Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

chapter one.

The beast in the woods first brought the famine, and then the plague. The rice fields – once healthy and plentiful, burnt as though by magic on Kiyoomi’s final night in his own bed.

The sacrifice and the saviour.

More a pawn than a hero. The virgin, is what the shrine keepers once whispered in his father’s ear. Only an offering as pure as Kiyoomi could save them all. 

That day his mother instructed the family's attendant to pick flowers on the edge of the village for Kiyoomi’s good fortune in his new betrothal. Upon receiving them, he cut the heads off the dianthus’ and left them by his mothers bed for her. A bad omen, the shrine keepers had insisted with fear in their quivering voices. Perhaps he is not the one. His parents sent him to the woods regardless.

As a child, Kiyoomi had been the jewel of the Sakusa family. Polite, well-behaved and proper. A little blunt and too off-putting for others his own age though. Too quiet and often mean without realising. The girls in the village that his family insisted he play with disliked the awkwardness he brought with him, especially when he’d much rather read or paint and on rare occasion go riding with Motoya. 

That all ended when the beast first came, no less than two years ago and shortly after Kiyoomi’s nineteenth name day. Kiyoomi cut his long curls above his shoulders and refused to wear the robes his mother picked out for him. Motoya married, and moved to Kyoto to be near the girl's family and Kiyoomi was alone. 

The woods are vast and dark, clawed branches reaching up to the moon and obscuring the hundreds of tiny bright stars. There’s a dark cloud in the distance, and he senses a heavy rain – though it’s the last thing on Kiyoomi’s mind as he walks the long forest path to the beast's home.

He’s the sacrificial lamb headed to his own slaughter and he only hopes his father is right, that his sacrifice will work and peace and prosperity will be brought to the village. Only a bride, pure and untouched, could tame the beast and prevent any more suffering. It feels like a cruel joke, Kiyoomi surmises, as he walks in his brightly coloured bridal robes, layers and layers of the finest fabric his family could afford. One final punch to the gut from his father. His mother had not wanted children, though the choice was not her own, and his father had only wanted Katsuki. 

He thinks of all the rumours – the whispers amongst the men and women of the village about the beast. That it takes the shape of a great wolf, standing over ten feet high and that it snatches babes from their mothers breast and unruly children from their beds once the candles have blown out. That it stitches the faces of its victims grotesquely into its dark, matted fur. Or that you can see your own death in its dark, soulless black eyes. All speculation and no logic and Kiyoomi has never been one to believe such things, but the stories of the beast follow him all through the woods and he cannot help the paranoia as it worms its way into his mind.

The path this deep in the forest is overgrown and barely trodden, only vague indents in the earth made by only the most skilled of hunters are laid out in front of him. Since the beast built its home here, only the bravest – or stupidest, trek this far from the village. A wild wind howls, billowing through the uncomfortable fabric of his bridal robes. It’s a chilly night and he hides his hands inside the large sleeves and walks on against the battling wind. He thinks of his cousin, who he has not seen nor spoken to in several moons, and how it will take several more for the news of his demise to reach him in Kyoto.

Every step is agonising, physically, from his ill-fitted clogs, and metaphorically in that the will to survive dwindles with movement forward. Eventually he meets a fork in the road where one of the paths – the least trodden of them all, with overgrown bushes and branches blocking his way, leads to the lair of the beast. Kiyoomi hesitates, glancing back the way he came – it’s so foggy, he can barely see ten feet behind himself, before shaking himself off and turning back to the path leading to the cabin.

He has a duty to fulfill; to save the village. The beast will likely kill him, but it’s worth it, it will appease the beast and the village will be free from its torment. These are the words his father chanted to him in the weeks leading up to tonight. And there is no turning back now, Kiyoomi realises with a long hard swallow. It’s time.

One step forward, then two, his legs moving automatically. Tap, tap, squelch – as he steps into a puddle, his sandals wet and ruined. That will be him soon when the wolf has its long, sharp claws on him. In spite of his sheltered upbringing, Kiyoomi knows what husbands do to their wives and a wolf will be no different, likely worse. With its tongue and teeth and breath that smells of the hundreds of bodies it has ripped to shreds and consumed.

Kiyoomi knows his duty, he was taught well enough. Lie back, or on all fours if it fancies the humiliation. His robes might be ripped open and maybe his skin will too. It’ll hurt, but it won’t last long. His mother was drunk when she spoke of her wedding night while Kiyoomi sat uncomfortably beside her and spat out the wine she gave him when she wasn’t looking. She had spoken as though Kiyoomi had no knowledge of such things, but he understands more than most. If it is anything like before, death will surely come as a blessing. 

The cabin sits on low stilts at the edge of a large clearing. Kiyoomi fights his way through the bushes and overgrown plants, wincing when thorns scratch at his hands and get caught in his hair. It’s a fairly underwhelming home, though the garden that surrounds it is well kept, meticulously so, with herbs and vegetables growing by the front of the house. There looks to be a chicken coop and a small structure separate from the house made of the same wattle and daub. Once through the thick undergrowth, his sandals tap on a stone path that leads to the porch. He drags his feet forward, slow, his socks caked in dirt. He barely dares to breathe, but absorbs as much of the fresh night air as he can. He glances at the moon, large and round, just in case it’s the last time he ever sees it. 

A dim firelight flickers through two of the windows and suddenly, the front door creaks open as though it has a will of its own. The scent of burning wood and something earthier curls in the air—animal, musk, the coppery tang of something Kiyoomi can’t place. The wind howls in warning, so strong if he were the petite girl his parents always wanted then he would have toppled over. A chill creeps in, slow and then all at once and he’s stepping forward up to the porch and to the doorway for the warmth— and danger, that lurks inside.

He makes short, shuffling steps inside and the moment he’s in the threshold the wooden door suddenly slams closed and he jumps, hand over his mouth to stop himself from yelling out loud. The force lf it blows out several of the candles and the room is shrouded in darkness. 

“Ya took yer time, Sakusa-kun.”

A voice sounds through a heavy cloth curtain and when Kiyoomi whips around to look for the beast – for it couldn’t be anyone else, it’s a trick, an illusion. There’s a dim silhouette of a man through the thin material, ignited by the remaining lanterns. The man appears stocky, though a few inches shorter than Kiyoomi. He realises he should have expected this kind of trickery and Kiyoomi slowly reaches into his pocket to caress his thumb over his knife. It’s one he stole from the kitchens back home – he’s never been good with his fists so hopes it isn’t as blunt as it feels. Wolf skin is as thick and impenetrable as armour but like all things, can surely be killed.

“Yer really just goin’ to stand there like an idiot? I’m guessin’ they sent me a farmgirl who’s mute as well as stupid,” the man says through the curtain, somehow irritated. The sharp tone of his voice causes Kiyoomi to wince and he hopes the beast, if this is it, is not displeased with him already. 

“I’m no farmgirl,” Kiyoomi retorts automatically, cursing himself for his inability to hold his tongue. No farmgirl, and certainly no girl. “If this is all a trick, I would prefer it if you came out and…did whatever it is you plan to do with me.”

The laugh that follows through the divider is oddly human and it sets Kiyoomi on edge. Does the beast know magic? Is it really a shapeshifter? Or a demon?

“Sure, I’ll show ya, farmgirl.” The man – beast, raises a hand to the cloth. “If I were you, I’d close yer eyes.”

Kiyoomi can’t help but snort, gripping the knife tighter. “I will do no such thing, I will look upon you.”

“Alright, but if ya run, I’ll catch ya,” he says with a shrug before peeling back the cloth separating them.

When Kiyoomi blinks, he realises he is no longer looking upon a man but a giant wolf on its hind legs, standing with its ears brushing the ceiling. Told ya, comes the accented voice, as though it were broadcast inside Kiyoomi’s own mind. It startles him so strongly that he trips over his own sandals. Staggering backwards, he trips over the chabudai at the centre of the room and knocks over several ornaments. He pulls out the knife, though stupidly drops it from how hard his fingers tremble as he clutches it. The blunt object clatters to the floor and the wolf looks at him with an amused crinkle in its bright eyes.

“Please…” Kiyoomi murmurs, the colour draining from his face when the beast stretches out a leg and kicks the knife away from them. 

It dwarfs everything around it and its clawed hands are long at its sides, the fur dark and shadowy in the low lamplight. It is not as tall or monstrous as the stories told, but it’s head is double the size of Kiyoomi’s and it must be two or three feet taller than he is in his clogs. The beast is naked, and Kiyoomi doesn’t need to ask to know what it must want from him. At the realisation, fear overtakes Kiyoomi as his back hits the wall and he pats behind him until he finds the door handle, not daring to take his eyes from the creature for a moment. 

I’m bettin’ I’m faster than ya, it says in his head, so ya can run but I’ll only drag ya back kickin’ and screamin’. Sure we’d both rather not do that, huh, Sakusa? I got food, drink and a warm nest fer ya to settle into. I want ya here almost as little as ya wanna be here bu–

“You…Are some kind of Tengu, get out of my head! Demon!” Kiyoomi yells, finally losing his patience as his anger and fear bubble over. Fiddling in the pocket of his robes, Kiyoomi manages to pull out his Ofuda, which he holds weakly in front of him in the hopes it might repel the creature. Instead, all he hears is a barking laugh that bounces around in his skull. It’s making fun of him.

I ain’t too different from you, Sakusa-kun.

The latch peg is down, so Kiyoomi swings the door open with all his might and runs off into the night. Before he makes it to the fence at the edge of the beasts land, the clouds spill over and the rain comes down hard and fast, drenching his hair and fine clothes in seconds. 

Through the wind and rain, he hears the voice of a human behind him.

“Wait! Shit, shit, shit,” a man (the beast?) swears, though Kiyoomi does not stop nor does he turn back around to face him. “Sakusa, wait! Don’t turn around! Listen to me goddamnit!”

At the fence, Kiyoomi finally stops, out of breath, his legs burning from exertion. Against the voice’s warning, he turns around.

…And is face to face with the beast once more.

Rain blurs his vision and his kimono is heavy, his straw sandals squelching wet in the grass and mud. He has no weapon anymore, only a small toothed hairpin which he rips free from his hair and holds out defensively.

“Stay back! I am not marrying you,” he hisses, deciding he will not go down without a fight. “Let me leave. Do not pursue me!”

Where are ya goin’ to go? The voice in his head sounds with an infuriatingly smug undertone. Ya can’t go back to yer family, and ya won’t last a week in the wilderness lookin’ like that, princess.

Anger and hurt flash in Kiyoomi’s vision. He uses them to fuel him and without warning throws himself at the beast, the sharp end of the hairpin raised to jam right into its eye or neck. Kiyoomi is tall, much to his parents' chagrin, but the beast is far taller and broader and he hears its laughter in his head. He doesn’t get within two feet of it before he’s roughly grabbed by the waist and hoisted up in the air as though he weighs absolutely nothing.

“No!” He screeches, kicking and hitting the beast's large forearms as hard as he can. In the struggle, he had dropped the hairpin into the mud, but he fights anyway, scratching his nails down the beast's arm in a panic. “Don’t…Let me go, I will kill you!”

Clawed hands dig painfully into his waist, and Kiyoomi imagines them crawl up his body like dozens of tiny spiders, tainting him and spreading unwanted heat throughout his entire body. He yells out loud, legs kicking out uselessly at the beast's solid abdomen in a panic.

Will ya stop strugglin’? I ain’t goin’ to hurt ya! 

“You lie,” Kiyoomi spits, “get out of my head you demon!”

The beast seems to sigh – if that’s possible, before unceremoniously dropping Kiyoomi onto the ground. Kiyoomi doesn’t expect the fall, and he drops with a splash to his knees in the mud, his robe ruined and caked in dirt. 

“Now, will ya sit the fuck down and let me talk or are ya doin’ to attack me again?”

“...What?” Kiyoomi gasps out loud, turning and looking at the wolf with his mouth dropping in shock. “You talked. Like a human. What kind of shapeshifter are you?!”

The wolf curses. Can ya close yer eyes, or look away when I talk to ya? Please?

Kiyoomi scoffs, rising on wobbly feet and kicking off his ruined sandals – he winces when his wool socks squelching uncomfortably on the ground. “You think I am a fool?”

Fine, we’ll talk like this, the beast says as it’s irritation flares, snapping his sharp teeth at Kiyoomi. Yer stuck here. If ya run away, you’ll die. If ya return to yer village, they’ll either kill ya or drag ya back to me. So yer options are limited. Will ya come inside and calm down? 

With a scowl, Kiyoomi observes the beast carefully, realising it is not at all what he had expected. His heart thrums impossibly fast and Kiyoomi eyes the beast suspiciously, still expecting it to rip out his throat at any moment.

After several tense, silent seconds, his shoulders sag and he physically deflates.

“I suppose there is nothing I can do…I-if you plan to kill me, I will fight back. If you touch me, I will fight even harder. Even if I die.”

That’s fair, the wolf chuckles. I ain’t goin’ to hurt ya as long as ya don’t hurt me. Come out of the rain before ya get sick, I ain't nursin' ya back to health as well as providin' fer us.

The walk back to the house in the rain is solemn, Kiyoomi dragging his feet on the ground as he trails several feet behind the wolf. He starts to tremble from the cold, the layers of clothing doing nothing for him now he’s soaked to the bone. 

Inside the house, Kiyoomi lingers by the doorway in case he wants to run while the wolf pulls back the cloth curtain. It leads to a sleeping area with a futon laid out for him and Kiyoomi shivers, realising there will be no walls or doors between them at night. 

This was my den, but I’ll let ya have it fer now. Figured women like privacy. There’s plenty of clothes…And ya can have a bath if ya fancy, ya look cold.

“I’m surprised you live in a house,” Kiyoomi comments as he gazes around the room, ignoring the beast as it talks. “...It looks normal. Not at all like the lair of a beast.” 

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but not this. The home is a little more decadent than the peasant houses in the village, with tatami mats lining the floors and a kitchen area to the opposite end of the room, with a low chabudai and four cushions that look far too small for a beast of his stature. There’s even an altar with fresh flowers placed at it, which shocks Kiyoomi the most.

Yeah? Like I said, I ain’t much different to ya or anyone else.

There are a lot of things in the house that are…Awfully human. A wolf would have no use for dainty tea cups or a bow and quiver, or clothes.

“You are no man, what are you?” He bluntly asks the wolf, unable to cease his curiosities. “Did you kill the owner of this house?”

The beast laughs sharp and sudden, a sound that ricochets in Kiyoomi’s mind and leaves him feeling dizzy and sick. Sometimes I wish I could. But no, my idiot brother owns this technically. I’m just sweet and charmin’ enough fer him to let me live here.

“There are more of you?” Questions Kiyoomi, fighting the losing battle at keeping the fear from his voice. “How many? Where? Are they all…Like you? Have they attacked the village as well?”

The beast growls at the thinly veiled insult and Kiyoomi shrinks back, almost falling onto the futon laid out for him. There’s nobody like me, darlin’, it says, a silky purr. I’m not a beast, at least, I wasn’t born this way. And I’ve never attacked yer village, as temptin’ as it has been lately.

If ya trust me, I’ll show ya if ya close yer eyes.

“Like I said. I will do no such thing,” Kiyoomi sneers in a burst of annoyance, his patience for the beasts toying wearing thin. “As everyone is intent on keeping me here, I will stay for now.” For now, he thinks, as he will run free when the opportunity presents itself if he survives that far. If he can make it to Motoya, he can assume a new identity and start fresh in a city where nobody knows his name or his heritage. “Where do I bathe? Have you a furo here?”

The beast seems to grin, if that is possible, and takes a long step to the side – almost knocking into the chabudai as though he were not familiar with his own furniture, or he is not used to such a large form. Right there fer ya, highness.

Kiyoomi baulks.

There is only an old chipped wooden tub, that looked as though it may have once been an adequate bath several decades ago.

If ya noticed, we’re in the sticks. This is as good as yer gettin', I bathe at the river in summer.

“That is not surprising,” Kiyoomi says, wincing the moment he opens his mouth. He expects to be struck for his tongue, but the beast only laughs and turns to approach the Kamado, packed against the daub walls, a giant pot of water already heating over the flame on the stove. “What are you doing?”

Fetchin’ yer damn water. Get undressed. Assumin’ ya don’t want to strut about naked, pick whatever robe ya like. 

“Hmph,” Kiyoomi says petulantly. “I will not bathe or undress in front of you, betrothed or not.” He looks away at the pile of clothes on the futon, all different colours, some fine silks with beautifully embroidered patterns. Not what the boys in the village would wear, but Kiyoomi enjoys the feel of the soft material against his skin regardless. “Don’t you have anything simpler for me to wear?”

There’s a scoff from across the room…A very human scoff. When Kiyoomi whips his head around, the wolf is nowhere to be seen – banging around inside a small pantry beside the kitchen.

“Ya get what yer given, what, fine silk ain’t enough?”

“It’s…Very feminine,” Kiyoomi says with a flush. “Why can I hear you now?”

“Because,” it starts, sounding irritated all over again. “This is what I sound like. I’ve been tellin’ ya, but yer stubborn as hell.”

It's Kiyoomi's turn to scoff. “What’s your name?” He interrogates, clutching one of the plainer robes as he leaves his sleeping area and stands in the main room, eyes fixed on the pantry entrance – no door, it’s simply a hole in the wall made of the same daub and wattle.

“Atsumu,” the man– beast, it’s an illusion sent to lower your guard! Screw your head on Kiyoomi! “Miya. Have ya got a first name, or will I have to call ya Sakusa-kun? That’s an awful mouthful ya know.”

“I would prefer that actually, yes, Miya.”

“Oh hell no, if yer meant to be my bride, I gotta know the name that comes with it.”

Kiyoomi scrunches up his face in annoyance. “Why are you hiding in there? Are you trying to lure me in?”

“God,” Atsumu laughs out loud, “ya sure ask a lotta questions. No, I ain’t, I’m stayin’ in here ‘cause it’s the only way to have a proper conversation with ya. Haven’t ya noticed I sound different when yer not lookin’ at me?”

“It’s some kind of witchcraft, I know it,” Kiyoomi tells him, eyes searching frantically around the home for his knife, the fear beginning to rise with each passing second he cannot see his captor.

“You folks down here really are superstitious, huh? It ain’t a trick, it’s me.” To prove his point, he walks back out from the pantry and stands there, in his wolf form, as tall as the ceiling and as menacing as ever. See? I’m cursed. Turn yer back.

“Not this again.”

Fine. The booming sound of the wolf’s voice in his head makes Kiyoomi flinch, but before he can react the wolf is turning and hiding back inside the pantry again. “See? It’s real fuckin’ inconvenient havin’ ya here like this. Why’d ya think I live alone?”

“...You…You can’t be…” Against his better judgement, Kiyoomi crosses the room to the kitchen area, swiping a knife from the large butcher's table, and stands in the doorway of the pantry, knife hidden behind his back. “You’re no man. Now please, grant me this one wish and let me bathe in peace, or I’ll…” He squeezes the knife behind his back. “You don’t scare me.”

Really? The wolf approaches him, stopping a mere three feet from where Kiyoomi stands and shivers, from what he tells himself is only the cold. Ya sure about that, Sakusa-kun? His voice turns syrupy sweet and taunting, the wolf flashing his big teeth to scare him.

There were three Sakusa siblings, weren’t there? Katsuki, the eldest, then Kasumi– Kiyoomi flinches at the mention of his sister, how he misses her. And Kiyoomi. Ya look like a Kiyoomi, don’t ya?

“Do not…Be so familiar with me, my family might have told you we are to be betrothed, but it is no more than a title.”

Shouldn’t you be Miya-kun then?

The wolf opens its large mouth, as though to flash Kiyoomi an open-toothed smile. This close, Kiyoomi can see the gold in his eyes and the shininess of his fur, his soft ears, the defined muscles and the…Kiyoomi snaps his head up, pointedly staring up at the wolf’s face with his cheeks flushing pink. 

“Kiyoomi…My name is Kiyoomi, but I prefer Sakusa…Can you…Put some clothes on?” He says, taking a generous step away from it, suddenly feeling hot and uncomfortable at their proximity, his heart pounding - suddenly very aware that they are alone and if Kiyoomi were to scream, as always nobody would come for him.

Don’t think they make ‘em that big. When the wolf takes a step towards him, Kiyoomi barely notices, his breaths quickening as his mind seems to travel to a distant memory against his will. Fight or flight kicks in and he abruptly turns and sprints across the kitchen. No, No, Omi, wait!

As he runs, he skids along the mat in his wet socks, tripping over the ornaments he knocked onto the floor earlier. It doesn’t deter him as he sprints back towards the door until a hand reaches out and forcefully grabs him and then everything turns black.

He doesn’t speak, not right away, as he fights his attacker, shouting, kicking, clawing at the man's arms with his blunt nails as he tries to pry the human fingers from his face.

“--yoomi, Kiyoomi-kun, hey, stop, ow– fuck!”

When the human voice, a soft timbre against Kiyoomi’s ear, sounds and he realises that the voice is not of the wolf, and the hand covering his face is fleshy, warm, hairless and human, he freezes, panting heavily. The panic simmers beneath the surface, but trapped, caged against the human body, he does nothing but stand there limply. 

“I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“Yer alright, sorry fer springin’ on ya, but do ya see now?” With a trembling hand, Kiyoomi grasps Atsumu’s wrist with a gasp, struggling against his hold again. Atsumu, the huntsman, is no match for him. “Stop fightin’ me fer two seconds. I’m showin’ ya not to be afraid of me, ‘cause I’m human, like you.”

“Please…Let go of me,” Kiyoomi whispers, a small sound, barely registering Atsumu’s words from the gushing sound of water in his ears. “I don’t like to be touched.”

“Alright, alright,” Atsumu says softly, “I’ll let go of ya, just promise not to pick that knife up ya dropped, and keep yer eyes closed and I’ll tell ya everythin’”

It took Kiyoomi a long time to calm his breathing, hating himself for his sudden panic - an ailment the village doctors had failed to cure, but with his back turned to Atsumu, he allowed the man (because, if it is true what he says, then he is made of the same flesh and lifeforce as Kiyoomi) to clean and fill the tub with hot water while he explained himself.

A curse…

One he was affected with after sleeping with the daughter of a witch down in Settsu Province, where he grew up. When Atsumu is looked upon by a human, he switches to the beast in the blink of an eye, but the moment they look away, he’s Atsumu again.

“The witch was dyin’, seems even her magic couldn’t stop the influenza. ‘Samu and Aran, that’s my twin and best friend, both ransacked her cabin after she passed fer the cure but they came up empty. We spent a good few years tryin’ to find a way to break it, and nothin’” There’s a pause, as he fills the last of the tub and sets down a small tray of hemp cloth, soaps and oils for Kiyoomi to use. “I came down here to be away from everyone and I’m guessin’ I’m the scapegoat fer the trouble in yer village.”

“I’m not sure if I believe you,” Kiyoomi says from inside the sleeping partition, as he removes his ruined socks and tries to scrub clean his cold, numb feet. “You could be lying to make me lower my guard around you.”

“Omi-kun,” Atsumu starts, a new, infuriating nickname he has taken to. “If I was goin’ to hurt or kill ya, I wouldn’t need yer trust to do it. I didn’t want an extra mouth to feed, but I agreed to this arrangement with yer father to stop the village from turnin’ on me. I’ll look after ya, feed ya, treat ya as any gentleman should, and once yer ready – if you wanna, I’ll arrange transport anywhere ya like and we won’t need to see each other again.”

Sceptical, Kiyoomi says nothing as he nervously strips down in his partition to wash for his bath. 

“I have a question, if that’s alright with ya,” Atsumu sheepishly begins after a long pause, “I was told you were a girl. But ya don’t…When I’m in my wolf form, I can smell ya pretty strong, and yer no girl.”

Kiyoomi swallows thickly, awaiting the inevitable taunt that seems to never come. “Yes, I’m a boy,” he says, “you will address me as such.”

“Alright,” – is all Atsumu says, the singular word shocking Kiyoomi to silence from where he stands with the cloth running along his bare, mole-dotted legs. 

“You…Are okay with that?”

“I’m a wolf, yer a boy, I’d be a hypocrite if I judged ya fer shit.”

“I have a girl's body,” Kiyoomi says abruptly, frowning at his own honesty. “Not that it’s any of your business. But if we’re…If you wish to consummate this union, then I supposed you ought to know.”

Atsumu snorts at that and when his feet pad across the tatami mat past the partition, Kiyoomi tenses, poised to fight if need be. “I gathered that…Just stop talkin’ like I’m goin’ to force ya to sleep with me fer chrissakes, yer safe here.” Kiyoomi doesn’t know if it’s another lie, so he says nothing, on high alert as he listens for Atsumu as he tidies up the room. “...I suppose thats why ya weren’t too impressed with the robes I had delivered fer ya.”

“They are fine,” Kiyoomi tells him, “Just impractical and stiff.”

