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It's spring.
The host of golden daffodils are bathing happily under the spring sunshine, soaking up the light as they dance softly to the gentle wind. The first primroses were beginning to bloom, a writer once said, describing the herald of spring. Ending the dark winter days, of heavy rain and falling snow, the season of flowers has come.
Morning clicks into place and the cattle start to graze the cultivated grass. The merry chirps from various birds disrupt the silence, followed by small rodents scurrying around busily in search of food.
In the distance, one can hear flowing water - a river constantly moving that no one ever knows where it truly ends, where it really leads to.
And if one were to dip a hand into the water, they will get pulled in mercilessly by the strong current.
Sakusa also insists that the mourning souls in the river Styx have nothing to do with it.
The Fields of Asphodel are rather hectic today, indifferent vapour corpses wandering lifelessly, murmuring that springtime is here. They all talk, they always talk but their words cannot be captured, half hearted promises and insufficient deeds bringing them here.
Only an island away, Elysium, the paradise of the underworld, stands.
“Too loud,” Sakusa grimaces, ordering the wind to mute the laughter and cheers of the heroes and strong willed individuals. He doesn’t intend to have another rerun of the souls of the Asphodel meadows complaining of the treatment they think they do not deserve.
By nature and universal law, everyone expects the god of the underworld to be grumpy and angry 365 days per year. His palace guards say otherwise. Sakusa has a bleeding heart, always making sure that the souls he sends to the place of either hell or heaven are less than satisfied but more than happy.
He enters the garden of Persephone and smiles at the patches of flowers he had so carefully kept safe from the cold essence of winter. Vaguely remembering that the people above believed that Persephone was a goddess he kidnapped from the wildflower pasture, Sakusa sighs. Persephone is nothing but an identity, a name he had gifted to Demeter’s daughter after his own garden thousands of years ago.
But Hades, an old title he dropped back in ancient times, is a god with a violent personality and personified as a god of evil in storybooks and animated films. Oh, yes, he had watched Disney’s take on Hercules, wanting to kill himself - he forgoes his immortality for a moment - because he does not have fire on top of his head. A mop of curly black curls rests there instead and Sakusa wonders if he should experiment with dyes. Although his wardrobe only consists of dark greys and blacks, tortured souls are far away from being sewn into his formal robes.
A yellow warbler lands on the god’s shoulder, nuzzling its beak softly into his neck. Sakusa feeds the cheery little bird sunflower seeds as he strolls leisurely through the garden.
Golden daffodils, red poppies, purple crocus - they all greet the god, the squirrels and capybaras running beside him to match his pace. Sakusa loves his garden very much, a haven that he appreciates the most, his little paradise. He welcomes all types of animals and plant species, consistently fixing up the meadow for better living.
The garden of Persephone was built by himself, he had barely used his godly powers, his own two hands digging deep into the earth to perfect the vision he created in his mind.
It took him more than three thousand years to reach the end of his project and even now the garden is still growing. Sakusa’s siblings are green with envy whenever they visit his realm and the nymphs - naiads, dryads and the rest - have a great desire to reside in his enormous backyard. But, the god of the underworld only allows non speaking creatures to live here in peace.
Standing under the lonely yet proud pomegranate tree, Sakusa stares longingly into the lake, the shimmering surface reflecting his frown. The sweet scent of springtime surrounds him and his heart aches.
It’s spring, and Sakusa feels lonely again.
-
Oikawa Tooru visits in the form of a turtle-dove.
“Did you need something, Tooru?” Sakusa asks, sipping his morning dose of caffeine. It’s a good day for his brother to drop by, the chefs are preparing roast salmon for lunch, the other god’s favourite.
The dainty dove purrs gently, its mottled chestnut coloured feathers rippling into vibrant white hues before taking the form of a man. A man of similar height to Sakusa’s appears, a handsome face framed by brown hair. Layered by a simple white T-shirt and black skinny jeans, the visitor produces a pair of gold rimmed round glasses from air before settling it on his nose bridge.
A handsome smile is then directed towards Sakusa who only nods curtly in return.
