Archive of Our Own

Kunikuzushi's day starts with him tripping over a knotty root and very nearly eating a faceful of dirt, and that's how he knows it will be a bad day. He barely steadies himself with a flap of his wings, turning around to glare at the leaves of the great maple tree. "How many times do I have to tell you to watch your roots?"

The leaves quiver, and a face peeks out from behind them. If it weren't for the white shock of his hair, his tan skin and red eyes would have made him nearly impossible to spot amidst the ember-colored leaves. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about them," Momiji replies calmly, his voice akin to rustling treetops in the breeze. "Not only is moving my roots quite taxing, but I do need both sustenance and stability. It would be remiss of me if I sacrificed my well-being for the sake of a young fae who has not yet learned to watch his step."

"You do realize I am older than you."

A quirk of Momiji's eyebrow. "You do not act like it."

With an affronted scoff, Kunikuzushi pushes off the ground and reaches Momiji's branch in the space of a heartbeat. His thin wings flitter as he hovers in place to pull the leaves away, uncovering the body of his arch-nemesis. As always, he's lounging on his favorite branch with his back resting against the trunk and the face of a man who has not a single care in the world. He only spares Kunikuzushi a wry smile and a wave of his hand, and there's something teasing about it that makes Kunikuzushi's wings twitch in irritation.

Kunikuzushi lands with far more weight than his body possesses, and Momiji flinches when the branch creaks. "Ow," he mutters, and the crease between his eyebrows only grows when Kunikuzushi reaches forward and summons a weak shock of electricity as he jabs a finger into Momiji's cheek. "Ow!"

Kunikuzushi draws back, smirking in satisfaction at the dramatic way in which Momiji is rubbing his cheek. "That's what you get for being an ass."

Momiji has the audacity to pout at him like a brooding child, despite being several decades into adulthood. "You are so mean."

"I wouldn't have to be if you learned your lesson."

"My lesson being?"

Spreading his hands and wriggling his fingers while adopting the tone of a grand sage imparting his wisdom, Kunikuzushi says, "Don't be a dick."

"I am only matching your energy," Momiji replies with a sharp grin. "If that makes me a dick, I fear I have terrible news for you."

Kunikuzushi throws himself at him, then, but Momiji clearly saw it coming: his calloused hands cup Kunikuzushi's cheeks, while his knees trap Kunikuzushi's legs against the branch. There's a small lull during which Kunikuzushi could fight back, but he doesn't, and so Momiji crashes their lips together. Despite his irritation Kunikuzushi is quick to reciprocate, meeting the languid movements of Momiji's lips with a few nicks of his teeth.

Okay, so he makes out with his arch-nemesis sometimes, sue him. Loneliness can get to a person.

To his chagrin, it isn't long before he's being pulled into Momiji's lap. He huffs, because he has an image to maintain, but he lets Momiji's hands land on his hips and he sinks his own fingers in Momiji's snowy hair. He holds him firmly in place as he claims his mouth, his tongue running over teeth and pressing against every little crevice he can find, and while he's sure most people would have found it too aggressive Momiji only laughs and opens his mouth further.

Kunikuzushi draws back to breathe at some point, and Momiji immediately takes advantage of it. He presses featherlight kisses all over his face — his brow, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. One is placed on his lips, and Kunikuzushi can't help but chase after him when Momiji draws back. "C'mere..."

Momiji laughs and lets him close the distance. The next kiss has them both losing all perception of time, tongues dragging together and soft sighs escaping their lips. "Up for something more?" Momiji murmurs when they stop to catch their breath, and while every single cell in Kunikuzushi's body shrieks yes the pause is enough for him to remember himself. He draws back and turns away, haughtily wiping his lips with the back of his hand. It makes Momiji whine playfully as he asks, "Is that a no?"

"That is a no," Kunikuzushi confirms with a cutting smirk. He tries to move backwards onto the branch, and Momiji's hands resist only for a moment before reluctantly letting him go. "I'm still mad at you, my dear Momiji."

Momiji's lips quirk into a tender and knowing smile. "Careful. You're dangerously close to lying."

"...Tsk."