“I shoulda known you’d be a picky one,” he hears Atsumu say, as he clatters around in the kitchen area. “What d’ya want me to do with yer weddin' attire?”

“Burn them,” Kiyoomi says without skipping a beat. “You’ll…I would like if you fetched them for me. I dislike touching dirt…The texture…” He coughs awkwardly, feeling a lot like how he does when he meets someone new and they are quickly made aware of his peculiarities. "I don't like getting sick."

“Well, yer bath’s ready, yer free to come get warm. I’ve got a deer to skin so I’ll leave ya to it, just don’t go runnin’ off on me ‘cause it’ll be a pain lookin’ fer ya in these woods.”

Before the front door opens and closes shut, Kiyoomi considers thanking him, but the lingering fear and anger at his own situation prevents him from doing so, as he waits several moments to be sure Atsumu won’t jump out on him in the nude, before creeping around the partition to bathe.

The water is welcome and as he sinks into the tub, notices the mugwort burning in the cabin and wonders how a beast such as the wolf could be so oddly thoughtful…And so human.

He doesn’t trust him yet, isn’t sure whether Atsumu truly means what he says, but somehow, if he is telling the truth, then this cabin is the safest place Kiyoomi has been in years. The thought of that is depressing.

Over the next several minutes, he tries to empty his mind, his brain so full of thoughts that he fears they might spill out from his ears. He washes his body, scrubbing himself red raw as he runs the soap up the length of his legs and chest, scrubbing each arm before moving to his back. When he brushes past his sex, still mildly sore and bruised, his mind wanders to the wolf’s large cock, and the way it hung heavy between his legs, swinging back and forth as he’d stood so close to Kiyoomi, he might have been able to touch it. 

After moving to his hair, Kiyoomi thinks dangerous thoughts that he ought to be ashamed of. Of the wolf, and how his parents – especially his father, would despise him terribly if they could see him like this now. 

It’s only when he hears footsteps from the porch, does he jump suddenly and pull himself from those dangerous thoughts, digging his fingers into the bruises on his waist to ground himself to the present. 

Before the water turns cold, he is stepping out and drying off with the hemp cloths, quickly slipping into a thin kosode, followed by a pale yellow robe. With the knife he stole securely in his hands, he bundles himself onto his futon, surrounded by animal furs and blankets, and waits for the beast to return.

It seems he is gone so long, Kiyoomi can barely keep his eyes open and he collapses against the wall coverings, knife still in hand, and drifts into his first dreamless sleep in weeks.

As he drifts in and out of sleep, he vaguely registers a calloused hand grasping his own, prying open his fingers so the knife can be removed from his grip. There’s an inviting voice, one that almost beckons him forward, and hands that comb through his hair, before he is lowered to the ground carefully with a blanket pulled up to his chin.

Chapter Text

chapter two.

The first night in the wolf’s den has Kiyoomi battling sleep. At first he falls easily, but then he wakes less than an hour later and spends much of the night tossing and turning. He finds the knife beside his futon, confused that Atsumu had let him keep it. When sleep doesn’t come for another hour he sits with his back to the wall – the knife clutched so tightly in his hands it creates indents in his palm. He fell asleep a second time, though woke in the depths of the night and was almost stricken with panic until he remembered where he was. 

He’d listened to the sound of Atsumu’s breathing from the other side of the curtain for a long time too – a  soft and rhythmic sound. At one point he had considered sneaking past and running out into the night, but the woods are dark and deep, with paths that wind like a maze with danger at every corner. Instead, when he woke for the third time, he sat bunched up against the wall in an awkward position until he had a stiff neck and legs and dawn began to approach.

It isn’t long before he notices the fresh smell of breakfast – eggs, rice and vegetables and it stirs him from his thoughts, the daylight now peeking through the sparse gaps in the curtain. Kiyoomi stands on wobbly legs and stares down at the knife beside his futon, the handle smooth and inviting as he debates bringing it out with him. He leaves it behind, slipping it under the futon out of sight lest Atsumu change his mind and try to take it from him. 

“Mornin’, Omi-kun,” Atsumu calls from what sounds like the kitchen area, his voice a cheerful tang – though the sound of it makes him flinch. “I’ve made ya somethin’ to eat, though I’d appreciate if ya waited in there…Or just, y’know, closed yer eyes when ya came out. Ya can sit at the chabudai, I warmed the hibachi if yer feet are cold.” 

Kiyoomi, in his sleep-addled delirium, grips the curtain and almost pulls it back until he remembers the curse. Then, irritation sparks through him as he remembers he is here against his will, and he will not bend to the whims of such a creature – cursed man or not. 

“I will not lie back and do as you say because we are married.” And then he steps out from behind the curtain, standing in the room and glaring hard at Atsumu as he quickly shifts to his wolf form and drops the ladle in his hands, vegetables and hot broth splashing over his legs and on the floor. “I do not know you, so I will not walk around like a blind fool because it’s an inconvenience for you. We are not long-lost friends.” 

Can ya not just listen to me? Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu childishly kicks over the pot he’d been cooking, ruining his efforts. I know ya don’t wanna be here, but I am tryin’ to make it a little more bearable!  

Kiyoomi scoffs, though it is short-lived when the wolf pricks his ears at the sound and spins to face him with narrowed eyes. He barely has time to react before he’s backed against a tight corner with the wolf advancing on him with his teeth bared, poised to attack. Matching his glare, Kiyoomi stands and stares at him defiantly as the wolf bends to his height, his nose inches from brushing Kiyoomi’s own. Large teeth snap at him, and Kiyoomi can smell the strong, earthy musk from before.  

“You don’t scare me,” Kiyoomi says as confidently as he can manage while his trembling hands hidden behind his back. A large clawed hand slams into the wall beside his head, so hard that it vibrates beside his head and rattles his skull, part of the wall cracking under the beast’s palm. It makes Kiyoomi jump, arms shielding his head on instinct.  

The wolf steps away from him, a low chuckle erupting in Kiyoomi’s mind – though he doesn’t sound the slightest bit amused. I hope ya know how to cook, ‘cause I ain’t makin’ more, I got shit to do today. 

Kiyoomi swallows. “I can,” he lies, “but I won’t. I’m not hungry. I don’t need your food.” 

Fine by me, Miy– the wolf tells him, do what ya like.  

Backing away, he turns and crosses the room. His irritation bleeds into the rest of the house and Kiyoomi knows he ought to be more polite, especially when Atsumu did not ask for this either, but he stubbornly crosses his arms and disappears into the sleeping partition instead. Why should he apologise? He has every right to act out, and he has no parents to spank or scold him for his wicked tongue.

As he changes into some day robes, he can hear a quiet mumbling sound – the sound of Atsumu talking, though his voice is too low to make out. Kiyoomi tries to listen, standing as still and silent as he can. He dares to peek through the curtain at him, momentarily forgetting the curse, and when the beast is in view – his back turned to Kiyoomi, there’s a loud crash and a curse that rattles Kiyoomi’s skull. And then more bangs and crashes, the sound of something breaking, before Kiyoomi falls back onto the futon and bundles himself up, frightened. 

“Yer a real fuckin’ piece of work y’know that,” he hears Atsumu growl. “Ow, I was fine by myself before ya came here, I reckon I should have just slaughtered yer entire village to save me the trouble of havin’ to babysit some prissy little prince who’s too good to eat with a commoner.” 

“I am sure it’s a real inconvenience for you,” Kiyoomi hisses, braced with the knife grasped in both hands in case the wolf comes tearing through the curtain to attack. 

Atsumu doesn’t, though there’s another chorus of curses and more clattering, he sound of fabric moving as Atsumu dresses, and then Kiyoomi hears heavy boots angrily stomp across the tatami mats before the front door swings open. “I’ve got to go repair my fencin’ and check the horse. Stay the fuck inside…Or go get lost in the woods, whatever ya want.” 

“A utter child,” Kiyoomi comments once the door slams shut, before he finishes dressing and allows his annoyance to simmer. There is no mirror, so he awkwardly neatens his curls with his fingers and hopes for the best.  

After that, with little else to do, he sits behind the curtain for what feels like forever. Waiting. Too on edge to leave the safety of his sleeping area. 

It seems as though Atsumu is intent on avoiding him for much of the day, which is fine by Kiyoomi, he thinks. Though he is quick to grow bored with no books or anything else to entertain himself with and he drags himself to his feet, cautiously shuffling from behind the curtain to snoop around the house. 

He steps to the window by the door. Peering out, he cannot see Atsumu, and his shoulders sag in relief that the man is likely far away and he pads around the room in search of something to do. 

Atsumu has set up a temporary bed in one corner of the room. There appears to be no futon, only the spare blankets and animal furs making up his bedding. Nothing of interest, just that strong, almost enticing woodsy musk emanating from the layers of sheet. The scent makes Kiyoomi’s head feel heavy and strange so he leaves the bedding alone and explores the small kitchen where the fire under the kamado is still lit, though the bowl that would have contained his breakfast is mostly empty. 

The pantry is cooler, the walls thicker and well insulated and the floors are packed with dirt instead of tatami mats. Venison cuts hang from the ceiling, and the shelves are lined with dried herbs and some vegetables, cooking utensils and hunting supplies. It’s bare, evidence that someone lives here alone. Kiyoomi wonders if Atsumu is frustrated that he now must forage and hunt for two. He has never hunted nor foraged before, and wonders if living off the land is an arduous task. It makes him a little guilty for making Atsumu spoil the breakfast. Winter nears, and food must grow scarce in the wilderness. 

The corner of the pantry is a mess and Kiyoomi picks up a wooden jar, fastening the lid before placing it back on the shelf. He wonders if it’s what he caused Atsumu to drop when he looked at him and a pang of guilt shocks his system when he sees the broken bow and quiver on the ground. 

Kiyoomi leaves without tidying, but he thinks about it for much of the morning as he attempts to clean the ruined breakfast from the floor in the kitchen, gathering up the spoiled food into a wicker basket on the ground to be disposed of outside. 

After that, the day passes in a listless monotony. Out of sheer boredom, Kiyoomi cleaned the entire hut. It wasn’t particularly messy, but with little else to do inside he found it the only way to pass the time. In the pantry, he nibbles on some raw vegetables to stave off the hunger. After cleaning, he finds a pail of water – likely from yesterday, though he’s too stubborn to venture outside in search of more lest he run into Atsumu, so he grimaces as he uses it to wash himself with.

When Atsumu returns, Kiyoomi hears his heavy footsteps on the porch and he quickly leaps up from where he’s sat at the chabudai, throwing himself to the safety of the curtain, diving onto the futon where he left his knife. 

“Alright, Omi?” He calls tiredly from the doorway, before closing and pulling the peg latch on the front door.  

Kiyoomi considers ignoring him, but he knows Atsumu will only pull back the curtain to check he hasn’t run away yet so he sighs. “Yes. I am here. Enjoying the quiet.” 

“Just checkin’, almost surprised ya stayed,” he hears Atsumu say with a snort. “Didja eat yet?” 

Once again, Kiyoomi considers ignoring him, though he doesn’t want Atsumu to lose his temper again and sighs deeply. “A little.” Flushing pink, he says no more, not wishing to divulge to Atsumu how he hasn’t the faintest idea how to cook. 

“...Were ya nibblin’ on my onions?” 

“You are asking a lot of questions,” Kiyoomi grumbles, his irritation flaring. “What does it matter?” 

“Fuck me– ” he hears Atsumu complain, quietly, as though it were to himself only. “I’m askin’ ‘cause I’ll make enough fer two if yer hungry.” 

“It’s quite alright,” Kiyoomi tells him, mentally cursing himself for declining food when he’d sneaked a carrot and an onion and had gazed longingly at the bag of rice in the corner. 

“Right…” He hears Atsumu mutter. “Whatever.” Then, after a lengthy pause as he ambles about the home: “Wait didja tidy up in here?” 

“I have high standards for cleanliness,” Kiyoomi informs him. “It’s one of my…Peculiarities.” 

“Ya callin’ me a slob?” 

“I was not,” he says, hiding his smirk. “You said that, not me.” 

“Oh, ya can be a little shit when ya wanna be,” he hears Atsumu say with amusement. “I reckon we could get on.” 

“Careful, Miya,” Kiyoomi tells him lightly. “You are a stranger to me.” 

“And how long will we play that game, Omi-kun?” 

Kiyoomi doesn’t respond. When silence fills the room, he hears Atsumu sigh distantly.

The evening passes like that with Atsumu chattering away to fill the silence, his mood picking up as he is now elated to have someone who has nothing to do except listen to him talk, while Kiyoomi tries to drown out his constant stream of consciousness. The man only quietens when he eats at the chabudai, and then he has chores to complete before bed, though as he stands to go outside, he shoves a bowl of rice and vegetables in the direction of the partition, leaving it by the curtain.  

Several seconds later there’s a thud. Atsumu unceremoniously dumps a box beside the bowl and quietly leaves. 

Kiyoomi waits several minutes before his interest piques and he pokes his head through the curtain to find a small wooden box, filled with books, writing instruments and paper, a needle and thread and his lost hairpin. He greedily drags the box inside and sits with it on his lap as he examines each object inside, hungrily munching on rice once he has picked out a book he enjoys the look of. 

Perhaps, he thinks as he takes out the embroidery kit minutes later, that Atsumu is intent on taking care of him until the time comes for him to leave. 

Or to be devoured and eaten, Kiyoomi has not surmised the beast's intentions yet. If he is anything like other men he has known, then he shall sit and wait in his bed for the inevitable.

On the fourth day, his luck runs dry. 

Kiyoomi’s nightmares return and he wakes before sunrise in a panic, hyperventilating as he clutches his chest and spends several moments with his eyes blinking into focus, reminding himself over and over again where he is. He tears out of his kosode, drenched uncomfortably in sweat, and doubles over, nude, as he wraps his arms around himself and tries the counting exercises his sister once taught him. 

Thinking of his sister, and how she would find Kiyoomi hiding under tables or in his room in the corner, and sit and smile and count numbers for him until he felt safe enough to leave. How she would hold out her arms, just in case he wanted a hug, and how she was never offended when Kiyoomi would breeze right past her without accepting the offer, to play with his wooden toys as though nothing ever happened. 

He thinks of the only time he did hug her, and how it was almost five years ago, on the day she left to travel south with her new husband after the wedding …Oh, how he’ll never hug her again.  

Only the press of his fingers into fading bruises pulls him back to the present, though he sits in a ball flat against the wall and tries to remember the last time he actually could cry. Motoya said doing so was healthy, but most of the adults in his life begged to differ, so he considers his cousin may have been trying to spare his feelings.  

He’s grateful that he’s unable to, for Atsumu snores softly on the other side of the curtain and Kiyoomi cannot bear the thought of waking him in such a pathetic state. 

On the sixth day, he wants out.  

Atsumu is never in the hut long, leaving after he’s eaten and left out a bowl of rice and meat at the chabudai for Kiyoomi. Like clockwork he returns a little before sundown, tired and seemingly in need of conversation as he tries to goad Kiyoomi into entertaining his whims for the evening. To Kiyoomi, it’s tortuous, and he sits and tries to ignore Atsumu while he writes or embroiders one of the robes until Atsumu’s voice grates on him enough for him to snap or announce he’s retiring for the evening. 

He wakes that morning after spending the night tossing and turning, rising long after Atsumu has left and his breakfast is cold and uneaten on the low table. It’s chilly in the cabin and Kiyoomi washes and dresses quickly, dressing in more layers than usual. He eats mechanically, grimacing at the slimy texture of the old food, before stealing one of Atsumu’s sacks and filling it with a few vegetables and dried meats. 

Today, he is going to try and leave. 

Being cooped up and alone with Atsumu is too much as the constant fear gnaws at him. Not only plagued with thoughts of the wolf tearing him limb from limb as he slept, but of being alone with a man – one he does not truly know. Kiyoomi can’t stand it, Atsumu promised he wouldn’t touch him, but the promise makes no sense. They are, though lacking in ceremony, technically married, and Atsumu is free to do with him as he wishes and yet they hardly see one another, only talking through the thin curtain each evening. It does nothing for Kiyoomi’s nerves, the sleepless nights and jitters draining him as he waits for the inevitable attack, be it from man or wolf. His best option is to run, he surmises. If he can disguise himself, make his way to the villages to the south where nobody knows him, he could find transport to Kyoto and start anew.

With newfound determination, he sets off, wholly unprepared for the outdoors but not thinking about it, and creeps out the front door and down the old stone path leading to the woods. He glances around frantically looking for the wolf, but it is nowhere to be seen, and he picks up the pace lest Atsumu is hunting nearby.  

Once he’s to the relative safety off the forest path, save for the distant calls of birds and the cicadas, it’s silent. Kiyoomi soaks in the midday sun on his pale skin, head tossed back with his curls glossy and soft in the bright light. 

The peace is welcome, even if it’s a fleeting sensation. 

But the sun warming his back is inviting and during the day, the woods are not as dark and frightening as they had been six days ago and he adjusts the bag on his shoulder before advancing onwards. 

Kiyoomi came from the east, so when he steps down the overgrown path and makes it to the fork in the road, he takes the path west, remembering when his brother and father had taken trips to the other villages in his youth, and how it had been a few days ride to the nearest trading post. As he walks, wishing he had some better shoes for the bumpy terrain, he glances around at the trees nervously as though expecting the wolf to jump out and attack him, or for someone from the village to be trekking the forest and to drag him back to the lair. 

An hour of walking passes and he’d expected to feel vulnerable alone in the woods, where the path and the trees all mimic one another no matter which way you tread. Dappled sunlight filters through the cedar trees and a quiet determination takes root in his gut as he meticulously goes over his plan again and again. The dark and menacing trees, with branches hanging like sharp claws, are no more.

 It’s easy to misunderstand any uneasiness for an excitement, or apprehension for what he’ll do once he reaches Kyoto. He could do anything, be anyone, change his name, continue his studies, or get a comfortable position at the same prestigious academy as Motoya. Even with the overgrown plants in his way and the bugs that fly around his face and his uncomfortable sandals and the strange, inexplainable feeling that the woods are not as peaceful and kind as they seem, his good mood does wane. The wind whispers to him, be it warning or encouragement, he neither knows or cares.

The further he walks, the more he feels claustrophobic, the path winding and twisting impossibly smaller. Thick branches protrude outwards and he has to duck and knock them away with his hands. There are no more birds and even the constant buzz of the familiar cicadas are silent. Everything feels too still and he suddenly feels like an intruder. Every rustle of leaves or gust of wind feels like a sudden warning. Back stiffening, he grips the sack hanging off his shoulder a little tighter and advances onwards. Truthfully, he isn’t sure he’d even know his way back if he wanted to escape – the only way is forward.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a shadowy movement and hears the muffled sound of a twig snapping beneath a heavy, worn boot. Something isn’t right.

Why didn’t he bring the damn knife? Is he stupid? Has he not been told of the dangers that lurk in places where nobody can hear you scream?

After a moment of stillness, where he stands and braces himself, the bushes to his right suddenly part and he has no time to react before a figure lunges from the undergrowth. A second figure, equally as fast and silent, leaps out from his left and he hears footsteps from behind him on the path. Before he can cry out, rough, dangerous hands grab his arm and yank the sack from him before tripping him to the ground with a painful thud as Kiyoomi lands on his knees.

Panic surges through Kiyoomi and he struggles up to his feet before a heavy boot connects with his back and knocks him back down. Three men surround him, all in tattered, dirty hakama’s with their weapons rusted and blunt. 

“There’s nothing in here,” the man with his sack groans out loud before emptying the meager contents of Kiyoomi’s bag onto the dirt. “Just as poor as we are. Some food scraps, nothing worth selling.”

The one who knocked him down rolls his eyes, grabbing Kiyoomi by the collar and shaking it, without addressing him. “His clothes are nice. So he has money. This silk would feed us for a few weeks.”

“No, no, no!” Kiyoomi shouts, scrambling to pry his attackers fingers from his robes as he’s tossed backwards. If they realise he doesn’t have a man’s body– 

“He speaks,” the third one announces with a smirk, “we’ll leave your underclothes, if you stop struggling. Unless you’re hiding your weight in gold inside there.”

Kiyoomi grits his teeth, twisting against their hold and kicking out when the third man advances towards him. Heart pounding furiously, he fights and fights, one of the men grabbing his silk robe and pulling hard until it tears.

“Well done, I don’t suppose you know how to sew, do you?” One of them argues, pulling out a knife to hold against Kiyoomi’s throat. “Move a muscle and I won’t hesitate. Nobody would know if you died out here.”

“Please,” Kiyoomi tries, suddenly very afraid as the knife pricks his pale skin, a single bead of blood dripping down his neck to his collar. He wants to scream, snatch the knife from him, to beg them to leave him be, to tell them anything to make them stop but his muscles freeze up and he can’t move, only able to hyperventilate as the first layer of his robes is untied. 

If only he’d stayed with Atsumu, at the cabin, he might have had a better chance at survival…Instead of running off into the woods alone thinking he could travel the woods alone for days without being lost or attacked.

Hands tear open his silk robe and tug it down his shoulders, ready for the next layer, when a loud growl sounds through the trees. The sound vibrates Kiyoomi’s rib cage and he gasps. In the blink of an eye, the man pulling open his robes is grabbed and pulled backwards, where he trips over an exposed tree root with a blood-curdling snap of his ankle bone. 

A lone wolf with bright yellow eyes is biting down on his calf, tearing flesh and spurting blood onto the dirt. The man is screaming for his companions to help him, but they drop Kiyoomi to the ground, look at one another before cursing and running in the opposite direction, darting off into the undergrowth from where they came.

Kiyoomi doesn’t register the sound of their retreat as he lies uselessly on the ground, watching as the man writhing around and screaming on the ground starts to crawl away, standing and hopping off in one leg as the wolf growls and snarls at him in warning. Pulse hammering in his ears, Kiyoomi skids backwards away from the wolf as it stands on the bath and breathes heavily, its eyes trained on where the men had disappeared into the trees. 

And then, behind Kiyoomi is another voice— familiar and calm, and somehow, in an instant all tension washes from him and he sighs in relief.

“Huh. Didn’t expect to run into company way out here.”

As Kiyoomi turns sharply, snapping his head to look at Atsumu, the man shifts and the horse beside him rears suddenly and backs away, snorting a warning.

“Miya…” Kiyoomi breathes, struggling to stand, flinching when the wolf approaches him and holds out his giant, clawed hands to steady him. He doesn’t accept the help as he stands and sways, his legs weak and shaky. The memory of the bandit on the ground, his leg torn into by the lone wolf, almost makes him throw up his breakfast. “You followed me.”

Atsumu huffs, a sound resembling a laugh, his gaze flitting to the wolf that gives him a wide berth, watching him closely. I was followin’ him. He wouldn’t leave me be until I followed him on Tora.

With a frown Kiyoomi glances back at the wolf, watching them with it’s head slightly tilted. 

He lives up by my land, never bothered me so I let him do whatever. Seems I was right to do so, he’ll look out fer ya.

Kiyoomi looks between them for a long moment before sighing, his shoulders sagging, rubbing at his stinging eyes. When he realises his state of undress, he quickly ties and neatens his robe, straightening himself in an attempt to convince himself and Atsumu that he really is fine.

“I see…” He trails off, feeling awkward as he stands and shakes. “I suppose… Thank you to you both,” he says as quickly as he can with a low bow in Atsumu’s direction. “I know I am causing you trouble, I can continue on– it won’t take me too long to reach Kamikawa.”

Close yer eyes a second. 

Kiyoomi wants to argue, his hands curling into fights, but he hasn’t the strength to argue so he does and Atsumu shifts back into a human.

“I’m goin’ to touch ya, that okay Omi? Are ya hurt?”

He shakes his head. “No…To either. I’m just embarrassed I couldn’t defend myself– I’ve never– I don’t know how to defend myself.”

“I can see that, I’ll teach ya if ya give me time.”

“I want to leave,” Kiyoomi blurts, “my cousin– he doesn’t know what happened and I’m sure he can set me up in a room in Kyoto–”

“I’m sure he could, but we can head down there another day, yeah?” Atsumu says softly as he takes Kiyoomi by the arm, examining him for injury. His palm is warm over the thick material of his robes and Kiyoomi is unable to suppress the shiver. “I said I’d escort ya myself, didn’t I? Why’d ya run?”

“I’m sick of it…” He says, quiet and embarrassed. “It’s silly, I don’t– I’d been cooped up.   I don’t know, it gives me too much time to think. I just want to see my cousin. Sleep somewhere where I feel at ease.”

“Ya should have said ya were strugglin’ so,” he hears Atsumu say,  “I’ll take ya to Kyoto soon, like I promised…Let’s…For now I’ll take ya back. Ya get stir crazy tomorrow, I’ll take ya out huntin’ or ya can ride Tora a little.” His eyes still closed, Kiyoomi listens for the sound of Atsumu picking up his pack from the ground. “The woods don’t want ya to leave, not yet, there’s a plan fer ya I can tell.”

Kiyoomi finds Atsumu’s final words curious, speaking as though the woods had a will of their own, as though they were the gods themselves. 