“What, I can’t pay a visit to my brother’s palace once in a while?” Tooru snickers, sitting next to him. They’re in the Garden of Persephone, seated by the lake and Tooru excitedly starts to pet Bella, Sakusa’s most loved sun bear. Bella sniffs the god’s hands before playfully biting on his fingers.
Tooru laughs in response and Sakusa sighs fondly.
“I still think Bella likes you more than me,” he says wryly before finishing his last sip of coffee.
“No one can resist beauty.”
Sakusa snorts. “More like temptation.”
The god of beauty’s face morphs from serene to scandalised.
“You take that back, Kiyoomi! I’m not Tantalus!” Tooru whines, looking a bit put off.
“Of course you’re not Tantalus. He’s stuck under a tree, remember?” The other lifts an eyebrow, trying to hold back a laugh. His brother only frowns and mumbles incoherently under his breath. Sakusa beckons Bella to come to him so he can feed her the remaining fruits and nuts from the bowl. He smiles when the bear nuzzles into his hand, heart melting at the adorable gesture.
Out of the blue, the same yellow warbler announces its appearance by making a loud chirp before landing on Bella that doesn’t seem to mind.
Sakusa chuckles, nudging the bird’s beak fondly. “You brought a friend.” He notices the rather colourful passerine bird standing not too far away, on a shrub’s branch. “Oh, a pitta,” Tooru whistles and the said bird swoops forward.
“I have enough food, don’t worry,” Sakusa says and the bowl fills itself up with more nuts. He then notices Bella’s imploring eyes, giving a knowing look. “Of course they can stay here, Bella. When have I ever said no?”
He can feel Tooru staring from beside him and he supposes he expects what comes out from the latter’s mouth afterwards.
“Your heart’s too big for your body, Kiyoomi. Probably too big for this depressing realm as well,” the god of love starts and Sakusa rolls his eyes.
Here we go again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
In the meantime, Bella slips away and the two birds follow her, undoubtedly already becoming friends in their language that Sakusa wishes he had taken the time to learn.
The other scoffs. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Sighing, the underworld king sports an exasperated look. “For the hundredth time, I don’t need anyone, I’m fine.” He grits his teeth at the last word and even he can tell he isn’t fooling anyone.
“Cut the bullshit, you’re always in your garden talking to animals and moping around when none of us visit you every month.”
“I do not mope around, thank you very much. And for the record, I always visit upstairs.”
“Yeah, for meetings. Whenever we had parties, you barely mingled with anyone except for our siblings.” Tooru pushes and Sakusa just wants to drown this discussion with the help of screaming souls. He does enjoy the parties up on Mount Olympus, the buzzing crowd and extravagant decorations lulling him into a faux sense of content. The wind deities and forest nymphs had often approached him - flirting and even tried grinding on him - but Sakusa couldn’t find the desire to play around.
He’s been by himself for more than two thousand years, his past partners only becoming bittersweet memories at this point.
“I just don’t find anyone interesting right now, that’s all,” he finally says.
Before Tooru could say another word, he quickly interrupts.
“How’s Hajime?”
Tooru’s face changes; sighing fondly. Sakusa immediately feels a sting right in his heart, like a shard of broken glass piercing through it, but he forces himself to smile. He is truly happy for his sibling - after all, Aphrodite was known to have lovers all around the globe. “He’s….well, it’s springtime and he’s gotten busier.”
Hegemone, Hajime’s official name, is the god of plants, responsible for making them bloom and bear the sweetest fruits. He remembers Tooru gushing to him about an incredible beauty.
In Sakusa’s humble opinion, he was more drawn to the fact that Hajime was able to silence Tooru with a single glance.
“Sounds like someone is missing him.” He teases and Tooru pouts.
“What’s wrong with missing him? I haven’t seen him in weeks, he’s travelling around,” he grumbles. Sakusa lets out a small smile. “Why don’t you just follow him then?”
Clearing his throat, Tooru looks down at the ground. “I did but then he told me I was being annoying.”
Sakusa only smirks.
The other glares, slapping him in the chest.
“At least I have someone,” Tooru murmurs offhandedly.
Ouch.
“Stop making everything about me,” he hisses, staring vehemently into the distance. The surface of the lake abruptly ripples into a series of violence baby waves and its clarity starts to darken into a greyish hue. Sakusa silently curses because he had forgotten the lake can sense his moods and tries to calm himself.
