In other words, no Yasunori ex Machina.

Title and lyrics from "The Moon Will Sing" by the Crane Wives.

XXX

"The Moon Will Sing a Song for Me;

I Loved You like the Sun,

Bore the Shadows that You Made;

With No Light of My Own."

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He couldn't quite say that he hadn't realized his feelings until it was too late.

Because, really, that wasn't true at all. He may not have realized as quickly as they came to be, but he wasn't stupid, nor was he oblivious; actually, he'd known how he felt way before this happened. He just didn't want to voice them aloud- didn't even really know how to- so he never did. Besides, honestly talking about his feelings had never really been his style, and if he had managed it, he'd probably get accused of being ill or something for having such a sudden change in behavior.

He was much too mysterious and cryptic all the time to suddenly declare his affections for someone he could barely admit to being friends with.

But now, as he sat alone in his home, knowing that his state would be unlikely to change from that loneliness from that point onward, he mused that it may have been better if he hadn't realized until it was too late to do anything about it. If he hadn't realized in time, then it was simply a tragedy. How unfortunate. If only he'd known sooner, he could have said something. But having known, having chosen to say nothing, that was far more regrettable. It really made it his own damn fault for not saying something when he could have.

Then again, this whole thing was his fault, really, regardless of what he'd said to Lady Doman. He'd been convinced that the sekisanko was targeting him, not entirely unreasonable considering it had almost killed him. But it hadn't been targeting him, so his attempts to figure out which of his enemies was trying to kill him this time were fruitless and almost pointless. All he'd done was lead them into danger, danger which only Seimei himself had really been prepared for. And then he hadn't even had the decency to make sure the man was actually staying near him, where he could keep him safe.

Essentially, he'd led Hiromasa to his death.

He may not have been the one who stabbed him, but he also hadn't been able to save him. He hadn't been able to protect him. He may not be the only one to blame, but he would certainly share in it.

It had all happened so quickly. One minute, they were just looking for a demon, something that had become ordinary. But the next, Hiromasa was coughing up blood, and his eyes were closing, and Seimei was trying to stop the bleeding but he couldn't, and it was coming out so fast and soaking into his clothes, and Hiromasa was gone.

He was gone.

Hiromasa was dead, and he'd left behind a gaping hole in Seimei's chest. He couldn't stop thinking about him. He kept having to catch himself when he tried to call out for him. He kept reaching out for phantoms that weren't there. He kept jolting out of dreams where he managed to save him, only to wake and get slapped with the reality that he hadn't. He kept screaming out of nightmares that reflected that reality, finding himself with no comfort once he'd startled out of them. He kept waiting and waiting for Hiromasa to show up and ask him for a favor or to bring him a gift or even just stop by to say hello.

He'd never stop by again, and Seimei would always be kept waiting.

Grief was no stranger to him, just as it was no stranger to just about everyone. Everyone experienced grief in their lives. People were always dying, and people were always grieving. It wasn't a unique experience; if anything, it was practically universal. It wouldn't even be the first time he'd lost someone.

But even though he knew that, Seimei still felt like the world had stopped without Hiromasa in it. He hated knowing that it hadn't. This grief was the worst he'd ever felt, hurt more than anything else, and he didn't know what to do with it. He knew that grief tended to fade with time, and Hiromasa hadn't died very long ago, but even still, he couldn't conceive of it getting any easier. Seimei didn't think this particular hole could ever be filled, even if it got a little smaller, far off in the future.

As it was, though he could more-or-less maintain a veneer of normality, he was starting to slip. He'd barely held himself back from throwing something and screaming at Hiromasa's funeral, instead publically crying for the first time since he'd been a child. He was jumpier than he'd been since then, too. Whenever he did get guests, guests who weren't the person he wanted to visit, they often caught him drinking too much or sleeping, only to shake him out of it, revealing his face behind his mask until he could hastily shove it back on. He couldn't go to court like this, and he certainly couldn't do missions. Though, it seemed that someone or other had suggested he not be bothered with missions or favors for a while, because practically no one had tried since before this happened. It allowed him to stay in his house, alone, where he wouldn't have to worry so much about cracking in front of anyone else.

