Chapter Text
Satoru looked painfully, undeniably human, and Suguru couldn’t have asked for a more compelling sight to open his eyes to.
But Satoru had other ideas and he was impatient for them. Suguru had only a second to come to terms with the fact that he was no longer in Meido before he was being pulled up into a sitting position. It was nearly too much for Suguru to grasp at once so he focused on Satoru and Satoru alone - he was all that mattered in that instant.
What Suguru noticed was concerning. Satoru was wearing only his kosode and it was stained with large spots of blood, particularly near his shoulders and down his chest. His face was smeared with dried blood, and it clung to his pale hair in rusty brown patches. Suguru didn’t think he had ever seen Satoru shiver from the cold either.
Yet, vulnerable and battered as he was, there was still strength in the way Satoru held him. As they clung to each other, at the end of one life and the beginning of another, Suguru remembered all the things he had told himself to forget. He hadn’t thought they would ever have this again, and he had been right, but then, here they were. Suguru wound his arms more tightly around Satoru and reacquainted himself with the way Satoru fit in his arms, the way his weight pressed against him and made his heart beat faster. Satoru felt perfect and his voice was dear and familiar even when it wobbled and stuttered with emotion.
Satoru continued to tremble and Suguru had to do something about it. Due to some nonsensical quality of Meido, Suguru’s robes were completely dry while Satoru was drenched, as if he had had to swim all the way across the vast lake to get to where they were. One look at the drifting ice made it clear that that was likely the case. So, Suguru helped Satoru change out of his wet things, despite Satoru’s stubbornness.
When Satoru fell asleep against him, Suguru couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. If what Suguru knew about Meido was true in any way, then Satoru had put his all into bringing Suguru back. Suguru could take it from there.
He pushed Satoru’s matted hair from his face and brushed away his tears. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”
First things first: there was no way Suguru could carry Satoru across the lake, and he wanted a better vantage point to find out where they were. To that end, he conjured his manta ray cursed spirit and got onto its back, holding Satoru securely in his arms as he did. To ward away the extreme cold, Suguru summoned a furaribi and commanded the dog-faced bird to keep up with his manta ray curse, so that they could warm themselves by the fire it was enveloped in.
They rose slowly, steadily, and hovered when Suguru could see the entirety of the lake. Steep rock walls cradled the lake, poking out of the ground as a protruding, malformed eye. It was a clear blue, brighter than the whiteness all around it, and it glared balefully up at them. Suguru could feel a quiet hum of something emanating from it, kin to cursed energy, yet different. Unsurprising, all things considered.
Without a single clue as to where they were, Suguru picked a direction and there they went. He found a larger lake in another crater and even more snow. They must be very far north. As much as he would have liked to unravel the mystery of a gateway to Meido, Satoru was in a precarious situation and Suguru wanted to make haste.
“Take us back to your birthplace,” Suguru ordered the manta ray. After all, all cursed spirits remembered where they were born, no matter how far away Suguru carried them.
When it became clear that it would be a very long trip, Suguru turned his attention to making sure Satoru was all right. He hadn’t seen any fresh injuries when Satoru had disrobed, so he checked his head for the source of all the blood and found deep gouges in the back of his head. They were already healing despite their burnt edges. Even so, Suguru tore the hem of one of his robes so that he could wrap up the wounds. After a moment of thought, Suguru tore another strip of silk to create a makeshift blindfold for Satoru - his eyes had been filled with blood.
It took more than a day and one stop before they arrived at Kamakura, by the sea where waves battered angrily against the shore as a storm raged outside. Unsure about the status of his execution order, Suguru elected to keep his head down and went out of his way to avoid detection.
“This isn’t Heian-kyo,” Satoru remarked, yawning wide and slumping where he sat by the furaribi. Starting a fire would have been ill-advised, considering they were taking shelter inside a wooden shack.
Suguru sat down next to Satoru and handed him a drooping squid on a stick. “No. It will take another day and we need to eat anyway.”
The furaribi eyed the fish Suguru had stuck on several sticks, but it drifted lower when Suguru narrowed his eyes at it. The red and orange flames it put out grilled the fish and squids without producing any smoke.
Satoru made a face after drinking the water Suguru had boiled. “I didn’t eat when I looked for you.”
“I can tell.”