For once, Tooru looks apologetic.
“Kiyoomi, I didn’t mean it that way-”
“Leave it.”
“Fine, but the fact you got bothered by it means that you need to get your ass up and meet people.”
“Tooru, stop. Just stop.”
He feels tired and the water continues reflecting him, swirling into a spiral - a sign of uneasiness.
The god of beauty, love and pleasure finally gets up, dried leaves crackling underneath his black polished ankle boots. A reminder floats across his mind that he needs to sweep.
“I’m not giving up this time, Kiyoomi. Mark my words.” “Yeah, yeah. Aren’t you going to stay for lunch?” He asks that instead, waving off the ‘warning’. He’s been threatened with worse things by the wicked souls sentenced in the Fields of Punishment.
Tooru squints his eyes at him. “Sorry, I can’t. Zeus wants to meet me.”
Making a face, Sakusa stifles a laugh.
“Can we not call him that anymore? Zeus reminds me of a fifty foot tall man with a long beard who throws lightning bolts around for fun.”
“Isn’t that partly true? Daichi does own lightning bolts.”
“One that gets stolen by a demigod?”
They both share a laugh, fiction authors truly are astoundingly creative.
“See you soon, Kiyoomi-chan. And I mean it, not this time.”
A powerful breeze passes by, obscuring Sakusa’s eyesight and in a blink of an eye, the other god is gone.
“Not this time, huh,” he breathes out. At the corner of his eyes, he spots one of his servants walking towards him.
“My Lord, the judges have requested you to attend today’s hearing.”
“Who are the guilty?”
“A group of thieves this time, my Lord. Their former homes were in the streets.”
Sakusa hums in understanding, getting up. Taking one last look at his garden, he smiles albeit bitterly. It’s beautiful, he knows it but who would ever want to settle down here, down in the grimy and gloomy realm - where the only nice place to go is his own home?
He can’t do it to anyone, even the nymphs and dryads who beg for a humble tree in his vast garden. They will get sick eventually - bilious at the rancid scents of the five souls infected rivers and feeling caged in by the garden; a prison in disguise. He has gotten used to the feeling but he can’t leave. When he walks outside the entrance, Sakusa schools his expression into something unreadable, eyes of unbiased intensity.
Back in the garden, the lake becomes still.
-
Agora Gallery has been Sakusa’s favourite place to visit lately. The whitewashed walls act as empty canvases - he always feels thrilled at the sight of numerous paintings and contemporary art filling them up, like innocent children patching stickers onto empty pages of their parents’ journals.
Fixing his glasses, he inches forward to admire one of the newer exhibitions titled 'The Elixir of Color'.
It’s a wonderful piece, abstract art can truly form a lot of interpretations and Sakusa wants to study each one.
The underworld god loves and appreciates every artist, especially the ones who constantly search for ways to capture the essence of magic and blend it seamlessly into their art. Magic flows everywhere, even in the most mundane object. Therefore, he enjoys blessing creators with a little bit of magic, refining their masterpieces even more.
Sakusa hears multiple footsteps entering the area he is in but pays no attention to them. Continuing to examine the painting, from the splotches of blue to the swirls of rose dust, he contemplates briefly.
Maybe he should buy this piece as a gift for Daichi’s party?
“Dude, look, he’s pretty hot, don’t you think?”
His eye twitches.
“Shut up, he can hear you!” Someone else whispers frantically and Sakusa resists the urge to smirk. Being a god has a lot of perks, including the ability to catch even the slightest change of breathing. His phone beeps, the sound bouncing off the walls.
“Please, it’s not like he has supersonic hearing or something.”
“Shut it, Kuroo.”
Sakusa stills. Kuroo sounds familiar, like a name he’s supposed to remember. But then again, the god of wealth and riches has known a lot of people in his immortal reign. Turning around, he lets out a small ‘ah’ when he sees the two men.
Tooru’s old clubbing friend only gives him a subtle once over, lowering his head a bit.
An act of respect, Sakusa notes and decides to acknowledge it.