Not that he ever really cared about his reputation before, but he felt like his grief wasn't for others to see. It was the only thing left that he could give to Hiromasa, and it was only for the two of them. He didn't need people giving him pitying looks. He didn't need people who had always hated him offering their condolences. He didn't need to hear the whispers about how it was his fault when he already knew that. He didn't need people trying to take advantage of him while he was in this state or trying to suggest he be removed from his position again or asking why he didn't save him. Other people had just become too much of a bother, more bothersome than they'd always been, and he didn't want to deal with them unless he had to.

He just wanted to hide away until he could breath without his heart aching.

Seimei threw back another cup of sake, not really knowing how much he'd already had. There were two people who had come to see him since Hiromasa's death: Lord Yasunori and Princess Tsuyuko. The latter had, on a few occasions, attempted to share their grief together, but he didn't know how even if he'd wanted to. The former, however, had just that morning come to inform him that he'd exorcized Lord Atsumi.

He'd been thrown out soon after.

As an onmyoji, he knew that exorcizing him was what had to be done. As Seimei Abe, he wished he could have done it himself, wished he could have torn that man apart for what he had done to not only Seimei's friend but his own lifelong friend. But as the person who held Hiromasa as he died, he wanted to kill Yasunori for making it so he couldn't fulfill Hiromasa's dying wish. The last thing he'd ever asked of Seimei was to help Lord Atsumi. He hadn't wanted his friend to be killed, even if that very friend was his own executioner.

But Seimei hadn't been able to give him that one thing. And now, he never would, because the emperor had deemed Lord Atsumi to be a threat (which he was, but…), and instead of telling Seimei to handle it, he'd decided to 'let him grieve' and Yasunori was given the task instead.

Seimei really had thrown something then- his previous cup right at Yasunori's head- though it had been dodged rather easily, leaving shattered porcelain scattered across the floor that he still hadn't bothered to clean up.

"We both know I'm not the one you're really angry at."

All he'd said in response was a curt "Leave.", using his tone to indicate that he would make him leave if he had to. Yasunori heard that message clearly enough and left without another word.

XXX

The forest was dark, and he couldn't see farther than an arm-span in front of his face, but he was running through it. He could hear the voice echoing through the trees "I'm here!" "I'm here!", but he couldn't determine the direction. Perhaps it didn't matter, since he was more-or-less running blindly, anyway.

Beneath the echo, he could hear loud, thumping footsteps in pursuit behind him, figures crashing through the underbrush. Fingers grasped at his heels, and he knew that, if he slowed down at all, they would have him.

After an eternity of running, he broke out into a clearing.

"Why didn't you save me? You had enough clues, didn't you?"

The clearing was covered in blood, with Hiromasa standing in its center. His clothes were decorated in the same red shade, seeping out from the sword stabbed into his chest.

He stopped running, and just as he'd thought, those grasping hands caught him, holding him in place where he was.

"I gave up so much for you. But you couldn't even call me a friend. You couldn't even use my name."

He couldn't speak, any words he could think of getting stuck behind his lips. The "I'm sorry" he wished he could repeat like a prayer thrummed through his mind, becoming a curse he knew he could never break.

Then, the blood disappeared. He was still being held back, but now, Hiromasa was turning toward him.

"Seimei-"

Having been gone only a moment, the sword stabbed into his chest once again. Hiromasa collapsed to the ground. Still, he couldn't move or speak. Blood sprayed out from between Hiromasa's lips, painting them red.

"If only we'd never met."

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He shot up with a gasp, harsh breathing punctuating every second. It took him less than half a minute to realize it had been a dream, but it took only a few seconds longer to remember that what really happened hadn't been much better. Hiromasa was still dead. Seimei was still alone.

And alone, he tried to force himself to calm down, only to find his breaths growing faster, beginning to get stuck in his throat.

XXX

He gulped down another serving of sake and instantly reached out to pour more, only for a hand to dissuade him from doing so.

"You might want to slow down a little," Princess Tsuyuko advised him, her eyebrows pinching together in concern.