Atsumu steps across the path to where Tora has hidden between two trees and Kiyoomi listens as he calms her, speaking softly before leading the mare out onto the path. “What’ll it be, darlin’? If we work together, we don’t have to have a shitty time stuck up in these woods together. I’ll even let ya keep that big knife on ya, any funny business and you can gut me with it, swear I wouldn’t fight back.”

Exhaling softly, Kiyoomi bows his head to hide the way his cheeks heat with embarrassment, his pride wounded.

“…Okay, Miya, I’ll come back with you.” Then, he pauses. “...Are you in the nude?”

“Yeah, feels like my balls are goin’ to freeze off.” Kiyoomi resists the urge to hit him for being so crude. “I’m gettin’ used to ya springin’ up on me and ruinin’ all my nice clothes, so I got a shirt and pants in the saddlebag.”

Turning and pacing away from him, Kiyoomi stands with his cheeks flushed red as he tries very hard not to think about what Atsumu may look like naked while the man dresses only a few yards away from him. They’re awful, sinful thoughts that he’ll surely pray away later, but he indulges in them for a moment, until Atsumu approaches him with a whistle.

“Let’s head back before dark,” he tells him, “Get up on Tora’s back, I’ll lead ya home.” …Home. An odd choice of words, but the adrenaline seems to sap out of Kiyoomi with the tiredness hitting him faster than an arrow, and he doesn’t complain when Atsumu, embarrassingly, helps lift him onto the mare’s back. “Atta boy. I’ll help ya control her, just sit nice and relaxed and she’ll take care of ya. She probably ain’t goin’ to enjoy the extra weight.”

Atsumu had not been lying, for the mare tosses her head and snorts her annoyance, pawing at the ground before trotting sideways and causing Kiyoomi to tense, until Atsumu’s soft voice calms her and he manages to lead her back down the path calmly.

And like that, Kiyoomi finds himself riding on the back of Atsumu’s horse with his eyes squeezed shut, hands tight on the reins with Atsumu seated on her rump pressed against his back. It’s an embarrassing position, one that makes Kiyoomi count backwards from one hundred in threes to distract himself as Atsumu talks away. The lone wolf follows several feet behind, disappearing somewhere into the brush hours later when they approach Atsumu’s land, the sun already beginning to set on the glowing orange horizon.

The entire ride back, Kiyoomi had been tense and squeezing the reins so hard his fingers stiffened and Atsumu had to take them from him. Atsumu talks for the two of them, Kiyoomi’s mouth too dry to offer up any conversation with how closely pressed together they are. It’s uncomfortable and a little scary, but he doesn’t feel the same rising panic as he may have done with someone else’s chest against his back. At one stage, Atsumu’s hands brushed the top of Kiyoomi’s clothed thigh and he jumped so hard that Tora almost broke into a canter, with only Atsumu’s soothing voice by Kiyoomi’s ear calming her. 

Once at the gate leading to the cabin, Kiyoomi keeps his eyes away to allow Atsumu time to slide off the mare’s back and to help him down to the ground.

“I’d appreciate if ya kept ‘em closed a while longer,” he says with a chuckle as he opens the gate and leads Tora to graze. “I like these pants, I’d rather keep ‘em.”

“And I’d rather not have you naked,” Kiyoomi retorts with a grimace, sore from the saddle and ready to lie down, his ego bruised from needing to be rescued and being escorted back like an unruly child. “I smell of horse, I’m going to wash.”

“Yessir,” Atsumu salutes, though Kiyoomi is already facing away and walking up to the home. “There’s wood fer the stove inside if ya wanna heat some water.”

Dismissing him, Kiyoomi marches inside, stepping across to the kitchen area where he stands and stares at the kamado for several seconds, perplexed at how such a thing works. The wood is heavy and his arms tire so he uses the time Atsumu is outside tending to the horse to have a quick cold water wash, lamenting memories of sinking into a hot water bath.

He dresses swiftly, listening for the door that opens and closes as Atsumu enters and sets to work on their supper. As usual, dinner is a quiet, near depressing affair with Kiyoomi eating first on his futon, nibbling at his food, while Atsumu whistles as he washes up and gives Kiyoomi an occasional commentary on everything he is doing.

After he has finished, Kiyoomi creeps out from behind his curtain and discards his plate but before he shuffles back inside, he hesitates. Atsumu is busying himself in the kitchen area, he can hear him. Call it the lingering adrenaline or the exhaustion from being grabbed, dragged and almost killed out in the woods. Whatever it is, he doesn’t ponder it. His jittering nerves are too raw to lie alone with his thoughts just yet. He is up for one long, sleepless night – one he decides to delay.

As though sensing Kiyoomi’s presence, Atsumu turns to look at him, as Kiyoomi stands, his eyes to the floor, and settles down at the chabudai, moving the hibachi onto the tabletop to warm his hands.

“Well, well,” he drawls, “ya keepin’ me company tonight? I’m flattered Omi.”

Scowling at the wooden table, Kiyoomi shuffles on his cushion to give Atsumu room, his jaw tightening when the man – who has little regard for personal space, plops down heavily and knocks lightly against Kiyoomi’s arm. “Don’t flatter yourself…I am simply not ready to retire yet.”

With a soft snicker, Atsumu pours himself a cup of sake and pauses, Kiyoomi listens as the liquid sloshes into the cup. “Ya want some too?” He stiffens, unsure, before nodding slowly and allowing Atsumu to fill the small cup. “Atta boy, this’ll give ya some good chest hair.”

“I expect this to taste foul,” Kiyoomi comments, flinching when he feels Atsumu lift the cup to his lips and tilt it for him to drink. His warm, large, calloused hands. Dangerous and gentle, touching him. Touching him. “...That really is not necessary.” His voice shakes and Atsumu’s fingers linger at his chin longer than they should. Kiyoomi’s stomach twists in a way that makes him want to run to the altar to pray that feeling away. “You are embarrassing.“ 

“When was the last time ya tried any?” His voice is so low, Kiyoomi wants to scream at him, he has no idea how this moment became so intimate. He wants to run away, but he also wants to stay.

“As a child, I may have stolen some one night. It burnt the back of my throat.” 

He stays.

“Poor baby,” Atsumu responds with a hint of sarcasm. Baby. “I should assume yer tastes are far more refined now. Drink up.”

“I can do it myself, you buffo—” Shushing him — a sound that makes Kiyoomi want to scold him for his rudeness, Atsumu pours the sake into Kiyoomi’s mouth before he can finish the insult. Kiyoomi gasps and swallows, shivering when Atsumu’s pinkie mistakenly grazes his lower lip. He wants to inch his body closer, it’s all he knows but for a passing second, it’s all he wants.

If Atsumu notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“There.” Kiyoomi only swallows a sip before Atsumu’s hand withdraws a safe distance and he hears the cup thud gently on the chabudai. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

“I…” Irritation, or perhaps something darker, flares, and he resists the urge to open his eyes to confront the beast. He hates what the man is doing to him. “...You are too forward, we are strangers.”

“Strangers that are married,” Atsumu says easily, clinking his cup to Kiyoomi’s before he swallows the alcohol down. “And I’d say ya didn’t mind that as much as ya make out.”

“Barely,” Kiyoomi reminds him. He elects not to comment on the rest.

“Semantics, we’re married, fer now, like ain’t this awfully domestic, the two of us sittin’ together?” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes behind his lids openly. “Hey, I can see yer eyes movin’, y’know.”

“You mistake me for someone who likes to hide my displeasure,” Kiyoomi utters with a poorly concealed grimace as he lifts up his sake and sips at it, the lingering taste almost making him gag as he swallows. “I’ve always been chastised for my rudeness.”

“I think it’s endearin’,” he hears Atsumu say, sounding far too close for comfort. Kiyoomi finishes the sake. He wants to move away, electricity zipping up his body every time he feels Atsumu vibrate the table or brush accidentally against his leg or forearm. “Would rather someone be a blunt asshole than a goody two-shoes, ‘sides, makes me feel less like a bad guy when I’m an asshole.”

“How refined your vocabulary is,” Kiyoomi says with a hint of amusement, longing to open his eyes to look at Atsumu, just once. If only to see who he is temporarily married to. 

The curiosity gnaws at him, unsatisfied for the remainder of the evening as they sit and talk idly, holding a pleasant conversation for the first time since his arrival last week. Kiyoomi is nowhere near trusting him, but there is solace in his surprisingly easy company. The beast has not hurt him, and the most they have done is bicker. Many opportunities have arisen for Atsumu to abuse him, yet he has refrained from touching a single hair on Kiyoomi’s head, despite him having the right to do so if he willed it. He could have left Kiyoomi for dead in the woods, or let him continue onward without assistance.

Though something is bothering him. They fall into a comfortable silence after almost an hour of pleasant conversation. The only sound is the crackling of the fire at the kamado, and the gentle thud of Atsumu’s cup as he lowers it to the ground. It’s a peaceful night, even with the undercurrent of his anxiety bubbling beneath the surface.

“You said something before, about you having nothing to do with the plague or the famine affecting my father’s people. What does that mean? Me being here will do them no good.”

“They might get angry, probably with me,” Atsumu responds after a moment. “Maybe with ya, or maybe they’ll all perish.”

“That is not funny,” Kiyoomi snaps. “There are innocent lives there.”

“And it seems like there are ones who aren’t,” Atsumu responds, a statement which causes Kiyoomi’s mouth to turn dry. He doesn’t respond.

“We cannot wait too long, i–if the plague continues and they come for us – if they realise you are of mortal blood, my father will not hesitate to have you executed.”

“I’m strongest after a full moon, the dawn after the next, we’ll go to Kyoto I promise, Omi. I’ll take ya wherever ya wanna go.”

“And where will you go?” Kiyoomi isn’t quite sure why he’s asking, but something tells him Atsumu will not be able to return to the cabin.

“I’ll make my own way, like I always do,” Atsumu tells him definitively, and Kiyoomi wants to ask what that means, does he not have a twin? Friends? With how talkative he is, it is curious why a man so extroverted would choose a life of solitude, weeks’ ride away from anyone he knows, so deep in the woods even the crows do not make a sound.  

Kiyoomi is contemplative again, the conversation lulling, until unwanted thoughts enter his mind unbidden and he can’t help his tongue as it spills his secrets. Perhaps it is the sake, he has lost count how many times Atsumu has refilled it.

“For the first time in my life,” he begins, feeling a warm buzz and that old familiar anxiety. “I was made to feel special, I was the one sent to save the village, they claimed this would be a great honour, that I would stop any more death and yet…It is all for nothing. I considered running away but I thought if I did what I was told, things would be better. The rice would grow again and people would stop dying. But now…It may not.”

Atsumu listens and there is no joke nor snide remark, even when Kiyoomi finishes and sits on his hands to hide them from sight. Embarrassed, he coughs and finishes his glass, wishing the tatami mat below might swallow him whole.

“Do ya wanna go back and warn them?” He asks, his voice so low, it’s barely a whisper, so close, Kiyoomi can smell the alcohol on his breath and he isn’t as disgusted as he knows he ought to be.

“You said they would not listen, that they would only bring me back in chains, if they didn’t kill me.”

“I wouldn’t let them do the latter, I’d make sure of it, but we could try if ya wanted – they’re yer people too.”

“Hardly,” Kiyoomi laughs humorlessly, leaning back on his hands with a gentle sway of his body, feeling light and giddy and not at all as melancholic as the direction their conversation is taking. “I will leave it to the gods, if it is their will. They left me to the wolves after all.”

“And aren’t ya glad they did,” Atsumu comments, lightening the mood with a short laugh that would make Kiyoomi’s cheeks pinken if they weren’t already bright and rosy from the sake.

Straightening himself, he rubs at his tired eyes, not wanting to admit that while their circumstances are unfortunate, tonight is the calmest he has felt in a long time.

“Come on, sleepy prince,” Atsumu says softly, standing and stepping behind Kiyoomi to help him to his feet.

“I can get up myself, Miya,” he tries to say, but acquiesces when he feels large hands slink under his arms to hoist him up to his feet. The hands are warm, rough and calloused from outside labour, but nice all the same. In his sake-induced mind, he mourns the loss of touch when Atsumu respectfully steps away from him.

“Get to bed before ya fall into it,” he jokes, as Kiyoomi wobbles slightly – now facing away from him, and pulls back the curtain to hobble inside. “If yer head’s not poundin’ tomorrow, I’ll take ya out to forage.”

There’s a lengthy silence after, where the only sounds are Kiyoomi as he undresses and changes into a fresh kosode, and Atsumu as he tidies away the near-empty bottle and cups. It’s only when they’re both settled to sleep with most of the candles doused, does Kiyoomi speak up.

“Tonight was…More enjoyable than I thought it might be,” he says, wary of talking too much from how stuffed his brain is with cotton. “I am glad we can be amicable.”

He hears Atsumu snort. “Yer so formal, darlin’, just say ya had fun with me. I won’t tell.”

“Good night, Miya,” Kiyoomi responds, a small smile hidden beneath the blanket as he tucks his face in for warmth. You are not so bad, after all.

Sleep comes easy, there is no tossing and turning, and the word darlin’ uttered in the low timbre of Atsumu’s voice rattles around his brain until he drifts peacefully.

Chapter Text

chapter three.

Living with Atsumu, Kiyoomi regrets to admit, is not as terrible as he predicted. They fall into an easy routine and though their bickering persists they are amicable and Atsumu coaches him on how to ride Tora, and how to hunt and fish – though Kiyoomi is unfortunately dire at both chores.

He enjoys cleaning though, and oddly enough, taking care of the vegetable garden.

“What are their names?” He asks Atsumu from where he bends down inside the chicken coop, only a week after the incident in the woods. Kiyoomi nervously holds out a handful of grain, flattening his palm to let the chickens peck at his open hand.

“Those are my girls, Emi, Aoi and Akemi,” Atsumu says from where he stands behind Kiyoomi to repair the wooden fence. “I haven’t named the rest, not if I’m goin’ to eat ‘em.”

Frowning, Kiyoomi almost whips around to look at him but stops himself, not wishing for a repeat of the other night when he mistakenly looked upon Atsumu when they were outside and he ruined Atsumu’s favourite hakama. He had tried to sew the garment back together to no avail, and Kiyoomi decides he will use whatever gold he can scrape together to purchase one for him in Kyoto. They have finer tailors, he assumes.

“Good afternoon Emi, Aoi and Akemi. I shall fatten you up more than your father has been doing. You deserve all the grain in the world.”

“Hey!” Protests Atsumu as he hammers a nail into the fence. “I feed them up nice. They give me some damn good eggs so they must be happy.”

Ignoring him, Kiyoomi continues to coo and quietly talk to the three hens, gossiping and whispering about Atsumu as he stands right by him.

“Look at ya, replacin’ me already. After all I do, cook, hunt, bring ya clothes…”

“Be quiet, Miya,” Kiyoomi admonishes with no heat behind the words, his smile hidden behind the sleeve of his colourful robe. “They have a lot to say and it's very important.” The hens continue clucking away at him, and Kiyoomi can practically feel Atsumu’s confused gaze linger at his back. For some indescribable reason, the thought makes him blush a furious pink. 

“Don’t listen to ‘em, they’ve been into my cucumber plants again, the greedy things.”

“Yes, you are very right,” Kiyoomi says to the hens, gently petting one and jumping when the chicken goes to peck lightly at his finger. “He is a big dumb wolf.”

“Omi!” Atsumu groans, standing now he has finished repairing the coop fence. “Can’t believe yer conspirin’ against me.”

“I am merely gathering intel,” Kiyoomi says levelly. “I live with someone I hardly know a thing about.”

“Yeah? Makes two of us,” grunts Atsumu as he reties his boots. “Didn’t think we were doin’ that…Gettin’ to know one another. Least you weren’t.”

“Maybe not,” Kiyoomi says quietly, tossing the last of the grains into the grass and watching as the three hens stand and peck at the earth for them. “I’m not sure how long I will be out here.” 

In the distance, the sun begins to dip beneath the horizon, the sky a brilliant golden orange – a colour that matches the eyes of the wolf. 

“You said something curious the day you rescued me,” he finally continues, the words having played in his mind ever since. “About the woods not wanting me to leave yet.”

“I did?” Atsumu questions, sounding confused. “It was probably some nonsense to stop ya from marchin’ back off on yer own again.”

“I think you’re right, though,” Kiyoomi utters quietly. Covering his eyes with one hand he rises to his feet, turning to face Atsumu and carefully shuffling out of the open gate. He stands in the garden, close to the other man, and feels the gentle breeze against his face and hair. “I feel it when we go out together, like we’re– I’m being watched. Like there is something I have to do before we depart for Kyoto.”

“Sounds like you’ve been out in this fresh air too much,” Atsumu says with a chuckle, and Kiyoomi hopes his glare can be sensed through his hand. “But sure, maybe yer meant to save the trees or slay a yokai or somethin’”

“Hm…” Kiyoomi mumbles to himself, unconvinced. “I want to check on the vegetables we pickled, and I haven’t had a hot bath in a few days.”

“Yes, my prince,” he hears Atsumu say mockingly, and Kiyoomi scoffs as he turns to head back towards the house, finally dropping his hand once Atsumu is out of eyesight. “And I shall have milord’s supper presented on a silver platter, and perhaps milord would like to be hand fed the finest grapes—”

“Please do stop,” Kiyoomi groans, swinging open the door and letting it go behind him just as Atsumu enters behind. “You grow more insufferable by the day.”

“And ya like it, or you’d have stabbed me with yer big knife,” Atsumu says with a hint of glee as he ambles over to the kitchen area to heat water on the stove.

“There is still time for that,” warns Kiyoomi, “Perhaps I will sharpen it later.”

As Kiyoomi disappears behind the curtain, he hears Atsumu snicker from across the room. “You wound me, Omi-kun! Where did all this violence come from?!”

“I watched you skin a rabbit with your hands,” Kiyoomi deadpans, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the memory of Atsumu insisting that it’s far quicker than using a knife. He had not been wrong, but the method had not been kind on the contents of Kiyoomi’s stomach.

“That’s me providin’ fer us both! Yer talkin’ of guttin’ me like it’s nothin’,” he hears Atsumu complain as he huffs and puffs while he fills the tub of water for Kiyoomi’s bath.

“Don’t worry,” Kiyoomi says cryptically, dressing down until he only wears his white kosode. “I wouldn’t get rid of you, or I’d be stuck here alone.”

“I know that’s yer weird way of bein’ comfortin’ but it’s havin’ the opposite effect.” There’s a sloshing of water as the rest is poured into the wooden tub. “Yer bath is ready, yer royal highness. I even sprinkled some herbs in.”

Kiyoomi exits the curtain with a hand over his eyes, and Atsumu wolf whistles at his state of dress. “Stop that,” he grumbles, frowning. “Will you leave?”

“This is my house,” gawks Atsumu, “ya can’t kick me out every time ya wanna wash up!”

“Well you’ll have to turn,” Kiyoomi sniffs, eyes squeezed shut as he crosses his arms childishly over his chest. 

“I’ll cover my eyes, no peeking I promise.”

“How will I know that if I can’t see you?” Kiyoomi huffs, making no move towards the tub. “I’m not bathing in my robe.”

“Fuck me, fine,” Atsumu says, sticking his tongue out at Kiyoomi.

Without thinking, Kiyoomi extends his hand and slaps Atsumu on the arm and flinches back as though burned. They both stand for a moment in silence and Kiyoomi feels his heart race, less at the fact he touched Atsumu and more the fact he doesn’t feel the urge to scrub the skin on the back of his hand raw.

They don’t comment on it.

“At least let me get outta these clothes, ya can’t keep makin’ me rip ‘em.”

“Fine,” Kiyoomi acquiesces, listening for the rustle of clothes as Atsumu undresses in front of him. The skin on the back of his neck tingles uncomfortably. “Please cover yourself with a cushion.”

“Ya know,” a very naked Atsumu says as he brushes past Kiyoomi. “Ya weren’t sayin’ that the other day. I saw ya lookin’, dear husband.” 

Kiyoomi stiffens. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Miya. I would never be so crude.”

“Sure thing,” Atsumu says, no doubt with a grin curling ear to ear. “Ya tell yerself that.”

“...Can I open my eyes now? I don’t want the water to turn tepid,” he responds, electing to ignore Atsumu’s childish comments.

“Go right ahead, I’m standin’ a respectable distance away where ya can keep an eye on my perverted ass.”

“I dislike that even you refer to yourself that way,” Kiyoomi says with narrowed eyes, finally blinking his eyes open and turning around to look at the wolf. As promised, he has his back to Kiyoomi. Sitting on the floor, looking comically large and out of place in the hut, it almost makes Kiyoomi laugh at how ridiculous their strange situation is. He coughs to cover it, and slowly undresses out of his robe. “If you turn around, I will gut you.”

I don’t doubt it, comes the rumbling voice in his mind. Yer far stronger than ya look.

Folding the robe neatly, Kiyoomi discards it into a wicker basket and lifts a mole-dotted leg into the hot water, sighing happily once he sinks the rest of his body inside.

They sit like that for a while, bickering and tossing verbal jabs back and forth at one another until the water turns cool and Kiyoomi’s hands and feet prune.

“I’m getting out now, keep facing that way,” he warns, “I’ll turn away once I am robed.” 

Ya think I’m some kind of pervert?! 

“Those were your words, Miya.”

Don’t know what yer talkin’ about, he hears Atsumu’s voice in his mind as he quickly dries himself with a square cloth and proceeds to dress in a clean robe. I’m a gentleman!

He is, but Kiyoomi will die before admitting anything so mortifying. “That is yet to be seen.”

“I’ll prove it to ya, don’t ya worry that pretty head of yer’s,” Atsumu finally says when Kiyoomi has turned his back. He pouts at the words, furrowing his brow. Kiyoomi isn’t quite sure how to take this new development, of Atsumu calling him pretty or cute. 

He is further put off by the way he no longer feels nervous around him, his heart no longer pounding and his hands no longer trembling when they’re in close contact. The nights are no longer spent with his fingers brushing the handle of the knife, and undressing near Atsumu doesn’t panic him as it otherwise might. Touch somewhat remains an issue and he recoils when he isn’t expecting it.

That night, Kiyoomi falls asleep easily. It’s amazing how better rested he is when he isn’t worried for his life, not feeling the need to tie a rope or wedge the shoji doors in his bedchamber. Since Atsumu rescued him, he finds the soft breathing (and light snoring…though Kiyoomi finds he isn’t as infuriated by that as he expected) a comfort, knowing that he is protected each night.

His brain doesn’t always get the memo. In his dreams, he is back in his village preparing for one of the summer festivals. In real life, Kiyoomi woke before sunrise, sneaking into the furo by the main house to sit in the steam before anyone else awoke. Bathing was always his time, though his stomach churned at the thought of doing so with anyone else present.

Tonight, he sits surrounded by the steam and at his back is a great demon, its hands replaced by dozens of spindly-legged spiders that crawl up his bare legs, between his thighs and around his neck and chest. Mouth closed, he resists the urge to make a sound, and he freezes when the demon shifts and moves beneath him.

When he wakes, it’s with a hoarse shout, only he hears a nearby voice. Lifting his head, he moves automatically, blinking to focus his teary vision. There the wolf sits, comically large inside his sleeping partition. He ought to be afraid, but he can feel the spiders in his kosode, crawling around and nesting in his skin to lay their eggs and spread out to taint the rest of his body.

Omi? Kiyoomi? I’m sorry fer comin’ in but yer cryin’, darlin’ it was just a nightmare.

Too exhausted to think, he crawls directly onto the lap of the wolf, his arms wrapped around its large waist. He slumps onto its body, his face burying into the warm furry chest. Kiyoomi has never been a crier, nor has he ever willingly collapsed onto someone for comfort, so as he hyperventilates, he whimpers in embarrassment when he feels two large arms wrap tightly around his body.

Longing to shut his eyes, Kiyoomi finds himself keeping them open, his cheek rubbing against the wolf’s fur. He hates how warm it feels, how surprisingly nice it feels to be caged around someone who means him no harm. How he knows this isn’t some ploy to convince Kiyoomi to lower his guard. The wolf terrifies him, but knowing it is only Atsumu inside fills him with unexplainable relief. 

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, stroking his hands through the wolf’s fur to soothe himself. “I’m ashamed. I’m not normally like this.”

The wolf releases a soft growl, his chest rumbling and vibrating against Kiyoomi’s cheek. He feels a soft, clawed hand stroke down the length of his spine, up and down in soothing motions until Kiyoomi relaxes minutely. It smooths over the folds of his kosode, slow and rhythmic. The other arm, thick and muscular, wraps firmly around him. Holding him.

What have ya got to be ashamed fer? Everybody gets bad dreams sometimes.

The wolf’s voice is rough and scratchy with sleep, though Kiyoomi is so accustomed to Atsumu’s constant stream of consciousness he finds himself craving the fill of silence. He longs to ask him to talk more, to calm and lull him to a deep dreamless sleep. Though the thought of asking is mortifying, so he says nothing.