Even through his blindfold, Satoru managed to shoot him an evil look. He waved the squid at Suguru, making the tentacles bounce and flop around. “Whose fault is that? A little bit of gratitude would be nice.”
Suguru took it as the joke that it was meant to be. “I’ll thank you when you stop whining.”
“Ungrateful ass.” Satoru huffed but siddled closer, pressing his side against Suguru’s arm.
“Hey.” Suguru nudged him rudely in the side before he could doze off again. “Eat first, then sleep.”
There was more complaining, but after dinner and a night’s sleep on a solid floor rather than suspended over an ocean, they continued on their journey. It was another day before they finally found their way back to the Gojo clan house.
Arriving as they did in the middle of the afternoon, there was no hiding their presence, so Suguru didn’t bother trying. Since all attempts to wake Satoru up had resulted in an annoyed smack in the face, Suguru had no choice but to carry him piggyback into the house.
Shoko and Yaga were the first to see them. Forgoing all greetings, Shoko tended to Satoru without a moment’s delay, bombarding Suguru with a veritable mountain of questions. Suguru answered all of them in as much detail as he could, holding nothing back. And no, no, Satoru was merely tired, not dying, and he had been awake enough to be a menace the night before.
Yaga looked as if he had something to add, but two girls raced around him and barrelled straight into Suguru. With some jostling and manhandling, Shoko and Yaga took Satoru off his hands while Mimiko and Nanako held on to him with clutching hands.
Suguru swept them both up into his arms. This, too, had been something he hadn’t thought he would have again. He had sent them and the rest of his family to Heijo-kyo on that fateful day, out of harm’s way, trusting in Satoru’s understanding of how Suguru behaved. It had been the right choice.
Whatever Mimiko and Nanako said was mixed up in their tears. They were open with their joy and their grief like no one else Suguru knew, unafraid to show their true feelings. He knew right then that those helpful hands and heartfelt voices had truly been his girls and not some scrap of wishful memory.
“I heard you. Even in that place, I heard you and I was saved by you.”
Mimiko hugged him with both arms looped over his neck and shoulder. “We’re so glad!”
Nanako fisted her hands in the sides of his robes, bumping her face against his shoulder. “We were so afraid, but you’re back! You’re really back!”
“Did you get the flower we gave you?”
“Was it a… chrysanthemum?”
“Yes! Yes, that was it!” Nanako laughed along with Mimiko, thick and wet and spontaneous. Suguru’s chest felt too tight and his face hurt from how much he was smiling. “It was yellow and we got it from the garden - don’t tell your friend!”
“I would never do that,” Suguru laughed. They were substantial in his arms, barely changed, though their hair was a mess and their eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and weeping. But he loved them, he really loved them, and he would protect them for as long as he drew breath.
Everybody gave Suguru space after that, but it was equally possible that Suguru had simply been too distracted to notice any overtures to talk. He traced his way to his and Satoru’s room through memory alone and found it in a very sorry state that necessitated a great amount of cleaning. Everything in it had been knocked askew, tossed aside, or otherwise disturbed, and blood had soaked into the floorboards in uneven splotches in shades of red and brown. The faint smell of spoiling meat hung in the air, no doubt from the spilled blood and the forgotten servings of food smeared on the floor. It brought home the fact that it had been weeks since Suguru had died, and that Satoru hadn’t coped at all.
A part of Suguru was gratified that Satoru had been just as deeply affected by what had happened, yet another part of him hated that thought and wished death could have brought a clean end to everything. And of course Satoru had been deeply affected. He still was.
Suguru fetched pails of water and cleaned up their room, doing everything in his power to return it to the state it had been in his best memories. It wasn’t all in vain, but there was nothing to be done about obstinate bloodstains and the inexplicable scorch marks in the shape of the bed. There was no winding back from their lengthy misadventure, only moving on from it.
He set off to look for Satoru next and found him asleep and still bloody, but the wounds in the back of his head had already healed over, leaving shiny scars the size of copper coins.
Satoru stirred and grumbled incoherently, rolling over to face Suguru, before grabbing his sleeve. He didn’t open his eyes but he said, “‘m hungry. Get me something to eat, will you?”
