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Weeks had passed, in silence. Yushiro frowned heavily, heart breaking and burning as he watched her dim back down once again- her voice growing quiet and her eyes growing soft; like lichen, like death. he kept watch, long after she fell asleep many times- watching for royal violet and blackauburn hair. Watched for a sign he was coming back- how he hated the strange man who wandered into their lives, who left crushed rosepetals over Lady Tamayo's clavicle and shoulders. How he reeked of her perfume when he left.
... But he made her smile; made her smile in a way he knew, deep down, he'd never be able to do. And so- he watches. He watches for the bloodsoaked samurai and listens for the sound of a swordsheath rattling with his steps.
Weeks had passed.
Tamayo rose to her feet, sunset having passed enough for her to be safe, "...I will be gone for the evening."
"Is that safe, my Lady?", he asks, his young voice light in the gloom of their home, "Are you sure gathering can wait, that we can't simply purchase what we need-"
"The quality would be questionable at best.", she says softly, her smile blank even as she pretends, "Do not worry. Keep watch over our home, Yushiro. I'll return before dawn."
"... Which direction are you heading, my Lady. Just in case.", he said sternly, near-canine protectiveness in his eyes.
"To the north, where the overgrowth is thickest.", she said, her smile unwavering. She wrapped her hair, a slip under only one layer of clothing due to the warmth and humidity of the night, and slid her sandals on with a delicate hand against the wall, "Should... should anyone need me."
They both heard the words unsaid.
He nods, with a sigh, "...My Lady, he. He may yet come to see you- perhaps he was. Accosted, somehow."
"Perhaps. But also... perhaps not. Swordsmen are fickle at best; they keep their hearts well within their chests, some within their weapons- amusement and love are one and the same, and fade just as fast."
Oh, he hated her words, how they weighed in the air. When that damned samurai returned Yushiro decided he would take at least one hard swing at least. Draw a drop of blood, at the VERY least, for the way her heart seemed to fall out and crash upon the floor soundlessly.
"Be safe, My Lady."
"I will, Yushiro. You do as well."
He watched her go, leaning against the doorframe and watching until too-sharp hearing no longer heard the scuff and shuffle of her shoes and the basket at her hip. the moon begins to rise.
His steps trudge. Tired, worn, they trudge onwards; he had been travelling for three days. He could not give an clue of where he went; Muzan was more foolish than the woman who controlled the lair, convinced that loyalty could never shake or shiver as though his underlings hadn't been acquired by breaking that very thing into shards. He scoffs to himself, leaning back just a little until his spine creaked and eased some tension. A familiar gate, a familiar silhouette, and an open door.
He took one step through after shuffling to the entry and removing his shoes when he heard it. He ducked and turned, catching the wrist attached to the fist that had aimed for his cheek. He squeezed viciously, until bones rattled, and Yushiro glared down at him with hatred as pure as the white of snowdrop petals.
"Wicked man you are.", he snapped, "I owed you at least one hit."
"Where is she."
Yushiro yanks on his arm, and it is released without a fight as the baneful swordsman straightens, "...I will ask again. Where is she?"
"Out to the north, where humans don't go. Gathering herbs and ingredients and the like- she insists on it, untrusting of vendors even after all this time. No doubt she's near the creek she found a few months ago."
Kokushibo nods, turning to slide sandals back on and head out with intent- something grabs his kimono sleeve.
He looks over his shoulder, seeing the pained but angry face of the young man who guards their Lady.
"...You will apologize to her."
"...I will, yes."
"She... She missed you."
Something... softens, in his chest. A young man with a heavy burden, always at the side of beauty and stretching himself thin when he needs to to keep her steady when he worries she cannot-
Hair like his, eyes too soft. Silent, silent, never speaks and always at her left side, who is it where is his name now-
Kokushibo blinks three of six, and reaches his hand out to rest it on top of Yushiro's head. He ruffles the younger one's hair, and lets his face show an almost imperceptible smile.
"You did well. Yushiro. Keeping her safe. And happy."
