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Suga brushes strands of silver away from his face as he waits out the rain from his treetop perch. He ruffles the sleek black wings sprouting from his back but the humidity weighs his feathers down. Raijin-sama is restless, he muses as he watches the forest and the twinkling village nestled in the valley.
Then Suga notices movement and flies closer to have a look. There’s a child on the forest path—no, not a child, a young man, pushing through the underbrush, his heavy clothing soaked through. Suga watches as he wanders farther away from the village. "In this weather...?" he murmurs.
He glances at the sky before spreading his wings, gaining altitude until he looks over the whole forest. The man is starting to stumble in the rain, but Suga can see where the human needs to go. His magic reaches out to nudge the human towards shelter.
The rain gentles over the temple grounds and offers the human a temporary reprieve. Suga watches the human murmur a thankful prayer and smiles before flying away.
Then, the scenery wavers.
Outside the sun is shining as if it was never raining to begin with. The human is below with a small package in his hand and, Suga notes from atop the shrine’s torii, a quiver of arrows and a bow slung across his shoulder.
The package is placed on the altar and Suga knows that there are nikuman inside. In the next moment, Suga lands before the human, his outstretched wings casting a shadow over them both.
The human drops to his knees and bows.
"There is no need for you to prostrate yourself before me, Human," Suga murmurs. "I am a mere kotengu."
"If I may," the human says, raising his head. "There is nothing mere about you, Tengu-sama."
"Oh? What makes you say that?"
"Because I know it is you who watches over the forest and village, protecting us from harm," he says, his voice as steady as the strongest oak in the forest. "My life is owed to you."
"Why nikuman, then?" he asks, his eyes never leaving the bowman’s.
The tension leaves the bowman’s sturdy frame and there’s a warmth in his eyes that draws Suga in.
"I thought you might like a change," he replies. "And I like these better than peaches."
Suga smiles, pleased.
"What is your name, Human?"
"My name is—"
—Suga starts and blinks the sleep from his eyes. He brushes his shoulderblade, feeling the lingering weight of wings before it fades, leaving him unmistakably human and 10 minutes late for his first day of junior high.
→ ←
Uwamushi Junior High’s club fair took place last week, and every sports team was trying to gather new recruits. Suga's always enjoyed athletics but this new school doesn't have a badminton team, so he'll have to switch.
He searches the bulletin board, pausing on a colorful flyer. Kyudo Club, picturing a person in full practice uniform aiming a large, impressive bow.
Suga imagines himself in the practice uniform and hides his laughter. He can't deny the appeal of it; he thinks he’d look pretty cool in hakama, and kyudo stresses focus and calm, qualities Suga values already. He closes his eyes to imagine the tension of the bowstring, the whisper of feathers by his ear, the whistle of a fired arrow—
Icy dread shoots through Suga in an instant, and with a gasp his eyes open again. He’s stepped back unconsciously, his hand clutching the front of his shirt.
He takes a deep breath to steady himself. Just seeing the poster makes him feel panicked now, and his eyes skitter away. It’s weird, but he tends to have good instincts. Not kyudo, then. What else?
Suga skips over flyers for the track and soccer teams before he spots volleyball. He doesn't know much it, but like badminton the objective is to hit an object over a net, so he decides to give it a shot.
All it takes is one practice—one glimpse of an upperclassman leaping into the air as if on wings—to convince him. Volleyball it is.
Three years later, Suga stands in Karasuno's gym next to the most handsome boy he's ever seen.
"What is your name?" Suga asks. The words resonate in his head, and he feels an odd sense of deja vu—like he’s said this before, in a dream or half-faded memory.
The boy turns to him and smiles. "Sawamura Daichi," he answers, offering his hand for a shake.
Suga can't stop himself from smiling back as he grasps Daichi’s hand, warm against his own. He definitely chose the right sport, he thinks to himself, trying to fight back the blush that threatens to blossom across his cheeks.
→ ←
Thwack. Thwack.