“Why don’t you get up and we can have dinner together?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m tired, and you can get it for me, Suguru.” He huddled under the sheets until only the top of his head showed, but Suguru could still feel the weight of his gaze. He could certainly hear the cheeky smile in his muffled voice when he tacked on a belated, “Please.”
Suguru heaved an aggravated sigh and rubbed his forehead, but he got up to leave the main house and walk to the kitchens anyway. Sheer coincidence made it so that he arrived in the middle of the hustle and bustle there when Shoko did.
The last time they had truly exchanged words was over a decade ago, but Suguru couldn’t have told from the easy casualness in Shoko’s tone. More than that, the fact that Suguru was alive again didn’t seem to phase her at all. “You look much better in normal clothes. You should try not to get any blood on them.”
“Ah, but I made many friends when I didn’t look the same as an aristocrat.”
Shoko was older now, her hair much longer, in a braid that fell to her hip, but the sudden sound of her laughter hadn’t changed one bit and her eyes lit up with it. “Good one! Being dead didn’t deprive you of your sense of humour.”
“That’s just as well. Imagine going through all this again without the ability to laugh at it.” Suguru took a tray of food from the cooks and replaced dishes that he knew Satoru would never touch. The rice could stay, so could the soup, but the jellied eel had to go, and so did the fermented beans.
Shoko pushed a second tray into his hand. “What was it like, anyway? In Meido.”
“It was as expected.”
The answer seemed to disappoint Shoko, but what was Suguru supposed to say? It was Meido and it was evident that he hadn’t lived his life that he was meant to. Yet, after all that, he was back again, his heart relatively unchanged. What did that mean? Was there simply no meaning after all?
Without Satoru, did he still have a place in this world? Was his own vision enough to carry him through? What did he want from this world, beyond Satoru and his family’s safety?
“Did you really see Gojo there?”
Suguru blinked at her and was struck by the realisation that she had probably handled his corpse after his death. It was only logical to assume that she had been responsible for regrowing his arm and patching up his side, even after death. “Yes. We spoke, and I could feel him.”
“Feel him?”
“I could feel his hand when he touched mine. He was still warm there, even though he looked like a nightmare.”
“Really?”
“His eyes glowed and he was white like an onryo!”
Shoko frowned and shook her head. “Isn’t Meido filled with spirits like that?”
“I—” Suguru was about to say no, but there had been more to it than that. It had only been a couple of days, yet what he remembered of Meido was already growing hazy and indistinct, leaving behind impressions but not the details. “I lost my eyes early on and by the time I regained my sight, Satoru was the only one I saw.”
“Huh, I see.” Shoko seemed to be lost in thought and Suguru left her to it.
Balancing both trays in his hands, Suguru started to walk back to where Satoru was waiting for him, but as soon as he stepped back into the main building, he ran into his old sensei.
Yaga Masamichi had been his teacher when Satoru had spirited him away from the onmyoji. He had been very vocal about his disapproval at first, but he had come around quickly when he had learnt of Suguru’s innate technique and his situation with the dangerous sorcerer known as Kamo Noritoshi. He had also been the one to send Suguru and Satoru on the catastrophic mission to protect Amanai Riko, but he couldn’t have known how profoundly it would have affected Suguru.
That was all right. Suguru had never blamed him. Yet, from what Suguru had seen, Yaga found fault in his leaving. That was fair, Suguru supposed. He saw no reason to explain himself.
“Sensei.” A greeting; nothing more, nothing less. Suguru stepped around him and went on his way.
“Suguru, wait.”
Suguru plastered a smile on his face and looked at Yaga. “I’m only here so that he can get better. Nothing’s changed - nothing can change.”
“Would you just listen?” Yaga clicked his tongue in irritation. Seeing how uncomfortable he was, Suguru was inclined to continue walking anyway, but Yaga must have sensed that, because he forced his own words out in the next breath. “I’m glad both of you got a second chance. I don’t think I need to tell you how unprecedented this is, so whatever you do, be good to each other and don’t ruin it.”
Suguru’s smile turned brittle, but it was easy to hold it in place, even though his eyes went flat and opaque. “Of course. That goes without saying.”
“By the—” Yaga cut himself off before he started to swear and took two steps towards him. His hand closed over Suguru’s left shoulder and Suguru tensed up instantly. That drew a wince from Yaga, but he went on anyway. “I’m glad you’re alive, Suguru.”
