ONE SHOT VI.

( relaxing. )

As days pass by, Chōsō's only reassurance of his brother's status is the fact that he knows he would feel it if Yūji were to die. It's not something he likes to dwell on, aware his little brother has survived without him there for years, but it nags at his mind, sometimes.

Yuki shoots him a look, and he relaxes his frown. His heart skips a beat, again, like it tends to do whenever his companion comes into the picture. It's getting worrisome.

"So," she starts, making him look at her. He notices Tengen doing the same a few meters away from them. "Go Fish?" And, as if to emphasize her point, she waves the deck of cards in her hand.

Tengen sighs―not that Chōsō blames them, considering how many times they've played―but shrugs and nods anyway. He does the same, and soon enough the three of them are in a circle.

The dealer's Yuki, this time. Seven cards each, and the game starts.

"Yuki, do you have any threes?" Tengen asks, and Yuki clicks her tongue, annoyed at their accuracy. She gives them two cards and looks away when they recite their thanks, throwing the first book of cards to the floor.

"Lucky bastard," she mutters, although a smirk has taken its place in the curves of her lips.

Tengen chuckles. "Hm, I've always been."

Chōsō is, as always, completely lost with the treatment Yuki gives Tengen, and the cordial one she receives in turn. Mostly because both sound mocking and he just can't deal with the amount of passive aggressiveness combined.

After Go Fish, they play Thirty-One, War and Garbage, all games Yuki's taught them during the long hours of waiting. Apparently, even richii mah-jong and shogi can get boring. They've played karuta, too, much more than any other game, but after the blonde had found a disregarded classic card deck, they've been switching it up a bit.

Chōsō's playing another round of go with Yuki when they hear a triumphal shout from a few meters away.

"Old man! Are you okay there?" Callous, maybe, but Chōsō likes that about Yuki, too.

A scoff follows. "Indeed. I just found an old friend of mine."

Tengen comes into view with a bamboo flute, and Chōsō cannot fathom, for the life of him, how that's supposed to be an old friend of theirs. There's no cursed energy coming from the flute. Maybe Tengen's years are getting to them.

"Pfft," Yuki laughs. "You should be careful what you call friend, old man."

Tengen doesn't bother replying immediately, but rather, walks around until they find a cushion to sit, and once their ass is sat, they go: "Once you reach my age, there aren't lots of friends left, and you start viewing life differently. A young one such as you could never hope to understand, and it's my hope you never do."

Chōsō's never been much for the philosophical life, but he has to admit, Tengen does sound wise. However, he still can't understand the fact they've just called a flute their friend.

"Stop it with the crack, or whatever you're smoking, your health isn't what it used to be," Yuki snorts. "Better not risk it even more."

Tengen sighs, but doesn't answer the obvious provocation in her voice, and Chōsō admires them more for it. He's not sure that he would be able to ignore Yuki, no matter the circumstances involved.

The moment Tengen starts playing the flute, the world seems to stop. Chōsō's never heard a more beautiful melody, nor one more peaceful. He crosses eyes with Yuki, who scoffs and rolls her eyes in a way that lets glimpse the fondness she hides for the Barrier Master.

It makes Chōsō's heart skip.

It's strange. But, as seems to be the case whenever Yuki's involved, it's not a bad kind of strange. He likes the way she makes him feel, even though he still feels alien in his own body when he realizes it. He likes the kisses they share, and the smiles she gives him afterwards, and how he cannot get enough of it all.

And, most of all, he thinks he likes her. He doesn't know how yet, or if he has the capacity for something deeper, more meaningful, but at the moment―he's enchanted, and he's found he quite likes it.

"I win." Yuki declares, a bored tone in her voice. "Chōsō, come on, you haven't paid attention the last round, have you?"

Chōsō can't deny it. "I have been distracted, that is true. It is repetitive to play the same game for such a long time."