The methodical sound of an arrow hitting its target is the kind of thing Suga’s supposed to live for. It’s soothing, the steady thwack as each arrow finds its mark and the way the air seems to still around the bowman. There’s something magical about it all (Suga supposes he would know best, being of magical origin himself) and he contents himself with watching the man send another arrow sailing into the target’s center. That’s three in a row, as easy as breathing.
Suga’s applause makes him look up. His face is obscured by the light refracting across his cheekbones, but Suga catches a wan smile, the hint of a red blush. "Sugawara," he calls.
"Hello to you too!" He glides to the ground with a graceful flutter of fabric and feathers. He turns back to his bowman with a crooked smile, hands linking behind his back. "Why don't we play a game?"
"A game?" The bowman asks, and Suga’s smile widens.
Then the scenery blurs and shakes.
Suga finds his back against a tree trunk, his silver hair a halo against the brown bark. The bowman stands in front of the shrine, an arrow nocked and his bow steady. He sounds uneasy when he speaks. "Suga, what if I miss?"
"You won’t miss! You’re here for a reason, aren’t you? I don’t give guidance to just any archer." Suga laughs and holds himself still. On his head is an apple, bright red with the oncoming fall, balanced on the silvery locks of his hair like a nest. He knows his bowman just needs a nudge. "Besides, if you hit me I won’t die. Archery is my domain; I’ll just pull the arrow back out again."
"You have a morbid sense of humor for such an angelic face," the bowman mutters. Warmth rises in Suga’s chest, spreading tingles down to his toes. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard as his eyes flutter shut.
"Trust me," he murmurs, and the arrow flies.
The dream blurs again—there’s a thwack of arrow against wood and the bowman’s half-terrified, half-dazed Suga—!!
Suga opens his eyes to find the bowman before him, his arm resting against the tree by his head, his fist wrapped around the arrow piercing the apple’s center. Suga breathes out, exhilarated, more alive than he’s felt in a century. He and the bowman smile at each other until the space between them seems to vanish.
Suga wakes with a smile on his face, wishing all his dreams were as pleasant.
→ ←
"Sugaaaaa."
Suga stumbles sideways, not expecting the playful shove that accompanies Daichi’s voice. "Whoa," Daichi says, sliding an arm around Suga’s waist to stop him from falling off the path. Suga blushes as he regains his footing, trying to ignore the way Daichi’s fingers squeeze his before he pulls them away.
Daichi clears his throat. "You okay there?"
"Ah, sorry," Suga says as he rubs the back of his neck. He sees Daichi take note of his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, and rushes to deflect his worry: "That practice killed me, how are you even walking?"
Daichi laughs. "It was pretty intense, but look at how much we’ve improved in the last three weeks. Just imagine if we keep this up."
Suga hums in agreement. "Your spikes today were pretty terrifying. I’m glad you’re on my side of the net!"
"They’d be nothing without a good toss." Daichi’s words make Suga’s face heat up.
They walk in silence for a few blocks, until Suga’s stomach decides to break the silence. "Oh hey," Daichi says as if just remembering something important, "I’ll buy you dinner tonight. To get you back for last week."
"Yessss." Suga raises both arms to the sky. "That’s perfect, because I think I could eat three times more than usual after today."
"My poor wallet. What have I done?" Daichi huffs a grave sigh. For some reason this makes Suga laugh so hard that he has to stop walking.
"At least we’re close," Suga says once he catches his breath. "And good thing, too, because I’m starv—" He takes a step forward but is pulled back by Daichi’s hand on his wrist.
"Ahh..." Daichi releases him, embarrassed. "Sorry, that was. Sorry."
Suga is too distracted by how cute Daichi is to catch whatever meaning hides in his mumbling. Then Daichi sets his shoulders and looks at Suga straight on. "Do you want to come over to watch a few matches after we eat?"
"Oh! Um..." Suga smiles. He knows the responsible answer: he’s tired and sore, and he’s got homework to finish before he can go to sleep and hope his dreams are peaceful this time, but Daichi is standing so close that Suga can smell the scent of his shower gel. "Sure," is the answer he gives, pleased by Daichi’s answering grin. "But let’s eat first."
Daichi blinks at that. "Right! Let’s go then. Think your legs can make it another two blocks?"