Momiji laughs, and Kunikuzushi isn't quite sure when that sound went from being annoying to feeling like a warm caress to his cheek.

The first time he heard it, he was furious. He had finally found a nice little spot to settle down after who knows how many years of wandering; and although the maple tree wasn't really that impressive other than for its larger-than-average size, the combination of those crimson leaves and the pond they reflected themselves into was pleasant enough for Kunikuzushi to decide that yes, this would do for a new home.

And even when he heard a sound he would grow very well acquainted with — the sharp yet melodic whistling of air against a leaf — and thus learned that the maple tree's unusual size was due to the nymph inhabiting it... well, by then he was too fixed on his choice to leave. And maybe, maybe they could have coexisted more peacefully — but after he tried to get rid of the nymph with his usual "may I have your name?" and he was completely sidestepped when "Momiji" answered with nothing more than a nickname and a laugh, well... that was when he declared war, because one does not simply evade a fae. Especially not one as powerful as Kunikuzushi.

He really should have done something about this insolent spirit a long time ago — there's plenty of ways to get rid of someone that don't include using their true name. But loneliness really does get to a person. So even though Momiji can be irritating, and way too smug for his own good, and infuriatingly cute... well, he's better than nothing.

...Actually, to be entirely honest... he may be the closest thing to a true companion Kunikuzushi has ever had, and isn't that a little pathetic?

Kunikuzushi sighs to himself, idly kicking his bare feet through the air. Momiji spares him a little smile, but it's clear that he's distracted — his eyes are distant and just a little unfocused, clouded by thoughts that Kunikuzushi will never be privy to. Not unless Momiji decides to tell him, of course, but he's the secretive type, and prodding him rarely yields results. Kunikuzushi could take a peek into his mind but, well... Momiji didn't appreciate that specific power of his the first and only time he used it, and he'd really rather not upset him over something so trivial. So, he stays silent.

"Kunikuzushi?"

Ah, maybe he'll actually talk after all. Still, Kunikuzushi can't help but frown when he realizes that Momiji's voice has changed: there is no trace of the teasing fondness of their previous conversation, as it has been replaced by something serious and solemn. Kunikuzushi could count the times he's heard him talk like that on the fingers of a single hand. "What?" he asks cautiously, straightening his back.

Momiji hesitates before speaking, his eyes wandering for a moment more before settling on Kunikuzushi's once again. "Is it true that... if you give a fae your true name, they'll be able to track you down wherever you go?"

"...Among other things, yes." Kunikuzushi tightens his grip on the bark below him, because while he has no idea why Momiji would ask such a thing the gravity in his voice gives him pause. "Where are you going with this?"

"Would they even be able to follow someone into their next life?"

"Huh? I can't say I've ever heard of something like that. Perhaps?" Kunikuzushi tilts his head to the side, taking a moment to consider the logistics of it. It's true that a person's essence — and thus their true name — follows them through reincarnation, but to be able to hold on to that thread even after it's been severed by death... "Even assuming it's actually possible, it certainly wouldn't be easy," he concludes out loud.

There's a glimmer in Momiji's eyes. A glimmer of something akin to hope. "You're powerful. Would you be able to do it?"

Suddenly, realization strikes. Kunikuzushi leans forward, his heart jumping straight to his throat. He doesn't like where this is going. He doesn't like it one bit. "Momiji–"

"I don't have a very long time left, you know." Momiji's tone, although apparently relaxed, carries with it an undercurrent of sorrow that makes ice-cold fear rush through Kunikuzushi's veins. "I'm well past my prime."

Kunikuzushi already knew that, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. "You still have a couple of decades," he says. It was meant to be a statement of fact, but it comes out resembling a plea.

"Perhaps," Momiji mutters. His lips are pulled into a bittersweet smile. "But what if thunder were to strike, or a sickness stripped me of my wits?"

"Don't be stupid," Kunikuzushi forces out through gritted teeth. "I'd fix you."

Momiji's expression sinks into one of surprised tenderness. "That is very sweet of you, but some things simply can't be fixed. Including my lifespan."

