Chapter Text
Hundreds of legends from years long past which had been passed down through poems and songs spoke of the depth of the woods that surrounded the kingdom. Many of those songs Makoto could perform from memory, the lyrics sitting at the front of his head, even though he never cared to believe in them. His lyre’s strings vibrated with ancient warnings of venturing in too deep, in case one should be unlucky enough to catch the attention of a sleeping god, while other hymns declared that the risk was worth it –– that there were miracles to be found in the densest parts of the woods where the thicket blocked out the sun and time seemed to stand still. Both kinds of tales were surely fictional –– stories meant to add some flavor to the doldrums of existing.
Kotone never saw the stories that way, though. Whenever she listened to Makoto play, she hung on every word with rapt attention, tucking the stories close to her heart. So, when their close friend Shinjiro had fallen ill, Kotone had foolishly packed her bags, deciding she was going to venture into the woods that people seldom walked back out of, all in the hopes of finding a miracle cure within the old barren trees.
It had been a last resort. Yukari, the local healer, had softly admitted there wasn’t any medicine that could help Shinjiro once she’d examined him. Shinjiro was rather close with the captain of the royal guard, Akihiko Sanada, who contacted Princess Mitsuru Kirijo, asking her to use any resources available to her to find a cure. But even the power of the crown was helpless against a body’s decay. While many suggested to Kotone that she should sit around and pray to the gods for mercy, Makoto had never known her to be so passive. It was hardly a surprise when he caught her sneaking out that night –– and he had already decided not to let her go alone.
There was one song Makoto had learned from their mother so long ago, right before she passed. It spoke of a bed of lilies –– a bright spot in the middle of the darkest part of the woods. It was said that if one plucked a lily from that bed and returned with it, they could give life to whoever consumed it.
On the advice of lyrics that were generations old, the twins were purposefully wandering as if hoping to get lost, where it was so dark Makoto couldn’t see Kotone behind him. Only a few hours into their journey, they’d decided to hold hands so as to not get separated.
Hour after hour of walking in the silence was weighing on Makoto’s mind, but if Kotone wasn’t ready to quit, then he wouldn’t either. He couldn’t stand to crush what hope she had remaining, straining with each step to catch a glimpse of something, anything…
“Makoto…” a breathy voice came from over his shoulder, just as he was about to suggest sitting down and making a camp. “Look.”
There was a soft light just ahead of them, coming from a patch of ground undisturbed by trees. Makoto felt a strong tug on his arm, and before he knew it, Kotone was sprinting ahead, dragging him behind her and laughing freely. Makoto nearly stubbed his toe on two different tree roots before they finally came to a stop in front of a field of perfectly-manicured white flowers, which glowed all on their own like moonlight.
“I knew they were real,” Kotone whispered. “I just knew it. He…He’s going to be okay. We’re going to save him.”
Makoto held out his arm and let Kotone drape her bag over his shoulder. She knelt down gently, bowing her head and running her fingers along the soil around the strange plants, as if offering up a prayer. Then, she reached forward, and plucked a single flower. When she held it up for Makoto to see, it was clear that it was the plant itself which was producing light, pulsing with an unknown power from petal to stem.
“I can’t believe it,” Makoto said.
“You’d better believe it!” Kotone countered with a grin. “They were really here, just like the song said. These woods…maybe they really are home to the gods.”
“If there really are gods here,” Makoto said, reaching for Kotone’s free hand. “Then we need to run home as fast as we can.”
“ ...stop.”
An icy voice, thin and immaterial as the wind around them but with all of the strength of a monsoon, suddenly cut through the dark. Makoto stumbled as he turned around, letting go of Kotone’s hand in the process. In the small glow of the flowers, he could see a figure emerging from the nearby trees –– a woman dressed in black, with a torn dark veil over her head that concealed her features. She approached Kotone slowly, and on instinct, Makoto stepped in her way, shielding Kotone from her.
“You have stolen from this sacred place,” the woman said. “Miracles cannot be obtained without paying a price.”
Makoto stumbled back on instinct, nearly bowling over Kotone, who was holding out the flower with a shaky hand.
“I didn’t mean to steal it!” Kotone said. “We…I mean…I didn’t know this flowerbed belonged to anyone. This is just a misunderstanding.”
“Your intent is irrelevant. The price must be paid.”
Makoto felt Kotone step out from behind him, staying close at his side but no longer cowering in his shadow. Makoto ached to tell her to pick a direction and run, but his terror had frozen him in place.
“...what sort of price would it be?” Kotone asked, her voice only wavering a little. “We have some money…if that’s what you need.”
“I have no need for money,” the woman said, her voice never changing. “Keep the flower. Now that it has been plucked from where it stood, it will not grow roots again. My price is this –– the thief will be a gift for my son.”
“Wh-what?” Kotone stammered. “A…gift?”
“No deal,” Makoto said firmly.
“You are in no position to negotiate,” the woman said.
“...what would it entail?” Kotone asked.
“Kotone, no ,” Makoto said, grabbing her hands and holding them firmly in his own. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I won’t leave you to the mercy of some random guy in these creepy woods.”
“My son dwells in a mansion not far from this garden,” the woman said. “He is restless. If his restlessness were to impact his work, it would be inconvenient. You must satiate his desires as penance.”
Kotone’s hand was shaking. He would almost hear the sobs she wasn’t letting free building in her chest, stirring around and filling up her heart with a bitter, salty ocean. When she found her words again, Makoto knew what she would say. She would tell him to run back to their village with the flower, to save himself. She would be the hero, like always, throwing her own safety away carelessly for the chance to make someone else’s life better. She would reduce herself to “a gift” in some crazy lady’s bullshit deal.
“I’ll go,” Makoto said, letting Kotone’s hand drop and stepping closer to the cloaked woman. “Take me to your son, and let Kotone go. Make sure she takes that flower and gets back home safely. I’m the one who told her about the flowers…through a song that I played, long ago. So…this is my fault.”
“No, it’s not!” Kotone yelled, her tears finally overflowing and trickling down her cheeks. “You didn’t even believe in it! I…I dragged you out here, s-so you can’t…”
“Very well,” the woman said. “I will reveal your path.” The woman’s voice thundered around the trees and echoed every which way. Kotone shivered next to Makoto, her sobs still audible underneath the howling winds. Makoto couldn’t even tremble, weighed down by the choice he’d made. As the woman’s voice finally settled, Makoto watched in shock as a trail of small lights appeared, each pinpoint shining like a star in the heavens, weaving a path back the way they came.
