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Ultras are oftentimes known as beings of light. It is not inaccurate to compare them to stars.
Astra disagrees.
He has always viewed Ultras, especially those of L77, to be akin to the sun and fires. They are just as capable of light but also warmth.
When he is born, he empathizes with embers. He's remnants of a fire; warm but no longer blazing, with meagre sparks easy to extinguish.
It worsens during winter. His fingers and toes turn to ice if he isn't careful, his nose clogs more easily and sneezes torment his throat.
But it's okay. Leo nii-san stubbornly sticks by his side, scattering toys on his bed so they can play together. His father is there, still wearing his heavy cloak, clapping him on the shoulder, the warmth of his palm felt through the blankets.
The best part is his mother. Instead of his bedside, she is at the loom, weaving a length of yarn, the thickening line seemingly spooling straight from her fingertips.
He watches as she knits. The ball of yarn unspooling, clever fingers and precise needles weaving an intricate pattern that flows like a river.
She knits him a scarf that's so long, it hangs from his neck like a cape when he first wears it. She knits him mittens and socks that lets him run outside, the dexterity of his joints protected from the chill. She knits hats for him and his brother that warms their ears with space for their horns.
The cold gives the people an excuse to build bonfires, makes warm food taste better and brightens the lights and spirits of a festival.
He doesn't like the cold but he doesn't fear it either.
Because he is warm.
His cell is cold.
So cold, it burns.
It's unlike the wild chaos that clawed throughout his skin as his homeworld collapsed around him. This burn settled into his bones. It was needles through his veins and knives in his soul. It was cold, it was so so cold, it burned- it hurts.
Leo nii-san isn't here to keep him company, his father isn't there to reassure him and his mother-
He grits his teeth and tastes blood. It's metallic, sharp and bitter.
There is neither snow nor wind in his cell. Only darkness with hard walls and cold floors and cruel chains.
None of his family is here. Only cruel people and the echoes of ghost.
He curls in on himself tighter and even that causes him pain- it makes the chains scrape against the floor, the slight sound maddening to his senses (gone, broken, cracked- everything is either too soft or too loud, it's not right, something's wrong-) and it causes the shackles to rub against raw skin (his thigh itches and burns, he wants to rip his skin off to make it stop).
Every scarf, mitten, sock and hat his mother had ever knitted for him would be gone, torn to shreds and fed to the flames. Any yarn she might've weaved either sharing the same fate or pillaged away to be sold to some merchant who didn't even know half its true worth.
Gone, destroyed, burned, forgotten.
Just like his home.
Just like his people.
Just like himself.
Tears spill down his cheeks, scalding them.
He is cold and in that moment, he fears and despises it in equal amounts.
He is cold and there is no warmth.
He meditates.
He's always been better at meditation than Leo nii-san. But that didn't make it any easier under these circumstances.
However, the first time he manages to meditate- the first time he finally finds the calm within the eye of the storm, Astra shakily sighs with relief.
Though his mother can no longer weave yarn, he can, at the very least, weave a lifeline of sanity for himself while stuck in the misery of captivity.
He has to.
He can't give up like this.
He won't.
He is not going to die in such a cold dark place.
And so he meditates. Through that, he slowly but diligently feeds the fire he's built inside of him. He cannot allow tongues of flame to recklessly lick others but he can feed these embers so they provide a constant warmth.
Even warmth can spread. Even embers can burn.
So he feeds the embers and spreads their warmth throughout the stars, coaxing them to search for his brother's light (because he knows that Leo's burns the brightest amongst them all, never to be extinguished even when amongst ashes).
He meditates and though his cell is still cold, he feels a little bit warmer.
Earth can also be cold.
When it becomes cold, the humans also give their children scarves, mittens and hats, bundling them in fluffy sweaters and thick boots.
When it is cold, trees are decorated with a star and baubles, toys and presents are bought with greater enthusiasm and apparently, an old man who rides a sleigh pulled by reindeer is allowed to break into someone's home via a chimney?
(Astra hopes those poor reindeer are well taken care of. Personally, he'd rather leave treats for them instead of cookies for this 'Santa Claus'.)
