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Night overhangs the two as Tomo lays his head in Kazuha's lap, the pair endlessly sharing mundane stories as the minutes pass and the stars shift in the sky.
Today is the day of Kazuha's birth, yet the two hadn't done anything significantly different from their normal routine. It is another day, after all, and they're lucky to see it – that's what Tomo would hear.
Kazuha's fingers brush away the locks of hair resting on Tomo's forehead, and he cups the side of his face to mindlessly thumb his cheek. Almost calculated, he leans forward from the tree he'd been resting on to get a better look at Tomo.
Their eyes meet, because there's not anywhere else to look.
"Do I have something on my face?" Tomo almost laughs, a crooked smile spreading across his face.
"No, no." Kazuha leans back. "I just wanted to check something."
"Check?" Tomo tries reaching for his face with a palm, but receives possibly the most gentle swat ever given and doesn't try pushing.
As if to make a point, Kazuha's fingers go back to tracing around his skin, but this time, they're much more precise. Particularly, they end up circling a particular scar just by the side of Tomo's eyebrow – not too deep, but not too light, and faded with age.
"Tell me about this one."
Kazuha's voice is almost inviting – Tomo can never get sick of listening to him, even if it's the tiniest strings of words in a brief reply… or when he's been doing most of the talking. And yet, when he loses himself in thought like this, Kazuha still idly caresses his face, patiently waiting for another story like the countless others to be told.
"I've actually had it since childhood. I was sparring against… someone, I can't remember – but they caught me off guard. Lost my step a couple times and ended up with that, as well as a few other scars you've seen already."
When Tomo looks back at Kazuha, his expression has changed – his eyebrows are ever so slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips tip downward. His hand hasn't stopped moving, though.
"...Something up?"
There's a momentary pause, filled with the sounds of the night. Kazuha sighs, "I only wish that person would have been more careful. You were a child, after all."
"Eh, I don't remember most of it." Is Tomo's automatic response, which he quickly realises is the wrong one once Kazuha's face wilts even more in turn.
Before he can get a reply, Tomo quickly follows up with, "No – Kazuha – it's fine. It was just a spar, and they can't be seen, so…"
He instinctively reaches to swish the hair back and cover up the scar, but is stopped by Kazuha's hand and pushed away. Without much time for Tomo to act again, Kazuha leans down and peppers a light kiss atop the old wound, trailing towards other scars that dot his face and repeating the process.
It's slow, precisely carried out in true Kazuha fashion. But Tomo can't seem to care about anything else other than the lips that gently handle him now, and the warmth that travels from the points their faces meet to his cheeks, tinted in a dusty pink. The final spot Kazuha's lips meet are Tomo's own in a much, much longer hold – enough for Tomo's mind to flurry.
Then, Kazuha pulls back, seemingly proud of his work.
"I don't believe they're something to be ashamed of," he says very matter-of-factly, a soft smile creeping up his face. He returns to passively stroking Tomo's face – only, making sure that each scar is equally as appreciated.
Tomo lets out a clipped chuckle, because that's all his lungs are really able to manage right now. He decides a verbal reply can come later, and now, he'll simply bask in the moment.
His eyes flutter shut, and that's Kazuha's cue to lean back. A symphony of whistling wind and cricket chirps fills their ears, not a word spoken between them as Kazuha's hand slows.
"Happy birthday, Kazuha," Tomo says so softly it almost goes unheard. But it doesn't – and after a pause of consideration, Kazuha's response is to bend forward and place a final kiss on Tomo's lips, whispering a 'thank you'.
When Kazuha leans back, he decides to follow in Tomo's footsteps. His eyes close in turn, letting the faint sound of Tomo's breathing and the rise and fall in his chest lull him to rest.