No human could do something like that, Makoto said. So…who did I just make a deal with?
“You have each been provided with a path to your destination,” the woman said, her voice once again silent and sharp. “Follow them and you will not lose yourself to my darkness.”
Then, as quickly as she’d appeared, the woman vanished. It was only then that Makoto noticed his own diverging path, stretching further into the darkness and ending about one hundred feet away, at a section of a tall metal gate. Kotone noticed as well, stepping closer to him and drawing in a quick breath.
“Makoto…” Kotone managed to say through her sobs.
“It’ll be alright,” Makoto said. Maybe whoever I’m being given to will just want me to play songs for him all day, or something like that.
“I…” Kotone said, wiping her eyes. Their paths were glowing brighter, almost like a warning. They looked like they could fizzle out at any minute if they tested that woman’s patience. Makoto didn’t doubt that without guidance, they would get lost and die within the woods. It meant that their goodbye would have to be tragically short.
“Kotone…”
“I’m going to come back for you!” Kotone declared, standing up straight and holding the flower close to her chest. “I promise. I’ll find someone who can navigate these woods, and we’ll bust you out. So…no matter what…you have to stay alive until then. P-Promise me!”
Not able to say a word, Makoto captured Kotone in a hug, holding out one pinky finger for her to grab with her own. Kotone let out a humorless laugh as Makoto’s promise to live was cemented with a pinky swear. Then, with great hesitation, Kotone turned around and began to follow her path. In no time at all, she had disappeared into the black, possibly for the very last time. Makoto tried not to think about it and focused on moving down his own trail.
With each step, he wondered how his life could have all gone so wrong so quickly.
Makoto shifted on his feet with no small amount of uncertainty as yet again, his knocking on the grand doors of the mansion went unanswered. He figured it was very possible that they hadn’t been heard at all, given that it was such a large house that seemed to be completely abandoned. There were no lights to be seen in any of the windows, and the stones that led up to the entrance were covered with moss and discarded lily petals.
Figuring that Kotone’s safety depended on Makoto’s willingness to uphold his end of the bargain, Makoto steeled himself, then reached for the door handle, despair shooting through him when he realized that it wasn’t locked. That meant he’d probably have to just invite himself in to find out what sort of hell he was in for. So, with a deep sigh, Makoto pushed open the door, which squeaked loudly as it granted him entry to a dim, dusty hallway.
Once Makoto was inside, he closed the door behind him to avoid letting in a draft, then dropped his pack to the floor, suddenly realizing how exhausted he was from carrying it. His supplies clattered within the confines of the cloth, the noise reminding Makoto that though he was alone, he was not empty handed. Though he couldn’t very well start a fire in the middle of the foyer, he had his flint and steel, which he could use to light a lantern or candle if he was lucky enough to come across one.
He kicked off his shoes, more for the relief than out of any sort of desire to adhere to houseguest etiquette. In doing so, however, Makoto couldn’t help but notice that there were no other shoes in sight. In fact, he couldn’t hear a sound from the nearby corridors and the rooms that branched off of them. If the house was indeed occupied, its owner could only be hiding somewhere deep in the house.
Makoto took a moment to rummage through his things, pocketing his flint and steel and digging to the very bottom for his small, sharp hunting knife. Then, he slung his pack back over his shoulder and dared to press forward into the house, tracing the hall of the foyer with his hands to map out the house in spite of the darkness. If he was lucky, then the house would be abandoned and Makoto would only have to find a place to rest and escape when he’d gathered his strength and the coast seemed clear.
Turning a corner, Makoto stepped into a large room that looked to be some sort of grand lounge, at least from what he could make out with a lot of uncomfortable squinting. He felt his way blindly to a large table and was relieved to find two candlesticks sitting on top of it. Taking the longer one, Makoto quickly lit it and picked it up, gazing around the room for any sign of life. It seemed he was still alone, though it didn’t escape his notice that there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. That probably meant that even if no one was home, the house was not abandoned, and the “son” Makoto had traded himself to was bound to show himself at some point.
With his small light in hand, Makoto walked out of the study and back down the hall, passing a kitchen, a grand-looking library, and a hallway filled with a few identical bedrooms. Makoto was just about to travel up the staircase to explore what made up the other floors, when he heard some sort of movement from nearby –– a rustling of leaves. Whipping around and cradling his candle close to his chest, Makoto stared down the one hall he hadn’t explored, finding himself unwilling to take another step in any direction.
There was a chance it had just been the wind, or some wild animal running through the dense carpet of plants outside the house. But after a moment, Makoto heard another rustling, and then the sound of a door opening. The scent of soil and fresh flowers wafted through the air, perhaps from an indoor garden or greenhouse that stood at the end of the dark hallway. Whoever had been gardening was approaching.
But Makoto was no intruder. If he was to be a gift…his presence couldn’t be a surprise. Figuring that Kotone’s safety could very well depend on his compliance, Makoto took a second to find his voice, and then finally broke the silence.
“Is someone there?” he asked.
His answer came in the form of a cold gust of wind that smothered the tiny fire giving Makoto direction and chilled him to the bone. Now lost in the darkness, Makoto took a step back, straining his ears for any sign of movement. There were no footsteps to be heard on the old wooden floor, nor any sounds of breathing other than his own. Makoto stared down the darkness all the same, waiting for some sign of life.
“Hello?” Makoto asked the darkness.
There were no sounds of human life. Makoto was beginning to think he’d been duped by a sudden storm which had rustled some leaves and pried open a door. Carefully and quietly, Makoto reached into his pocket for his flint and steel, striking them together just to produce a spark –– a moment of clarity that would reveal that he was alone after all.
Click.
As Makoto struck the stones together, that small flash of light revealed a horror that clenched onto his soul and squeezed, hollowing him out of everything except for a primal terror. Inches away from his face was a large monster with a silver mask and arms large enough to crush Makoto’s head like a melon. It hovered above the floor silently, its eyes empty and dark and its sharp-toothed jaw in position to rip apart flesh.
Makoto couldn’t even scream. He couldn’t yell or cry or do much of anything. His hand went limp and his flint and steel dropped uselessly to the ground, the sound they created when they hit the floor stunning Makoto into action. He did the only thing he could do and ran for it, stumbling through the dark and feeling along the walls, desperate to make it to the front door before the monster caught him.