There was no way to tell if there was any truth to Yaga’s words, but at the same time, what was the point in lying about something so meaningless. Neither of them stood to gain anything in such an exchange. “You were in a difficult position and I’m not innocent. I don’t hold it against you. I knew what I was getting myself into, after all.”
Yaga grinded his teeth, still holding Suguru’s shoulder awkwardly, but too mullish to take it back. “I should have seen what was happening.”
Suguru endured the touch and felt only a quiet acceptance. “Perhaps, but everything is clearer in hindsight, and no one could have known.”
“I’m your sensei. It’s my job to know.”
Suguru considered his words and mulled over his own unvoiced reply: Yaga was only human, after all, and humans were fallible. Human. Suguru’s smile faltered and he looked away, ready to move on. “It really is fine.”
And it had to have been fine, or Suguru would have headed down a dark path filled with clashing convictions and contradictions, and not even his family could have reached him there.
Suguru put the food in the room he and Satoru shared first, before returning moments later with Satoru, an arm draped across his shoulders. Suguru was relieved to find that Satoru didn’t lean against him to walk anymore and that he was already awake when he had gone to move him back into their room.
They settled in the side of the room where a pair of zen had been set up near the far wall, past a silk screen painted with rolling mountains and a distant sea. It blotted out the rest of the room, creating a quiet area lit by the flickering light of a lantern.
They ate quietly there, and though Suguru had swapped out everything Satoru was likely to reject, Satoru still stole pieces of Suguru’s food, gulping it down before Suguru could protest. It was just as well, since Suguru had no appetite to speak of. Everything tasted like ash and he couldn’t tell if it was normal, or if it was some side effect of returning from the dead. He wasn’t sure he cared.
After that, Suguru dragged Satoru off to take a bath. He couldn’t stand looking at the dried blood any longer, when every glimpse of it was like a reprimand and an accusation.
“I’ve had it with— with all this!” Satoru tried in vain to untangle a snarl in his long hair, only to make it worse. Before Suguru could smack his hands away and offer to help, purple light crackled from his fingertips and wet hanks of white hair littered the ground.
“Satoru, I just spend all that time getting the blood out of your hair.” Suguru pressed his knuckles against his forehead, as if that could banish the twinge of pain in his head. “Couldn’t you have done that sooner?”
Satoru simply grinned at him and ran fingers through his newly-shorn hair to get rid of the stray strands. “Short hair suits me better anyway, don’t you think?”
It did, he did, and Satoru knew it. After all, when Suguru had met him, he had hair just as short, maybe even shorter. If not for the obvious scars, both old and new, all of them from the same collection as the ones that marked Suguru, he might have been that same irreverent, fearless imp.
Suguru considered asking him if he knew what he was doing, if he was doing it on purpose, but he wanted their tenuous truce to last just a moment longer.
Dressed in clean clothes for the first time in days, Suguru helped Satoru back to their room. Once Satoru had fallen asleep again, Suguru joined his family for their first dinner together since he had died.
“We don’t know where Toshihisa or Manami went.” Larue poked at the steamed carrots and lotus root, clearly concerned. “They scattered once we received word of your death and none of the messages we sent reached them. I don’t think they want to be found.”
Suguru cradled his teacup between his hands and countered gently, “Let’s not write them off so easily. We should look for them.”
Larue’s doubt was writ large on his face, but he conceded, “You’re right. They might just be waiting for the excitement to die down. Your death was just verified, after all, and Gojo Satoru has been absent for nearly two months. That Fujiwara monk and his cronies are getting suspicious.“
“We’ve kept a low profile,” Miguel added, and his bland smile turned into a grimace. “Gojo did detain and threaten me in front of all of them during the Night Parade, so that should offer some sort of explanation for my presence here.”
That answered some of Suguru’s questions. He did have a place in this world, separate from Satoru, and it wasn’t one that he could discard easily even if he wanted to. It took only an instant with his fragmented family, being part of their easy and unwavering trust in each other, to remind Suguru of why they were so close, different though they were.
It was worth coming back for.
“Geto-sama, what happens next?”
Miguel eyed Suguru with equal interest. “You do have a plan for the future, don’t you?”
And that was what it meant to lead them. Suguru looked at them, all of them wearing their expectation plainly on their faces, and realised that no matter what the future held, he couldn’t stray too far from his original path.
