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Seimei had always known the exact moment Haruaki entered a room—like a shift in the air, a subtle warmth settling behind his ribs. It wasn’t magic, though Seimei wielded plenty of that; it was instinct, sharpened by years of watching over a brother too gentle for a world that took without asking.
Haruaki laughed softly at something trivial, and Seimei’s gaze followed him with the devotion of a guardian who had long forgotten where duty ended and affection began.
To others, Seimei was brilliant, untouchable, severe. To Haruaki, he was simply nii-san—the one who walked half a step behind, who corrected his sleeves, who remembered every food he disliked and every silence that meant he was hurting.
Seimei told himself this was normal. Brothers were meant to protect. He just did it better than most.
If the world ever dared to reach for Haruaki with unclean hands, Seimei had already decided—quietly, irrevocably—that he would burn it down first.
Today was no different. Seimei perched on his balcony, the night cool on his skin, when the door slid open behind him.
"Nii-san?"
Seimei turned. Haruaki, currently grown into a fine adult, stood in the doorway, dressed in an old shirt he kept for comfort. Something was off—a shadow in his eyes that hadn't been there earlier.
"Haruaki." Seimei tilted his head, voice smooth but alert. "You're up late. Bad dream?" He patted the space beside him on the stone ledge. "Come here."
Haruaki hesitated, then padded barefoot across the cold floor to sit beside him. "Not a dream. Just... couldn’t sleep." He looked down at his hands. "It’s stupid."
Seimei didn’t press. He never forced words from his brother like others might tear leaves from a tree. Instead, he shifted closer—just enough so their shoulders touched—and let the silence breathe between them like an old friend.
After a moment, he said softly, “Stupid things worry you the most. I know.” A faint smirk played on his lips. “And I always know.”
He reached over and ruffled Haruaki’s hair—messy as ever—and whispered, “So tell me anyway.”
A laugh huffed from Haruaki's lips—part genuine humor, part nervous release. It was a sound Seimei would do anything to hear more often.
Haruaki fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Promise you won't think I'm stupid for being upset?"
Seimei rolled his eyes, but his expression was warm. "Promise."
"Fine." Haruaki let out a breath, then mumbled something so softly it almost got lost in the night wind.
Seimei leaned closer, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Hm?"
Haruaki glanced up, cheeks a little pink. "I said, I think—it's just, it's so stupid—but…"
Seimei waited, his patience as endless as the stars above them.
"Well…" Haruaki fidgeted again, toying with the loose threads on his sleeve. "It's just... I've been thinking. A lot."
Seimei raised an eyebrow, a silent prompt for him to go on.
"It's about... us." Haruaki's cheeks darkened further, but he kept his gaze trained on his lap.
Seimei kept silent, giving him space to continue. His mind ran through countless possibilities, none of which included his cheerful, gentle little brother looking so... conflicted.
"It's just..." Haruaki swallowed, then said it all in a rush. "Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—I want you to kiss me."
Seimei froze.
He was a master of masks, of hiding whatever twisted through his mind, but the words hit him like a sword to the gut. He'd expected anything but that—his brother, his little brother, confessing—
Haruaki was still talking, oblivious to the storm brewing in Seimei's head.
"Like... not on the cheek or forehead. But—on the lips. Just once." Haruaki’s voice cracked slightly. “I don’t know why I feel like that! I just… do.”
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees.
Seimei didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Then—slowly—he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Haruaki’s ear, his fingers lingering just a second too long against his skin.
His voice came out low, measured—as if speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile between them.
“Haruaki,” he said softly, “you’re tired. You don’t mean that.”
He stood abruptly, offering no warmth now—just space—and turned toward the room. “Go to bed.”
"I do mean it," Haruaki insisted, standing quickly. His voice wavered, but he didn't look away. "I know how it sounds—how wrong it sounds—but I can't stop thinking about it! And you—you're always so close, always watching me… don’t tell me you’ve never felt anything."
Seimei’s breath caught.