"But–"

"Listen to me, Kunikuzushi." Momiji's hands cup Kunikuzushi's cheeks, his fingers curling into his soft skin. "After I pass, my consciousness will live on in one of my seeds. They are not ones to sit still — they will wander, roaming the land on the thousand winds. When I sprout... come look for me."

Kunikuzushi was not prepared for this. He was not prepared for any of this. "How can you even say such a thing?" He breathes, staring without understanding. "How can you speak of your death so casually?"

Momiji hums. One of his thumbs moves to brush against Kunikuzushi's lower lip, and it makes him shiver. "It may be hard to understand for an immortal being such as yourself, but death doesn't scare me." Momiji kisses him, though it's really nothing more than a fleeting brush of his lips. "I am, however, scared of losing you."

"T-that's–" Kunikuzushi can feel his panic spreading, clawing at his heart and squeezing his lungs. This is... unlike him. But the thought of Momiji leaving, although inevitable, is– "You'd subject yourself to my company, even in other lives? Do you really hate yourself this much?" Kunikuzushi forces himself to say. His smirk feels wrong on his lips.

"Not at all," Momiji replies, nonplussed. "You may be prickly, but I care for you."

Kunikuzushi fakes a laugh. Something in him rebels at the show of dishonesty. "Do you truly believe the feeling is mutual?"

"If it isn't, then say so." Right now, Momiji's eyes look less like maple leaves and more like wildfires. "Say, 'I despise you, Momiji. Every day, I wake up wishing you were gone. The day you die is the day I find peace.'"

"I–" Kunikuzushi's breathing picks up, his chest heaving as the air is chased out of his lungs. "I-I despise–"

His tongue is suddenly heavier than steel. "Go on," Momiji says, burning a hole through his mask and straight into his soul with his eyes alone.

"I–" Kunikuzushi swallows around the knot in his throat. "I-I..."

"If that's too hard, all you have to say is that you don't care about me. Surely you can manage that much, right?"

"S-shut up–"

"Say it, Kunikuzushi."

Kunikuzushi fights for breath, his eyes stinging, his ears ringing. He claws at his chest with a hand, desperate to force the words out.

But he can't. Fae can't lie, after all.

Of course, Momiji has long learned what this kind of silence means. "You can't." The determination in his eyes vanishes like the dew at dawn, and leaves behind only somber tenderness. "Because it isn't the truth."

Finally, his tears spill. "Fuck you," Kunikuzushi curses through shuddering breaths. He feels like his heart has been cracked in half and split open, and Momiji is reaching inside of it to pluck out secret after secret. He has never felt so vulnerable. He hates it.

Roughened, yet gentle fingertips brush against his cheeks. They gather the tears and brush them away with the same tenderness they show when running along the most delicate of petals. "I'm sorry, Kuni," Momiji whispers. He brings their foreheads together, and Kunikuzushi is powerless to do anything that isn't staring into those scarlet eyes. "My true name is Kaedehara Kazuha. Please take good care of it."

Those words finally punch a sob from Kunikuzushi's throat. He shakes his head as much as Momiji's grasp will allow him to, blinking desperately against the flood surging within him and tainting his cheeks. "I don't want to have to find you," he gasps. He despises how much he sounds like the blubbering child that his mother wouldn't keep. "I don't want you to go."

"But I will." Momiji– Kazuha, Kazuha, his name is Kazuha, and what a beautiful name it is– envelops him in an embrace. "I will. No matter how much I wish I didn't have to."

~*~

The evening is painted red and brown by falling leaves. From his spot in the withered and nearly bare branches, Kunikuzushi plucks one from the air and cradles it in his palm. It crunches dangerously in his hold. "Kazuha..."

Of course, Kazuha is smiling. It's a sad smile, one tainted by the knowledge of the inevitable, but a smile nonetheless. Smiles have long carved places for themselves in his face, decorating the corners of his lips and eyes with deep lines. They are horrifying reminders of his aging body, yet they are cruel enough to make him even more beautiful. "I think it's time."

"No." Kunikuzushi embraces him, but where there once were lean muscles and firm flesh, now he feels only brittle angles that dig into his skin. "No. No, no, not yet–"

"I'm sorry, Kuni."

