Archive of Our Own

The sun was near gone beyond the horizon, by now. Its last wave goodnight lingered across the quiet ocean surface in a dim orange glow that stretched to bid Yotei farewell. Darkness was swallowing up these last bits of light, as the moon woke to replace them with its own cooler gleam and its dancing stars.

The ever-present wind had been gentle throughout the day and was still at this late hour. It had cooled rapidly as the day grew tired and now carried with it snowflakes that no longer melted as they finished their descent from the sky above. It painted the landscape in a muted white, each rush of wind like a brush-stroke that spread its white ink.

They were cold brush-strokes now, but Atsu did not shiver as it brushed past her. Instead, she closed her eyes and tilted her head to follow its caress, inhaling to fill her chest with the near-bitingly cold air.

In her lap, her bare hands laid slightly reddened. The coolness of the wind and the snowflakes that brushed against the backs of them, as well as her warm cheeks—it was a nice change from the heat of the forge and its burning flames that had tried to lick at her skin all day. She knew it was unwise to sit here in this cold, after spending so long in the heat. But she did not want to move.

With a quiet exhale, she curled her hands into fists but kept them otherwise still as to not disturb the snow that was gathering on them, cooling them. She peeled her eyes open too and blinked at the house that stood beside her—the home.

The newly-replaced shoji were slid closed in an attempt to keep the heat inside. They were not quite the same as the ones she had grown up with, the ones whose wood now acted as fuel for the forge. She had tried to replicate them, to the best of her rusty abilities, but her memory lacked and the wood that had been used then was nowhere to be found now.

She had managed to trade with the Ainu for something similar enough, thankfully, for the house was no longer a mere painful memory in its ruin. It was a home (or would become one, now) that had come to house more than only her and the occasional wild animal seeking shelter or a place to nest. And a home needed doors.

It needed warmth, contained.

Not like a forge, hot enough to burn. But like an open campfire, only hot enough to warm.

On the other side of the paper screens, lanterns still held their flickering shine. Unmoving silhouettes stared back at her or perhaps they cared little for her, transfixed by the calm sound of strings being plucked; a shamisen filling in the quiet.

There was little melody to it, no song, as if the plucking was absentminded or thoughtless.

Or educational.

The corner of Atsu’s lips tugged back ever so slightly in the form of a smile. She could picture the scene so clearly in her mind; two figures seated opposite one another, both with their attention on the other’s fingers that each held their own bachi—one loosely with many years’ practice and the other still too tightly with an unpracticed grip.

It was a nice image, wrapped in warmth and home.

But the smile did not linger on her lips, her attention soon drifting back before her.

Snow had gathered atop the graves; a soft peak laid gently on the narrow top of both wooden pillars, as if Yotei herself had laid them to rest in her shadow. The muted, now-wrinkled flowers that laid nestled between the two had gathered snowflakes of their own too, the slightly yellow-pink petals covered in a fine layer.

Atsu had had to ride far out to gather them, weeks earlier.

These were not flowers that grew this far from Oshima, these days.

Atsu looked at the graves, eyes lingering on the one that had not yet stood long enough to wear the hardships of the passing years. This feeling, of sitting beneath the ginkgo tree alone… it was no different than it had been a mere year ago, when she had believed to be the last of her family. This heaviness in her chest was the same as then, though back then there had only been one grave to sit before.

All those years ago, there had not been a body to bury for Jubei. She had looked and looked and looked—searched everywhere and then waited, when she had found none. Foolishly, for he had never shown, and Atsu had had to grieve a grave meant for three that only housed two.

And now, all these years later, her brother had returned home.

Only to join their parents in the ground.

Jubei had grown up to be a man, a samurai. Like he had always wanted.

Her brother, her twin wolf. A man she did not get the chance to fully know.

And a father, too.

A shamisen string was plucked too roughly, a distant giggle accompanying it.

Atsu closed her eyes to soothe the sting in them. She swallowed thickly, her throat tight.

She had cried and screamed months ago, the relief of finally taking down Saito dwarfed by the grief that had come with it, presented before her like a cruel punishment. All these years, she had wandered down the road for revenge, for justice, without thought of consequences. None had mattered. There had been nothing worth staying around for anyway, only the rage that burned inside her, her wish to let her family rest in peace her only drive.

And then Jubei… Jubei was alive.

Had been. But now he too laid in the ground.

Atsu held much regret in her heart; regret for showing Saito to their home, regret for not searching harder, longer, for Jubei. Regret for not listening to him and letting go of her anger and vengeance in time.

Jubei had paid the price for her actions, while she was forced to suffer all over again.

Quietly, Atsu inhaled shakily and squeezed her closed eyes tightly.

There was something wet gathering at her lash line, something she did not want to fall.

She fought it and hurried to lift her now-uncurled hands from her lap. She brought them together, palm to palm, and lowered her head in a sorrowful bow. Around her, the cool wind swirled, caressing her cold cheeks, brushed aside stray locks of her hair that had escaped her careful up-do.

She wanted to tell Jubei everything. How his daughter was doing, how Ezo was doing in these free-er days. She wanted to tell him about the funeral the Matsumae had held for him, and the honor they had given him in the form of a pillar in the Castle’s gardens, among his favorite flowers, planted by his own daughter.

She wanted to tell him so much.

Though she was sure he already knew, wherever he watched from.

Atop Yotei, perhaps, sitting with their parents and watching over her and everyone.

It was not a comforting thought. It was a bitter thought, her grief too fresh to be anything but.

He should be here. He should be sitting beside her, grieving their parents together and watching his daughter grow up and the people of Ezo become less afraid without the shadow looming over them. He should not be watching it all from so far away, detached from his body that laid cold and decomposing in the earth.

He should be breathing, happy, alive.

Atsu should have taken his place.

It would only have been right, for what did she have?

Back then, nothing. Now, because of him…

“Aunt Atsu!”

Atsu exhaled steadily and peeled her eyes open. Slowly, she turned her head and looked back to the house.

Kiku had slid the shoji open and was poking her head out, shivering ever so slightly but smiling brightly all the same. Behind her, the thoughtless strumming had drifted into a gentle melody, one that made the passing wind feel all the more comforting and eased the tension in Atsu’s shoulders.

It was getting dark out here, with the sun drifting away.

But where Kiku stood, warmth shined brightly.

Like her smile, as she called out, “Aunt Atsu! When can we eat?”

In a visible huff, a crooked smile tugged at Atsu’s lips, and she allowed it to grow. Her shoulders eased further, an ache lingering in their stiffness. She rolled one, then the other, cringing at the cracks of her overworked bones. She should have stretched before sitting still for so long, but she was little more than a fool.

