"Mika-chan, I'm coming in. I've brought you your dinner." Tsurumaru announced from outside the room.
"..."
The midnight haired didn't respond. But he had never once responded to Tsurumaru's calls. The latter simply let himself in. It was how it always had been and always will be. Because, words were never needed between them to understand the other.
Tsurumaru slowly slided open the paper screen door, careful to not spill the delicately prepared meal. "You could've at least answered me, ya know." The white haired pouted as he eyed Mikazuki lazily sipping his freshly brewed tea.
"What's the point?" Mikazuki asked, "you used to always barge into my room."
"At least I don't do it anymore." Tsurumaru replied, kneeling slowly and setting the tray of food before the other.
"Haha, you still do," he chuckled. "It's just that you announce your arrivals now."
"But the way I am now, is entirely influenced by you." Tsurumaru snickered, reminding Mikazuki that he was the one who had raised him.
This time he stayed quiet, his gaze drifting from the white haired to his opened screen door which lead outside. Mikazuki placed his cup of tea down. He had stopped drinking a while ago and simply conversed with the other sword. Mikazuki stood up from his spot, "Eh, where are you going?" Tsurumaru asked, while the midnight haired headed out the screen door, grabbing a bottle of sake and drinking cups on his way out.
"Out for a drink," he answered, turning back to Tsurumaru with a faint smile, as he sat on the wooden deck.
"Care to join me?"
Tsurumaru smiled softly, sitting next to the midnight haired, he grabbed the sake bottle from him and poured Mikazuki a cup, before pouring one for himself.
"What's wrong all of a sudden? You rarely drink." Tsurumaru asked and took a sip of the translucent liquid.
"Ahh, that hits the spot! You really do keep the best ones in your room after all."
Mikazuki chuckled amusingly at Tsurumaru's cheerful response. Regardless how many year fades by, the white haired cheerfulness and cheekiness still remains the same. Just like the morning sun that never fails to arise the following day. "Nothing. I just felt like having some sake rather than tea, that's all."
"Nnmmm," Tsurumaru mused, smiling contentedly to himself at Mikazuki's half hearted response, and leaned his side against Mikazuki's shoulder.
"Not once had I ever imagined that in this life, we could be together, indulging in a bottle of sake."
"Haha," Mikazuki laughed, "I certainly did not raise you to become this attached to me…"
"Rather than who you are… it's what you are that intrigued me."
"What I am?" Mikazuki responded, his brows perking up in consternation.
The white haired mused, his fore finger against his lips which expressed a solemn smile. And Tsurumaru hinted the truth, "Munechika, one of the five famous swords of Japan. Which came to be known as Mikazuki by the crescent moon-shaped patterns on your scabbard."
Tsurumaru stood and turned his heels, about to leave the suddenly tense-feeling room. But before he could make a move from his spot, Mikazuki, with outstretched hands, grabbed Tsurumaru's wrist and stopping him in his tracks.
"Tsurumaru…" he began, "no, who are you? How do you know that name?" Mikazuki asked, his tone low and demanding answers.
"I am Tsurumaru. Always have been and always will be," the white haired reassured the other. "Now, release my hand. I've told you more than enough."
But to Tsurumaru's surprise, Mikazuki's grip around his wrist only tightened, making it seem as though his joints were delicate porcelain parts that would snap apart any minute.
"Not enough for me to patch up the pieces together…" Mikazuki replied, "so why not just tell me, rather than hiding the truth and running away?"
He wasn't running away, he was simply hiding, hiding the dark truth he kept hidden from everyone around him, and portraying a cheerful air-headed persona. Because that way, people would not question him. But Mikazuki was different. Whether he put on an innocent or a cheerful front, Mikazuki could always read through him like clear water.
Tsurumaru turned to face the midnight haired, before questioning him.
"Then let me ask you. Why did you forget me? Or is your age getting onto you?"
"Forget you?" Mikazuki questioned back, "You were only born two centuries ago..." He reasoned, confusion in his tone, while he tried piecing together everything he knew to try and understand where the other was coming from.
"That's where you're wrong, Mikazuki." Mikazuki's eyes widened in what seemed like surprise and shock at Tsurumaru's next response, as he revealed the truth on his existence.
"While you may have lived longer than me, I've lived more than you. Far more than anyone could possibly imagine."
Tsurumaru paused, allowing the information to sink into the other.
"Although my symbol," Tsurumaru started, pointing to the crane emblem he wore on the collar of his cloak. "Represents that of fortune and longevity, I've always brought the antithesis upon my Saniwa's. And in this life, without fail, shall be the same.