"You can't!" Kunikuzushi pleads. He claws at Kazuha's back, desperate to hold on. Just a day more– hell, he'll take an hour. A minute. "Please..."

"Hey." Kazuha's voice is worn and fragile, but no less loving. He gently pulls back from Kunikuzushi's embrace, then takes him by the chin and forces him to meet his eyes. "You'll find me, right?"

Another sob, another knife through his heart. "I will. I swear I will." And then, finally, he forces out the question that has plagued him for almost three decades. "Will you forget?"

Kazuha's expression is so soft as he considers him. "I will forget many things, yes. Likely everything," he says, but before Kunikuzushi can protest Kazuha presses his index finger to the fae's lips. "It's okay. Even if I forget you... doesn't that mean I'll get to fall in love with you all over again?"

"But I don't want you to forget me!" Kunikuzushi bats Kazuha's hand away, and immediately feels horrible about it. He grabs that knotty hand with both of his own and holds it close to his chest, pressing it against his heart. "I-I..."

Kazuha's free hand rises to rest on his nape, and Kunikuzushi lets himself be pulled into a kiss. It's as fleeting as the leaves fluttering around them, and when they break apart Kunikuzushi is stuck between wanting a thousand more and running away right here and now. "It's going to be okay," Kazuha whispers. He shifts to embrace Kunikuzushi again, and the branch they're sitting on creaks dangerously at the movement.

"Y-you can't know that." Kunikuzushi's hands curl into Kazuha's shirt, and Kazuha's bones press right back against him. "I don't even know if I can pull it off... a-and even if I do, what if I'm just a stranger to you? What if–"

"Love."

Kunikuzushi bites back everything — his protests, his sobs, his very breath. He squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for Kazuha to gather his words. He used to speak so easily, as if he were spinning the words from the very air around him; but lately, he's had to think about them more and more. Sometimes he even stops mid-sentence, having forgotten what he was about to say.

He really is losing him, in every way possible. Except, he amends when Kazuha's lips brush against his temple, when it comes to his affection.

"We don't have a choice," Kazuha eventually breathes out. "We can both wish to change this as much as we'd like, but the truth is that we can't. All we can do is try to make the most of this."

"I know." Kunikuzushi swallows, blinking back tears. Behind Kazuha's back, a new crack tears its way through the trunk's bark. "But it's not fair."

Kazuha laughs, then, and despite how pained the sound is there is still a gentleness to it that makes Kunikuzushi want to scream. "It isn't."

He doesn't know how much more time passes — whether a second or an hour. All he knows is that, at some point, he feels Kazuha disappear. His fingers sink into his back more than they should ever be able to, his arms push and push until he stops feeling flesh and bone, and is met with only air.

There's a whispered goodbye, one last, fleeting kiss. A promise of eternal love breathed against his lips.

And then, nothing.

Kunikuzushi's arms slip and come to press against his own chest. The wind howls around him, bringing with it a storm of red and brown. There's a creaking noise, then the deafening sound of ancient wood splintering and–

And Kunikuzushi falls. He spreads his wings reflexively, but doesn't react fast enough: he hits the ground hard, and the impact punches what little breath he still had in his lungs. He fights to regain it, wincing at the pain irradiating from his back.

As he tries to get up, he's faced with it. Kazuha's favorite branch, on the ground next to him, split into several pieces.

He remembers, several decades ago, when one of Kazuha's smaller branches was ripped off by a hurricane. He remembers how Kazuha yelped in pain, his hands running up and down his arms as if to feel for a limb that wasn't there. He remembers how that pained sound, although quiet, painfully squeezed Kunikuzushi's heart and continued to echo in his ears long after the storm had passed.

But now there are no cries of pain, no shuddering breaths, no quiet reassurances that it's alright, he's alright, it'll grow right back. No — now, the only sounds are those of the howling wind and splintering wood.

He's gone.

~*~

Kunikuzushi's spell works, but not well enough.

He can feel Kazuha's essence. He can feel its lingering ghost on the withered maple tree, can retrace the steps he would take around the trunk before his natural boundaries could stop him in his tracks. He feels it in the withered leaves that have fallen to the ground and started to become one with the earth. He feels it in the air, in the myriad of seeds that are now being rushed away by the wind.

