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The forest surrounding the village temple was over-warm at this time of year, and between the buzzing of cicadas and the shrill cry of the ibis, it was never too quiet. The sandy ground scraped and slid underfoot, turning into stone or wood pathways at some points, then veering off course. Under the shade of massive trees, Tsukishima felt some respite from the heat.
Same as the day before and the day before that (and the day before that), he made the trek through the woods to the temple after school closed for the day. He stumbled a bit when he reached an incline, sandals catching on loose roots. With a huff and a swipe of the sweat from his brow, he broke into a run, powering over the difficult ledge with all the leftover strength in his small body.
Once he made it over, he turned around, out of breath. The sight of the enormous building was enough of a reward. A place to be alone, to be away from his village. Not the temple itself—no, there were several smaller shrines and statue awnings behind the temple, places where Tsukishima could rest until the sun dipped below the horizon. He bent down and scurried past the stairs to the main building, keeping his head low until he made it back into the trees.
His shoulders finally relaxed once he pushed his way into the abandoned hut he’d found recently. It was damp and empty, with modest seating area and a few windows. The floors were dusty but not unclean, and there were two cabinets that Tsukishima had raided a few days prior. Bright light filtered through the unkempt windows and illuminated the ever-present dust in the air. Being a child, he didn’t mind the lack of pristine walls or soft sheets. All he ever wanted were four safe and sturdy walls away from Shukunegi.
When the door shut behind him, he felt the weight of the day compel him to sit, so he did, curled up on the pile of cloth he’d set up. It wasn’t long before his shoulders shook with the effort of holding back tears until, finally, the sniffles, the sobs, the embarrassment.
So stupid, Tsukishima berated himself, sinking further into the soft protection of shawls and blankets, biting his small fist to think of anything else.
Unbidden images of the day flashed in his mind. Of his mother sick in bed, of his teacher scolding him for not bringing lunch, of his classmates excluding him during playtime.
The day hadn't been that terrible, all things considered. Tsukishima usually held it together well enough, but all attempts to rationalize the feelings stuffed down his throat, the ones which threatened to spill over, were unsuccessful. The more he shook, the more frustrated he became. He didn't understand why his heart ached at their hatred or why he still yearned for a place to belong, the force of it permeating to his bones. Mulling it over, he felt even more ridiculous, embarrassed at the need to hide away in the forest.
If his father overheard him crying at home, though… No, he didn’t want to think about that.
His bottom lip trembled. Tsukishima didn’t want to think about anything any longer, only focusing on trying to stop the onslaught of fat tears and snot and drool. Lifting the side of his uniform, he wiped his face clean, not so shameless as to use these borrowed rags any more than he already had. He’d even been sure to toe off his sandals upon entering, leaving the dirt at the entrance.
As his fit subsided, it made him keenly aware of how his eyes stung and tear-stained face felt tight. The slight pound of a headache swelled in the silence.
Ignoring the pain in his head and the growl in his stomach, he turned over and blocked his eyes from the afternoon sun streaming through the dirty window. If he could sleep for a few hours, he might come home in time for the auntie next door to cook dinner for his mother and him. Father would be working at the port that night. Maybe if he was really lucky, auntie might bring them sweets.
His thoughts turned to mush as he faded into sleep. Though his nights were usually dreamless, he found himself in the eyes of someone running through the forest, hopping and crawling and squeezing through twists and turns with agility he could never possess. The area looked familiar, he realized distantly. The air whizzed around him, grass and twigs flicking at his legs as he ran even faster, closer to the ground than reasonable. The dream continued until he noticed the shack coming closer at a slower speed than before. Trotting. In the dream, he felt hesitant about approaching it, though he never had before in real life.
Even when he’d first found this resting place, it seemed to call to him. Like it knew the warmth and security it could offer were exactly what he was looking for. Maybe next time, Tsukishima thought as he slowly returned to consciousness, he could do something nice in return for the shack. Bring offerings, or pray to a nearby Jizo statue.
When he opened his eyes again, he was welcomed by the orange-red setting sun and a quieter forest hum. The feeling of waking up to such peace was new to Tsukishima, but he appreciated it. He wished he could show his mother the forest, show her the shack and the temple, too.
Tsukishima rarely got what he wanted, so he kept his wishes to a minimum.
Though, as rustling outside the door suddenly caught his attention, he wondered if even one night of peace hadn’t been allowed. He quieted his breathing and grasped at the worn cloth, heart pounding. He recalled the odd dream and wondered if it had been a message. An omen. He shook a little harder, hand gripping his leg to beg his body to calm down.
Sniff, sniff, sniff.
At the bottom of the door, there came the sound of an animal snorting and sniffing. Tsukishima’s head spun as he thought back to what he learned in class. There shouldn’t be any dangerous wildlife on the island. Maybe it was a bunny? Tsukishima could take on a bunny.
Looking around the room, he couldn’t find anything to fight back with, so he hoped he was right. His mother once joked that they both had bunny noses, so he always liked them.
A bunny would make sense. What slid open the door did not.
Tsukishima wasn’t even sure what it—what he was?
The creature looked about the same size as Tsukishima. It stood on two feet, with a face like a human, and hands too, one still gripping the handle of the door.
“Hello?”
It spoke.
Japanese at that.
Tsukishima lowered the protective blanket shield he was holding in front of him. “Hi,” he replied nervously, feeling silly for being so scared.
Still, the boy had foxlike ears and a tail. And what looked like whiskers? Crap, Tsukishima thought, what is that? And then, Pretty cool.
The fox-boy walked forwards without shutting the door behind himself, seeming curious about Tsukishima, tilting his head, eyes wide and inquisitive.
“Um,” Tsukishima began to say, too shy to make eye contact, “sorry for intruding if this is your home. I can leave if you want me to.”
“No!” the creature exclaimed and pounced on the mass of buried Tsukishima. “Stay! I’ve never seen a human child before.”
Tsukishima wheezed when one of the boy’s hands pushed on his chest, fabric tossed into the air by an overexcited tail. The two children wrestled across the floor for a moment—Tsukishima trying to get away and the other trying to make him stay. It wasn’t until Tsukishima yelped when his elbow banged against the table that he was finally free.
The creature regarded him with playful curiosity, likely hoping to continue their play. Tsukishima wasn’t averse to the idea, but his thoughts sped through his head with increasing confusion. What was he? Why was he so friendly? And why had he never seen a human child? Tsukishima wondered. He hugged his knees to his chest, chin resting on top.
“Why do you have a tail,” he asked flatly.
As if just realizing the fact, the boy spun around, chasing his own tail and giggling for some time before finally catching it and showing it off to Tsukishima. “This?”
Tsukishima nodded.
“Well”—he came closer—“I’m a kitsune. I’m not supposed to tell you that, I think, but I’m mad at my dad right now, so I’m not gonna listen to what he says.”
“Kitsune…” Tsukishima parroted, eyes darting from the ears to the whiskers to the tail again. Huh. He supposed that would make sense. “What’s your name, Kitsune-sama?”
“Koito Otonoshin!”
Tsukishima wondered if Koito yelled all the time, or if that was just a kitsune trait.
“Nice to meet you. My name is Tsukishima Hajime. I’m seven years old.” He held up seven fingers.
Koito dropped to his knees and crawled closer, yukata picking up the dust covering the floor. “I don’t know how old I am, but we look the same age. Do you want to be friends, Tsukishima?”
Tsukishima didn’t have any friends. Not a single one. To think that someone as cool as Koito would want to be his friend made Tsukishima flush with nerves. He didn’t know how to be a friend, but he wanted it achingly.
“Okay,” he conceded, “but I’ve never had one before. I apologize if I mess up.”
“Me neither,” Koito chirped back easily. His ears flicked and his tail thumped against the ground. “Can we play now?”
Tsukishima nodded again.
“Only for a little. I have to get home before it’s too dark.”
Koito pouted, but recovered instantly, slapping Tsukishima’s shoulder. As he ran out the door, he yelled over his shoulder, “Come try to catch me!”
