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awlumii · 1 year

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TO YOU, FOUR YEARS FROM NOW

for @soleillunne : kaedehara kazuha + “in tune with all our dreams.”

kaedehara kazuha x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2k.

content: heart-wrenching angst to fluff + modern au. suggestive.

this idea occurred to me last night, and because you like angst, i thought, ‘why not?’ it may have come out somewhat messy, but i still hope you like it, aly, love ! <3

reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

his words crash against you like waves breaking against sharp jutting rocks.

he’s leaving. tomorrow first thing in the morning. he’s departing to study on a whole different country for the next four years, at least.

your childhood playmate, turned best friend, turned boyfriend.

kaedehara kazuha is going away and you can do nothing about it.

your emotions twist nightmarishly inside your heart, venomous ice you didn’t know you were capable of spreading through your bloodstream.

the cruel sentence is out of your lips before you can think about it.

“we’re breaking up. goodbye, kazuha.”

you don’t bother to turn around when your now ex-boyfriend reaches for your wrist, his hold slack when you pull away. you don’t respond when he calls you that nickname he gave you all those years back when you were still hopeful kids.

kazuha is left there, standing alone, a breeze now unwelcome prickling coldly against the back of his exposed neck.

raindrops of shattered dreams start falling from the midnight sky. you are grateful for them, your tears will be less conspicuous that way.

that night silence fills your darkened room. no text messages or calls come through, no beacon of hope awaits you tomorrow either when you awake to a grey dull sky.

it’s better this way, you think, as you start to get ready for your day.

—

miles above ground, it feels like hell, kazuha thinks.

the boy stares blankly at his phone, screen pitch black. there were no notifications from you today as morning dawned in teary colorless hues.

for the first time in almost two decades, kazuha is at a loss for words.

why did he wait so long to tell you about this? sure, it’s his dream to pursue his passion for literature, but why did he have to tell you something so huge last minute?

he wanted to surprise you with his gift. now it only weighs ominously inside his backpack.

with the ebb and flow of the plane, kazuha closes his eyes. images of you on the edges of shattered mirrors are all the company his dreams can offer.

—

you miss him. badly.

months have gone by, and you still can’t wrap your head around the reason behind your decision that night.

maybe you wanted to avoid missing kazuha, needing him, like you do now. perhaps you deemed yourself just a distraction for him at that moment.

what you are certain of, however, is that, like this, you are a mess.

on late evenings, you find yourself staring out the window, as if by doing so, the boy you still love would show up out of nowhere.

when taxis stop, you perk up, just to chide yourself internally; kazuha is not magically arriving in one of them, he is no longer your prince charming.

forgetting about kazuha altogether might be for the best, you decide, after tilting your head upwards in the bus for the thousandth time when new passengers come in.

you should focus on the book you have to read for class, right now, you muse internally, directing your gaze back to the pages.

—

four years have passed since that eventful night. and as time has ran by, new memories have made their way into your mind; new friends, graduation, part time jobs and lovers that didn’t last.

you’ve been well, mostly.

however, the shards of your broken dreams with kazuha are still safely kept behind stained glass doors into the chambers of your heart. every now and then, they like to lodge into the ridges of the unclosed wound, waking you up in starless nights, with his name in your lips the moment your tear stained lashes open.

but as you’ve been doing for years, you dismiss them, trying to focus instead on the titles in front of you.

reading’s been your most trusty companion these last years, your visits to the local bookstore frequent on weekends. searching for new releases or old undiscovered gems, dreaming about laughing, or crying, or both, to the tune of the words… it’s exciting, in a way. it also keeps the vault of bittersweet dreams more or less locked, when your thoughts travel to distant lands on board of book pages.

sighing to yourself, your fingers graze the various tomes of the poetry section.

one of them makes you stop in your tracks.