There was no way to know if he was being followed. The beast made no sound and there wasn’t a hint of light into the house. Makoto ran down a hallway, turned a corner, ran right into a shelf covered with assorted trinkets and sent it crashing to the ground, surely covering the rug with broken shards of things he hadn’t had the time to examine in their completed state.
He couldn’t remember the final turn he had to make. He took a left, then yanked open the first door he came to, ready to feel the relief of earth underneath his feet…only to find himself in a small bedroom. Makoto’s heart sank at his misfortune, but there was no time to backtrack. Doing so would lead him straight into the jaws of the monster. His only choice was to go on the defensive and stay alive by any means necessary, just like he’d told Kotone he would.
His own breaths drowning out the rest of the world, Makoto scrambled to find a wooden chair, shoved it under the doorknob to hold it in place, and then, upon finding it with some difficulty, managed to do the lock. With shaking hands and wobbling knees, Makoto set down his pack once again, unsheathed his knife, and held it out towards the door, every muscle tense.
He stayed there for what must have been hours, but the door never rattled. Either the monster had disappeared, or he was waiting for Makoto to lower his guard. Not being eager to figure out which was the truth, Makoto stayed on guard until his consciousness left him and he collapsed to the floor from exhaustion.
The sun never rose.
When he first startled awake and quickly remembered his surroundings and situation, Makoto finally allowed himself to explore the room that had become his prison. There was a comfortable bed pushed up against the wall, though it didn’t look like it had been used recently, if at all. An empty wardrobe sat in the corner next to a large window with bars affixed to the outside. It was through that window that Makoto first noticed the strange looking sky. When he’d been separated from Kotone, the layer of trees above had been too thick to see the sky properly, but from his window, he could see a golden full moon, hanging above an unnaturally green sky. That view had not changed for what felt like three days.
Makoto had gone two nights without food and he was starting to think the rumbling of his own stomach might give away his hiding place if he didn’t eat something quickly. He was supposed to survive for Kotone, but he was at a loss for the best way to even go about that. Would he be okay for much longer holed up in the bedroom he’d chosen as his hideout, behind a flimsy barrier? He didn’t know. There was also no way to tell if there was any food at all in the kitchen he’d seen, as he hadn’t had the foresight while exploring to check inside any of the cabinets.
There was no choice but to brave the hallways once again and hope he was able to find sustenance and escape without encountering whatever it was he’d thought he’d seen a few days prior. So, armed with nothing but his knife, which he knew was unlikely to even deal a scratch to the beast, Makoto removed the chair and unlocked the door, padding quietly out into the hallway with wide eyes and pricked ears.
Makoto felt a pit form in his stomach as he took in the hallway, immediately noticing that something had changed –– the candelabras on the walls of the hallway were lit. That could only mean someone had walked right past his hiding place while Makoto was passed out. It was an unsettling thought, but one that was quickly swallowed by the tempest of hunger roaring in his chest.
With no other option but to tiptoe to the kitchen and hope to escape with some food, Makoto started down the hallway, his fear growing to meet his hunger as he noticed more and more candles lighting his way. It should have been a comfort, as the increased visibility would prevent that monster from sneaking up on Makoto, but there was also solace to be found in the ignorance the darkness brought. Makoto fought his impulse to blow out every flame that he passed, but eventually found himself in the mansion’s kitchen.
Knowing he would have to be quick, Makoto ran toward the first food that he laid eyes on –– a bowl of blood-red fruit sitting on a counter. Makoto exhaled in relief, knowing his mission was halfway complete. He took three of the fruits into his arms, leaving one untouched on the counter. He would survive for Kotone, even if it meant sleepless nights in an empty room. Even if it meant sneaking around a monster and never letting himself relax. He wouldn’t leave her alone. He wouldn’t let her cry over him.
He only had to make it back to the room before he could finally eat, but even waiting one more moment seemed like torture. Letting his hunger fully overtake his fear, Makoto grabbed a kitchen knife and cut the fruit on the counter in half, finding the inside of it familiar. A pomegranate. Picking up one half of the fruit, Makoto eagerly brought it to his lips.
“Don’t.”
A gasp released itself from Makoto’s throat as a scratchy, echoing voice cut though the silence like a poison arrow. The shock of the word’s impact made Makoto jump, shifting the fruit in his hands and sending three of his prizes crashing to the floor. One of the pomegranates rolled across the stone floor, further and further away from Makoto’s hold until it stopped at the feet of a tall, dark figure, hovering in a cloud of shadow. The candles in the kitchen flickered, like their light was being snuffed out by the mere presence of the monster.
Makoto stumbled back, feeling his heart thudding in his chest as he gripped the fruit in his hand tighter, tighter, tighter, as if he were holding his own soul in his hand. He could see the monster better in the light. There would be no pretending that the vision he’d had before was a nightmare or apparition. The creature in front of him was inhuman and deadly, and he was only a few paces away from Makoto.
There was no time for thinking –– he had to survive. Makoto made a run for it, bolting out of the nearest open door and biting aggressively into the open half of the fruit as he went, sending the juices trickling down his chin and staining his neck with red. He hungrily drank up the juices even as he ran for his life from his pursuer. With the house lit up by candlelight, he found the front door easily, and though he was sad to abandon his pack, which was filled with both supplies and sentimental items such as his lyre, his survival was more important.
Grabbing the lavish handle to the door, Makoto gave it a mighty tug, but the door didn’t budge an inch. He frantically checked for a locking mechanism, but found nothing. He pressed his whole weight against the door, but still, it wouldn’t even shake under his weight. From around the corner, Makoto saw the shadow of the monster looming, and had no choice but to abandon the front door, letting his feet carry him back to the shelter he’d made in the guest room.
Makoto made no attempt to be quiet as he slammed the door behind him, locked it, and shoved the chair back into place. The monster had seen him flee. It knew where he was. Hiding was no longer an option –– they were at war. After hungrily devouring all of the seeds from the one piece of fruit he’d escaped with, Makoto stomached the skin and bitter flesh as well, choosing to power through the bitter taste in the hope of deriving the most nutrition possible from his prize.
The juice stained his hands, which trembled around his knife as he stood and waited for the monster to break down the door. Once again, Makoto waited on the other side of his flimsy barrier, fighting off sleep until eventually, he lost himself to it. His final thought before his consciousness left him was a quiet apology to Kotone for being so much weaker than her. He wished he never picked up his lyre and sang her some silly old stories. Any joy they had brought seemed so trivial, in the end.