For the first time in his life, the brilliant, untouchable brother looked... shaken.
He turned slowly, eyes dark and unreadable in the moonlight. “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he said quietly. “Some things… should never be spoken aloud.”
Haruaki stepped forward. “Then show me.”
The air between them crackled—tense, fragile.
And for a heartbeat—just one—Seimei looked like he might actually do it.
But then he closed his eyes.
“Go to sleep,” he whispered, “before I say something we’ll both regret.”
Haruaki opened his mouth—to protest, to argue, to beg—but the look on Seimei's face froze the words in his throat.
Seimei took a step back. Another. Every muscle rigid with self-control that felt like a slow burn under his skin.
He needed distance. Space to think, to rein in the emotions that threatened to spill over. He was a trained warrior, a sorcerer of formidable power, and yet his own brother had reduced him to this—heart pounding, thoughts a chaotic mess, his body betraying him in ways he never thought possible.
Haruaki watched him go, frustration and confusion at war in his expression. He wanted to chase after him, to demand answers, to scream or cry or something. But he knew that look in Seimei's eyes—the one that meant stay away, this is for your own good.
Instead, Haruaki stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door, his world now tilted just enough to hurt.
Outside, the night carried on—silent, indifferent to the turbulence in two young hearts.
----
Seimei stumbled back to his room, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. He leaned against it, heart hammering in his chest.
He was a master of restraint. Years of discipline, of learning to hold his emotions so tightly they became a second skin. And one naive confession from a brother who didn't know what he was saying had nearly shattered him.
Seimei cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. What in the Nine Hells was happening to him?
He crossed the room to the small table by the window. Moonlight streamed in, casting shadows across the open books and scattered scrolls. He'd been researching powerful enchantments, weaving complex spells to strengthen the family's defense.
Now, he couldn't focus on any of it.
Seimei slammed a book shut, anger at himself rising like heat from a flame. He could handle anything—battles, demons, even the treacherous politics of the imperial court—but his own brother, his own brother, had managed to rattle him with a few simple words.
I want you to kiss me.
He shut his eyes, fighting against the image that rose unbidden in his mind—Haruaki, with his clear, honest eyes, lips parted, skin flushed in the soft light, whispering those cursed, tempting words.
Seimei's fists clenched. No.
He was the strong one. The responsible one. The one who held everyone together. He couldn't—he wouldn't—let himself feel this way about the one he was meant to protect.
But even as he thought it, the memory of his own fingers against Haruaki's skin still ached like a wound.
The look in Haruaki's eyes when he'd said, Show me.
Seimei gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. He couldn't give in—couldn't destroy the fragile boundaries between them, no matter how much his heart seemed suddenly, dangerously willing to burn them to ashes.
He took a deep, unsteady breath.
Control yourself.
He focused on the cold table beneath his gripping fingers, the sound of the night outside his window—anything to banish the thoughts that roiled through him like an oncoming storm.
Haruaki was impulsive, emotional, ruled by his heart more than his head. He didn't understand what a kiss would mean—what it would cost them both. Seimei was the one who had to be sensible.
But the more he tried to convince himself, the more the image of Haruaki's flushed face burned in his mind.
The worst part was, he couldn't even blame Haruaki for this. How could his brother possibly know the forbidden thoughts that were now haunting Seimei's every waking hour?
Seimei had worked so hard to keep those feelings buried, hidden away beneath all the masks he wore. He was supposed to be the one strong enough to resist temptation. Instead, he felt like he was hanging onto his self-control by a rapidly fraying thread.
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. He could handle this. He was the eldest, the one everyone relied on. He just had to... keep his distance. Keep his thoughts in check. Resist the growing, dangerous part of himself that wanted nothing more than to give in to the very thing he was meant to protect Haruaki from.
I can do this, he told himself, even as his heart whispered otherwise.
I have to.
He stood there for a long time, breathing in the silence—fighting an invisible war inside his chest.
And then, so quietly he barely heard it himself, he whispered into the dark:
"...I know I shouldn’t."
A pause.