But he can't feel him.

He's everywhere and nowhere. Kunikuzushi turns this way and that, searching desperately with wide eyes. The wind seems to grow even more cruel, whipping his face and tugging at his clothes. Kunikuzushi stumbles and falls, and he doesn't get up.

There's something ironic about this, he thinks as the thousand seeds whirl and dance beyond his reach and, eventually, his sight. Kazuha did say that, had he not been bound to his tree, he would have loved to wander the world. And now here he is, flying away.

Kunikuzushi's laughter turns into sobs but he gets up anyway, swaying on trembling legs and barely breathing through his shudders. It doesn't matter. Even if he has to chase after ghosts and wander with nothing but a vague inkling as a guide, he will find him.

He doesn't know what he'll make of himself if he doesn't.

~*~

Decades pass.

With each year, Kunikuzushi's heart grows heavier. Not sadder, which surprises him. Just... heavier, yet emptier at the same time. He feels as if he's been hollowed out, and all that's left of him now is a mindless husk operating on the memory of a pipe dream. It makes the sudden bursts of whatever emotions he still feels even more painful.

He thinks about giving up, sometimes. Not because he's stopped caring — gods no — but because it's too much. Each sapling he stumbles upon is a punch to the gut, a sharp-tongued mockery of his naive hope. He even finds a young nymph, once — a child with dark hair and amber eyes who jumps down from their crimson-leaved perch and beckons Kunikuzushi closer. But Kunikuzushi marches on, ignoring the child's shouts and barely breathing through ragged sobs.

Every day, it's harder to get up. His wings have long grown tired, and his bare feet are now acquainted with a multitude of cuts and bruises. His hair has grown well beyond a manageable length, and now brushes against the ground with each step. He can't remember the last time he slept. People are scared of him, and have taken to simply calling him "the mourning fae." Some show pity on occasion, but the majority dart away from him, surreptitiously whispering among themselves.

Still, he keeps going. He made a promise, after all.

~*~

One early spring afternoon, his pointed ears pick up on a melody. It's a sharp, yet melodic sound, akin to... to a leaf being pressed between soft lips and played like a makeshift flute.

He can feel a faint trace heading in the sound's direction, and although it isn't so dissimilar from all the other echoes he's been chasing all these years the nostalgic sound draws him in either way, so he doesn't think much before following it. He makes his way through the woods, down an incline. A river rushes next to his feet and he follows it mindlessly, vaguely thinking that maybe he should wash himself, since he hasn't gotten around to that very often lately. But for now he follows the sound and the flashes of red leaves peeking through the trees, though he keeps a tight hold on the tentative hope that sprouts in his chest despite decades of disappointments.

He eventually reaches a clearing, and pauses. The view is achingly familiar, with a maple tree standing tall and proud in the middle of the glade, its crimson leaves swaying gently in the breeze and reflecting in the water below. The tree is smaller than the one in his memories, younger, yet with a sturdiness to it that makes Scaramouche want to climb it and rest between its leaves. He raises his gaze, just to find that the largest branch is already occupied by–

Kunikuzushi stops breathing. White hair mussed by the breeze. Skin kissed by the sun itself. Gentle fingers that hold a leaf to rosy lips. Red eyes that flutter open when Kunikuzushi takes a trembling step forward, red like the leaves around him, red like a fiery sunrise, red like the warmth he ignites behind Kunikuzushi's eyes.

And his voice, soft and low, like a siren's song. "Greetings. I don't often get visitors here, much less one of the Fair Folk." A smile, one that strikes something in Kunikuzushi's chest and cracks it open. "You seem tired, my friend. I'm afraid I don't have much to offer you, but please, come and rest for a while."

Kunikuzushi has forgotten how to function. He stands there, shocked into stillness and silence, as his mind desperately tries to make sense of what he's seeing. Is it... is it finally over?

Has he finally found him?

"Friend?" He lets himself fall from the branch and lands gracefully, his every movement as if part of a dance. "Are you alright?"

"Kazuha..."