And, in many ways, so did his life.
When Makoto woke again, it was to the sound of a timid knock. As he jolted and jumped up to his feet, Makoto held out his knife in hands still stained with the previous-night’s meal. It hadn’t sounded like the knock of a monster. But it could easily be some sort of trick.
“Um…hello?”
The voice wasn’t familiar. It was low, curious, and most importantly human . His mind spinning, Makoto pocketed his knife, replaying the words in his head, as if he were re-affirming to himself that he’d actually heard them.
Makoto slowly approached the door, holding out a hand to snatch away the chair he’d wedged underneath the knob to keep it shut. It was paltry defense against the monster who was roaming the halls, so surely whoever was calling to him was someone else. If it was another poor soul who had been locked away in the house as a “gift” for that monster…then Makoto supposed he needed to help them. Cautiously and quietly, Makoto slipped the chair away from the door and brought one eye up to the crack.
He couldn’t see much detail through the tiny opening, but whatever figure was standing on the other side of the door, they looked to be tall, but still human-sized. Drawing in a quick breath, Makoto yanked the door open. On the other side was a wide-eyed young man, who looked to be about his age, with bright blue eyes and a striking yellow scarf. Some small part of Makoto’s heart sighed with relief. He hadn’t realized how comforting it would be to be face to face with another human after three lonely nights evading the beast.
“Come in,” Makoto hissed. “Quickly.”
“...r-really?” the boy in the scarf asked. “It’s…okay?”
“Yes,” Makoto snapped. “Get in here before that monster comes back.”
“Monster?” the boy echoed. But Makoto was too busy shoving him inside to respond, shutting the door quietly behind him and replacing the chair where it had been before. He waited for several moments, listening intently for any sound of the monster approaching, but heard nothing. All was quiet in the house.
When he had deemed the coast clear, Makoto turned around to face the other boy, who was staring at him with an intensity Makoto couldn’t match even if he tried.
“Are you trapped here too?” Makoto asked the boy. “I didn’t think there were any other humans here.”
The boy’s mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out, and he seemed to reconsider his words, closing his mouth and swallowing. If his story was anything like Makoto’s…maybe he’d been searching for his own sort of miracle cure, the details of which were personal. Or maybe his crime was something far greater than plucking a flower.
“...yeah,” he finally said. “I’ve been trapped here, alone, for a really long time.” The boy shifted on his feet, looking rather…awkward, if nothing else.
“And you’ve evaded that monster all this time?” Makoto pressed. “How?”
The boy’s eyes went wide again, darting all over the room as if he expected that very creature to be eavesdropping and was taking each move he made into consideration. He almost looked afraid, like talking to Makoto was something more daunting than running from the beast made of darkness Makoto had encountered twice and didn’t care to again.
“...I’m not…w-well…” the boy said. “S-Sorry, I’m not very good at this. Talking, I mean. Um…what I was going to say is that…the um…monster you saw isn’t hostile. If you want to be left alone, he’ll leave you alone.”
Makoto wasn’t sure what to make of that comment. His host looked plenty monstrous to him, and Makoto had just enough self-preservation to not find out if the creature had the ability to strike up a conversation with him.
“This isn’t what I came here to talk about,” the other boy mumbled. He stood a little taller and finally managed to meet Makoto’s eyes. “How exactly did you end up here? People don’t just show up at this house. I’ve been here long enough to know that with certainty.”
“Probably the same way you did,” Makoto said, his voice tight. “I’m paying the price for a miracle. My sister…she was searching for something to save our friend’s life. But once we found the flowers we were looking for…a lady in a dark cloak showed up and demanded payment. She said one of us had to go with her to be a gift of some kind.”
“You spoke with Nyx?” the boy asked, his voice raising in volume.. “...ugh. I should have known.”
“Nyx?” Makoto repeated. “But she’s…”
It was a name he recognized –– the name of a goddess. Night incarnate. The maternal being to a plethora of dreaded gods and monsters. If Makoto had really spoken to the being sung about in so many tales…then it was quite possible that the supposed “son” he was meant to be a gift for and the monster roaming the halls of the mansion were one and the same. Makoto had to wonder if Nyx had said he was to be a gift for him when what she had really meant is that he was meant to be a meal.
“She’s…?” the boy prompted.
“...not real,” Makoto finished. “I…thought that she wasn’t, anyway. But that was before I made a deal with her and saw that monster. I’m pretty sure I have no choice but to believe in all those songs about the gods now.”
The boy nodded, his gaze still flitting nervously around the room.
“All I know is that I can’t stay here,” Makoto said. “I have to know that Kotone is alright. She’s…the only family I have left, and…I promised her that I’d stay alive for her.”
“You want to leave this place,” the boy said, his face somewhat disappearing into his scarf and muffling his voice. “O-Of course. That’s what anyone would want. But…I don’t know if it's possible.”
Makoto pushed his bangs out of his eyes, feeling his brow furrow.
“The front door wouldn’t open for me last night,” Makoto said. “I was able to get in a few days ago, but it was tightly sealed.”
The boy nodded, his expression grim.
“I’m afraid brute force will do nothing to loosen the seal on that door,” he said. “The windows are the same. This place cannot be escaped through traditional means. I’ll do what I can to help you to adjust to…living here. But that is all I can do for you.”
“Have you tried to escape before?” Makoto asked.
“...not really,” the boy said. “B-But, it isn’t so bad. It’s a nice house, and I have everything I need here. It’s just…”
The boy swallowed visibly, shrinking away from Makoto and inching ever closer to the bedroom door, like Makoto was some sort of monster and he needed an escape route.
“...it’s lonely…” the boy said, his voice almost a whisper.
Makoto resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Unlike Kotone, Makoto struggled with the whole “making friends” thing. Most found him too quiet, too blunt, or too odd to get to know, and he certainly wasn’t practiced when it came to actively seeking out connections. But having an ally on his side was a boon he couldn’t very well not take advantage of. And…Makoto couldn’t help but sympathize with the boy’s loneliness. Even after only three nights on his own, Makoto had begun to crave human connection with the same urgency as the rumble in his stomach.
“...we can stick together, in that case,” Makoto said, as if either of them really had a choice in the matter. “I’m Makoto Yuki. I don’t care if you just call me ‘Makoto’.”
“...Makoto,” the boy said, a smile twitching its way onto his lips as he tested out the name. “Makoto. It’s a lovely name.”