"Ah, you're right." She shrugs, and they both stay silent for a few moments, Tengen's melody in the background. "Hey, come here for a second," she commands him, and he goes, curious. "Let me play with your hair for a bit."

Chōsō doesn't say no, and positions himself just in front of her, heart rate rising up when her hands start undoing his hairstyle. "Sure."

It's fascinating, how her hands gently swipe through his hair, detangling it, playing around with it ever so carefully, her movements carrying a tenderness he hadn't known she was capable of.

And it's strange and alien, how despite how fast his heart is racing, and how much there's an energy coming from him demanding to just do something, this is the most relaxed he's ever been.

Chōsō's never known peace. He's let himself dream of it, often in moments of solitude, and the image in his head has always been of him and his brothers, all together in an outing, free of responsibilities and cults and wars; just them, together in a time when they can laugh and joke around, and play in the forests without sorcerers trying to pull them into their tedious conflicts.

This couldn't be more distant. He's not with his family, barely with two people who, despite their friendliness, he's met fairly recently; he's not outside, surrounded by nature, but rather in a closed space controlled by one of its residents.

However, at this moment and time, with Yuki playing with his hair, and Tengen's beautiful flute composition hanging in the air, he stops for a moment and knows, just knows, that this is peace. The first taste of it he's ever got.

This would be the perfect moment for an attack, Chōsō thinks. And maybe that's true, or maybe that's just his paranoia acting up the moment he lowers down his guard. Still, he doesn't let it ruin the moment.

"What's got you smiling?" Yuki asks, curious.

Chōsō's got nothing to hide, so he tells her. "I would like to share this moment with my brothers," he says. "They should experience peace like this, too."

Yuki hums, but doesn't respond, and Chōsō opens his eyes, unaware of when he'd closed them. He turns around and looks at her, and for a moment, the smile in her face strikes him like lightning on a storm.

You're beautiful, the words come to his mind without meaning to. Yuki's always been beautiful, aesthetically speaking. Blonde hair and magenta eyes, her features seem to be carved from stone, scars only adding to her person, at least from his point of view. But that's something he's always known.

Why does it feel different, now?

He wants her to keep playing with his hair. Chōsō wants her to keep her hands on him, in whatever form they might do it. He wants to keep her close, and keep admiring new ways to see her.

"Would you share me, too?"

Her tone indicates she's, again, playing around with him. Asking him a question that hides a joke only she's aware of, and it grates him, not to know what game she's having so much fun with, but he's also become used to it. She does it often enough, after all.

This time, though, the question gives him pause. Would I share you? With who, with my brothers?

Imagining Yuki playing around with Eso, Yūji or Kechizu is one thing. Imagining her getting into their space like she does with him, kissing them in the corners of their mouths, teasing and somehow, at the same time, not teasing at all, it's different. It gives him so many conflicting feelings: because he would like them to know her, of course, but the moments he considers theirs, the new feelings arising in his chest because of her, those he doesn't want to share.

"I would like for you to know them," he answers, thoughtful. "But I would not want you to become for them what you have become for me."

An amused chuckle leaves her mouth. "And what have I become for you, pretty boy?"

He knows the glint in Yuki's eyes is because the answer he's given her has let some of his true feelings show, but Chōsō can't find it in himself to feel ashamed about it. Doesn't understand why he ever would.

"I do not know yet," he's honest, as always. "But I would like to discover it."

Because it's weird, but interesting, and it's starting to feel like being reborn again. Like he's living for the first time, even though he's always been alive.

"I see."

He wants to keep being by her side. Even though it's silly, and they're only here because they could be attacked at any given moment, and they definitely shouldn't be relaxing out in the open.

But Tengen keeps playing the flute, and Chōsō closes his eyes, Yuki's ministrations on his hair pulling him under. He's aware the world's not so kind to let him live in this peace forever. That the conflict's escalating and he's not guaranteed to come out of it alive.

But, for now, this is a piece of heaven he'd never thought he would know. And it's enough.

(It has to be.)