Author's Note:

Firstly, I would like to say happy holidays to everyone. I'm sorry it's been a while.

Secondly, I would like to dedicate this story to my father, who passed away last year.

Although he has never read a word of this, I really owe my love of writing to him, and this this whole story is thanks to him. Whilst my mother is also responsible for having fostered in my sister and I, an insatiable love for reading, he is the one who I think of whenever I want to write.

When I was little, every night he would spend ages making up stories and singing to us to send us off to sleep. It never worked. I would either get too invested in the story (wanting to know what happened next!), or I would want him to sing more of his songs. He never minded. Some of the clearest memories I have of my childhood are of him standing in the doorway, the smile he had when he saw us, and how the hallway light would reflect off his old guitar. His voice was not what you might call a singer's voice, and his stories were rather limited (what with them being built around the adventures of two little girls), but I suppose that is what made it special to me.

And I suppose that is why I was never a good sleeper as a child (and am still not, as an adult).

What I have told him about the "story" I write is how difficult it is sometimes — how I struggle, how I worry. I've told him what a rush I get from putting my writing online, and how my story has reached people all over the world. I've told him how it has given me confidence to put myself out there, and how my skin is thicker for it, and how I love it. How I love it all so much.

It made him smile to hear these things.

So as I end this, I have just two more things to say.

To my readers:

Thank you for following me throughout all of this. I shudder to look back on my writing, especially since these two stories span seven years! I was at school when I started this, and you have essentially watched me growing up — from teenager to adult, from student to graduate. Thank you for supporting me and joining in this adventure.

To my dad:

Thank you for having given me this love for writing, for having always shared in my happiness, and for having made me into the person I am today. Thank you for loving me despite all my flaws, and indulging my endless requests for songs and stories. Thank you for having tried your best despite everything, and for always being there for me. It's been a hard first year without you, and I know it will be many years until it gets any easier. I love you daddy. Rest well.

"My sun sets to rise again."

― Robert Browning

The first two years pass by quickly enough. Then the third one begins, as solemn and understated as ever, and that perhaps is why he drops his guard. And then, before he even realises it, somehow he loses momentum not even halfway through. He finds himself coming to a standstill, the drag of something pulling at his feet.

It is an idea which floats over like a mist, then digs its claws deep into his mind.

Forever doesn't exist.

Nothing lasts.

You think that you will feel like this forever, but soon enough that feeling will pass. You think that things will stay this way forever, but then things change. The idea becomes a warning to himself to not hold onto anything too tightly. Not unless he is prepared to lose them. The only thing he knows for certain is that the memories he carries with him everywhere are safe, because these things are not held. They are a part of him, the same as his heart. The same as his brain, blood and bones. There is no way to separate himself from them. This he knows.

He takes them to work with him. He takes them back home. He takes them around the house as he does his chores. He takes them to bed with him, and wakes up with them in the morning.

"Oh god. Not again," his brother mutters angrily in the third year after Kaname's death.

Zero wants to ask, but neither of them are stupid, and he knows he isn't being the slightest bit subtle in what he's doing. He can't help it though, and whilst he has thought about it at times, it just doesn't seem possible. He knows it would be easier, if he could let go of them. If he did, it might give him a chance to —

It might be easier if he weren't dragging this thing behind him that threatens to bury him alive every day.

"Come on, Zero. You were doing so well. He wouldn't want to see you like this. He'd want you to be happy, you know?"

Of course he knows that, but…

But he can't help but think of the man he found trapped in a mountain, in a cave, in a body that was not his own — how he walked and talked with the confidence of a King, but beneath that arrogance lay the fragile heart of a lonely child. He thinks of his compassion which cost him both his life and reputation. The blood on his hands, the life they could have had, and all that he sacrificed to protect a world of people who wouldn't remember him. He thinks of those hands he held in the dark, and how he could recognise them by touch alone, by smell.

He has barely thought about Kaname for two years, so focused on scraping himself together and mending his broken family that he couldn't find the time to think about him. But now…

Now, he cannot bring himself to let go; not of that man waited for him for over ten thousand years — who never gave up on the idea of a peaceful world, whose kindness and pride led to his own death. Not of these memories. Not of the possibilities that could have been.