Makoto shifted on his feet, a bit taken aback by the passionate sincerity in the strange boy’s voice. There was a long stretch of silence as Makoto waited for the boy to continue their meeting by providing his own name –– but the quiet continued, and all the while, the boy just kept smiling at Makoto like he was the most interesting thing he’d seen in years.
“Got a name to share with me?” Makoto asked flatly.
“My name?” the boy asked. “Right, of course I have one…it’s…” The boy avoided Makoto’s gaze, fixing his eyes on the bolted window, which showed an impossibly bright full moon rising above the barren trees. “...Mochizuki.”
“Mochizuki,” Makoto repeated.
“R-Ryoji…Mochizuki,” the boy said. It sounded uncomfortable in his mouth, likely from a lack of use. If Ryoji had been on his own, away from civilization for so long, it was quite possible he hadn’t gone by any name in months, maybe years.
“Nice to meet you,” Makoto mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Ryoji beamed, his blue eyes sparkling with delight upon hearing Makoto’s lackluster greeting. Makoto, though grateful for the company, couldn’t conjure up the same excitement. His mind was already putting itself to work, trying to rationalize any way that Ryoji might be mistaken in his assertion that the mansion was inescapable. Surely there was a window that could be kicked open, a trash chute that could spit him out into the thicket, or a magic word to say that would null his deal with Nyx and set him free.
“I can show you around the house,” Ryoji said, fidgeting where he stood and not quite meeting Makoto’s eyes once again. “If you’d like.”
It was as good an opportunity as any to get a good look around his prison, Makoto reasoned. And as scared as he was to run into the monster again, he knew better than to think that sitting idly in the room he’d hunkered down in was anything but a betrayal of Kotone’s wishes. If she was going to come back for him, he couldn’t let her end her journey with an impossible problem that she couldn’t solve. When she strolled up to the mansion to retrieve him, Makoto had to have an escape plan ready. He owed it to her.
“Okay,” Makoto said. “But…the monster…”
“He isn’t here right now,” Ryoji said. “...please don’t be scared. I won’t allow you to get hurt. I promise.”
Ryoji’s eyes carried an intensity that Makoto couldn’t doubt if he tried. So, telling himself it was only for tactical reasons, Makoto nodded and let Ryoji lead him out of the room. It was a good thing to have a partner to plan an escape with, and having someone who knew the monster’s habits would be crucial to Makoto’s survival. And if the boy Makoto happened to be trapped with was as beautiful as a statue carved from marble…that was fine too.
“Makoto,” Ryoji said one day in the library, looking up from what he was reading. It was less a book than it was a binding of scrolls, written in some language that Makoto didn’t know. It was an odd choice in a casual afternoon read, but Makoto felt no read to comment on it. Ryoji was rather eccentric in many ways, but strangely, he always seemed down on himself whenever Makoto mentioned finding something odd about him.
“Hm?” Makoto asked, looking up from his own book.
“...does it…make you happy when we spend time together like this?” Ryoji asked. “Having another person like you to speak with…I hope it's able to ease your loneliness.”
Makoto nodded, making sure Ryoji caught sight of the gesture before letting his face retreat back into his book to cover the confused little smile creeping onto his face.
“Then…it’s a good thing then,” Ryoji mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. “Then it’s okay.”
Makoto turned his attention back to his book, which was a standard sort of fairy tale about a prince locked in a tower who could never see the sun or hear a single note of music. The townspeople knew of the prince’s existence, but had never seen his face or spoken a word to him. Still, they spread rumors about him, scorning him and insisting that he deserved his fate, spitting at the base of the tower and rushing through the night to get to their own warm homes.
He couldn’t help but picture Ryoji as that prince, isolated away from the world and everything he loved. Though such a tale was not about the boy who was quickly becoming his friend, it piqued Makoto’s curiosity about him. For all the time they’d ended up spending together over their past week in captivity, Ryoji had hardly told Makoto a thing about the sort of life he’d had before he was imprisoned.
“Do you miss your family?” Makoto asked suddenly. He heard Ryoji flinch violently as the parchment in his hands buckled and wavered with little crackles. Makoto set down his book to look at Ryoji properly, and was met with an incredibly reserved and uncomfortable expression. Makoto immediately regretted his words. He hated when that very question was directed at him, when strangers heard about the fire that took his parents before they knew anything about him as a person.
“...I’m not close with my family,” Ryoji said. “Sorry…I can’t tell you about…” Ryoji trailed off, toying with the scroll in his hand. “Please don’t ask me about anything before I came here.”
“I won’t,” Makoto promised. “...it can’t have been pleasant…whatever sort of deal you made, to end up as a ‘gift’.”
Ryoji let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, but didn’t say a word on that matter. That was okay with Makoto, though. For all of his quirks, Ryoji’s company was…enjoyable.
“What are you reading?” Ryoji asked Makoto, his eyes suddenly wide with interest in the entirely new topic. “Is it a good story? Do you like it?”
“...I guess,” Makoto said with a shrug. “What about you?”
Ryoji flushed slightly, rolling up his scroll abruptly as if he was trying to hide its contents from sight.
“It’s not a story exactly…” Ryoji said, toying with a strand of his dark hair which had fallen in his face. “It’s research. I’m trying to find a…loophole.”
Makoto raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the issue, which Ryoji looked grateful for. Makoto cracked open his book again, looking to resume the story where he’d left off, but found himself unable to focus on more than a few sentences before Ryoji opened his mouth again with a innocuous observation about their surrounds or a question for Makoto, or even just a little sigh that stole away Makoto’s concentration. Eventually, Makoto gave up on reading altogether and just watched Ryoji scanning his own text, his nose wrinkled adorably as he failed to find whatever he was looking for.
“Cute,” Makoto said, without really thinking about it.
Ryoji looked away from the page, cocking his head to the side in confusion.
“What is?”
Makoto shook his head and directed his attention to the never-changing moon outside of the library windows.
“Nothing,” Makoto said.
After another week of conversations about nothing, strategy meetings about escape plans that went nowhere, and thinking about what Kotone was doing without him, Makoto found himself wound up with days upon days of nervous energy and no good outlet for it. He wasn’t spending every minute of every day with Ryoji, but it had quickly become apparent that Ryoji’s company was something Makoto needed for his sanity, and even craved just on a personal level.
