Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kahaku learned what love was through novels. Even as a kid, anytime he was in town he went searching the libraries and bookstores for romances, enamored with the idea of true love. It was a magical thing, the love between a man and a woman, and how they’d do anything to be together, loving one another unconditionally. Romance was his escape from the real world, as it showed him for the first time what love of all different kinds was since he didn’t get much from his family. But why would he? It wasn’t their love he needed. Kahaku’s entire reason for living was for Fushi, a deity that needed help being raised into divinity. Worship was the way Kahaku first learned to adore the holy warrior. 

In the past, the girls of Hayase’s line had been taught that love and other such emotions came from Hayase herself, who was reborn within them. Yet Kahaku knew that wasn’t true for him; she may be there somewhere inside his body, but he couldn’t be the one to bear Fushi’s child, and that had to be disappointing to her. It was disappointing to everyone else, afterall. But Kahaku could still serve Fushi, teaching them everything they needed to know in order to become truly divine. Kahaku adored Fushi through both the stories his family members told and the ones he read. Anyone sane would have said such adoration was obsession, as love usually didn’t come from religion and worship, but to Kahaku, it was all simple devotion and servitude. 

The years went by, Kahaku grew up, and finally he was led to Fushi. It wasn’t strange meeting the immortal for the first time in the slightest, as he already knew everything there was to know about them. He found speaking to Fushi as natural, remaining unphased even when they lacked much interest in him. This was to be expected, though, as Fushi was holy, something above human concepts like worship. That aspect-- their divinity and meaning to the world-- was also something that still had yet to be properly taught to them.

With a great deal of luck on Kahaku’s side, the Guardian Force embarked on their travels with Fushi. As they went, Kahaku began to feel that there was something more lingering underneath his feelings of servitude, something that threatened to well up in his throat. But he dismissed it, as it was most likely just another facet of his devotion surfacing, a fire that had already been burning set aflame even higher when in the holy warrior’s presence. Fushi was the way Kahaku would end his life, after all. He would die serving them, and then be reborn, preferably as someone his family could be prouder of; someone more useful to his lineage. 

Reasoning the feeling away worked for a time, because it was the only logical answer he could deal with while pushing it into the far corners of his mind, until Fushi began to take on the form of a lithe, purple-haired woman. The flame that had been burning swelled up to something that Kahaku finally recognized as what he had read in so many novels: 

Love. 

It was love he was feeling, something that he had unconsciously smothered with the wrongness of it all. Fushi’s voice was sweet in that form, her features soft and curved in the right areas, and it made Kahaku swallow layers of emotions he wished he didn’t have to deal with. They were overwhelming, and burned in his throat. Surely it wasn’t right for him to love Fushi, as usually they presented themself as a man, and yet Kahaku couldn’t stop. It was simply right for Fushi to look that way, and it was right for Kahaku to feel his heart flutter at her smile. Fushi even fell in love with a doll and carried it with her everywhere, reassuring Kahaku. Dolls were, after all, something only girls liked. 

The more they travelled together, the more Kahaku had to stomach the feeling of something hot and twisted roiling in his stomach each time he was in her presence. Love had never felt so sickening, leaving him disgusted with himself. Yet he couldn’t help but scramble for the feeling, stealing every glance of Fushi looking so beautiful. And not only was she beautiful, but she was kind, too. She hadn’t let Kahaku or the Guardian Force take the blame for the Nokker attacks, and even though they had failed in keeping her from being captured by Prince Bon, she kept Kahaku alive. That was kindness, wasn’t it? 

The curious thing as well, was that Fushi was so different from what Hayase had written about. Kahaku knew he had to teach Fushi to keep her in-line with the Guardian’s will, but he often found that he couldn’t. Fushi was her own being, as simple as the statement sounded. Though it was one of the two main duties of the Guardian Force, Kahaku had yet to see that Fushi was a dangerous god that people needed to be protected from. Her eyes intently absorbed new information, her wonder dazzling and inexperience with horses surprising but amusing. She snapped, her glares searing, but her smiles were one of the sweetest things Kahaku had ever seen. And so unlike a god, she ran away from death, broken by the prospect of even just one person that she couldn’t save dying. Fushi was someone still learning about the world, desperate to take on everything humanity couldn’t. 

Kahaku caught himself slipping, twisted feelings growing with his desire to serve, but also wanting to reach out and take. To take the friendship he could not have with her-- the friendship she didn’t want-- and mold it into something that could fit into the Guardian’s will and Fushi’s own desires. He wanted to protect her humanity and serve her forever, the two of them entwined. It was what he was born for, afterall; what his ancestors had wanted to do for over two hundred years.

So Kahaku did the most logical course of action when faced with such love, and found the opportunity, seizing it.

He proposed.

Despite everything that had been told to him as a child-- that he was otherwise useless to the lineage as a man-- if Fushi was a woman, then it would be natural for Kahaku to feel something other than worship for her. The heat of his cheeks would be justified, the need for Fushi’s child possible. Everything Hayase and the Guardian Force wanted… It was his duty, his reason for living. It was possible, this love was possible. It didn’t matter what Fushi looked like, Kahaku could love all of them, hold and kiss them, teach them everything about love, feel and touch everything with them, and help them see a path to divinity along the way. Even when Fushi vomited at his touch, Kahaku trembled and wanted, wanted, wanted. He wanted to have true love with her, even though he was repulsive, even though some part of his mind wasn’t right.