"But God... I want to."
He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in shock at what he’d just admitted—aloud, to no one but the night.
No. This couldn’t be happening. He was stronger than this. Smarter. Better.
Seimei turned sharply and strode to his bed, yanking open a small drawer beneath it. Inside lay an old, leather-bound book—its cover worn smooth from years of hidden touch. A spellbook not meant for combat or protection… but for sealing away desire.
Forbidden magic.
He hadn’t touched it since he first discovered what it could do—how it could lock feelings deep inside a person’s soul where they’d never see the light of day.
His fingers trembled as he pulled it out.
“I can fix this,” he whispered harshly to himself. “Before either of us gets hurt.”
He flipped the book open with resolve hardening in his jaw—and began searching for the page titled: Bōkyaku no Ai—The Erasure of Love.
The book fell open to the correct page, as if mocking him with its knowledge of his weaknesses.
The spell was complex, full of ancient, half-forgotten words and symbols that would rip away not just romantic love—but all love. It was a cruel magic; he'd been forbidden to learn it.
But as he stared at the words, the memory of Haruaki's voice kept echoing in his mind: I want you to kiss me.
Seimei closed his eyes, heart clenching. He didn't want to do this. Everything in him rebelled at the thought.
Yet the memory of Haruaki's face—vulnerable and desperate—filled his mind. The sound of his whispered plea—Show me. He could still feel the warmth from his brother's skin, still smell the faint scent of his favorite jasmine tea.
The spellbook trembled in Seimei's hand.
"It's better this way," he muttered, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. "This is what has to happen."
His finger traced over the first line of the spell—the one that would begin the slow, painful process of erasing any and all love he felt toward Haruaki.
It was for the best, he told himself firmly. It was what a good brother would do. He was protecting both of them with this sacrifice.
So why did it feel like he was breaking something beautiful—something that should have been kept safe?
Seimei’s finger hovered above the page, the ink pulsing faintly under his touch as if alive. The spell was old, cruel magic—designed not for healing or protection, but for the destruction of emotion.
A cold wind slipped through the window, ruffling the pages like a warning.
Then—softly—from down the hall—a floorboard creaked.
Seimei froze.
Footsteps.
And then… light tapping on his door.
Seimei slammed the book shut, stashing it back into its hiding place. His heart stuttered as the tapping came again, a little more insistently this time.
"Nii-san?" came a voice from outside. "I know you're still awake."
Seimei bit back a frustrated sound. Of course it was Haruaki.
He considered pretending he'd already fallen asleep, but a part of him knew it was a lost cause. With a sigh, he called back, trying to keep his voice firm, "Go to bed, Haruaki. It's late, and we have training in the morning."
The door creaked open anyway.
Haruaki stood in the dim light, silhouetted by the moon behind him. He didn’t come in fully, but he didn’t retreat either.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly. “Not after… not after what I said. Actually... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. You're a respected onmyōji... you deserve a good future and family. I apologize. Please forget everything.”
Seimei's heart twitched unexpectedly. It would be so easy to take pity on his brother's remorse and dismiss this whole night as a silly mistake they could laugh off come morning.
It would be easy. And it would be a lie. This was already out in the open—an impossible secret they both knew they could never go back from.
Seimei crossed his arms, leaning against the desk with his back turned to Haruaki. "You shouldn't have said any of it," he agreed bluntly. "You have no idea what you're asking for."
Haruaki winced. "I know. I'm an idiot." He shuffled his feet, hesitant. "...But I still meant it. Every word."
Seimei closed his eyes. Damn his brother and his damn honesty... his ability to strip away masks and pretenses like paper, until he laid bare everything Seimei tried so hard to hide.
Haruaki waited a second and then said, "Susano-san has asked Dōman-san for my hand in marriage. Please approve it."
Seimei's eyes snapped open.
He whirled around, staring at his brother in disbelief. The cold anger that filled him was sharp and familiar, like a blade being unsheathed.
"What did you just say?"