Ryoji was…endlessly thoughtful and sweet. Honest and naive. Warm and alive. Ryoji’s smiles were the only thing that made Makoto forget that he was a captive, just for a brief moment. When Makoto’s mind wasn’t occupied with thoughts of escaping the house, it was caught up on trivial little things, like the glimpse of Ryoji’s neck that Makoto had spotted when his scarf had slipped during a midafternoon nap. The way Ryoji’s eyes almost seemed to glow in the moonlight, so bright like jewels and ever-changing like the ocean. Makoto was sure he could write dozens of songs about those eyes alone, if the idea of such a thing wasn’t so humiliating.
(He had started to draft one already in his mind, but he didn’t dare play a single chord of it, even if the lyrics were confined to his head.)
At Ryoji’s request, he had taken out his lyre one lazy afternoon and found himself carefully plucking the strings, taking great pains to perform well for Ryoji. Makoto was an accompanied musician in his village, so he was able to play a dozen songs from memory without a single misstep, but the fond look on Ryoji’s face was more than enough evidence for Makoto that even if his songs sounded like the pained screeching of a cat, Ryoji would have praised him all the same.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard such beautiful music,” Ryoji said, his eyes remaining closed as he sighed, drinking in the last lingering notes of the vibrating strings. “Is this what it feels like to be truly happy? It…must be. I know it.”
As a fond chuckle escaped his throat, Makoto set down his lyre and scooted closer to where Ryoji was perched about a foot away on the couch, gradually eroding all remaining distance between them.
“You make me happy too,” Makoto whispered against the soft skin of Ryoji’s cheek. Then, he angled his head just so, leaned in, and kissed him. Ryoji made a gasping noise as they made contact, but melted easily into the touch, the way his hands moved to grip the back of Makoto’s shirt betraying the feelings he’d been keeping hidden. Makoto started to bring a hand up, intent on sliding it behind Ryoji’s neck and pulling him in tighter, but before he could, all points of contact between them were lost and Makoto’s eyes snapped open.
Ryoji had stumbled to his feet, his eyes cloudy with growing tears and one hand pressed against his lips. He looked…horrified. Makoto quickly held up his hands, an apology for overstepping Ryoji’s boundaries on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t get a chance to –– Ryoji spoke first.
“No, no, no, no…” Ryoji said. “I didn’t…I didn’t know that you…it was never meant to go this far, I swear. I’m so sorry, Makoto. I’m…so sorry.”
“Are you okay?” Makoto asked. He didn’t dare approach Ryoji in such a state, but seeing him in distress, all the while not knowing if he was the cause of that distress, was too much for Makoto to handle alone. “Ryoji…”
Ryoji shook his head violently, not daring to look up at Makoto.
“...did I read you wrong?” Makoto asked. “I thought that…you might like it if I kissed you.”
“I did,” Ryoji said, his voice short. “It was…incredible…But…I…”
“Ryoji…” Makoto said. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m not Ryoji!”
The words came out in one breath, almost blended together into nonsense as Ryoji heaved through his breaths, staring down at his feet as tears began to form in his eyes.
“...not Ryoji?” Makoto asked. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t think there’d be any harm in it,” he whispered intently. “You were just…so scared. You ran away from me. But… I had to learn more about you. I had to know who you were and how you’d come here. B-But I got selfish, and I started to enjoy it. And then…you…I had no idea that you…”
Somehow, even though nothing made sense, the truth clicked into place as if Makoto had known it all along. Ever since Ryoji had shown up, the monster had made himself scarce, giving Makoto so much “space” that it was like he wasn’t around at all. Ryoji had been bound to the house longer than Makoto had been, but they hadn’t run into each other for those first three days, even though Makoto had explored every room on the first floor and hadn’t heard any noise from above. Ryoji never mentioned his family or past, never spoke about what he wanted to do if they escaped, and had probably, now that Makoto was really thinking about it, named himself after the full moon he’d glimpsed outside the window.
“...Are you…that monster I saw?” Makoto asked Ryoji. “The son of Nyx?”
Ryoji’s stunning blue eyes…his inhuman blue eyes…were wide and glassy. He was shaking his head, but Makoto paid the motion no mind. It was all too clear that he had been deceived.
“W-Who are you?” Makoto asked, feeling his hands turning clammy and freezing cold. “ Where am I? ”
Ryoji looked up from where he was staring at his hands, his eyes full of tears and a deep, tangible regret. But he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away from Makoto, and in a flash of light and a gust of wind, he disappeared.
Makoto couldn’t move for a long while after that, but when he finally did, he brought a hand to his own lips, finding it strange that he still couldn’t quite regret what they had done.
The house was quiet for a very long time, and Makoto was losing his mind. He had lost count of the days he’d been trapped, and there was no way to know if Kotone was safe, if the cure he’d traded his freedom for had been able to save Shinji, or if there was a rescue party on their way. All he could do was sit and stew in the thoughts, worrying about all of those things to avoid having to think about Ryoji.
Or whatever his name really was.
Makoto was long past hiding away in the room he’d taken for himself. With Ryoji, he’d gotten comfortable in the house, never quite seeing it as a home, but as a place they could commiserate with one another –– a place to get their fill of before they eventually got away. So, Makoto made a point to walk from room to room, waiting to run into Ryoji, either in his true form or back in that human disguise of his.
They finally encountered each other after Makoto had grabbed some bread and cheese from the kitchen and took it with him to the library to try to find what Ryoji had been reading the last time they’d sat there together. Instead, he’d found Ryoji there, in his monstrous form. It had been a terrifying sight in the dark, but in the light…he didn’t seem aggressive. In fact, he appeared to be scouring the bookshelves from where he was floating, reading one title after another before he finally noticed that Makoto had entered and quickly descended.
“Please, don’t run away,” Makoto said. “I need to talk to you.”
Ryoji stopped in place, just as Makoto had requested. Then slowly, but surely, he turned around, gently landing on the ground several feet away from Makoto, his silver mask averted shamefully.
“ What is there to say? ”
Ryoji’s voice was only barely recognizable. Each word that he spoke echoed hollowly, complemented by soft whispers that spoke no intelligible words. Each sound he made reverberated as if it were being drawn up from the bottom of an infinite well, like every word was a piece of his incomprehensible being, carved off to be shared with Makoto.
“I’m not mad,” Makoto said, holding out his hands as if to placate Ryoji. “I just…want to understand.”
Letting out a long, booming sigh, Ryoji began to morph in front of Makoto’s eyes, shrinking and solidifying back into a human-like shape. When his form had settled, Ryoji reached up a hand to toy with his scarf, still refusing to look anywhere near Makoto.