It took Fushi revealing what had happened to the form of the purple-haired girl for the rosy veil of love to flutter away. Fushi hated Hayase. His ancestor who he held his entire belief system upon had killed a young woman who was with a child, cutting off her head. Hayase hadn’t been a good person, unlike what the scriptures and history had Kahaku believe. 

After the encounter and being led away in embarrassment and shame, doubt in Hayase’s teachings began to fester. Kahaku set aside the Guardian’s symbol he wore around his waist, folding it somewhere out of sight. It felt wrong to wear it after all that he had learned. Then he stepped down as leader of the Guardian’s, ready to disband them-- now not just a failure to his family as someone who couldn’t give his family an heir-- followed by Fushi being declared a demon, a result of his failure to protect them. 

And yet… despite all that, Fushi still wanted him around. With a golden smile and voice filled with determination, Fushi declared she still needed him. 

And whatever the immortal desired, he would do. 

His life still had a purpose.

That old excited feeling crept back up into Kahaku’s chest, festering and growing until he couldn’t contain it anymore. The delight and scandal of such love-- even though it twisted him with how wrong it was, how his family would despise him-- expressed itself in nervous laughter he hid behind his hand. Whatever he was feeling wasn’t mere worship anymore, but that was to be expected, wasn’t it? This crushing feeling was exactly what his ancestor Hayase had felt, and even two hundred years down the line, it nearly brought him to his knees. 

***

Fushi had wanted to be rid of Kahaku long ago, finding his presence-- much like every other successor of Hayase-- irksome.

Fushi had been able to endure the children more, as they weren’t fully aware of their legacy and the risk of the Nokker in their arm yet, while Kahaku and the older girls before him certainly were. It was creepier when an adult grabbed his arm to hang off of it while swooning as well. It was too much like Hayase, and every reminder of her was like a tick at his skin. He escaped from the Guardians whenever he could, and even when he began working with them under Kahaku’s leadership, it was only for the fight against the Nokker’s. 

But when had those feelings changed? When did Fushi start to think within the back of their mind, “Kahaku could help me”? The first time Fushi realized they were thinking that, was as the weight of Renril’s fate began to fall upon their shoulders. Consistently Kahaku asked that they rest, worried that they were pushing themselves too far, but Fushi had simply brushed him off. They were tired in the beginning, but could easily ignore it. As the battle came nearer, though, fatigue truly began to settle in. 

Fushi had felt exhausted before, but this was a different kind of exhaustion. It was the kind that wore away at the mind and the energy in their limbs, making it harder to find motivation, even when the risk of thousands of people dying were at stake. They began to realize with a tightness in their chest as the workload grew: had anyone else but Kahaku expressed any concerns about them? Were they overdoing it?

They didn’t know; they just knew what Bon said versus what Kahaku said. Bon believed they could do the work, that it was necessary and they were strong enough to uphold the burden. Kahaku protested that they were wearing Fushi down, slowly but surely. 

But that wasn’t true. Fushi was strong, and everyone needed him. Bon, Fushi, Messar, everyone in their group needed the townspeople’s trust so the children could continue playing in the streets and the elderly could die knowing peace was upon the land once more. This wasn’t about Fushi, it was about the people, and whatever burden he felt… was a necessity. 

And yet, ultimately, Fushi concluded as the battle was days from beginning, he was selfish. 

He was selfish for beginning to feel that he was breaking apart, so helpless against the weight of the Nokker’s impending attack. This burden was nothing, nothing, and yet… Why…?

Why was Kahaku there, a gentle smile against his lips, trying to coax Fushi to relax? To eat, to sleep, like they were human? 

One such interaction consisted of Fushi trying to pull away, protesting with, “I can’t. I can’t stop working.”

And Kahaku replied gently, “Fushi, I promise that you will feel better after you eat and sleep a bit. The work will still be there for you in the morning.” 

His voice remained soft even though Fushi was acting like a toddler who didn’t want to nap; except there were much bigger stakes than naptime at hand. 

“Bon doesn’t want me to wait until morning. Working like this means I’ll be finished sooner anyway,” Fushi replied, but the reasoning felt weak even then. 

Still, Kahaku didn’t push the matter any further. Instead, Fushi began to hear Kahaku arguing with Bon, which would often bring Messar into the argument as well. The arguments were nothing more than spats that barely lasted a minute, and neither party got anywhere with them. But why was it such a point of contention? Fushi didn’t understand Kahaku in the slightest. 

But then again, it seemed like Fushi didn’t understand a lot. At least Kahaku had gotten better about being too overbearing. Not perfect, but better.

When Fushi collapsed during the battle for Renril, between the spaces of their exhausted mind, they were simply aware of a thought creeping into their mind: I want Kahaku. He’s warm.  

It wasn’t right to want that; they knew it was wrong, but they were clutching the threads of their own sanity, every extension of their mind thinning, and Kahaku was the only one who had shown any signs of caring. Wasn’t that terrible? Perhaps everyone cared for them in their own way, but Kahaku was the only one who clutched at their sleeve to rest, and he was the one who sent Eko out to lure them in for dinner. Even when Fushi and the others berated him for interrupting the workflow, Kahaku didn’t let up on his insistence that Fushi needed rest.