She dropped her gathered hands; one to brush the snowflakes from her lap and the other to her shoulder to knead and ease the tension. She kept her head turned, eyes on Kiku and smile directed that way too.

“I thought you didn’t like my food!” she called back, a teasing tilt in her words.

Kiku had certainly complained about it enough, as polite as she had tried to be. In the beginning, anyway. She used to call it different and unique and had always left much of her share despite her stomach’s hungry growl. But she had since grown comfortable and was no longer opposed to speaking her mind.

Atsu had tried not to be offended. Really, she had.

She had been successful too, for the first little while, only because Kiku’s complaints had reminded her of Jubei and their trip to the temple before everything had gone wrong. Kiku had complained then too, egged on by her father. And perhaps, in their shared grief, she had tried to reel it in, as if to spare her aunt’s feelings.

But Kiku was Kiku, and Kiku was playful and teasing.

And she liked to complain. And complain and complain.

Yet she still ate, a little bit more each time.

It’s a wonder, what a hungry stomach can make on get used to.

“I didn’t say it had to be yours,” Kiku called out from the house, smile turning toothy. “Oyuki-sensei can cook… maybe.”

On her lips, Atsu’s crooked smile wavered ever so slightly.

Behind Kiku, the shamisen melody trailed off and then went quiet.

Oyuki had returned to them only a couple days ago, after a trip around Ezo to collect coin and whatever else she did on the road that she did not tell. Over these past stable months, she would come and go with little warning—staying a few days, a week, rarely more, and then she would hop on her horse and be on her way.

She would bring back food, coin, supplies. Anything they needed, like a father providing for his family. Atsu barely had to step off the land and only did when Kiku wanted to fish or to collect mushrooms when their supply ran low. Work came to her, after all. She had taken up the mantle left by her father and, each day, she would fire up the forge and carve out hammers, axes, scythes, anything that was requested of her. Repairs too, when those were needed.

Unlike Ran or Ginji or even Taro, she did not have to travel around the land to find work. Stories of the vengeful onryo had eventually bled into the shadows, into whispers, replaced by stories of Kengo’s daughter, the blacksmith. No more was needed for people to seek her out, exactly where they had sought out her father.

Atsu liked it. It was steady. It kept her warm and her father’s memory alive.

Like the shamisen kept her mother’s.

Though, she could not deny that she often longed to go with Oyuki.

To hop on Mochizuki and follow her.

To answer Kiba’s call each time the moon rose.

But she never did. She had left that life behind and did not intend to return to it, now that the names on her sash had all been crossed out and the wind had taken their ashes. She had made a promise to Jubei. She would no longer follow in her urges, for the fear of returning to see the gonkgu burning and Kiku in danger again. She refused.

And yet, she could not deny that going with Oyuki was tempting.

Oyuki was tempting, despite it all.

It was still difficult to look at her, sometimes, particularly in the late hours when the moon stood brightest and cast dull shadows over her face, covering the softness of it. It would sharpen the angles, like a mask molding her face, and it made something ugly curl in Atsu’s stomach.

Oyuki was not that person anymore. She had proven that, time and time again. The burn mark on her forearm said as much too, not to mention how loyal she had been to Atsu since they had reconnected. But it was a terrifying thought, to know the person she used to be and how easily they had leaned on each other.

It was not all bad, though.

These months of steadiness had eased something within Atsu too. She did not hold much anger in her heart anymore, not for Oyuki. Not to say she had forgotten, though she had forgiven. She would never forget, nor would she let Oyuki forget.

But it was not anger nor conflicted feelings that bloomed in her chest when Oyuki stepped up behind Kiku and laid a hand on her shoulder. She still held her shamisen in her other hand, a soft smile on her lips and her attention on the girl rather than Atsu, even though Atsu’s eyes shot to her instantly and she stared at her, waiting for her to meet her gaze.

Look at me, she wanted to tell her.

Look at me. Prove this is not Saito’s Kitsune, only a gentle fox.

Inside, behind them both now, the lanterns remained alight. With her back turned to them, shadows stretched over Oyuki’s face. They were soft and gentle, shaping around the roundness of her face and carefully clear of the little smile on her lips.

Not Saito’s Kitsune. Only a gentle fox.

“Oyuki can supervise,” Oyuki told Kiku, “while Kiku learns to cook herself.”

Kiku pursed her lips and made a face as her eyes drifted aside. “But who would teach me?”

Oyuki quirked a plucked brow. “You don’t think I could?”

Kiku shrugged and said, “I’ve never seen you cook.”

“And yet you would rather have my food than your aunt Atsu’s.”

“Well…” Kiku drawled, drawing out the word.

From her seat, Atsu flatly called out, “Oi.”

She fought the smile that tugged at her lips when Kiku giggled, though she had to duck her head when her fight proved difficult. With a shake of her head, she moved to stand and brushed off the snow lingering in her lap. By the time she was on her feet and turned to the house, she had managed to settle her face in a displeased expression, smile hidden away.

She put her hands on her hips and gave Kiku a stern look.

“Be grateful you get to eat at all,” she told her.

It was teasing, playful, with no malicious intent behind it.

Atsu knew what going hungry was like. She did not want Kiku to know it too.

Even if it meant serving her food that did not come from the Castle kitchens.

They could have stayed there. The Matsumae had offered. But neither of them had wanted to, when Jubei rested here, at home, underneath the ginkgo tree where he belonged.

“I am!” Kiku said, defensively. “Just… it would be nice if it tasted good, sometimes.”

Sometimes, as if Oyuki had not brought home dishes from the inn that had lasted them up until a couple days before, as she often would. Kiku had certainly eaten her fill, they all had, and she had not even complained when Atsu had fired up the hearth and cooked the night before, though even Atsu could admit it had not been quite as good as the inn’s.

This day, however, was evidently different.

Or Kiku was merely in a teasing mood.

Fine. Atsu could play along.

She narrowed her eyes, lips pinched into a thin line—but all it did was make Kiku giggle. When Atsu shuffled and took a step forward, those giggles turned into laughter and Kiku spun around to hide behind Oyuki, who breathed out a laugh and did not move.

“I think she’s afraid of you,” Oyuki said, eyes glinting with mirth.

Finally, she was looking at Atsu.

Atsu met that gaze and kept her face settled in displeasure, in annoyance.

She clucked her tongue and said, “She’s a little brat, is what she is. You and Jubei… you’ve spoiled her too much.”

Mentioning him… it still felt heavy, a sense of wrong lingering in the air.

She had spent so many years referring to him as if she had lost him, for she had. And then she had only gotten to have him back for such a short while. It felt cruel, to say his name and not see his grown face smile at her. Yet it felt only more cruel to not mention him at all, even if it stung.