Yushiro freezes solid, blinking wildly for a moment before ducking away with a huff, "Yes, well. I. I would do anything for her, y'know."
"I do."
And with that, he sets out, refined sense of smell seeking out the dying trail of her perfume. Lilies, and jasmine, and lavender; soft linen.
He is away like a shadow, like the ghost of a feared memory.
The green is comforting. It smells sweet, like magnolia and silence, and the loam rustles under his steps as he searches. There is no smell of human here- no stink of a life limited by time and other silly things he has long since abandoned, just the smells of old growth and new blossoms and he breathes in deep; lilies, jasmine. His steps hurry faster, deeper into the tree growth and smatterings of still rising moonlight and the sound of water bubbling. Lilies, jasmine. He follows steps faster and quieter as he does and his balance precariously practiced when the terrain becomes rockier, when moss and damp threaten his steadiness but only a little, only enough to make him aware.
She is by the water; She is by the water and laughing to herself. A basket close by and full of things that smell sweet and bitter in equal measure and her bare legs dangle in the water- barely waist deep at best. She leans back on her hands, staring up at the rising moon. He watches, he watches like he did the first time. Like so many times after that. He hides in the shadows and barely breathes and he watches the wrap on her hair come free and ravenwing locks uncoil like serpents down her back to land gently against the soft soil and leaflitter and stones. it had grown, since the first time.
She was... beautiful.
She looked around, her eyes conniving and careful as she did, and pulled her legs from the water to stand. He rested a hand against a treetrunk, the bark rough against his palm and he swore his skin burned like the sun caressed it. He moves, just slightly, just enough for her to pause like a deer in relief; her head cocked slightly and then her outer layer of clothing slides down. The thin silken slip underneath hides truly nothing in the light; made sheer by the moon and the angle and he swallows the growl rising in his chest as all six eyes widen like a peeping tom- As if his hands hadn't felt every centimeter of her body by now, as if tongue and teeth haven't left marks anywhere he could reach-
But so have His.
She laughs to the moon, and takes a few steps back before giving a run; she leaps into the water with barely a splash before ducking under it for only a moment. She.. plays, a fox among sparrows made of pearl-pale droplets. She twirls just enough to lose her balance and fall to the side and the ripples reflect the moon when she swims. Small strokes, nothing grandiose or particularly well practiced or fast.
And then she is walking out of the water, wringing out her hair and giggling to herself. She stands, the water to her knees and her hair coiled in her hands as she squeezes out the cool water and squints at the shadows.
"...Who's there?", she calls out, sweetly, too sweetly, a few claw-like nails against the underside of her arm in readiness.
"Tamayo.", he answers, slinking forward, "...I am sorry I was delayed- you know how the self-anointed one can be."
"Michikatsu.", she says, the way she says his name is careful and calm and quiet; he feels the place his heart once was grow warm.
"...I admit, I was. Watching you. Again."
"You do that frequently.", she muses, taking a few more steps out of the water, "...I waited. For days. Weeks."
"I could not contact you.", he admits.
"Mm.", is her answer, pale lips pursed lightly, "...I appreciate you asking my forgiveness."
He blinks two of his six, then narrows all of them, "... You are plotting something, Tamayo."
"Simply a little.. game.", she says, something almost giddy in her voice as she steps free of the water and he tries to hold back his voice but fails, the baritone rumble echoing from behind his ribs and lighting her eyes like a spark of hellfire and her hands forgo wringing out her hair to let it settle in a heavy bundle, hanging over one breast as she stands clad in nothing but moonwater and sheer silk.
"...If you can catch me, Kokushibo- Michikatsu, if you can catch me, you'll earn my forever forgiveness.", she murmured, knowing he would hear her, "Chase me, catch me, keep me like He never did or could- and you'll live in the comforting light of my grace."
"Tamayo, that would be dangerous.", he warned, his voice dark but not scolding; he did not warn of what lived in the overgrowth and darkness- they both knew they were infinitely more dangerous than any creature who dwelled out this far, "You should not tempt beasts."
