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“Honey, I’m home!” Heizou calls as he steps inside the apartment and closes the door gently behind him. He kicks off his sandals and lowers his bag to the ground.
It’s been a long day at work—interrogating a young bride accused of espionage, pursuing a Nobushi who attempted to break into a Konda Village residence, convincing Kujou Sara that, yes, his trip to Tsurumi Island last week was in fact business-related. At this point, he’s eager to sit down and leave the stresses of his job behind.
The apartment is quiet. There’s hardly a hint of life inside except for the faint glow emanating from the other end of the hallway. Heizou pads tenderly toward the light, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of his husband. His toes land upon unfamiliar terrain, nearly causing him to slip to his demise. He bends down and picks up a piece of paper. In the darkness, he can only make out the faint outline of two nobles standing hand-in-hand, dressed up and posed for the Kamera. Heizou recognizes one of them as the venerable Shirasagi Himegimi.
Right, she’s getting married. Good for her.
Heizou folds up the paper and tucks it into his haori. He isn’t exactly fond of litter. He knows Kazuha isn’t either. They used to be so good about it—keeping the apartment tidy. But lately, even the simplest chores seem so difficult.
Heizou proceeds down the hallway, where the slow trickle of a kitchen faucet alerts him to another’s presence. There his husband stands, white hair falling messily around his shoulders, clothes wrinkled from post-laundry neglect. Even like this, he is beautiful. So, so beautiful, yet clearly unwell.
“Hey, love. How was your day?” Heizou asks. There’s a slight hesitation in his voice, as if he’s skating around something fragile.
Kazuha stands facing the wall, holding a cup in one hand and a sponge in the other. He’s visibly trembling, struggling to get the two items to connect.
“Kazuha? Hey, you look pale, and your face is covered in sweat. Are you alright?”
Kazuha makes no effort to respond. His lips are pursed, and his eyes stare blankly ahead.
But for Heizou, the sound of glass breaking is answer enough.
Kazuha barely flinches, just reaches down with shaking arms to clean up the shards. Heizou immediately catches his wrist, squeezing with more force than is probably necessary.
“Stop. You’re going to cut yourself. Step back, please. Let me handle this.”
Months ago, Kazuha would have harnessed his Anemo powers to summon a tiny gust to sweep up the fragments and carefully dispose of them in the waste bin. But lately, the samurai’s Vision sits abandoned on the bedside table, faded from disuse.
Kazuha obediently backs away. He tries to put on a brave face, but within moments he’s collapsed to his knees on the ground, holding his head in his hands.
Heizou quickly follows him to the floor, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.
“Kazuha? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I…I’m so sorry,” Kazuha sobs. “I can’t do this. I'm so sorry...”
“Shh, you’re okay. I’m right here. What is it you can’t do? Please, tell me.”
Heizou needs to stay strong, but he's nibbling on his lip, unsure if he’s ready to hear the truth.
“I…” Kazuha’s voice comes out raspy and afraid. “I can’t be the husband you deserve. I’m not— I can’t—”
Heizou squeezes his eyes shut, wishing this to just be a bad nightmare he’ll wake up from soon.
How did things get this way?
It felt like it was just yesterday, the two of them stood before the Grand Narukami Shrine, dressed in their finest kimonos, donning matching half-ponytails, the cheekiest smiles plastered on their faces. With seemingly half the nation watching, they tied the knot and said their “I do”’s, before promptly embarking on an unforgettable two-week honeymoon on Watatsumi Island.
When did it all fall apart?
Heizou used to come home from work everyday, exhausted, yet energized by the promise of another wonderful night with his favorite person. Kazuha would set the table with delicious bowls of rice and grilled meats, and the two would enjoy their meal side-by-side. The apartment would fill with giggles and chatter—sometimes even the sounds of their passion.
Will they ever be whole again?
Heizou wraps his arms around Kazuha and pulls him into a tight embrace. He wants Kazuha to know that he is loved. He wants him to understand that this darkness is but a passing shadow.
But deep down, Heizou is well aware: even the warmest embrace is not enough to heal a broken man.
Heizou claps his hands together and rests his lips upon his fingertips. It’s been several moons since he last visited the shrine. Far too many moons. Perhaps this is his punishment.
His ears perk up at the sound of footsteps, accompanied by the quiet rustle of silk robes and the clinking of jewelry. He opens one eye and is immediately greeted by pink.
“Fancy seeing you here, little deer,” the approaching priestess remarks. “I don't recall you being a man of faith.”
“Lady Guuji,” Heizou acknowledges her, bowing his head slightly. “I confess, I haven’t lived the most pious of lives. But even so, I’m not above asking for help."
“Pray tell, what is it that weighs upon your troubled mind?”
“It’s… Kazuha. My husband. He’s not doing well.”
"Oh? Some sort of physical ailment?"
"No, a mental one. He's been having panic attacks lately. Sometimes he'll just start shivering, or hyperventilating, or crying. He says he's not good enough. He says he can't be the husband I deserve. But I’ve never thought that for a second! I keep trying to comfort him. I tell him every day that I love him, that he's everything I've ever needed, but nothing seems to work. I'm all out of ideas. I don’t know what else to do…”
“Deep breaths, little one. In order to help another, you must first help yourself.”
Heizou does as he’s told, sucking in a mouthful of air, then exhaling it slowly through his nose. “Right. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. But to your concern— One of the shrine maidens taught me a phrase recently that might shed some light on your situation. The phrase goes like this: 'Two become one; one becomes none'…”
“I’m afraid I’m not following.”