‘unsent letters to my dove.’

and it’s the last part of the golden embossed sentence that causes for your heart to momentarily stop.

he used to call you that.

but it can’t be him, can it?

with trembling hands, you reach for the volume. the covers are crimson red leather, soft to the touch. golden lettering spells out the title, reminiscent of long gone sunlit afternoons that smell of childhood. an intricate pattern of maple leaves is drawn around the margins.

maple leaves. his favorite.

you breath catches in your throat when you open the hardcover and your eyes land on the dedication written in italics on the first page:

“to my beloved hummingbird, i’m sorry i couldn’t give this to you four years ago. wherever you are now, i dedicate this collection to you.”

that childhood nickname. that’s what he called you. that’s what you didn’t respond to the night you walked away from him.

no. this must be just coincidence.

you’re just being delusional.

you better check the author, yes, that will surely clear things out.

going back to the cover, there it is, in swirling coppery calligraphy: k. isshin.

that wasn’t his name. however, it doesn’t stop your hold on the book from going slack, you and the copy almost dropping to the ground if it weren’t for the person that suddenly stabilizes you with one arm around your waist, and catches the book with the other.

isshin. didn’t he tell you something long ago about a certain art from his ancestors being referred to by that name?

you don’t have time to ruminate on it for long before an all too familiar voice interrupts all train of thought.

“are you okay?” the boy that’s been intermittently haunting your dreams for the past four years asks.

his voice is still as soft as you remember it, though deeper, with a newfound warmth and richness to it.

it doesn’t help your already racing heart.

“i… i-i’m… fine.” you manage, at the same time your eyes meet his.

shooting stars flash before the sunsets of his gaze when recognition crosses his perfectly sculpted features.

you’re even prettier than he remembers. the memories he’s cherished and old pictures in his phone definitely can’t do justice to the you standing right before him now.

for a few instants, you just stand there, the book still held between yours and his hand. you are simply lost in every detail of kazuha, the boy you left standing under the midnight rain once. kazuha, your ex-boyfriend. kazuha, the boy you never stopped loving.

kazuha, who has written a whole book about you, it seems.

“you… ah… you almost dropped this.” kazuha suddenly breaks the awkward silence, pushing the hardcover into your hands, his cheeks a pretty shade of red, like the poppy fields through which you and him used to run.

“i… uh, yeah… thank you.” you make to walk towards the register to pay for it, but a hand gently holds your wrist.

this time, you turn around.

for a second, kazuha hesitates, his body having reacted as if on autopilot, as if his heartstrings commanded his soul to not let go of you ever again.

“are you free after this?” he asks. it’s uncommon, the way he almost mumbles it, eyes of embers not quite meeting yours.

he is aware this question is playing with fire, and flinches after a few moments pass and no reply leaves your lips.

then:

“sure.” you say, nodding. “have somewhere in mind? if not, we can go to my place.”

“sounds good to me.” he smiles, gently.

it’s pouring when you exit the shop. this time, you stay together under his red umbrella.

the trip to your apartment is mostly silent. there are too many feelings to unpack, too many apologies you wish to say, too many questions.

and the book, safely tucked under your coat, protected from the rain as if it was a precious treasure.

—

“make yourself at home.” you comment, as you open the door to your home. setting the book over the coffee table, you rummage around the kitchen for some snacks.

meanwhile, kazuha loses himself observing how much of you there is in your modest home: some of your favorite books thrown here and there; a spare cardigan similar to the one you always loved to steal from him; pictures with some of your college friends… this little space is filled with the sweet breeze of your scent, one in which kazuha would gladly drown.

when you come back from the kitchen, tea and cookies in hand, to find him standing there, your cheeks heat up.

“i apologize for the mess.” is what your lips speak, yet ‘i’d like for him to stand here every day’ are the true words of your heart.

“not at all.” kazuha offers. “it’s quite charming and cozy in here.”

“ah… thank you.” is all you can manage without excessively stuttering. busying yourself setting the plates, you take your chance to ask:

“that book. you wrote it, didn’t you?”

silence settles between you both again, tension palpable in the air, an invisible wall that didn’t use to be there years ago.

“so you noticed…” kazuha muses, melancholy evident in his tone. “i- that night-”

“i’m sorry.” you snap before he can continue further. “about that night. i was stupid. i hurt and left you, all out of my own impulsivity and egoism.” your hands tighten around the tea-cup you are holding. taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for the words you’re going to say next. “so i understand if you hate me now. i… i was mean to you, kazuha. i don’t deserve your friendship anymore and-”

his warm calloused hand comes to rest on top of yours, the frenzied string of words leaving the mouth he used to kiss, cut off.