Maybe it was selfish to want a break when so many people were scared and dying, but for once… 

Fushi didn’t care. He didn’t care that the other’s had tied Kahaku up for seemingly betraying them; he just wanted Kahaku to see the state he was in and help. Everyone, the citizens and his allies, were slowly wearing him down: Bon was hiding something, every reassuring word out of his mouth a lie. He wasn’t someone Fushi could go to for help. They didn’t trust Bon to take their exhaustion seriously, to not just say that they were strong enough and could keep going. The immortal soldiers were killing themselves like it was nothing-- and friends would not force each other to kill and bring them back to life. Fushi was exhausted having to constantly revive them, and she could feel so much of the city in pain, including each life that was being snuffed out, sometimes in droves, sometimes as a lonesome speck. 

So seeking out Kahaku who was already aware of their exhaustion, and asking for his help only took a nudge, of rambling unsteadily and finally saying in a clipped voice,

“I want to take a break from everything.”

Kai tilted his head. “You… Want a breather?” He asked, sounding a bit confused by the idea.

Kahaku pulled forward against his bindings, immediately fumbling for a solution. “H-hey! Why don’t we have a meal together?” He smiled, breathless at the suggestion, eager to do something. He hardly cared about himself: Fushi needed help. 

Fushi needed him. 

Plastering a smile onto his face, Fushi beamed. “Ha ha, I’m just letting off some steam. Forget it! I’m sorry I said anything at all.”

He waved goodbye before forming at the Booze Man’s home, blood spilling from his nose, his muscles aching. It was the only time he had ever been desperate for help from one of Hayase’s descendants, but Kahaku was loyal to him, head over heels, and Fushi would use that. 

Collapsing against the counter, they waited.

***

It took about twenty minutes of laying in the dark for the door to open. Fushi wasn’t overly surprised about the state Kahaku arrived in.

Covered in blood and groceries in hand, the man eagerly hoisted Fushi up from where they sat at the bar and led them upstairs; although “dragged” was a more appropriate term. Fushi didn’t resist, though. Kahaku was giggling with delight at the idea of making dinner, even while he was soaked in gore. Dropping the groceries, he helped Fushi sit at the dining table, when he realized he had smeared some blood on them in the process. He giggled a bit again, this time in embarrassment, and tried vainly to wipe it off while apologizing. Fushi merely shifted into the form of Mia. 

“It’s alright,” she murmured. “You… You should clean yourself instead, Kahaku.” 

“Oh no, it’s alright! I don’t want to waste anymore time in getting a meal prepared, you know,” Kahaku smiled, waving a dismissive hand. “You did call me for that, after all!” 

As Kahaku laid out the ingredients he needed, Fushi tilted their head up to the ceiling. Heaviness began to settle in their chest again, an aching realization that the people of Renril were at a standstill with the Nokkers. Her fingers twitched from where they fell by her side. 

“Messar, Hiro, and Kai are down,” she murmured. “Should I call them back?”

“Oh no, not yet! I don’t even have dinner ready!” Kahaku exclaimed. “No, they’ll be much more willing to stay once there’s a good meal in front of them. Besides, they haven’t been doing a very good job at taking care of the Nokkers recently. I think you should talk to them about that; their recklessness is wearing down on you, isn’t it?” 

Fushi didn’t say anything to that. There wasn’t anything to say. She didn’t have the energy to defend the immortal soldiers for their work, because she was getting tired of them: her supposed immortal friends. 

Kahaku started dinner. 

Fushi studied Kahaku and the blood that painted his shredded cloak, watching red droplets splat against the floor, and how he stained vegetables the same way. Even his footprints were left behind, their color a deep red. Did Kahaku realize how filthy he was? Did he care? His mind seemed to be in another place, kicking into a strange form of coping or denial. Maybe the battle was getting to him as well. Or perhaps that’s what being tied up for twenty-four hours would do to someone. It could be any number of things, really. 

Fushi looked away, staring at the wall in front of himself. Somewhere in his vision, he could see images of the battlefield, of Nokkers landing in various blocks around the city. It hurt to neutralize them, his mind straining past its limits.  

“I am sorry for what my Left Arm did, Fushi,” Kahaku said, breaking the silence. He turned around to set out utensils for their future guests. “Really, I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I would never turn on you, but no one listened to me! Kai wouldn’t let me free peacefully either. He taunted my Left Hand purposefully after I said I wanted to help you.” 

Fushi shifted back into the form of the Nameless Boy. He closed his eyes. He should feel regretful that Kai had died because he had reached out to Kahaku for help, but… He didn’t. Really, it probably was partially Kai’s fault for antagonizing the Nokker in such a way. Fushi hated themself for that thought, though. It wasn’t right to blame Kai like that. 

“Fighting amongst friends is a waste of my valuable time and energy,” Fushi eventually replied tiredly. “Please just… be sure to make up for it later.” 

A shudder went through Kahaku’s body as he looked up. He walked towards Fushi’s exhausted form, his smile trembling. 

“You-- you said friends?” 

He placed a blood-coated hand against their shoulder, his heart stuttering with some breathless joy when Fushi didn’t flinch away. His fingers swept across their cloak, leaving streaks of blood as he asked hopefully, 

“You aren’t afraid of me, then, Fushi? Are you sure you even still want me as a friend? Everyone else seems to want otherwise, after all.”

Fushi looked away, their chest beginning to feel even tighter. 

Afraid? Maybe that wasn’t the word they’d use. But there wasn’t any assurance of safety with around Kahaku either, as stable as he had been so far.

“There can’t be any peace without trust,” Fushi whispered, trying to speak with fraying conviction. “I… I have to make the case myself.”

Any semblance of remaining put together fell apart when a wave of pain went throughout the city, sending Fushi sagging forward, a wet and rasping breath punched from their lungs. Kahaku knelt down, concern overtaking his excitement for a brief moment. Kneeling there, he studied their exhausted expression and how their lips trembled with each breath. 

