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The blue and white petals stood out among the bright red and orange. Twisted stalks and serrated leaves. Some dripping with sap-like nectar, and others simply permeating that pungent scent.
“You have quite the garden.”
The voice startled Kiyoomi, nearly making him drop his staff into the thorny rosebushes in front of him. He raised his head to see a figure watching him from a tree branch. He was a young man with dark brown eyes, shadowed by the canopy of leaves around him, and wore nothing but a simple ornament loin cloth. Green swirls glazed his arms and chest. And from his right ear hung a little bit of silver hooked around a green crystal. And where his upper body was human, descending below the loin cloth was the bright golden and red of a fox’s legs and a bushy tail was strewn about. Long black nails extended a few centimeters past his fingertips and large fox ears rose from each side of his head.
Kiyoomi knew him as perhaps the worst of the resident twin forest deities, Atsumu Miya.
“Come to bother a busy wizard?” Kiyoomi asked half-heartedly. He really was busy. He had a large order of poultices to make before the next full moon.
While the werewolves meant no harm, some of their instincts were stronger than others. And not many had the prowess nor knowledge to contain one without getting hurt. As long as Kiyoomi had the ingredients to go around, he’d be able to hand out enough to last the next six months. Poison may have been a coward’s tool, but to the werewolves, it was a smell that only they could smell, and it deterred them from entering areas affected by said smell.
Atsumu shrugged and jumped down from the branch. He sauntered over, eyeing the garden with narrowed eyes. “I never picked you for being such a prickly man, Omi,” he said. “Some of these could kill someone within ten minutes if they pricked their finger even once.”
“I’m careful enough,” Kiyoomi replied, annoyed that Atsumu seemed to think he wasn’t capable of tending his own garden. After all, he was the one who chose to plant these of his own accord. If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have accepted the order from his surrounding neighbors.
“I would hope so,” Atsumu mumbled before bending down, slowly reaching out and stroking the petals of one of the roses.
“Hey, don’t touch those—!” Suddenly, the plant seemed to rise and those same petals snapped shut around Atsumu’s fingers. Kiyoomi froze, eyes wide while the deity pulled his hand away. His expression was blank as he stared at his finger, or rather where his finger should have been.
Instead, he stared at the bloody nub and white bone where the plant’s acid had seeped through and melted his joint. And just as suddenly, Atsumu’s blood began to glow, surrounding the wound and extending. Kiyoomi was speechless as he watched the deity regrow his own limbs, truly the power of a godlike being.
Atsumu flicked his eyes at Kiyoomi, a smirk growing on his lips as Kiyoomi tried to decipher the thin balance between horror and fascination. “You’ve even chosen to grow a few carnivorous plants. You must be quite pressed to create something powerful, even for your standards.”
Kiyoomi groaned and whipped his staff out, pointing it at the deity. “My business is my business, Atsumu. If you’re here to insult my gardening skills, do it later. I’m busy,” he growled. Atsumu snorted and slyly nodded toward the plants.
“Simply taking in the beauty. They’ve turned out beautiful,” he admitted. “But, you know what? There’s one flower more breathtaking than the rest. And I mean that beyond just literally killing unsuspecting victims. Breathtaking, I mean.”
“Or stupid deities who think it’s fine to stick their fingers into strange places,” Kiyoomi retorted. “But, enlighten me. What flower does Atsumu like best?”
Atsumu suddenly flicked his large ears, and sauntered over to Kiyoomi, wrapping his arms around the wizard and leaning into his shoulder. Kiyoomi could feel the man’s hot breath on his ear as Atsumu spoke.
“ The most beautiful one in this garden is you, Kiyoomi. ”
Kiyoomi’s gut fluttered as he pulled away, quickly making his way indoors. Embarrassment washed across his expression as he said nothing, just angrily waving his staff. Atsumu laughed and followed behind, his tail wagging back and forth furiously.
“You have to admit, Omi, that was one of my better ones!” he called out.
“Shut the hell up, fox!” Kiyoomi called back. Yet, as Atsumu got to the door, a hand reached out and yanked him inside. Kiyoomi fervently pressed his lips into the deity’s. “You are infuriating, Atsumu. Absolutely infuriating.”
Atsumu chuckled and nipped the end of Kiyoomi’s nose, earning him a light punch to the shoulder. “I guess even this flower has its thorns,” he playfully chided. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes at the terrible joke, but even he couldn’t keep himself from smiling in disbelief.
And as the day drew on, a wizard and a deity continued to peruse in each other’s presence. Even when the moon swapped places with the sun, they danced among the flowers, danger in the wake of every step, yet even if he could die, Atsumu allowed himself to continue drinking in Kiyoomi’s poison, a devout follower to his drug, his lips, and his touch.
Atsumu wondered if Kiyoomi knew just how godly his own power was in comparison to his own because he was caught forever in his spell.