Auraes, without fail, are so temperamental, judging by the smirk he receives from the wind nymph afterwards. He raises a brow, all wind nymphs are to be present on Mount Olympus right now but it looks like one has escaped Daichi’s line of sight.
He focuses on the man beside the aurae. Sakusa feels himself becoming motionless, as if turned into stone by Medusa.
For lack of a better word, Sakusa simply thinks he’s beautiful.
Although his own skin isn’t that pale anymore, he found a hobby in soaking up the sunlight during summers, Sakusa is in awe at the human’s bronze skin tone. It looked like it was lightly kissed by one of Bokuto’s precious sun beams he offers during crop seasons for better produce. The man’s face falls way above the Greek statues’ aesthetic value with his almond shaped eyes, the straightest nose and toned down rosy lips.
Sakusa now understands why humans love to compare visuals to marble statues, as if they were chiseled by the gods.
His shoulders are broad, broader than his, with thighs thick enough to crush a man’s skull.
He also silently wonders if the man’s upper torso lying underneath his clothes also looked like a sculpted physique of Adonis himself.
Once again, his phone beeps and Sakusa blinks.
Right, he needs to leave this instance.
Kuroo peers at him curiously, terribly aware of the glazed look that had slid over the god’s eyes. Meanwhile, Sakusa notices the human staring at him unabashedly, and he feels warm till the tip of his fingers.
The wind nymph leans into the other’s space, whispering something that makes Sakusa’s ears actually flush.
“I think he finds you hot instead.”
Clearing his throat, the god hurriedly walks past the two, ignoring how his heart beats faster at the thought of those two warm eyes boring into his back.
After he leaves the art gallery, Sakusa takes a deep breath and stares down at his hands. They’re sweaty, he’s actually sweating.
“What are you doing...you’re a god not a blushing schoolgirl,” he mutters, frowning that he let his human characteristics come to life after thousands of years of suppressing them. It’s not like he hasn’t seen any attractive people during his long life.
Yet, deep down, Sakusa questions as to why his heart fluttered when he caught the man’s eyes?
Shaking his head, he decides to blame his dwindling visits to the mortal world. He was probably just appreciating the man’s gorgeous complexion, just like he would think highly of any form of art.
He recalls Kuroo as well and makes a face.
“I’m fucked,” he thinks to himself. Tooru and Kuroo may have stopped jumping from bars to clubs but they’re still close friends.
Maybe he’ll think it was nothing.
Striding forward, Sakusa heads to the Empire State building, the slight chilly air grazing against his black T-shirt.
Call him unorthodox, he knows he can just apparate directly to Mount Olympus but Sakusa wants to linger on the ground for a little bit more.
His home is constantly dark, where every spot outside his palace is designated into death traps, where the deepest parts of the underworld are boiling with millennia of anger and hatred - a place where even the god himself refused to put a foot in. The world upstairs is always changing, always evolving and Sakusa tastes bitter on his tongue.
He greets the bellboy at the building who bows before him without an ounce of hesitation.
“My Lord, it’s always a pleasure to have you come here.”
“Am I late?”
“Of course not, my Lord.”
Sakusa gives a small smile and asks the bellboy to come closer. He pulls out a ruby gemstone out of thin air, gifting it to the bellboy.
“For you.”
Entering the elevator, he waves at the bellboy who still hasn’t stopped thanking him with bows and hundreds of thank yous.
-
“Our guest of honour has finally arrived!” Bokuto cheers, winking playfully before clasping Sakusa’s shoulder in greeting. Rolling his eyes, he gently pushes the god of archery in lieu of a reply.
“I’m not that late.”
“Were you sightseeing in New York again?”
“Yes and I enjoyed it, thank you.”
“You and your love for art. Did you get another painting for Daichi again?”
Sakusa rolls his eyes. “Don’t make it sound like I only throw out paintings as presents.”
“Correction, you only throw out artistries as presents,” Bokuto wiggles his finger at him, cackling afterwards. Grunting, Sakusa resists from punching his shoulder.
“Okay, god of arts and poetry.”