Haruaki swallowed, but held his older brother's gaze stubbornly. "You heard me. I'm going to marry Susano-no-Mikoto-sama."
Seimei clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his voice even. "Are you insane? He's a literal god of destruction and bad luck!"
Haruaki flinched but lifted his chin, determination glinting in his eyes. "It's an advantageous match. A union of two powerful clans—"
"And a waste of your life," Seimei cut in harshly. "You're not just a pawn on a go board, Haruaki."
"I know that!" Haruaki snapped back, anger finally flaring into his voice. "But I'm tired of everyone making decisions for me—deciding who I'm supposed to be, what I'm supposed to do—"
"That's because I'm protecting you, you idiot," Seimei retorted. "That's my job, since you seem hell-bent on throwing yourself into danger."
"Oh, I forgot," Haruaki shot back, his own temper rising now. "Because you think you know what's best for me, and I'm just a clueless little brother who doesn't understand the world."
Seimei bristled at the accusation. "And what makes you think marrying Susano-no-Mikoto is a good idea? Aside from your own reckless impulsiveness?"
"Maybe it's not a good idea," Haruaki conceded heatedly, "but it's my idea. My choice. Something you've never let me have."
Seimei grit his teeth, fighting the urge to grab his brother and shake some sense into him. "Your choice is going to get you killed."
Haruaki let out a sharp laugh, laced with bitterness. "Is that why you've been protecting me all this time? Because you think I'm too fragile? Too stupid to survive without your constant supervision?"
Seimei's eyes narrowed, stung by the accusation. "I never said that—"
Haruaki barreled onward, his words heated now. "Just admit it, nii-san. You can't stand the fact that I might make a decision you don't approve of. You want me to stay your obedient, ignorant little brother, forever in your shadow—"
"Stop it," Seimei said, his voice low but dangerous. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Haruaki didn't stop. He stepped forward, eyes blazing with years of pent-up frustration.
"I'm not a child anymore! I can fight, I can think for myself—and yes, I can choose who to love!"
Seimei froze.
Love.
The word hung in the air between them like a blade.
"You don't love Susano," he said coldly. "You're doing this to spite me."
"Is it really so hard to believe that I could love somebody besides you?" Haruaki retorted. "That maybe—just maybe—I want a life that doesn't revolve around you?"
Seimei flinched but masked it quickly with anger. "You're being ridiculous. You can't just throw everything away for—"
"For what?" Haruaki challenged, stepping closer. "For my own happiness? How is that ridiculous?"
Seimei's hands balled into fists. "Because happiness isn't that simple! This isn't some fairytale, Haruaki. Real life... is complicated."
Haruaki let out a scoff. "You're just scared," he accused softly. "Scared that maybe I can find happiness without you."
Seimei clenched his jaw. He wouldn't—couldn't—admit how true that was. How the thought of losing his brother to someone else—to someone as destructive and volatile as Susano—was like a knife twisting in his gut.
"It's not about me," he ground out. "It's about your safety. Your future."
Haruaki stared at him, then laughed—short and sad. "That’s the thing, nii-san… my future is with you. Or it was meant to be." He lowered his voice, almost breaking. “But if you can’t see that… maybe I really do need to leave.”
He turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him—leaving Seimei alone in the silence.
Seimei stood frozen, his heart pounding like it wanted to break free of his chest. The air felt too thin, his breath coming too fast.
That final whisper—my future is with you—echoed through his mind like a curse.
He stumbled forward and braced himself against the desk, fingers gripping so hard they trembled.
"Damn it," he whispered hoarsely. "Damn it all."
Because now he knew—the truth was no longer something he could bury or deny.
Haruaki wasn't just some fleeting temptation.
He was everything.
And Seimei had spent years pretending otherwise.
The realization hit him like a wave, pulling him under.
He was a fool—a damned, stupid, cruel fool who'd thought he could keep his heart locked away safely.
But that wasn't how feelings worked, was it? They didn't stay contained neatly behind walls. They grew. They changed. They bloomed into something stronger, wilder, impossible to control.