“you are right, you don’t.” kazuha pauses, the scarlet lakes of his glance, ablaze with longing. his thumb traces your lower lip. your breath catches at the back of your throat. you want to utter his name, yet no sound comes out. then: “you deserve more than that, my hummingbird.” he almost breathes, in the few inches separating both of your ardently longing lips.

the invisible wall between the both of you has just shattered.

without knowing exactly how or what instant, his lips end up on yours, drinking in every version of you. your hands lose in the now longer strands of his smooth hair, their color, the same as the moonlight that sang the melody of your first kiss years ago.

now, kazuha kisses you with a new ardor, as if he’s trying to memorize you by touch alone, were the stars to fade away.

the cracked edges of the dreams you tore down that fateful night beg to be let out from the opaque case in which you’ve kept them all these years.

and, soon enough, the instant kaedehara kazuha undresses you with a softness you wouldn’t have believed possible even in your wildest dreams, the vault opens.

your hands ridding him of his garments are the wave of magic wand needed to set you and him in tune with all your fervent dreams once more.

“dove” falls from kazuha’s lips again and again and again, the waves of his praise, a mantra that softly caresses the pink sand beaches of a paradise only he is able to bring you to.

the skies no longer cry, you and kazuha, its most wondrous and intricate constellation. formed of stars seemingly apart from each other, brought close by a fate greater than the verses your poet writes could explain.

a sliver of moon illuminates the cover of your lover’s eulogies to you.

you slumber sweetly in kazuha’s arms. in your dreams, he reads you his poems.

maybe, tomorrow, that will become your perfect reality.

#[ 📚 — library! ]#i'm gonna fall apart at the seams #brb disintegrating

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awlumii · 1 year

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“Have we met?” “In another life, perhaps.”

🍁 — [ C: Kaedehara Kazuha. ] 👤 — [ R: gender neutral reader. ] 🏷️ — [ T: fluff, reincarnation, soulmates. ] 📜 — [ T: fic. ]

You first meet Kazuha at a farmer's market, perhaps. It's not really clear. He has his very own shop, with jars and jars of bottled honey shimmering like gold in the sunshine. Maybe you didn't actually need or want honey, but he smiles at you, something ethereal lined in the faint crow's feet by his eyes, and you gravitate to his stall.

"There's a lot of bees here." You observe.

Large honeybees loop almost drunkenly through the air, crawl around on the jars, and a few of them nudge gently at Kazuha's shoulders.

"They know me." Kazuha said, a laugh woven into his voice. "Perhaps they want to know if their honey is selling well."

He opens a jar of honey labelled as samples and dips a spoon in, pouring the golden liquid over his fingers. The bees flock to them, and he smiles at you.

"Curious little things, honeybees." Kazuha says mildly, brushing his fingers across his faded red scarf. "They're harmless, really, but everyone thinks they're scary."

The second time you see Kazuha is in a park. He's feeding the ducks, sitting on a park bench with a beam of sunlight slanting almost perfectly onto him. The ducks swarm around him, and you take a seat beside him. He silently hands you a crust of bread, and you scatter it among the birds.

"It's supposed to be cloudy outside." You say. The sun glows above you. There is a cool wind blowing.

"It is." Kazuha agrees mildly. "The weather is particularly fickle."

You laugh. "You talk like you're not human."

"Do I look human?"

You look at Kazuha. Honestly, truly looked at him. He didn't seem to exude an otherworldly aura, but the way his hair glowed in the sun, turning into a fuzzy, white-gold halo around his head certainly made him look ethereal. His eyes were curved into crescent moons, and he had a gentle smile on his face.

"You look ethereal."

"And you look lovely as well, my dear."

The third time, Kazuha was working in a cat cafe. He practically materialises beside you, looking inside where he had been a second ago.

"Hello again." He smiles, soft and secretive. All of his smiles were as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa.

"Hi, Kazuha. Change of careers again?"

He shrugs. "They were going to close down. All of these cats with nowhere to go… I couldn't stand by and let that happen."

"I suppose I must contribute."

Kazuha nods, his smile widening into something more genuine. "I suppose you must. We make a delightful black tea here, if you'd like. Or one of the house specials?"

"I'll defer to your judgement, Kazuha."

The first time you met Kazuha—the real first time—was in a meadow in Inazuma. On the outskirts of Ritou, where the wood smoke dissipated into something sweeter and the crickets chirped duets with the wind.

Kazuha looked different than he looked now. He was more carefree. His hair was longer, brushing his waist, and he was dressed in autumn. Reds, browns, brilliant orange against a backdrop of white.