Fushi had frequently boasted the inability to get physically tired, but even though they could shift forms to give each body a rest, their mind remained the same. Fushi didn’t understand those mental limits, what with having a following of people believing they were a deity of unlimited power. Kahaku was once one of those people-- and perhaps he still was to some degree-- but he also saw the fragile edges, the ones Fushi tried to conceal. 

Kahaku took one of their shaking hands tenderly into his own and spoke as gently as he could. “You’re tired. Not your body, but your mind. You keep so much of yourself concealed, but I’m begging you, Fushi: Please don’t hold back, and speak your mind honestly. I want to finally be able to understand you,” he implored. 

Fushi’s eyes widened, their breath hitching. They couldn’t look at Kahaku. Not yet. But they felt their fingers slowly wrap around his, clinging onto them with no small amount of desperation. They shuddered, whispering,

“My mind…? Honestly…” 

He tilted his head up past the boards of the ceiling, and something inside his mind finally snapped, unspooling rapidly at the edges. “I just want this all… to come to an end.”

The words were squeezed from his chest, and Kahaku’s expression melted into something understanding. He stepped forward and grabbed Fushi’s shoulders firmly.

“Don’t worry, then. I’m going to protect you from now on,” he reassured warmly, unable to contain the delight that filled his voice.  

His fingers trailed up from Fushi’s shoulders and up to their hair, combing through white strands while leaving streaks of blood. Fushi didn’t react at first, their expression frightened and empty, their mind somewhere else until they felt Kahaku’s fingers against their skin. They looked up to meet Kahaku’s eyes as they overflowed with adoration, his fingers curling down to Fushi’s chin. They held each other’s gazes, Fushi’s breath trembling.

“I love you,” Kahaku whispered, just before leaning forward to capture their lips. 

It wasn’t much of a kiss, the gesture fleeting and light, but Kahaku was warm, and Fushi was cold. They gripped the edge of their seat, and when Kahaku pulled back, their faces remained close enough to breathe upon. 

“You think you love me?” Fushi croaked. He wasn’t certain those of Hayase’s line were capable of love. Obsession with possession, maybe. But with Kahaku there, holding his face and smiling so warmly, it was tempting to want to believe otherwise, even if it left them with a rotting feeling that spread through their stomach. 

“Of course I do,” Kahaku replied. “And I love you as just Fushi,” he said, nuzzling his face against their cheek, eyes fluttering shut in contentment at having Fushi all to himself in his hands. 

“...Oh.” 

Fushi didn’t know what to say to that. Kahaku didn’t seem to care, smiling again as he gathered Fushi into his arms, hugging them close. Fushi didn’t return the hug, but he sank into Kahaku’s embrace, tears welling up in his eyes.

He squeezed them shut, and with it, everything else out. 

***

Messar, Hiro, and Kai hadn’t been thrilled about dinner or to see Kahaku making said dinner while covered in blood and prancing free. They tried to leave and resume their duties on the battlefield, only to sit back down immediately when Fushi demanded they stay seated and eat. Fushi didn’t even need to look at them. He just bit out the order between bared teeth, and they listened.

Kahaku himself didn’t eat. He merely stood at the head of the table and watched them pick through their food with a smile. Dinner was awkward and silent, and probably tasted a bit like Kai’s blood. When dishes were collected, the immortal soldiers silently got up and left. Fushi was only a little sorry to see them go, especially Messar, whose eyes were still haunted. Hopefully he didn’t try to immediately throw his life away in combat.

Left alone by themselves again, Fushi felt helpless, not sure where to go next. Upon seeing their expression turn far away, Kahaku sat next to them and curled his fingers around the bloodied strands of their hair. 

“It’s dirty,” he said. 

It was just a statement. Nothing more. 

Fushi could have easily been rid of the gore with a simple change in body, but they didn’t. They simply looked at Kahaku tiredly, wanting nothing more than to fall in his arms and be held. It had been a long time since they had felt an easy touch like that. They missed Gugu and how easily he had laughed, hugged, and wrestled with them. Rean, and how she was so understanding and made Gugu fluster. They wanted Pioran back and the way she could teach them about this strange world. Fushi missed the faint memory of the Unnamed Boy and the way he would hug them, his nose buried in their fur. And then Booze-Man, March, Torani…

He missed them so… much. 

Following those bittersweet memories, those people who were kind despite all their flaws, it felt awful wanting to be held by Kahaku, both because of the thought of Hayase lingering behind every touch, and because Kahaku would also soon die. Fushi did, wretchedly, consider Kahaku a friend, and death was inevitably what happened to everyone he loved. 

“Fushi?”  

They were pulled from their trance as Kahaku cupped the side of their face, expression soft and sympathetic. 

“You were spacing out. Are you alright?” 

Fushi found themself leaning just a bit into Kahaku’s palm, barely managing a nod in response, overwhelmed by Kahaku’s eyes taking in every bit of their face. Kahaku’s heart was beating with erratic excitement, delighted by how compliant Fushi was being underneath his touch. His fingers twitched to run over their skin, over their lips and down the lines of their throat. Just briefly, he allowed his thumb to brush over a pulse point at their neck. He bit down hard on his lip for self restraint. 

“Do you want me to clean your hair?” he asked, not in the slightest ashamed for being the reason there was blood now in it; it was a sign that he had declared his love and devotion, a sign that Fushi was willing to be touched by him. 