Shuddering, Kiyoomi focuses on the wolf’s heartbeat. The fast beating helps ground him, and he inhales sharply. Pine smoke and the distant notes of Atsumu’s clove incense fill his lungs invitingly.

“They were all over me, everywhere,” he whispers, feeling childish. “I froze up, I could have stopped them, but I didn’t. That’s why I’m ashamed.” That’s why they sent me here, instead of to a real husband, he wants to add but daren’t. His fingers curl and clench in the wolf’s fur, tugging on it.

The wolf’s paw stills against his back. Then, with careful pressure,  the snout presses into the side of Kiyoomi’s head and Kiyoomi releases a shaky exhale. It reminds him of the wolf’s strength, yet he is not afraid as he should be.

It’s just a dream, but it’s over. Ain’t nothin’ in here that could hurt ya, especially when they’d have to wrestle with a nine foot wolf first. 

Wherever ya are now, whether it’s here with me or down in Kyoto with yer cousin, yer safe. I know yer fate ain’t what ya wanted it to be, me neither, but yer not in the village anymore.

“It haunts me like a shadow,” frets Kiyoomi, feeling the panic rise in his throat when he thinks of the dream again. “It’s a memory, manifested into something only mildly more tolerable. You wouldn’t understand.”

No, maybe not. But memories are only the past, aren’t they? 

“Not when they’re here in the present, all the time…” Kiyoomi sighs heavily, his shoulders tense as a shudder wracks him. “I hate that I feel safer here than back there.”

What, with an awful, horrible, mean monster like me?

“Precisely.” Kiyoomi somehow finds it within himself to joke. “Especially with an awful, horrible, mean monster such as yourself.”

So cruel, Omi, after everythin’ I do!

“I am only repeating your words,” Kiyoomi mutters with no real bite, his slight smile thankfully hidden in the wolf’s fur.

I’m not so bad, am I?

Kiyoomi doesn’t respond for a long moment, his breaths beginning to steady. The wolf’s arm tightens around his lithe body protectively. “No. You’re not.”

I’ll hold ya to that, Atsumu’s voice echoes in his mind, followed by a laugh.

“I should probably try and sleep, but I don’t want to. I don’t think I could.”

Then don’t, he hears Atsumu’s voice in his mind. 

“That’s ridiculous,” he blurts, his brow furrowed even where it is buried into the wolf’s broad chest.

Sure it ain’t, I don’t like to sleep much these days, so stay up with me.

“When you do sleep, you snore rather loudly.”

Yeah, who’s sayin’ you don’t either?

Kiyoomi’s gasp makes the wolf chuckle, a low sound in Kiyoomi’s head, its chest vibrating pleasantly. “I do not snore, thank you.”

Guess you’ll never know, will ya, little prince?

Huffing frustratedly, Kiyoomi sits upright so he can stare into the wolf’s dark golden eyes curiously. The silence between them stretches, taut, as Kiyoomi examines the sharp features, and the oddly soft, silky dark fur. The wolf cocks its head to one side, as though waiting for Kiyoomi to do something. 

Ya keep starin’ at me like that, I’ll get all flustered, jokes Atsumu. 

“I just haven’t looked at you close-up, before,” Kiyoomi says softly.

Should see me when I’m human, I think I’m way more handsome.

“Hm, if you say so.” Kiyoomi blinks himself out of it, feeling a little strange and warm. He buries himself back into the wolf’s chest to hide his flushed cheeks, both legs tangling around the warm body of the wolf.

Yer kinda clingy fer someone who doesn’t like to be touched, huh Omi?

“Don’t talk about it,” complains Kiyoomi with a voice muffled by fur. “You’re just warmer than me…Don’t expect a repeat after tonight.”

Alright, Omi. If ya say so.

They stay like that, still, the room silent and calm with only the sound of the gentle wind against the walls of the cabin and the wolf’s heart beneath Kiyoomi’s cheek. Somehow, he feels safer with each passing minute. The nightmare lingers, but its grip on him loosens its tether, fading to the back of his mind.

He shifts slightly, propping his chin up to look up at Atsumu. “You talk in your sleep sometimes too.”

The wolf releases a soft, almost sheepish growl. I do?

“You talk about people, presumably from your old life.”

Ears twitching, Kiyoomi feels the wolf tense a little under him. There’s a tense pause, as though he is trying to figure out how much to divulge.

Guess yer not the only one who gets bad dreams. Don’t wake me if I do, I might lash out and hurt ya.

“I feel like I could handle you, all I have to do is keep my eyes closed.” Snorting, the wolf relaxes, but doesn’t respond. “...You don’t have to tell me. You speak of your brother, though.”

Kiyoomi hesitates, then reaches out and runs his fingers through the fur where Atsumu’s heart should be. “If it matters,” he says, embarrassed, “you’re more human like this than most people I’ve met.”

Yer so fluffy when yer tired, y’know that? Thought you’d be a big ol’ grump.

“Don’t push your luck, Miya.”

He hears Atsumu snicker inside his mind and the sound is so pleasant it almost sends him back to sleep.

They fall silent again as the sky outside turns a soft blue. Only the steady rise and fall of their breaths can be heard, paired with the quiet creak of furniture. 

Eventually, he hears Atsumu’s voice again. 

…Do ya want me to stay with ya until sunrise?

Kiyoomi doesn’t answer immediately. For a moment he considers crawling back to his sleeping partition, but the tiredness weighs on him and he changes his mind.

“Yes. Please. I won’t sleep now.”

Shifting down, the wolf lies fully across the futon with Kiyoomi clinging to his side, a clawed hand resting gently on his waist, the touch featherlight. Kiyoomi doesn’t even mind Atsumu’s transformation when he rests his eyes and feels the strong chest and abs beneath him. 

“Yer alright,” Atsumu whispers quietly. “Ain’t nothin’ goin’ to get ya in here.”

Afterwards, Atsumu seems to have the sense not to bring that night up. Instead, when Kiyoomi is sitting writing a letter to Motoya at the chabudai, he approaches from behind, placing a cloth blindfold beside his cushion.

Kiyoomi’s gaze flickers to the left. Soft, light cotton with long ties to wrap around his head.

“Ya don’t have to wear it, just thought it might be easier when we’re in here,” comes the sheepish voice of Atsumu from behind him. “Means ya won’t have to risk seein’ me naked all the time.”

Flushing, Kiyoomi thinks to the night on the futon, when he lay against a very nude Atsumu. The memory has burned itself into his mind, the warmth of Atsumu’s skin, along with the firmness of his arms and chest. 

“It is no different than having to keep my eyes closed,” he says with a shrug. “Very well.”

“Let me put it on ya,” Atsumu responds almost excitedly. “Keep yer eyes closed.”

“Wait, I can do it myself–” he weakly complains, though closes his eyes anyway, unable to suppress his gasp when Atsumu’s calloused fingers accidentally graze against his forehead.

“Ya feelin’ okay, Omi-kun?”

“I’m fine,” snaps Kiyoomi. “Just thinking about where your hands may have been,” he deflects, shivering when the cloth is placed over his eyes and tightened, Atsumu’s fingers working deftly to tie a double knot at the back of his head.

“How’s it fit?”

Atsumu is so close, Kiyoomi can smell the cinnamon on his skin and clothes and he almost chokes. He isn’t quite sure why he reacts that way, just that suddenly, Atsumu smells very nice and Kiyoomi craves his attention.

“Earth to Omi-kun, ya got anythin’ in there?” Atsumu says in an annoying tone, knocking his fist gently against Kiyoomi’s head.

“Stop that,” mutters Kiyoomi, finally finding his voice, as he ducks his head out of Atsumu’s way. “It’s fine. Don’t make me regret agreeing to this.”

He hears Atsumu laugh, the sound moving in front of him as he takes a seat on one of the other cushions. “Naw, but ya look great in it.”

Kiyoomi grumbles a response, and leaves the blindfold on until they finish eating and Atsumu leaves to finish his chores. It’s there that he studies it in his hands, his thoughts on Atsumu.

One late afternoon a few days later, after hours outside on Atsumu’s land tending to the vegetable plants and herbs, Kiyoomi stands upright with a huff. He has collected garlic leaves, daikon and onion in a basket and admires his handiwork after replanting some seeds in the dirt. Atsumu had, to his embarrassment, demonstrated how to do the most basic of chores including gardening and washing clothes. In spite of Kiyoomi’s slow speed and his particular way of doing things, the man had not lost his temper and kept an air of patience that surprised Kiyoomi.

By the time Atsumu returns that evening, he is bone tired from hunting preps the deer he killed for a venison curry out by the barn. Kiyoomi decides to be a good housemate? spouse? something else? and brew him a fresh tea, crushing up the spices and adding some sugar. When Atsumu enters, he makes a beeline for the tub and fills it with hot water from the kamado. 

“Thank ya,” he says warmly, his voice rough with tiredness. Kiyoomi slipped the blindfold onto his head when Atsumu entered, and when Atsumu appears at his side he almost jumps out of his skin. “I needed this.”

Nodding politely, Kiyoomi feels his mouth run dry, his throat closing, when Atsumu’s hand curls around the cup and his pinkie grazes Kiyoomi’s hand. What on earth is the matter with him? 

Atsumu, seemingly unaffected or not noticing the electric shock that passes swiftly between them, breezes past him with a stretch and begins telling Kiyoomi all about his afternoon as he fills the tub and undresses. Once again, Kiyoomi doesn’t need to be thinking about Atsumu in the bath water — in fact, the thought is so persistent that he considers sticking his hand in the leftover kamado water to scald himself as a distraction.

He has always been the dramatic one.

After their bellies are filled with venison and vegetables, the mood is lighter. The prospect of food and a glass of sake appears to make Atsumu perk and they sit side by side at the chabudai with the hibachi warming their hands as they drink. Atsumu tells Kiyoomi on how some village children recently approached his land to see the beast for themselves. He had promptly shown himself to them and turned, scaring the trio away and laughing as they yelled the whole way home. Kiyoomi sits, red-cheeked from both their proximity and the alcohol, and acts as though he is not amused by the tale and Atsumu’s dramatic gestures and hand movements.

While Atsumu’s volume increases by several decibels, Kiyoomi loses some of his middle-class decorum and laughs more than he may have if he weren’t so tipsy.

“Yer a bigger drunk than I am,” Atsumu teases, leaning over to refill Kiyoomi’s cup. As he does so, their arms brush and Kiyoomi feels the soft blond hairs tickle his skin and he flinches. “Yer like a little deer; so skittish.”

“I am not drunk,” Kiyoomi replies primly, straightening his back when he notices himself begin to sway. What he doesn’t notice is the way he consistently leans into Atsumu’s personal space without a care in the world. “I do not get drunk. And I am not a deer, if I was you would have hunted me.” The thought momentarily depresses Kiyoomi and he pouts, as though such a thing could be possible. 

“I wouldn’t hunt ya; I would keep ya as a little cute pet though.”

Kiyoomi frowns at the odd comment. “I’m not a pet either, and I am hardly cute.” 

Atsumu snorts, and Kiyoomi hears him lift his cup to drain it, dropping it on the table with a gentle thud. “We will have to agree to disagre, ‘cause ya got that little cute pout of yers on show ever since I called ya a deer. Little doe.”

At the ridiculousness of their conversation, Kiyoomi can’t help but chuckle. What strange circumstances he has found himself in. Though they are not circumstances he entirely regrets. “You are strange…” 

A brief silence settles between them as Kiyoomi shifts uncomfortably, overcome with an unexpected desire to actually see Atsumu, to know the man that is no beast, and to unmask the one he is temporarily betrothed to.

In true Kiyoomi fashion, he cannot hold his tongue once the thought latches.

“Can I touch you?”

There’s a horrific noise as Atsumu sputters, spitting some of his drink across the table. He freezes, tensing beside Kiyoomi. “Y’know, I am handsome. It’s only natural you’d want to see fer yerself which man had all the girls swoonin’ down in Tettsu once upon a time.”

Kiyoomi grimaces, a swirl of jealousy forming in his gut at the thought of Atsumu entertaining droves of pretty, feminine girls in their pretty colourful robes. (Later, he will blame such thoughts on the over-indulgence of sake)

“Don’t be weird about it,” he chastises. “I am merely curious, how else can I trust a man I have never seen?”

“You’ve seen me,” Atsumu jokes lightly.

“Only the wolf,” Kiyoomi says, “he is not you.”

Atsumu doesn’t respond immediately. “...Alright, sure. I’m goin’ to take yer hand and you can feel me up to yer heart's content.”

Once again, Kiyoomi finds himself grimacing. “Above the collar, do not be crass with me.”

Snickering, Atsumu delicately takes Kiyoomi’s pale fingers and lifts them up. “The face only, I swear. I’m a man of honour.”

The silence is thick and oddly tender, Atsumu shifting so close their thighs touch as he guides Kiyoomi’s hand to his face. When his fingers grae Atsumu’s jaw, he gasps. 

“I haven’t shaved in a few days, reckon it gives me a kinda rugged mountain man sexiness.”

“...I…do not mind it,” Kiyoomi admits with a bite to his lip, before his hands trace Atsumu’s jaw up to his ear, before tentatively making it’s way to his chiseled cheek.

“Yer quiverin’ like a leaf, ya know I don’t bite.”

Frowning, Kiyoomi continues his mission, tracing Atsumu’s features. His cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, the scar on his brow—

“Ow, yer goin’ to poke my damn eyes out!”

Kiyoomi jumps, but does not retract his hand. “Sorry…” he grumbles. “Are your eyes the same as the beast?”

“I dunno, not looked at ‘em while I’ve been in that form.”

“They’re…A golden brown, gold in the light.”

“Then yeah, that’s kinda like mine now.”

“Oh…” He doesn’t say so, but he thinks that he has seen Atsumu after all. 

Elbowing him good-naturedly, Atsumu leans across to whisper near his ear. “Well? What’s the verdict, am I handsome or what?”

“That’s an objective statement,” Kiyoomi says firmly, though he does not deny it. “You are very warm, I’m surprised you aren’t burning a fever.”

“Just the sake, I run hot. If I was runnin’ a fever though, I know who’d nurse me back to health.”

“Pff,” Kiyoomi giggles, his fingertips grazing Atsumu’s lips before he withdraws his hand to lightly smack him on the chest. “I would be several hundred feet away, ensuring that you do not infect me with your illness.”

“Nah, yer naturally carin’,” Atsumu says, his voice filled with humour as though he cannot stop himself from smiling. “I can tell.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Kiyoomi denies, rising to his feet as Atsumu collects the cups and near-empty bottle to dispose of. “I should…” He sways, steadied only by Atsumu’s hand on his shoulder. “Probably go to bed.”

“Yeah, ya should get some sleep,” Atsumu says, softly, clearing his throat. “Yer gettin’ mushy, anymore sake and I’ll be carryin’ ya.”

The thought isn’t terrible, Kiyoomi thinks unbidden.

“I am fine,” Kiyoomi says again, indignant, but he allows himself to lean against him once more. This time, Atsumu does not move away. When he drifts to sleep that night, it’s deep and dreamless and he finds himself mourning the lack of warm fur surrounding him.

And once again, he wakes alone though with a head that pounds relentlessly against his skull. Beside his futon is a mug of tea for his nausea that is still hot, the steam flowing from the surface as though just brewed. The thought of Atsumu being in here, in Kiyoomi’s meagre private space, no longer fills him with inexplicable dread.

Instead it’s with something almost as mortifying — a lasting want that he can’t shake. Kiyoomi is no stranger to longing, just not this foreign kind that leaves him confused and shaky. 

The cabin is silent; with none of Atsumu’s usual nonsensical chatter or quiet humming. Sitting up slowly, Kiyoomi shudders from the chill, his loosely-tied kosode slipping off his shoulder. Distantly he hopes Atsumu did not witness him sleeping in such a state. The air is cool on his bare skin and he stares at the tea before lifting it to his lips to drink from. 

Beside him, lies the neatly folded blindfold. Curious, because Kiyoomi vaguely remembers being too drunk to fold it and had simply discarded it somewhere he does not remember and it makes him wonder if Atsumu laid it out for him. Before he has the chance to berate himself, Kiyoomi picks up the cloth and brings it to his nose, hoping to smell some of Atsumu’s familiar cinnamon. It’s faint, but with a deep inhale, he can sense it – earthy and herbal, much like how the wolf smells. A resounding comfort. 

He thinks about last night –  the way Atsumu’s breath caught when Kiyoomi gentle touched his face. How his large hand, calloused from so much manual labour, cradled Kiyoomi’s like he were holding a butterfly wing.

Is Atsumu as touch-starved as he is? He is extroverted unlike Kiyoomi, and while he seems accustomed to life alone it is difficult to get him to stop talking most times.

Kiyoomi sets the blindfold aside before he can do anything regrettable and he presses his hands to his eyes. Being here with Atsumu unsettles him. He spent days convincing himself that this was a death sentence – but now he knows that this is not the case at all.

For all his brutality, Atsumu is kind and has done nothing against his will.. Has not once tried to keep him against his will. It is more kindness than Kiyoomi has known in a long time – not since his sister married and left for Kyoto.

He isn’t ready to admit it out loud but something inside him yearns, missing the rough sound of Atsumu’s voice in the morning and his dry humour. How miserable he will be one day, when he departs the cabin for Kyoto. Motoya is his dearest cousin but he is married with a family of his own, he would certainly board Kiyoomi but Kiyoomi suspects he would be an outsider in that home. With Atsumu, though life is harsh and awkward in the cabin, Kiyoomi can’t help but think he fits like the missing puzzle piece.

For the way his hands linger in passing, as though they’re always one breath away from holding him again.

These steadily blossoming feelings irk him, both tender and sharp. A few months ago he may have run from such an unnatural desire, and he still wants to partially.

But he isn’t sure he could bear to do such a thing now he is finally free from the village. Oh, he is falling fast.

Chapter Text

chapter four.

The woods are damp from the previous day’s rainfall and the moss beneath Kiyoomi’s feet is spongy, his boots sinking as he walks. Water from the overhanging leaves drips down on him, and the sparse sunlight filters in through the branches. He carries a large woven basket on his back and narrowly avoids tripping over exposed tree roots and low bush branches at his feet.

Ahead, Atsumu saunters casually through the overgrowth in his wolf form. It’s easier, they realised, for him to transform, after Kiyoomi tripped and almost fell the last time he went out without the blindfold – which had loosened and slipped off his head. It only means that the wolf must stay in his line of sight, which is a blessing and a curse all at once. In the several days following Kiyoomi’s unexpected revelation, his feelings had not waned. He had prayed, that second day, that it had been a passing fancy. So touch-starved and lonely, perhaps he is clinging to the one offering kindness and safety. He only hopes these new feelings will pass by the time they reach Kyoto, where Atsumu will become a dear friend he writes to once a full moon.

Kiyoomi pauses briefly by a berry bush, collecting a small handful of the small dark fruits, while the wolf ventures forward, scenting the air in search of prey. The work is mindless and fairly easy, allowing Kiyoomi to switch his brain off, focusing hard on not straying too deep into thoughts of Atsumu. Kiyoomi’s heart beats for him, though he isn’t sure he should even daydream of handing it over to Atsumu.

He pushes the confusing thoughts down as they forage, though a nagging thought deigns to gnaw at him instead.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says abruptly, halting the wolf in his steps, head cocked questioningly. “How much longer?”

The wolf takes a step towards him. Yer not tired already are ya, Omi-kun? We’ve barely been out fer an hour.

Kiyoomi sets his basket down on the forest floor, maintaining an even voice. “I’ve just been thinking about Kyoto. I suppose…There isn’t much of a rush, we agreed to bide our time until it was safe. But something is bothering me.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as the wind sifts gently through the tall trees.

Ears twitching gently, Atsumu moves in what appears to be a shrug. I didn’t think ya minded, it ain’t so bad here, is it?

“No, but…” Kiyoomi sighs, “you’re running from something, and I think that’s the real reason you’re stalling.The village has not bothered either of us, I thought about checking for myself, to see if we were wrong and they’re fine and if so, we could leav—”

Exactly, let’s not give them reason to bother us.

The wolf growls at him, causing Kiyoomi to take a startled step backwards and click his jaw shut so fast it hurts.

I said it ain’t safe yet, thought we were trustin’ each other now? Workin’ together?

“You’re deflecting,” Kiyoomi argues, his voice shaking slightly. He knows Atsumu wouldn’t hurt him, logically, he’s safe, but his anxiety threatens to boil over anyway. His past has a strange way of doing that to him. “Something has been bothering you for days, and I didn’t think it was anything I had done…So I thought…”

When the wolf steps closer, Kiyoomi takes another step back and almost tangles with the berry bush. It’s nothin’, ‘m fine, focus on pickin’ yer damn berries. Turning, the wolf continues down the path, though Kiyoomi is not yet done with him.

“I thought if we’re a team, we should talk to one another.”

When didja start carin’ so hard?

“Maybe I’ll stop,” Kiyoomi retorts, feeling able to breathe with the wolf facing away from him. “It won’t matter to me in a few months' time anyway.” He watches the wolf visibly bristle, like he wants to snap and snarl at Kiyoomi – until a rustling of leaves and nearby footsteps cuts through their argument and they both pause.

Brambles snap and bushes part ways. Golden eyes widen, and the wolf instinctively steps backward towards Kiyoomi, his frustration dwindling in an instant.

Stay quiet. Ya hear that?

Voices.

The wolf grabs Kiyoomi’s arm, dragging him off the path into a shallow ravine by the berry bush. Kiyoomi stumbles as he tries not to trip over the tree roots and tangled vines. He crouches behind a large boulder, while the wolf lowers itself to the ground in front of him, hackles raised, poised for attack if necessary.

Above them a man’s voice echoes; travelling down into the ravine. “Are you sure you heard something?” The wolf bares its sharp white fangs.

Another man replies, voice deeper and older. “Plain as day. Saw it too, like a giant dark shadow covering the sun when it stands. Couldn’t miss something like that.”

“...Should we lock away the sheep? Is it dangerous out here?”

“Who knows what spells the Sakusa witch will conjure up, no doubt she’s made a pact with the devil, and laid with it in its lair already. Be vigilant.” At his name, Kiyoomi’s eyes widen a fraction. The wolf turns its large head and blinks at him, knowing. “First Kanako, now this one.”

“Is it true what they say about the Sakusa’s?”

The elder shushes the younger farmer, and their voices lower. Kiyoomi has to strain to listen to what they say next, though he suspects it’s nothing he wishes to hear. “Do not speak ill of Sakusa-sama, the trees listen and pass messages.” Whatever is said next escapes Kiyoomi’s hearing range, though the wolf’s ears twitch, before pinning against his head. Abruptly standing, Kiyoomi is vaguely aware of the farmers as they continue down the path as he marches in the opposite direction to climb out of the ravine.

“I told you, that is what they think of me,” he snarls back at the wolf, who looks bewildered from where it stands. His voice is filled with venom and hatred, no pity for the village plagued with disease and famine. “Their souls rotted from the inside out a long time ago. I don’t want to be here anymore, I am going to the cabin…I don’t…Want to be here.”

I’m comin’, let me help ya. There could be other shepherds nearby.

With an annoyed hmph, Kiyoomi grips a root jutting out from the ravine with a gloved hand and attempts to haul himself out with it, only when he does so, it snaps and cuts loose from the muddy bank and Kiyoomi falls unceremoniously to the ground. When his foot hits the floor his ankle twists grotesquely to one side and he crashes down with a yelp.

Lurching forward, the wolf jumps to grab him off the ground, but Kiyoomi hisses out in pain when he tries to move him. “Shit,” he swears. “I think I can…” Pressing weight on it, pain immediately shoots up the length of his leg and he has to bite his lip not to cry out, his arms gripping the wolf’s powerful forearms for support.

I’ll carry ya, let me lift ya.

“Absolutely not,” sniffs Kiyoomi, his heart thundering suddenly in his chest. His gut swirls pleasantly, mind flashing back to when he was held by a naked Atsumu, and how his chest rippled beneath his palms. “Give me a moment, I can walk, it just needs rest.”

Don’t be difficult, I can wrap it when we’re back at the house. Ya might have sprained it and who knows if we’ll have company again soon.

Before Kiyoomi has the chance to protest further, the wolf is hauling him into his arms bridal-style. “Miya! Put me down!” Kiyoomi yelps, panicking and trying to wiggle free.

Easy, will ya relax? It’ll be faster this way, or you’ll be dawdlin’ all night and we’ll never make it home.

Kiyoomi acquiesces, but only because he knows Atsumu is unfortunately right. “Fine,” he huffs petulantly. It’ll be something else they won’t talk about later, he surmises. “Drop me and I will kill you.”

Piece of cake, darlin’, yer light as a feather. Have some faith in me!

Encased in the wolf’s large, protective arms again, he can’t help but flush and feel warm all over and Kiyoomi snakes a hand inside the sleeve of his robe to pinch himself harshly. How pathetic of him, how starved for attention must he be?