And perhaps it was only her who felt the wrongness because behind Oyuki, Kiku laughed.

With no hint of sadness or grief, though Atsu knew it was there, somewhere.

Oyuki exhaled an airy chuckle and said, “I think we spoil her the right amount.”

We, she said, which could mean her and Jubei.

Or, perhaps more likely, her and Atsu.

The thought of it felt scandalous, though not in a way that made Atsu feel shame. Rather, it made something whirl within her chest, something that had started to grow familiar over the past many months now. It warmed her cheeks despite the cold, though she ignored it with a huff that came out visible from between her lips.

Shaking her head, she stepped up to the invitingly warm home.

Over Oyuki’s shoulder, Kiku peeked out with her brilliant smile.

There was so much of Jubei in that smile and those warm eyes, as if time had reversed years. He had looked much the same as this, when he was not much older than her; the round, youthful cheeks and the slight crease beneath deep brown eyes. It was far from the first time his ghost had peered out in his daughter, yet it still made the warmth in Atsu’s chest freeze into an ache, grief like a startlingly cold wind dimming her fire.

She let it linger, as much as it hurt, only because she missed him. Though she was quick to point her focus to the details of Kiku that was not Jubei; such as her ears that fanned out a little wider than Jubei’s, particularly noticeable with her hair in her usual bun, as well as the roundness of her mouth where Jubei had always had a tightness to his.

Atsu did not know who the mother was. Jubei had not told.

She wondered, sometimes, if Kiku knew.

But she never asked.

Atsu clicked her tongue disapprovingly and told her niece, “Spoiled brat.”

And Kiku laughed, lifting her chin to stick her tongue out at her.

Atsu rolled her eyes bodily, even as the ache in her chest eased away and a smile tugged at her lips. She allowed it to grow and did not hide it, kept her stern (though now even less effective, with her smile) gaze on Kiku as she stepped onto the creaky, wooden porch. She reached out with the intention to flick at Kiku’s forehead, like she used to do with Jubei.

But Kiku was too fast and stepped back before she could even get close.

“I’ll start on dinner!” she called out as she spun around and rushed inside.

“Cut the salmon up!” Atsu called after her. “No starting fires alone!”

“I kno-oooow!” came Kiku’s responding call, now distant.

Atsu huffed and brought her hand back to herself—or she would, had a delicate hand not grabbed onto her wrist and prevented her from moving too far. Atsu’s eyes slid from inside the house to the woman before her, the warmth in her chest alight once more in a single breath.

Oyuki was smiling at her, though her eyes did not meet hers. Instead, she looked at her face, her forehead, the top of her head. With an airy chuckle, she tugged on Atsu’s arm, forcing her to take a step closer. At the same time, she reached up with her other hand and gently brushed her fingertips against her hair.

Down along Atsu’s face, snowflakes drifted slowly, softly.

“You sat there too long, kimi,” Oyuki said, voice gentle. “You will get sick like that.”

Atsu hummed noncommittally in response, too focused on the warmth of Oyuki’s touch, not only atop her head but against her wrist too. She did not have a tight grip on her. If Atsu wanted, she could easily slip out of her hold. But she did not want to and did not move even as Oyuki shifted her grip and ran her fingers down along her opened palm until she could grab a hold of her hand, fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing to do.

Quietly, Atsu curled her fingers and held on.

It made the smile on Oyuki’s lips stretch out a little more, like such a small action pleased her greatly. Still, she did not meet her eyes. She was focused on her own hand as she brushed aside a few stray locks of Atsu’s hair, before her hand drifted down to her cheek where she too brushed something aside. Snow, perhaps, or the cold that still lingered on her skin.

Atsu stared at her, all the while.

Stared at the warmth in Oyuki’s brown eyes, at the slight flush on her cheeks.

At her smiling lips, full and pink-ish red.

Atsu swallowed and resisted the urge to lick her own chapped lips.

“I don’t get sick,” she told her instead, though it was a lie.

It had merely been a long time since she had allowed herself to be sick.

Oyuki huffed out an airy chuckle and placed her palm against Atsu’s cheek, thumb brushing along her cheekbone. Finally, her eyes shifted to meet Atsu’s and her smile grew a little wider in her amusement, dimpling her cheeks, creating creases in the corners of her eyes.

She looked so happy, standing here, it was easy to forget her past.

Atsu leaned into her palm and shuffled half a step closer.

Leaned into her inviting warmth.

“No,” Oyuki said, amused. “You are much too stubborn for that.”

Again, Atsu hummed noncommittally. She had nothing to say, nothing to argue it.

All she did was stare at Oyuki and her full lips.

Oyuki was taller, though not by much. It was only really noticeable when they stood like this, so close together. But despite her height, there was nothing looming or domineering about her, in this moment. She looked inviting, kind. Like a welcoming embrace.

Not Saito’s Kitsune, only a loving fox.

Atsu exhaled and turned her head into Oyuki’s palm.

She closed her eyes and eased her shoulders, let them sloop visibly.

Like this, her lips brushed against Oyuki’s warm palm. Not a kiss, not quite.

The thumb on her cheekbone brushed across her skin. Once, twice.

“Come,” Oyuki said quietly, after a moment. “Let’s get you warmed up. I will make a fire, while you help Kiku with the salmon.”

Atsu hummed, though this time she spoke. “You know how?”

Oyuki scoffed and patted her cheek in a mock slap. “Atsu,” she said, scolding.

Atsu peeled an eye open and grinned, crooked and teasing.

Oyuki was still smiling, even as she tsk-ed and shook her head. “And you wonder why Kiku is the way she is,” she said.

“I know,” Atsu said flatly. “I must be a terrible influence.”

Hear that, Jubei? You should’ve stayed. You would’ve raised your daughter better than I.

Oyuki hummed and said, “It could be worse. You are not as terrible an influence as you are a cook.”

In a blink, Atsu’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Oi,” she warned.

Oyuki smiled, innocent yet teasing. “It’s not the worst I’ve eaten,” she said, “but Kiku grew up with Matsumae meals, Atsu. I’m afraid you don’t quite meet those standards.”

“Or the inn standards.”

Atsu did not mean to sound bitter, for she too had enjoyed the meals from the inn. It had been a nice change from the tasteless salmon and chewy mushrooms that she had grown so used to. But she could not hold back the flicker of bitterness that seeped into her words anyway.

Oyuki nodded, unaffected, and agreed, “Or the inn standards.”

“Unfortunately for her,” Atsu said and lifted her head upright, “she will have to settle for my terrible cooking. We do fine without the inn meals, anyway, and without you.”