Fushi didn’t respond immediately, eyes flicking around helplessly. The city was still in torment, the smell of gunpowder sharp, and the mass of bodies pressing against one another in fear, threatening to tear one another apart just at a chance of getting away, still lingered in visions behind his eyes. 

“I… I don’t know what I want,” he admitted hoarsely. “I don’t…” 

Kahaku drew his palm away. “That’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” 

He stood up, leaving Fushi chasing after the warmth of his touch. Kahaku went up to the third floor, and came back shortly after with a bowl of water. He placed the bowl on the table and wrung out a cloth over it. Standing before Fushi, he took a deep breath and let his fingers run through soiled strands of clotted blood, his nails snagging on tangles that Fushi didn’t even flinch at. 

“How long has it been since someone has cared for you?” Kahaku asked, separating the mess into something easier to work with. 

Fushi looked down at him, yellow eyes watering. “Pioran,” they whispered.

The form of the old lady. Kahaku smiled. “Well, I’ll do what I can. You don’t have to be afraid to ask for anything, Fushi. I’ll give it to you, whatever you want.” 

He squeezed the cloth around some of their hair, gently pulling, easing the blood off. Kahaku raked his eyes over Fushi’s lips, their collarbone, and yellow eyes that were slowly losing focus as he worked. Moving on instinct, Kahaku felt his free hand cup the nape of Fushi’s neck, swiping a thumb over little hairs there to cradle them sweetly. He gently eased Fushi’s head to look up at him again, watching in delight as Fushi held their breath, looking at him with a broken expression. Kahaku had to stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth before he did something unsightly, not wanting to ruin the fragile moment being held between them. Maybe his grip at the back of Fushi’s neck was tightening with the effort it took to restrain such want, but Fushi didn’t wince or complain, so he didn’t stop. 

Fushi let out a breath, staring up at Kahaku’s ruby eyes sparkling in the candlelight. They felt a part of themself melting into the warmth of the palm against their neck, trembling to feel more of Kahaku’s fingers smoothing against their skin, and down the ridges of their spine. Even though Fushi wanted to pull his mind away from everything and not be anything at all, some human part within wanted Kahaku to hold his face again, to run his lips over their forehead and cheeks, to feel fingers stroke through their hair, snagging harshly over tangles, and cage them in with warm breaths. 

Fushi gasped when the hand at his neck trailed to the base of his skull, tipping his gaze farther up, closer to Kahaku’s chest and face. Fushi wanted to close his eyes and hide in embarrassment, but he couldn’t, instead choosing to stare up at the beams of the ceiling, frozen in place beneath Kahaku’s fingers. The cloth continued to squeeze and twist gently through their hair, Kahaku dipping it in the water before wringing it out. Pale stains were beginning to mark the fabric. Boneless, Fushi fell completely into his hold. Kahaku bit back a grin at the weight that dropped into his hands, but was unable to stop the blush lighting his face on fire. His heart thumped in his chest as he pushed wet bangs from Fushi’s face. 

“I’ll do anything you want, Fushi,” Kahaku wanted to say again, over and over, rattling the immortal, until he was back at their knees, this time in prayer, with Fushi’s hands cupping his face as he knelt there in reverie. 

Kahaku stepped back, folding the washcloth over the edge of the bowl and pulling his hands away from Fushi. He shuddered when Fushi followed his retreating touch, and he bit down harshly on his own tongue. He hoped he drew blood. 

“I think we should get ready for bed,” Kahaku managed, before he tried anything else. 

***

Sleeping through the night was fruitless, but Kahaku had insisted that Fushi at least take upon the act of lying on the futon and closing their eyes. Fushi didn’t even attempt to make a different form for themself outside in the city. He had meant it when he said he just wanted everything to end; He couldn’t stand the scenes of burning embers and hordes of people screaming in pain, running to escape, and children being left behind in a cloud of smoke and gunpowder. Fushi couldn’t die-- not fully-- but it made him wish he could. 

Laying on the mattress, they could sense Kahaku in the corner, tending to some wounds if the little ebbs of pain coming from that area were anything to go by. The battle hadn’t been nice to him, and neither had their allies. At the thought, Fushi hugged his arms around his chest and curled up. Tightly wound in the fetal position, he stroked the strands of hair that curled at his nape, still feeling as if blood was lingering there: Kai’s blood. Remnants of Kahaku cradling his face and kissing him sweetly. 

Fushi had never been kissed like that before. Perhaps the statement was obvious, but to them, it was a sudden revelation. They knew of kissing vaguely from Gugu mentioning it, seeing people do it during their travels through cities over the centuries, and the novel Kahaku had given them, but that was the extent of it. Kissing was a thing other people did, not something people wanted to do with them. Kahaku wanting such love was strange. Fushi could understand him wanting marriage more, as the Guardian Force had been after something similar for years, but not love with kissing and fluffy feelings. 

Truthfully, Kahaku had wanted to understand Fushi, but Fushi barely understood Kahaku. 

Turning over, Fushi stared at Kahaku’s back, the other with his shirt lifted up, spreading cream over bruises. Fushi felt their fingers twitch from the light pangs releasing with each gentle press Kahaku gave against his sore skin. The minutes went by, and finally Kahaku pulled his shirt down before turning around. He paused, their eyes meeting. 

“Oh. Is there something you need, Fushi?” he asked kindly, as if Fushi hadn’t just been staring at his back absentmindedly. 

Fushi shook his head. Kahaku smiled. 

“Alright, then. I’m going to try and sleep as well, but if anything happens, I’ll let you know.”