"Ootori-san!"
'Haruto Ootori' smiled as the two human children, Tooru and Kaoru, ran towards him. The snow painted the tips of their nose red. It made both of them look unfairly adorable. No wonder his brother was so fond of them.
Kaoru was carrying something in her arms. Something she vainly tried to hide behind her as they halted in front of him.
"Wait, wait." Tooru narrowed his eyes. "Are you Gen or Haruto?"
Grinning, he took off his beanie to show his shorter cropped hair.
(The look on everyone's face when 'Gen Ootori' revealed he had a twin was amusing; the ensuing mischief even more so. In their human forms, Astra and Leo were identical, though the former had shorter hair and a thinner build.)
(The amusement from confusing people between the two was simple and childish and exciting. It reminded him of a time when his horns and home were whole and present.)
Satisfied at the confirmation, they shared a meaningful glance at one another. They were near shaking with excitement and Haruto’s heart warmed, remembering similar glances shared between him and his twin whenever they hid evidence of heir mischief.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” they cheered, revealing the present with gusto.
Though he had had an inkling, the enthusiastic sincerity touched his heart all the same. Haruto graciously accepted the gift.
The card attached to the box was clearly done by Tooru and Kaoru themselves. He tucked the card into his jacket before carefully untying the ribbon.
Opening the box, his eyes widen at the colorful patterns.
He reverently held out the sweater. The design was atrocious- it was a tacky green with tiny white buttons for snow. A giant reindeer with a red pom-pom for a nose stared from the center with matching pom-poms dangling from the cuffs.
“Try it, try it!” Kaoru chirped.
He pulled the garment over his head. It was a size too big and the sleeves almost covered his palms entirely. He must look ridiculous.
But it was soft.
And it was warm.
So very warm.
(“It’s the people who made this and give it that provides true warmth.” His mother’s voice told him as she tucked his horns under a hat.)
“Ootori-san?” Tooru asked. “Are you okay?”
Both children jumped in surprise as Haruto rushed forward and wrapped them in a wholehearted embrace.
If it were not for their many layers of clothing, they would have noticed a wetness on their shoulders.
“Thank you.” Haruto signed to them with a watery smile and eyes as radiant as the lights decorating the streets. “I love it.”
The children beamed under the gratitude.
Curling his fingers into a c-shape, he tipped his hand back towards his mouth.
“A drink? Oh! You want to drink with us!” Tooru guessed.
Haruto nodded and the warmth spread.
(Tooru and Kaoru never prodded about his lack of verbal communication despite the burning and sometimes tactless curiosity children were known for. He was grateful for that.)
(What he’s even more grateful for is the effort these two put into learning sign so no barriers, have it be language or age, stand between their friendship.)
“Hot chocolate?” Kaoru asked giddily.
Grinning, Haruto nodded.
“Yayy!” Kaoru cheered. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
Both of their little palms were warm and soft in his calloused ones (he hopes fate will be kind to these hands. That they’ll never have to feel blood crust under the nails).
Kaoru skips along and Tooru excitedly tells him about the activities Gen has planned for this week. Their arms swing back and forth like the ropes of his favourite swing.
A light snow continues to fall, snow crunches underfoot and when he exhales in puffs of white.
But when he breathes, the cold does not stab his lungs like needles. Instead, he chuckles at Tooru and Kaoru’s antics.
Despite the long walk he’s taken, his joints are unaffected by cold or fatigue. When he lifts his arm to wave at his brother, his gestures are full of life, the red pom-poms swinging in jubilation.
Gen laughs when he sees the ugly sweater he’s in and asks Tooru and Kaoru if this special gift is a sign of favoritism for his twin rather than himself.
They inside and he pours them hot chocolate. Sweet and fragrant with fluffy marshmallows on top. They sit around the kotatsu, a plate of cookies is passed amongst them and a radio plays holiday songs at a low volume perfect for further ambience
The sweater is soft and his family is happy and safe.
He still despises the cold. Unlike the passing of seasons, it will take much time for his fear of it to fade.
But it’s okay.
Because he’s finally, finally, warm.