Those thoughts followed him into sleep, permeated his dreams, and drifted across the beach like a procession of white-robed figures. Suguru spared them. Then, he dissuaded Satoru from doing them harm because it simply had no meaning.
They pressed closer, smiles turning their faces into grotesque masks, and the sea churned with snakes and fish with human faces. None of them could touch Suguru, nor could they get close to Satoru, who hovered just out of reach, but Suguru spied familiar faces out in the waves. Haibara’s carefree grin was bright, if lopsided, even through the red mouth splitting his jaw. Next to him, Riko’s braided hair whipped wildly on the wind. In her hand was a red starfish and the side of her head was a red starburst.
Small hands tugged urgently on his sleeve, giving him the strength he needed to look away. He saw swollen eyes and faces painted black and blue and purple before he woke up.
Though they shared a bed, Suguru had taken one side of the bed while Satoru had taken the other, neither of them ever touching the other. Suguru sat up carefully so as not to wake Satoru. It was so quiet that Suguru could almost hear the sound of Satoru’s soft breath. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard, would he hear the drum of his heart too?
After a long moment of staring at nothing in the dark room, Suguru got to his feet and slipped out of their room.
Out of habit, Suguru sent three-eyed crows and deformed grasshopper cursed spirits ahead of him to have an overview of what was happening in the Gojo estate. The house was still and everyone was asleep, all except Okkotsu Yuta.
“They’re my eyes and ears. They’re not going to attack.”
Okkotsu looked away from the white crows and turned towards Suguru slowly. His hand was still on the hilt of his tachi. “You have a lot of birds.”
Suguru didn’t feel the slightest inclination to bring out his cursed inventory. He folded his arms together and smiled instead, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Cursed spirits come from negative emotions, after all, and birds were once believed to carry the souls of the dead to the afterlife.”
“Did they?”
Suguru stared down at Okkotsu. Ultimately, he decided that there was no reason to deny his question. “No, but there were a lot of them there.”
“Can I ask you—” Okkotsu seemed to steel himself for a blow, but he stood up straighter. “What are your intentions with Gojo-sama?”
Despite their fight, Suguru knew very little about Satoru’s apprentice. Suguru’s senses said that something had changed in the nature of his relationship with his cursed spirit, Rika, but that was neither here nor there. “I’m not interested in revenge, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Okkotsu looked conflicted, unable to articulate what he truly meant, and Suguru deliberately ignored it. Anything more than that was none of Okkotsu’s business. “I must also thank you - I heard you when I was in Meido.”
Okkotsu chewed his lip, his brow still furrowed, but his hand eased away from his tachi and he nodded. “Then you know what I think. I meant what I said.”
“I understand.” His smile warmed, but he wasn’t looking at Okkotsu anymore. “Looking out for a fellow sorcerer - especially one you owe a life debt to - is commendable.” Satoru needed more people like that in his life.
“I don’t get it.” Okkotsu didn’t leave the way he was supposed to. He took a tentative step closer and stood beside Suguru instead, peering into the darkness, perhaps looking for the object that had captured Suguru’s interest. He would be looking for a long time. “You tried to kill my friends and you wanted me dead, but now you’re just… fine? How can you take things so simply?”
Suguru laughed but there was no humour in it. “This isn’t like drawing a line in the sand.”
“But… It sort of is, isn’t it? The way you talk about it?”
Sorcerers and non-sorcerers; people and monkeys. That was it, wasn’t it? “I want sorcerers to have the freedom to live their lives without dying for the whims of those who can’t control themselves. But after all that’s scraped away, there are people I must protect, and just standing guard isn’t enough.” Suguru cast a sidelong glance at Okkotsu. “You should think about how far you’re willing to go - it’s clear that you have people who are important to you too.”
Okkotsu didn’t launch into a tirade about how Suguru had first tried to kill his friends, nor did he devolve into explosive anger. Satoru truly did collect strange sorcerers. “Was it those girls? Mimiko and Nanako?”
“Suguru, what sort of crazy stories are you telling my apprentice now?”
Satoru’s appearance was a welcome interruption to a conversation Suguru had no intention of continuing. Suguru’s smile turned wry, but it was much warmer than it had been. “You should have left me in Meido if you really believe that.”