At Kunikuzushi's raw whisper the man's eyes widen in alarm, and Kunikuzushi's heart bursts. It's him. It's truly him. "How do you know–"

Kazuha cuts himself off when the desperation that has kept Kunikuzushi standing all these decades leaves him and he falls to his knees. A ragged sob tears its way through him, pulling several others with it, as the tears that have constantly burned his eyes finally fall. "K-Kazuha..."

Hurried steps crush the dewy grass, and Kazuha is soon dropping to his knees in front of him. His gaze is so full of worry, even though... even though Kunikuzushi is just a stranger to him. The thought hits him like a cold shower, and another hiccup tumbles past his lips. He must look so pathetic... what a terrible first impression. He hopes Kazuha won't hate him for this. "I'm s-sorry, I..."

"It's alright. Please, take your time, Ku–"

Kazuha cuts himself off abruptly, and they stare at each other in stunned silence. "Ku... ni?" Kazuha almost reaches out, though his hand stills in the air between them. "Are... are you Kuni?"

Kunikuzushi can't think. There's too many thoughts, too many doubts and hopes and disbelieving cries, so all he manages is a quiet, "huh?"

Yet that seems to be answer enough. "You are, aren't you?" Kazuha whispers, staring at him with wide eyes. They roam Kunikuzushi's face, his whole body, before settling on his own gaze. "Kuni..."

Kunikuzushi remembers how to breathe. He gasps through a couple of breaths, trying desperately to hold himself together under a growing wave of desperate hope. "You... remember?"

"It's rather hard to explain, but..." Kazuha swallows, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture that Kunikuzushi used to tease him for. His hair is shorter, he only now notices, reaching barely past his chin in messy waves. "Ever since I woke up, I could feel this... this gnawing emptiness in my heart. Like I was missing something — no, someone important. I didn't actually remember who that was, but I did remember a name." Kazuha cracks a small smile, one that's still a little uncertain yet unbearably gentle. "I'm told Kuni was the first word I ever spoke. I did assume they must have been someone important to me in a past life, but I never imagined that... that I'd ever meet them again..."

To their mutual surprise, tears start to stream down Kazuha's freckled cheeks. The man gasps softly, raising a hand to brush them away. "I-I apologize, I don't know why I'm... This emptiness has been eating away at me for so long, I never thought I'd actually–"

Before he can finish his sentence, Kunikuzushi is falling in his arms and promptly breaking down.

~*~

Kazuha quietly says that the tree branch he had been sitting on is still too young and weak to sustain both of their weights, so they sit by the tree's roots instead. Kazuha gently manipulates them to make more room for them, which makes Kunikuzushi snort. "So you can move them," he chuckles, his voice still raw from crying. Kazuha shoots him a quizzical look, to which Kunikuzushi shakes his head fondly and says, "I'll tell you later." Kazuha agrees with a hum and a smile.

They sit in silence for a while, pretending they aren't stealing looks at each other, but when their eyes meet for what may be the fifth time they chuckle and quietly decide that it would be alright to shamelessly stare at each other instead; and there's plenty for Kunikuzushi to stare at, not only to commit his features to memory once again, but also because even though Kazuha still looks quite a lot like his previous self he's also decidedly younger. He's only a few years into adulthood, contrasting the already mature man that Kunikuzushi first met, but it doesn't feel strange at all; Kunikuzushi is happy he's able to see another stage of Kazuha's life, quietly studying how, while the strong set of his shoulders and his sharp eyes remind Kunikuzushi of his maturity, there's still a boyish charm clinging to his cheeks. He has to fight the foolish impulse to pinch them.

...He'll have even more time with him. The thought makes him grin uncontrollably — which, in turn, makes Kazuha blush. Right, he always seemed to enjoy his smiles...

"Um... Kuni?"

He seems a little more unsure than his older self, too. Not quite as confident, a little awkward around the edges. How adorable... "Yes?"

"I... p-please don't laugh at me, this is rather embarrassing." The preemptive request is already threatening to make Kunikuzushi laugh, so he bites the inside of his cheek as he nods. "Alright. I, um... I'm getting a very, very strong urge to kiss you. Would– would that be... alright? With you? I-is that something we used to do...?"