"Not sure," Suga says, falling in beside Daichi. "You might have to carry me."
Halfway through dinner, the tips of Daichi’s ears are still red.
By the end of the evening, Daichi’s convinced him to sleep over and he falls asleep on a futon beside Daichi’s bed, his smile suffused with happiness.
His dreams are anything but.
→ ←
"I'm sorry," Suga says. "I was praying for your victory..."
His bowman smiles and shakes his head. "As nice it would be to have an arrow with your feathers, you judged fairly. I'd rather that than give suggestion to anything more with a biased win." The bowman moves forward as if to touch Suga’s wings, but then stops. "In fact, perhaps I should head back before more rumors start."
Suga sighs. As they stand, he brushes his lips against the bowman's cheek. "Humans…" he grumbles.
"Even though you’re kissing one?" His bowman grins.
"Are you questioning a youkai’s decisions?" Suga asks, grinning back. They step outside of the temple to the forest, the setting sun casting everything in red.
They speak of non-consequential things as they walk, the bowman's fingers brushing against Suga’s own. The touch brings a contentedness Suga’s never known, as if some missing piece of him has found its proper place.
The bushes rustle, and they both stop when the bowman's calloused fingers clasp Suga’s wrist. Suga wonders if he should be taken aback by the brazen action instead of treasuring the comfortable heat of the bowman's skin against his own.
The rustling grows in volume before his bowman shakes his head, chuckling as a boar runs past them.
They linger there for a moment, the bowman’s hand sliding down to tangle his fingers with Suga’s, but it’s not long before there's more crashing noises in the distance.
"Perhaps you should return to the temple with me," Suga suggests. "It’s almost sunset, someone might be hunting—"
His companion shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I can't give any reason for the village to disrespect you. For myself, it's one thing. For you...it’s something I can’t accept."
He releases Suga’s hand and walks a few steps ahead. An impulse rises in Suga—Stop him, don’t— but it’s too late.
A familiar whistle reaches Suga’s ears, and his bowman staggers.
Suga launches himself forward, catching the bowman before he hits the ground. His eyes widen, horrified by the arrow jutting from the human’s chest—the shaft constructed of sacred bamboo and its sleek, jet-black fletchings crafted from the feathers of his own wings.
Suga drags his gaze up to see the offender. The archer, the winner of the evening’s competition, staggers forward. Suga’s expression darkens with contempt. He’s wasted Suga’s prize on a meaningless hunt, taken Suga’s gift and used it to rob him of his greatest treasure.
"Tengu-sama—I—"
Suga's wings snap open with a tempestuous gust of wind, kicking up leaves and petals. He bares his fangs as his nails sharpen into talons. With a deep screech he commands, "LEAVE."
Whether out of fear or common sense, the villager flees.
Suga’s fury fades as fear rises to take its place. His bowman's name falls from his lips as Suga cradles him in his arms. But his breaths are shallow and shuddering, and again Suga whispers, "Humans," despairing at their mortality.
For the first time in his long, long life, his cheeks are streaked with tears. "P-please," he stammers despite knowing its futility. "Please, stay with me."
His bowman’s lips attempt to curve into a smile. Suga gasps and seizes his hand, guilt swimming through him. This is his arrow. That is Suga’s arrow, he should have known better than to gift it to mortals. "Don't—don't, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
"Koushi—" A gasp of air.
Suga wraps his wings around them both, as if it will protect them from the inevitable. "It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—please, don't hate me—"
"Kou–nnn–shi...love you, I'd never..."
"Don't leave me now," he whispers, trying so hard not to sob.
"Geez, Koushi...you'll see me again, won't you?" His bowman's voice fades as, with the last of his strength, he reaches up to brush Suga’s tears from his cheeks. "You'll..." A shallow, quaking breath. "Find me again, right...?"
As if for the first time, Suga looks into his bowman's eyes, seeing the trust and comfort there. Then he watches that fade, too.
"Of course," Suga answers. "Of course I—"
His voice breaks when his bowman’s eyes close. His sharp ears catch a final breath, and then the silence of his bowman’s still heart.