"Hello." You greeted him. He nods at you and offers you a sweet smile.

That was how all your meetings went. He would walk with you the moment you stepped out of Ritou, and follow you all the way to Inazuma City. There, he would wave you goodbye, and by night, he would be there again, forever dressed in autumn.

"Aren't you cold?" You asked him. Kazuha looked taken aback for a moment before he shook his head. He always seemed to be untouched by the elements, his robes always a pristine white.

Well, that wouldn't do.

You find him at his usual spot, five days later. He was seated on a rock, coaxing a melody out of a flute that he had definitely whittled. His eyes followed you around like a curious animal, and he blinked slowly when you stepped closer.

"Here. I made this for you." You unfold the scarf carefully and wrap it around his neck, knotting it neatly and standing back to admire it.

Kazuha touched the scarf gently and then smiled. "There's a loose thread here."

"Oh, really? I must have missed it when I was making it." You watched as Kazuha teased it out and tied it around his pinky. He beckoned you forward and looped the end of the thread around your pinky, tying it off with a flourish.

"A red string of fate, made by you and me." Kazuha laid his hand over yours and smiled. "So that we will find each other in every lifetime."

The fifth (thousandth) time you met Kazuha, it was on the beach. The sea rushed to shore, only to retreat from Kazuha's feet like he was an untouchable god.

"All these years… you've been waiting for me, haven't you?" You said.

Kazuha smiled. "I didn't want to rush you, my dear. I've lived hundreds of lives, and in each one, I made sure you savoured your life."

"I'm here now." You lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to his pinky, the same one that tied him to you so many years ago.

#[ 📚 — library! ]#WAIT WAIT WAIT SHUT UP I FEEL LIKE I'VE READ THIS BEFORE #HAS SOMEONE SENT ME A DRAFT ASK OF THIS?#I DIDNT EVEN READ IT ALL THE WAY THROUGH BUT IM VIBRATING #THIS IDEA WAS SO CUTE PLEASEEKDNSKDBD

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awlumii · 1 year

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Helloooooo. May I request an angst fic with comfort with Kazuha? I find not much angst Kazuha fic so.... If it is too hard, you can change to another character (or if you like so).

The idea here is... maybe.... forget a special occasion? Im bad at idea lmao, so you can write any idea you want

Thanksss so much

-UwU anon-

esteemed guest [gn/m.reader]

yo boi’s here to answer some requests because i have been pent-up from my workload ughhh. thank u UwU anon for this lovely request, i have been meaning to write for our dearest samurai <3, also this was supposed to be a normal “i forgot your bday” trope… but… the drama queen in me could never live that down. so please… bear with this dramatic one-shot, i hope you don’t mind the drastic trope change (pls don’t be mad). definitely did not write this while listening to susato’s alt theme serenade. ugh. her chara theme song is too good.

𖦹 moderate angst, hurt/comfort, non-linear style story, descender reader (i kinda miss writing for an otherworldly reader, which i remember the last one was xiao’s), mentions of death, i heavily romanticized loneliness

To wait is to face the bittersweetness of the lonely company. It is to welcome the nights of coldness with no one to keep you warm. It is to embrace what little left of time in between your meetings, always often ending in promises that are to be kept despite the odds.

To wait is to painstakingly nurse the hope within you that he will come back.

And to you, Kazuha is worth the wait. He always will be — from the very first time you and him met until the last breaths that you could manage should he be there for you on your death bed. Though you had every confidence that death is something not to worry about, it does leave you relatively concerned at the prospect of passing without even having to chat with your most endeared companion.

Kazuha was your everything, he pulled you out of that loneliness that you were slowly sinking into, giving into the depths with a warm embrace as you resided in the desolate islands of this broken apart nation. He was just a wandering ronin, hiding away from the prying eyes of the shogunate, and you were quite literally not from this world, taking refuge in an unknown place in a world you only took a chance at to flee from the atrocities of your own home.

Quite frankly, you and Kazuha were both rifts adrift at sea, only to find solace in each other’s loneliness and somber company, both grief-stricken and exasperated after being trapped in the throes of your own lives.

Your status from your home meant nothing now, but even that was something that you can forgive and forget as long as the samurai in exile was by your side, visiting you every so often with a small smile on his face, offering you the company that you can only long for after having it so cruelly taken away from you in your isolation.