"Pfft–"

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" Kazuha whines, puppy eyes and all.

"Hah... sorry, sorry. You're just too cute."

Kazuha is nearly the same color as the streak in his hair, but to his credit, he doesn't back down even as Kunikuzushi draws closer, nor when Kunikuzushi gently grabs him by the chin to pull him in and their noses brush. And when their lips press together with the softness of freshly fallen snow, it isn't long before they're both melting into the kiss, sighing contentedly. It all feels different, yet so right — the shy movements of Kazuha's lips, his dreamy sighs, his hesitant hands as they begin to roam Kunikuzushi's body. He lets Kazuha touch, and he touches in turn, feeling the firm expanses of flesh and muscles under his palms.

He's... really here. He's real.

This is all... real.

Kunikuzushi draws back with a shuddering breath, and Kazuha, despite being red-faced and clearly overwhelmed, catches a tear before it can spill down his cheek. He doesn't ask questions, only caresses and occasionally dries Kunikuzushi's face, gently pulling him into his lap. The intimacy is comforting, yet...

Kunikuzushi draws back at the sudden realization. "I must be disgusting," he mutters, looking down at his dirty robes and tangled hair and blushing in embarrassment. He really let Kazuha not only see, but even kiss him while he looks like this? How humiliating. "I... I need to wash up."

"It's alright, I don't mind."

"I do," Kunikuzushi huffs. He gets to his feet and begins to shrug off his robes, chuckling at the speed with which Kazuha covers his eyes. "It's okay, you can look. You've seen me bare plenty of times before."

Kazuha blushes so violently at the implication that it's a wonder he doesn't implode. He shyly throws Kunikuzushi a few glances as the fae sinks into the river, and his embarrassment only grows when Kunikuzushi teasingly asks whether he'd like to join him, but he seems to pluck up the necessary courage to shed his own clothes and enter the water alongside him.

Despite the very obvious glances thrown by both parties, the process is chaste. Kazuha is only freshening up and finishes much earlier than Kunikuzushi, so he begins to help the fae wash himself, not before asking about a thousand times whether he's sure. Kunikuzushi is more than sure, to the point that he even lets him clean his wings, despite how sensitive they are. At least he can blame his relentless shivering and reddened skin on the cold water.

With his wings and body clean, Kazuha moves to his long and tangled hair. It's a pain, and Kunikuzushi is already thinking about how to cut it, but the feeling of Kazuha combing it with his fingers is so pleasant that he considers keeping it somewhat long, instead of returning to his normally short cut — and the feeling only intensifies when, after they've dried somewhat, Kazuha sits behind him and begins to braid his hair. Kunikuzushi sighs contentedly, spreading his wings to make more room for Kazuha and staring up at the dying sunlight peeking through the maple leaves and painting the world in golden hues. It's all... rather calming. His breakdown from earlier — and, he suspects, a few decades of ceaseless wanderings — are quickly catching up to him, and as soon as Kazuha quietly announces that he's done Kunikuzushi melts against his chest. Kazuha laughs, moving his braid to the side so that it won't bother them, and wraps Kunikuzushi into a warm embrace.

It's familiar. "You sure warmed up to me quickly," Kunikuzushi mutters to himself, smiling when Kazuha's heart skips a beat against his back.

"I... I suppose I have." Kazuha's hand gently strokes Kunikuzushi's side, up and down, in calming motions. "It's true that I don't have any specific memories of our time together, but this feels so... natural. I think my soul remembers you, Kuni."

"...Fuck's sake, you're going to make me cry again."

Kazuha's laugh is as breathless as it is sweet, and Kunikuzushi finds himself mindlessly sinking into it. His eyes close, but he remains awake for a while longer, drinking in the world around him — the breeze rustling the treetops, the rushing river, Kazuha's calm breaths and the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his breath as he rests his head on Kunikuzushi's shoulder and his lips brush against Kunikuzushi's cheek. "I think I love you," he whispers, nearly soundless. "I think I always have. So thank you for finding me again: my heart finally knows who it's always longed for.”

Predictably, Kunikuzushi sheds a few more tears — though this time, it’s with a laugh.