His talons clutch the bloodied fabric as Suga bends over his bowman’s chest, trying to hold onto whatever last bit of his scent that he can. Sobs tear from his throat, his voice calling his bowman’s name over and over again like a prayer.
"Please," Suga whispers, his voice hoarse. "Please return him."
"Impossible." Datsue-ba shakes her head. "He has crossed the bridge. You will not see him again in this lifetime."
Suga closes his eyes. He expects to feel pain, but there is nothing left inside of him except an aching hollowness.
"Unless—"
Suga’s head lifts again, pulled by the thread of hope her words contain.
"—You wait for him to be reborn. It will not be for centuries."
He shakes his head. Time once meant nothing to Suga, but now the thought of being without his bowman for so long makes his whole body shake. "I cannot wait that long, Obaa-sama—"
"What is this? It is a mere human! You are as a god to them!"
"As he is a god to me, please, I cannot accept that. Whatever you want, I will give. My feathers, for a fan? My robes—"
Suga stops, thinking hard, and then kneels to prostrate himself on the floor. "I will cross the bridge to wait. You may keep my robes to weigh, anything you desire."
For a moment, Datsue-ba is silent. Her next words are sad, but firm.
"Your feathers. Your robes. Your soul. These will be kept here until you and the human are reborn. But you will be a youkai no longer. You will be a human, with a human’s lifespan."
The word human rings in Suga's ears, and he goes so far as to press his nose to the ground. "I accept," he whispers.
"…Sugawara Koushi. Are you sure?"
He’ll never fly again, and leave the forest that is all he’s ever known—to live as his bowman does, moving together from life to life.
It’s a fair trade.
"Yes."
Suga feels a sudden chill and lightness as his feathers float to the floor. He’s never before noticed their weight, and with them go his responsibilities. With his robes go his status. Then there's a sharp pull within him, and pain so intense he can’t even scream.
When he can see again, Datsue-ba holds a flame in her palm. It's his soul, his payment and sacrifice to see his bowman—his Daichi again.
"It is done," Datsue-ba intones.
Suga’s chest burns with emptiness. He’s gasping for air, but he’s smiling.
→ ←
"—Suga! Suga!"
The summer heat could choke him. But there's something familiar too: comfortable arms holding him, a low voice by his ear.
Unthinking, Suga buries his neck in Daichi's shoulder and sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm—if I hadn't—the arrow—"
"Shh, Suga, it was just a dream," Daichi murmurs, running a hand through Suga's hair. He sounds scared, but confident. Daichi swallows, and when he speaks again his voice is firmer. "I'm right here. You're fine."
For a while the only sounds in the room are Suga's muffled cries, but eventually it subsides. Suga breathes, and then lifts his head. "I ruined your shirt," he mumbles, his voice thick and shaky from crying.
Daichi shrugs. "It’s nothing." There's a beat of silence, and then he gives a dry chuckle. "You weren't kidding about having trouble sleeping, were you?"
Being reminded of the dream makes Suga shudder, his fingers gripping Daichi’s shirt tighter. "N-no."
Daichi hums, shifting Suga in his arms to make himself more comfortable. "I'm glad I got you to stay over, then. How long have you been having nightmares?"
Suga thinks quietly. He's avoided talking about this, thinking that the dreams were nothing and would eventually fade. They haven’t, but Daichi is so close and so warm, a kind of comfort he’s never known before.
Daichi's been with him through everything. Suga can trust him with this.
"S-since middle school," he admits, relaxing and pulling away until he can look Daichi in the eye. Now that he's decided to confess, he wants to do it properly. Suga's hands linger in Daichi's grip, in no hurry to remove them.
"It's always the same thing," he begins. "Well, not the same, but—I'm a...I'm not human, I'm a youkai, with wings. A Karasu-tengu. And every time there's a—bowman, with me."
"A bowman?"
"He's a human, and we talk, and..." Suga's starting to blush; admitting this out loud is embarrassing. "I care about him a lot. But I never catch his name, or see his face, a-and then he dies and it's my fault—"
"Hey, hey." Daichi tugs on his hands, catching Suga's attention before he can start crying again. "It's just a dream, right? It's not real."