And his feelings for Haruaki—no, the love he harbored for his younger brother... it was like a beast he'd kept chained for so long.
And now, it was raging, clawing, desperate to break free.
He loved Haruaki. Loved him fiercely, completely, possessively.
He loved the way his brother's laughter lit up a room, the way his eyes shone with excitement during sparring matches. He loved the way Haruaki would lean into his touch, seeking comfort; the way his hair felt as Seimei brushed it; the way his voice sounded when whispering goodnight.
He loved every damn part of him. And he had for years.
But he'd been so focused on protecting his brother that he'd blinded himself to the truth staring right at him.
The thought of Haruaki with someone else sent a spike of jealousy so sharp it felt like pain. He wanted to rage, to scream that Haruaki was his, and his alone.
But how could he claim someone who'd never truly been his in the first place?
The truth burned inside him, tearing at the fragile control he had so carefully maintained for so long. He had convinced himself this was just a passing infatuation, a moment of weakness. But now, looking back at all the times he had caught himself watching Haruaki, touching him unnecessarily, wanting him so fiercely that he would wake up in a cold sweat…
He had been an imbecile—a blind, selfish, pathetic fool.
He had been in love with his own brother for years, and he had not allowed himself to admit it even once.
The desk bit into his palms as he leaned forward, struggling to breathe.
His heart was racing now—not from anger, but something more like panic. Because as much as he craved Haruaki, wanted to claim him wholly as his own… he couldn’t. It was wrong, against every code of ethics, every rule of society—hell, probably against several laws.
He had a duty to protect his brother. To keep him safe, to guide him onto the right path. That was his obligation. Not this… sick, twisted desire burning in his blood.
But the thought of watching Haruaki walk down the aisle to another man—to a monster… it felt like poison seeping into his veins.
Seimei forced himself to take steadying breaths. He had survived for decades without letting these feelings surface. He could do it again. He had to.
But even as his mind screamed reason, his heart whispered a different language.
Haru, Haru, Haruaki!
His thoughts spun, a chaotic mess of conflicting emotions. He knew he had to stop this. He knew he had to be the rational one—the one who kept things under control.
But his mind kept replaying that moment earlier, when Haruaki’s face had been inches from his, the moonlight illuminating his features like some ethereal vision.
It would have been so easy to close the distance between them, to claim those flushed, parted lips with his own—to taste the sweetness of his brother’s mouth, to feel his breath hitch in surprise…
His Haruaki.
"I can't…" Seimei muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. "I can't lose him."
And in that moment, something within him shattered.
He couldn’t marry Haruaki off to another.
He couldn’t watch someone else touch what was his.
He couldn’t pretend this was just duty anymore.
With a sudden, decisive movement, he yanked open the drawer again and grabbed the forbidden spellbook—but this time, he didn’t look for Byōkyaku no Ai.
Instead, he flipped past it… searching for a different page entirely—the one hidden deeper within, titled:
"Chi no Tsunagari to Kizuna: The Blood Bond of Eternal Union."
He had never paid special attention to this page before. It was old, outdated magic—considered dark and taboo even among the onmyōji.
It didn’t take away memories, like the page he had been about to use on himself. Instead, it would tie their souls together permanently. It would bind them so deeply that even death wouldn’t break the connection.
As the words on the page took on new, terrible meaning, Seimei let out a bitter laugh.
He had spent years trying to keep Haruaki safe—
—by trapping him.
His hands didn’t even tremble as he began to read the ancient text. His mind was clear. Razor-sharp.
This was the only way.
The bond would make them closer than brothers. Closer than lovers. It would be the final protection he could offer.
It would keep Haruaki right where he was meant to be, tied to him in every way that mattered.
Seimei continued to read. The words sounded like the ticking of a clock counting down.
“…the Blood Bond is not to be entered lightly… the consequences and sacrifices are permanent….”
The words blurred slightly, the text swimming before his eyes.
Sacrifices.