Sadayasu Adachi, Hojo Sadatoki, Oda Nobunaga were all the master's I-"
Before Tsurumaru could continue, he was stopped by a soft trembling hand resting against his cheek. That was it. It was all the confirmation he had needed. How could he forget the others' existence? Tsurumaru wasn't a blade crafted two centuries ago; he had been crafted in the Heian period, a blade which he had crossed ways several times in history. He had been his family, his disciple, his enemy and his… lover…
"You're… You're the white crane… Are you not?" Mikazuki muttered, his voice soft and raspy from disbelief.
His heart pounded against his chest and his head running in circles. His Tsurumaru had long since perished in the bombing of the esteemed Hojo clan. It was the truth he had always believed. But even so, he wanted to momentarily think that his Tsurumaru was in front of him. Whether it was an illusion or a memory of the other, he wanted to feel his lingering touch against his own. Regardless how stoic he had appeared, how emotionless he persuaded himself to be. Be it a century or a millennium, he couldn't forget the white crane.
"Haha," Tsurumaru chuckled, his gold pupils staring into mesmerizing blue ones. "Though people would call me the red crane after hearing my story."
Tsurumaru closed his eyes and placed his hand over Mikazuki's, caressing the trembling hand that rested against his cheek.
He didn't know who had moved first, but before any could say as much as another word, their foreheads were pressed together. And soon, their lips met. Soft yet firm, Mikazuki pressed against Tsurumaru. His free hand combed through Tsurumaru's hair, gripping harshly onto his white locks. The kiss only grew more passionate when Tsurumaru licked his lower lip, asking for entrance which Mikazuki granted without hesitation.
Mikazuki broke the kiss, parting their lips as he gasped for air. If not for the lack of air, he was sure he could've continued kissing the other forever. The feel of the other's lips against his own felt like heaven. Much better than the memory he had held onto for the past few centuries. He had wanted to feel the other against his fingertips for so long. A confirmation that he was still with him, desperately trying to erase the truth he had always believed till now.
And yet for the past two decades, he was right beside him.
"I thought i had lost you…" Mikazuki whispered, tears threatening to escape his eyes as feelings of relief and joy overcame him.
Tsurumaru closed his eyes and softly laid a kiss on Mikazuki's forehead. Reassuring the other that he wasn't an illusion casted by his longingness for Tsurumaru's presence.
"I reverted back to my sword at the passing of Hojo Tokiyuki; the extermination of the Hojo clan." Tsurumaru explained, "For a few centuries, i went into unknown hands. Before i knew, i was granted life by Oda Nobunaga."
"But just like i had promised…" Tsurumaru continued, "I would find my way back to you. Because the time i had spent with you back then, were my most memorable."
Mikazuki smiled lovingly at Tsurumaru's confession. "If you had told me all this two decades ago…"
"What would you have done?" Tsurumaru laughed, teasing the midnight haired with his next response. "Showered me with your affection? But patience had always been a part of you, Mika-chan."
"Since when did the time frame of waiting patiently included a millennium?!"
"I sealed my memories of you." Tsurumaru revealed, "since my previous life would always connect with my next, i wouldn't know how to live if you weren't there. What if you had perished? Fell in love with another sword? Forgotten my existence? The seal was to unseal itself once we had spent a certain time together... then everything would become clear."
Mikazuki raised a finger and playfully flicked Tsurumaru on his forehead.
"You're my one and only, Kuninaga Tsurumaru. So don't say i'd go falling for another sword or forgetting you.
…
So what was the time span you had set on your spell?"
"Two and a half decades."
"Gosh, Tsurumaru," Mikazuki groaned. "You'll be the death of me one day."
"Well you're still alive and kicking now," Tsurumaru replied with a goofy grin.
Mikazuki leaned forward and gripped tightly on Tsurumaru's white attire.
"You're mine aren't you?..."
Tsurumaru lifted Mikazuki's face by his chin and smiled. Reassuring the midnight haired that he was indeed his. Mikazuki's eyes were just like his. Filled with mystery, affection, a hazy gaze, and a want for something more.
"Then can I have you? ...Tonight?" He finished.
Tsurumaru didn't wait any longer. He kissed Mikazuki, a kiss more intense and passionate than the last one they had shared. The midnight haired was taken aback by the force, but he didn't dislike it. Closing his eyes, he followed Tsurumaru's lead. It felt nice to have the other take the initiative of the situation.
Tsurumaru readily grabbed Mikazuki and pushed him inside his room. Sliding the paper screen door shut behind him with his leg, he lead Mikazuki to his futon and laid him down.
The movement broke their intense kiss, leaving Mikazuki in a panting mess as he gasped for lost air. Tsurumaru hovered above him with a smirk, pleased that he could still strip the calm and superior Mikazuki to a panting mess.
Mikazuki couldn't help but to smile softly at Tsurumaru. He unconsciously outstretched his hand and gently caressed Tsurumaru's cheek.
Tsurumaru leaned into Mikazuki's comforting palm and returned the smile. "It doesn't matter how fate run its course. Even without my memories of you, I would've still fallen in love with you all over again."