Chapter Text
Dew slides down the leaf it had settled against. The weight of that water causes its seat to dip until it tumbles onto the hard dirt below. A single, near-silent plop is made once it careens, a sound that would have gone completely unnoticed were the surroundings not silent. With no crickets singing their tunes beneath the hollow moon or foxes prowling through the underbrush. All is still save for the light steps trudging through an unmarked path.
The figure that stalks through the moonless night is haloed by the paper lamp he has slung over his shoulder, tied to the end of a long pole he loosely grips at the base. Its tender glow gives his pale hair and equally light kimono a ghostly aura. One that could easily be mistaken for a spirit should there be anyone around to spot him. Yet the vibrant red eyes attached to that mellow figure cannot spy even a mouse as they scan their surroundings. Only the looming shadows of the surrounding trees.
That unnatural silence has Kazuha resting his other wrist against the hilt of his blade. He would be holding onto it were it not for the box dangling between his fingers. Yet despite his alertness he is not at all worried for this silence means that he can hear any approaching danger miles before it reaches him.
A blue shine peels into the corner of Kazuha’s vision. He turns his head just enough to spot the floating flame that’s peeking out from behind a tree. A second appears behind it, followed by a third and a fourth flitting down from overhead. The small spirits dance around Kazuha curiously without daring to enter the light protecting him from the dark. A small huff escapes his lips. He carries on through the woods without paying them any mind.
It is the pluck of a string that has him faltering. Stopping mid-step at the same time the will-o-wisps slow down their canto. For a moment Kazuha wonders if he had imagined it only for it to echo through the air once again. A slow melody trembles through the forest, nervous in its gradual rise. The way it sways grows more confident with each step it takes.
Kazuha glances over in time to see the will-o-wisps flee. Their faint glows fades into the night out of his sight. The weight of his katana is heavy where it's strapped to his obi. He adjusts his hold on his pole before resuming his walk. The deeper he delves into these woods the louder that song becomes. The call of a siren that tempts any wayward travelers towards it. A call that Kazuha is heading straight towards.
The trees begin to grow more scarce. Unlit stone lanterns cracked with age guide Kazuha forward. He steps between them, stopping at the small structure they surround. A shrine whose innards stand barely as tall as him and its width reaching no farther than his elbow if he were to stretch his arm fully out.
Kazuha sets down the box he had been carrying at its base. He kneels down in front of it, legs tucked under themselves. Palms clasp together in front of the wanderer’s chest. His shoulder keeps his lantern's pole from sliding off of him and onto the cold ground. That ethereal song continues to play, sounding as if it is right beside Kazuha when he closes his eyes.
He does not know how long he sits there. When lost in prayer time slows into a crawl. The whispers of the wind that usually keep him company are drowned out by the shamisen calling out for prey. Once it stops Kazuha opens his eyes and lowers his hands. He pushes himself up into standing once again, careful not to lose hold of his lantern. He begins to head back the way he had come from yet stops halfway across the stone lanterns.
“It is disrespectful to so casually recline atop a shrine.” Kazuha’s voice flows out roughly. His throat is dry from the long trek and awkward from the solitary silence he’d held for hours. “If you are not careful then you may find yourself cursed.”
A snort answers his warning, soon accompanied by breathless giggles. A light and airy sound that Kazuha thinks is far more alluring than the song that had grown still. He turns his head back and up to the roof of the shrine. Where a figure that had been sitting in the dark with only the quiet shine of the stars to keep them company.
The edges of the glow from Kazuha’s lamp reveal a lithe and slender body swathed in a dark kimono. A white haori is draped over their shoulder so loosely that it's a wonder it manages to stay on. An almost comically large hat sits upon the other’s head shading their face from the light. The shamisen resting on their lap threatens to tumble down with the way their body shakes from their merriment.
The stranger raises their head enough to reveal the moons of their eyes. Blue hues deeper than the ocean beyond the shores. A wide grin spread across their cheeks that show off the point of their fangs. Kazuha’s fingers reach towards his blade. Those twin moons follow the motion of his hand along with the way they drop down to his side. A gesture that has the stranger tilting their head, making the bells hanging from their hat jingle softly.