Seimei was no stranger to sacrifices. He had given up everything in the name of protecting Haruaki. He had given up his childhood, his innocence, any chance at a normal life.
This would just be another item to add to the list.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pressed his fingertips against the ancient script.
He could feel the power humming—a low thrum like a heartbeat.
Binding them.
Seimei felt the magic flow through him, a dark heat like molten metal.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright despite the dizziness that swept through him.
As he spoke the closing lines of the spell, the power spiked, making him stagger. He felt as if there were a string tugging at his soul, a connection forming between him and—
His bedroom door opened.
He froze, his voice cutting off mid-sentence, his eyes darting to the figure standing in the doorway.
It was Haruaki.
Haruaki stood there, eyes wide and disheveled, as if he had just run. In the faint light spilling in from the hallway, he looked vulnerable, open—a rabbit caught in a hunter’s snare.
Their gazes locked, silence stretching between them like a taut wire. Seimei could feel the tension crackling in the air, the magic still pulsing through him.
Haruaki’s gaze flicked down to the book clutched in Seimei’s hands. There was a flicker of realization—of understanding—in his expression, followed by horror.
“What have you…” He took a step forward. “Oh God, nii-san… what have you done?”
Seimei tried to speak, but his tongue felt like lead. The magic was still coursing through him, his body heavy, his thoughts spinning.
Haruaki rushed forward, reaching out to grab him as he staggered.
His hands caught Seimei by the shoulders, fingers gripping tightly.
For a moment, Seimei allowed himself to lean into that touch—to close his eyes and just… feel him.
Haruaki’s hands were warm, firm. They grounded him, held him up when he was close to collapse.
This was how it should have been. This was the closeness they should have had.
“Nii-san… look at me,” Haruaki whispered urgently.
Reluctantly, Seimei obeyed. His eyes flickered open, meeting Haruaki’s gaze.
Haruaki’s expression was unreadable—shocked, devastated, furious. But still…
With his brother so close, the magic between them seemed to thrum even louder. Seimei could feel every beat of Haruaki’s heart, every ragged breath—as if they were his own.
“You… fool,” Haruaki said lowly, his grip tightening. “You absolute fool.”
Seimei tried to find his voice again, to explain—but the magic’s hold had him caught in its jaws, making him weak and sluggish.
Haruaki’s eyes filled with something that was almost pain. His hands shook against Seimei’s shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh.
“Do you even understand what you’ve done? You’ve tied us together. Forever. Inseparable.”
Seimei managed a weak nod, his throat too dry to speak. That had been the entire point, after all. He had wanted to keep Haruaki close—keep him safe.
Haruaki let out a shaky exhale, staring at him with an expression somewhere between anger and despair. “You had no right. No right.”
Seimei tried to focus, to fight against the fog clouding his mind. He had to make his brother understand.
“I had to…” he managed to croak.
“Had to what?” Haruaki demanded, his voice rising. “Steal my future? Lock me in some cursed bond without even asking?”
Seimei flinched.
“It’s not like that—” he tried.
“Then what is it like, nii-san?” Haruaki’s voice broke. “Tell me—what kind of love is this? One that chains instead of frees? That controls instead of trusts?”
His hands slipped from Seimei’s shoulders down to his arms, holding him as if afraid he might fall apart.
“I… love you,” Seimei whispered, the words raw and torn from somewhere deep inside.
Haruaki froze.
The room went utterly still.
“You… what?” Haruaki’s voice was barely a breath.
Seimei closed his eyes. The spell pulsed inside him, but so did the truth—finally unchained.
“I love you,” he said again, stronger this time. “Not as a brother should. I never have.”
Haruaki’s grip tightened—not in anger now, but something deeper, more desperate.
“And you thought… binding me like this was the only way to keep me?” His voice cracked. “You coward.”
Seimei didn’t deny it.
He opened his eyes, meeting Haruaki’s gaze with quiet surrender.
“…Yes.”
Haruaki let out a broken sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“You’re an idiot.” His hands slid down to Seimei’s wrists, holding him in a grip that would surely leave bruises.