The words had left her tongue before she had even thought about whether she wanted to say them out loud or not. Like the bitterness, she did not mean for these words to come out so harshly, even if a lingering truth weighed on them.

This time, Oyuki was affected; her smile wavered, something akin to hurt flickering in her eyes.

Atsu was no longer angry with her, no longer held a rotten resentment in her heart. She hadn’t for a long time now. But the past tended to haunt, like the graves by the gonkgu tree, and it was a past that, between them, was inescapable, no matter how far back it went.

No matter how much regret Oyuki held.

It had been a difficult thing to forgive, and it had taken time. But it had quickly become clear that the days without Oyuki around were somehow far worse than letting that anger and grief fuel the dying fire in Atsu.

Though it wavered, Oyuki did not lose her smile. It stayed on her lips, softer now.

“I am aware,” she said and dropped her hand from Atsu’s cheek. “But while I’m here, I would prefer not to eat burnt salmon and mushy mushrooms.”

“Complain,” Atsu said, “and you can go to sleep hungry.”

She made a disapproving noise that could have been a snarl had it not been so halfhearted. It came out sounding more like an annoyed click of the tongue than anything even resembling disapproving, which must have been clear to Oyuki because she chuckled as if she was amused rather than scolded or threatened.

Atsu grumbled incoherent words of (halfhearted) annoyance and shoved her aside. It was not the reaction she had wanted—but she could not deny the effect it had on her, to hear Oyuki’s laugh. A warmth was spreading in her chest, even long before she stepped around Oyuki and into the heated home. It made her cheeks warm, her heart beating fast as if she had been running rather than sitting still.

In the entrance, she undid her furry coat. She was aware of Oyuki stepping inside too and coming up behind her, the shoji sliding shut to keep the cold out, but she did not look up or acknowledge her. Not even when two familiar hands reached over her shoulders to grab onto her coat and lifted it off her. Atsu let her take the coat, but she kept her back turned to her.

“You wouldn’t,” Oyuki said behind her.

“Watch me,” Atsu replied as she messily stepped out of her snow-covered footwear.

Again, Oyuki chuckled. “Kiku wouldn’t allow it.”

Atsu wanted to argue; it was almost like a game they played, this back and forth. She was not always on the losing side, however, though when she was the one to initiate it, it was to make Oyuki flustered rather than annoyed. Atsu knew how to turn it around, knew how to make Oyuki falter in her tease. It would be easy.

But on the western end of the house, Kiku was seated by a low table with her fingers in a salmon from the morning’s gathering. Two more laid beside her along with discarded fishbones and a wide, short blade. Its oak hilt was dirtied by her working fingers, while the blade itself laid gently on a thin cut of bamboo to protect it, as if it were precious.

Which it was; Hana had gifted it to her not long ago. Not quite a kunai, but still useful.

She looked up when the two stepped inside, her lips curling back in a smile.

“What won’t I allow?” she asked them, amused eyes flickering between them.

“Me to go hungry,” Oyuki told her as she hung up Atsu’s coat. “Would you?”

“No!” Kiku was quick to say. “We have enough food for all of us.”

“I’ll eat her portion,” Atsu said and crossed her arms stubbornly.

Kiku laughed, well knowing the threat was empty.

Atsu would eat Oyuki’s portion though, just to prove a point.

Oyuki came up behind her before she could decide to, however. She placed a hand on the small of her back and slid it around to rest on her waist as she stepped up close. She was so warm, her breath like rays from the sun that licked at her skin when it ghosted over her neck.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said in a whisper.

Atsu lifted her chin, ignored the swoop in her stomach. “I’m starved,” she said stubbornly. “I could eat all the fish and leave none for you.”

“Aunt Atsuuuuu,” Kiku said in an amused scold.

Atsu looked at her, at her scolding gaze.

Like this, too, she looked like Jubei.

“Be nice,” Kiku said. “Oyuki-sensei gave us food from the inn, so we can share our fish too.”

Atsu wrinkled her nose. “Lectured by a child,” she muttered quietly. “Unbelievable.”

Oyuki chuckled in her ear, then patted her hip in a gentle push.

“Come,” she said. “Go sit, help your niece. I’ll get the fire going.”

She stepped around Atsu then, her hand lingering on her hip for only a moment before she let go. She went to the hearth in the corner of this end and started rolling up her sleeves to tug them back and safely away. Atsu watched her, eyes wandering down to those now bared arms. Though she was slender, Oyuki was strong and her arms in particular held much of that strength.

Atsu traced the curve of her forearms with her eyes, lingering like Oyuki’s hand had on her hip. But she was quick to look away, when her eyes landed on the brand burned into her skin. It felt too invasive to look at too long, no matter how much else of Oyuki’s skin Atsu had seen and explored.

Instead, she dropped her arms and headed over to the table to join Kiku—and if she made a childish face at her when Kiku smiled innocently at her, well.

Oyuki was never to know.

Dinner was served and eaten, by all three.

Kiku ate each bite of her serving and did not complain a single word, though there was little reason to complain when she had been the one to do the majority of the cooking. Atsu did not think it tasted much different than when she would do the cooking, perhaps only slightly less smoky. But she too ate each bite and reluctantly (but playfully) told Kiku that it was good—if only to make Kiku smile proudly.

See, Jubei? She’s happy.

She quickly regretted the compliment, however, when Kiku got too cocky.

Not even a flat warning look made her less so.

Maybe too happy.

Outside, in the cooling evening, a soft chime sang quietly as the wind brushed past their home. If she listened close enough, she could almost hear Jubei laugh.

Kiku finished her serving first and was the first to leave as well.

It was not a particularly spacious house, though it had once housed four people and now only housed two and an occasional third. They slept where, during the day, Kiku practiced her shamisen and Atsu her art, where Oyuki counted her gathered coins and their supplies and occasionally taught Kiku. The bedding was packed away until nightfall and now, as night was drifting over them with the snow, Kiku went to lay them out.

One set for each of them, though she always put two close together when they were three.

Atsu had not told her to, neither had Oyuki.

Kiku was merely too observant.

Atsu watched her lay out the bedding from her seat on the other end of the house; one elbow resting on the low table, warmed cheek resting on her loosely curled fist, while her other arm hung over her bent knee. Beside her, Oyuki was only just finishing her serving.

“I think,” Oyuki said, patting her lips dry, “she wants us to hurry and go to sleep.”

Atsu hummed noncommittally.

Her back turned, Kiku told them, “I’m not tired yet! But I know aunt Atsu is—“

“Oi,” Atsu interrupted, less sharp than she meant to. “Don’t call me old.”

Oyuki chuckled quietly, while Kiku looked at them over her shoulder with an innocent smile.

“I’m not,” Kiku said, that smile only widening.

