petals blossom open slowly, revealing the heart of its being.