“You’re my captive,” Ryoji said, his voice dull. “And I’m the monster keeping you here. I lied to you over and over, pretending to be your friend. So, really, I want to know –– what more is there to say?”
“Who are you?” Makoto asked. “What sort of deal did I make?”
Ryoji’s blue eyes seemed to flash with an otherworldly power as Makoto asked his questions. It was all too clear that Makoto’s companion was some sort of god, perhaps one he had even sung about before. There were many sons of Nyx…and most of them didn’t seem like they’d be pleasant company. But Nyx was said to be a mother to many, and Ryoji seemed too kind and gentle to be anything awful.
“I am the son of Nyx and Erebus,” he said. “My name is...Thanatos.”
Makoto felt his heart sink like a rock. He knew that name. It seldom appeared in old songs and poems, and when that name was spoken, it was in whispers. Even Makoto, who lived most of his life not believing in the existence of gods, knew better than to tempt fate by speaking that dreaded name. It was often said that by calling the name of Thanatos, you might get his attention.
Thanatos. Death.
“O-Oh…” Makoto said.
“I’m not going to hurt you!” Thanatos said quickly, looking panicked by Makoto’s reaction. “I…well, I couldn’t collect your soul even if I wanted to. And I wouldn’t want to necessarily…it’s just my job. Someone has to do it.”
“You…can’t kill me?” Makoto asked, feeling like he might faint at any second. “Why not?”
Thanatos bit his lip, his expression quickly disappearing underneath his scarf.
“ Ryoji,” Makoto said. “ Thanatos. Why can’t you kill me?”
“...because you’ve already been bound to this place,” Thanatos said.
“This place?”
Thanatos sighed and sank into a sitting position on the couch. After only a moment of hesitation, Makoto joined him, sitting by his side, though still maintaining a bit of distance between them.
“...this is the underworld,” Thanatos said. “You were bound here when you ate that pomegranate. It was grown here in the realm of the dead, and by consuming it…you became something of the dead. Even if I let you go…you would not be able to return to your world for good. I…tried to warn you before. But I guess…I didn’t do a good job, if I’ve been giving you hope all this time. I’m afraid you have no hope of escape.”
The underworld.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Makoto had ventured with Kotone into the woods knowing that there were tales of it belonging to the gods. But had they really walked so far into the darkness that they’d crossed the threshold between life and death? And if that was the case…
“Is Kotone alive?” Makoto murmured. “Did she make it?”
Thanatos finally lifted his head and met Makoto’s eyes.
“Your sister is indeed alive,” Thanatos said, his voice getting closer to its usual warm tone. “She was granted safe passage back to your home. Though…her safety is not a certainty. She’s keeping her promise to you, venturing this way with several other humans, in the hope of rescuing you from this place.”
Makoto swallowed.
“You know about that, huh?” Makoto asked. “Well…I was going to tell ‘Ryoji’ about it anyway. I was hoping we could escape together and…I don’t know. I could introduce you to Kotone and all of my friends. We could go on walks, or watch the sunset, or play music together.”
“If I leave this place, the world as you know it will be destroyed,” Thanatos said, his voice sharp. “I can only mix with life at its end. If I were to leave here, to interact with your kind…then Nyx would follow me out of the woods, and all of humanity would succumb to The Fall.”
“Well, I didn’t know all that,” Makoto said, rolling his eyes. “You didn’t exactly mention that you’re actually Death incarnate until just now.”
“W-Well, you never would have talked to me if you knew!” Thanatos protested. “I didn’t want you to find out because I…I knew that you’d hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Makoto said bluntly. “Even if you disguised yourself and used a different name…I don’t think you were trying to hurt me.”
Ryoji had been eager to get to know Makoto, but so hesitant at the same time. Ryoji had often asked Makoto if he was eating enough, if he felt safe, if he liked talking to him. Ryoji had said that he enjoyed the kiss, but he’d still pushed Makoto away and come clean about the truth immediately once Makoto made his feelings known.
“You just wanted to be my friend,” Makoto realized aloud. “Didn’t you?”
Thanatos looked away, biting his lip in a gesture that felt incredibly human.
“Yes,” Thanatos confessed. “I…I’m really selfish.”
“No, you’re not,” Makoto said. “You didn’t want me to be lonely. And…you said you were looking for loopholes. You want to set me free. I know you do.”
“That doesn’t matter, Makoto,” Thanatos said, narrowing his eyes. “You said it yourself. I’m a monster, and my mother gave you to me as a gift. We could never be anything like friends. It's only because I lied that you wanted to…”
“Kiss you?” Makoto finished for him. “I’d kiss you right now.”
“Wh-What?” Thanatos stammered. “B-But…this isn’t even my real body.”
“Okay,” Makoto said with a shrug. “Then change into your other one. If it’s you…then there’s nothing for me to be afraid of. I meant what I said –– I’d kiss you right now.”
“...you shouldn't say things like that to me,” Thanatos said.
“Why?” Makoto asked. At some point, his voice had gotten very quiet, and he wasn’t quite sure when. But out of necessity, they’d begun to lean closer to each other.
“Because,” Thanatos said. “If you say things like that…I’m going to want them to come true.” In a pillar of blue light, the form of Ryoji Mochizuki faded away, replaced by Thanatos himself, who was sitting stiffly, radiating nervous energy. His hands, which looked powerful enough to break Makoto’s bones like toothpicks, were shyly folded in his lap. It was so cute that Makoto couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, hoisting himself up onto his knees to give himself more height on the couch and bring his mouth level with Thanatos’ silver cheek.
Then, there was a loud banging noise from somewhere nearby, shocking Makoto into recoiling and getting to his feet on impulse. Without much thought, he chased the noise down, exiting the library and sprinting down the hall to the foyer, where the front door to the mansion was straining under the weight of attacks from the outside.
“Kotone!” Makoto yelled, hoping his voice was being heard. “Kotone, are you there?”
At that second, the doors opened, giving in under the force of Akihiko’s sword. He led the small charge into the house, followed by Princess Mitsuru Kirijo and Kotone, who looked like she’d hiked all the way to hell and back.
“Makoto!” Kotone cried, stumbling through the door and capturing him in a hug. “Oh gods… Makoto …”
“Kotone…” Makoto said. “You came…”
“Of course, dummy,” Kotone said through her tears. “Shinji wanted to come too but…he’s still recovering. But he’s okay, Makoto. We’re all going to be okay.”