Even despite all that came between them, he and Kaname ended up on the same side. There was a dream that they had shared. Zero thinks about it as he starts his day, but most of all when it comes to an end, when he stands in a doorway and counts the steps and breaths it takes to take him to a small twin-bed. This here, he thinks to himself, running a hand over Ryū's messy curls. In what world can he look at this boy and not think about him? Though the boy still doesn't look much like either of them, it is in his manner — in his bearing, the way he speaks, the way he moves. Impossible, he thinks to himself, though part of him wishes it was not.

Zero does not know much children, but he has heard that they are like mirrors of the world around them. Whenever he can see his own reflection in Ryū it frightens him. A child his age shouldn't look so tired all the time, shouldn't be so quiet. It is easy to mistake his silence for rest, and sometimes Zero doesn't even realise he is suffering until he feels his mind fluttering like a candle caught in a breeze.

He wants to be good to Ryū. Wants him to grow up well, to thrive under his care.

But he is hopeless at this.

"If you're so intent on punishing yourself then fine. But don't you care what it's doing to the people around you? But don't you care what you — what it's doing him?"

Don't you care? He wonders how they can possibly think that, and quickly ignores the accusation. What it's doing to him, however, he can't help but think about. The words sting at first, but then it is more like being caught by that glare of breathlessness in the second suspended between dropped vase and shattered landing. There is that mental stumbling, that worry. He keeps on walking though — keeps marching on, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

His mind is loud and his son is quiet. The past is close and everything else is so very far away.

Then one day he hears his brothers talking about going somewhere to escape the cold weather. Zero remembers talking to Kaname about going on holiday. I've always wanted to travel, he'd said to him. This single thought is what starts his spiral downwards.

Time is not a fixed thing for him. He loses trail of it sometimes, because his grief is not quantifiable either. It doesn't increase or diminish, it just lingers. Some days he feels heavier because he is so tired. He lives and breathes and eats but some days he forgets. This time he forgets to breathe, and so Ryū starts screaming and doesn't stop until his brothers come running. The next thing he knows, they are beating on his chest and blowing air down his throat. That is when he starts to realise things are getting out of hand.

Barely aware of his surroundings, he hears a voice in his head.

"We are Bonded, Zero," it says, swirling in a thick mist. "Soul, mind and heart — our lives are bound eternally. Think what this will mean for you when I am dead."

"Come on Zero, don't you dare leave me — don't you fucking dare," is what he comes back to. Then he finds himself being crushed to Kaito's chest, and he clings to him with all his strength, trembling all over.

It's terrifying to think he's been walking blindly through these past few months, none the wiser to how close he was to walking right off a great big cliff. He walked along the edge all this time, utterly deaf to his brothers' warnings. Only his son's screams woke him, and now, listening to Ichiru murmur to Ryū as he sobs his little heart out, all Zero can think is he's not even three years old.

His son has already lost one parent and he's not even three.

It's like being woken from a dream, finding yourself in the middle of a great big ocean with no idea how you got there.

It feels like drowning.

And in that moment he knows that he cannot keep on going like this with all that he is carrying. But what happened? he asks himself as he lies there in Kaito's arms, his heart pounding and chest throbbing. Where did I go wrong? He was doing so well before, only to lose himself this year. All that progress, washed away. All that time, wasted. What changed to make him feel like this? What was it that stole his family, his duties and the new life he was building away from him, and left him on his knees?

"You burnt out," Kaito tells him, as he massages Zero's bruised ribs.

Afterwards he is confined to his bed for a month, during which he starts to dismantle everything piece by piece. Ryū's screams echo in his head every time he is tempted to stop, and it is what he uses to motivate himself to scrape his mind and heart clean of everything belonging to the past.

["The mind is such a powerful thing. Once you believe in something so completely, it becomes the truth that forms the foundation of your everyday life."]

Every time he hesitates he thinks about his son, and his brothers, and how he cannot fail them again. Thoughts, feelings, memories. He throws them into a box and buries them somewhere deep and dark, and far, far away from easy reach. It is excruciating, like peeling the skin and flesh off his bones, but once it is done the pain disappears, along with the guilt. He still feels bad for scaring his son and brothers like that, but that is why he did this, isn't it? To move on.

He wouldn't want me to see me like this, he tells himself. He'd want me to be happy.

But then he pauses, puzzled, and asks himself…

…who is he?