The sensation of laughter bubbling in his chest and spilling out in small but bright titters was a feeling that Tsukishima hadn’t experienced in a long time. He felt a certain amount of freedom running through the forest, trying to catch up to Koito, though to no avail. He’d known somehow that Koito would outpace him, climb the trees to jump out of reach, and deke Tsukishima out just when he thought he could catch up. Breathless in his chest and face aching from a rare smile, Tsukishima ended the day feeling lighter than ever before. His heart bounced around happily, sweat cooled by the nighttime air.
“Oh,” he realized, and raised his voice to reach Koito, “I have to go, I’ll be late for dinner!”
Koito stopped a few yards ahead, but his pout was still visible from afar. He scampered closer.
“Silly human schedules. You’ll come back tomorrow, right?”
Tsukishima noticed a twig in Koito’s black-blue hair and plucked it out. “I have school,” he said.
Koito cocked his head like the stray dogs near the port did. “School?”
“It’s—” Tsukishima stopped when he remembered the mad dash home he had to make. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the village. “I can explain tomorrow. I’ll meet you here after school. Which I will explain tomorrow.”
The drone of crickets started up, a warning bell for Tsukishima to get going. Still, he didn’t want to leave until he knew Koito would be there again. The kitsune thought about it for an irritatingly unreasonable amount of time before agreeing with a nod.
“Bye-bye, Tsukishima!” Koito waved.
Tsukishima waved and ran off, sandals scooped up from where he’d left them earlier. He could put them back on when he made it to the path. Right now, with his soles padded by the grass, he could move faster. He remembered the dream again and laughed when he hopped over an old log like the dream-version of himself had. The trials of the day were long forgotten. It was as if the forest ran with him, wind pushing him along, not a single stone poking up to trip him. The stars blurred ahead of him towards the water, and he didn’t feel so bad about reaching home.
Tsukishima wished the feeling would never end.
School hadn’t been so bad, but Tsukishima had gotten a beating that morning, which drew jeers from his classmates and neatly disguised contempt from his teacher. In his childlike confusion with the world around him, he wondered why no one wanted to help. Why everyone looked at him as if he deserved it.
His worries were swept away with the breeze once he made it back to the top of the hill and saw Koito’s foxlike silhouette from afar. Koito knew nothing of Tsukishima’s father or the kids at school. On top of the small shack, Koito sat with his legs dangling off the side, small hands gripping the edge of the roof. The forest sang around them, summer wind still warm and comfortable. Koito jumped off and landed delicately, taking off towards Tsukishima.
“Tsukishima!” He wrapped him into a crushing hug, jumping up and down and jostling his target.
“Hi, Koito-sama,” Tsukishima responded shyly, smile slowly returning. He completed the hug, and they spun around and laughed.
Koito stepped back, robes frumpy. Tsukishima reached out to adjust them, just like his mother used to, every day before school. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
What? Tsukishima was more worried that Koito would have disappeared. After all, the other boy was a mythical being, probably with a whole host of responsibilities Tsukishima couldn’t even understand. In arithmetic class, he thought maybe he’d dreamt up his time with the kitsune, that maybe it had all been a fever dream, beginning with the weird one he’d experienced in the shack. Climbing up the mountain, he had tried to keep his expectations low.
The relief of being wrong felt like a weight off his shoulders.
“I’m here,” Tsukishima said.
The two boys inspected each other for a moment. Koito reached out with gentle hands to prod at the skin near the cut on Tsukishima’s face.
“What happened?” Koito pouted, retracting his hands to fidget nervously with his fingers. He looked near tears. Tsukishima’s neck blushed in embarrassment under the soft care of Koito’s expressions and words. Explaining what happened wasn’t easy. He knew it was wrong from the way his mother, sick in bed, still cried out for his father to stop.
The bonsho at the nearby temple clanged, sending birds scrambling into the sky, pulling Tsukishima and Koito out of their awkward silence. It rang once more, vibrating through the ground, making Koito’s ears twitch.
“S’not a big deal,” Tsukishima said, tone grumbly and shy. “I thought we were gonna play today?”
Koito perked up. The excitement on his face was clear, nearly bursting with joy. His cheeks puffed up as if he had to physically keep his words in.
Tsukishima followed Koito as the kitsune took off further into the forest. “Where are we going?” asked Tsukishima, already breathing heavily, trying to keep up with Koito’s pace.
“It’s an awesome surprise!” he replied as he hopped around, swinging from a low branch. Tsukishima grinned. He’d never been surprised by something good before.
As they made their way through the woods, Tsukishima tried to copy Koito’s actions, touching all the plants and flowers they passed. When Koito did so, it made them spring up with energy, bloom more beautifully than before. It was amazing. Koito was probably showing off, but Tsukishima didn’t care. He wondered if Koito might want to save their small vegetable garden back home. His mother never warned him about any forest spirits, so maybe she’d like to meet Koito.
The pathway was shaped like a tunnel, with tree branches enclosing them, though light still streamed through. There were mushrooms and butterflies and berries, bunnies and birds and other animals Tsukishima had not seen on the island before. It felt like a hug from the forest itself. No branches or roots or rocks to trip either of them, no scary noises or nearby adults. Tsukishima bit back a laugh and he sped up to walk beside Koito.
They walked in silence until the trees parted in front of them to the sound of beach waves. Koito stood at the lip of the small cliff, tiny arms spread out, showcasing the ocean as if it were his gift to Tsukishima.
He had never been to this side of the shore. The water was crystalline and turquoise, glimmering with the sun’s rays, lapping at the sand with the push of slow-moving waves. It was nothing like the water by the port in the village, murky from boat wakes and spilled goods.
“What do you think?” Koito’s cheeks blushed and his eyes shone with eagerness.
Tsukishima walked closer to the edge and carefully slid down the slope of sand until he made it to the water, dusting his hands off on his uniform.
“I’ve never seen the ocean look like this before,” he said, and stepped even closer until he could dip his toes in. “It’s warm,” he noted with surprise.
“Yep!” Koito laughed and pushed Tsukishima further in, forcing the human to pull his robes up and away from the water, legs submerged up to his knees. The kitsune followed his lead, tail ramrod straight to avoid wetting it. Koito leaned down and flicked the current towards Tsukishima, laughing when Tsukishima gasped.
They splashed about in the water for a bit before Tsukishima noticed the fish swimming between their legs, undisturbed by the commotion they were creating. The fish came in vibrant reds and yellows and purples, visible through the translucent water. Koito didn’t pay them much attention until Tsukishima did, gleeful at the awe on his friend’s face.
“You like fish?”
“Huh?” Tsukishima tore his attention away from the swaths of tiny sea animals. “Oh. I’ve just never seen them like this, I guess. Sorry.”
“You haven’t seen a whole lot, Tsukishima. Your life is boring.” Koito poked at Tsukishima’s forehead. “That’s okay. I will take it upon myself to show you around the island. It’s my new duty!”
The promise was attractive. Tsukishima desperately wanted to jump on it, keep it for himself and make Koito swear he’d never break it. He wanted to believe in Koito, wanted to be his friend more than anything, but Tsukishima had trouble trusting the word of anyone. For all he knew, this could be some elaborate prank by the villagers. Besides, he had school.
“I can’t see the whole island. I have school. I have to take care of my mom,” Tsukishima said, trudging his way back to the beach, fish swimming further into the current, leaving him to mope on the sand alone. Koito watched him for a few beats and then joined him, kicking up sand behind him as he ran. He tugged Tsukishima downwards so they could both lie back and watch the clouds.
Even the sky was prettier here. The clouds were squishy and white like clumps of mochi, stark against the brilliant blue backdrop.
“You never told me what school is,” Koito said, limbs swinging in the air like he couldn’t stop moving if he tried. The bright sun made Koito’s skin glow, soaking up the rays instead of reddening like Tsukishima’s skin did. The color of Koito’s tail matched his dark navy hair, and the fur felt hot against Tsukishima’s hand as they rolled closer to each other. It was as if Koito had his own sun inside of him, radiant and proud.
They spent the rest of the afternoon explaining slight differences between their worlds and duties. Koito had been overseeing the part of the island that his elder brother had before him. His father wasn’t around, though he wasn’t mean like Tsukishima’s. They bonded over their love of their mothers and the foods they liked. Koito helped Tsukishima back over the low cliff so they could return home once the sun began to set, rosy and golden, along the horizon of the ocean.