Without looking at her, Atsu gestured to Oyuki and said, “Your sensei is way older. Maybe she’s the tired one, huh? Why didn’t you say her?”

“Oyuki-sensei,” Kiku said. “Are you tired?”

“Exhausted,” Oyuki said, clearly not.

Atsu sucked her teeth and righted herself. “Be quiet, you two.”

Neither were, both laughing instead.

“If you’re not tired, brat,” Atsu said as she pushed herself to stand, “you can go burn off some energy outside. Cut some bamboo, clear the garden. The tree shed again, there are plenty leaves to gather.”

“But it’s snowing,” Kiku protested and stood as well.

“And if you get the leaves done tonight,” Atsu said, “you don’t have to clear both leaves and snow tomorrow.”

She bent down to pick up the wooden bowls from the table. Oyuki had brought them back months ago, as a gift when the roof of the house had been replaced. They were not the same as the ones Atsu had grown up eating off of, those bowls were burnt and lost to the wind. But they were fine bowls, the wood soft and light.

Across the house, Kiku groaned and dragged her feet as she headed for the shoji.

“Fiiiiine,” she said. “I’ll leave you so you can sleep, obaa-san.”

Atsu paused, quirked a brow at her. “Ten bamboo cuts tomorrow,” she said, like a threat.

At this, Kiku did not groan. Instead, she laughed and pulled the shoji open. She had barely even gotten her warm coat on properly before she rushed outside and slid the shoji closed again. Her silhouette did not linger on the other side either; she was quick to run off and be a careless child.

Atsu stared after her, her face slowly easing.

It was only when a warmth pressed against her side that she realized she was smiling. She quickly bit it back and turned her head, unthinkingly leaning into the warmth as Oyuki slid her arms around her middle and kissed her shoulder gently. Atsu hadn’t even noticed her get up.

“You’re too harsh on her,” Oyuki said against her.

“And you are too soft,” Atsu retaliated. “You spoil her.”

“As do you,” Oyuki argued, her hands wandering upward and along her arms. “You can pretend to be a hardened shell all you want, Atsu, but I know you grow soft the minute I leave.”

Atsu bit back the words on her tongue and allowed Oyuki to take the bowls from her, when her hands wandered all the way up to them. She said not a word either, when Oyuki stepped back and around her and carried the used bowls to the washing bin in the corner, its water still slightly dirty from the morning’s meal. She just stared at her, quietly.

Oyuki had said those words without a hint of accusation, though it had still sounded like she believed she was the problem. And Atsu could not deny it, because though there was little anger left in her, there would always be something. Their history was too tense for there not to be.

Atsu did not like to admit it, but she did put on a front when it came to Oyuki.

In a way, she felt like she had to, in order to protect herself.

To protect Kiku, most importantly.

“Go lie down,” Oyuki told her gently as she knelt by the basin, her back turned to her. “Kiku has given us privacy. Why not make use of it?”

She said it so lightly, so casually, like the words meant nothing at all.

But Atsu knew what they meant and it made her body warm.

Atsu muttered a word, one that was meant to be an insult but only made Oyuki chuckle quietly in her amusement. She did not linger in this end of the house, after that, and headed over to the other end to where Kiku had laid out her bedding, right next to Oyuki’s.

They were new, both of them.

Atsu’s had gotten too worn, and Oyuki had wanted to match.

While Oyuki washed, Atsu shrugged out of her outer clothes, tossing them carelessly in a pile atop a chest in the corner. She kept her art supplies in it, a recent sumi-e painting of the drifting cranes drying on the wall above it. Stripped to her inner layers, she lifted the thick blanket and shuffled underneath it.

It took her a minute to get comfortable, always restless despite the comfort that wrapped around her as she tugged the warm blanket up underneath her chin. She shifted, kicked at the end of the it, tugged her bare feet into the warmth too. Only then did she lie still, eyes up at the ceiling.

Nearby, she could hear Oyuki’s hum; a gentle tune like a lullaby.

Inhaling slowly, Atsu let her eyes drift closed though she fought sleep.

She wanted to listen, just a little longer.

But perhaps she did drift after all, perhaps even for a while, because before she knew it, the humming had abruptly stopped and was instead replaced by the soft sound of movement to her right. She peeled her eyes open and blinked blearily. The lanterns had been extinguished, leaving the house in dim darkness with only the lanterns out front casting a distant glow. Based on the quiet inside, Kiku had yet to return too.

Briefly, Atsu glanced to the side.

Oyuki sat on her knees on the bedding beside her. She had undone her hair, long locks framing her relaxed face gently and falling over her shoulder, resting on the mound of her chest. She had undone her kimono and was tugging it further open, which revealed a mountain of smooth skin—and two no longer wrapped in supportive garment.

Atsu tore her gaze away and forced herself to stare at the ceiling.

She counted the new wooden planks, mismatched with what little of the old remained. Ginji had managed to find a carpenter who could help fix it, though Atsu had not been happy with another person’s hands touching this place. The carpenter had not, however, and had merely left her the wood and kind advice; he was an old man, too old to be fixing roofs anyway.

It was perhaps not the nicest roof, certainly not up to the standards that Kiku had grown up with at the Matsumae Castle. But Kiku had never once complained. Instead, she had and often still would come with suggestions on what could be added or improved, and what could be done to make it more like home, as she put it.

The suggestions were always noted, though not always followed through.

Kiku had regrown the garden outside, which was something that Atsu never could and had not even thought of, save for trimming the withered weeds occasionally. Not much grew in this cold and seeds were not easy to come by in these times—but the Ainu traders sometimes wandered by and welcomed a trade. Atsu had been gathering handfuls, little by little, so she could surprise Kiku once the snow had eased.

Atsu had once planted things with her mother, long ago.

So long that it almost felt like an entirely different life, even though the evidence of those memories still flourished in master Heijiro’s garden. She had not visited in a while and did not plan to either. Once, when Kiku had started showing interest in the shamisen, Atsu had thought to take her there and introduce her to master Heijiro, like her mother had done with her.

But then Oyuki had offered to give her lessons, and Kiku had asked Atsu to teach her when Oyuki was on the road. And Atsu had packed away the thought. Perhaps they could visit master Heijiro another time, when Kiku was more confident in her playing and could show master Heijiro that his most difficult student was now a decent teacher.

Movement beside her interrupted her thoughts.

She blinked and glanced to the side again. Oyuki was lying down now, on her side and turned toward her with her head propped up on her hand. Her eyes were on Atsu, watching her in the quiet. Atsu met those watchful eyes for only a second, before she looked away again.

Oyuki had not even bothered getting under the blanket; her kimono still sat too loosely on her full frame.