Bokuto only shrugs and leaves to talk to others. Taking a moment, the god of the dead and riches admires Mount Olympus for the umpteenth time. The place looks more and more lavish than the last time he visited, which was only just a few weeks ago. Even though the greenland outside has spectacular scenery, Daichi tells him it doesn’t hold a candle compared to his Garden of Persephone.
Sakusa can’t seem to disagree.
The original Pantheon would unfailingly take its guests’ breath away with the marble columns standing proudly in rows and extravagant sculptures lining the vast area. Asahi did a flawless job in crafting each of the Olympian gods’ statues with top accuracy.
Now, the immortal man resides in the infamous Labyrinth which he had built himself, sometimes delivering statues or automatons anonymously to Mount Olympus.
A long time ago, Sakusa felt an immense amount of sadness of not being included as an Olympian god, but he has accepted his fate, forever living in the world of the dead.
He goes on to address his other relatives, wishing them amiable hellos with a grin. Sometimes, Sakusa feels like he’s being babied around, as if he wasn’t thousands of years old just like the rest of them, and the gods and goddesses still coddle him, ruffling his hair and saying he’s doing a great job in capturing lost souls wandering the mortal world.
“Honestly, Sakusa, I don’t know how you do it. You’re amazing.” Someone voices out and he merely smiles.
“I’m not amazing, just doing my job.”
Tooru later pops out from nowhere, hugging him, his whole body vibrating in excitement. Sakusa tries to make the hug brief, but alas his brother wouldn’t let him go anyway. He’s annoyingly endearing like that.
“Um, Tooru? I’m happy to see you too?”
The other giggles and only hugs him tighter.
On his left, Sakusa hears someone snickering loudly - well, all the guests are laughing and generally having fun - but the tone is not foreign to his ears. He glances at Kuroo who suddenly stops laughing, covering his mouth before mingling with the other nymphs looking like he hadn’t done something out of the ordinary.
“A little birdie told me something interesting today.” Tooru at last speaks, pulling back, mischievous eyes staring back at him.
Glancing at the group of auraes again, the underworld god is now conscious of a churning sensation in his stomach.
“Good for you.” He deadpans, trying to escape from the other’s hold but Tooru is already sinking his nails in his skin.
“Don’t you wanna know what it is?” Tooru asks, testing the waters.
“No thanks.” Deciding not to play along with him, he grimaces when the latter produces a noise at the back of his throat.
“You’re no fun.”
“I know, you told me this when I was born.”
“Kiyoomi!”
He gives an exasperated look; bracing himself for the worst. “Fine, what did Kuroo tell you?”
“He told me that-,” the god halts, “How did you know it was Tetsu-chan?”
“You guys aren’t really discreet.”
Tooru smirks. “We were planning to be obvious from the start. Anyways, I was told you deadass stopped in your tracks and ogled at his really hot friend. Tetsu-chan said he even saw flower petals falling from the sky.”
Wow, it was worse than he thought.
“He was being dramatic, no wonder you’re friends. Also, there were no flower petals, this isn’t an anime.”
“HA! You’re not even denying that you checked out his friend.”
Sakusa wants to leave.
A voice booms, echoing throughout the halls.
“Thank you all for coming to my party,” Daichi starts and Sakusa eyes Tooru to shut up. The latter huffs, signalling that this was not the end of their discussion.
The leader of the gods stands on the rostrum, his crescent eyes looking down at the crowd. “As you all know, this event is a small token of appreciation from the Olympian gods to thank each and every one of you for doing an excellent job in your areas of expertise. The world will cease to exist without you.”
Daichi raises his wine glass, smiling happily.
“A toast for all of you, we’ll be celebrating till the break of dawn!”
Raising their glasses, they all cheer loudly in return, thanking each other.
"I would also like to thank my brother, Kiyoomi.” Daichi clears his throat and the underworld ruler widens his eyes. The audience goes quiet once again, turning their heads and casting their eyes on him.
“I’m sure everyone is fully aware of this but my brother has done the best job in taking care of his realm and preventing our enemies from escaping and endangering the human world.”
Sakusa holds his breath, clenching his fists together. He can hear murmurs of agreement from his relatives, even from the deities and he exhales slowly.
So, he wants to talk about this.