Not even the nonsense Atsumu spews on the walk back can stop Kiyoomi from noticing the way the wolf’s heart beats impossibly fast with Kiyoomi bundled back up against him.

By the time they make it back to the cabin Kiyoomi is sleepy, the sky above growing darker as sunset nears. There’s a cool chill in the air, one that he combats by burrowing safely in the wolf’s fur while his swollen ankle sticks out awkwardly. Heavy clouds fill the sky and Kiyoomi feels a few drops of water land on his cheek as they cross into Atsumu’s land, the cabin just ahead. At their feet are wolf tracks, far too small to be Atsumu’s and Kiyoomi spies them when he shifts in his arms. 

“That other wolf is still here,” he says with a slight frown.

Keeps the rats away, I suppose.

“And the farmers.”

Atsumu chuckles in his mind. Hopefully.

Once they’re inside, Kiyoomi is deposited on the floor and with a face as red as a tomato, awkwardly undresses out of his ruined robes while he leans against the wolf’s large frame, until he is only in the thin kosode. The blindfold is hastily tugged over his face (after much argument) and a thankfully now clothed Atsumu drops him on the chabudai cushions with his ankle elevated on a small stool. Only then does he work to light the kamado while Kiyoomi sits helplessly for him to return.

“I’m goin’ to wrap it fer ya.” He hears Atsumu say from somewhere behind as his footsteps approach. “Don’t bite my head off will ya?”

“Luckily for you, I can’t really stand,” deadpans Kiyoomi, flinching when Atsumu takes a seat on the stool and carefully lifts his injured foot onto his lap.

“I don’t think it’s serious,” Atsumu tells him as he inspects the ankle, his rough hands cradling Kiyoomi’s gentle arch. 

Feeling faint, Kiyoomi is helpless to do anything as Atsumu gently massages the foot. Part of him wants to run, ashamed at the way his heart beats so fast at such featherlight, innocent touches. The darker, less innocent part of him wins in the end, and he tries to relax and enjoy the feel of Atsumu’s thumbs pressing into the balls of his foot. If he basks in the attention, though acts nonchalant, nobody will know but him – there is no need for him to feel shame, even as his cheeks heat and he crosses his legs uncomfortably.

“Does it still hurt?” Atsumu asks, pulling Kiyoomi from his wandering thoughts. His fingers linger on the foot for far longer than what might be appropriate, but neither of them notice.

“Not terribly,” Kiyoomi quietly responds, inhaling sharply when Atsumu rotates his foot once. “Ow! When you do that…Maybe.”

“Keep weight off it fer a few days,” Atsumu tells him, wrapping the ankle in some clean cotton cloth. “I haven’t got much fer the swellin’, but it’ll go down on its own okay.” Barely able to listen from the feel of Atsumu’s fingers as they delicately brush his skin while he finishes the wrapping, Kiyoomi only nods. “I suppose it means yer off the hook fer a few days.”

“I’m sure I can entertain myself,” Kiyoomi replies, thinking of the broken bow in the pantry and how Atsumu had neglected fixing it so far. 

He hasn’t the faintest idea how to mend anything, but it seems like it could be a peace offering of sorts. An indication of trust – for why else would he mend a weapon that could be used to harm him if he didn't trust Atsumu now?

Silence settles between them, Atsumu’s hands still gently holding Kiyoomi’s ankle until he seems to remember himself and he props it on the stool and stands quickly. The ghost of his touch burns, and Kiyoomi coughs awkwardly, sitting in silence. It's like that for a while until his mind starts to wander against its will - thinking back to their argument from earlier that day. Atsumu is somewhere behind, preparing the soup, but when Kiyoomi clears his throat and speaks, Atsumu halts.

“...What are you running from in Kyoto?”

There’s a heavy sigh from the man's lips. It’s the only sound for several seconds until Atsumu turns and takes a seat on one of the chabudai cushions.

“You’re hiding again–” Kiyoomi continues, “if there’s something you don’t want to face, you should tell me. I have to know if we are going to be travelling together.” He cannot see Atsumu, yet he senses the moment his shoulders sag.

“I ain’t good at talkin’, not about this sort of thing,” begins Atsumu, apprehension evident in his tone. 

Kiyoomi nods in understanding. “That makes two of us.”

“Guess we make a decent pair, then, Omi-kun.”

There’s a lengthy pause between them as Kiyoomi waits for an answer. The fire crackles under the kamado and outside, the gentle wind brushes past the windows.

“When I was cursed, it was pretty shitty gettin’ used to it. I’ve only been like this a few years, and I hated bein’ cooped up inside all the time. Wrecked mine and ‘Samu’s old house a bunch, but him and Rin were pretty decent about it. I had this pretty girl I was courtin’, Hana. She was some shopkeeper's daughter, they weren’t all that rich. I avoided her after the curse fer obvious reasons.”

The words hang heavy in the air, thick like smoke.

“She did eventually find out, she was persistent as hell and didn’t listen when I tried scarin’ her off.” There’s another pause, and Kiyoomi has to stop himself from reaching out to blindly touch him somehow. “She shoulda been, we had a fight and I turned, I don’t even know what the fuck happened. One minute she was fine, the next minute she was fightin’ me – the wolf, and I shoved her off. I hurt her and she fled.

Outside, the wind stills. Kiyoomi can only hear Atsumu’s heavy breathing from beside him.

“We weren’t ever goin’ to marry – we were too different. But if she saw that sooner and didn’t bother tryin’ to…I don’t know what she was tryin’ to do. But I avoided her fer weeks after that and I may have withdrew from anyone who wasn’t ‘Samu – I was just lickin’ my wounds–” there’s a breathy chuckle that sounds nervous. “I thought we’d just broken up, but then I hear she passed from an infected wound on her neck, which she lied about. I knew it was from me. So I came here, said goodbye ‘cause I knew ‘Samu would ride out and drag my ass back for a whoopin’ if I didn’t, but he wasn’t happy and we argued. I haven’t seen him in over a year, and I know he’s pissed.”

“Before ya came, I toyed with goin’ back but I don’t know. I don’t wanna hurt him, or any of our other friends. And I can’t exactly go out in Kyoto city the way I am now.”

Kiyoomi breathes in slowly. Then he reaches across the chabudai and gently sets his hand over Atsumu’s. 

“You haven’t hurt me,” he tells Atsumu, his voice softening. “And you had every chance to. I don’t think you could if you tried…You’re a good man,” Kiyoomi says, swallowing. “I’m an expert on the awful ones and that isn’t you.”

“Yer sweet, Omi-kun, I don’t know why ya pretend yer not.”

Even blindfolded and in the dark, Kiyoomi feels his cheeks heat at the compliment. His first instinct is to snap that he’s not sweet or anything else nice, and that many days he feels no better than the dirt beneath his shoe that he walks on, pecked at by the crows when they want something to feast on. But he feels the back of Atsumu’s warm human hand brush against his cheek and he flinches, drawing back suddenly.

“I don’t…Normally like when I can’t see someone,” he blurts suddenly, unsure why he felt the need to divulge such a thing.

“Ya do okay when yer with me,” Atsumu softly responds. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to in over a year, it’s strange you bein’ here, like a dream I’m bound to wake from.”

“I am slowly becoming desensitised,” murmurs Kiyoomi, leaning in to allow Atsumu to brush a thumb over his jaw. “You break my rules as I break yours.”

With neither knowing – or not daring, to make another movement, they sit in silence like that, breathing in unison. The air around them feels charged and when Atsumu’s hand withdraws, Kiyoomi feels his heart clench with longing. These new foreign feelings are not something he knows what to do with so when he opens his mouth, no words come and he abruptly closes it again. He feels ridiculous when he barely knows the man and will barely get a chance to once they depart. It’s a habit, Kiyoomi realises like a punch to the gut, how often he sets himself up for a heartbreak.

In the kitchen, the pot at the kamado bubbles and Atsumu abruptly stands with all the heaviness of a man with a burden he ought to share.

“I’ll take ya still, a promise is a promise.”

Not everything needs to be solved tonight, yet something between them has shifted like the thaw of frost on the first morning of spring. 

As Atsumu busies himself in the hut, Kiyoomi sits and mulls over his confession and he thinks of his own sister, whom he will never touch or talk to in this life again. Atsumu is clearing the chabudai when he finally speaks up.

“You should write to him,” he says cautiously as he treads volatile territory. “Osamu. He may be upset, but he loves you.”

Atsumu seems to falter, dropping one of the bowls onto the low table with a heavy clang.

“...You miss him, and think of him all the time– he may be wondering if you’re okay, he may be scared to reach out for himself–” Crawling along the cushion, Kiyoomi kneels at his feet. “You think the one you shared a womb with wouldn’t want a letter from you? You think you could ever hurt someone like him?”

That gets a reaction— Atsumu snorts, unceremoniously dropping the rest of the plates back down with a clatter that makes Kiyoomi flinch.

“Would it be that easy? I fuckin’ killed someone, and then I ran away. I don’t…” Trailing off, all Kiyoomi can hear is his heavy, uncontrolled breathing. “I don’t deserve to patch up shit with how badly I’ve hurt my little brother. People back home know , just like they do in yer village. I fucked my little brother’s life up almost as badly as I fucked my own up, and don’t get me started on Hana’s family.”

Sucking in a breath, Kiyoomi waits for him to finish, his hands curling in at his sides when Atsumu’s voice raises an octave. Finally, with the blindfold still wrapped around his eyes, he tilts his head up to Atsumu’s. “What good is hiding away here? You may have hurt people, but staying here for the rest of your life only makes it worse. Staying here forever would be a torture to you both, and for the other friends you left behind. Don’t tell me, Miya, that you think they’re better off without you?” Kiyoomi snorts, because he can’t help himself, though perhaps he is too blunt and too rash. “That isn’t you. Wallowing for so long in your misery doesn’t seem like you. I’ve done it, I still do it. It only decays you from the inside out.”

Suddenly, Atsumu turns away from him, and Kiyoomi can hear him pace the tatami mats only a few feet away. “Ya don’t know me, just…” He lowers his voice, as though struggling to contain his frustration. “Don’t meddle in shit ya don’t understand. Like ya said earlier, it’ll hardly matter to ya when yer in Kyoto.”

“I didn’t mean that…” Kiyoomi whispers. “It would matter because…I…We’re friends.” We’re something. “I wouldn’t be saying this to you if none of it mattered. You’re not your curse, and I merely suggested–”

“I am, this is me, don’t ya see?” Atsumu lurches forward, yanking the blindfold over Kiyoomi’s head. Eyes squeezed shut, Kiyoomi avoids making him turn – though that seems to only rile Atsumu up more and he groans frustratedly. “I’m not goin’ home until I find a fix fer this shit, and I’m not goin’ to see him so I can hurt him more. Just…” He trails off and Kiyoomi hears Atsumu back away from him to another part of the house. 

Kiyoomi pads around on the tatami mat, his hands shaking a little, and fixes his blindfold back onto his face with a heavy sigh. There’s a rustle of clothes and what sounds like Atsumu fetching his coat and boots.

“Go to bed, I need to get out.”

“...I only want for you to stop being alone.” Kiyoomi tries one final time. 

“Fer that to work it needs both of us.” 

And then the door slides shut, a chill escaping into the warm hut on his way out.

Kiyoomi doesn’t move, only to remove his blindfold so he can blink and let his dark eyes adjust to the dim glow of the candlelight. He exhales slowly and feels the tension refuse to leave – the familiar blossom of a hollow ache growing in his stomach.

After what feels like almost an hour, he rises to his feet and makes his way to the window. There’s an orange glow coming from the stable, so he at least knows Atsumu hasn’t wandered off into the night. Though, he hears the distant howl of a wolf and he suspects that Atsumu would be okay.

Inside and alone, the silence is quick to turn oppressive and Kiyoomi does the only thing he can think to do. Too wired to sleep, he finishes the chores. Washes the cups and bowls, relights the kamado and sweeps the floors. Atsumu may want to warm himself in the bath, so he keeps the water warm. He reorganises the pantry and finds Atsumu’s old bow, broken and hidden in a corner away from view.

Kiyoomi knows little of weaponry, though he spent his childhood learning to sew and mend things, so, perhaps as a peace offering, he sets to work mending it. Trembling fingers are soon precise as he removes splinters from the snapped wood and slices off a strip of silk from one of his kosode’s for a brace. He digs around for several minutes until he finds a sticky plant resin, and uses it to fill the gaps in the bow, hoping it’s enough for it to be used again.

By the time he’s finished it’s late into the night, yet he still cannot find it within himself to rest. He settles on his futon, though keeps the curtain open, with the hibachi warming his feet as he mends a hole in one of his robes. Easy, mindless work. He burns sandalwood incense in the hut to add fragrance to their freshly washed, hanging clothes and it fills the home with a warm, soothing scent.

When the door slides open and Atsumu reenters, Kiyoomi doesn’t immediately look up, unsure what kind of mood he has returned in. The needlework on his lap is soon forgotten, for he listens to the sounds of Atsumu locking the door and removing his boots at the genkan.

“Looks nice in here,” mutters Atsumu, his voice gravelly with guilt - a voice Kiyoomi knows is searching for a peace offering. It's a good thing Kiyoomi prepared one of his own. “I wanted to apologise if I scared ya earlier.”

Closing his eyes, Kiyoomi discards the robe and needle to the ground and shifts on his futon. “I wasn’t, it’s fine...I overstepped. I'm quite blunt."

Atsumu lingers awkwardly for a long moment before crossing the room, sinking onto one of the cushions by the open curtain.

“Yer perfect, Omi. I got my terrible temper from my ma…’Samu, he’s not much different, except I’m the one who blows up easily and cools down quick, he was always the opposite like our pa.” Allowing Atsumu take the lead, Kiyoomi doesn’t respond, though he cocks his head slightly in response. “Didja fix my bow too?!”

“I don’t know if I would say fixed. I’ve never mended a bow before, but you can try it when the resin dries. I noticed it in the pantry…” Kiyoomi blushes furiously, head dipped low. “I thought you might need to use it. If it’s no good, I’ll find the gold to buy another.”

He hears Atsumu clear his throat. “Thank ya, Omi, it’s perfect. I'll give her a go when she's dry, ya don't hafta buy me anythin'"

An awkward silence falls, until both of them open their mouths and speak in unison: “I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have pried,” Kiyoomi says at the same time Atsumu says:

“Yer probably right.” They both flush and quieten, though Kiyoomi crawls across the futon to settle on his knees by Atsumu and takes his blindfold, before tentatively reaching out with his eyes closed to try and cover Atsumu’s eyes.

“Omi? Ain’t this fer ya?”

Ignoring him, Kiyoomi tries to fasten the blindfold over Atsumu’s face – almost poking him in the eye in the process before Atsumu helps him out and ties it behind his head for him.

“There,” he says, once both of them can see nothing but darkness, and Atsumu will no longer be able to see the pink glow of his cheeks or the anguished look on his face. “I had a sister once,” he starts, feeling only moderately more comfortable now Atsumu is blindfolded. “My father lost her to a game of cards. A lord from Kyoto visited a nearby shrine and stayed with us, bringing an entire harem of women with him. He may as well have been a beast with the body of a man with great claws beneath his robes. The man wouldn’t accept jewels or livestock as a wager, only her, and my father accepted - he had a terrible gambling habit and it's a miracle we didn't lose the entire village. When he lost, it was late at night and she packed her bags then and there. When I woke the next morning, she was already gone.” It feels strange to utter the tale aloud, but if Kiyoomi were to tell her story, of all the men to tell it too, something in him told him it should be Atsumu. "I didn't see her again."

“She died in childbirth eleven months later and in that house it were as if she never existed. I didn’t get the chance to write, nor run away to find her. I wanted to hurt them – especially my father, when he had the audacity to enter my chambers and weep against me. I shouldn’t pry into your affairs, but I suppose…I wanted you to know why I did.”

“I’m glad ya told me,” Atsumu says after a stretch of silence. “I’m sorry they did that to her. None of you deserved that. Omi I– earlier there was somethin’...I don’t know what I heard.” His mouth abruptly closes and Kiyoomi’s heart beats faster. 

“What is it?”

“The farmer’s today, said somethin’."

“It’s a lie whatever it is,” Kiyoomi says far too quickly, cutting Atsumu off before he can utter another word. “It’s a horrid rumour the villagers started after the first famine. They lost faith in my family and wanted to tarnish our name.” He barely remembers to breathe as he speaks, grateful that the blindfold around Atsumu’s head prevents him from seeing how violently Kiyoomi’s hands tremble. “Ignore what they said.” 

He knows he isn’t very convincing, and all he wants to do is grab Atsumu and make him believe he’s still unsullied. To shake him and scream into his face that it wasn’t him, it wasn’t true, they always had a disdain for the lord that could never make the crops regrow or the disease to stop spreading. The judgement – Kiyoomi is certain that’s the look Atsumu has on his face, radiates off of him. Bile threatens to bubble up into his throat and he’s about to stand to hide behind his curtain when the sound of Atsumu moving causes him to pause.

“I won’t ask ya about it,” Atsumu says with a sigh as he returns to the chabudai. There’s a clatter as he spreads some items across the table. “But yer safe here. From those villagers and whoever else.”

“Thank you,” utters Kiyoomi quietly, shifting more comfortably on the futon now the tension has lifted. “What are you doing?”

“Writin’ this damn letter,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I might need ya to look at it. My handwritin’ sucks, I usually get ink everywhere.”

It’s silent for a long while as Atsumu sits deep in thought, and then Kiyoomi hears the telltale scratch of ink pen against parchment. His moves are hesitant to begin with and he seems to stop every other word as though deep in thought. It's a soothing sound, and Kiyoomi is able to relax, listening  to Atsumu's soft breathing as he writes. He turns away so he can finish embroidering their clothes, enjoying the calm, comfortable quiet that settles between them. 

It takes over an hour for Atsumu to finish the letter, after several tuts of annoyance and curses when his hand slips and he spatters ink everywhere or when he starts over after the kanji isn’t straight enough. He’s a perfectionist, Kiyoomi has come to realise, expecting only the best from himself and those around him. When he doesn’t get something right, he tries and tries again. He finds it both admirable and relatable. In the beginning, he had thought that they shared few, if any, similarities. But as the days and weeks go on, Kiyoomi realises that it’s not the case at all.

Atsumu finishes the letter with a final flicking stroke of his brush. There’s a clink as he drops his quill into the clay pot and sits back to admire his handiwork.

“It’s good, I’m sure. Hopefully the scrub won’t be too mad at me.”

Lowering the blindfold, Kiyoomi cautiously crawls to the chabudai, his ankle still throbbing, and sits on the cushion opposite where Atsumu sits. “You’re finished?” He asks, “would you like me to read it?”

“It’s probably kinda…Personal.”

“We’ve shared quite a lot together tonight,” soothes Kiyoomi. “I’m in no place to judge anybody.”

“Alright, my kanji is kinda shaky. I don’t do much letter writin’, not even back in Kyoto,” he says, sounding almost nervous, as the parchment is carefully pushed across the tabletop to Kiyoomi’s waiting hands. “I’m goin’ to check the fire.”

With Atsumu busying himself, Kiyoomi lifts the parchment to the candlelight, cautious not to disturb the drying ink. He meticulously scans the kanji, assessing each of the words on paper. It’s full of feeling and the clumsy handwriting is endearing and authentic. Both the longing and the apology is evident in each scratchy word and crooked line. Kiyoomi swells with pride as he sets it onto the table.

“It’s perfect,” he says simply. “You two will be okay.”

“He’s goin’ to be pissed,” Atsumu says, abruptly stopping what he’s doing before returning to the chabudai with two filled glasses of sake. “I was shitty, as ya know.”

“If he’s anything like you, I imagine he might be annoyed,” Kiyoomi agrees, “but you’re twins, you were attached at the hip. I think you’ll have nothing to worry about, if you want to stay in Kyoto instead of returning here. You’re doing well, Atsumu. When you love someone, you’ll face the uncomfortable to fix things, and he will do the same for you.”

Atsumu warms, but he stiffens with nerves at the same time. “Stayin’ in Kyoto wasn’t part of the plan, Omi.”

“No, but you should consider going home. Or at least, staying nearby. In a place like this.”

He can practically feel Atsumu’s smile. Small and uncertain, before spreading ear-to-ear. “Only if ya promise to visit me, Omi-kun,” he jokes.

“Of course I would,” Kiyoomi says without thinking, his mouth working automatically. Once the words are out of his mouth, his face immediately heats and he considers playing it off as a teasing joke – though when he thinks about it he realises he means it.

“Yer goin’ to give me a heart attack!” Atsumu dramatically complains. “Ya have to give me a warnin’ when ya get sweet on me, my teeth might fall out.”

The words cause Kiyoomi’s stomach to stir, the butterflies fluttering again, and he shifts uncomfortably, suddenly feeling hot in his thin kosode. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles. 

“Nope, I know I will,” Atsumu responds cheekily, “yer growin’ softer by the day.”

“Stop that,” Kiyoomi mutters, embarrassed.

“No way, Omi-kun.” He hears Atsumu shuffle until they’re side-by-side, his breath warm on Kiyoomi’s neck. “I like when ya get a pretty colour to yer cheeks.”

His eyes are squeezed shut, though Kiyoomi can sense the smug, flirtatious smile playing on Atsumu’s lips. They’re so close to his face, Kiyoomi could probably tilt his face a little to the side—

He halts that train of thought.

He likes Atsumu, but does Atsumu like him for him, or for his feminine body? Kiyoomi was never any good at telling the difference, not when it’s always been the latter. Atsumu sees him as a man…but the uncertainty still gnaws at him.

For now, tiredness overtakes him, and he slumps against Atsumu’s shoulder. “You say all sorts of bizarre things,” he mumbles. “I…don’t know what to think.”

“Rest, darlin’,” Atsumu says against his hair, wrapping one arm around Kiyoomi to bring him into a tight embrace. “I’ll show ya soon.”

Kiyoomi isn’t quite sure what that means, but he doesn’t argue it, and simply lets himself be lowered onto the ground, spread out atop Atsumu’s body where the rise and fall of his chest will lull him to sleep.

Chapter Text

chapter five.

Leaning comfortably against Atsumu, Kiyoomi sleeps soundly, only vaguely registering when he’s lowered to the futon with an arm draped protectively around his waist that pulls him against Atsumu’s warm body. It’s safe and he sighs contentedly, quietly lapping up the affection whilst it’s offered to him before twisting to face Atsumu and falling back into a deep sleep with his chin resting on the man’s shoulder.

When Kiyoomi stirs later, morning light floods into the cabin and the smell of fresh eggs wafts to his nose. Opening his eyes, he jumps, realising he is lying on the floor in the cabin bundled up on Atsumu’s futon, surrounded by animal furs and blankets. A few months ago, Kiyoomi may have been frightened, or checked to see if he had been violated but the thought doesn’t cross his mind when it comes to Atsumu. He blinks up at the earth-packed ceiling, tugging a blanket that smells strongly of Atsumu up to his nose. He deliberately keeps his gaze away from the kitchen, longing to peek at Atsumu as he works in the kitchen.

He’s desperate to see what the man he’s been touching and cuddling up with looks like. Kiyoomi has caressed the curve of his jaw and the shape of his cheeks and nose, ran his fingers through Atsumu’s short hair, but his imagination only goes so far and Kiyoomi—

Flushing, he rolls onto his stomach, pretending to be asleep still. He does all he can to avoid using his imagination, as images of the wolf’s large frame often enter his mind unbidden. Its broad muscles and thick waist and thighs enter Kiyoomi’s dreams. He’s felt Atsumu’s muscles briefly and he is almost as large. For a moment, Kiyoomi wonders if Atsumu is as large as the wolf in other ways. More than once he has witnessed the wolf’s large cock swing back and forth before him, though he has only taken subtle glances when Atsumu is not paying attention – the thought of the other man knowing he’s studied him there is absolutely mortifying. Over the weeks, he has been too high on alert and running on adrenaline to think of his needs, but each day Kiyoomi grows more and more restless, his core throbbing whenever Atsumu lifts him or tugs him against his chest. It leaves Kiyoomi wanting in ways that frighten him.

He assumed he might never feel that way about anyone again and the realisation that he is still human with human feelings is as liberating as it is terrifying.

A clatter of pots and pans brings him back to the present and he ignores the pulsing between his legs. Rolling over, he yanks the blindfold over his face and sits upright.

“You are so noisy. What are you doing?” He questions.

“Oh! Great, sleepyhead is finally awake!” Atsumu’s voice is far too chipper for the hour and Kiyoomi scowls. It is far too early, and his ‘husband’ is in a suspiciously good mood, which does not bode well for Kiyoomi. “It’s a nice mornin’, reckon it’ll be a hot day and I reckon we could head down to the river.”

Kiyoomi twists in the direction of Atsumu, frown deepening. “What is down by the river?”

“Don’t be so suspicious,” chides Atsumu with a small smirk as he clatters around in the kitchen area. “There’s fish. And water to swim in. And I’m almost outta water in the barrels out back…And, I think ya ought to go have some fun.”