"Are you afraid?", she muses, her laugh like crystal and his hands flex with something primal forcing the motion, "Do you think you will not catch me?"
"...I will not apologize for what may happen.", he says, his voice smooth and without threat, his eyes now lidded and bright as he proverbially bites at the bait, "...You have until the count of three before I give chase, Tamayo."
With a laugh like a nymph, like a ghost maiden, she is off. He removes his weapon, his kimono, and the coverings of his feet to stand bare to the waist in the loam. And then he moves with the speed you only see in nightmares.
Lilies, and jasmine. The sweetness of clear water. The softness of carefully washed silk. His jaw hangs slack to taste the air and his eyes are bright. The air prickles over his skin and he moves with the lithe grace of mountain lions and the ancient stories; creeping over and through undergrowth as he follows the sound of laughter and the delight of lilies and loam. She turns, smiling like a cat that festered with its own schemes and her hair wild; he watches as she reaches up onto a branch, plucking a half open bloom and tucking it behind her ear.
"You found me, Michikatsu.", she coos, letting her eyes glimmer with promise and plea as part of the still wet slip slides over her creek-dewed shoulder to rest on her arm, "Now- catch me, samurai. And keep me, if you can."
'Want me.', goes unsaid, 'Prove it.' does not need to be stated.
He growls, she cackles with a raven's voice, and she darts to the side and dodges him almost easily before flickering away into the growth like whitetail, once again like a ghost. He pursues, licking his lips as his eyes widen and pupils blow wide like a tiger on the prowl. They chase, back and forth- her laughter, his murmur, cracked twigs and scattered leaves and deeper into the darkness they go. The lion, the lamb. The fox and the hellhound.
Her steps are light and quick- her hair ripples on the wind made as she runs like she couldn't amongst the social classes, she runs like freedom, she runs like longing; she runs the way the moon runs amongst the stars, leaping in faith and joy in equal measure and relishing the hard thud of landing so surely. She turns, eventually, with a laugh; after clearing several feet and expecting Michikatsu to have been hot on her heels but seeing nothing. A soft sound of curiosity, a narrowing of her eyes and tilting of her head as she listened.
Hot hands grab her; a hungry satyr, a wayward demigod. An arm over her chest, the other around her thighs and she squeals when she's lifted easily- fangs nip her neck and she groans before she turns her head and the kiss is messy and hungry and feral- and then she writhes and bites hard on his bare arm until blood trickles and he snarls when he frees her and she's off again, pausing long enough to glance back with wild eyes to watch him brace for speed once again.
The chase grows wilder, more desperate and hungry and she laughs like she's lost her mind knowing he'll follow the sound like a man possessed. She breathes far too quick now, a heart she thought dead so slowly did it beat thudding behind her birdcage ribs. Flowerpetals decorate her hair from her zephyrsteps and she finally slows to a stop, turning to scan the area for anyone following. She glances up, smug- but sees nothing but the usual shadows of tree branches and moonlight.
Eyes open above her, vicious and hungry and dark as the pits of hell. She takes one step, then another; she sighs, crossing her arms.
"...I must have lost him. Curse my cleverness."
"I have chased far worse than a giggling maiden."
She stops like a dead clock; the tick of her heart as a soft thud sounds behind her and an arm goes around her with ease. She feels the growl more than she hears it-
"I told you not to tempt beasts.", he hisses- burying his face in her neck as he lifts her just enough that she no longer touches the ground. She gasps softly, writhing against his hold as he nearly purrs against her skin, his grip almost painfully tight before his hand curls into the silk of the nearly dry slip and tugged once in warning- a wordless inquiry and she laughed; turning her head to kiss just under his chin.
The sound of silk tearing made her thighs press tightly together- cool night air brushing over an exposed breast before his fingernails chased the sensation and she sighed softly. Her legs hung and shivered from the contact as he held her aloft with one arm now, nipped at her ear before his desire-roughed voice sounded softly near it.