Fushi doubted that. Kahaku was good at detecting danger even when unconscious, but if anything happened and Fushi truly was asleep, he would choose not to say anything in order to let them rest. Not like Fushi really could rest in a situation like this, though. But just to appease him, Fushi nodded and turned back over, pulling the sheets over his head. Kahaku lay down on a nearby mattress, and within minutes was asleep. He was probably exhausted as well, what with being tied up the entire day. 

Fushi stared at the wall, their mind drifting away someplace unpleasant, until orange beams of sunlight lit the room. 

***

Fushi had been worried that after such displays of affection the other night, Kahaku would become an overbearing presence, but he didn’t. The promise to protect Fushi had been just that; a thing to say and reassure. And it worked. Stupidly, the words had worked. Fushi now had someone he knew cared for him and had sworn to do so with a deep sense of love. He knew that someone could remain reliable on the battlefield, as Kahaku still went out to fight the Nokkers like he had before. Fighting was one of the most useful things he could do for everyone, especially Fushi, after all. He was likely the most capable warrior out of everyone.

“I’ll be out with the others by the church, Fushi,” Kahaku said after they woke up together in the bedroom, smoothing his cloak down his body. Fushi had made him a new one after the other was found to be unsalvageable from the shredding and dried blood. “But if you need anything, you’ll find me, won’t you?”

He smiled knowingly, and Fushi nodded. Some irrational part of them wanted to ask Kahaku if he could take away all the pressure squeezing around their heart. They were sure somehow he could find a way. 

Instead, Fushi sat behind the bar, spreading their fingers across the surface with a deep breath. 

“I’d advise you to not listen to whatever your Left Hand tells you. I can’t afford to have you out of the battle again or to have our allies preoccupied dealing with you.” 

Kahaku nodded his head fervently, always eager to appease, even now at the discretion of the Nokker in his arm. “Of course! You can count on me, Fushi!” 

Fushi still wasn’t certain they could despite warm touches and heartfelt promises that previous night, but chose not to say anything. 

Kahaku eagerly bid goodbye, and ran out the door. 

***

It was nighttime. 

Bon, Messar, Fushi, and Kahaku stood looking down upon the city. It had been a week since the attack began, and everything was at a standstill. The Nokker’s hadn’t made any progress, and neither had the humans, which subsequently meant Fushi was failing. Kahaku didn’t let them think such things, immediately grabbing their face and saying how wonderful they were the first time Fushi miserably spilled those words, but the pinched look on Bon’s face and the scowl on Messar’s seemed to say otherwise. 

Kahaku had a contemplative expression as he observed the city currently, something far too casual for once again being covered in the guts of Nokker’s and blood from Hiro requesting Kahaku kill him just thirty minutes ago.

“It’s clear the Nokker’s won’t stop multiplying,” Messar bit out, rubbing his brow. “The people are restless. With their boredom and precarious food and water situation, they may not last another week.” 

“This is the harsh reality of sieges,” Bon replied solemnly. “We’re prepared to hold out for months if necessary. The people will have to find a way to strengthen each other.”

Messar grit his teeth. Fushi looked down at their feet miserably. 

Pissed off at the dismal atmosphere, Messar spun around on his heels and jabbed a finger into Kahaku’s chest. 

“You,” he snapped. 

Kahaku moved aside his hand with a mildly offended expression. “Yes, what is it? No need to shout, you know, I’m right here.” 

“I wasn’t--” Messar cut himself off and took in a deep breath. “Whatever. Has that thing in your arm said anything yet? I bet it’s mocking us right now, huh? Telling you all the wrong things.”

Kahaku protectively put his hand over his arm, holding a steady glare. “Actually, I haven’t been listening to it, as Fushi requested. So I really couldn’t say.” 

Messar scoffed. “How sweet of it to stay quiet, then. Whatever. I guess we’ll just have to keep brute forcing through the Nokker’s until we have a breakthrough.”

There was a bitter pause.

“Fushi…” Bon hesitated. “I hate to ask this of you, but is there any way you could try reaching out just a little farther? There must be a way to stop them from getting closer to Renril’s borders.” 

Before Fushi could open their mouth, Kahaku stepped in front of them defensively. 

“Don’t you think he would have already tried that? He’s trying his best; it’s you all who are failing in keeping up.”

“Why you--!” Messar exclaimed, stopped only by Bon holding up a hand to silence him while keeping a steady gaze down on Kahaku.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Kahaku, I really do. But Fushi has expanded well beyond the border before. Surely you can do that again, can’t you?” he asked them.

Fushi hesitated, eyes darting from Bon, to Kahaku, who was glaring fiercely at the prince. 

Theoretically, yes, they could. But expanding even just another inch would mean that he would have to keep reaching, as there would never be a way to stop the Nokker’s unless the whole world was covered in his vines. This one request from Bon would turn into another, which would turn into more. And spanning the world would require concentration they just couldn’t spare with the way all of Renril was in pain, and the Nokker’s being unrelenting in their attacks. Even now a small fraction of Fushi’s attention was out to the east, drowning a horde of Nokker’s in lava. 

“I… I don’t think I can. There’s no way to defeat the Nokker’s completely like that unless I have coverage over the entire world,” they explained. “I’m sorry.”

“But surely--”

“Fushi,” Kahaku interrupted sharply. 

They looked up, tired eyes meeting Kahaku’s kinder ones; they for kind to him and no one else. 

“Let’s eat,” Kahaku urged, taking Fushi’s hand to tug them along towards the house. 