“Fun?” Kiyoomi responds in disbelief, his voice raising an octave. “I can’t swim.”

“So, now’s the perfect time to learn!”

“Absolutely not,” he abruptly snaps, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “You have lost your sense if you think that I am going to get in the water with you.”

“C’mon,” Atsumu coaxes, pausing in whatever he’s doing across the room. “When have we left the hut just fer fun? It ain’t even deep, yer feet will touch the bottom, and I happen to be a very attentive teacher. You’ll have fun, I swear Omiiiii–”

The thought of trusting Atsumu – or anyone really, in the water, causes Kiyoomi’s heart to race with anxiety. Their proximity…The lack of clothing…The blindfold… He’s seconds from spinning out of control when Atsumu’s voice unknowingly pulls him out of it again.

“I know yer silently broodin’ over there, if ya really hate it…O-or it freaks ya out or whatever, I swear I’ll take ya back to the shore.” He hears Atsumu cross the room, crouching in front of him. When a hand tucks a stray curl from behind his ear, Kiyoomi flinches in surprise, but doesn’t move away. 

(He’s still getting used to that… Anyone else and he’d be on the verge of a panic attack, but not with Atsumu. His touch leaves him warm)

“Sorry,” he quickly apologises, though Kiyoomi shakes his head and tentatively leans into the touch, his heart racing as he does so. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to ya, and if yer uncomfortable we can go.”

Slowly, Kiyoomi nods, a little overwhelmed from their closeness when he feels Atsumu’s warm breath by his cheek. Despite that, he makes no attempt to move. Even if they don’t have long together and whatever tension that is so obviously between them goes nowhere, Kiyoomi thinks he could be a little selfish and bask in whatever this is, for as long as they have.

“...I’ll try,” he whispers. “Just once.” Then, when he knows Atsumu has broken into a smile, he continues: “if you push me in, or laugh at me, or anything else – I will end you.”

“On my best behaviour, as always.” He feels Atsumu knock his shoulder against him; his laughter golden. “I’ll even piggyback ya over the mud if yer extra nice to me.”

Scoffing, Kiyoomi dramatically rolls his eyes as Atsumu stands. “You will do no such thing. I’ll make you turn.”

“It’s almost as if ya like me as a big, cuddly wolfie,” jokes Atsumu, jumping out of the way when Kiyoomi blindly swats at him.

He hears him laugh insufferably loud as he escapes to the kitchen – and with the warmth of him leaving Kiyoomi’s side, all Kiyoomi can think of is how he has never seen that smile. And how he won’t ever, which is another one of the cruel things life seems to take away from him. The knowledge that he feels something for a man he has never laid eyes upon before, only touched and felt the warmth of, is a truly shocking revelation to him. Though his acceptance grows with each passing day; the knowledge that they may part should Atsumu return to this cabin after Kyoto slowly becomes more and more real.

It’s ridiculous, he knows this, he needs only ask Atsumu instead of torturing himself – but the answer scares him too much to ask. 

When they leave the cabin an hour later, the sun is high in the sky, the warmth of spring finally arriving. The worst part of the mile walk to the river is the blindfold and several times – when Kiyoomi almost trips over an exposed tree root or steps in a small puddle, he considers throttling Atsumu – though the man doesn’t let him get dirty or hurt himself once. Morning dew has dried though the ground is soft from the recent rain. Kiyoomi sees shades of sunlight shine through the blindfold and when he exhales – aside from the sandalwood clinging to Atsumu’s hair and clothes, he smells fresh moss and wildflowers. 

“Ya know, ya walkin’ like someone’s holdin’ a knife to ya,” he lightly teases. “We’re goin’ to fer a swim, not to a funeral.”

Kiyoomi huffs, adjusting the sleeves of his robe with unnecessary fuss. “I don’t like the bugs. And I told you I do not swim.”

He hears Atsumu snort, his hand tightening on his arm. “I doubt the bugs like ya either, yer all sour.”

“I won’t hesitate to push you in the river,” Kiyoomi deadpans, shoving Atsumu lightly as they walk.

“I’d only drag ya down with me,” jokes Atsumu, though Kiyoomi suspects it is not a joke whatsoever.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” he sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“And anyway, ya must be enjoyin’ yerself if yer threatenin’ violence on me.”

“I suppose…The fresh air is nice. I haven’t been through this part of the woods before.”

“Wait until we get to the water, it’s beautiful. Clear blue, the cleanest water ever. It’s not too cold either.”

Kiyoomi mutters something about not being convinced that Atsumu pretends not to hear. The conversation dies after that, though it isn’t uncomfortable as they settle into a gentle rhythm. 

“You should laugh more, y’know,” Atsumu comments casually, breaking their silence, his voice as gentle and sincere as the soft breeze that tickles Kiyoomi’s curls from his face. “Even if it’s at my expense. I’ll make it my mission.” 

He opens his mouth to grumble a retort, but as they round a corner and pass through a small thicket, the sound of slow running water distracts him.

The trees part to reveal a grassy clearing and the curve of the river. A large fish splashes near the surface, dipping out before diving back under the water as though sensing their approach. Sunlight catches the water's surface and it seems to shine brightly. Only the gentle splash of water and the buzzing of nearby insects can be heard. 

Atsumu stops, leaning on Kiyoomi – who scowls in his direction, as he removes his sandals. “Here.” Positioning himself behind Kiyoomi, he removes the blindfold and shows him the river. “Ain’t it nice here? It’s untouched land, stretchin’ fer miles.”

Admiring the view before him, Kiyoomi tries not to gasp when Atsumu’s hand rests at his nape. A few months ago he might have startled at being approached and touched from behind, but it feels nice and he closes his eyes, enjoying the sun on his face, before rocking his head back to bump it on Atsumu’s shoulder.

“I admit it isn’t bad here.”

“Isn’t bad, he says,” Atsumu teases, stroking his hands through Kiyoomi’s curls lovingly. “Let’s go enjoy it. I’ll help ya into the water.”

With a nod, Kiyoomi turns and stalks towards a small gathering of trees and shrubbery. He hears Atsumu hurriedly undress and splash into the water and once Kiyoomi is in cover, he removes the top layers of his robes until he’s only in his thin kosode, no longer shy to be seen by Atsumu in his under garments as he walks out confidently, eyes down at his feet until he reaches the riverbank.

He hears Atsumu slosh through the water, but as Kiyoomi holds out a slender, pale hand for him to take, he is splashed with cool water and he jumps, gasping out loud.

“You did that on purpose!” He hisses, hands crossed in front of him.

“‘Course I did–” god he can feel Atsumu’s silly, sly grin. “I’ll be serious now, promise. Gimme yer hand.”

Kiyoomi makes a big show of huffing, before taking a small, tentative step closer to the water, his toes rubbing smooth stones. A hand reaches out, carefully prying his crossed arms open so he can take Kiyoomi by the hand – properly by the hand, and help him into the water.

“If I get sick, or a fish crawls on me, or something else disgusting. It will be all your fault.”

Snickering, Atsumu helps Kiyoomi wade in until he’s up to his knees in the water. It’s cold, but not uncomfortably so. “This water is straight from the mountain, it’s good. And the fish don’t crawl, they swim. So you’ll be alright, highness.”

Kiyoomi glares at the water hard, choosing not to reply to Atsumu’s retort. “It’s deep…” He comments as he’s led into the water until it laps at his lower stomach.

“You can still stand, can’t ya?”

“Don’t lead me any further. I’ve never tried this before.”

“Just don’t drown,” Atsumu jokes, earning himself a splash to the face from Kiyoomi. “C’mon, Omi-kun. I ain’t goin’ to let ya swallow any water. Try kickin’ yer legs, you’ll float.”

For several moments, Kiyoomi tries lifting his feet from the floor – now with his eyes squeezed shut, as he clings onto Atsumu’s forearms for dear life. His legs kick out like a frog, though he resembles a baby deer taking its first few steps with how shaky and unsure he is.

“Ya need to let yerself go floppier, ya won’t float like that.”

“It’s hard,” Kiyoomi huffs, still flailing around in the water. “And I can’t see if you didn’t notice.”

“Here, stay still,” he hears Atsumu mutter, before he moves around Kiyoomi and— and a hand flattens on the middle of his abdomen and pushes up. “I’ll help ya float until ya get the hang of it.”

“Miya…”

“Easy, yer doin’ fine. Like a buoy now, look.” Kiyoomi wears a concentrated frown as he tries to follow Atsumu’s instructions, unsure how he manages to kick his legs straight and stay afloat with the feel of Atsumu’s hand pressing against him so roughly.

“This feels so embarrassing,” he huffs in response, his muscles beginning to strain. 

Atsumu snickers, his thumb rubbing a circle on Kiyoomi’s abdomen. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. I’m goin’ to remove my hand, and ya can keep doin’ what yer doin’. There’s nothin’ in front of ya, and I’m right next to ya, see–”

Before Kiyoomi has the chance to retort or demand that Atsumu does not let go of him for an instant, he moves his hand and places it lightly on Kiyoomi’s back, as though using it as a reminder that he’s a man of his word and he is not going to let anything bad happen to him. The thought is comforting and with newfound determination, Kiyoomi kicks as Atsumu taught him, and soon, he’s moving through the water. The current helps him a little, but he’s moving – albeit about as slow as a toddler might, but he’s moving all the same.

“See, ain’t so hard is it?” Atsumu chirps, the pride practically radiating off of him, when Kiyoomi comes to a stop several metres down the river and stops, planting his feet on the smooth ground. “What do ya think?”

“I think…Even the youngest children back in the village would absolutely put me to shame.”

“Pfft, it’s only yer first time.” Then, he feels Atsumu take him by the arm and guide him towards what Kiyoomi hopes is the bank to climb out of. “Soak it up, Omi-kun, there aren’t as many places like this in Kyoto.”

Kiyoomi splashes him, the sound of Atsumu spluttering making him smile slightly.

For the next hour they splash around in the shallows and Kiyoomi practises his breast stroke (alone, and with his eyes open). The forest and everything within soon fades into nothingness. Only the river, sunlight, and laughter – with Kiyoomi’s sounding softer and more genuine than he remembers it being in years, remain. 

It’s only when his limbs start to ache do they climb out of the bank and lie down in the sun to dry off. It’s a hot day and it’s clear summer is approaching, the air thick with the smell of tall grass and nearby wildflowers. Kiyoomi feels himself drift off, and when he wakes less than thirty minutes later, to cool his feet off in the water, he hears a loud splash and then a grunt as Atsumu pulls himself out of the water after a swim and joins him at the grassy bank.

“I think you might be a fish, not a wolf,” comments Kiyoomi idly, listening to the sound of Atsumu stripping out of his wet clothes to dry off. To rid himself of the less than savoury thoughts, he fiddles with the blindfold before wrapping it back around his head.

“Would ya like me better if I was?” Atsumu jokes, nudging him with his shoulder. Kiyoomi nudges him back, trying not to think about his nakedness. “Or would I be too slimy? Not cuddly enough?”

“The latter is a bonus,” grumbles Kiyoomi, barely loud enough to be heard. “Can you put some clothes on?”

“Still dryin’,” Atsumu responds with a shrug, his shoulder still brushing Kiyoomi’s. “Why, are ya nervous? Embarrassed? Thinkin’ about how I might look?”

“No,” Kiyoomi snaps, his face heating. “It’s unbecoming.”

“It’s just the two of us boys,” Atsumu teases, “nobody’s goin’ to see and think somethin’ unsavoury is happenin’.” In spite of his words, Kiyoomi hears him tugging on his under robe. “Don’t ya have those fancy steam baths ya share where yer from?”

“I suppose…” He hesitates, gnawing on his lip. “I’m used to bathing with the women.” 

“...Do I make ya uncomfortable?” When Atsumu speaks, he sounds unsure and perhaps a little nervous and he moves his arm, breaking their touch.

In response, Kiyoomi follows him, leaning against his side. “You don’t, I wouldn’t be here if you did. I don’t make a habit of doing things I hate.”

“Ya came and swam with me, though,” comments Atsumu. Kiyoomi feels him go stiff against him, and he belatedly realises he’s also rigid and embarrassed, currently wading through no man’s land, in territory neither of them have ever truly explored. 

“Yes,” Kiyoomi utters, his mouth going dry. “I did.”

His heart hammers even faster than his first day with Atsumu, though he makes no attempt to move away from him and slowly but surely, one of Atsumu’s arms extends around his waist, clutching him over his kosode.

Bit by bit, until he grasps the confidence, Kiyoomi lowers his head on Atsumu’s shoulder.

“Yer not a bad swimmer fer a little prince, I’ll have ya catchin’ fish with yer bare hands soon enough, Omi-kun.”

Scrunching up his nose, Kiyoomi turns abruptly and bats blindly at him, causing Atsumu to stumble and roll backwards with a laugh. “You’re insufferable. I will not be touching those things.”

They wrestle on the grass, Kiyoomi hardly noticing that he’s rolling around in dirt, his kosode ruined with grass stains. It doesn’t take Atsumu long to get the upper hand and he pins Kiyoomi on his back, hovering just above him.

Kiyoomi can’t see but he can sense their proximity and the comfortable warmth of Atsumu’s body resting on top of him. Ordinarily he’d feel panicked at their position and how easy it would be for someone like him to hurt him, and how there would be no other people for miles to save him should he scream. His pulse quickens, though it is not from fear.

“I feel safe with you,” he tells him out of the blue, unsure why he felt the need to say so. “I don’t know when it started, but it’s true. I’m at ease with you…It’s unfamiliar, and unexpected.” He frowns. “Confusing…But it’s not a bad thing I don't think.”

When Atsumu doesn’t respond, Kiyoomi feels the apprehension take hold and he wonders if he said something wrong or if he’s misread their closeness. He’s desperate to remove his blindfold, mourning the way he’ll never see the look on Atsumu’s face. 

“Omi…” He hears Atsumu’s soft voice, his face closer than he initially thought.

“What?” Kiyoomi snaps, defensiveness flaring. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I’m goin’ to do somethin’, though.” Fingers brush through Kiyoomi’s damp, tangled curls. “If ya don’t like it ya get a free pass to slap me.”

Kiyoomi snorts, though starts to quiver with nerves. “I would do that anyway.”

For a long moment, neither of them speak. The world narrows to the rush of water, the fluttering breeze and the steady weight of Atsumu’s body on him. There’s a foreign tightness in Kiyoomi’s chest, something delicate and frightening all at once.

He knows Atsumu’s eyes are a deep golden brown, though he wonders if they’re closed, or wide and vulnerable. If they’re studying his face or looking off into the distance. He wants to see them – not the eyes of the wolf, which he has learnt are no more frightening than Atsumu, but his own as they reflect sunlight. Something cracks and the world around them melts away.

Atsumu swallows, his voice a low whisper meant for the wind and Kiyoomi. “I’ve never wanted to protect somethin’ so bad in my life. I figured I was used to livin’ in a crowded house with multiple people my whole life, that I was just lonely and attachin’ myself to the first person who walked through my door. But that ain’t the case.” 

The hand smoothing out Kiyoomi’s curls dances slowly down the side of his face, outlining his jaw with a featherlight touch. He doesn’t breathe, freezing as Atsumu takes his time to feel along the curves of his face and the softness of his skin. Kiyoomi knows what’s coming, he feels his lip quiver and for a brief moment, wonders how far he would get if he stood up and ran. It’s the safe option, one where he won’t risk old memories resurfacing and his heart breaking, but his body moves of i’s own accord and as Atsumu leans down, Kiyoomi stretches up and they meet in the middle like they’re testing something sacred.

Their lips meet tentatively and it’s barely a press of skin on skin. It’s the first one Kiyoomi has had that hasn’t made him want to tear out of his own skin. He lies on the dewy grass, stiff as a wooden board, as Atsumu pecks his lips, once, twice, three more times. Soon Kiyoomi relaxes into it, his hand lifting to settle on Atsumu’s nape and then he’s kissing back. He knows it’s awkward and likely one of the worst kisses anyone has ever had, especially when they bump noses and Kiyoomi misses and kisses the corner of Atsumu’s mouth instead, but it feels like a home he’s never had. 

They sit together like that for a long time – kissing languidly with the sound of cicadas buzzing and the distant call of birds. When they eventually part, Kiyoomi’s lips warm and wet with spit, neither rushing to speak nor make an attempt to move away from one another. Chests rising and falling in unison, Kiyoomi listens for the rapid beat of Atsumu’s heart as something fuzzy and warm settles comfortably between them. Even with the blindfold, he knows he is revered. 

Breaths mingling, their lips are so close, Kiyoomi could stick out his tongue and taste him. His hand rests on Atsumu’s nape, his fingers trembling slightly and his knuckles white as he brushes the fabric of his kosode.

Atsumu is the first to move, his hands moving to touch Kiyoomi’s face, cupping his cheeks delicately like he’s afraid Kiyoomi might run. “Is that okay?”

With his heart too loud and his thoughts too fast, Kiyoomi doesn’t reply straight away. He nods, almost imperceptibly, and exhales steadily before leaning forward to relax into Atsumu, his lips brushing the man’s cheek softly. 

“More than,” he finally whispers, as though he were too afraid to utter the words any louder. “It’s just…New. Unexpected. I don’t like starting things when I don’t know when they end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Atsumu says with determination, his hands running soothingly through Kiyoomi’s curls. “Not every outcome is goin’ to hurt. I’m learnin’ that runnin’ from things that hurt to lose is no way to live at all.”

Nodding, Kiyoomi rests his forehead against Atsumu’s and sighs. “I’m still scared.”

“Yeah? Makes two of us darlin’”

“The more I spend time with you here, the less I want to go back to the real world,” Kiyoomi shyly admits. “I wanted… want to go to Kyoto, Motoya has always been my only hope – but then what? I’ve never thought about what I’ll do when I’m there, whether I would need employment… If they would even employ me as I am.”

“I know a certain big, bad wolf ya can sneak off to go stargazin’ with. Maybe he could teach ya how to fish.”

Kiyoomi laughs, though pauses, surprised. “You wouldn’t come back here?”

Atsumu shifts – shrugging, before pushing his forehead against Kiyoomi’s. “I’ve just been thinkin’ a lot I guess. Ain’t much I can do except live on the outskirts, but I can’t stay here forever.”

Briefly grateful for the blindfold, Kiyoomi considers his next words carefully. “I need to compartmentalise, or I’ll lose my mind. I can’t jump blindly into something.”

“Ya think far too much, Omi,” Atsumu says softly, meeting him for a brief peck on the lips which has Kiyoomi, against his will, craving more. “But if it makes ya feel better, I’ll give ya all the time in the world. I…probably shouldn’t have sprang that on ya but the moment felt right. I can see ya catastrophisin’ the entire thing and… Fuck, I didn’t mean to make ya fret.”

“You haven’t, not really,” Kiyoomi shakily confesses after sensing Atsumu’s drift. “You aren’t the only one who has been thinking of this. I did kiss you back, and I have not run away.”

“Ya thought about it though, didn’t ya?” Atsumu asks, though the words contain no judgement.

“I still am,” Kiyoomi truthfully admits, his hand tightening on Atsumu’s nape as though a silent confirmation that although it plagues the back of his mind, he won’t actually run. “It's an awfully tiring way to live though.”

When Atsumu kisses him again, his fingers tipping Kiyoomi’s chin to the sky, Kiyoomi can feel the boyish smile pressing against his lips. “We can figure this out later.”

Humming in response, Kiyoomi focuses on the sound of Atsumu breathing and the thumb rubbing circles on his cheek to distract from his treacherous thoughts from pondering the what if’s of it all. It feels good to chase something he wants, though that in itself is frightening. But for a moment, the nagging feeling like he’s too unclean and doesn’t deserve such softness is muted, like a quiet voice lost in the falling rain. The woods aren’t finished with him yet but for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t mind being stuck in the limbo between his old home and the new. His fingers curl into Atsumu’s sleeve, grounding him and keeping the man close.

“I didn’t expect it to feel like this,” he murmurs almost soundlessly, the only indication that Atsumu heard being the gentle squeeze of his fingers from where their hands have met. “I only wish that I could look upon you.” Before he can lament further, he’s kissed again – a reminder that this is enough.

The rest of the evening passes slowly, but not uncomfortably. Kiyoomi leaves the fishing and cooking to Atsumu as he basks in the evening sun. They eat the fish and some berries Kiyoomi foraged from the path the way they came and then they watch the sunset as Atsumu chatters away idly and Kiyoomi listens intently to prevent his thoughts from straying. While Atsumu seems content living in the now, going with the flow and letting whatever happens happen, Kiyoomi is a chronic worrier, wondering what the next day, month, or year, will bring. Thankfully by nightfall, he is too exhausted from the day to let his thoughts spiral. As he talks, Kiyoomi begins to shiver from the cold even as sleep gradually stars to take him.

“Hold on, don’t fret,” Atsumu says as he gently nudges Kiyoomi off his shoulder, Kiyoomi grumbling unhappily as he’d been moments from drifting off to sleep. “It gets cold out here, yer better off with yer livin’ heater, ain’t ya?” He hears Atsumu strip out of his clothes and settle back beside Kiyoomi, his fingers hooking in the blindfold to lift it from his face. “Let me turn.”

Blinking his eyes open, it takes a few moments for Kiyoomi’s vision to adjust. It’s nightfall, long past the sunset, and only the moon’s reflection on the water’s surface and the small fire glowing before them offers any light. The sky above is blanketed with hundreds of tiny stars as far as the eye can see, though his attention is captured by the wolf which shifts on the ground so Kiyoomi won’t be lying on the dirt or foliage.

“You don’t have to, for me,” he states, gazing at Atsumu intently. In the beginning, it had been difficult to remember that there is a man inside of there, but Kiyoomi flattens his palm on the wolf’s chest and feels the way his heart races and he’s reminded that this is Atsumu.

It doesn’t bother me, turnin’ he hears Atsumu in his mind. Not so much.

Shifting, Kiyoomi sits up and looks at him, their faces almost brushing. “You don’t mean that, this curse took a lot from you.”

It brought ya to me, didn’t it?

Flushing scarlet, the familiar feeling like he ought to run away resurfaces, though he swallows it down and continues to stare at Atsumu with that same intensity. Unsure how to react, Kiyoomi reflects by reaching across him for his discarded robe, draping it over his form. “You’ll get cold…” He mumbles, refusing to close his eyes as he sleepily cuddles up to the wolf’s chest. “I won’t have you getting sick.”

I have you to look after me, don’t I? Kiyoomi isn’t sure if the comment is serious or teasing but he hasn’t got it in him to argue and buries his hands in the wolf’s fur for warmth instead. Go to sleep, I can see ya fightin’ to stay awake just to look at my handsome face.

He’s about to elbow Atsumu in the chest when he feels a cold, damp snout press against his forehead that makes him jump. Instinctively, he leans into it even though he knows he ought to be disgusted. The touch is grounding, in a bizarre kind of way. 

“Don’t let me sleep too late,” he mumbles as his head drops onto Atsumu’s chest, his nose burying into the fur to inhale the smell of pine and fresh grass. “Tomorrow I want to sew the hole in your kosode.”

Sure Omi, comes the voice purring in his ear. I’ll be with ya.

Atsumu shifts just as Kiyoomi is drifting off to sleep, the spare robes thrown over their bodies for warmth. Distantly, Kiyoomi thinks about how inappropriate they must look, but he hikes a leg over Atsumu’s hip and clings onto him like he might die if he were to ever let go.

The next morning he finds that Atsumu is not a man of his word.

Kiyoomi wakes a little before sunrise, shivering and cold with the robes tucked neatly over his body. There are no birds and the trees are silent and still. The fire is a small pile of ash and embers in front of him. As he blinks his eyes open, the sky still dark, he pats around for where Atsumu once lay and the ground is cold. Just over the treeline, a low howl can be heard and a pair of amber eyes stare back at him through the bushes as though watching over him. The thought puts Kiyoomi at ease, but only for a moment.

I’ll give ya all the time in the world – and yet, Atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

Chapter Text

chapter six.

“What are you doing here?” Kiyoomi questions the wolf as panic begins to settle in his bones. “Where is Atsumu? Did he leave?” 

Emerging from the undergrowth, the wolf approaches the camp cautiously, sniffing the earth until it reaches the ground where Atsumu’s kosode lies. He is without his clothes and Kiyoomi stiffens at the realisation. Atsumu would not have left him behind – and he especially wouldn’t have left without dressing. The wolf steps to Kiyoomi’s side, nuzzling his arm before making a low sound and looking at him intently.

“Show me where he is, follow the scent,” Kiyoomi tells him, adjusting and tightening his own kosode before standing on shaky legs to locate his shoes and quickly searching the ground for anything that could be used as a weapon. The small knife Atsumu used to gut the fish rests by the riverbank and Kiyoomi snatches it in his hand, tucking it into his sleeve to conceal it. “If he’s in danger, I’ll help.”