“Says the guy skulking in the night while the moon hides.” A silken sound that pleasantly tickles his ears despite the mocking lilt to them. “If you want to pay respects there are better times to do it.”
“There are not.” Kazuha narrows his eyes. Keeping his own tone short and clipped. Laced with a warning that the other takes as an invitation.
They jump down from their perch, the shamisen is set down against the front of the shrine. Kazuha fully turns towards the other as they stalk toward him. This time he does wrap his fingers around the hilt of his katana. An action that does nothing to dissuade the spring in the stranger’s steps. They stop an arm's length away from him. The shortened distance allows Kazuha to note that he’s taller than the other by a handful of inches.
When they tilt up their head to look him straight in the eye Kazuha feels a bolt of lightning strikes his lungs. A beauty is the only apt way Kazuha can think to describe them- or rather him. With short, dark hair that barely reaches his ears framing a doll-like face. And those eyes that had appeared as moons reveal themselves to instead be the breadth of the starry sky. An endless sea that if he is not careful he will drown within.
As Kazuha is observing him, so too is the stranger taking in every detail of the wanderer that he can. Starting with the scarred fingers that tightly grip the end of a pole. Trailing up to the broad, muscular shoulders set against his collar. Stopping at the lone horn that protrudes out from Kazuha’s bangs, set just above his left eye. A wicked glint flits into his blue hues as he stares at that colorless horn.
“Just because you're an Oni doesn’t mean that spirits won’t whisk you away.” That intense gaze locks onto red ones. Unwavering and full of mischievous confidence despite the hold on a blade tightening.
“A spirit such as yourself?” Kazuha makes a point to step closer to him, further emphasizing the difference in their builds. If he so wished he could effortlessly wrap an arm around this stranger’s waist with room to spare. “I think my odds are favorable.”
“Bzzt, wrong!” A taunting tongue pokes out from between pink lips. Kazuha finds himself struck with the inexplicable urge to grab it. For better or worse it slips back in before he can decide. “Take another look idiot.”
Dainty fingers reach up to lift the oversized hat guarding its wearer. The shadows it cast recede. Without them, Kazuha can spot what was before hidden in their depths. A pair of small horns peeking out from his hair. Colored a stark blue that nearly blends in with those fine locks.
“It seems we are both far from home then.” Kazuha’s expression remains cool despite the surprise that courses through him. How rare to see another of his kind on this island.
“Rather bold of you to claim to have a home.” Those mocking eyes flick back up to that colorless horn. A bait meant to entice out a loose tongue.
“It was merely a figure of speech, or do you not know what those are?” A trap that Kazuha is not foolish enough to step into. Far too aware of the silence of the forest to dare lower his guard.
The stranger blinks as if uncertain if he heard the other Oni correctly. His hat falls back down to hide his horns when he lowers his arms. The Blue Oni flings his head back, laughter bellowing out from his chest. Accompanied by the jingling of bells to make its own music.
“Oh I like you.” There’s a shift in the air that Kazuha isn’t sure how to interpret. It’s not dangerous but it's not reassuring either. “It’s not often I get to meet a pretty boy with a sharp tongue.”
“I could say the same of you.” Kazuha allows himself to loosen his grip on his katana. His fingers go lax against its handle. “So rare is a beauty of your caliber that I’m surprised the gods have not locked you away.”
“I dare them to try.” It is only because the Blue Oni’s hair is so short that the colorless one manages to spot the red that blooms against his ears. “That is if they don’t mind losing their fingers.”
“I take it back. You will not be cursed, you are going to get beheaded at this rate. That is if they are in a good mood.” Kazuha can confidently say he’s never met someone so proudly sacrilegious before.
“Are you a theologist?” The question must pull a face out of him for the Blue Oni rolls his eyes before explaining. “You speak so confidently of the gods as if you understand them by heart.”
