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Shiemi was an adult. Rin was almost seventeen. Only a matter of weeks ago, everyone had celebrated a collective birthday. Somehow, Yukio Okumura had been left behind. In all fairness, he’d always been the youngest, but he felt it most strongly now. He’d been terrified of opening up to anyone, but he now understood that trust required a maturity he’d yet to develop. His brother had shown him that; of course, his brother had also spent the last half-a-year gaining perspective. Yukio didn’t envy him that.
Sitting at a campfire at the end of the world, eating familiar curry, he felt small. The pain wasn’t debilitating like it’d been before. There was a warmth of security in being surrounded by friends. They weren’t just his students anymore, however, there was one missing. He looked toward an adjacent campfire. Firelight flickered in Shura Kirigakure’s hair, catching the red and setting it aflame. She was listening to Osceola with a sincerity Yukio rarely saw in her. His staring must have irritated her, because she turned directly at him, blew a kiss, and resumed her conversation.
That was the Shura he knew, the one who pissed him off, who teased him relentlessly, who loved him in her own way.
There were different kinds of love, he knew. He knew that she’d yearned for Father Fujimoto with her entire being, soul and body. The love she had for Yukio was one of duty. She’d made a contract, of sorts, with a demon, of sorts if a clone counted, to protect his sons.
Yukio resumed spooning food into his mouth. One by one, people started turning in for the night, but he wasn’t ready. He’d needed the safety his brother provided. Rin knew his secrets, and despite that loved him unconditionally. Once again, that was an entirely different love from Shura’s.
Apparently, so was Shiemi’s. He was startled to hear about the mismatched signals she and Rin were sending each other. Those two were idiots. Everyone could tell they both were holding back. It was easy for Yukio to think that way. Love was easy to understand when reciprocated. Rin had gotten over the rejection because Shiemi had tact. She’d considered him seriously. Shura had just…
Yukio stood up from his seat when he saw her retire to her tent. There hadn’t been any alcohol with their food rations, so she was guaranteed sober. This might’ve been his only opportunity to speak with her. He waved away the remaining Exwires for the night and crossed the camp. Reaching her tent was far easier than entering it.
“Will you just get in here, already?” Shura ordered from behind the unzipped door flap.
Yukio got down on all fours and crawled in after her. The space was tight, only big enough for a sleeping bag, a lamp, and a heater. He peeled off his jacket, folded it, and placed it beside her boots.
“Sorry for intruding,” he said, more formally than intended.
Taking his lead, she yanked off her hoodie and threw it on top of his jacket. He wouldn’t be leaving soon it seemed. The tent was sweltering from the heater doing too efficient a job. Perhaps her ability to wear only a bikini top in frigid temperatures had to do with Hachiro. She’d never required warmth before.
“So what do I owe the pleasure, Four-Eyes?” she teased. Then she grabbed his elbow and jerked him closer instead of letting him squat barely inside the tent.
“I wanted to discuss your recent behavior.”
She rolled her eyes. “Be more specific than that.”
Sitting cross-legged now, the heels of his boots began cutting into his thigh and calf.
“Do you mind?” he asked before tugging off his footwear and placing them beside hers.
“Guess we’re making a night of it,” she responded, slipping herself in her sleeping bag, while leaving a sliver of space for him.
The tent was practically boiling and she was wearing only a bra and shorts. He was wearing too many layers to be comfortable squeezed up against another person. Quickly, he shirked off his dress shirt and pants before sliding into the sleeping bag and zipping it up. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen his underwear before. Though, at least he had the privilege of an undershirt this time. She’d actually seen him fully naked at the bathhouse, but he tried not to think about it.
“Now spill it. What’s going on?” she asked.
He rolled toward her, which was more difficult than anticipated. This camping gear was designed for solo usage, unlike the set given to Rin and him. Now he could see her eyes, and he could tell she was still in that pensive mood she’d been in earlier.
“What were you talking to Osceola about?”
“Life.”
“Give me more than that.”
“Is it really your business?”
“Everything concerning Rin is my business.”
“This has nothing to do with Rin.”
“Rin values your life, therefore it does. I don’t need you acting recklessly like you did in Aomori. We almost lost you for no goddamn reason.”
Yukio could feel her becoming tense.