Leading the way past the river, the wolf guides Kiyoomi back into the woods – down the path they used to get to the clearing the previous morning. They move quickly, the sky now a pale grey as dawn approaches, and Kiyoomi jogs low, dipping as far as his knees allow – the feeling that they’re being watched doesn’t subside, though adrenaline keeps him moving forward.

The greenery is thick and the trees stand tall, blocking the view of the sky. When the wolf – now several feet ahead, pauses to growl before skidding over mud and leaves, Kiyoomi grips the knife tighter, holding it out weakly in front of him as he breaks into a run to keep up with the wolf. Around them, the forest seems to liven and Kiyoomi knows such things cannot be possible, the tree branches seem to part, the wind howling and snapping them in the direction leading to Atsumu. Blood rushes in his ears and when they reach a fork in the road, the wolf darts down the opposite path that leads away from the cabin and—

towards the villages and farmland.

stupidstupidstupid he thinks, calves beginning to burn from how fast he runs, we should have left weeks ago! They shouldn’t have dawdled, trapped in their own little bubble as though there were no external threats. The witch and the beast who brought the famine. 

With his mind beginning to race with each horrific possibility, Kiyoomi can’t stop himself from spiralling. His vision tunnels and then as he sprints after the wolf his bad ankle catches on an exposed vine and he collapses to the ground with a pained sound. Reflexes snapping into action, Kiyoomi just manages to shield his face from hitting a rock and his forearm smashes onto the sharp stone, slicing his forearm. Pain shoots up his ankle though he grits his teeth through it, scrambling around on the ground for his dropped knife. He jumps to his feet, determination driving him onwards even as he runs with a slight limp and leaves a trail of blood behind. 

The wolf waits for him, but only until Kiyoomi is on his feet and attempting a run again, and then it dashes forward – this time, veering off the main road down an overgrown path that Kiyoomi prays will lead them close to Atsumu. His lungs burn and pain ebbs and flows. They cross an old wooden bridge over a river, and soon they’re at the top of a small hill, where rice fields run as far as Kiyoomi can see. He recognises the land, vaguely, and realises they aren’t far from the village. Bending down, he hastily rips a piece off his kosode and hurriedly ties it around his injured leg as the wolf wastes no time in dashing down the hill before heading to a lining of trees. Reminding himself that pain is nothing, Kiyoomi quickly follows, skidding down the hill until gravity pushes him onward and he flies to the bottom, desperately ignoring the pain in his ankle.

It’s only when they’re through the next gathering of trees, does Kiyoomi see the smoke rising into the air. The wolf’s head snaps in its direction and then he’s gone – flying through the trees and leaving Kiyoomi behind. As Kiyoomi starts to follow, he comes to a sudden stop.

There’s fresh dark blood on the ground, smeared in a way that makes Kiyoomi think someone crawled through the bushes.

He follows nervously, no longer running and with the knife held in front of him defensively. The smell of it is so strong it reminds him of the plague in the village and how he would smell death each time he left their family home as bodies were carted off in wagons to be burnt by the dozens. Even his own home smelled of death and the ashy smell was near impossible to rid from his skin and clothes. Fear does not win this time, and Kiyoomi dives headfirst in, thinking of his sister and how he had not been able to save her.

Smoke thickens in the air the further he ventures, until he realises an old agricultural structure is ablaze. Covering his face with his sleeve, he ducks down and hurries past the burning building, sending a silent apology to the forest as he notices how the trees overhang and the animals flee. So distracted by the smoke and flames, he almost missed the shouts and yells ahead, and by the time he does register them, he’s already past the fire and at the edge of the clearing by a farmhouse where he skids to a stop and drops the knife in his fright.

Bodies line the ground around where Atsumu – the wolf, stands broad. Kiyoomi can see gashes lining Atsumu’s back from swords or daggers and an arrow juts painfully out of his shoulder. It’s the farmers from before, Kiyoomi abruptly realises. There is a pen of frightened goats by the farmhouse that rattles with their fear as they fight and injure themselves in their panic. The bodies surrounding them are near unrecognisable, caked in blood with bones protruding from skin and guts spilling still hot onto the earth. Atsumu has a broken chain around his leg, digging into his flesh, and he raises the final farmer into the air with one powerful arm as he had done Kiyoomi on his first night, though instead of using his powers to talk to him, he snarls and snaps his fangs, howling in anger. The farmer says a prayer and everything seems to move in slow-motion as he raises his bow in the air to fire one last arrow.

“We said we would find you, we said we would end the plague and rid us of the witch and the rest of that family. There are no gods – they all left. Only you, and the witch who angered the gods with debauchery and sin, laying with their own flesh and blood!”

There’s a crunch of bone and his voice morphs into a scream as Atsumu crushes the bones in one of his legs, raising a clawed hand in the air to strike the killing blow when Kiyoomi drops to his knees and shouts his name in anguish.

Quivering, the man’s mouth is dropped in a silent scream and Atsumu drops him to a heap in the ground, freezing, and not turning to face Kiyoomi even as he speaks.

Kiyoomi, I— 

what are you doing here? Why didja follow?

“I’m here for you,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, still on his knees as though he were about to begin a prayer. “Atsumu,” his voice is soft and steady, almost too quiet to be heard. “You were gone, I knew something happened.”

The wolf’s body tenses, posture stiff as his chest rises and falls in uneven breaths. His figure is somehow larger and seemingly more menacing than the one Kiyoomi remembers, monstrous almost like their first night at the cabin, his back taut like a predator ready to attack.

Kiyoomi’s breath catches in his throat as the tension in his chest builds. Shoulders trembling, Atsumu’s hands curl into fists, ignoring the way his claws dig painfully into his palm. 

“Atsumu.” Lifting himself to his feet, Kiyoomi hobbles forward, driven by something dark he cannot explain. He doesn’t speak, nor turn to face him. He sees the moment the wolf lifts an arm as though about to hit the farmer as he sits in a crumpled heap and Kiyoomi swallows, his steps never faltering. “Leave him, we are both okay, he is in no position to call for others.”

At first Atsumu ignores his plea, his arm raised and his claws shining in the morning light. He freezes midair, mind battling a giant that he almost loses to. Kiyoomi takes another step, the gash on his calf throbbing as blood soaks through the scrap of his robe. Atsumu sniffs the air, his head cocked as he inhales the smell of Kiyoomi’s blood, mixed with fear. The wolf takes a few measured breaths, listening to Kiyoomi’s pants as he fights for breath. Atsumu refuses to look at him, but his shoulders sag and he lowers his arm, unclenching both fists, not reacting even as blood drips down the length of his long fingers. 

“Let me help you, you’re hurt,” Kiyoomi asks, taking another small step. “You’re bleeding.”

I could kill ya, Omi, is all Atsumu responds with. Ya should have run away and left me weeks ago.

“We are both going to Kyoto, aren’t we?” Kiyoomi says softly as he approaches Atsumu, his arm reaching out to touch Atsumu’s strong bicep. The wolf jerks, reflexively lifting as though ready to bat Kiyoomi to the side but he stops himself, turning slowly to meet Kiyoomi’s eye. “You have Osamu to get to, and I have my cousin in the city. You won’t hurt me, not when we have so much to do.”

I didn’t want ya to see this. Atsumu says as he faces him, rage finally subsiding. I couldn’t have ya bein’ afraid of me, but they came to the river fer us. I was goin’ to come back, until I fuckin’ lost it and killed them.

“I know,” Kiyoomi says truthfully, hand still firmly gripping Atsumu’s arm and golden brown eyes lock onto his own dark ones. “We do things to survive and to protect each other.I think...We need to go, the fire will be spreading and the surviving villagers will come to see what caused it. We shouldn’t be seen here.”

Atsumu’s breath hitches, and for a moment, Kiyoomi wonders if he’s made a mistake—if his words have pushed Atsumu even further away. But instead, something shifts. Slowly, Atsumu’s tense muscles loosen and the fierce look in his eyes softens. He looks around them at the bodies and the bloodstained ground, as though seeing it for the first time.

“It’s the curse,” Kiyoomi tries, gripping his sleeve before ripping another long strip from it to stop Atsumu’s bleeding. “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t. It’s us or them out here.”

Omi…

Atsumu lets him hastily patch the worst of his wounds to stop the bleeding and he grits his teeth when Kiyoomi pulls out the arrow. Atsumu stands almost uselessly, vulnerable in a way that Kiyoomi has never seen him before, a guilt that he has never seen on someone. Something inside him cracks and after tossing the last of his makeshift bandages towards the farmer – who has crawled to the farmhouse to hide, he stands before Atsumu and wraps both arms tightly around his middle to envelop him in a hug.

When he closes his eyes, Atsumu morphs to his humanself with a sigh and Kiyoomi’s face falls to his bare shoulder, his arms around his back in a hug.

“I shouldn’t have fuckin’ killed them,” Atsumu starts, stiff until he breathes in the side of Kiyoomi’s face and threads his hands in his hair, tightening. “Like this all my emotions are just…heightened. I couldn’t have them hurt ya, but I couldn’t let ya see me do all this.”

“It’s us or them,” Kiyoomi tells him sincerely. “I would have done the same for you.” The fire rages, spreading towards the village with no sign of slowing down and Kiyoomi can see the distant smoke billowing into the air. “We have to leave before they come.”

“I suppose the forest chose Kyoto fer us,” Atsumu says with a weak chuckle. “There’s a horse stabled here we can take.”

With a nod, they reluctantly peel away from one another as Atsumu goes to calm the frightened mare. Kiyoomi charges across the yard, pausing by the goat pen and breaking the lock on it to give them a chance to flee the fire, before entering the farmhouse for loot. Clothes hang by a kamado and he snatches a threadbare kosode before running out to where Atsumu has led the frightened horse to the middle of the clearing. 

“Thank ya,” Atsumu says quietly, too wired to look properly at Kiyoomi as he dresses and watches the fire spread. Eyes to the floor, Kiyoomi is soon lifted to the horse's rump and he wraps both arms around Atsumu’s middle, his eyes shut tight. “Yer injured.”

“It’s nothing, I tripped,” Kiyoomi assures him, his fingers finding Atsumu’s skin inside the loosely tied Kosode as though needing to ground himself with the skin-on-skin. “Let’s go home.” He buries his nose against Atsumu’s neck to distract from the smell of burning wood and death as Atsumu nudges the mare into a canter to return to the cabin.

Neither speak, with Atsumu guiding the horse through backroads and across fields of grass to avoid any villagers hunting for them. When they see the massacre at the farm, Kiyoomi doesn’t doubt for a moment that they will come looking for them and he prays they have time to prepare for Kyoto. To his surprise, it’s oddly quiet, even as they veer into the trees to avoid nearby settlements. He had expected horns to be blaring and the sounds of dogs and hoofbeats as they were chased down by the villagers but there is nothing but stillness, the fire long in the distance by the time they reach familiar territory and near the cabin, the lone wolf running through the trees nearby as though protecting them.

The air between them is heavy with the weight of what happened at the farm and there’s a foreign, charged energy in the air. Uneasiness has settled in Atsumu’s bones, and although Kiyoomi keeps his eyes shut, he can sense the man glancing back at him periodically as though expecting Kiyoomi to throw himself from the horse at any moment to make a run for it into the trees.

It doesn’t take them long to reach Atsumu’s land and Kiyoomi lets himself be lowered to the ground, the way Atsumu winces as though in pain not going amiss. The sun has already risen by this point, and Kiyoomi lets Atsumu lead him towards the locked cabin, where they enter quietly, the air around them electric. They wipe the blood from one another, and Kiyoomi strips out of his dirty kosode into a yellow patterned robe, tying it loosely around his waist, not bothering with anything underneath. Atsumu is fussing with washing his hands in the wooden basin when Kiyoomi clicks his tongue in annoyance and stands abruptly. 

“You’re injured. Sit down,” he demands as he watches Atsumu fuss around the cabin. “I didn’t clean your wounds earlier.”

“It’s nothin’,” Atsumu tells him, “just an arrow. It’ll all heal.”

“I saw the blood, stop overexerting yourself and sit down.”

Kiyoomi must have sounded more frightening than he intended, for Atsumu stops what he’s doing and reluctantly pads over to him with a grumble that Kiyoomi doesn’t quite catch. 

“Take off your kosode.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Kiyoomi regrets them.

“If ya wanted me to take my clothes off again, ya should have said.” He takes mercy on Atsumu and doesn’t hit him, even though he considers it.

“Sit down and let me clean your back.”

“Some weird kinda foreplay ya got goin’ on darlin’,” Atsumu comments, sounding almost nervous as he strips out of his robe and wraps the cloth around his lower half to cover his modesty. Sitting by the chabudai, he fidgets as Kiyoomi fetches a pail of water and a clean cloth.

“Please stop talking,” he responds, agonised, as he closes his eyes and cleans up Atsumu’s back as best as he can, his fingers running gently up and down his spine, feeling the softness of his skin and the firmness of his muscles from years of outside work.

Atsumu winces, shuffling uncomfortably when Kiyoomi runs the wet cloth over the arrow wound on his shoulder blade. “Yer good at this,” he says seriously. “Takin’ care of people.”

Kiyoomi’s first reaction is to snort in disbelief as he doesn’t think anyone has ever said that to him and meant it before. “I’m terrible at comforting people.”

“Well, I’m feelin’ very comforted right now–” when Kiyoomi brushes against one of his knife wounds a little too hard, he winces. “ Sorta.”

“If I don’t do this, no doubt you’d let it get infected,” Kiyoomi tsks, “you need to take care of yourself. I dislike when people neglect their health, most of all you.”

“Most of all me?” Atsumu asks with an amused tone that makes Kiyoomi instantly regret the words. “Is that because you like me?” 

Kiyoomi wants to retort but the words make him feel warm inside. He hadn’t ever considered himself to be all that nurturing, but taking care of someone doesn’t feel all that bad, even if the prospect of doing so is unfamiliar and scary. Embarrassed at his feelings, he grumbles a response under his breath before setting to work on preparing the bandages, which Atsumu assists with.

Silence settles between them as they work to bandage the worst of Atsumu’s wounds, and Kiyoomi knows he’s strong and acts like it’s nothing, but he senses the way Atsumu moves a little more cautiously.

“It’s yer turn to sit down.” He hears Atsumu command, so close it makes him jump. “I know yer legs hurtin’ ya, it looks nasty.”

There’s a moment where Kiyoomi wants to tell him he can do it himself, but he pauses, and leans back on one of the cushions with his leg extended, feeling foolish.

“It’s the one ya twisted the other day,” Atsumu comments as opens up Kiyoomi’s kosode – ensuring he’s still covered around the waist, and runs a clean, wet rag over Kiyoomi’s calf to scrub away the dried blood. “Now look who ain’t careful.”

Opening his mouth to argue back, Kiyoomi finds that words escape him, when the cloth rubs up his leg to his knee to wipe away the blood, then further up to the insides of his thighs.

“Atsumu…”

Feeling his face heat, Kiyoomi ducks his head to hide, his breaths quickening and his hands balling into fists at his sides as the cloth glides delicately over his skin, setting him alight.

“Yer sensitive, aren’t ya?” He hears Atsumu mutter in a husky voice. Something stretches between them, that same tension from when they entered the cabin high on adrenaline. “I’m startin’ to want to kiss ya again, and by yer reaction ya want that too.”

Clenching his thighs, Kiyoomi fights the urge to tuck them away and instead extends one long, pale naked leg in the air and rests it on Atsumu’s shoulder, giving him a view of what little he wears underneath.

“You may…” Coughing, Kiyoomi swallows down the awkward nerves. “Continue where you left off yesterday.”

“I won’t do anythin’ to hurt ya,” Atsumu murmurs as he takes Kiyoomi’s ankle, dropping a lingering kiss to the bone. “Though, I’d be happy just kissin’ ya all night. I don’t want to do anythin’ you’ll regret later. But I do want ya.” He nips at Kiyoomi’s skin, tongue apologetically licking along his lower leg in a way that has Kiyoomi gasping for breath.

“I won’t regret it,” Kiyoomi promises, “I…think of you. In more ways than you know.”

“You’ll kill me if ya keep talkin’ like that,” Atsumu practically groans with his lips still attached to Kiyoomi’s calf. “Yer skin smells so nice.”

Biting down on his lip, Kiyoomi stifles a quiet whimper when Atsumu kisses up to his knee, feeling his cotton underwear grow wet with slick. Two hands land on his thighs and he’s pulled down the cushion closer to Atsumu, his breath hitching in surprise.

“Can I carry ya onto the futon?”

There’s a single moment where Kiyoomi hesitates. Kiyoomi tries not to think about him but it’s hard when the blindfold shrouds him in darkness, much like in his recurring dreams. The silence stretches and Atsumu senses his apprehension, backing away until his touch disappears. 

“It’s alright, Omi, ignore me– we can just–”

“No,” Kiyoomi cuts in, not allowing him to win. “Carry me.”

A nude Atsumu lifts him in the air, and Kiyoomi wraps his two long legs around the man’s waist, his hands running over the smoothness of Atsumu’s skin and the slightly raised scars on his chest. He clings onto him, hands wrapping around Atsumu’s neck to scratch his undercut. Atsumu kisses his chest, gently dropping Kiyoomi onto his futon in the room.

“I won’t hurt ya,” Atsumu murmurs as he nuzzles Kiyoomi’s neck with his nose and inhaling the scent of his creamy skin. “I’ll stop if it’s too much.”

“I appreciate your carefulness but–” Grabbing Atsumu’s hair in his hands, he tugs his face up to him, tilting Atsumu’s head back almost painfully. “I want you. You can touch me. We’re married aren’t we? Treat me like it.”

“Ya don’t hafta ask me twice, baby.” When Kiyoomi loosens his hands, Atsumu mouths down his face, kissing his head and cheeks, before languidly kissing Kiyoomi on the lips.

His hands massage Kiyoomi’s hips over the yellow robe, and when Kiyoomi whimpers, he feels Atsumu smirk against his lips. The kiss deepens until they’re panting into each other's mouths, a line of spit connecting them when Atsumu pulls back for air, his hands inching up Kiyoomi’s robes to his chest. Needing to feel him, Kiyoomi pans his fingers over Atsumu’s stomach, his breath hitching when Atsumu kisses down his neck, stopping at his collar where he slowly begins to ease the robe open.

He guides the garment down Kiyoomi’s shoulders until it opens at the chest and Kiyoomi’s small breasts are exposed to the cool air in the cabin, his nipples hardening and gooseflesh prickling the skin around them. He starts to breathe quicker as he grows nervous, his fingers curling into his fists on the futon.

“S’okay,” Atsumu soothes, kissing his collarbone. “I’ll talk ya through it. Ya taste so good, wish ya could see yerself right now.” 

Hearing Atsumu’s voice allows him to relax a fraction, and the man talks to him between kisses across his chest, until Atsumu mouths across one breast, kneading the other in his hand. He swipes his tongue across a nipple and Kiyoomi jumps, whimpering slightly. Kiyoomi feels Atsumu’s cool breath on him as he blows on the areola.

“Enough teasing,” he tries to scold, his mouth dropping as Atsumu places his lips over he nipple and sucks on it, his tongue lapping around the swollen bud.

With a hum, Atsumu sets to work on licking, sucking and biting Kiyoomi’s tits, his cock straining against his robes. Kiyoomi gets lost in it, moaning out loud at the wet feel of Atsumu’s tongue on him. When the man on top of him shifts, something hard brushes Kiyoomi’s leg and he squirms, pressing his thighs together as more wetness seeps between his legs. Instead of fear and dread – as he’d felt before, he only feels excited, knowing that it is Atsumu.

Atsumu enjoys him a while longer and Kiyoomi loses track of time, only aware of the hands massaging his body and the tongue with laps lower. It moves past his tits – once both are sensitive and kiss-bitten, down to his flat stomach and his hips. When Atsumu nips the skin there, Kiyoomi jumps again, his legs beginning to shake. 

“Mind if I unwrap ya the rest of the way?” He hears Atsumu say in a low voice, his breath hot on Kiyoomi’s lower tummy. 

“Yes— please, you’re taking so long.”

“Can’t blame a guy fer enjoyin’ himself,” smirks Atsumu. He’s about to unwrap the robe the rest of the way, to leave Kiyoomi almost bare in his undergarments, until Kiyoomi gets a strange, sudden thought.

He scoots upright, sitting up on the futon, and looks in the direction of Atsumu. “I don’t want this if I can’t see you.”

“I know, darlin’, yer stuck usin’ yer imagination – much as I’d love to see yer reaction to my handsome face.”

“No,” Kiyoomi tells him with a firm shake of his head. “I’ll see you, no matter the form you’re in.”

“Kiyoomi, no—” With a panicked shout, Atsumu lunges forward right when Kiyoomi lifts a hand to remove his blindfold and he captures his wrist in a strong hand, halting him. “What the hell are ya doin’?”

“I want to look at you,” Kiyoomi tells him defiantly. “I don’t care if it’s the wolf.”

“That’s dangerous, just let me, I’ll treat ya so good you don’t need to.”

Kiyoomi yanks at his arm, though Atsumu doesn’t let go. “I want it. I want you.”

“Ya don’t have to prove anythin’, I know I’m better like this.”

Kiyoomi scrunches his face in displeasure. “You aren’t better in any way. I want to look at you when you fuck me, because it’s you. If we’re together, we see each other.” Atsumu doesn’t respond, though Kiyoomi feels his grip tighten. “If it hurts, or I hate it, I’ll tell you. When have I ever not told you when I don’t want to do something?”

“I know but—”

“You have good control, you won’t hurt me, even by accident.” He exhales. “I trust you…I’m not— I’ve done this before, I’m not pure like they said. But this time I want to be in control of what happens to my body. It’s not being taken from me, I’m handing it over to you. And I want to watch you as you take it.”

Atsumu’s exhale is heavy, but bit by bit he relaxes his hold on Kiyoomi and when he drops his hand to his side, Kiyoomi doesn’t immediately remove the blindfold. Instead he leans forward, kissing the corner of Atsumu’s mouth in a way that is reassuring. His hands dance down Atsumu’s body, until they firmly grasp around his cock. He feels Atsumu shudder around him, and Kiyoomi starts to work his hand over it, pumping it slowly. It’s uncoordinated to start but soon he finds a steady rhythm and he swallows Atsumu’s soft pleasured sighs with a kiss.

Then, when Atsumu’s cock is in his hands and the head is rubbing against his wet folds, Kiyoomi removes the blindfold.

When he opens his eyes, he’s face to face with the wolf, and he feels the cock expand and pulse, groaning as the tip pushes against his pubic bone.

“Let me look upon you,” Kiyoomi says, maintaining eye contact with Atsumu as he strokes a hand through the wolf’s fur around its face. Atsumu’s cock twitches against him and Kiyoomi glances down, marvelling at the way it’s still human, yet thicker and veinier.

I ain’t goin’ to be offended if ya back out, he hears Atsumu say in his mind. Snapping out of his trance, Kiyoomi looks back up at him and continues stroking his hands through his soft fur. Not to be egotistical but I ain’t exactly small.

“You underestimate how well I can take it,” hums Kiyoomi, settling back down on the futon, leant on his elbows with his legs slightly spread. 

He is pink-cheeked, the sleeves of his robe falling to his elbows with only the bottom flaps covering his crotch. Shyly spreading his legs, Kiyoomi hooks his fingers in the top of his underwear and tugs them down his thighs, over his knees and ankles, before throwing them to the side. Atsumu’s nose flares, mouth opening slightly as he tastes the slick in the air.

Slowly, as though he were cornering his prey, he advances towards Kiyoomi, placing two clawed hands on his thighs to spread him properly. Leaning in, a cold wet nose sniffs across his skin and Kiyoomi’s body tingles, his stomach flipping in anticipation. Suddenly, a long, wet tongue licks a stripe up the inside of his thigh and he gasps loudly. It stops near the seam where his cunt lies and he begins to shiver uncontrollably. 

Yer so gorgeous, I can’t believe it, doin’ so well fer me, Atsumu begins to praise, his cold nose pressing between Kiyoomi’s wet folds and sniffing, the sensation causing Kiyoomi to clench, his cunt slicking over the wolf’s face. Mouth opening, Atsumu licks delicately at Kiyoomi’s cunt and Kiyoomi sees a flash of sharp, dangerous fangs. You smell amazin’ down here, look it too.

Getting eaten out by the wolf is an experience he’ll likely not forget, as Atsumu begins ravishing him with long licks up and down his cunt whilst one hand pulling on his hood to expose his clit. The tongue is slightly rough though it only adds to the sensation and soon Kiyoomi is squirming and moaning without a care for how loud he is being. Between licks Atsumu is grumbling and growling possessively, his nose drenched in slick when he pulls back to nip the sensitive skin on Kiyoomi’s inner thighs. Arching his back off the cushion, Kiyoomi feels a clawed hand creep around to grope his ass, spreading his cheeks wide so Atsumu can lick from his cunt down to his ass and around his rim. The unexpected sensation makes Kiyoomi jump and he almost pulls away, whimpering and complaining quietly.