“Wait,” Bon reached out, a frown on his lips as he grabbed Fushi’s other gloved hand. “We’re not done here yet. We can’t afford to move away from the battle right now. Come morning I’m sure everything will be better and we can take a rest then.” 

Kahaku smiled and pulled Fushi closer towards him. He replied as pleasantly as he could manage, “You’ve said the same thing before, and yet you let Fushi collapse on the wall when he was clearly tired. I really think you ought to listen to me instead.” 

“Fushi,” Bon pressed, ignoring Kahaku and staring at them with a silent begging. “Please, the people need you. I know you can do it.”

Fushi’s trembling lips curled into a shaking smile. “Know?” They whispered a tad hysterically. “You know?” 

At Bon’s confused look, Kahaku said,

“The people will always need him. That will never change, not even when this battle is over. If Fushi says he can’t or won’t do something, then he won’t. Can’t you see you’ve already been pushing him too much? Did you not learn your lesson?” 

He ended snappishly, which he really shouldn’t do; their allies already didn’t like him, and he shouldn’t push how much further they would go from tying him to a chair if he messed up again. Luckily Bon didn’t seem to hold the same grudge Messar did, who was glaring daggers.

“I did learn my lesson, and I won’t let Fushi push himself like that again, I promise,” Bon said firmly. “Fushi, you would tell me if you felt like passing out again, wouldn’t you?” 

Fushi shifted uncomfortably, as that was the problem. 

He wouldn’t. 

“I… I want to go with Kahaku,” they managed to croak out. “I want to rest.”

Smoothing his expression away from something smug, Kahaku nodded and bowed his head. “If that is what Fushi wants, then he will come with me. The people will be fine. You two won’t let anything happen, will you? Just try not to keep dying, Messar,” he smiled. 

The man scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He tilted his head towards Bon. “Let’s just go. Maybe Fushi does need his beauty rest. He’ll be useless if we push him too much again.”

Bon, although clearly reluctant to leave, retracted his hand and left. Kahaku looked down to notice Fushi staring after the pair with a torn look. 

“Come on, Fushi,” Kahaku urged gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make us a nice meal.”

It took a moment, but Fushi nodded, shifting into the smaller form of Oopa. Kahaku felt his heart soften, loosening his grip on the girl just a little bit. They walked to the house, Fushi pulling away as they walked up the stairs to the kitchen. Kahaku was relieved to be in the kitchen again, to be alone with Fushi after the last three days required otherwise of him. As he went to the counter, he was tugged to a stop. He looked down. 

“You… Should clean off, Kahaku,” Fushi said. “Before we eat.”

Kahaku had to smother a feeling of breathless joy that threatened to tear out of his chest at the sound of Fushi using his name. His smile brightened. 

“Oh, of course! I will be right back, Fushi. Just sit here.”

He guided them to sit at their usual seat next to Eko’s, and gave another reassuring smile before running off. He removed his cloak and changed his outfit into something looser, dampening a cloth to wipe off his face and hands. He couldn’t do much about the grime in his hair until he was able to draw a proper bath from outside; hopefully that would be alright with Fushi.

He went back downstairs to see the form of the Nameless Boy collapsed against the table, a nosebleed running steadily from his nose and dripping onto the surface. Kahaku flustered around for a cloth to wipe it up. After cleaning the table, he came to Fushi’s pale face and stopped for a moment, his hand hesitating. 

“Fushi,” he began gently. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

It was a question he was trying to make a habit of asking. Fushi watched their own fingers twitch from where they lay against the table. He couldn’t even get his eyes to drag up to Kahaku’s. 

“I… I just feel… so… much,” he whispered. “I can’t get it to stop. It’s not as bad in here, but… I still feel everyone.”

Kahaku hummed, gentle hands cupping their chin. Fushi felt themselves being lifted, just slightly so that their head was off the table. Kahaku held him there, wiping away the blood from his nose. 

“Well, you’re here with me now. You’re inside Booze Man’s home, and I’m about to make dinner. It’s alright that you’re feeling strained, but you don’t need to focus on it; I’m taking care of you now.”

He smiled, and Fushi stared, their breath caught in their throat. They felt themself leaning into Kahaku’s touch just a little bit, the warmth of the other’s fingers spreading through their cheeks, the touch feather-like and healing. Kahaku wanted to stay in the moment forever, Fushi soft and compliant in his hands, looking up at him with eyes that pleaded for some sort of release. Kahaku hummed with a little smile and nuzzled Fushi, just briefly, against their forehead. His breath breezed over the skin there.

Pulling away, Kahaku gently sat Fushi back up from their prone position on the table, holding the base of their head so it didn’t immediately flop back down. 

“I’m going to make us dinner now, alright?”

Weakly, Fushi nodded. Kahaku was excited to make dinner for Fushi a second time while they were in the kitchen with him. Usually the immortal was out somewhere else and doing everything they could to skip meals. But now, again, they needed dinner as a release from reality. They needed Kahaku. 

Kahaku nearly turned around and seized Fushi into his arms for the keeping at the thought; to cradle them there forever with a grin, to keep them safe in the warmth of this foreign thing called “love”. He steadied himself, though, and picked through what vegetables, meat, and wrappers they had left. 

He rolled out some leftover dough until it was thin, packing strips of chicken and vegetables into it. He squished the wrappers shut and let them simmer on a pan before dishing them out on a shared plate. It was quick and flimsy, but it was something as the food supply was being rationed. 