Atsu ignored her… for a minute, anyway.

“What?” she asked then, when Oyuki continued to stare.

In return, Oyuki asked, “What’s on your mind?”

Atsu did not answer for a moment. She considered lying, considered keeping her front.

But…

“This will be the first winter I’m not alone.”

It felt like a vulnerable thing to admit, even if it was only stating a fact. For the past 16 years, she had spent winters on her own, with only her horse to keep her company—first Shimaki, now Mochizuki. After her return to Ezo and many, many months of trying, the wolf had occasionally joined her as well, sometimes a familiar wanderer too.

But mostly, she had been alone.

In this cold, ruined house.

This house that was no longer cold, no longer ruined.

It was warm, it was repaired. It was a home again.

It made her chest ache to think about; something terribly sharp and awful yet wonderful at the same time. She got to lie here, in this warmth with another person beside her and a young girl just outside. She got to be warm, while her brother and her parents laid in the frozen ground, cold and long gone.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder.

Atsu blinked her misty eyes, then turned her head.

Oyuki shifted closer to her with a hint of a smile on her lips. There was something in her eyes too, in the way she looked at her. It reflected whatever made Atsu’s chest ache so terrible—perhaps she too felt a guilt weighing on her, for lying here in the place that she had helped tear to the ground.

Of course she did. Oyuki was not Saito’s heartless Kitsune, only a gentle fox.

A fox who shifted all the more closer and lifted Atsu’s blanket.

Atsu shivered at the rush of cold. “Oyu—“

But her complaint was cut short, when Oyuki threw a leg over her and hoisted herself up to sit on her low stomach, straddling her with a leg on either side. The blanket fell over her shoulders, and she lowered herself until her chest rested atop Atsu’s; heavy and warm, a comforting weight.

Oyuki smiled down at her, arms sliding underneath the flat pillow beneath Atsu’s head.

It brought them closer together, warmth spreading.

In a whisper, Oyuki said, “First winter you don’t have to be cold, too.”

With a huff, Atsu lifted her hands and laid them both on Oyuki’s shins. They were bare; Oyuki had shed herself of more clothes than Atsu realized. Perhaps all she had kept on was her outer kimono robe.

“Is that your excuse?” Atsu asked, teasing as she ran her fingers lightly over Oyuki’s skin. “To be here, rather than your own perfectly good bed?”

Oyuki hummed, dipped down a little further. “Don’t pretend you object,” she said. “In a cold such as this, it is easier to stay warm with shared body heat.”

Atsu tilted her head back slightly and muttered, “Sly fox.”

There was little heat in the words, more affectionate tease than any real insult. It was spoken with more fondness than it may have suggested, like when Oyuki called her kimi, a word that only highlighted her own superiority due to her age. In a way, it was their form of endearments.

Oyuki was certainly not insulted by it; she merely hummed a wordless response and dipped down to close the short distance between them. She pressed her lightly parted lips to Atsu’s in a barely-there kiss, then another and a third, before Atsu tilted her chin, dug her fingers into the meat of Oyuki’s bare shins, and kissed her back.

The first time they had kissed and lain together, Atsu had been the one to initiate it.

She had thought little of it, at the time; Oyuki was beautiful, in her noticeably older age. There was a gentleness to her, a warmth when she skillfully played her shamisen, that had drawn Atsu in. Captivated her and calmed her, despite the ache in her chest when it had reminded her of her mother, who had often played much the same way, like she was part of the melody rather than the mere conductor.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Perhaps Atsu should have known, then, that Oyuki was more than she portrayed herself as.

But she had not and had instead allowed Oyuki near.

When Atsu had (disgruntled, displeased, annoyed) handed back the waitress uniform that Oyuki had made her wear as disguise, she had been the one to pull her in for a daring kiss. She did not do anything like it often and never with anyone she planned to keep around for very long—a servant here, a trader there, a hot spring attendant who looked at her a little too long.

Oyuki, however…

Atsu had felt drawn to her in a way she still found difficult to comprehend.

She had marked it up as simple desire and loneliness, at first. But then they had continued to fall into bed together and Oyuki had kept flirting with her so unashamed. Until her past had been revealed, and Atsu had felt her world shatter beneath her feet.

It was far behind them, now. The hurt would always linger, Oyuki’s betrayal an endless shadow lurking in each corner. But Atsu had long since stopped pretending she did not still want her. It stirred complicated feelings within her, like the sense of guilt for letting someone who had (unwillingly, she now knew) taken part in her family’s murder stay here so often.

For letting that same someone make this house a home, where she had once let it burn.

Atsu tried not to think too much about it.

It would destroy her, if she did.

She kept it packed away, in a tiny puzzle box that she had forgotten the solution for. It would do none of them any good to linger on, anyway. She had lingered in her anger and resentment too long already, after all, and what had that given her? Little more than an open grave for her long-lost brother.

But these were not thoughts that swirled in her mind as she dragged her rough hands up along Oyuki’s smooth, bare legs, until she could crawl her fingers underneath her loose kimono. Her mind was too preoccupied by the skin beneath her fingertips, too busy paying attention to the soft breath that her touch drew from Oyuki; satisfied and pleased.

And a little heated too.

Atsu parted her lips, and Oyuki followed suit. It was easy, then, to slip her tongue into her warm mouth and swallow the quiet noise that escaped from her when she found hers.

Oyuki tilted her head to allow the kiss to deepen, as she spread her legs a little wider to sink down against her a little firmer. She shifted her hips and arched her back ever so slightly, pointedly pushing into Atsu’s grabbing hands.

Atsu got the hint and ran her hand further up along Oyuki’s thighs. It brought her kimono with them, hem caught around her wrists as her hands cupped those round cheeks and—

Atsu stilled.

She had expected to find the garment Oyuki wore underneath her kimono. Not for support but for warmth, in these colder nights. But there was nothing separating her hands from the skin of Oyuki’s behind. Nothing. Perhaps the lack of supporting garment should have clued her in, yet it came as a surprise to find Oyuki naked underneath her kimono.

Atsu inhaled a breath and held it.

Something warm traveled through her, rushing south as her stomach tightened.

Above her, Oyuki lifted her head just far enough back to look at her. When she spoke, her breath ghosted over Atsu’s still parted lips hotly.

“Atsu,” she breathed, arching into her hands. “Why did you stop?”

Atsu blinked up at her. Why did she? This was nothing new, this was—

Without a word, she pushed at Oyuki and tossed her back onto her own bedding. She followed her, of course, rolling onto her side and hooking a hand underneath Oyuki’s knee to spread her legs.