“I wish I could show you more of my world,” said Koito as they emerged from the tunnel of trees. “More of the island, far from this stinky village.”
Tsukishima laughed. “Stinky?” He hadn’t ever thought it smelled bad. Maybe the fish and the salt air could be a little gross sometimes, but he was used to it.
“Unfortunately, your puny human nose can’t fathom the things I can smell,” boasted Koito. “Like the fact that you ate a pear at lunch today.”
Tsukishima’s jaw dropped at that. He had, he found it left over in the lunch area after all the other kids had gone outside to play. It was delicious, even if it wasn’t enough to sustain him. A pang of hunger lurched his stomach.
“Wow,” Tsukishima breathed. They walked until they made it to the edge of the temple, seemingly a barrier for Koito. “Hey,” Tsukishima called out, “why can’t your kind live amongst humans? Why do you have to live all alone in the forest?”
Koito huffed and, instead of coming closer, scuttered up a nearby tree. The branches shook with the movement, and a small spider dangled from its web just underneath Koito. Tsukishima watched it reorient itself for a moment, before he tilting his head back to look at Koito. In the low light and the shade of the tree, he could hardly make Koito out except for his eyes, which shone in the dark. Koito swung around and Tsukishima wished he could, too, but the tree limb was too high. He couldn’t tell if Koito was mad at him.
“We do,” Koito said once he got over his apparent irritation. “But I’m not allowed yet. Father says I’m too young, that I’ll expose all our secrets.”
Tsukishima ignored the latter half for the former. “You do?” he asked, jaw dropping. He’d never seen someone like Koito before and there were a decent amount of people in Shukunegi. They would have probably learnt about kitsune in class if what Koito said was true.
Koito pounced on a beetle, pinching its torso before it could fly away. “Sort of.” He passed the insect down to Tsukishima, who cradled it, releasing it once it struggled. Its wings flapped loud and heavy, and the sound made Tsukishima’s gut crawl.
“It’s more like we disguise ourselves to look like you guys and hope that no one notices. And it’s only long term when we really, really like a human. I can be a full fox or I can be like this”—he gestured to his face—“but I don’t really have control over a fully human form yet. Brother used to say it takes time, but I’m getting bored with being all alone.”
The admittance made Tsukishima pause. It surprised him to learn that. Maybe there were other spirits in his village, maybe even someone that Koito knew. He couldn’t imagine why they’d want to give up the forest for the world of humans, though. There wasn’t much to gain from his kind.
“I see.”
“Mhm." Koito nodded and then hopped back down. He grabbed Tsukishima’s hand without shame, linking their small fingers together. “See you tomorrow, okay?”
Tsukishima nodded and then, not without some hesitation, reached out with his free hand to pet Koito’s head. Koito's tail swayed happily before he could control himself, causing it to spit off flames, nearly catching fire before he got himself under control. Tsukishima made a note to mention that later.
“Tsukishima!” Koito squawked and jumped at him. “I am not a dog!”
Their laughter echoed down the hill and fed the forest as it carried in the wind, the innocent giggles and snorts of two unlikely friends. The wind whispered back with a soft melody, dancing around the pair until they finally called a truce, an earthworm in Koito’s pudgy hands dangling much too close to Tsukishima’s face.
The day was over and they said their goodbyes once more. It hurt, in that overdramatic way that being young made everything feel like, wherein Tsukishima barely contained the urge to throw a tantrum over it, but they both knew it would only be a matter of time before Tsukishima’s head poked over the lip of the hill again, ready for another day together.
“Stop walking, Tsukishima.” Koito grasped the back of Tsukishima’s yukata, stopping him in his tracks.
They were in the middle of crossing a fallen log which bridged one side of the river to the other. Tsukishima turned around carefully to see Koito’s face had gone pale and afraid. His ears flattened sideways and his breath stilled.
“What? What’s wrong?” Tsukishima asked, following Koito’s gaze further into the woods. He couldn’t see anything, though that didn’t stop him from believing Koito knew something was wrong. There were countless times that the kitsune’s instincts had protected them. On guard, Tsukishima rolled up his sleeves.
Koito didn’t respond. The forest leaves ruffled in the breeze, quiet in every other regard, as if to allow Koito to concentrate. Tsukishima was curious about the relationship between Koito and the forest; how it often appeared the woods lent their support to Koito, though he’d never seen Koito return the favor. Maybe that was part of Koito’s other life that Tsukishima wasn’t privy to.
“Let’s at least get off the log,” Tsukishima said, guiding Koito in the direction they came from. Koito complied, big eyes trained on the side of the forest that was now behind Tsukishima’s back. “Easy does it,” Tsukishima murmured, shuffling off the rotting thing until they made it back to even ground. Koito’s fear inspired hurt in Tsukishima’s core, dull and anxious, begging for him to find a solution.
Now at fourteen years old, he still hardly knew how to console someone, let alone someone as headstrong as Koito. Tentatively, he put a hand on Koito’s shoulder and another on Koito’s cheek. The second touch made them both shiver. Tsukishima wanted to live in that moment, basking in the extra warmth lighting up his spine. Regardless, he couldn't share his worry.
“Let’s breathe, okay?” he asked gently, borrowing his mother’s words.
Koito gasped for air like he’d just resurfaced from the water, which Tsukishima took as a success, but then his breathing sped up, tripping over itself as Koito clutched onto Tsukishima tighter. “It’s coming,” he whispered, and ducked into Tsukishima’s protective hold.
It felt like a train crashing into him when it arrived. Koito screamed, and it knocked them both to the ground. Then it snarled and drooled and bit, and Tsukishima dazedly shook the shock from his mind to see a massive hunting dog barking wildly at Koito, snapping its teeth at the pair.
There were times in Tsukishima’s life when he’d felt like this before. Times where the world moved in slow motion, eating at his presumed last moments, viciously taunting him with his inability to do anything.
In the village, he truly could do nothing. Any sudden movement was a trap, extra fuel for the fire that threatened to take him and his mother into flames.
Here in the forest, he could follow his heart. Reward his instinctual mind.
With a deep breath, Tsukishima leapt at the dog, pushing it far away from Koito, and then he crawled over to cover his friend with his own body. Adrenaline coursed through Tsukishima like numbing gel, freezing his thoughts to a soundless buzz. The dog ran back over in seconds, clawing and gnawing at Tsukishima’s back, frenzied like he'd had never seen an animal before.
Koito shrunk underneath him significantly, but Tsukishima paid it no mind, priorities resting solely on their safety.
It felt like ages before a man ran over and grabbed the violent canine by the collar, cussing madly under his breath. Once he turned around to chain the dog up to a nearby tree, Tsukishima felt Koito return to his normal size underneath him, jostling Tsukishima around although Koito made no move to reemerge. Tsukishima didn’t want to let him go either. They both panted fiercely, hearts racing with leftover fear.
“Hey!” the huntsman yelled. “What are you boys doing so deep in the woods?”
He put a large hand on Tsukishima, palm pressed into the bloody mess of Tsukishima’s shoulder. It was enough to wake Tsukishima out of his trance, hissing at how torn up his skin was. Then his stomach sank. Koito would be found out. His thoughts spiraled. Flashes of scenarios wherein the village took up arms to track down Koito, corralling more hunting dogs to lead the fight.
Koito eased his way into a sitting position. Ears, whiskers and tail gone. Tsukishima bit back his surprise.
“Go away,” Koito snarled, eyes beady and mean.
Tsukishima was surprised to find that the hunter backed away and took the dog with him, too. They listened as the heavy steps grew further away. Once they were alone again, Tsukishima reach over to see if Koito had gotten hurt. “Are you alright, Koito-sama?” he forced out, voice cracking embarrassingly.