Satoru’s smile was a reflection of his but it was Okkotsu he addressed. “It’s late. You should get some sleep. I’ll manage from here.”
Okkotsu ducked his head and left after only a second of uncertainty, leaving Suguru and Satoru on their own.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“What?” Satoru laughed and stepped closer, until they stood shoulder to shoulder, and their sleeves rustled together. “I asked because I didn’t know, but we’re both up, so it doesn’t matter. Can we go to the garden?”
Suguru didn’t need to ask to know which garden he meant. Still, he took one look at Satoru’s single layer of kosode and shook his head, “It’s cold.”
“You’ll keep me warm,” Satoru replied breezily, as if Suguru wasn’t also clad only in one of Satoru’s kosode. He took Suguru’s wrist and steered him to the southern garden, and, because of his touch and his proximity, his Infinity extended to Suguru so that they could both step on top of the snow instead of sinking in up to his knees.
The yuzu tree they stopped in front of was still green under the thick layer of snow, heavy with fruit that should have spoiled if not for the cold. Suguru couldn’t smell its clean fragrance through his very numb nose, but he knew exactly what it could have been like. “It’s time to talk about what I’m going to do, isn’t it?”
Satoru gave him a strange look. “Didn’t we agree that it would be what we’re going to do?”
Suguru considered pulling away, but Satoru chose that moment to slide his hand into his, holding him in place. “Your apprentices rely on your good standing. What would they do if you were to leave your path?”
“Don’t underestimate them. They’re growing stronger every day, and all of them have something to fight for.”
“I can’t accept the monkeys. I never will. I—” It was difficult to find the words to convey exactly what he felt when he thought about the cage he had found Mimiko and Nanako in, when he had walked through that procession of white-robed monkeys, and when he had verified the remains of a friend.
Satoru’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, bringing him back to the garden.
“But I realise that my misgivings aren’t entirely towards them.” He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, then added in a quieter voice that was no less vehement, “I hate them. I hate them so much. But—”
“But?”
“I won’t help them, Satoru. You can’t ask me to do that.”
Satoru unwound the bandage around his face, baring eerie blue eyes that were serene and steady. He saw Suguru clearly. “Go on. Say what you want to say.”
Suguru deflated and his jaw locked shut. He didn’t have to say anything. There would be no understanding, only judgement. Yet, Satoru was standing right there, waiting. At the very least, Suguru should try to make things work. “I won’t help them, but I’ll leave them alone if they stay out of my way. I’ll focus on protecting and nurturing young sorcerers. I can do that without eliminating non-sorcerers.”
“I can work with that.” Satoru’s eyes creased in the corners as his smile brightened. “I can definitely work with that.”
Those words knocked out the tension that had been winding tight in Suguru’s gut. Fighting had never left him feeling so drained, and it hadn’t robbed him of all desire to talk as their conversation had.
“You know I don’t expect you to become a pacifist, don’t you?” Satoru laughed and so did Suguru.
“That’s good to hear, since you’re not a pacifist yourself.”
“I’m just asking you to reconsider your target.”
Suguru cast a suspicious look at Satoru. He already had a plan brewing in that brain of his, but Suguru would make sure that it wasn’t something that only Satoru could do just because he was Gojo Satoru. He would also have to explore his own cursed technique more - it was much more intricate than he had thought and if it extended beyond death, what did that mean for the ones he destroyed? Perhaps Satoru didn’t have to be the strongest one alone.
Presently, Satoru seemed content to simply admire the way the snow sparkled under the light of the setting moon. Its silver light picked out all the ice crystals and the silk and linen flowers that festooned the garden, dyed a pale purple like wisteria, a faded blue like hydrangea, and a soft pink like peonies. The flowers also reminded Suguru that for all intents and purposes, Satoru was an aristocrat, with all the excesses of one. And yet, it had never come between them, when it should have made so many things nigh impossible.
“Suguru, do you still feel the same way about me?”
Suguru choked on his laughter, so much so that it took him a moment to manage coherent words. “Did you really go to all that trouble without knowing if I still felt the same way?” He coughed and cleared his throat before he dissolved into laughter again. “Besides, you’ve seen the trials I went through. You already know.”
“Just because there wasn’t anyone new doesn’t mean you still feel the same way.” Satoru’s hand felt limp in his hand, but he didn’t let go.