Frowning, he removed his own hand and sat back, as if he were a scolded child. He could drink much more than a full human before getting drunk, but he'd had more than enough for even him to start feeling rather inebriated. That was the point, after all. Even still, he could drink much more before he started to feel any particularly ill effects. However, he didn't know if she knew that. Even if she had heard the rumors about him, she might not think they're true, or she might not know that his heritage made him just a little more resistant to alcohol.

Regardless, she knew he was drinking a lot more than he used to, and she was clearly concerned.

And he could always drink more after she went home.

"I know you miss him. I miss him, too," she sighed. "But he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

"I'm fine," he insisted without much force, knowing that they'd had this same conversation before.

She shook her head.

"You're not, and you don't have to be," Princess Tsuyuko told him. "But drinking so you don't have to feel your grief won't help. It will only prolong it."

How could you prolong something that would never go away? He knew he'd never be able to remember Hiromasa without feeling this sadness dragging him down.

He didn't end up answering her, and after a minute, she'd realized he wasn't going to say anything.

"Are you hungry? I brought some sweets."

He shook his head.

She sighed again.

"Well, make sure you eat them later, okay?"

"… Alright."

Despite what he said, Princess Tsuyuko found the sweets put away in his kitchen, untouched, the next time she came to visit.

XXX

A slightly-cold breeze rustled through the plants in his garden, creating a quiet harmony that used to help him relax. Staring out at his garden in the moonlight used to be calming. Now, he just felt lonely. Mitsuyo and Mitsumushi used to be enough to keep him company, but now, even when Princess Tsuyuko came to visit him, not even that was enough anymore. Before Hiromasa came into his life, he had never had real friends. Few people even liked him, only tolerating him because of his power as an onmyoji. It was a lonely existence, but it was all he had ever known. But now, he knew what it was like to have friends, knew what it was like to have someone he cared about even more deeply than that, and absence was always worse when something was lost than when you never had it in the first place.

He'd told Hiromasa that he was lonely, once. It hadn't exactly been a lie, but he also hadn't said it out of true sincerity, either. Back then, he thought he hadn't minded being lonely. There was a small part of him that felt like he'd figured something out that other people hadn't, that he'd surpassed the need to be comforted by the presence of others. Everyone else seemed so foolish for clinging onto others so tightly.

In the cold light of the moon, sitting alone with more sake and the shiki he literally had to create to have companionship, Seimei realized that he had been the foolish one all along. It was never really that he hadn't needed other people; rather, he just didn't know how to get along with them, so he didn't have the option to need them. He had to be okay with living by himself, taking care of himself, existing by himself, because he wasn't going to get anything more than that.

But then he did.

And he lost it.

Maybe he should feel bad for Princess Tsuyuko. She really was trying hard to help him, and Hiromasa had been her friend, too, but all he could think about was how she wasn't enough. It was hardly fair, but telling her to leave him alone wouldn't be fair, either. She'd been almost as lonely as he was, and taking away his companionship, even as terrible a friend as he was, felt a little too mean for him to do at this point. But he still felt the urge to do it every time she came to visit. He wanted to snap at her, to insult her and drive her away so she'd just let him wallow in his own misery.

Instead, he mostly just said nothing. He didn't particularly listen to her suggestions, and he didn't try to get any better.

Maybe she'd end up tiring of him eventually, anyway.

XXX

Seimei startled awake again, and this time, he found himself dry-heaving as the images from his nightmares replayed behind his eyes. This time, the memories had been twisted so terribly they were almost unrecognizable, but it was so horrifying that he couldn't hold back his revulsion.

For the first time in a while, he'd felt a little relieved once he calmed down.

At least Hiromasa had died quickly in the real world.

XXX

His breath began to hitch, getting caught in his throat. He gripped his hair tightly, pulling at it much too harshly in an attempt to use the pain as an anchor.

He couldn't breathe.

XXX

Someone had come to ask him a favor, now having to come to him directly instead of pestering Hiromasa to ask him on their behalf. Except the lord who came wore the same green robes that he had, and the sight of them made Seimei mistake the man for a moment. He'd gotten out the first two syllables of Hiromasa's name before his mind corrected the mistake.

In the end, he'd refused the task without even listening to what it was and sent the lord on his way.

A single sob ripped its way out his throat, breaking the silence around him, as tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes.

How much longer could he live like this?

XXX