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It’s quiet atop the hill. Though there is sound from the festival below it’s faint. The sakura trees on this island are ever-blooming, drawing their nutrients from the electric aura that permeates through Inazuma City. It is the glory of the Raiden Shogun - one of the gifts to her people. At least, that’s what he remembers being taught.

The petals are falling from the trees like soft snow and they reflect the moonlight that’s now washing the city the same as snowflakes would. It creates a pink glow that makes the spot feel unreal and fairytale-like.

As the wind breathes through the trees Kazuha breathes into his lungs. Like the tide that flows from the moon’s pull, so the wind seems to guide his breathing.

It feels like he slips into somewhere between a memory, a dream, and the world around him.

He reaches into his pocket and draws out the fan. He flicks it open as he raises it to eye level. The showering petals immediately in front of him are swirled in the motion. His eyes meet Tomo’s. Tomo doesn’t move and his gaze fixes upon Kazuha.

He weaves the fan in a controlled, elegant arc through the air and the sakura follow it. Tiny sparks of electro light up the trails of the petals.

Tomo continues to watch him like he’s the only thing to exist.

Breathing, following the ebb and flow of the gentle wind around them, Kazuha moves along with his breath. He dances and the petals dance with him in slow, elegant motion. The electro lights up the space around them like sparklers.

The wind and electro feel as if they’re being controlled beneath his fingertips, by the slide of the fan in the air.

He weaves and dips like he’s guiding a blade - like in his memories, like his ghost had taught him to. Every movement is careful and precise. He dances and Tomo watches.

Tomo watches with those purple eyes. The electro lights them up and they remind Kazuha of the dreary skies, of lightning, thunder, and the mighty force of storms.

Kazuha’s vision flashes in and out of memory - between Tomo and his ghost.

The petals swirl through the air like a building storm.

Tomo.

His ghost.

There’s a swell of energy in the pit of his stomach that appears to match the motion of the wind. He swears he can feel the spark of the electro zapping all through his veins.

The ghost’s outline fades into Tomo in a perfect match - like a translucent veil is lifted from Kazuha’s vision.

He gasps and loses his footing, stomach clenching as he sees his upper body head over the edge of the cliff. Until suddenly he’s turned around and there’s a smack as his back hits the ground and Tomo’s hovering over him.

Tomo’s hands are pinning Kazuha’s wrists.

Memories of sparring matches that have ended like this are a film over his vision.

He stares into those purple eyes and he sees it, undeniably this time.

Kazuha sees his ghost.

And then every piece of the puzzle, every bit of his memory and feelings and Tomo’s actions falls neatly into alignment. It must show on his face, too, because Tomo’s hands move up to weave fingers between Kazuha’s.

Soft, almost broken, Kazuha asks the question he knows the answer to.

“We were lovers, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, little maple, we were lovers.”

________

”The sun has risen again and the hour of wakefulness comes upon us. Ugh.”

Typically a morning person, Kazuha finds that he isn’t excited about being up at the hour. After last night’s… fiasco… he’d requested a bottle of sake to his room when they returned.

He groans as he leans his head against his knuckles which are propped up by an elbow impolitely resting on the table. He hasn’t forgotten his manners so much as he doesn’t care. The light of the sun is too bright. The murmurings of the world attending to everyday life are too loud. And by the Raiden Shogun he’s much too tired.

He must have drank until the world went away and fitful sleep overcame him.

He’s sitting by himself eating breakfast. It’s later in the day than normal so the Estate is already alive with people going back and forth, attending to their duties.

It’s understandable that no one here would have time to keep him company.

What isn’t understandable is why Tomo doesn’t have the time to keep him company. Why they hadn’t followed one another into either one’s chambers. Why he didn’t wake up curled against Tomo’s side, head resting on Tomo’s breast.

Kazuha scrubs at his face and then gently pushes his rice bowl in front of him. It has just a few grains left - he’s not hungry enough now to get his dish refilled so he leaves them at the bottom.

He recalls the night before as he stares at his bowl.

Tomo’s palms are so warm in his, even in the one too scarred, nerves too damaged, to feel much of anything. Those amethyst eyes shine with the glow from the petals. They hold his gaze just as comfortably and sure as his hands are holding his.

Kazuha brings his head off the ground as Tomo lowers his.

Once more he’s paralyzed by the few centimeters that keep Tomo’s lips from touching him. This time, though, it’s not his cheek. This time, if either of them presses further into the air between them, it will be the soft skin of lips on another.

Deep in his gut Kazuha feels the spark of desire light its flame. Soon it will roar and burn him alive.

He looks at Tomo, really looks at him for the first time in he’s not sure how long, and he wonders why the man hasn’t moved.

Kazuha inhales unsteadily. The air catches in his lungs the way leaves catch on branches as they fall to the earth. He moves forward.

But he stops before their lips can meet.

“I’m sorry,” Kazuha whispers and lets his head fall back. “My body remembers but my mind does not.” And then it’s clear why Tomo had let him lead.

Tomo smiles and it’s slow the way it blossoms on his face. His eyes hood in a look of tenderness. Gentleness. Love.

“I will wait lifetimes if that’s what it takes for you to be ready. And if you never are - then I have memory enough to soothe any ache.”

Tomo presses up to his feet and bends over while stretching a hand out to Kazuha. Kazuha takes the hand and enjoys leaning into the strength of Tomo to get him upright. The breeze has quelled enough that it’s little more than a whisper of a breath on bare skin.

"C’mon, let’s go join the others.” Tomo nods his head towards the bottom of the island. He doesn’t wait for Kazuha to start walking, doesn’t offer his hand to hold, he just heads down.

Kazuha takes the moment of space to squeeze his eyes shut and press his hands against the side of his head. It still hurts to watch Tomo go and he can only wonder what happened to make it like that. Surely, he thinks, he wouldn’t feel it for no reason.

For a brief flash he can see the back of Tomo as if he were wearing his regular outfit and there’s lightning and-

Kazuha begins to run. He’s ready with the valid excuse that he needed to so he could keep up with Tomo.

The memory, thankfully, can’t catch him.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

#genshin #tomokazu #tmkz #tomo #kazuha