Continuing, Daichi directs a gratified smile towards him, oblivious to the god’s discomfort. “I believe that Kiyoomi had taken the heaviest duty ever since Shinsuke, Kiyoomi and myself had divided the lands after vanquishing our father. The underworld realm is a chaotic place and I cannot fathom being responsible for it.”
“As do I,” Shinsuke adds, the sea god beaming at Sakusa.
Sakusa suddenly has an urge to vomit.
“And for that, I ask everyone to give another toast for the lord of wealth and buried riches, for being the unrivaled king of the secret places of the earth! Cheers!”
The sound of the crowd’s applause reverberates throughout the Pantheon, echoes all around the mountain and it rings in Sakusa’s ears.
His eyesight blurs, his legs feel weak but he maintains a tight grin.
He wants to go home, he wants to go back to his garden, surrounded by ashen lands and greyish papyrus trees. Everyone, gods, goddesses, the nymphs and deities, the whole list of Greek and Roman creatures to exist and even the demigods, they know; they are aware that Sakusa had gotten the short end of the stick.
That Hades was a god who was never welcomed by men for ruling over the dead - for stealing away their loved ones.
Shinsuke’s voice wakes him out of his trance.
“Kiyoomi?”
“Ah, sorry, what did you say? I didn’t quite catch it.”
His brother laughs heartily. “You had always loved to space out. I asked if you wanted a gift of any sorts.”
“A gift?”
“Yes, a gift. I know you hate receiving them but I really want to give you one. After all, you never fail to bring presents for everyone whenever we meet.”
“Shinsuke is right, Kiyoomi-chan. I love it whenever you deliver me handmade tapestries to my doorstep every year.” Tooru decides to interrupt, slinging an arm around Sakusa’s shoulder.
“I don’t need gifts, guys. I appreciate the thought but I don’t want anything, really.”
Lies after lies, he ponders. There was always something he wished for but it can never be granted.
Not giving up, Shinsuke shakes his head stubbornly. “I know we all can get everything for ourselves but just once, Kiyoomi, what is it that you want?”
I don’t want to do this anymore.
“I can’t think of anything, I’m sorry,” he replies carefully, trying to placate his brother.
I want to hold someone's hand.
Tooru just drags him closer and whispers ever so sweetly into his ear. His heart almost stops beating when the other whispers out the deepest, darkest wish that Sakusa desperately hopes for.
“You desire love, my brother, you crave a companion,” he says, squeezing his shoulder before letting go.
For once, Shinsuke is bewildered. “Love?”
“I’m the symbol of love and beauty, dear Poseidon. I’m the only one here who can sense loneliness, who can detect one’s emptiness.”
The god of the sea and earthquakes stares at him and Sakusa really wants to go home.
“Kiyoomi...you are lonely? You wish for someone to love?”
Sakusa hates the look his brother is wearing, despises the pity he sees in his eyes.
“Not this time, Kiyoomi,” Tooru says sternly, repeating the same words and sauntering away. He spots Hajime waiting for Tooru, waiting for his beloved. They embrace each other before pulling apart and they appear to be so in love, smiling at each other like they’re in their own world of happiness.
Locking eyes with Kiyoomi, Hajime waves at him cheerfully, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise when Tooru tries to lift him up. He rolls his eyes at Tooru’s failed romantic gesture but grins nonetheless.
It’s a beautiful sight and Sakusa’s heart twinges in pain. Gulping the lump in his throat, he sighs and something starts to burn in his eyes.
“Maybe I am,” he trails off, his voice a mere whisper and he walks away, ignoring the shouts from his brother.
For some reason, the man he had seen from the art gallery appears in his mind and oh, he cannot bear such a pretty image. The man’s bright eyes manage to break out a small smile on his face and Sakusa sighs bitterly.
Sakusa then leaves with his back turned on everyone and if one were to see the expression he had let out, even death would be welcomed more.
Arriving back at his palace, the guards greet their king. He halts, turning to the head guard.
“Lock down this palace, I don’t want any visitors.”
His servant appears confused. “For how long, my Lord? And what of your siblings?”
The god looks upwards at the gloomy sky and he feels like he’s running out of breath.
“I guess...until I say so. As for my siblings, just keep them away for now. That is all.”