So to wait… to wait was nothing. It was something that you can bear through — dressed in your finest robes, under that familiar big tree by the shore where your lonesome house stood, you would wait for him to make good on his promise of companionship.

But never had you expected that it would be soon that he would break his promise, leaving you by your prying thoughts that were so needlessly merciless, undying and full of doubts that ate away at you. You figured it was the loneliness that was plaguing you that must have caused it. It was madness — pure, unadulterated insanity where you had no hopes of climbing out of. It felt like a vortex pulling you in.

However this time, your samurai’s gentle hands would not come to hold yours to the rescue.

The first time he’d forgotten your promise was when you finally mustered the courage to share him a piece of your home world — a mere recreation of a dish from your family, which was honored by most people as it was prepared and ate by people of your status back then, in a way it was as if to introduce him to the family you’ve deserted, the family that would have loved him so, so much.

You’ve foraged through the entire island of Tatarasuna on that day, waking up before the sun could make an appearance just to make the most of the day. It was often that Kazuha would arrive by the day to have as much time with you after all, and the thought was enough to make you feel giddy. You ought to create a good Teyvat rendition of your family’s cuisine and so went on a trip, trying to find substitutions to the entire recipe (you’ve yet to see which ones were poisoned, considering the fact that your body can be a little bit different compared to the residents of this world).

Your heart was filled to the brim with elation and excitement coursed through your veins as you prepared your proxy delicacy in hopes to share a piece of yourself to Kazuha. He had done so much for you these recent months, and cooking a favored dish of his was one of the gestures that you can hardly forget. And you ought to return it with the same amount of love and care as the one you’ve felt from him.

You finished your dish with pure satisfaction — now all that was left was to wait for him.

And so you waited, and waited, and waited. Until the night fell with no traces of the ronin, leaving you perplexed.

Your gaze drifted to the dish that you created, finally taking a spoon and taking a good bite out of it.

Your eyebrows furrowed — there was something lacking, “…Hm. Not sweet enough,” you murmured before getting up to write down the things you could improve on.

That day passed in the company of nothing and a not-so-sweet dish.

The second time he broke your promise was the day you ventured out into the city of Inazuma. Although exiled, Kazuha made no reservations in telling you about the city of his beloved nation — it was bustling with people in the day, yet as quiet as a ghost town at night. Everyone worked on clockwork and always seemed to have a tight schedule to follow. Kazuha was a free-spirit and often moved against it, following the wind’s will and his for the most part.

You remember chastising him about the importance of punctuality, but Kazuha managed to weasel out of it by serenading you with yet another romantic poetry that held no destination nor a dedication. You often told him that clothing told stories of different variations — some told tragedies, some with honor, and some with the fiery passion of romance.

“I’m rather curious about this new form of storytelling…” you could feel your skin tingle as Kazuha’s hand ghosted over the nape of your neck, gazing at you with something you can only decipher as a gentle adoration that left a feeling that stirred within your core. It almost rendered you tight-lipped, only to realize that he was implying something.

You remember almost losing the composure of someone of your status (no doubt your family tutor would smack your palms if they saw you), eyes blown wide as your jaw stuttered out an unintelligible gibberish before sighing as the ronin laughed, “You’re… you’re lucky I know how to sew.”

“Is that an acceptance to my request?”

“I’ll make you the finest garment.” You assured him that time and sealed your promise with a smile, much like how he also promised to come back the next.

Your hands skillfully wove a thread through the hem of the sleeves — you figured taking an inspiration from your good friend’s clothing would be a way to incorporate the interwoven stories that you and him now share in this world. You would have to thank the seamstress of your family, with enough of your curious and persistence, he gave in and taught you the basics of weaving and stitching certain patterns into the fabric with a clean finish.

A fond smile crossed your face, surely despite the fact that Kazuha wasn’t able to fulfill the promised meet last time, he would make it up to you this time.

However even your self-assurance was cut short when the monstrous doubt decided to claw its way up to the surface from the deepest pits of your form, its canines sinking into you like an unforgiving beast in your home. It had you writhing in agony as the thought of your esteemed guest forgetting his promise — clutching onto you like a needy child unable to let go of its parent. It was a seed of doubt that you refused to entertain, but it was a persistent and intrusive thought.

Your frown was evident that day when the sky had fallen into soft hues of oranges and violets, the clouds crowning the sky and the sun ready to slumber like almost everyone in this nation.