“What do you mean, am I alright? You’ve been torn to shreds!” Koito tossed a handful of autumn leaves at Tsukishima. His eyes were watery. Back to normal, no hint of that deadened gaze from earlier. Tsukishima breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sorry,” Tsukishima said, though he didn’t sound authentic through a bit-back smile. They were both still tingling from the rush, and Tsukishima felt oddly pleased at Koito’s obnoxious care for him. He let the kitsune check him for injuries, graceful hands identifying where he’d been hurt. Tsukishima thought he might have hit his head in the scuffle, for he felt the softness of Koito’s touch more than the sting of cuts and bites.
Mercy from the forest, most likely. For protecting one of its protectors. Tsukishima allowed Koito to stand them both up and to wrap an arm around his midsection for balance.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Koito said through tears, emotions still raw.
Tsukishima nodded and let Koito take his weight, trusting him to take care of him. That trust felt good, it felt right.
“Ugh.” Tsukishima rolled over onto his back, arm covering his eyes. “It feels like summer will never end.”
Koito watched Tsukishima from where he lay on the table, feet swinging back and forth, stomach resting on the cool stone. A welcome respite, but not nearly enough to combat the heat. Earlier he’d suggested they go to the water, but Tsukishima looked so tired Koito doubted they would be able to reach the ocean.
Luckily, Koito had the forethought to bring food. Tsukishima made quick work of the berries he’d picked, thanking him profusely for such a small gift. Even though they’d been friends for years now, Tsukishima was still polite to a fault, endlessly grateful for minor favors and blessings. Koito supposed the thankfulness made up for the slight shame he had at serving a human.
He thought about the other gift he had in his pouch and how Tsukishima might react to it. His heart buzzed. The forest was calm today, likely because of the pressing heatwave, but it made Koito feel secure in his decision.
It wasn’t as if there was anyone around to tell him to do otherwise.
Over the last few years, Tsukishima and Koito had continued to meet up through the chilly seaside winters and the sweltering summers. They were no strangers to the grip of the Foehn wind or the icy patches on the path up the hill.
In time, they decorated the abandoned hut to be much more comfortable and clean, bigger bodies able to rearrange the furniture and clean the windows. They took the old rags to a river and cleaned them, and Tsukishima bought a mat with the leftover money he got from doing odd jobs around the neighborhood. That had been the first and only time that Tsukishima had spent his own money without his father catching on.
The mat ended up being too small for both of them to fit, but Koito always felt odd about sleeping so close to Tsukishima. It made his chest flip and his tail twitch.
Besides, from the higher vantage point on the table, Koito could watch over Tsukishima, and flick the teeny forest spirits away when they tried to crawl over him.
Tsukishima once caught him and asked what he was doing, the corner of his mouth tugged up in a grin. Koito blushed ruddily and claimed he was protecting him. You’d never last a day in this forest without me, Tsukishima, he'd said.
“I’m thinking of dropping out of school,” Tsukishima brought up casually, picking at a scab on the low bridge of his nose. “There’s no reason for me to keep going since I'm sixteen and a guy at the docks offered me a fishing job.”
“That means we can hang out more, right?”
“Eh.” Tsukishima rolled his head to the side to gaze up at Koito. “I don’t know. Maybe. I have to get my schedule from my boss first.”
Koito pouted. He wondered what the point of dropping out was if it didn't afford them more time together.
“But you’ll be the first to know, okay?”
“Wow,” Koito said sarcastically, “you’d really put me above all your other friends like that?”
Tsukishima snorted. “Okay. Rude. See if I tell you anything.”
The sight of Tsukishima unguarded and coltish made Koito happy, made his chest tight. He’d been down the hill enough times to see how Tsukishima behaved around other people. How his shoulders curved inwards, his fists curled in for a punch at the slightest remark. He was a strong boy, but he was hurting, and Koito wished he could take that away from him.
Koito wanted for more than he should when it came to Tsukishima. He wanted to be close to him, always. Yearned for how their arms pressed together and their hands brushed as they walked around the forest. There was a palpable despondency in his core every time Tsukishima left and every time he took too long to return. Watching Tsukishima now, safely relaxing in their makeshift home without a care in the world, Koito felt satiated and complete.
Along the way those innocent platonic feelings morphed into a more besetting need to be whole, be as close as two souls forged into one. When he thought back, he supposed they had always been there, ever since Tsukishima first looked at him with open awe. Through the years of being exposed to Tsukishima’s solicitousness and gentle words, despite the suffering he endured daily, those feelings had remained. Tried and true.
Koito wished he could bring it up, but he knew he was there to help Tsukishima escape the day-to-day village life. Not as a means to run away. They could only hang out once a week these days, but it was fine. For Tsukishima, it was a weekly reset. For Koito, all that mattered was that Tsukishima felt like he could always return to the forest, to him.
He fought not to examine what all of that really meant, to want someone so strongly.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Koito suddenly said, bouncing off the table towards the door, even though Tsukishima had denied his earlier request. Koito needed to clear his mind. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
Tsukishima groaned and lifted himself off the mat, back sticky with sweat. He was bone-tired, but he never said no to Koito. Ever. It was, admittedly, one of Koito’s favorite things about Tsukishima.
Koito sidled up beside Tsukishima, pulling him along an alternative path that yawned opened up. “If you don’t have to go to school anymore, then it doesn’t matter if you miss class tomorrow, right?”
“I guess…?” Tsukishima said, sounding half certain, half scared. The path was blessedly downhill, but not too steep, just enough for them to feel more refreshed running down it than trudging along.
Tsukishima watched Koito leap and bound ahead, two tails twining together and casting sparks. It had only been a few days since Koito’s new tail had come in. He’d gone away for a week to reconnect with his father and presumably came back with more importance and responsibilities. Tsukishima felt proud.
Years ago, after their second meeting, he had gone to a local library to learn more about the kitsune, which is where he found out about the nine tails. Besides that, there were other things the book mentioned he hadn’t seen from Koito yet. Probably because of age.
He shook his head and picked up speed, catching up to Koito, air rushing past his ears. Koito was also much taller than him now, which was somewhat aggravating, but it suited him. He looked much more majestic now than he had as a child. Even if Tsukishima knew the truth, that Koito would always be a mess.
They reached a long rope bridge and Koito continued to sprint forward, ignoring how it swung violently. Tsukishima, on the other hand, skidded to a halt, hands shooting out to stabilize him at the entrance of the bridge.
Koito made it to the other end before turning around and realizing he’d left Tsukishima behind.
“What are you waiting for? You scared?”
Tsukishima yelled an obscenity back at him, and Koito laughed.
Underneath the bridge, the tops of the lush, green trees were completely still. The sun beat down on him, sweat dripping down his brow. There was no reason to be afraid. The bridge was sturdy enough to take Koito’s assault on it, but the drop was so high that Tsukishima felt his breath catch every time he looked down.
“If you’re not brave enough to cross a bridge, then you’ll never be brave enough to get on a fishing boat,” Koito said with a mischievous grin.
Tsukishima knew he was only teasing, but he grumbled and tried again. Another false start. His hands refused to let go from the entranceway. Embarrassment at making a scene in front of his friend flooded his neck. He swallowed down the urge to storm off in the other direction.
Just when he was ready to give up, though, the view in front of him shifted, morphing the gaping canyon into flat ground, grassy and familiar. The bridge became a simple white corridor, sturdy and boxed in. At the other end of it, he could see Koito standing there with his eyes closed, hands covering his ears.
Why was he looking away now?
The frustration at Koito’s poor timing made Tsukishima finally let go. He took a few steps backwards and then charged through, focused on Koito, getting faster until he reemerged and tackled the kitsune to the ground.
“Look!” Tsukishima grabbed him by his robes and pointed over his own shoulder. “What the fuck is that?”
“What’s what, Tsukishima?”
Tsukishima looked over his shoulder. The bridge had returned to normal, rebounding back and forth from the force of Tsukishima’s run.
“You—you did that, didn’t you?”
Koito, despite it being in his nature, was a laughable liar. He smiled coyly up at Tsukishima.
“Just something new I’ve been working on.”
Tsukishima sighed and helped them both up. “I could’ve done it on my own.”
Koito stuck out his tongue. “Nuh-uh. Scaredy-shima needs my help with everything.”
Tsukishima balked at the nickname. “Don’t call me that.” He shoved Koito lightly and walked ahead.
“Why not?” asked Koito. “Can I call you something else?”