Laid out like this, Oyuki was a sight; kimono doing little to cover any part of her. Her breasts had slipped out from beneath the fabric in the forceful rearrangement and now laid bare, nipples perked up and chest slightly flushed. Her stomach was mostly covered, still, but with her legs forced spread like this, her lower region was not.

She was on display and though Atsu did not push, her legs spread further anyway.

Inviting. Pleading, almost.

Atsu stared down between her legs, down at the wiry hair decorating her mound and hiding her treasure. Quietly, she pushed Oyuki all the way onto her back by laying her leg out to the side, then she ran her hand up along her bared thigh. Her fingers caressed along the way, light and teasing, just to make Oyuki shiver and breathe out something akin to a moan.

She guided her hand up, up, up, until her fingers found that hairy mound—and something warm and damp.

With a quirked brow, Atsu looked back at Oyuki and pressed a finger to her wetness.

“We went to rest only minutes ago,” she said, teasing.

She almost smiled, too, when Oyuki flushed and grabbed onto her bicep.

Not to stop her, just to hold onto her.

“And I have needed you for longer,” Oyuki said in a breath.

Atsu let her other brow rise too and now, she could not fight the smile that tugged at her lips.

Not only in joy, but delight.

It only grew when Oyuki made a displeased sound and slapped at her arm.

“Don’t be smug, kimi,” she said, shifting where she laid. “I was away too long and—nh…”

She quieted abruptly the second Atsu laid her thumb against her clit. She tensed too, though she kept her legs desperately parted even as Atsu guided two fingers down between her folds to spread them. She was so wet down here, even without Atsu’s spit to help ease the way like she would usually have to. Briefly, in the back of her mind, Atsu wondered if Oyuki was so desperate that she had touched herself before Atsu had woken.

That thought was quickly dismissed, however, in favor of watching Oyuki’s eyelids flutter.

Atsu caressed against her bud gently, teasingly.

“What was that?” she asked, shifting a little closer. “Were you about to say you missed me?”

Oyuki let out a breath, her hand running down along Atsu’s bicep to grab at her elbow. She tugged at her pointedly, hips shifting to meet her fingers in a quiet demand. Already, Atsu could feel her desire throb against her thumb.

“Ahh,” Atsu said, smug and pleased. “Or did you just miss these?”

With those words, she ran her two fingers a little farther down between her folds and stopped right by her wet opening. She circled them there but did not let them slip inside, even though Oyuki was clenching as if to suck them in. It frustrated her, Atsu knew, so she kept circling, gathering the wetness she so gracefully offered her.

“Atsu,” Oyuki breathed out and tugged pointedly at her arm. “I would prefer if you didn’t tease.”

“And I would prefer,” Atsu retaliated, “to make you a mess.”

Or for you to stay this time, she did not say.

She had barely accepted that want herself, she was far from ready to say it out loud.

There would be time for those words another day but for now, she dismissed them and guided her now wet fingers back up between Oyuki’s folds to join her thumb at her curious bud. She circled this too, spread the wetness around it as she drank in the sound of Oyuki’s quiet breathing, the heady scent of her so distant yet so pungent.

Atsu had liked this too, the first time they had lain together; the way Oyuki spread for her and flushed so prettily, all the way down to her chest where her breasts sat heavily and loose. The way her lips stayed parted with her quiet breathing and the little furrow wrinkling the skin between her brows. The way her eyes always closed despite her best efforts to keep them open.

But more so, how easily she invited Atsu’s fingers inside.

It was easy to slip the two curious explorers into that now familiar heat, such a contrast to the cold outside. As those warm walls coated her fingers with slickness, she watched that wrinkled furrow between Oyuki’s brows deepen and her lips parting further to allow a quiet, breathy moan to escape. Atsu drank it in, curled her fingers just to hear it again.

She only slid them partway inside before she guided them back out, first to circle around her opening in a tease and then to spread the slick to her own thumb once more. Oyuki was so wet with arousal, Atsu did not think she even needed to use spit—and perhaps Oyuki had already done so for her.

Atsu rubbed her fingers together as she shifted to lie a little better, to make the angle a little easier on her shoulder. Then, she guided her fingers back downward to slip them back inside that warmth, her thumb stretching out to push against her sensitive bud. It was an easier slide now, for both, with the wetness to help ease the way.

In her ear, Oyuki exhaled a quiet moan; “Atsu…”

Atsu hummed and watched her face closely as she guided her fingers in, out.

In, out, her thumb moving in slow circles.

Teasing, just to make her a mess.

Atsu would happily pleasure her until she grew tired, but she would not give the first so easily, even if she knew Oyuki so desperately wanted it quick. It was evident by the little twitches her hips were doing, even more so with how tightly her walls wrapped around her fingers as if doing so would get them deeper inside.

She was so on edge, and Atsu had barely even begun.

“Oyuki,” she said quietly and leaned over her. “You’re so pent up. Haven’t you pleasured yourself on the road?”

“Why would I?” Oyuki breathed out. “You, ah, you do it better.”

A slow grin spread crookedly on Atsu’s lips. She shifted a little closer and pushed her fingers deeper into Oyuki’s warmth, the pads of them caressing her clenching walls. With a pleased hum, she dipped her head down and kissed Oyuki’s jaw.

“You say don’t be smug,” she whispered against her skin, “yet say things like that too, like it wouldn’t get to my head.”

Oyuki huffed out an amused breath; a laugh. She tilted her chin down, and Atsu shifted a little further up just to kiss her parted lips. It was a sloppy kiss, a mere wet slide of lips that was interrupted by Oyuki’s moan when Atsu circled her bud a little firmer.

Around her back, Oyuki’s other hand ran up to grab at her.

To pull at her pointedly.

Atsu got the message and shifted, guiding her fingers deeper inside. She touched along her warm walls, caressed the soft bumps on each slide, and moved them back and forth, back and forth, drawing out breathless sounds from the woman beneath her. She kept kissing her too, though Oyuki’s lips remained barely responsive. It was fine; Atsu kissed her anyway.

But she soon trailed her kisses to her cheek, her jaw. There, she nudged pointedly, and, in a breathy moan, Oyuki tilted her head back to bare her throat. Atsu did not hesitate to plant her lips there, kissing along her warm skin. Downward, until her lips found her flushed chest.

If she stayed still for a moment, she could feel Oyuki’s heart pounding.

And she did. She stayed right there with her lips pressed against Oyuki’s chest, while her fingers continued to move in their slow, teasing pace—even though Oyuki kept bucking against her hand in search for more.

In a breath tainted by humor, Oyuki said, “You always get cocky when we lay together.”

Atsu huffed out a breath. “You’re easy to please,” she muttered, then kissed her skin.

