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Will snow and ice ever become one?
This winter was cold.
Snow danced like falling feathers from the sky, its flakes enveloped the entire landscape in a white coat.
Tsukasa loves snow.
He loves the snow that gently strokes his skin and whispers in his ear.
He loves how it shifts from soothingly cool to ice-cold within seconds.
He loves Amane.
Amane is snow.
Amane is snow, falling softly from the sky, as if carried by the wind itself, tumbling slowly to the ground.
Amane is snow, individual pieces coming together bit by bit.
They will never be whole.
Maybe that's why he melts as soon as someone touches him
If Amane is snow, then Tsukasa is ice.
He is the ice, a frozen pane you can see through, clear as glass.
No one will ever recognize his true form
The most important?
He remains whole.
He was whole from the very beginning.
Was he?
"When the snow falls, I will be with you."
A promise. That's what he had promised Amane.
If Amane isn't whole,
then Tsukasa will fill the gaps, replace the empty parts.
He will stay with Amane, even if the world falls apart.
Inseparable.
Like snow and ice.
✧
The winter was cold when he saw the stars.
Tiny points of light, scattered all over a single place. Thousands of stars, no matter where he looked. Not the stars he and Amane once gazed upon under the night sky, but self-hung stars. String lights.
They would never be the stars.
The stars vanished.
No—they died out.
Colourful lights flickered to life—and in this place full of lost lights, lost stars, the urge overcame him.
Abruptly, he turned around and grabbed his identical likeness mid-step.
He ignored the surprised cry as he pulled him close.
"Tsukasa, wha—?"
Tsukasa didn't let him finish.
"Let's dance, Amane! This night belongs to us—only us!"
The lights accompanied him,
rocked him to the rhythm of their steps.
One, two, three—!
Clumsily, he spun around and dragged Amane along.
Onward, step by step.
One
Two
Three
Amane wriggled with the up-and-down bouncing.
"Tsukasa, this is embarrassing! We're at a light festival—"
"Yes, that's exactly why! Let's dance! Can you hear the music, Amane? Hear it and dance!"
Another wave of hands, another hop back and forth.
In that moment, he danced.
Danced to the melody.
Danced to Amane.
Danced for the lost stars.
It was no calm, rhythmic dance, but rather a wild, clumsy fidgeting.
"That's it, Amane!
Now:
Let's dance!"
Let's dance
He had always been doing that
Let's dance
Until the lights go out
Until nothing but embers remain
Until we leave everything behind
Let's dance until morning comes
The bonds tightened
they always did
Can he loosen them, just for a moment?
Even if the morning swallows him
Dawn will break, the night will end.
He will die, until he rises again.
Therefore…
Lead the dance. The dance leads you
Let's dance
Snow and ice become one.
Snow is ice
Ice is snow
He and Amane, they are one and the same.
Like snow and ice
They are not.
✧
The winter was cold when he held the ice in his hands.
He had found it on his way home.
Probably some child had stepped on it, for only splinters remained, fragments of a once-whole block of ice.
Carefully, his fingers traced the sharp edges. A barely perceptible pain flashed.
Hmm...
The ice itself was shattered, yet its edges remained sharp.
The surface shimmered as the light fell upon it.
If only...
He couldn’t remember how it had happened.
He couldn’t remember the "how?" or the "why?"
Not really.
He only remembered the sudden cold he had felt.
He remembered how the splinters dug deeper into his skin.
He remembered a trickle of blood and water. It had flowed down his arms.
Drip, drip
Crimson fell, seeped into the snow.
Little flowers bloomed.
Red on white.
Filth on purity.
Thump, thump
With every heartbeat, the flower grew.
He thought he had laughed.
He had raised his burning arms and stabbed. Again and again.
Will I be as sharp as this ice, when I shatter?
He kept going. On and on.
Let me know
On, until the ice broke.
On, until it slipped from his grip.
On, until he could hold nothing anymore.
…In the end, nothing could remain.
Snowflakes had drifted down around him.
A single one landed on him—a silent comfort before melting instantly.
Even snow doesn't stay forever.
Like Amane.
Snow and ice, Amane and Tsukasa.
Will they ever be reunited?
Like snow and ice.
✧
Winter was the hardest season for Amane.
Amane had a terrible immune system, and so Tsukasa had to warm him up every time he came home. In the cold, they had snuggled closer, breathed into each other's hands to stay warm.