The night was catching up soon and your esteemed guest is not present. It didn’t take long before a heavy feeling weighed itself on your chest, pushing you down into a familiar twinge of disappointment that you felt on the first

You remember coming back inside your abode that night, eyes narrowing as your gaze lowered to the robes you managed to finish. You tilted your head, immediately pouncing on the chance to scrutinize your own hard work.

There was a dissatisfied look on your visage, “Not vibrant enough,” you turned on your heel, brisk and swift before marching down to a much different part of the house, unable to look at your craftsmanship anymore.

The third time he had forgotten to make good on his promise, you were certain that Kazuha had long forgotten about you just as much. But there was a sliver of hope that thrived within you, a tiny flame from what little spark you have left.

A soft croon left your lips as you looked up on the moon, bathing in its soft glow that oversaw the entire nation. Your feet dug into the sandy shores nearby your desolate home, as the gentle breeze caresses your face. It was bittersweet that the wind reminded you so much of him. He spoke so highly of it and the wind itself embodied the freedom that Kazuha shouldered on his own.

“Third time’s the charm!”

You puckered your lips and blew into the leaf, barely managing to replicate the ronin’s music. Kazuha’s laughter went unnoticed as you looked at him with disdain and a face that absolutely just gave up, “Are you sure this is not a jest? I am quite certain plants cannot create music.”

He plucked the leaf from your hold and flashed you a sweet smile with mischief at the corners of his lips, “Hm? You lack technique, I’m afraid. Watch and learn.” And what you failed to do, he did so with ease and class, only rendering you speechless. You always did appreciate people that have talent, they were the best kind of people and your adoration for them never was lacking.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to make sense of his apparent technique, only to be startled when Kazuha barged into your personal space, his lips almost ghosting over yours with that unyielding grin of his — so sweet and so gentlemanly, always leaving you at the edge.

“Shall I show you how?”

Your eyes never failed to drift to your companion’s lips, tempting and supple, curved perfectly into a smile that can knock the wind out of your sails. And yet being reminded of it now… does not aid you in the slightest. He was always just a strand of hair away, it was always a paper thin distance, it was like being lured into a trap but you were far more aware than the usual, and you absolutely loathed it now.

But even under the daylight, you closed your eyes and blindly walked into it.

“…Sure.”

Third time’s the charm, indeed, you would desperately believe in it just to see your beloved ronin once more. The company that you sought after being lonely for so long. And yet, as the soft waves caressed your bare feet, even with the crows that you’ve domesticated, you found yourself wallowing in the grace of loneliness once more.

You leaned over to your rippling reflection in the water with a pout as you stewed in the growing emptiness in your heart. You reached out a hand to touch the reflection, watching yourself distort as you concluded your final thoughts.

“Maybe it’s you… who is not enough.”

That night, you never bothered returning to your home.

Time was against Kazuha as he itched with want and longing. You were just an island away now that he’s here in the city. He managed to aid the traveler’s quest and had done his friend good service as he fought against the very woman that took Tomo away from him. And now that everything quelled, he wondered if you were alright — if you were still around and still waited by him under that tree like you always did.

And even then, that was the least of his worries. You may be just an island away, but even that can’t stop anything or anyone to disturb you… or even potentially harm you in the first place.

“Kazuha! Let’s go cel— ah? Already going?” The tiny floating creature by the traveler turned to him, concerned and confused.

Kazuha only gave an apologetic smile, “Forgive me for not being in the celebration, I have to check on someone.” He couldn’t afford not having you by his side, not after having to leave you on your own. He didn’t forget, he could never forget; you were the beaming priority at the top of his head constantly.

“Must be someone so important if you’re leaving so soon! Okay! Bring them over if you have time!”

Lucky was he that he didn’t even have to ask the Alcor’s captain as she already hailed a the anchored ship for him to take. The captain might have managed to pry a thing or two about you from the samurai, after all. And for how much work he’s done in being one of the heroes in Inazuma, Beidou figured this was a reward Kazuha would be deserving of the most.

And it only took a good few hours, even less when Kazuha didn’t bother waiting on the ship’s anchoring, already jumping down from the deck to the sandy shores. Just over that cliff was your home, where you would be, safely waiting for him with that smile of yours that he hoped to dream of in every slumber of his.