“One doesn’t need to be an expert to know that they can be petty when it comes to those that challenge their honor.” Kazuha’s scarred fingers begin to sting from how tightly he grasps his pole. An old wound that has a terrible habit of acting up when he least expects it to.
“You understand this yet you pray at one of their shrines.” It’s not a question. Or rather what is said aloud is not the question being asked.
“I have my reasons as I’m sure you have your own.” Kazuha turns away from the stranger. The shadow of the trees in front of him somehow feels more secure than this little shrine’s boundaries. “Speaking of, my business here is done. If you do not require anything from me then I shall be on my way.”
“Don’t follow any spirits on your way back.” The stranger waves him off without a care. Yet his words are quiet, somber even.
Kazuha tries his best not to think too deeply of it as he retraces his steps through the forest. When the shamisen starts up again something deep within him demands that he turns around, and return to that bewitching Oni’s side. Rather than listen to it he picks up his pace. That sorrowful melody grows quieter the further he goes yet its pull remains long after he stops being able to hear it.
Even after Kazuha awakens to the sun at its peak, a part of him can still hear it echoing in his ears. He replays that brief interaction over and over again in his head. By no means was that Blue Oni hostile towards him but Kazuha wouldn’t exactly say he was friendly either. If anything he was merely being playful with a hint of curiosity mixed in. Though there is not a single doubt in Kazuha’s mind that the stranger carries an air of danger around him. Like a distant stormcloud looming in the horizon and the threat of thunder being carried over the sea. Maybe it will come this way, maybe it will dissipate before it reaches the shores.
A sense of regret begins to settle into the Oni the more he ponders it. There is something about that stranger that fascinates him. Their exchange had been fun and had Kazuha not been so guarded at the time he would not have been so quick to leave. Yet he had. He had been frightened away not by the Blue Oni himself but by how taken he had been by that beautiful stranger in such a short amount of time. Kazuha wishes to see him again but at the same time fears what will happen if he does.
He finds his eyes darting around to peer at any other that enters his peripherals. Hoping to spy a large, brimmed hat adorned with hanging bells. While his ears listen carefully for their jingles. Kazuha tells himself again and again that if it is fated to be then they will encounter each other again. Yet his heart refuses to settle. A sense of anxious impatience latching on tight.
An agonizingly long week passes filled with odd jobs and wandering thoughts. Kazuha sits against the base of the massive sakura tree that guards the city’s entrance. A straw hat guards his head from the heat of the sun. The days have been especially hot as of late. Thankfully it won’t be much longer until Autumn rolls around and it couldn’t come soon enough. As much as Kazuha loves lazing in the sun he could do without having his whole body growing sticky with sweat.
A mewl has the wandering Oni peering to the side. A cat too small to be considered an adult but too big to be labeled a kitten paws at his knee. Kazuha runs his nails along the cat’s back. It happily raises its tail before flopping onto its side. This time when he tries to pet the cat it rolls over and latches its paws around his hand. Leaning up to bite those fingers that dare to touch it. Kazuha is undeterred by its roughness, switching targets to the cat’s belly instead. Not at all minding the way it roughly nips at his hand. It’s just playing and doesn’t yet understand how to be gentle.
The sun bearing down on Kazuha is whisked away by a hulking figure. He shoots a glare at the figure leering over him only to immediately soften it when he takes in a familiar face. A giant of a man with a shock of white hair that reaches past his shoulders and a pair of red horns protruding from his forehead.
“Yo! Kazuha, my man! Long time no see campadre.” Itto kneels down beside him, bringing down a hand onto the smaller Oni’s shoulder. The cat meanwhile flees from the scene.
“Hello to you as well.” Kazuha watches the young cat disappear down an alleyway. Such a shame to see it go so soon. He was quickly growing fond of having a little companion. “I’ve been hoping our paths would cross.”
“For real? Finally decided to join the one and Oni Arattaki Gang?” With a boisterous whoop, Itto slings his arm around Kazuha’s shoulder. Nearly sending them both careening towards the ground with the force of his excitement. “I knew you’d come around eventually.”