Suga shakes his head immediately. "No." It makes no sense, but he knows that he’s speaking the truth. "It's real."
Suga doesn't need light to see the disbelief on Daichi’s face. Daichi starts to shift away and Suga panics, plucking at his sleeves.
"S-sorry," Suga stammers. "Just..."
"It's okay," Daichi says, seeming to know what Suga means. "Hey, let's move to my bed, it'll be more comfortable."
Suga soon finds himself snuggled against Daichi, their ankles bumping together. He can't imagine how red he is, but then he hears Daichi clear his throat and feels relieved that he's not the only embarrassed one. "M-more comfortable, right?" Daichi asks loudly.
"Shh, your parents! ...I-it’s better, yeah."
Daichi slings an arm around Suga's waist and there's silence for a moment. Then Daichi chuckles quietly and says, "I have to admit I'm kind of jealous."
"Jealous?" Suga echoes. “Of nightmares?!”
"Of the guy," Daichi clarifies. "The bowman. Whatever."
Suga thinks of the bowman's blood streaming across his hands as he screams. "There's nothing to be jealous about," he says, voice brittle.
"Yeah, well," he says. His voice is light. "You said you cared about him—"
Suga goes still.
"—and I guess...I just wish it was me instead." The end of his sentence is a mumble, and Daichi buries his face in the pillow.
Suga’s mind races. The last moments of the dream come back to him—the hollow feeling in his chest, the name that bubbled out of his mouth.
"Daichi," he whispers. Daichi grunts to indicate he's listening. Suga continues, "What if it is you?"
"What are you talking about?"
Suga rolls over to grab Daichi's face. Daichi makes a startled noise but Suga continues, "What if the bowman, the one I've been dreaming about all this time—what if it was you?"
"What do y—?" Daichi starts, just as Suga admits, "I love you."
The following silence is thunderous.
"I l-love you both, so...why wouldn't you be the same?" His voice is trembling but he's never been more sure of anything. "What if you're the one I've been looking for?"
Daichi looks at him, his expression blank at first. After a moment, it turns into a coy smile. "Suga, are you telling me that I'm the man of your dreams?"
Suga groans loudly and hits Daichi with a pillow. Daichi holds him tight in his arms to make him stop, squeezing him close, and Suga can feel Daichi’s unspoken happiness in the gesture.
→ ←
Epilogue:
Suga wakes up with Daichi’s weight solid against him. It’s dark, and the rumble of the bus creates a still atmosphere. He holds his breath and peeks around the rest of the bus to confirm that everyone else is asleep.
Daichi stirs, giving Suga a sleepy smile. Suga can’t help himself, leaning forward to brush his lips against Daichi’s. It’s a fleeting, happy gesture.
"You okay?" Daichi whispers.
"Mhmm." Suga tucks his head under Daichi’s chin, feeling a hand rest warm and solid on his back. Daichi’s breathing soon evens out, lulling Suga back to sleep for the rest of the journey.
The team soon finishes its post-game routine when they arrive back at Karasuno, leaving Suga and Daichi to walk home together in the dark. Their footsteps echo in the quiet, the rhythm broken by Suga’s wide, sleepy yawns.
Daichi pauses and picks up a black feather.
"Woah, its huge," he marvels, handing the feather to Suga.
Suga takes it, watching the moonlight bend along its sleek lines. On impulse, Suga opens his gym bag and places the feather inside. Maybe it will bring them luck.
Daichi rests an arm around Suga’s shoulders as he zips his bag up. "Can you sleep over tonight?"
"Yeah, I told my mom I wouldn’t be home until tomorrow afternoon." Suga’s grin is impish, pleased with his own good planning.
Daichi leans over to kiss Suga on the cheek. "You know, I wish I could wake up with you every morning."
Suga groans. "Daichi, you’re the worst. That’s so—" Daichi’s goofy grin takes the complaints from Suga’s mouth. He imagines Daichi’s sleeping face in the near light of morning and he can’t stop himself from smiling back.
He sighs. "I wish that too, you know? I really do."
Daichi pulls him closer. "It’s a good goal to work towards."
Suga couldn’t agree more.