“Where is your captor?” Mitsuru demanded, pointing a silver rapier towards the empty foyer with a steady arm. “I’ll deliver a swift execution to whoever dared to keep you locked up in here for so long.”
“I’ll check the other rooms,” Akihiko said with a stiff salute.
“Stop it…” Makoto said, his voice wavering with unshed tears. “Please…you all need to go home.”
“Like hell we are!” Akihiko said. “We’re getting you out of here and paying back the guy who did this to you tenfold!” Then, turning to address the knights he’d brought with him, Akihiko began to bark out orders. “Search this place from top to bottom until you’ve found that monster.”
“There’s no need for that.”
Makoto looked over his shoulder and saw Thanatos, once again using the form of Ryoji. His clothes had changed into an ensemble that resembled his true form –– a dark suit jacket and pants with red suspenders, paired with earrings that resembled the coffins that once adorned his back.
“You’re…” Kotone said.
“Makoto’s captor, yes,” Thanatos said with a nod. “You spoke with my mother a few weeks ago. Allow me to apologize on her behalf for the pain and suffering her actions have caused.”
Makoto heard the shuffling of metal armor as the rescue party all hurriedly pointed their weapons at Thanatos. Thanatos himself looked entirely unphased by the aggression of mere mortals. Makoto fixed his eyes on Akihiko, trying to silently plead for him to tell the knights to stand down.
“What sort of being are you?” Akihiko growled.
“I am Thanatos,” Thanatos said with an aborted bow. “Though you all may know me better as Death. ”
One of the knights fired a crossbow, which was aimed right between Thanatos’ eyes, but as quick as a bolt of lightning, Thanatos caught the arrow before it could scratch him. For a second, Makoto was sure he could see a flash of amusement in his smile, but it was quickly dispelled back into his carefully maintained formality. The rescue party stood in horrified silence as Thanatos approached the knight who had fired at him, and handed him the arrow with a smile.
“You must have let this slip by accident,” Thanatos said. “Better not waste any more of them, don’t you think?”
“We aren’t leaving without Makoto,” Kotone said, her voice sharp. “Now, give him back! He doesn’t belong to you!”
“It isn’t my intention to fight you,” Thanatos said. “You all have put yourselves in great danger by coming here. It is only natural you wouldn’t want to return empty handed, but acting recklessly will ensure your doom.”
“What sort of place is this house of yours?” Mitsuru asked, her voice firm. “Won’t you tell us?”
“This is the realm of the dead,” Thanatos said. “I must advise you all not to linger too long or eat anything from inside this house, lest you find yourself bound here like Makoto is.”
“M-Makoto is…” Kotone stammered.
“Please escort him home for the time being,” Thanatos said, smiling softly at Kotone. “He has missed you greatly in the time you have been apart. While he is bound to this place…I was able to find something of a loophole. It is not a permanent solution but..”
Thanatos trailed off, finally meeting Makoto’s eyes with a melancholy smile.
“You may leave this place for a while,” Thanatos said. “For half of the year. But when the time is right, you must return to me. You will know the time is right when the leaves start to fall from the trees and the wind begins to chill. As long as you split your time…your life with those you love does not have to end yet.”
Makoto searched Thanatos’ eyes for any sign that he was being deceived, but found nothing. If anything, the sorrow in those beautiful eyes was proof enough that Makoto was indeed free to leave, at least for a while. It wasn’t a perfect solution, of course…but somewhere in his heart, Makoto knew that leaving permanently wouldn’t have been a perfect solution either. After all…he didn’t want to leave Thanatos behind. At least not before he’d made good on his word and given him that kiss.
“Thank you,” Makoto said, hoping to show Thanatos with only his smile that he was content with such a deal, and that he was sure he could find a home in the land of the dead as well, as long as he wasn’t alone. His smile was shakily returned after only a second.
“This has to be some sort of trick,” Akihiko said. “Why would you let him go?”
“...because Makoto has been very kind to me,” Thanatos said. Though it was hard to see in the dim light of the moon outside, Makoto could spot a light blush coloring his cheeks. “And it makes me happy to see him smile. So…I wouldn’t dare deny him what freedom he has left.”
Mitsuru narrowed her eyes at Thanatos, clearly not trusting his words, but before she could speak, Makoto saw Kotone step forward to the front of the rescue party. Kotone didn’t say a word, but stared straight at Makoto, clearly waiting for some sort of signal that he was being coerced, manipulated, or otherwise hurt by Thanatos. But Makoto only nodded silently, hoping to convey that he was content with the situation.
“Let us not waste a second longer,” Mitsuru said. “Akihiko. Lead the way home.”
The so-called fearless captain of the royal guard still seemed to be frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Thanatos, but with a sharp kick to his shin, courtesy of Kotone, he finally took the hint and began to move, leading his men and Princess Mitsuru out of the mansion without another word, leaving Kotone to hold open the door to the outside world, staring expectantly at Makoto.
Makoto first walked to Thanatos, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek, the action chaste, but containing the implicit promise of more.
From where she was standing, Kotone went quiet, her eyes darting between Makoto and Thanatos with sudden interest. Makoto could practically see the dots connecting in her eyes. While her posture remained stiff and there was still clear urgency in her expression, the glare she’d been leveling at Thanatos gradually softened, patience overtaking her fear easily.
Then, without a word, Makoto walked away from the front door, all the way to the room he’d been using as his own. He packed up his things quietly, wishing he’d brought a memento to leave with Thanatos, but resolved to bring things from the living world to share with him when he’d be back in autumn. He couldn’t help but notice that the wooden chair he’d once used as a barricade had a small knick in it, forged by the door handle. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that he’d left a small mark on Thanatos’ home in his short time there. Maybe as the years passed, the house would start to feel like his own as well.
When he was finally ready to go, Makoto passed his bag to Kotone and turned to Thanatos for one last goodbye.
“Wait for me,” Makoto said.
Thanatos nodded. His smile was bittersweet, but also the most precious sight Makoto had ever seen. It was an expression he wanted to write a dozen embarrassing songs about –– and he had two seasons ahead to work on them.
“Of course,” Thanatos said. “Makoto…I…”
“Not yet,” Makoto said. “Save it…for when I’m home again.”
Makoto stepped out of the house and back into the dark, labyrinthine forest, followed by Kotone. He was finally making the long journey back to the world he’d come from, even as he felt a tether around his heart, pulling him always towards Thanatos. He’d be back soon enough…and that was alright with him.