Kurogane was not particularly mistrustful of life or fate or the gods, though it was plain enough to be seen that they could be merciless in their indifference. And he trusted in Fai - believed in him, in the reality of him here in Nihon, in Suwa, in his bed at night and tucked into the corners of his smile during the day - more than he believed in anything or anyone else. Yet it was also true that if there was not some duty occupying him, Kurogane invariably found himself wandering the house in search of the mage, driven by something he couldn't even name.
It wasn't fear that the man would up and vanish if not watched. There had been a time when the mage had seemed as fragile as the first ice of winter forming paper-thin across a pond, tied to this existence only by a few brittle old threads rotted with age and blood and tears. There had been a time that Kurogane had held cruelly tight, fearful within himself that this ephemeral being would slip out of his grasp and fade away. But that was a time long past; not forgotten by any means, but certainly gone by and never to come 'round again.
It was not fear. It was not anxiety. It could not even be named unease, though he certainly did not feel entirely easy until he caught sight of a blond ponytail fluttering by or heard the faint echo of a familiar laugh. He was drawn and driven and since it so far had proven to be manageable, Kurogane allowed himself this; this indefinable need to be with his husband whenever their busy lives allowed it.
After a time Fai's pleasantly surprised looks and softly anxious queries about whether Kurogane needed anything gave way to thoughtful gazes and playful curiosity. These too were eventually succeeded by slow smiles that suffused the mage's face with an openly affectionate look that never failed to kindle a sweetly burning ache in Kurogane's chest. It was demanding like hunger and thirst, and even more easily sated; he had but to stride up to his husband and claim a quick, fierce embrace.
Nothing else seemed to do; no kiss, no caress of face or hair, no whispered word was as satisfying in those moments than getting his arms around the other man and squeezing tight, relishing the warmth and weight and reality of him and crushing that neediness just under his breastbone with Fai's presence. Sometimes that was all he needed. One quick embrace and then done, perhaps a few words and then away. Other times he lingered, letting the mage tease him about lonesome puppies who missed their playmate for a while or just standing there in idle chat, the both of them talking about everything and nothing as if neither of them had noticed this new habit.
But Fai had noticed, and Kurogane knew it not because of any particularly sly smiles or knowing silences, but because the mage began to make a game of it. Their home was large but not needlessly sprawling or convoluted, and yet tracking the man down became somewhat of a chore. Fai did not simply hide somewhere quietly; that would have been too easy and a waste of his valuable time as well. They played hawk and hare instead, Fai always on the alert for a ninja on the prowl and bringing a new sort of cunning and creativity to how he ordered his day.
Kurogane would find fresh tracks of his husband as he stalked around, in such places as the chatter of servants and a lingering warmth in a favorite chair. Once he was even met with a servant waiting for him with a cup of tea ordered for him by his husband, and Kurogane huffed at himself for walking into a snare set for him by his own prey. The game went on and on, sometimes being set aside for a time but never really ending, and they never spoke of it directly but once.
"I keep wondering if you'll ever give up looking for me," Fai said suddenly one day, as Kurogane crept up behind him and engulfed him in a hearty hug after a chase that had lasted a ridiculous number of hours and criss-crossed not only the house but the gardens and orchard besides. The ninja huffed as he nuzzled contentedly at the fine hairs spilling out from the richly red ribbon that held back most of the mage's hair.
"Never," Kurogane murmured. And that was that.