They ducked under a thicket of vines, coming close to where Koito wanted to bring them. He could feel the magic in this part of the forest shiver and zip, other larger spirits coming into view. He wondered if Tsukishima would notice if he pointed them out.
“Isn’t my name good enough?”
“What about…” Koito pretended to deliberate, even if the thought had been on his mind for some time. Though he’d imagined this conversation many times, he was still nervous. “What about Hajime?”
Tsukishima stopped with the force of the word hitting his gut. “Oh,” he remarked dumbly, “yeah. Yeah, that would be nice. I guess.”
“Okay,” Koito replied, equally awkward, unprepared for Tsukishima to acquiesce so easily, yet he smiled, and hid it behind his hand. “Good.”
Tsukishima snuck a quick glance at Koito, but looked away quickly when he saw he was being eyeballed back.
Ahead of them, under the mess of flora and the buzzing of cicadas, there stood a small door. Tsukishima looked around and noticed the walls of a house, wooden, and a dark brown eave which curved upwards to form a roof. Vines and mud overtook the building, camouflaging it with the forest to hide the home from stray travelers.
“This is where I live,” Koito said with barely concealed pride. He opened the door, which jingled a small bell above the entrance, and toed his shoes off. Tsukishima followed behind and did the same, stepping out of the genkan and into the living room.
“One second.” Koito slid into a pair of knitted slippers. “I’ll go get you some.”
The home’s interior was a beautiful mix of beiges and browns and blues and greens. Though it had the same tatami mats and shoji doors as Tsukishima’s house, there were beautiful quilts and paintings strewn around the room, warm oil lamps burning and the smell of home cooking. He wondered how Koito learned to be so self-sufficient.
Koito returned with another pair of slippers and guided Tsukishima to sit with him around the table. He rushed over to the kitchen to prepare the tea, tail lighting a fire under his kettle. With all the quickness that Koito embodied, their tea was ready in an instant. It puffed and steamed in ceramic cups placed between the two boys, sweet and bitter.
“Can I introduce you to some spirits living here with me?” Koito offered as a question. His voice trembled with excitement, so Tsukishima couldn’t say no, even if he wanted to. Tsukishima nodded happily and grabbed his tea to follow Koito. He would have liked to finish it first, but Koito had a one-track mind, unable to sit still once his attention flowed elsewhere.
They stopped in the kitchen first. Shelves and baskets hung from the rafters, stocked full with pans and plates and jars and dried herbs. Koito opened different pots haphazardly until he yelled, “Gotcha!”
Tsukishima turned around and Koito lowered the pot so Tsukishima could see inside. At first he saw nothing, but then, as he looked closer, a blurry image appeared to dance across the bottom, hazy yellow and shapeless. He didn’t realize he'd gasped until Koito laughed. “I know, right? I don’t know what it looks like to you, but ones like this help me cook.”
The boys giggled as the spirit squirmed its way over the lip of the pot, floating behind a container of utensils.
As Koito continued to lead him around, Tsukishima let himself admire the house in open awe. It was cozy and lived-in, entirely unlike his home in Shukunegi, which had no furniture, no love, only the mats he and his mother slept on and whatever was in his father’s long-forbidden room.
“I was thinking,” Koito began to say, sniffing the air and checking under the rugs, “maybe you could live here. Just sometimes. Maybe once you quit school.”
Tsukishima faltered. Koito turned around cupping several sprites, like sparkles coating his palms. Then, he blew them away and snickered as they wafted through the air. Tsukishima watched in a daze, thoughts jumbled and indefinable. All Tsukishima knew was that he wanted to live with Koito. He wanted it with enough force to nearly knock the breath out of him. He crouched down beside where Koito was on the floor, searching for more spirits to show off. As if sensing his hesitation, Koito turned around, close enough to smoosh their noses together.
“You can bring your mom!” Koito exclaimed. “I thought that might be what would stop you, so I already planned ahead.” He turned around and sighed happily. “Ah, I’m so smart sometimes.”
A quiet contentment spread through Tsukishima. He wanted to say yes, desperately, but he would have to ask his mother first. “Can I think about it?” he asked.
Koito shrugged and huffed. “I guess,” he said, then continued prancing around the house, cueing Tsukishima to follow along.
“Here’s another one.” Koito plucked a sprite from the fireplace. It was a soft red hue, but sharper in shape than the last. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, then used his other hand to flick it off into the distance. “I told my mother that I didn’t need a fire sprite, but she didn’t trust my abilities at the time and was convinced I’d burn the house down.”
Tsukishima smiled at the annoyance in Koito’s tone, but his gut crawled with unease at Koito's actions. He’d like to meet Koito’s mother one day to thank her for likely saving his life.
In Koito’s bedroom, the walls and bookshelves and blankets sparkled with different fairies and spirits. Some of them flew past Tsukishima once the door opened, but others stayed put for their tasks.
“There’s so many in here and they never let me get a peaceful night’s sleep.” Koito stomped his feet, snatching his tails before they left his control. The loud pounding startled some stragglers and pushed them into hiding.
“Do you not like them, Koito-sama?”
Koito spun to face Tsukishima. “What do you mean? I don’t hate them, they’re just annoying.”
“They’re just doing their job…” Tsukishima muttered, feeling bad for scaring the spirits. He didn’t want to get on the bad side of the forest after it had done so much for him. Though he wanted to explore the colorful bedroom some more, he stepped away out of respect.
“Oh, come on,” Koito wailed and skipped after Tsukishima, who walked back to the living room. “Ha-ji-me, don’t ignore me.”
Tsukishima stepped around one of the kitchen spirits and put his empty cup on the rack to be washed. “You should be nice to them. If you’re going to live in the forest forever, you should treat it with more care, right? If I were to live here, I would feel bad for them all the time.” That logic made sense. He never could understand why Koito was so entitled and bratty, but it didn’t bother Tsukishima much when it was directed at him.
Now, he could see that Koito behaved that way with everyone. “Some people might be fine with your attitude, but not everyone.”
Maybe it was embarrassment at Tsukishima being so disappointed in him, or maybe it was the humiliation of a human lecturing him on how to treat the forest, but the atmosphere shifted rapidly. It closed in on them heavily, like the massive doors to the temple, a sturdy enclosure that should scare Tsukishima deeply. Koito loomed over Tsukishima, teeth bared. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he warned. Though he wanted his voice to inspire hatred, it cracked with pubescent strain and emotion halfway through. Tsukishima didn’t laugh.
There was no fear in Tsukishima’s eyes, for he knew Koito would never hurt him. Though the sight of such sudden anger was shocking and the heat emanating from Koito’s tails was concerning, he held his ground. Despite the growls and gnashes from Koito, they were stopped in a stalemate, neither party wanting to back down.
Tsukishima couldn’t say he was surprised to see this side of Koito. The two of them felt like fire and water sometimes, balancing each other’s more onerous emotions. When Tsukishima felt like he was drowning, Koito’s heat could raise him like steam. When Koito looked more like a wildfire than a controlled burn, Tsukishima was there to cool his fervor.
At that moment, Tsukishima didn’t think there was anything he could do to make things right. They’d never fought like this before.
“Go,” Koito shouted, providing a solution. He looked more beast than human, eyes glowing yellow, eyebrows furrowed something mean. Still, he didn’t lay a finger on Tsukishima. “Get out! If you love the forest so much, it can show you the way home.”
In all their years, Koito never let Tsukishima leave his domain alone. He always escorted Tsukishima to the path that led back to the village and watched from the top of the hill until his enhanced vision could spot Tsukishima entering the village border.
This time, when Tsukishima stormed out of his home and the door slid firmly shut behind him, Koito ran back to his bedroom and dove under the covers. He held it together for less than a minute, consumed by his dissipating anger, grasping for it like falling sand before breaking down into tears, loud wails that disturbed the forest and shocked his house spirits.
Outside, clouds rolled in with a rumble and nearby birds fled their perches for the security of their nests.
Koito’s sobs wracked his lanky frame and made him cling desperately to his homemade blankets. Though he tried closing his eyes and concentrating on sending his consciousness out into the world, his mind wasn’t clear enough to reach out to Tsukishima to see if he made it home alright. His own incompetence further frustrated him, fists coming down on his bed mat.
