Chihiro lives up in the depths of the mountains, away from the rest of her small village. She enjoys the seclusion, and takes weekly trips down to sell some of her herbs and bamboo to the locals. Few suitors have come to her humble home to ask for her hand, but she has turned all away, fearing that they would not settle into her lifestyle as easily as they say they can. Chihiro knows that the other people of her village prefer to have a social circle they can have close by. It is also why her parents moved back to the base of the mountain after she came of age.
One winter's night, as the snow falls from the clouds above, a knock came at her front door, startling her from her firelight reading. She rises from her futon and wraps herself in a slightly thicker robe, walking to the front door. When she opens it, a gust of cold air rushes in and for a split second Chihiro swears that she sees a long white serpent, but instead it is a young man, pale cheeks flushed from the cold. He looks up at her with a soft smile, and Chihiro melts a little bit in her slippers. "I am sorry," he says, his voice like running water. "May I seek refuge here for the night? It is terribly cold."
Normally, she would be wary of a strange man coming into her home, but the image of the dragon from before makes her think differently tonight. "Yes, of course. Let me get you a towel and some slippers." She rushes back inside to the closet in the hallway to grab the spare slippers she has from when her parents lived in the house. She slides into the bath chamber to snatch a towel from the drying rack. She runs back and stops at the entrance of the foyer, taking in the sight of the man wringing his soaked headcloth just outside the door. His dark hair is cut straight at his chin, framing his sharp jaw. Chihiro's heart skips a beat when he looks at her with eyes greener than the mountain forest in the middle of the rainy season. She hands him the towel and sets the slippers down on the floor.
"Thank you," he says, rubbing his head with the towel. "May I ask for your name?"
"Chihiro," she responds, twiddling her thumbs.
"Chihiro," he repeats, and Chihiro's breath hitches when his voice wraps around her name. "I am Kohaku."
The brunette smiles and gestures for him to enter further into her home. He smiles, showing a little bit of his beautiful white teeth, and silently accepts her invitation.
He does not leave her home for a long time.
They sit by the fire together one snowy night a few weeks later. Kohaku has been introduced to her parents and other villagers as Chihiro's lover, and some of her suitors were in such shock that they ceased buying her products for a short while. It did not damage her lifestyle terribly, and now she laughs at how absurd some of them were.
"It had also been snowing the day we had met," she says suddenly, with Kohaku looking out into the darkness. Chihiro follows his gaze as she thinks about it; about how she fell in love with the image of a dragon and how she then fell in love with the man who had magically showed up at her door. The soft white powder that covers the ground is a kind reminder of when her life changed for the better, for when she allowed a man into her home after years of rejecting others.
Just thinking about her—a simple mountain girl!—falling this deep in love makes her smile. The boy leaning against her hides his face in her sleeve, and it surprises her that someone like him can become so embarrassed.
Kohaku sings spring into life.
He has a beautiful baritone voice, and he spends some nights lulling Chihiro to sleep as they lay in their shared futon. Chihiro absolutely adores it when he sings—it reminds her of rushing water, oddly enough, and it brings her some sort of comfort.
"Your voice is beautiful," she says to him one bright day, while he is standing under the cherry blossoms. The bird that had landed on his finger flies off as he turns to her with a slightly flushed face. Chihiro smiles widely as he walks up to her, bending down to gently kiss her lips. "What was that for?"
"Do I need a reason?" He has dropped a lot of the formalities he had when they first met, and Chihiro enjoys the way he speaks to her.
"Never," she replies as he drops next to her and she moves to rest her head in his lap. The sun hits her face and she can not tell if the heat is from that or just the blood rushing up. He reaches down to gently stroke her hair and her eyes fall closed.
"If someday I no longer had this voice that you said was beautiful," he begins, and Chihiro opens her eyes. He is looking at the trees, and it reminds her of the winter. "Would you still, even then, love me?"
Chihiro lets out a soft chuckle and lifts her hand to his cheek. "Of course," she says. He breaks his gaze from the forest and leans down to kiss her, cradling her head in his hands.
Summer comes and the forest turns a dark green, almost sea-blue as leaves fill the trees and shade the ground beneath. It is now harvesting season, and Chihiro and Kohaku find themselves spending more and more time in her garden. He never leaves her side, and when she falls to her knees, blood pouring from her mouth as she coughs harshly, he is there, rubbing her back and telling her, for the love of everything, put down the greens, she needs to get inside.
Illness hits harder than they think, and Kohaku is not sure how they will get medicine. Even with her selling bamboo and vegetables, it is not nearly enough for medicine. Kohaku can continue harvesting until the end of the season, but he is not sure how long his beloved has as she lays shivering in bed.
While he washes his hands, he looks at his refection in the water and for a moment sees the snout of a white dragon. Of course! he thinks. His scales would make for beautiful jewelry, enough to go for a good price. If he uses them to create wares, they may be able to get through this.
And so, the next day, and the next, and those that follow, he sits under a lantern and ebbs down his scales so they are not so sharp, weaves them into necklaces and earrings, burning his fingers on boiling metal. He refuses to anything else, eats when Chihiro does, and at times neglects their garden. A few concerned villagers trek up to her home to inquire the status of their foodstuff, but leave with prayers on their tongue for their beloved friend. And Kohaku watches them as they disappear into the blue forest, promising under his breath that Chihiro's life would not fall like the leaves of the trees.
Fall comes with the sound of bell crickets singing their songs, and Kohaku's determination has payed off, somewhat. His scales are a hit with the locals, and some have started to ask for pieces to send of far-off family. He has a successful business with this and while money is still tight, it is not as terrible as it once was.
When he enters Chihiro's room one night with hot tea, she gently takes her hands in hers, and he suppresses a shudder at how cold they feel. "Your fingers are beautiful," she says, and he is confused for a second, as his fingers are bloodied and cut and burned. The farthest thing from beautiful.
"If someday I no longer had these fingers that you said were beautiful," he says, remembering spring, remembering a simpler time for the couple. "Would you still, even then, love me?"
"Of course," she breathes.
And coughs.
Kohaku falls into his work. Furiously, he creates jewelry with glistening white scales, the sheer notion that he is so close to buying the medicine driving him to the edge.
Just a little longer, so long as the maple trees have their leaves.
Just a little longer, until his fingers are unable to move.
Just a little longer, until he has no more scales to give.
(Chihiro feels as though a flame begins to go out. As though a breeze is coming to snuff it away. It is gentle, a soft caress like that of a sunset. She wishes she can reach for it.
And she does. And she reaches it.)
"If someday I no longer was the man you told was beautiful," Kohaku asks himself, quietly, cloaked in the light of the fire burning in front of him. His fingers bleed as he feels the final scale. "Would you still, even then, still love me?"
He refuses to go into the other room. He knows. He knows what awaits.
"Of course," he hears, and it feels like he is being embraced. "Because I promised I would embrace you when you surely would lose your faithful scales."
She knew? Kohaku asks himself as he tries to turn around, but then grip is too strong.
"And that dragon which had beautifully taken flight that day I've never forgotten, and still remember even now."
He cries, burying his face in his bloody hands.
"And just like always."
Kohaku grabs at Chihiro's arms around him.
"I love you."
author's notes:
this is based off of the Vocaloid song "Feathers Across the Seasons" by Hitoshizuku-P and Yama△, sung by Rin and Len Kagamine
aka
sadness, personified in a song
lmao ive been writing a reunion fic for three weeks but pooped this out in under 24 hours