"Do you still want to run, beloved."
A weak noise, the petname making her face burn in a sudden blush and he laughs wickedly.
"Do you still wish to be chased, dear one. Or have I caught you, will I keep you."
She wriggled again, back arching and her struggles genuine but without any intent behind them and they both knew it as he took a step back before dropping down to hold her in his lap- her back to his bare chest and she gasped at the sting of skin on skin after the night air had been whipping a frenzy from her running. An arm around her waist now holding her tight and close while a hand rested over her pale throat and she tilted her head back to allow it- allow the gentle pressure of a careful squeeze as lips pressed against her wind-loved skin and her legs parted as her hips rocked. She heard him breathe deep; she heard the low growl. Her hands grabbed at the arm around her waist- she gave another struggle; she felt a tongue drag over her pulse and gasped.
"Have I kept you, lovely one."
She nods weakly, going limp against him and feeling heat build upon heat.
"Good, Tamayo.", he purrs, "We must away, for safety."
"Oh?", she hums softly, pressing against him and letting herself drink in the warmth with a sigh, "And why should we do that, hm?"
"Because my plans for you will last far longer than the rest of the night."
The weight of the words pull at her stomach, setting fires along her nerves and she shivers as the arm around her waist loosened; slipping away just enough for them both to finally stand. She glanced over to him, watching him shake his head to free any debris from the heavy tail of his hair and she took her chance- she darted once again but like shadow, like nightmares he caught her again- a hand tangled in her hair now and a stern tug making her voice sound out into the darkness.
"Do not make me carry you home over a shoulder, Tamayo.", he warned.
She shivered. Two of his eyes twitched in a way that made her know he was amused.
"...You are testing me."
"I am a strong-willed woman at the worst of times, it seems.", she cooed, his hand releasing her hair and then she yelped. And an arm over the back of her knees holding her in place and she was, indeed over his shoulder. She slapped at his back a few times, even grabbing at his ponytail and tugging once with a playful frown and all he did was laugh from the bottom of his chest.
"You chose your fate, pretty one."
"Crude man you are."
"You've much to discover tonight, it seems."
"Full of promises aren't yOU!"
The strike to her backside was loud. Her feet kicked a few times before giving in to her fate with a huff- but her smile had yet to fade.
Yushiro had been comfortably asleep, dozing off near the door to the garden with it half open and secure in the knowledge that sunlight wouldn't reach far enough in until supper time. A stirring outside, however, woke him from his slumber and he opened one eye blearily, then the other- and then got to his feet with an expression of exhaustion that would rival a tired parent. Tamayo, at least, had the presence of mind to blush vibrantly and cover her face with a hand as the gate clicked. Michikatsu turned on his heel to continue in- only to be met with a deadpan expression.
"I take it your apology went well, samurai.", he said flatly with crossed arms.
"It did. I plan to continue it."
"...How someone can be so formal and yet so disgustingly vulgar is beyond me.", sighed Yushiro, "I'll go draw a bath- gives me time to stuff my ears with GAUZE."
"Thank you- and, preemptively, I am sorry."
"You apologizing makes it worse!", said Yushiro in a near sing song as he retreated further into the home that Michikatsu entered before he set Tamayo on her feet- the basket with their clothing items folded neatly in it also placed down.
Tamayo sighed as her cheeks burned from her still present blush, smoothing her tattered and torn slip as though that would help the situation before sword calloused fingers tilted her face to meet Michikatsu's gaze- he kissed her again, this time the contact burning hot and gentle and she reached up to grab his shoulders as her knees went weak.
"I missed you.", he whispered, his words simple yet heavy with honesty, with meaning.
"I missed you as well.", she answered, once again feeling feathers choking her words, skylarks and housemartins desperate to escape her chest cavity, "I was afraid you wouldn't... wouldn't come back."
'To me.'
"I will always return, I believe."
'I will always come home.'
"...Don't leave, anymore.", she whispered, knowing it was a pipedream.
He looked down.
"...Perhaps one day I won't have to."