He screamed into the pillow, fangs biting into the soft, feathery lump. The magical house felt heavy with his sadness, no longer standing upright, nor did it glow the same. Koito cried until his throat hurt and his eyes stung too much to open. Eventually, he subsided into shaky breaths and sniffles. Koito was just about over it when he rolled over and felt the contents of his satchel.
He’d forgotten to give Tsukishima his present.
Easier than before, the tears flowed. Rain pattered at the stained glass window; softly at first, then battering down like hail.
“Koito-sama!” Tsukishima yelled, hands cupping the sides of his mouth to project his voice. “Are you okay?”
Typhoon rain curtained his vision. He shouldn’t have gone outside, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Koito sitting through this storm in their shoddy shack or his precariously placed cliff-side home. Radio silence had stretched on for over a week. Tsukishima knew to give Koito some space. He was afraid of inspiring the formation of new cracks in their fragile relationship.
Now, as the winds whipped Tsukishima’s clothes wildly and he grabbed onto a nearby tree, there he was, risking his life to make sure his friend was safe. He felt so stupid for allowing the distance between them to grow.
Minutes ago, he’d been at home pacing in his mother’s room, biting his nails and huffing angrily until she was fed up and told him to go to the living room. He couldn’t blame her. He knew he was being melodramatic. Still, the thought of Koito alone and scared somewhere in that deep forest, with tree limbs falling and showers flooding, made him desperate to know if he was alright.
“I forgive you!” he cried, voice breaking. Heartsore and pathetic. Unable to see more than a few feet in front of him. Muddy water flowing over his father’s borrowed rain boots.
The forest was eerily silent, as if all it put all of its focus on survival, no room for song and dance as the torrential winds threatened to rip it right from the ground it called home. He wondered if the forest would protect Koito, too. If it still had enough energy left to make sure its spirits weren’t left for dead.
“Hey, punk,” someone yelled from behind him, voice booming over the howling weather. “Are you crazy? Go home!”
Tsukishima’s lip curled when the elderly villager slammed their door shut, and willed his quick temper to not flood his chest. Sparing one more look at the forest, Tsukishima sent out a prayer—
Let me come home to him. Even if it’s only for him to tear me to pieces, I don’t care. Let me see him one more time, alive with the forest, alive and real and whole and alright.
—and ran back to his mother, drenched in the waves of the world, both inside and outside.
Maybe it was a sign of growing up, how the wonders of yesterday no longer stole his breath or stuttered his pulse. Maybe growing up was about becoming numb enough to could cope with constant pressure, pain, and loss.
Those three themes remained a constant for most people, structural support for the abundance of challenges the world could throw at them. The strongest of the lot could withstand it all, rise after any punch and weather any storm. Tsukishima envied those people.
There were those who could come out the other end of their struggle and still look to the world with optimism and heart. They could see the blues for blues, reds for reds. Their world hadn’t turned to grays and browns and muted shades of landscape that once shone brilliantly for miles. Lives that were still hopeful, bodies that still wanted to explore and to love.
These days Tsukishima felt so, so tired. He felt it in his aching shoulders and his stiff back. He felt it in his calloused hands and ankles, his each and every scar; former injuries afflicted his gait, made him shake out his limbs every morning and night, hoping to physically rid himself of the pain. His body was not old, still a couple of years away from his second decade around the sun, but his soul was weary.
Maybe part of growing up was realizing he would never get over the loss of Koito. He had his first drink over the pain, cheap and strong and just enough to knock the lump of suppressed emotion out of its hiding place. He’d thrown it up in the morning and felt dizzy with memories of the earthy scent of their shack, the feeling of the squirming tadpoles they caught together, and the incontrovertible knowledge that what they shared was love. Innocent love, what they deserved from each other after having been cast out by the rest of the world.
Sometimes he thought about their fight and raged at their childishness, at their stupidity for not knowing what they’d had and what they’d lost. He thought about the what-ifs: What if he’d said yes? What if he had agreed to live in the forest with him and tossed away the pain that came with Shukunegi and ran off?
Instead, Tsukishima resigned himself to a miserable and lonely life. It was the life he'd always figured he’d have.
Koito didn’t need him anyway. He came from a different realm with different rules and needs. All things considered, Tsukishima wasn’t sure if what they had had been worth much to a kitsune. The thought hurt like a stab wound.
Sometimes Tsukishima considered enlisting, citing a lack of any other substantial life purpose, but working at the docks had been good and honest for him. He moved around the coastline ports and used his strong, stocky body to haul crates and bags. His keen mind and reflexes brought their towns plenty of fish. He met chefs and restaurant owners, curious kids and visiting wives, tradespeople and stowaways. The ships he clambered onto were always on the smaller end, their crews always made up of Sado natives.
(They always knew the story of the Tsukishima household. They always knew about his father. Son of a murderer.)
Maybe running away from his problems would have done him worse. Maybe growing up despite the judgment and ostracism made Tsukishima stronger.
(Maybe he just wanted his peace to be well-earned.)
So, sure, he was growing up, but it was still the same Sado. Still far away from the brimming life of the mainland. Still stagnantly cynical and lonely. Sometimes his colleagues shared stories of the current political climate, huffing and puffing about politicians and the audacity of the soldiers. Tsukishima didn't care. He wasn’t unpatriotic; he simply didn’t have the capacity to care much about anything.
All he had time for was work and his mother. He had returned to Shukunegi to continue caring for her, washing her and feeding her after the next-door auntie passed away. Tsukishima only ever came around while his father ambled around town. Still boyishly afraid. Although, ever since Tsukishima had started working, his mother admitted that his father didn’t interact with her at all.
The confession had stirred mixed emotions in his chest—relief for her safety, guilt for the role he must have played in her maltreatment. Though he said nothing, she still hushed him and ran her hand over his sheared hair, assuaging him that it wasn’t his fault.
“My child,” she wheezed. “You have been my only light. Please don’t go dim on me now.”
“Laugh, Hajime,” she urged. “It’s my most favorite sound in the world.”
“Promise me,” she begged. “Let others feel your tender love once I’m gone. Never let that part of you die.”
Having gone blind from illness, his mother couldn’t see the stress lines on Tsukishima’s face or the deep sadness in his eyes, but she explained could feel the hurt like a phantom pain.
“Losing someone,” she said, “only hurts for as long as you let it. You must decide between letting them go, bringing them back, or losing yourself in the process.” She paused as Tsukishima lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips. Swallowed. “Sometimes the world makes that decision for us, doesn’t it?”
Returning home from work one afternoon, snow crunching underfoot and fluttering delicately from the clouds, Tsukishima heard bells chime to the left of him. He raised his head, hands leaving his pockets. To the side of him was the forest, a familiar and melancholic sight, but not what he expected. Had there always been an entrance to the woods here?
“Hello?”
The bells tinkled again, this time from further away. Tsukishima looked down at the driven snow and hesitated before successfully stepping into the boundary of the forest, sinking down to his ankles. He clicked his tongue in discomfort, but pressed on.
Somewhere deep in his chest, droplets of certainty pooled.
His breath puffed smoke in the cold air. It wasn’t long before muscle memory guided him to the old temple, the ledge significantly higher and easier to climb than anything else on the path. His knees clicked and creaked, and a beat of sweat formed at his temple. The snow soaked into his pant legs, numbingly cold.
The bells started up again, this time to the right. More insistent than before, they didn’t quiet down until Tsukishima found what he was looking for.
Oh.
There you are, he thought.
He only caught a glimpse before Koito broke out into a dash. Suddenly, they were seven, eight, nine, ten again, chasing each other through sand and leaves and snow. Tsukishima fell behind like he thought he would, but he remembered to keep his eyes on Koito’s tracks instead, veering and ducking, desperate as a bloodhound.
They were eleven, twelve, thirteen. Tsukishima’s heart pounded loudly, echoing in his eardrums. The frosty wind bit at him as he ran, but he could hardly think about anything other than the faint peal of bells and the flickers of black and red fur, and gray fabric against the whited-out terrain.
