you crave what does not exist dear

Before tragedy struck, they found fortune in their meeting.

Kazuha wouldn't say he was a lonely person- he was all alone now, yes, but the wind and earth were more his familiars than anyone else had ever been. But to also say that he didn't miss his clan would also be a false statement. Now that they weren't there, the loss had carved its place in his heart. Coming to terms and accepting reality was a clear struggle, and it took him weeks to finally cry.

When the feeling finally set, the horrible realization that he was going to be alone- well that was what he hated. A part of him resented his clan for leaving him behind, while the other side of him had come to somewhat terms with it. To know that he was left behind, with nothing but a title that meant nothing and an ache in his heart that he couldn't seem to ease- it was hard to face. The two overwhelming emotions constantly clashed in his mind like blades- a flurry of grief and the longing to move on- fighting a never ending battle that Kazuha wanted to run away from but could for the life of him seem to leave behind.

But at the moment, his creeping desire to seek adventure had risen victorious, and Kazuha found himself resting under a gnarled tree as he sullenly regarded the scenery surrounding him. (Sullen because he had been called silly names by the town children, but to not admire such a view would be a criminal act and render the name calling true.)

A loud noise brought him out of his stupor, and he jumped up, hand on the gilded hilt of his sword, (he prayed that this foe was not a swords master, for he barely understood how to hold his own,) then fell back when he saw was only a cat- a cat who had in a span of just seconds, jumped headfirst into the tree he had been sitting under. It landed gracefully and was picking at its paws, regarding Kazuha coolly. He stared right back, unwavering. The cat and him stood like that for a whole five minutes before the silence was broken yet again, this time by someone loudly calling out- practically screaming- and Kazuha could not make sense of a single word. People ought to be more coherent, he mused.

When Kazuha turned to find the source of the painfully deafening gibberish, he got a face full of a large and very hard object. A board? That couldn't be. He stepped back to assess the situation, rubbing vehemently at his nose, to then realize that it was not in fact a board he had pummelled into full force, but a human being.

Bright eyes met his, then large calloused hands latched onto his shoulders, and suddenly the rough but rich voice filled his ears again, this time directed at him.

"I'm so sorry- I honestly didn't see you there. That," they pointed up at the stretching feline on the branch, "is my beloved companion who decided to take a walk on their own despite my warnings of the dangers in the wild". Their eyes flicked to the top of Kazuha's head.

"You should take my wise words into consideration too- short people must always take caution, who knows when you could get eaten by something twice your size."

Kazuha gaped at them bewildered, only a couple of sentences in and the subtle insults were already flying- either they were trying to rile him up (and for what reason exactly?), or they were just very daft. Kazuha refused to believe that his height was on the short side, so this stranger was simply delusional.

But the other's face held no hostility, as they studied him, just pure unbridled concern. So he came to the conclusion that they were just daft. Alright. Dense was better than malicious.

Then the cat was pulled down from the tree and then Kazuha found himself seated again, but this time the broad shouldered stranger had planted themselves next to him. Kazuha regarded them questioningly, but before he could speak, ten minutes had gone by and he now knew many pieces of information that he had never asked for: the stranger's name (Tomo), his favourite colour (orange), and a recount of his day (a jumble of words- almost prison, dango and cats). He had begun another spiel providing him with his family history, and Kazuha could not stop himself from interrupting with an unconcealed threat; he was one with words but this was too much.

"Those who speak so much should be cautious- who knows when someone half your size will deprive you of your tongue." Tomo's eyes widened in a faux expression of shock, and then they were laughing together, though Kazuha could not understand exactly what they were laughing about- Tomo's laughter was just highly contagious.

From that strange encounter onwards, Kazuha and Tomo were inseparable- practically joined at the hip. From adventuring, strolling the streets, eating, and several visits to a jail cell (that was mostly Tomo), the boys spent all their time together. That fateful day had spurred a friendship that Kazuha believed would serve them well for the years to come. Because best friends supported each other each step of the way in this journey of life, did they not? They would be there for each other, until far into the future, when they were both old and grey, Kazuha thought. Until death would do them part. (He didn't know death would claim one of them so soon.)

As their friendship budded and grew, blooming wonderfully like a beautiful yellow summer rose, so too did the comfort they had in each other's presence.

It would be strange though, if they weren't as close as they were after everything they had been through together. From sharing a jail cell, being caught in scandalous misunderstandings, painting (well vandalizing, really) private property and sharing nights under the stars while they had their many adventures- the two of them were as close as close could be. That was the level of friendship required for some of the risker stunts they did, like exploding fireworks on a rickety old raft, and pretending to be tengu to scare a mystical tanuki into giving them back their swords.

With the passage of time, Tomo and Kazuha also began to take interest and join in on each other's hobbies. With Tomo enjoying sword fighting and Kazuha being enamoured with poetry, the two of them spent much time during their travels indulging each other in banter and appreciation of the arts.

Where Kazuha went from a novice sword wielder to a quite decent swordsman due to Tomo's guidance, his own insistence to learn, and wish to motivate Tomo; Tomo also went as far as encouraging Kazuha's poetic endeavours by joining him with lines of his own.

He was by no means good, but he was definitely trying. Tomo would belt out random rhythms in an attempt to join in, and the result was a mess of a barely conceivable poem.

Kazuha would never admit it, but he wrote down each messy verse they ruined in his notebook, for no amount of good prose could replace the utter joy each horridly worded stanza would bring. Tomo, the lump, would chuckle, promising he would one day draft a poem so wonderful, that Kazuha would keep repeating it in his honour.

Kazuha could only smile and roll his eyes in return.

"No, I'm serious. One day, I'll make a poem so good, it'll knock your sandals off." Both Kazuha and Tomo's cat stared at each other, as if silently communicating their doubts.

"Should you draft a verse so great… never mind I can't even say that with a straight face." Kazuha snorted, and Tomo gave him a playful glare.

"Ha ha, just watch me Kazuha, my poetry will be so epic that, that… umm its epicness will never be forgotten and stuff."

Kazuha gave him an idle wave, "Yes yes, Tomo, and your dear cat will be able to fly then as well, for the impossible seems to be achievable if you're able to write more than a solid verse."

When Kazuha returned from his outing into the village, he found that a tiny note was carefully tucked in the crease of his travel bag. Had he not looked closer, he would have probably missed it. Folded over and over till it was the size of a mere pebble, the note was clearly meant for him, as he could confirm when opening it up and seeing the blocky letters "To Kazuha" scrawled across the last fold.

He recognized the handwriting immediately, a smile flitting across his features as he thought of the sender- Tomo was probably too embarrassed to show him this in person, so he'd slipped it in his belongings instead.

On the inside was written, to Kazuha's utter surprise, a short poem.

'One with nature,

The flowers bloom,

Clouds hide the bird's call

The wind knows me.

So when dawn fades to dusk

Fallen leaves will adorn my night.

For I am one with wind and cloud.'

Kazuha brought the crumpled paper to his lips in a weak attempt to conceal the wide smile that split across his face. Tomo had written him a poem- and it wasn't half bad. In fact, Kazuha was going to treasure the lines until his deathbed.

He read the lines over and over, eyes memorizing every stroke, every word written on the page, searing it into his memory.

When he was satisfied, Kazuha folded the slip of paper again, albeit neater this time, and placed it gently into his pocket. He had better go check if the cat had grown wings and flown away- Tomo would be devastated.