“A heartless, stupid idiot who keeps everyone at a distance because he’s too scared of getting hurt.”
Seimei tried to protest, but Haruaki didn’t let him. His fingers tightened.
“You didn’t do this for me. You didn’t do it to protect me. You did it for yourself.”
Haruaki cried nonstop as he used his own healing powers to cure Seimei.
His tears fell freely as he poured his healing energy into him, the soft glow of his power wrapping around them like a fragile light. It wasn’t just mending the strain of the dark spell—it was a quiet rebellion against the bond that sought to chain them.
“I’m not letting you die because you’re too much of a coward to tell me how you feel,” Haruaki whispered through broken breaths. “And I’m definitely not letting some cursed magic decide my future.”
Seimei stirred weakly, feeling warmth seep back into his limbs—but more than that, feeling him. Haruaki’s touch, so gentle despite his rage. His voice, shaking but unwavering.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Haruaki was glaring down at him—eyes red from crying, lips pressed into a thin line—and yet… he still hadn’t let go.
“Idiot,” he said again, softer this time. “You should’ve just kissed me when I asked.”
Seimei almost laughed. He wanted to reach up and wipe those tears away. The bond might have tied them together, but the way his brother was looking at him now felt nothing short of a miracle.
“Maybe I should have,” he admitted hoarsely. “Would’ve saved us both a night full of regrets.”
Haruaki huffed, though the anger was bleeding out of him now, leaving something more vulnerable behind.
“Don’t joke,” he muttered. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I know,” Seimei said softly. “You have every right to be.”
He reached up—slowly, carefully—to brush a thumb across Haruaki’s cheek, catching a stray tear.
Haruaki didn’t pull away.
The air between them changed again—softer, warmer. The weight of the bond was still there… but now it felt less like chains and more like something else entirely.
A chance. A beginning.
Unfortunately, Haruaki was weaker than Seimei, and thus his soul extinguished in front of him.
“No.”
Seimei sat up, the last of his strength surging forward like instinct. His hand found Haruaki’s arm and gripped it tightly. “You can’t—I won’t let you—damn it, Haruaki, you can’t—”
Haruaki’s gaze had gone hazy, unfocused. The glow from his healing power was flickering, dimming.
“S-Seimei…” He managed a small, pained smile. “I think I… messed up a little… hehe….”
“Shut up,” Seimei’s voice cracked. “You’re going to be fine. You have to be.”
His hands trembled as he tried to push his own energy into Haruaki—anything to stabilize him, but it was too late. The bond pulsed between them, and now it screamed with pain.
Haruaki had given too much. His soul—fragile and kind as it was—had burned too brightly trying to fix what Seimei had broken.
“Nii… san…” Haruaki whispered, his fingers twitching toward him before falling limp.
“NO!”
Seimei lunged forward, catching him as he collapsed, turning into dust—not a brother saving another from death this time… but a man watching the center of his world go dark.
“Hold on! Please—I’ll undo everything! I’ll destroy the spell! Just stay with me!”
But Haruaki’s breath slowed.
And then—
Stillness.
Seimei let out a raw, broken cry that echoed through the room. He pulled Haruaki’s fading form into his arms, clutching him as if he could somehow hold his soul together by sheer will.
The bond between them flared—not as magic now, but as agony.
He could feel it—Haruaki was gone. Not dead… not exactly. His soul had simply… vanished from existence, extinguished like a flame in a storm.
And Seimei was left with an unbearable truth:
He had tried to bind the one person he loved most…
And in doing so—he had destroyed him.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly, his sworn enemy, materialized from thin air, Tensei, offered him a solution: if Seimei died and crossed the reincarnation cycle—giving up his life for Haruaki—then Haruaki could live again in the future, but he would forget everything about Seimei and his previous life.
Seimei held Haruaki’s lifeless remains, his mind torn and shattered. His heart screamed in protest at the thought of such a sacrifice—of erasing Haruaki’s memories and everything they had once shared…
But the emptiness in his arms was worse than any torture.