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen. Nothing of theirs came after thirteen. Fourteen, fifteen, Tsukishima tried to enter the forest to no avail, getting lost and spit back out into the village outskirts no matter through which way he entered. Sixteen, seventeen, he’d given up in practice, but never in heart. He dreamt of Koito more often than not, prayed to him before setting sail, wished he could enter the woods if only to leave gifts at Koito’s altar. Maybe the fact Koito was otherworldly and larger-than-life was what made the entanglement become so knotted up and snarled. Maybe Tsukishima just loved Koito more than life itself. Unhealthy, but realistic. He knew himself.
Eighteen.
Tsukishima’s legs were stronger now and they could carry him longer distances much quicker. The forest vibrated like a bowstring between them, strummed by the hands of fate. When the forest sang, it accelerated and reached crescendo, building up with piano keys and choir. He felt the magic of the trees course through him, endowing him with the energy to keep running even while his head spun and his lungs burned.
The bridge.
“You scared?”
Not this time.
With single-minded determination, Tsukishima smashed through the imagined barrier of the rope bridge. He was endlessly confident in Koito’s ability to protect him. His boots thumped noisily against the old wood and his weight rocked the planks, but it was over in seconds, back to chasing through thick snow and footprints.
The twists and turns became excessive enough that he worried he was about to be kicked out again when finally he saw the tangle of vines come into view. Koito’s home. And he was being invited in. The chimney puffed as if Koito had been in there the entire time.
Maybe he had, Tsukishima considered once he yanked the door open and saw the kitsune snuggled up on the living room cushions, tea cup half finished in hand, eyes fluttering open. The music quieted until it was little more than a plinking tune.
“Hi,” Tsukishima said first, chest heaving. He was completely, wholly, unable to stop smiling.
“Hey, you,” Koito tossed back. “Come sit.”
With only a handful of words, Tsukishima could sense how much Koito had grown. With a quick cursory look as he shucked off his winter wear, Tsukishima noticed three new tails. Five in total, one red and the rest black. Pride swelled as it always had.
Coming closer, Koito’s face had changed too. His whiskers were more subtle, not the wiry mess they once were. His yukata knitted into a more mature gray and white, though his satchel remained that burnt copper it always was. Tsukishima felt overwhelmed by the equal amounts of familiarity and freshness; how much he’d missed and how much they’d both stayed the same.
He ignored the urge to tackle Koito and instead sat cross-legged at the table and accepted the cup Koito pushed towards him. Once he caught his breath, he warmed his body with the herbal tea, groaning in thanks for Koito’s hospitality.
“You think of me so loudly,” Koito suddenly said, getting straight to the point. Tsukishima always liked his boldness.
Koito's elbow rested on the table, one finger twirling a lock of hair, longer and wavier than it had been before. That same mischievous look glinted in his eyes, but Tsukishima found it harder to read him now. For distance or for time, he wasn’t sure.
“Sorry." There was no point in denying it. If Koito hadn’t felt it over the last few years, then he’d surely felt it recently. “I guess—it’s my mother. She’s not well and I have to leave for almost a year. There’s no one here anymore who can look after her while I’m gone.”
Koito hummed. “What does that have to do with me?”
Once upon a time, Tsukishima may have flushed with embarrassment and tried to play it off with it’s no big deal or I can handle it.
This time, he couldn’t. Either he quit his job and lose his income for his mother’s food and treatment, or keep his job and leave his mother in the care of someone he couldn’t trust. It was more than that. He knew she had little time left and wanted her to be happy in the days that led up to that.
“I need someone to look after her. I don’t have anyone else I can trust,” said Tsukishima, explaining the reasoning he'd wracked his brain over. He put his hands on the table. Palms against the wood. “I trust you.”
“After all this time?” asked Koito, amused, but feigning a worried tone. “We were childhood friends, Tsukishima-san. You shouldn’t let nostalgia grip you this way.”
Tsukishima pressed on, although those words felt like a rock sinking in his gut. “I know it pleases you terribly to know you’re the only other one I hold close. I know your kind are possessive creatures and I know you’re no exception.” Tsukishima slid his hands over the smooth tabletop slowly, inching towards Koito’s own. “I never stopped caring about you, Koito-sama. I thought about you daily, hourly, you have to know that.”
He wished he could show his devotion with action, but Koito was someone who needed words and assurance. Facts that couldn’t be misconstrued with overthinking and anxiety.
Koito looked to the side, brow wrinkled with thought. He was a young adult now, with a list of responsibilities passed along by his father and other forest dwellers. He shouldn’t have had the time to consider Tsukishima’s request, but still he did. Weighed the pros and cons even though he’d decided the moment he’d seen those eyes again. That face.
Tsukishima looked exhausted.
“Can I ask you something first?” Koito examined his nails, sharp and plucky like claws. His voice sounded tight and brittle, not like the Koito he knew. It was as if a wall had formed around Koito, encasing him in ethereality and untouchableness. Tsukishima nodded and Koito took a deep breath.
“What were we?” he asked, then held up a finger to silence Tsukishima when the man opened his mouth to reply, “Ah. Don’t. Please, just”—a cracked whisper—“think about it first. Why do you still hold me in your heart? What was I to you? ”
How could he describe Koito?
There was a basket of throwaway lines and romantic sentiments in his mind, clumsily penned on scraps of paper.
Other half. Soulmate. Companion, best friend, kindred spirit.
Was it fair to dig deeper? Wouldn’t it burden Koito, having to deal with the easily-swayed and weakly-restrained hearts of men? Not to mention after all these years, just as Koito pointed out. Tsukishima wondered if it would be pathetic to acknowledge the laceration that had been carved into him, the ever-bleeding, petal-delicate hole in the center of his heart.
In the storm, Tsukishima had wished to see Koito just one more time. That wish had come true. Koito had been gone for so long, but he was here again. He’d never left the forest. He'd only ever been a few steps away.
These were simple truths. Ones that Tsukishima had known all along. He trusted that his soul would have told him otherwise. He couldn’t forgive Koito for their distance, because he found he didn’t blame Koito at all.
Though they lost time together, the years they once had weren’t something to scoff at. It felt weird to return to such endemic feelings from childhood, now repurposing them for the cusp of adulthood. These feelings had been everything to them, saturating their continual survival apart. At least, that was the case for Tsukishima. Koito’s mythicality wasn’t lost on him; he knew that whatever he felt between them had to be adjusted to meet the standards of gods.
That was how he found the words, under the murkiness of their relationship’s implausibility.
“You know,” Tsukishima said simply. He was confident in their inseparability, addicted to the long-lost feeling of wholesome assurance, of trust falls and of the best thing that ever happened to him. “You can hear my love, you feel it through the forest, you can see it in my dreams. I know you. You know I love you more than I’m able to rationalize, and I know you love me back, because you let me come home to you.”
Koito melted, walls tumbling down like they were made from twigs and leaves.
“Oh, Hajime,” he crooned and clutched Tsukishima’s hands, tears welling up and spilling over, “I do love you. I never stopped.”
(“Can I ask you something now?” Tsukishima asked, fidgeting with the blanket. They huddled by the window and watched the snowfall.
“Sure.”
“I read— a long time ago, I went to the library and. Ah.” Tsukishima scratched his neck, looking down at his lap. Koito opened his mouth to spur Tsukishima on, but he continued on his own. “I read a book about your... kind”—slow and careful—“I wanted to know if one day you’d become a messenger spirit. Or if that was just something off-base that humans made up.”
He took a sip of tea, as if to wash away the tacky vulnerability that coated his throat.
Koito leaned back on the palms of his hands. What a random question. He couldn’t discern why Tsukishima wanted to know so badly. “I could be. But my family comes from a line of guardian spirits. I like that. I wanna work on my own life, for my own purpose. Not someone else’s. Especially not some ancient Inari. I still get enough of that stuffiness from my father,” he ended with a huff, ears flattening for a moment from annoyance at the thought of being reduced to a messenger.
Tsukishima looked for something to say, but settled for a nod, glee sinking into his expression and lungs. He sipped his tea and relaxed into the cushion underneath him, satisfied with having learned more about Koito’s other life. Satisfied that duty wouldn't tear Koito away from him once they were reunited.