“I was thinking about the same shit I told you on Christmas Eve. That I’ve spent so much of my life thinking that it’s ending. That I should never care about anyone. To absolutely never love anyone else. To form no attachments. And now that I have the chance to, I’m probably going to kick the bucket tomorrow.”
“I take it your husband-hunting isn’t working out?”
He desperately wanted to touch her. Not that their bodies weren’t pressed together; they were. Truly, he wanted to hold her and let her know that an attachment had long been formed. He wanted her to touch him back with intention. Just like she’d done under Hachiro’s control, he wanted to have her hand slide along his hip and her lips kiss his neck.
“How could it? I went to your party instead. And you’ve been keeping me very busy ever since,” she answered with a smile.
“Still could’ve been a success. Lightning was at the party,” he said while trying to keep a straight face.
She laughed her signature full-bellied laugh that involved throwing her head back. The movement caused the over-stuffed sleeping bag to writhe back and forth like an uncoordinated snake. They knocked over the lamp in the process. The light went with it; the tent walls remained dimly illuminated by the distant glow of campfires outside.
Yukio sucked in a deep breath and blew it away from her face.
“Lightning wasn’t the only option there. I’d…” he paused, unsure how to continue.
“Be good to me?”
“I was serious back then,” he said with more acidity than intended. This was the second time she’d made light of it.
“I know that,” she responded barely above a whisper. “I know that, OK?” she said a little more loudly, before squirming to face away. “How could I not know that? A high level demon like Hachiro would’ve never even considered a contract if you weren’t dead serious. So, don’t think that I don’t know. Because I do.”
He slipped his arms around her waist and tucked his face to her neck. When he inhaled he could smell battle-sweat caked into her skin. The scent was nostalgic from their days of training with his father. Just like the fried riceballs at dinner had tasted like his youth, her body smelled like his adolescence. She’d consumed so much of his life. Yet, it had taken the trip to Aomori to realize that he’d actually wanted more. He’d loved her, but hadn’t really known her.
It all amounted to nothing, because she’d essentially rejected him. She’d cried into his chest after she’d won her freedom. She’d held onto him longer than she had Rin. Their years together had culminated in her falling into his embrace and trusting that he’d keep her steady. But then, she’d immediately joked about his plea to Hachiro. She’d hadn’t even taken his earnest compliment about her seriously. He’d always thought she’d been beautiful. She would always be beautiful. Hachiro was a fool for thinking that age would ever diminish that.
Yukio knew not to listen to demons, and yet he’d done it anyway. He’d let Hachiro leech it out of him. He’d announced his insatiable urge to make love to Shura every chance he could until she fell pregnant with their child. He’d wanted to claim her as his, to marry her, to build a family. He’d offered her a future neither Hachiro nor his father ever could.
She’d ignored it, pretended it never happened, and that he’d never said any of those things. As she should have. No one ever wanted him. He was worthless. He would always fall second to Rin. Yukio was destined for failure and nothingness. Rin was warmth, but Yuki was the chill of a void.
“I love you,” he whispered. He searched for her hand and entangled his fingers with hers. “I wanted to say it, out loud, at least once.”
“You’re going to have plenty of chances later. I’ll keep you and the cram school kids safe,” she said, letting him down gently. She was reminding him that she saw him and the others equally. Protecting was a duty, not a desire.
“Turn around,” he urged her.
She slowly maneuvered until they were facing each other once more.
“I love you,” he repeated firmly.
“I didn’t mean right now. And I didn’t mean to me.” She closed her eyes to avoid looking at him. “Go to sleep, we need the rest.”
He was so used to her careless flirting with everyone. She was always saying as inappropriate a thing as possible just to get a rise. She’d never cared for rules. She’d even let Suguro and Rin get drunk during a mission and then shown zero remorse in her report. She’d never given a damn about anything or anyone, but she was strangely serious about this, about him. Then he realized the only reason she’d caught him looking at her during dinner, was because she must’ve been watching him too.
“Shura, I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
She let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his back. They held each other, warm body to warm body, flesh to flesh, blood racing beneath and reddening above at a quickening pace. Wetness wicked into the collar of his undershirt. He could feel her tears this time, unlike when they’d slid down his coat in Aomori. He rubbed at her shoulder blades, letting her weep silently. His fingers skidded over the band of her bra and continued down the length of her spine.
He was beginning to believe their types of love weren’t so different.