Finally, he steeled himself.
“One more chance,” he murmured, touching his forehead to Haruaki’s remains. “Just one more time, I’ll find you in another life.”
He gently laid the dust onto the floor, then stood. His voice rang out, cold and steady despite the pain.
“Tensei. I accept your terms.”
A bitter smile touched his lips.
“Take my life. Break my soul from this world… so long as his can live again.”
Wind howled through the room—one moment still, the next chaos—as Tensei’s presence settled like frost on glass.
“You understand,” Tensei said slowly, “that you will not be remembered? That Haruaki will walk a new path… untouched by grief, untouched by love? And you… will cease to exist?”
Seimei closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Then it is done.”
Seimei’s fingers curled into fists.
“…Wait—don’t involve my familiars or Dōman.”
The fox yōkai giggled and summoned other yōkai to kill Seimei—painfully.
Unfortunately, Ashiya Dōman, Abe no Seimei’s sworn rival and an excellent onmyōji himself, was dragged into this tragic mess.
Tensei influenced Dōman to kill Seimei.
The air turned to ice.
Before Seimei could react, a searing pain ripped through his back—Dōman’s cursed blade plunged deep, driven by an unseen force. He choked, blood flooding his mouth as he collapsed to his knees.
Dōman stood behind him, his eyes wide with horror—not from guilt, but resistance. His hands trembled on the hilt.
“S-Seimei… I—I didn’t—!” His voice cracked. “This control… I can’t—stop—!”
Seimei coughed violently, crimson splattering the floor. The bond with Haruaki flared one last time—a final echo of warmth before it shattered completely.
He looked up through blurred vision at Dōman—the man who had always hated him, yet stood beside him in quiet understanding for decades… now forced to become his executioner.
“It’s… not your fault…” Seimei rasped, his face slightly downcast but smiling faintly. “I… have to… save… my dear Haruaki…”
Dōman screamed—not in triumph, but in anguish—as Tensei twisted deeper into his mind and forced the blade further.
And then…
Silence.
As the last breath left Seimei’s lips, the bond between Haruaki’s soul and his own shattered into a thousand fragments of light—the magic that once bound them together now freed, scattering like sparks in the wind.
It was beautiful. Enchanting.
And so it was that, on that cold, lonely night, the great onmyōji Seimei and the one he loved most perished together—one by his own choice, the other by his beloved rival’s blade, cursing Dōman to lose one eye in the process, marked with the symbol of Abe no Seimei’s household.
But their sacrifice had not been in vain.
For Haruaki’s soul was reborn, and Seimei was able to live alongside him in the future—taking on the identity of his ancestor, existing as another personality or soul.
Seimei opened his eyes to find himself in a field of sunflowers, the sun warm on his skin.
“Huh?” He sat up, disoriented. The last thing he remembered was—
He froze, staring in shock at his surroundings. Everything looked so real—he could feel the grass beneath his palms, smell the sweet scent of flowers in the air…
Was he dreaming? Or…
The sound of childish laughter broke the silence. Seimei’s head snapped toward it.
And there, standing in the field, was Haruaki—smiling dazzlingly at another boy with blonde hair and blue eyes.
Seimei’s breath caught.
The boy—tall, bright-eyed, unfamiliar yet achingly familiar in some hidden corner of his soul—reached for Haruaki’s hand and pulled him into a spinning game under the golden sun. Haruaki laughed freely, his face glowing with innocence untouched by sorrow or sacrifice.
Seimei stood frozen. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. His body felt lighter… younger. Not his, exactly—but close. Like an echo wearing another’s skin.
And then it hit him:
He had not been reborn as himself—but as one of Haruaki’s ancestors, living through a borrowed life. A ghost behind the eyes of another, restrained by a pearl bracelet.
But this was enough.
Because Haruaki was alive.
Smiling.
Breathing.
Free.
Even if he didn’t remember Seimei…
Even if he held another’s hand…
He was happy.
And that—was all that ever mattered.