It was not difficult, when Oyuki responded to her touches so openly. She was easy to read. All Atsu had to do was pay attention, something that was not a difficult task when Oyuki allowed herself to be so open in moments such as this.

Atsu kissed along the mound of her breast, pushing against the fullness of it. She longed to put her hands on both, to feel the weight of them in her palms; Oyuki was bigger than her here, slightly more round too despite their difference in age, because while Oyuki had worn supportive garment for decades, Atsu had not until long after she had developed. She had not cared much for her chest either.

Oyuki’s, however?

Oyuki’s was as stunning as the rest of her.

And Atsu longed to hold them, to pleasure them too.

But both her hands were busy; one pleasuring the woman beneath her and the other trapped under a warm body. So instead, she used her mouth and kissed along her breasts, pausing briefly to flick her tongue at a perked nipple. Oyuki inhaled sharply when she did and clenched around her fingers. Not enough to stop her, but enough to be pointed.

“Atsu…” Oyuki breathed above her again.

Her fingers curled around her, against her back and around her elbow. Many years ago, Oyuki had once shoved her away to save her life. Now, she clung to her as if her life depended on their closeness. As if she was on the edge this time and wanted to fall.

Atsu shifted. She leaned over her a little more to slot a leg between Oyuki’s spread ones and lift herself up on her untouched elbow. Like this, it was easier to guide her fingers a little further inside, stroking along Oyuki’s walls while her thumb worked her sensitive bud as it throbbed with the beat of her heart.

She moved her fingers ever so slightly faster, only a little firmer.

Atsu knew her hands were rough, even with the wetness coating her fingers and trailing down to her palm. Her time as a ghost, as the onryo—it had left her with mismatched scars all over her body, telling stories that she did not want to put into words. And it had left her hands roughened.

Strong, of course, but not smooth like this far up Oyuki’s thighs.

Not soft like the folds that rested against her knuckles.

Atsu knew they were rough—that she was rough.

Just as she knew Oyuki liked them that way.

Liked her that way.

Underneath her, Oyuki had tilted her head further back, her eyes now closed and mouth open to let out quiet but rapid breaths. Her hips were shifting, grinding down against the fingers pleasuring her. She was so wet and the sound of it filled the house obscenely, far louder than Oyuki’s quiet panting. There was little musical about it, despite Oyuki exuding music in everything she did.

But like this, it was too vulgar, too arousing for anything like it.

And Atsu loved it.

She loved the sound of it, just as she loved knowing only her ears were allowed to hear it. Oyuki had once assured her that there was none but her and had not been since they had first lain together. Neither men nor women, she had promised. Atsu had told her the same, though the men were redundant for she had never desired to lay with one anyway.

Oyuki shifted her grip on her, nails digging into her skin. She would leave marks like this, like she had done multiple times before too. Atsu did not relent despite the ache of it, however. She shifted her hold, turning her hand to press the heel of it against Oyuki’s mound. Like this, her wet palm rubbed against her bud as she guided her fingers back and forth a little faster, a little firmer, pads sliding against her clenching walls.

“Atsu…” Oyuki moaned again, in a quiet breath.

She too shifted, her leg moving as if to close.

But Atsu did not let it.

She lifted her own and stopped its approach. The movement brought her to straddle Oyuki’s other leg, trapping it to the bedding and keeping her forcibly open. In this position, Atsu’s crotch was pressed flush against Oyuki’s clenched thigh. Quietly, without thought, her hips bucked and ground against her.

She exhaled at the relief the pressure provided. Briefly, she thought of shedding her layers and pressing herself to Oyuki’s warmth, to rub against her until their wetness mixed and they both fell over the edge, together. But just like she did not dip down to taste the wetness gathering on her hand, despite a burning desire to, she did not do this either.

Because only a second passed before Oyuki suddenly gasped and arched her back.

Her fingers, so tightly on Atsu that they would likely bruise.

And her opening, clenched so tightly around her fingers.

Atsu watched her tense and shake as she came on her fingers. She rubbed her through it, fingers slowly easing their pace when Oyuki suddenly exhaled sharply and shook in the aftermath. She was a sight, like this; stunning and beautiful and arousing. Atsu could not take her eyes off her, even as she throbbed between her own legs.

Slowly, once Oyuki no longer shook but only breathed heavily, Atsu eased her fingers out. She ran them up between the folds, spreading her wetness to her bud which she circled teasingly. Once, twice, and then her hand was grabbed and stilled.

“Atsu,” Oyuki exhaled sharply, like a warning. “Give me a moment, before you do that.”

Her eyes were still closed and though she had grabbed her hand, she did not move it away. She merely kept it there, letting Atsu’s wet fingers linger against her throbbing mound as she breathed.

With a hum, Atsu dipped her head down and kissed her chest again.

There, she closed her eyes and stayed, just to feel Oyuki’s rapid heartbeat against her lips.

“Too old to do it twice?” she muttered against her skin, lightly curled her fingers against the mound.

Oyuki exhaled and shifted. “No,” she said as she moved toward her, “but it seems unfair to be pleasured alone. Don’t you think?”

Her eyes were open now, though half-lidded. She was looking at her with a smile stretched across her lips, a smile that might have looked innocent if not for the glint in her eyes. She moved closer, so close that Atsu had to lean back and let herself be guided to lie down. Oyuki shifted with her, hovered above her, then she grabbed the blanket that had been carelessly pushed aside and threw it over them.

With a toothy grin, she shuffled downward.

And pushed Atsu’s legs apart.

Atsu inhaled slowly and stared down at her. She lifted her hands off Oyuki to grab at the bedding beneath her instead, wet fingers curling into the dense fabric of it. Oyuki was slithering beneath the blanket, eyes locked onto hers while her hands worked to pull Atsu’s layers open.

“Oyuki,” Atsu said, almost in warning—though it was halfhearted.

“What?” Oyuki said with a slight shrug and a smile. “I’m cold.”

With that and with Atsu’s robes now pushed open, Oyuki tugged the blanket over her head and disappeared beneath it. She settled herself between Atsu’s spread legs, and Atsu forced her gaze back up at the mismatched wooden ceiling above. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled sharply when something soft kissed at her mound, soon joined by something wet that wiggled up between her folds and then swirled around her most sensitive spot.

One hand rushed under the blanket to grab hold on Oyuki’s loose hair, while the other stayed curled in the bedding. And when those lips closed around her arousal, she allowed her eyes to close and her attention to be fully devoted to the woman between her legs, rather than partially distracted by any sound outside these walls.

In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to let herself drift in Oyuki, Oyuki, Oyuki…

Outside, in the distance, a wolf greeted the moon with a howl.

And Atsu, unaware, answered in a breathy moan shaped around a fox’s loving name.