He set the plate before Fushi with a smile.

“Dinner’s served!” He said cheerily before sitting down as well.

“...Thanks.”

Fushi made no move to eat, though, so Kahaku took his chopsticks and picked one up, holding it out to them. 

“Now, let’s not be like that! Eating will make you feel better, I promise. Just try a bite, and then we can rest somewhere else if you’d like.”

Fushi didn’t have the strength to level Kahaku with a glare. They summoned their own pair of chopsticks in hand and took the one Kahaku held out. They ate it. Kahaku hoped he didn’t look too disappointed when Fushi didn’t eat it from his hands. He was sure, though, that he saw just a little bit of a glimmer come back into Fushi’s eyes upon eating the dumpling. They ate it in two whole bites, and Kahaku pretended not to notice when Fushi went to eat another one. 

They sat in silence together, Kahaku pleasant and content as it grew. The atmosphere was better up in the kitchen than it was in the darkness of the first floor where Fushi had kept his station. It was better for Kahaku to steal looks over Fushi’s tired expression that still weathered on their face. Kahaku had to pinch his fingernails into the palm of his hand to keep from reaching over and grabbing them. 

He ate a fourth dumpling. Fushi ate their sixth, before setting down their chopsticks. The city rumbled, the glint of fire out in the distance. Fushi reached a tentative hand out to clutch Kahaku’s cloak, whose breath hitched. He looked down at Fushi with wide and glimmering eyes. They didn’t look at him, their eyes remaining downcast. 

“I want to do something else,” they whispered. “I don’t know what, but…”

It was a plea for help, a plea for Kahaku to do something for them instead. Kahaku immediately stood up, clutching Fushi’s hand tightly. 

“O-of course! Let’s--” he looked around urgently for something to distract them both. “--Let’s go upstairs.”

Fushi nodded. They didn’t look as if they had the energy to stand up, but Kahaku took their hand and guided them up from the chair. It took all of Kahaku’s being to not clutch his chest at the feeling of his heart pounding, delight lighting his eyes at being the one who could touch Fushi, hold their hand and soothe them. He led them up the stairs where lights had yet to be lit. 

Fushi stopped walking. Kahaku looked back. 

“...Thank you. …Kahaku,” they whispered. “For, for listening.”

Kahaku clutched their hand tight. He smiled even as Fushi flinched, a breath punched from their lungs. 

“I love you, Fushi. You won’t be alone. Not ever,” he promised firmly. 

Fushi looked down at their hands, Kahaku soiling them with his own impure touch. But he didn’t let go, because he couldn’t. He was holding on to Fushi: pure, loving, and fragile Fushi. Fushi who wanted nothing more than to help everyone and to have others be happy. Kahaku wanted to take all of that and capture it in a bottle, keeping it safe, shielding it from harm. 

So he kissed them. 

Fushi made a noise in the back of their throat, something that sounded strangled, but Kahaku pressed further, unwilling to give up. 

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Fushi’s lips barely parted at the kiss. They barely moved, their body stiffening. Maybe the kiss tasted like blood since it had been all over Kahaku’s face. Maybe it tasted like the dumplings they just ate. Kahaku gasped into the kiss, trying to hold Fushi close, for them to know a semblance of the love he held for the immortal in turn, the ever-turning feeling reciting over and over again I will die and love and care and protect you forever and ever. 

And no one else but me can do that. 

He didn’t care if Fushi hated him for that. Kahaku was cradling and preserving the love Fushi had; he was keeping Fushi safe from a world that wanted to use them. Kahaku wasn’t a pure being in the slightest; Fushi was probably hating him right now, but didn’t they love humans and all their flaws? Kahaku was all of that, corrupted from birth and twisted in the mind. 

He shoved his tongue past Fushi’s lips, pulling them close, hoping to feel something, something melt, something loosen within them. 

And eventually Fushi did go slack. 

Their fingers curled helplessly into the fabric of Kahaku’s cloak, feeling how Kahaku breathed into their mouth, gasping and desperate. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but they tried to pull away once for breath, and when Kahaku followed, they didn’t attempt to move away again. Fushi squeezed their eyes shut at the feeling of Kahaku’s tongue running over his dried lips, tasting salt. Kahaku nuzzled against their cheek, smiling before pressing another chaste kiss there. Fushi felt something rotten curl within his stomach at the thought of the white-haired boy who had died with a fevered complexion and breaking smile being used like this. He hated that he liked this, a strange romantic gesture humans enjoyed to show one another a certain type of love. Fushi hadn’t understood the pleasure before, and now that they did, they didn’t even know how to kiss back. They just took what Kahaku was able to give.

Eventually Kahaku pulled away, panting. Fushi looked up at him with wide eyes, but he wasn’t running away. He was still clutching Kahaku’s arm from the kiss. Kahaku smiled, bright and brimming over the edges. 

Fushi’s knees felt weak. They clung onto Kahaku, the only way they were still standing. 

“I--” 

They tried to say something, but choked on their words, and their grip around Kahaku tightened even more. Being in Kahaku’s presence was overwhelming, so much warmth emitting from him. The puffs of cozy emotions didn’t feel light and fluffy like it did from others though; it held weight to it, energy that could not be properly contained, buzzing and electrified. It was wrong; it wasn’t right. But Fushi couldn’t bring himself to walk away. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with gentle hands and smiling lips. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything,” Kahaku assured when Fushi was silent for a little too long. 

Fushi nodded. 

They didn’t say anything at all, letting Kahaku lead them away wherever he wanted.