“Speaking of which,” Koito said, sounding much more uncertain than he had seconds ago, “I have something for you.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Koito-sama.”
Koito laughed. “You still let no one do nice things for you, Hajime. Hold out your hand,” he demanded, back straightened with confidence.
Tsukishima uncurled his fist and rested it on the table. He watched Koito root around in the satchel. Tsukishima never thought to ask what was in it, knowing only that Koito kept it close and never let it out of his sight. A dull excitement coursed through him at finally being let in. He’d already learned so much about Koito today, so much more than Koito had thought to share before.
Maybe that was just part of growing up, too.
Koito handed over the contents of his satchel. A cold pearl, about the size of an ume plum, but white and squishy. Not unlike an eyeball. Tsukishima tried not to wince. He rolled it around in his open palm a few times before looking up at Koito.
“What is it?”
“I thought you were well read on my kind,” he said, mocking Tsukishima’s earlier phrasing. “Have you heard of hoshi no tama?” Tsukishima shook his head. “I wanted to show you before you go. It’s like a piece of my soul. I can’t be away from it for long. We could… There's a way I can keep a promise to you, despite my duties to the forest. If you want.”
Tsukishima looked at him with confusion, brows creased. Koito wanted to pinch him out of frustration, but kept a calm demeanor.
“If I want?”
“You’ve taken that from me now,” Koito said, “and I’ll have to grant you an unbreakable wish to get it back.”)
The day Tsukishima came home, he had been nearly surprised to see that the village looked the same as it always had. It had not blown away or burnt down. The elderly villagers still strolled along the ports, waving to the sailors and the anglers. Children still tossed stones and sticks into the ocean, laughing raucously at large splashes and scattering birds.
In the distance, he could see his childhood home, small and tawdry, but not as depressing as he remembered it. For once, he was excited to go back.
“Mom, this is Koito-sama; Koito-sama, this is my mom,” Tsukishima said, a steadying hand on Koito’s lower back. His mother looked towards his voice blindly, but smiled regardless. It was a weak and trembling thing, but reassuring. She couldn’t say much, but wheezed out a polite greeting.
Koito stepped forward and placed his hand on Tsukishima’s mother’s. “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
A pause.
“She’s terribly amused,” Koito mumbled happily, grinning over his shoulder at Tsukishima, “almost like she expected this. Have you been talking about me to your mother?”
Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “In your dreams.”
“More like in yours.”
With a heavy thud, the boat docked and Tsukishima went through the motions with the crew to move the fresh produce to dry land, emptying the ship with practiced efficiency. By the end, his back creaked and ached something fierce. His knees wobbled on dry land. He huffed with the force of shouldering his rucksack, accepted his pay, and found his land legs on the trail through the village.
Something itched in his chest alongside his happiness. Something inauspicious that grew the longer he walked, until finally he opened the door and called out his usual greeting, dropping his belongings by the genkan.
The living room looked more lived-in than it ever had, but not because of his father’s presence. In fact, Tsukishima couldn’t really tell if he ever came back. The house looked more like Koito’s own than the empty, sad box it had been when he left. He followed warm light into his mother’s bedroom to see Koito kneeling by his mother’s bed, a damp cloth swiping over her brow. Koito hummed a soft tune, focused on his task. There were two new tails curled around him. Only one more to go.
“Hey,” Tsukishima choked out, fondness suffocating his tone.
Koito looked up and smiled, so far away from that little boy who would’ve knocked Tsukishima over with the force of his hug. Instead, he patted the space beside him and laced their fingers together once Tsukishima sat down.
“She’s been very strong,” Koito said, placing the hand towel back in the bowl of warm water it came from. “She wanted to wait until you returned.” He pecked Tsukishima’s temple. “I’ll be in the living room, okay?”
Tsukishima brought his attention back to his mother. She hadn’t moved since Tsukishima arrived; he wondered how long she’d been immobile for, robbed of her soothing voice and soft touch.
“Hi, mom,” Tsukishima whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He searched for her hand and held it between his own, careful not to jostle her. “I missed you.”
There were only a few things Tsukishima processed as his mother passed away. First, she squeezed his hand back as a farewell, the last of her strength given to that important task. Second, the peace on her brow—how long had it been since she hadn’t looked on the verge of tears? She looked content, which was all Tsukishima ever wanted for her.
Lastly, the glow surrounding her. There were spirits and sprites of all colors and shapes dancing around the room, tending to his mother and to other menial tasks. Tsukishima’s breath was stolen, a flood of emotions clamping down on his chest. Faintly, he knew his hands were shaking. When he let himself cry, it was a silent affair, head resting on the floor beside his mother’s futon. He breathed in her company and closed his eyes. Something inside him broke jaggedly and horribly, something he’d been preparing for it all his life. That didn't make it hurt any less.
“Sorry,” Tsukishima apologized several hours later, re-emerging into the main room. Koito was sitting by the window watching the sunset. It bathed him in a gorgeous ochre brown that Tsukishima wanted to reach out and touch. Koito was amazingly beautiful, always a sight for Tsukishima’s sore eyes. To lose him again so soon after getting him back had hurt like a broken bone, shattered again before being set.
Koito raised an eyebrow at the apology, but said nothing, opening his arms for Tsukishima to fall into. He ran his hand over Tsukishima’s head, lulling him into resting against Koito’s chest. Tsukishima sighed and snuggled further into the embrace.
“Thank you,” he said, but then frowned. “I guess I should get started on funeral preparations.”
When he tried to get up, Koito pulled him back down. “Just rest. You don’t have to put your mask back up just yet. The spirits will tend to her for now.”
“Okay.” Tsukishima easily gave in. “Okay.”
They were the only two that showed up, but Tsukishima preferred it that way. Though Koito could hide his foxlike traits now, it was better without that. He used the money he earned from his last job to pay for the services at the local temple, and the shrine was placed near the path Tsukishima used to frequent. The forest accepted her naturally. A small bird landed on her grave, twittering and young.
It wasn’t until it was all said and done that Tsukishima felt like he could turn to Koito again with proud shoulders and an open expression.
“What should we do?” Tsukishima asked, looking up at Koito, hand covering his face from the sun. How he longed to have seen the years give rise to this tall, elegant, and adult version of Koito. He looked pulled straight from a painting deserving of reverence and worship. Tsukishima was more than ready to give him that.
Koito smiled wide, his serious façade finally cracking off to reveal his playful self. “I dunno, what do you wanna do?” he shot back.
Tsukishima smiled and reached up, grabbing Koito’s yukata and guiding him downwards. “I want to kiss you.”
“I—f you must,” Koito pretended to appear disinterested, but, really, when would he learn that Tsukishima knew what a terrible liar he was? A flustered Koito was an adorable Koito.
With that, Tsukishima leaned in slowly, giving Koito another chance to back out. To tell him no, you’ve taken quite enough from me. Instead, Koito closed the distance, impatient as ever, pressing their lips together with doubtless affection, seeking that closeness he’d yearned for since before he could recall. You can have all of me, he conveyed, laying his arms around Tsukishima’s shoulders and deepening the kiss, clinging to every sound they made.
When Tsukishima pulled back, Koito bit his lip, silently begging him to stay.
“I’ not going a’ywhere,” Tsukishima said without the use of his bottom lip, trying and failing to hold back a laugh.
Koito let go with a pout and then knocked their foreheads together gently. Nuzzling. “Where will you go, then?” he asked. He was hooked on Tsukishima’s intimacy. The other forest dwellers would ridicule him for this backwards devotion, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
What was the point of waiting any longer? Life was only so short, love was only so rare, and they’d both waited so, so long.
“Wherever you want me,” Tsukishima said. A confession.
“Then come home with me.” Koito pecked his lips once more and then tugged on his hand. Without Koito’s scent and proximity clouding his thoughts, Tsukishima finally felt the joy of the forest and heard the orchestra of birds and bugs and that special hidden melody. Koito melded with the forest more completely than he ever had before, accepted and equal. Tsukishima couldn’t wait to hear the story behind whatever had knocked Koito off his high horse.
“I’ll race you.”