“No not- I have a favor to ask of you.” Kazuha nudges the larger Oni off of him. On any other day he wouldn’t mind the physical affection but it is far too hot right now. “I recall you mentioning to me once that you’d made friends with a Blue Oni.”
“If you want me to introduce you then that can be arranged in a snap.” Itto doesn’t at all mind his rejection. That or he’s too excited by the prospect of having two of his friends meet to notice it. Both are possible with him.
“I would prefer not to.” Kazuha is starting to wonder too late if this is actually a good idea or not. Especially considering he’s still not entirely sure if that encounter was real or some hallucination or even a Bake-Danuki playing a trick on him.
“Why not? Takuya is a cool guy.” The rejection manages to dampen the bigger Oni’s mood. “Sure he can have a stick up his ass at times but he’s nice.”
“You know how I feel about the tribes.” Kazuha’s eyes end up naturally drawn to the other’s red horns. Itto is the only other Oni that he’s spoken to since he began traveling. Well, and now that strange Blue Oni.
“Oh? Oh! Right, got it.” Itto doesn’t push any further. Though the reminder does serve to perplex him. “So why are you asking me about him then?”
“A few days ago I ran into a Blue Oni.” Itto starts choking on his own spit. Kazuha reaches over and pats his back. Once the bigger Oni calms down he continues. ”We spoke briefly and I was wondering if you could inquire about him to Takuya on my behalf.”
“Of course! That should go without saying.” Itto claws at his own scalp. The heat makes his thick hair dry. “Man, what the hell is a Blue Oni doing on Narukami?”
“That is what I’m hoping you can help me figure out. I don’t imagine he’ll be difficult to identify as he’s quite small.” To the point where Kazuha would’ve thought he is a child had they not spoken. The way that Blue Oni spoke and carried himself speaks of one who has witnessed a great many things.
“You're pretty tiny yourself you know.” Itto’s hand moves from his own head to Kazuha’s. Ruffling his thinner but equally pale locks.
“And he is even smaller than me.” Which is kind of funny to think about. Their kind are hulking giants and Kazuha was always considered a runt. He would never have believed that stranger is an Oni if he hadn’t seen his horns for himself.
Kazuha describes that tiny Oni to the best of his abilities, as well as his talent with a shamisen. Anything that could be used to help identify that mysterious figure. Not long after he finishes Itto’s friends- apologies, gang members call out to him. To which Kazuha shoos him away.
With his solitude returning he leans back against the tree, body growing lax and eyes closing. There he lies and listens to the sounds of people milling about around him. A few stray animals curiously approach the wandering Oni but none dare to touch him as the first cat had.
Kazuha’s eyes flutter open to the sight of a beach stretched out before him. The waves gently lap at the shores, the intensity of the sun starting to dip its toes into the horizon, the taste of salt against his tongue. It all feels so real. Yet he knows it is not because he is not alone. In the edge of his peripherals he can see another sitting beside him. A red kimono and wild, sandy hair is all he can make out.
Static fills Kazuha’s ears. He keeps his eyes locked forward. Fingers that have yet to be scarred burrow into the sand. The figure beside him stretches his arms above his head. Beads of sweat flow down Kazuha’s neck. The other says something, and those words are drowned under the pounding of his heart. A hand rests on his shoulder. Kazuha swallows down his erratic heart, turning to face his friend and-
He awakens with a start. The cat that had been laying on his lap jumps away at his sudden motion. Kazuha brings up a hand to his face, feeling how slick it had become. His hat had fallen off at some point. The sky burns a deep orange. Kazuha takes in a deep breath and holds it in his lungs. It burns when it leaves his lips, a testament to how long he kept it in.
People often ask Kazuha how he is. Most out of a sense of politeness when they recognize the Oni. It’s easy to give those people who are nothing more than acquaintances an answer. Then there are the handful that know him well. The few that know how his palm became scarred and how it still aches. It is so much harder to look those people in the eye and tell them that he is doing fine.