“I would have come back whether you cared that way or not. I still love you.”
“Good.” Satoru turned and leaned in close, until their lips brushed together. “Good, I’m glad.”
The kiss was cold, dry, and little more than the ghost of a touch, but it was still the first they had shared in a decade. Satoru’s breath was warm against his skin, evidence that he was alive and well and truly there.
Suguru wound an arm around his waist and pressed the long lines of their bodies together, moving back in for more. Under the pressure of his lips, Satoru’s mouth parted, coaxing a sigh of satisfaction from Suguru, even if he nearly jerked back when he felt the press of Satoru’s tongue against his.
It wasn’t too cold anymore when Suguru had to draw back to catch his breath. His face was on fire - in fact, his entire body felt like he had been ignited, and a hectic, desperate ache burned in the pit of his stomach.
“Let’s go back inside.”
Suguru pressed a firm kiss on Satoru’s mouth and stepped back onto the engawa, leaving no trace of their passage.
Keeping their hands to themselves was a tedious feat made even more frustrating when there was no one to witness their vulgarity. It made Satoru’s presence next to him glow, tempting him, challenging him, so close, still his, yet apart.
Suguru’s hands were in Satoru’s clothes the moment the shoji banged shut. His hands were in his hair, petting and tugging and stroking, hungry for every detail. Satoru laughed and said something, probably some stupid remark about his eagerness, as if he didn’t already have his cold hands under Suguru’s kosode, groping his ass. Then, their words devolved into sighs and sharp breaths when Suguru pushed Satoru against the wall and went back to kissing him.
Eventually, they ended up in bed. Suguru couldn’t be sure if he had wrestled Satoru down or if Satoru had tugged him along with him, but Suguru ended up on his back, his kosode splayed open, the belt somewhere out of sight. Suguru only allowed Satoru to keep his own kosode for as long as it took Suguru to pull him closer by the collar, before sliding it off a shoulder.
Had it really been a decade since he had experienced anything like this? Satoru kissed him with a fervour that Suguru would never tire of, and he yielded easily to Suguru when Suguru gave as good as he got. He made the sweetest noise when Suguru sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and applied just the right amount of force, and his hands felt right curled over Suguru’s sides, soothing one moment, then maddening when they slid down to his hips and squeezed hard enough to bruise. It knocked the breath out of Suguru.
Suguru had to touch Satoru, too. Scars should have been a bygone concern with Satoru’s Infinity, but Suguru found new ones on top of the old ones from a time before Satoru became untouchable. Suguru’s hands retraced the faded ones, then they learned the new ones that had only just begun to lose their raw pinkness.
Suguru’s hands landed on Satoru’s waist next, heaving him up so that he could kiss along the new scars, down his chest and his side, until he could dig his teeth in just above his hip.
“N-no— No, let me.” Satoru pressed Suguru down by the shoulders. He moved down for a brief but thorough kiss that left Suguru’s lips tingling with sensation.
Satoru didn’t stop there. His lips continued, hot as a brand, pressing under his chin first, along his neck, sucking marks into the base of his throat until Suguru squirmed and his chest heaved with his quickening breath. Satoru pressed the tip of his tongue along the sensitive skin right on the edge of his old scars, from shoulder to waist, waist to shoulder, but he soon became distracted toying with Suguru’s nipples.
Suguru fumbled their fundoshi open with deft hands and groaned when he could finally roll his hips against Satoru, grinding their erections together until they leaked all over his stomach. His heart thudding in double time in his chest, Suguru wrapped a hand around both their cocks and gave them several firm strokes, only to be interrupted by a wild-eyed Satoru.
Satoru pushed his hand away and moved lower, his hot breath tickling against Suguru’s sensitive skin. Then, he licked a wet stripe along the underside of Suguru’s cock, from root to tip, and Suguru choked out a groan. After another lick, he took the head of Suguru’s cock into his mouth, all while palming the planes of Suguru’s abdomen, making an even bigger mess out of the pre-come that had pooled there.
Satoru’s mouth felt better than Suguru remembered, better than he could imagine. It wrung helpless little noises from him, but Satoru never moved past taking only half of him. Impatient, perhaps a little - a lot - desperate, Suguru gripped Satoru’s hair and pushed his head down to meet his canted hips.