Mine, he hears Atsumu grumble, stay still. It feels good. Reckon I could do this all night long if ya let me.

When Atsumu makes him come for the first time, Kiyoomi swears he blacks out from the onslaught of sensations as Atsumu rims him, one finger rubbing his clit in tune with the sloppy licks to his hole. It leaves him a trembling mess on the futon, his eyes never leaving Atsumu as he watches the wolf ravage him. Atsumu’s cock is leaking on the floor and he strokes himself a few times, barely giving Kiyoomi a moment to catch his breath before he’s covering him with his body, licking up his tummy to his tits again and feasting on them before moving up to nuzzle at Kiyoomi’s neck.

Haven’t had enough yet, have ya? 

Kiyoomi ought to be disgusted by the way he’s covered in saliva and Atsumu’s cock is humping between his thighs almost desperately as he noses and inhale’s Kiyoomi’s sweet scent, but he’s too blissed out to care, staring into Atsumu’s dark golden eyes with determination.

“No, you’ve not even started,” Kiyoomi says, hooking both arms around Atsumu’s head, his hands fisting in the thick dark fur. “I can take it, you can put it in.”

With a low growl, Atsumu lines himself up, nibbling at Kiyoomi’s sensitive neck as he rubs his cock against Kiyoomi’s clit, causing Kiyoomi to flinch and tighten his hands in Atsumu’s fur. Barely touched ya yet, Atsumu says with a huff of amusement, sounding so real he’s almost saying it aloud instead of projected into Kiyoomi’s mind. Can’t believe how sensitive ya are. I’ll go slow, yer in control remember.

For now, Kiyoomi thinks, a sick thrill thrumming through him at the thought of the wolf losing control and taking him hard and rough. He nods, and then the head of Atsumu’s cock pushes inside his cunt, easing in slowly. At first Kiyoomi tenses, squeezing him out, until Atsumu hushes and laps at his neck apologetically to ease Kiyoomi into relaxing. 

“Do it, I can take the rest.”

Not needing to be asked twice, Atsumu pushes in the rest of the way, pausing to look down at Kiyoomi when he sucks in a sharp breath at the stretch. Kiyoomi curses, wrapping both legs around Atsumu’s back to trap him in place. He holds him tightly, desperate not to let go. As Atsumu starts to move, Kiyoomi endures the stretch, the pain unexpectedly satisfying as Atsumu shallowly thrusts in and out of him. He snaps his fangs, huffing and growling with pleasure in tune with Kiyoomi’s moans, his brow pinched as he struggles to keep his eyes open and on the wolf.

Soon the pain is replaced with white-hot pleasure as Atsumu’s cock rubs against a sweet spot inside that has Kiyoomi clenching down on him, his gasping moans vibrating in Atsumu’s ears. 

Yer doin’ so well fer me, Omi, Atsumu softly praises, good boy. It’s takin’ everythin’ in me not to lose control, you have no idea.

With slightly teary eyes and blurred vision, Kiyoomi arches into Atsumu’s body, hands roaming all over his fur, tugging on it and hugging him tightly. “Please,” he pathetically whimpers, voice filled with emotion. “I want it, I want more. You don’t need to hold back, I trust you Atsumu. You couldn’t hurt me.”

Fangs graze the side of Kiyoomi’s neck and he moans, Atsumu’s thrust picking up in speed as he fucks him more erratically. Careful, baby, ya don’t know what yer askin’ fer.

Ya don’t have to prove anythin’ to me.

“I want it,” Kiyoomi tells him, drunk on desperation. “I need it.”

The determination in his gaze must spark something in Atsumu as he doesn’t hesitate again. Pinning Kiyoomi to the floor, he rakes his claws down his body, leaving faint streaks of red that almost break the skin. He folds Kiyoomi in half, his legs in the air, so he can hit deep. Atsumu pounds him until Kiyoomi is choking on air, his mind floating as the sensations overwhelm him. Everything around them vanishes to nothingness in an instant as the only thing that matters is the cock burying deep into his cunt, so large it bulges in his belly and the tip pushes his cervix. The ache is numb and distant, his insides screaming for more. Atsumu is near animalistic with his rough treatment, non-verbal as he grunts and growls and bites down Kiyoomi’s neck to his collarbone. One hand plays with his tits, pinching and slapping until they’re sore. 

Kiyoomi feels himself drift further, only vaguely aware of his pants and moans and the way he desperately grabs for Atsumu. His legs are flipped down and spread and he’s tossed across the floor, before Atsumu is snapping his teeth and forcing his bulging cock back into him, his hands and snout running all over Kiyoomi’s body to drench him in his scent. Something warm and wet floods Kiyoomi’s insides as he’s ragdolled about, though he hardly notices as he comes twice, and then a third time, impaled on Atsumu’s cock. He’s lifted in the air, carried across the room with the cock still inside him, and dropped onto the chabudai where he’s fucked across it, his entire body shuddering with overstimulation. 

Fuck, he hears Atsumu grunt. I could go all night, I’m close already.

Kiyoomi’s cunt flutters. Through the haze of his orgasms, the thought of them seeing the sunrise like this sends a bolt of electricity up his spine and he pushes himself upright to wrap his arms around Atsumu’s chest. Atsumu’s shallow thrusts are like a drug to him, and he mumbles something incoherent against his fur, before being lifted again and placed back on the futon. It’s so much that when Atsumu slides his cock back in, his eyes flutter closed. Kiyoomi doesn’t mean to, but Atsumu shifts and immediately begins kissing his face and neck as he fucks him slow.

“I got ya, we can stay like this,” Atsumu murmurs against his lips as he kisses him again. “Yer quiverin’ like a leaf.”

Feeling Atsumu’s skin against his own is a comfort, and Kiyoomi finds himself savouring every moment as Atsumu’s thrusts turn slow and unexpectedly caring, his kisses and touches soft and filled with longing. 

“Yer so gorgeous, y’know that, I can’t believe yer all mine,” Atsumu says with a shaky laugh, kissing Kiyoomi languidly. “I mean when I say I could fuck ya all night, even just like this.”

Whining, Kiyoomi chases his lips, missing and catching his cheek until he grabs Atsumu’s head and twists him forward, mashing their lips together with a satisfied moan that has Atsumu chuckling. “I didn’t think it would feel like this,” he whispers, the words for Atsumu’s ears only. “You…I didn’t expect to fall so hard or fast. But I want you in every way.” Any shame flies out of the window as he kisses Atsumu, panting into his mouth between thrusts. “I don’t care if it’s the wolf or you, I take both. I’ll live out in the woods near Kyoto, we can make it a home.”

“Fuck, baby,” groans Atsumu, kissing him back. “It ain’t very manly of someone to cry durin’ sex is it?”

“You idiot,” Kiyoomi chastises, running his hands through Atsumu’s hair lovingly. “I mean every word. I don’t know why I had to say it, but I mean it.”

“It’s the sex brain talkin’, baby, makes ya say all sorts.”

Kiyoomi sighs in frustration, biting Atsumu on the neck until he yelps and laughs. “I don’t care what you’ve done or what you really look like. I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel so strongly for someone, but I do.”

“Okay, okay,” Atsumu huffs happily, still fucking Kiyoomi soft and slow. “I knew my charm would get to ya eventually.” He nips Kiyoomi playfully, his hands groping his breasts. “I feel the same way, fuck, I was goin’ to wait ‘til Kyoto but I can’t.”

“If you need, I’ll prove it to you,” Kiyoomi promises. Atsumu isn’t insecure in the slightest, but Kiyoomi has sensed his uncertainty over the last couple of weeks as their bond deepened, unsure if Kiyoomi would flee to his cousin’s once he was free from the village and his forced betrothal. Something in him needs Atsumu to know his feelings are returned and they aren’t only together by circumstance, but by fate. 

Blinking his eyes open, Kiyoomi is face to face with a man, not a wolf. Atsumu’s eyes are the same as the wolf’s and he gazes back at Kiyoomi with a fondness Kiyoomi couldn’t have predicted. Seconds pass, and his thrusts slow to a stop as realisation dawns on the two of them.

They're still for several seconds as they realise Atsumu hasn't shifted. Kiyoomi doesn't breathe, his hand reaching out to touch Atsumu's cheek as though expecting him to disappear in a puff of smoke. He's real and solid beneath his fingertips, his pulse quickening. 

“...Omi?”

Grabbing him by the cheeks, Kiyoomi throws himself upright and kisses Atsumu deeply. They tumble across the futon and Atsumu’s back hits the floor, Kiyoomi’s eyes wide open as he takes in the man before him, from his dark slightly mussed hair, tanned skin, and cheeks ruddy from exertion. He can't help but touch his face, running his fingers through his hair and across his jaw, in awe at what he sees.

“The curse,” Kiyoomi breathes, pulling back to look at Atsumu again, observing each of his features as though trying to solve a very intricate puzzle. “You aren’t switching back. You’re… You.”

“I know…I don’t— I don’t know what’s happenin’, or why I'm not turnin' back."

For a long moment Atsumu is shell-shocked, still and staring back up at Kiyoomi like he’s in the midst of a dream. It’s Kiyoomi who moves first, kissing him again, until Atsumu snaps out of it and lifts Kiyoomi into his arms, standing and kissing him. Kiyoomi’s legs wrap around his back and he’s walked across the cabin, his back banging against the wall. There’s a crash as some baskets and clay pots fall to the floor and smash but neither notice as they lose themselves in one another.

“This isn’t a dream, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi breathes against him, unable to help himself from kissing him again like stopping might kill him. “I think we broke it. I had to look at you, let you inside me as the wolf."

With a laugh, Atsumu pushes his cock back in, gripping Kiyoomi by the thighs as he fucks Kiyoomi against the wall, watching as his cock disappears in and out of Kiyoomi's slick pussy. They whisper sweet nothings and voice their dirty thoughts into each others ears. They kiss slow, panting into each others mouths as Atsumu's thrusts quicken, bringing them both close to orgasm. Kiyoomi rubs his clit, his legs squeezing around Atsumu's back as he moans and clenches his thighs tight. It doesn’t take Kiyoomi long to come, hardly noticing Atsumu hasn’t pulled out as he pumps Kiyoomi with his spend and the two of them rut against the wall, their lips connected and Kiyoomi’s eyes freakishly wide open - too afraid to blink and have Atsumu turn again. 

Fucking him through his intense orgasm, Atsumu pants heavily against Kiyoomi, his eyes glassy once he pulls back to look at him once more. Kiyoomi's hands pull tight around Atsumu's neck as he comes down from his orgasm, feeling the way Atsumu's cock beginning to soften inside of him, his cum dripping out of him messily.

“...What the hell happened?” Atsumu asks, letting his forehead press against Kiyoomi’s as they both fight to catch their breath, his cock slipping out with a wet sound. Kiyoomi’s legs tighten around his waist, making no move to let Atsumu release him.

“I don’t really know,” Kiyoomi admits, his brain still filled with static. “It may have been me accepting you.”

“Fuckin’ cliche,” Atsumu jokes, huffing out a breath. “I’ll take it, I’m me again. I like the way ya look at me. Like I’m stupid handsome.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Kiyoomi shyly admits, “I don’t even want to blink.”

“God, I think I could love ya,” Atsumu hugs him tightly, squeezing him before carrying Kiyoomi back across the room, throwing the two of them down on his futon before surrounding Kiyoomi in his scent, their legs tangling together. “You can’t deny it, yer not allowed after all that.”

“I’m not,” Kiyoomi says intently, rolling over to meet Atsumu’s steady gaze. “I liked you before, and I like you now. It has never mattered to me what form you were in."

They lie in silence for a long while after that, with Kiyoomi staring at him unblinkingly, no longer caring how weirdly clingy he is. Atsumu just feels right, even after everything Kiyoomi has been through and how he thought the ability to love or be intimate with someone was taken from him as a teenager by someone made to protect him. After everything, he’s in the place he’s meant to be with what feels like the person he’s meant to be with. The witch and the forest around them seem to believe so, if he was able to save Atsumu. Kiyoomi has never felt so sure in his life, all uncertainty ebbing away from him.

The weight of the last twenty-four hours weighs heavy on Atsumu and he sleeps soundly, even as Kiyoomi lies facing him on the futon, unable to stop himself from staring at his tanned, handsome face for what feels like hours – until night begins to turn to day. He thinks he dozes, but the memories of their time together wakes him and he finds himself reaching out for Atsumu, watching him as he sleeps soundly as though the lifting of the curse zapped all energy from him.

Not wishing to wake him yet, Kiyoomi quietly dresses in one of Atsumu’s robes and lights a flame on the kamado to make tea. Outside, he stands on the porch and watches as the sun begins to creep up on the horizon, splattering light through the gaps in the trees at the edge of the property. It’s silent and peaceful as ever, as though yesterday had been a distant dream. Inside, he hears Atsumu stir, pots clinking and clanging as he finishes the tea. It isn’t long before Kiyoomi hears his shoes pad towards the door where he joins Kiyoomi wordlessly, dropping the tea mugs to the ground beside them before wrapping both arms around Kiyoomi’s waist. When he breathes in his hair, swaying them gently side to side and dropping a kiss to Kiyoomi’s head, Kiyoomi sighs happily, linking their hands together.

“Do you think they’re gone?” He asks, his voice a little shaky. “Nobody came, and the fires must have stopped in the night.”

“Could be safe now,” Atsumu murmurs against his hair. “Do you want to go back?”

Kiyoomi considers the question for a moment, feeling no ties to his old home. “I want to see for myself,” he decides, voice barely a whisper. “I won’t rest until I know what has become of him. He needs to get what he deserves.”

“And if he’s alive?”

Turning, Kiyoomi meets Atsumu’s steady gaze. “The farms are gone, the village may have gone with it. If he is, there is nothing left, and he won’t be for long.” He sighs deeply. “You never brought the plague and famine, and I was never the one to stop it as they prophesied. I think he angered them with what he did, and the price was paid.”

“Do ya feel bad?”

He shrugs, “I’m not sure how I feel. They’re the people I grew up with. But I don’t think that necessarily means anything. It may…Affect me later.”

“It’s alright if ya have regrets, ya don’t hafta feel happy considerin’ what they did.” Atsumu nuzzles against him. “If ya regret it later, that’s okay too.”

“I think…I want to get today out of the way, then I don’t know, I’ll see what happens.” Atsumu nods in understanding, slowly turning Kiyoomi to face him, smiling softly as he looks at an early-morning Kiyoomi in his sleep robes. They stare at one another for a moment, before Atsumu lets Kiyoomi sag against his body, head on his shoulder.

“A day at a time, Omi,” murmurs Atsumu, squeezing him tightly. “I’m with ya long as ya want me, Kyoto and…Beyond.”

Kiyoomi notices the uncertainty in his voice and he can’t help the brief, sudden burst of laughter that leaves Atsumu confused. “You sound so unsure. I just got to look at you for the first time and you think I’ll run the second I get to Kyoto. If you stay around, I want you near.”

“Ya wanna be with me when we get back? I’ve got some amends to make, but there’s space fer ya at ‘Samu’s place if you want it.”

“I want to see my cousin,” Kiyoomi tells him, “I will have board in one of his rooms. But– ” He leans straightens, smiling at Atsumu before pausing to rub away some dirt from Atsumu’s face with his sleeve. “I will let you court me. And we were never properly betrothed, if you remember.”

Immediately breaking into a grin, Atsumu lifts Kiyoomi into the air in his arms, earning a surprised yelp. “Anythin’ ya want, I’ll be a real gentleman darlin’. We can go to the shrine near where I grew up.”

Kiyoomi tries – and fails, to hide his smile behind the sleeve of his robe. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he responds, trying to sound grumpy as he’s spun around and placed gently on the porch. “We have all the time in the world.”

Leaning in, Atsumu kisses along Kiyoomi’s jaw and down to his neck, and Kiyoomi fists his hands in the front of Atsumu’s kosode. “Careful,” he warns, feeling hot under the collar already. “Don’t you think we’re doing it again now.”

“Ya can’t do this to me,” whines Atsumu as he grips Kiyoomi by the waist and works his lips below Kiyoomi’s ear, nibbling up to the lobe. “Give me a little taste and then tell me I can’t do it again.”

Taking his chin in his hands, Kiyoomi lifts Atsumu’s head up to face his own, meeting him in the middle for a shy kiss. “Precisely. Patience.” He flicks Atsumu fondly on the forehead. “We best pack and leave.”

Atsumu gives him one final kiss. “I’ll get to work, if yer ready to leave.”

Behind, the wind blows and the trees part and Kiyoomi thinks that his purpose here is fulfilled, so he nods confidently and lets Atsumu go back inside to prepare boxes of whatever they can carry on the back of his cart. Kiyoomi washes, dressing in some fresh robes. He’s about to head outside with a bag of his personal items when Atsumu’s distant voice calling his name rings and Kiyoomi starts running out to him.

By the chicken pen, Atsumu crouches down outside the wooden shelter. The rooster and other chickens are caged, while Kiyoomi’s girls cluck and pace around Atsumu curiously, peering around and trying to peck at his hands.

“Look, Omi.” Twisting around, Atsumu shows off the cracked egg cradled in his palm and the newly hatched chick sat amongst the broken shards of its shell. “Emi was keepin’ this warm. She’s a mom.”

The baby bird is small and pink with sparse white feathers and it squints its dark eyes at the bright light as though the sun offends it. It’s still wet from the egg membrane and its movements are slow as it flaps its skinny little wings and stands on wobbly legs, pecking at Atsumu’s palm while the three hens sit and watch it.

Crouching, Kiyoomi watches the little chick as it takes some uncoordinated steps, before Atsumu is holding out a hand for it to step onto Kiyoomi’s outstretched palms. He holds the chick in his hands as delicately as he can manage, his heart beating rapidly at the thought of it falling.

“What do ya wanna name it?”

“Me?” Kiyoomi asks, “why?”

“It’s yers to keep, yer a natural.” Shrugs Atsumu, “and I get to entice ya to come see me.”

Kiyoomi sits and pretends to ponder it. “It’s a very tempting offer,” he agrees. “I will have to come visit you every day, or they all might miss me.”

Atsumu’s grin is lopsided. “I’d miss ya too,” he says, pretending to pout – the expression wiped from his face when Kiyoomi leans in to kiss his cheek.

“Idiot,” mumbles Kiyoomi.

“C’mon, let’s go. Pile ‘em on the wagon.” Following behind Atsumu, Kiyoomi cautiously carries the chick he decides he will name Tora to the back of the wagon, the three hens following behind them.

“Ya like those chickens more than ya like me,” Atsumu says with a fond roll of his eyes as he watches Kiyoomi get settled in the back of the cart amongst their things, Emi and Tora snuggled on his lap while the others settle in front of him and peck at the wooden slats by Kiyoomi’s sandals until he sticks his hand out for them to feed on more grains. “They used to be my besties, now look at ‘em.”

“They can do no wrong,” Kiyoomi says with a slight scowl at Atsumu as he pets Emi and lets her snuggle against him with the chick hidden in her feathers for warmth. “I have a lot to fill them in on.” As he speaks, they all cluck excitedly and gather around him, leaving Atsumu to shake his head, rolling his eyes and earning a glare from Kiyoomi as he finishes putting the last of their belongings on the back of the wagon. 

After prepping the horses, Atsumu swings onto the driver's seat of the wagon and winks at Kiyoomi. “Are we ready to depart?”

Kiyoomi casts a lingering glance at the little cabin they called home for a while, feeling a pang of nostalgia. Once again he’s stepping into the unknown yet it’s hard to feel apprehensive when he’s no longer alone. He nods, ready.

The forest seems more alive and less foreboding and Kiyoomi isn’t sure if he’s imagining things, but the birds chirp louder and the trees seem greener. It isn’t quite summer yet it feels hot, but not suffocatingly so. Animals watch them from the bushes – a Japanese hare, and a group of Sika deer who cross the path in front of them. Squirrels run up trees and Kiyoomi even thinks he sees a boar foraging in the dirt through the rows of trees. The closer they get to the village, the more he realises that the fires hardly touched the wildlife, only burning through the fields and small settlements. Every so often Atsumu glances back at him and waves, and Kiyoomi’s eyes crinkle with his smile. 

The wind looks good in his hair, Kiyoomi thinks, and he places Emi down off his lap so he can twist and watch Atsumu as he drives the wagon. He slows when they near the village, as though sensing Kiyoomi’s own apprehension. When it comes into full view, it’s a wasteland. Thatched roof houses are caved in. The wattle and daub is strong and preserved some of the structures, but inside it’s ash. Any survivors have fled – it quickly became a ghost town. 

Atsumu leaves the wagon by the edge of the village and he hops down to help Kiyoomi out, but Kiyoomi has already climbed off the wagon and is marching towards the centre of the village without looking back. He’s tense, even more so when Atsumu catches up to him and grabs his arm.

“Ya good, Omi? Yer racin’ off on me. We don’t hafta stop here, we can keep goin’”

“In a minute,” Kiyoomi says hurriedly, “I won’t be long, I only want to see.”

Smoke billows into the sky on the other side of the village, as one house made of wood and set up on stilts with sliding shoji doors, burns slowly. 

“I thought the fire’s long went out,” Atsumu says to Kiyoomi, who is hardly listening as he follows the smoke through the village center, where shops and market vendors once traded, past the public baths and the path leading to the ancient shrine where the shrine keepers once stood and gossiped, whispering bad omens about Kiyoomi. 

It seems the village got what it deserved, whatever forces in the forest kept an eye on Kiyoomi – and Atsumu.

His childhood home burns and he isn’t sure whether the handmaids and his mother escaped, but Kiyoomi trusts that the forest decided whatever fate they were meant to have and he feels nothing. Halting a stone’s throw from the house, he watches as wooden beams collapse and the fire rages on, as though it had been alight since yesterday morning.

Maybe he should feel sad or guilty, that he should run inside into the smoke and search for anyone trapped inside, saving anything nostalgic and worth saving, but he doesn’t. Nor does he move. Atsumu takes his hand and squeezes it reassuringly as they watch the blaze in silence.

A faint scream echoes from inside the house as the roof collapses and they both flinch at the sound. Even as Atsumu steps forward, tugging on Kiyoomi’s hand to follow, Kiyoomi doesn’t budge,

“Omi? Someone’s inside.”

The choked out scream gets louder until it rattles inside his skull but the only indication that he hears it is the slight twitch of his eyes.

“Do ya want me to–”

Finally moving, Kiyoomi pulls Atsumu back by the hand to stop him from running towards the fire. He looks from his burning house to Atsumu’s concerned expression. “Leave it,” he says confidently. “The fate has been decided, I don’t think we’re supposed to intervene.”

The screams of his father get louder and more desperate, though when a wooden beam collapses it drowns out the sound and the fire takes him.

“Alright.” Relenting, Atsumu comes to stand beside Kiyoomi and they watch a while longer as the house is reduced to ash, the flames licking up into the sky.

Kiyoomi squeezes his hand, glancing across at Atsumu. His cheeks are ruddy pink from the heat of the fire and his hair is a mess from that morning. There’s a smear of dirt on his cheek and Kiyoomi leans in to wipe it with the backs of his fingers.

“Do ya wanna go to Kyoto now?”

He feels a brief twinge of something uncertain, like it’s all so real now his previous life is over. But Kiyoomi embraces it with a nod, letting Atsumu guide him away from the fire and back through the quiet village. By the time they’re at the centre of the village, the fire is no longer visible as it burns down to hot embers. Only the smoke can be seen in the eerily quiet space and Kiyoomi feels relieved once they make it back to the wagon. 

As Atsumu climbs into the drivers side to lead the wagon, Kiyoomi bundles a tiny Tora into the front of his robes and lifts himself up onto the wagon. 

“It’ll be a few days until we get to Kyoto,” he informs Kiyoomi as Kiyoomi rests his head on his shoulder. “It’s goin’ to be uncomfortable. Try and rest darlin’” Atsumu kisses Kiyoomi’s forehead, brushing a stray curl out of his face. “Holdin’ up okay? That can’t be easy.”

“It would be difficult if I were alone,” sighs Kiyoomi, watching as the newly hatched Tora weakly pecks at his finger, burrowing his tiny body on Kiyoomi’s lap for warmth. Kiyoomi cradles his tiny, fragile body against him with a slight smile that has Atsumu beaming at him like the sun comes out each time Kiyoomi’s smile is directed at him.

“I can’t stop staring at you,” Kiyoomi breathes, looking across at Atsumu fondly. “It’s strange. I don’t want to blink and have you gone from me again.”

“Well I ain’t goin’ nowhere, now I’ve got ya, husband.” He kisses Kiyoomi once more. “And ya have a lifetime of lookin’ at me now.”

With a hum, Kiyoomi chases Atsumu’s lips with his own, unexpectedly addicted to the softness of Atsumu against him. “You better not, now take our family home.”

And then they leave, bound for Kyoto for their new lives – the curse broken, and the forest allowed to breathe again once the smoke clears. 

END.