The winter was cold, but that didn't matter. They had each other.
All they needed.
That's how it used to be.
This winter is cold.
Tsukasa is alone.
He misses the old days.
He misses Amane
✧
The winter was cold when Tsukasa stood in the kitchen. Alone.
Amane wasn't there. He never is.
Only him; him and the knife.
The blade shimmered enticingly, its edge a steely promise against his skin.
Lately, he had replaced the ice with a new tool—one that didn't break, that could withstand the hardest pressure. One that didn't melt away.
Not like the ice.
The knife was always there.
Sharp and deadly as ever; perfect for cutting.
Like now.
A glowing line flared up. Blood gushed out. As if spellbound, his gaze drifted down to the small stream slowly forming.
His excitement grew.
I want more! More, more! So much more!
Red flashed. More and more.
The stream became a river; an unstoppable river flowing in torrents. Blood pooled at his feet. More, always more.
With mounting excitement, he dropped the knife; it landed with a clatter on the floor as he rubbed his tingling arms. The pain multiplied a hundredfold.
Oh, how it burns! As if someone had set it on fire~
A delighted laugh escaped him, wild and uncontrolled.
"Is this what people call punishment?
No, this is divine reward~!"
_
The kitchen was a true mess.
Everything was speckled with blood, even the floorboards weren't spared—as if someone had gone overboard with paint during a water fight. Just the way Tsukasa liked it.
Regardless, he still had to clean up.
"Amane is going to be sooo mad that I dirtied his kitchen!" he hummed.
Blood dripped steadily from his arms as he scrubbed the floor, cleaned the blood-stained tiles.
"But whatever! He won't find out anyway~"
And that was for the best.
Because if Amane were to shatter, his edges wouldn't be sharp.
Just clumpy-soft remains of a dissolving lump.
He wondered when Amane would break. When he would dissolve.
They would never be the same again.
Never again.
Like snow and ice.
✧
The winter was cold when Tsukasa finally understood.
In his last moments.
Blood ran over the corners of his mouth as he touched the blade, sunken deep, so deep into his stomach.
The familiar cold welcomed him;
a cool sting, a biting pain—No, not cold; hot, hot, so hot~ everywhereeverywhereeverywhere
He was burning. Standing in flames.
Did Amane feel it too?
Would it stop if he died?
The world was mute.
Had someone slid a sheet of ice before his face?
Within this ice, this silence, he saw.
Amane.
His brother was crying. Why was he crying?
He should be happy about the luck he had given him now that Tsukasa is gone.
Tears glimmered, a raging snowstorm on breaking ice surface.
So beautiful…
He couldn't look away.
I want you to keep that look forever
Just for me
Shards mingle, snow and ice become one.
And on that day, he realized:
Amane is not snow
He's not soft.
Not the remains of a crumbled lump.
He is firmer than that.
No, Amane isn't snow.
Amane is ice
He is the ice, hard and slippery at once.
He is the ice that no one can truly hold, always slipping from one's fingers… no matter how long Tsukasa holds him.
Still easily broken.
Gently, he placed his growing colder hands on the still warm fingers of his twin brother.
He gripped the handle and pushed.
A satisfying pull as the steel slid deeper into his stomach.
Otherwise, he felt nothing. How could he? Everything was numb.
The knife was really there, wasn't it?
It wouldn't disappear.
A contented grin flitted across his face. Not the exaggerated one from before, but a small, gentle one. Unadorned.
Amane
You're no longer hiding behind the snow
His hands were soft, so soft.
Still
I love you
He coughed.
I love you, but how can I hold you?
Outside, the snow raged.
Not gentle feathers.
A feral storm.
So beautiful… and yet so terribly slushy when someone tramples on it.
Perhaps because it was destined for that like him.
Perhaps that's why Tsukasa will be the snow that falls to the ground like a whirlwind.
Amane is ice
Tsukasa is snow
How fitting, isn't it?
And on that stillborn winter…
Tsukasa fell to the ground like a lonely snowflake.
And on that stillborn winter, Amane broke.
Forever separated from each other.
As snow and ice.
But remember:
Both were water in the beginning.
Water is fluid.
Its forms change.
Tsukasa is ice — Amane is snow
Tsukasa is snow — Amane is ice
What's the difference?
✧✧✧