“Did you know my people can die from loneliness?”

His head rose from your chest, opening an eye to peer at you (you were generous enough to lend him your body as his bed for the moment after his exhausting trip from Liyue). Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes at that time, and he wasn’t too fond of that, “What’s with this topic all of a sudden?”

“Hm? Ah. No. It’s just a fun fact.”

“Fun…?”

“Mm… I take it back.” You sighed begrudgingly, “It’s not a confirmed phenomena, however. It’s still partly a hoax. But people have seen deaths that come from the inside of our bodies, born out of nowhere but the constriction of their heart. I feel so bad for them.”

Kazuha nodded in sympathy — there was always something far more heart-wrenching at the thought of dying from loneliness. Though bittersweet, he was far more thankful that his friend went with dignity and honor. He perched his chin on your chest with a small smile, “It’s a good thing you’d never succumb to that then.”

Right. He may not have told you out loud, but it’s another promise that he forged. He will never leave you alone, and he made that decision the first moment he laid his eyes on you on that one faithful day. And Kazuha can only hope that you can be forgiving in his absence. He will tell you everything and apologize a hundred thousand times if it meant he can finally whisk you away from this.

“Though it’s sad… our world has always valued death. It’s a beautiful send off, y’know? Once we leave the plane of existence, our body dissipates in the prettiest flowers.”

Kazuha’s pace picks up as he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, perishing any form of doubt that tried to chase him in this seemingly hundred mile run.

His breathing was ragged as soon as he reached his destination, only to face complete emptiness. There was no disturbance within the air but the winds howled and he could detect a faint smell of something new. It was fragrant, almost like flowers.

The wind blew harder and he was faced with petals swirling around. His heart stopped.

Spring is still a good few months away from now.

A lone petal draped itself on his shoulder and he could barely stop the dread that soon rose through his throat as a sick bile. Bitterness burned through his throat and he could feel his stomach drop by a mile. He stewed in the silence as desperation slowly curled around him, strangling him so mercilessly.

Far too late.

Much like him back when his friend was ripped away from him by the threads of fate and life.

He fell down to his knees, unsure whether it was the weight of devastation or exhaustion that prompted him so. Numbness was slowly spreading in his body, like a poison that cannot even be stopped in the first place. His mind raced with thoughts of ‘what ifs’ of what could have been and what should have been, of what could have happened if he risked at least a day to see you once more.

“…I never forgot… I hope you knew that. I could never.”

“Ah… that’s comforting.”

In an instant, the samurai’s head shot up as he briskly looked over his shoulder and there you were, standing with a basket in hand. No doubt you’d have been foraging at this hour.

Suddenly, there was ease in his heart as he quickly stood up and ran towards you, soon finding himself completely entangled with you.

Warmth flourished in Kazuha’s chest as he clutched onto your robes tight until his knuckles turned white. There was desperation in his eyes and even he couldn’t lie as he prayed that this wasn’t a hallucination of some sort, that you were here with him and only him. And perhaps it was because he was able to save his nation from falling into a miserable fate, as his prayers were answered the moment he felt your arms wrap around him, warm, gentle, and comforting, like always.

He could feel himself getting lifted up and he refused to let go — not even just to look at you. He wasn’t one to take things for granted, especially not after the scare he just got.

“Welcome home, my most esteemed guest,” your voice was music to his ears, far better than what he could have been hearing in that celebration by the city.

“I deeply apologize for my tardiness,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, lips pressing a ghost of a kiss on your exposed skin. “I hope there is forgiveness and mercy in store for me.”

You only laughed, squeezing Kazuha in your arms tighter, just as equally afraid to let go as he is, “Of course… patience is a virtue any good host must acquire.”

“I have so much to tell…” and finally did Kazuha open his eyes, only to see the crew a few meters back, waving at him. “…And a few guests in tow.”

He finally leaned back to gaze at your face that he missed so much. In his opinion, no amount of photos can capture the absolute beauty your visage held, you were his beacon in his darkest moments, and no other person can measure up to the company that you bring him.

And you could say the same for him — even with the traces of exhaustion on your beloved samurai’s face, he exuded that gentle beauty that no one could hope to imitate in the slightest. Oh how you truly missed him.

“I’d be honored to have you.”

Kazuha hopes that you mean it in more ways than one.

#[ 📚 — library! ]#ahh..so beautifully written 💕💗

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