Satoru started choking immediately; his throat clicked open and shut, cinching so suddenly around Suguru’s cock it dragged a strangled moan from him. In the next instant, Satoru knocked Suguru’s hand away and pinned it to the bed.
What a sight Satoru was. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears and his cheeks were flushed bright pink. His lips were a deeper shade of red, swollen, stirring in Suguru the sudden desire to kiss them and to bite into them.
Satoru licked his lips slowly, shakily, and his words came out in a rough croak, “I’ll stop if you do that again.”
Suguru tested Satoru’s grip and couldn’t move his arm. It only made the ravenous look in Satoru’s eyes keener, and the arousal in Suguru’s blood sing. “Then move faster.”
“But I miss you. I miss you and I’m going to take all the time I need.”
An entirely separate sort of ache clenched in Suguru’s chest, but before he could find all the paths back to the memory of the beach, Satoru ducked his head and resumed sucking his cock.
He moved faster this time, if only to tease him. He bobbed his head, taking more and more of Suguru into his mouth, until his garbled sounds mixed with Suguru’s strained groans. It was a supreme act of will not to buck his hips up into that welcoming mouth, when he looked so good with his mouth wrapped around his cock.
It quickly became too much when Satoru swallowed around his cock even as he eased a slick finger inside Suguru. Suguru bit his lip and strained in vain against the hand that pinned his wrist down, his free hand fisting in the sheets. Satoru’s crafty eyes positively glowed with glee when he eased a second finger inside Suguru and pressed the pads of his fingers up and hard.
The bolt of building sensation made Suguru shoved his shoulders back into the bed, his hips wrenching up for more, chasing after the prod of Satoru’s fingers. And he didn’t disappoint - he remembered where to stroke over Suguru’s inner walls, just how much to twist his fingers, and he worked a third finger past his clenching entrance even when Suguru was a panting wreck and sure that he had had enough.
He hadn’t. He needed more. His legs fell open for Satoru, but Satoru still pressed him open with a hand on his thigh before pushing into him with a hard snap of his hips. He was very hard and larger than Suguru had expected, and he filled him in a way that made his breaths come rapid and shallow.
Suguru didn’t remember this part either, though he might have blotted it out simply to spare himself the torment of wanting. It was strange to realise that this was all really happening, that his body was whole once more, even when Satoru put an arm around his back and started to move.
Suguru didn’t care what Satoru had said before. He tore the kosode the rest of the way off Satoru and clutched at the back of Satoru’s neck so that he could use it as leverage to press open-mouthed kisses all over his neck and his shoulders.
“I missed you too.” He pulled roughly on Satoru’s hair, startling a breathless cry out of him and earning himself a violent thrust in turn. “I miss this, I miss you, I miss you—”
Suguru tried to wrap his legs around Satoru’s waist, but Satoru hooked his hand behind one of Suguru’s knees and spread him wide open. When he thrust into him again, he pushed deeper still, sparking pleasure that sizzled up Suguru’s spine.
But they weren’t complete yet, not when they could still lock lips, and Suguru could delve into Satoru’s mouth as he held on for dear life. When Satoru reached between them and palmed at Suguru’s cock, he lasted only for a few more thrusts before he came all over their stomachs, and Satoru wasn’t far behind him. He pressed his face into the crook of Suguru’s neck, his cry muffled against his sweaty skin, and he shuddered after one last thrust.
Suguru could get used to having this again.
Suguru continued to hold him after he had stilled, and even after he had slumped on top of him. Satoru’s heartbeat echoed his own, half a beat ahead of him, trying to keep up or waiting for him. In that moment between moments, as their heartbeats calmed and their breathing evened out, only they needed to exist. Suguru closed his eyes and focused on just that, casting all other thoughts out of his mind.
Satoru stirred only to stroke his cheek and to run his fingers through his hair. Perhaps it was Suguru who had dozed off instead.
“Love you.”
Suguru smiled, but he didn’t open his eyes. Satoru’s voice was so soft, but it made the little hairs on the back of Suguru’s neck lift and set off a trill that hummed under his skin. “Still love you. I can’t believe you could ever have doubted that.”
“Sleep.” Suguru brushed his lips over Satoru’s jaw, then settled on his mouth. “We’ll still love each other tomorrow.”