“Come now, you’ve barely given yourself time to think! You’re a bright detective, I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Heizou holds a hand to his chin. “‘Two become one; one becomes none’…” he repeats quietly to himself. “When two individuals marry, they often meld into a single, shared identity. But in the process of surrendering themselves, they risk dissolving the entire relationship…”
“That’s right,” Miko replies in her distinctive educating tone. “The truth is, even in marriage, you two were never meant to give yourselves up completely. Each partner still maintains their own individual needs. If neglected, these could spell disaster for you both.”
“I see… So that’s how it is…” Heizou murmurs, his mind already spinning a new plot. “Thank you, Guuji Yae. This was helpful. I think I understand what I need to do now.”
“You’re most welcome, little deer. Good luck to you both. And say hello to the young maple leaf for me, will you?”
"Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" Kazuha asks, clinging to Heizou's arm. His breathing is steady today, at least. That’s a good start.
"Of course. It's my office, why wouldn't it be? Besides, there's something I need to show you."
Heizou leads his partner farther into the den. There are files scattered all across the room, and the distinct smell of fried fish permeates the air, betraying Heizou’s recent habit of sneaking midnight snacks into the Police Station whenever his cases keep him late.
Kazuha directs his attention to an evidence board along the far wall. The board features several maps, pictures, and newspaper clippings, along with a half-dozen hand-written notes, all held in place by colorful tacks and connected via an intricate network of yarn.
“I’ll have that one solved by tomorrow,” Heizou comments. “Just need to interview one more person at the Yashiro Commission to confirm my suspicions, and then I’ll be ready to file my report.”
“Looks like quite the impressive undertaking.”
“It was one of the more challenging cases this month, I’ll give it that much.”
“This isn’t what you brought me here to see, though, is it?”
“Not at all. Come over here.”
Kazuha turns toward his husband and finds himself staring up at another evidence board, this one hung directly opposite of Heizou’s desk. However, instead of crime scene artifacts and detective notes, this one is covered in decorative trinkets and personal mementos. Kazuha follows the line of thread from one object to the next: a maple leaf he had gifted Heizou on their very first date, a picture Gorou had snapped of them fishing together on Watatsumi Island, a card Yoimiya had presented them on the day of their wedding.
“These are…”
“My most prized possessions,” Heizou answers, holding his gaze on Kazuha as the samurai continues to run his eyes up and down the board. “These are the things that help me get out of bed every morning, that keep me coming into work every day, that give me the strength and motivation to power through the most difficult of cases. By the same token, they’re also the things that keep me up at night—that keep me tossing and turning when I know something is amiss.”
“Heizou…”
“Kazuha, you are my everything. You’re my sun and my stars. You’re my treasure-seeking Seelie. You’re the light that guides me through the darkest of tunnels. That’s why…that’s why I need you to be healthy. And happy.”
“I know… I’m trying—”
“I realized something important recently. I realized: you were never made to be rooted like this, confined to a life of domesticity. You were made to roam! To drift, like a maple leaf in the summer breeze. I think that’s why everything has felt so difficult lately. It’s time you got your freedom back.”
“W-what are you implying?”
“...Oh, no no no! I’m not suggesting that we divorce. I’ll still be yours, forever and always. I’ll still be the home you can return to anytime. But let’s face it, it isn’t helping either of us for you to be cooped up on this island. I want you to travel again—to feel the ocean mist on your face and to taste the foods of faraway lands. Can you do that, Kazuha? Can you do that for me?”
Kazuha stares at him, eyes wide. Ever since they got married, he has never dared consider leaving his husband’s side. But it does make sense, what Heizou is saying. His body, his mind, his soul—they all yearn for adventure, to be one with nature once more.
“I-I’m a bit nervous,” Kazuha admits, “but… I can do it. This will be good for me. For both of us.”
Heizou nods, scooping up Kazuha’s hand in his own. He squeezes gently, his hand an extension of the chest that squeezes around his rejuvenated heart.
“Thank you, Kazuha. You’re the best husband I could ever ask for. I love you so much.”
“I love you back, Heizou. More than words can say.”
“Kazuha! Hurry up, kid! The Alcor’s setting sail in ten minutes, whether you’re on ‘er or not!”
“Heard, Captain!”
Heizou inspects his husband from head to toe. Kazuha looks especially beautiful this morning—his cheeks dusted a rosy pink, kissed by the frosty air, plus a couple dozen times by him. Wearing his katana at his hip and his Vision over his shoulder, Kazuha has the appearance of a true adventurer, ready to tackle whatever obstacles might stand in his way.
“Your lunch, dear,” Heizou says, handing him a delicately packaged box.
“Many thanks.”
“You’ve got everything else you need?”
“I believe so. Except maybe one last kiss from my favorite person?”
Heizou smiles and immediately leans in. Who is he to say no?
As their lips meet, time seems to grind to a halt. It doesn’t matter that there are people oohing and aahing around them. It doesn’t matter that Heizou has a mound of cases waiting for him on his desk at the Police Station. All that matters is that the two of them are here together now, whole again.
After several moments, Heizou finally peels away. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, hoping Kazuha doesn’t notice.
“I’ll be back before you know it, love,” Kazuha assures him. “I’ll return to you soon, stronger than ever.”
Heizou lets out a labored sigh. He didn’t expect this farewell to be so difficult. But if previous experience is anything to go by, he knows the tough goodbye will just make their eventual reunion that much sweeter.
He straightens out his shoulders and gives Kazuha one last good look, committing his image to memory.
“Promise?” he asks.
“Promise.”