Ryū has never been normal, but Zero thinks the strangest thing about him has to be how careful he is about everything. Even with that raw crackle of power constantly simmering underneath his skin, he seems to have an inexplicable awareness of himself and his surroundings. As an infant he would watch his guardians whenever he tried some new magic, and if they at any point seemed disturbed by what he was doing, he'd stop. Just like that — the magic would vanish. There would be a bright flicker of confusion in his eyes, but then it would dim and morph into something like regret.

He'd retreat into himself for hours afterwards, sometimes even days, dragging that thing behind him like a ball and chain. There has never been a repeat of the walking-on-water incident, and he doesn't tug at their clothing like he did as a baby. They have never meant to discourage Ryū from being anything but himself, but sometimes all it takes is a gasp, a flinch, a stare. Soon enough, he stops playing with the shadows like they're living things, and thinks that coaxing green things out of the frozen winter ground is not what good boys do. Where he learnt to think these things, Zero has no idea. It is not what they taught him, is all he knows, which means he taught it to himself.

For the life of him, Zero cannot understand why Ryū is so determined to conform. Different isn't bad, Ryū, Zero said to him once, but whilst he'd nodded along, he didn't say a word. Any comment on his attitude, any mention of his actions, and he becomes deaf to the rest of whatever else they try to say. Let him be, and then he will listen.

Sometimes though, Ryū forgets to be 'normal'. He is still a child, and like any other child, he makes mistakes.

There was one day when they couldn't find him anywhere. They searched all over the house and eventually found him curled up in the burning fireplace. A lot of screaming ensued, but after Zero got burnt all the way up to his elbows from pulling him out of the flames, they found the boy completely unharmed albeit mildly disgruntled at being disturbed from his nap. When Ryū saw the damage to his mother's arms he cried so much that Zero thought he would be sick, but when he realised that his arms didn't hurt anymore he grabbed Ryū tightly. Look, he had said, showing him his arms which were soaked with Ryū's tears which apparently can magically heal burns how cool right? Look, he'd said helplessly, I'm okay, over and over, but he knew that his silly boy would see nothing past his tears.

Because whilst like every other child, Ryū makes mistakes — unlike them, he punishes himself.

On the one hand it is good that Ryū is committed to being careful with his powers, but the fact that he is so dedicated to disciplining himself that it borders on obsessive is frankly worrying. With each lesson he teaches himself, Zero swears he can hear a whip cracking. His eyes are so dull these days, and a little voice whispers to Zero: this is not how it should be. He is more than this. Zero agrees.

He pictures a bear cub stuffed in a tiny cage with barely any room to walk, let alone stand. Caged animals don't live for long. They bite and claw themselves bloody. They die more from broken spirits than malformed bones.

We didn't put him in there, Zero tries to argue.

Maybe not, but you must set him free, the voice replies. After all, life in a cage is no life at all.

How do you free a person from a cage they have built themselves though? How do you talk to someone who won't listen? For some reason, Zero considers screaming. Shouting at him might shock him out of his downwards spiral. Surely that will work?

But then he gets the feeling that it won't. He's no expert in handling children, but shouting at them has never been his way.

And Ryū is a quiet child. He exists in silence.

What, then?

Help me, he begs the voice, but there is no answer.

He has little hope for Ryū changing his ways. He is as stubborn as Zero himself, and what he thinks he knows he believes wholeheartedly. It's clear that all of this stems from the belief that his powers make him dangerous. A guilty part of Zero wonders whether it is a remnant of his past fears during his pregnancy come back to haunt them. Kaito tries to speak to Ryū in his own language: a gun can't hurt anybody if the one holding it doesn't want to shoot, he says. A clumsy but apt metaphor that leaves his brothers biting their cheeks. Ryū doesn't smile though, and Ryū doesn't listen.

I can't understand it, Ichiru says to Zero in a whisper, eyes frantic. It's like he can't hear us anymore. Zero, please — do something.

What can he do?

It's not like anything they've done or said has managed to change his mind yet. Zero knows what it's like to be scared of who you are. To hate yourself so much that you wish you didn't exist. The problem is that as far as they know, Ryū could potentially make that happen. Whatever he imagines is a possibility, whatever he wishes can come true. Every time Ryū withdraws a little further into his shell Zero swears he can sense him fading, and the terrifying thought comes to him: what if he does? What if he disappears one day, right before their very eyes?

Zero watches Ryū fiddle with a pen, his clumsy fingers struggling to hold it steady. There are two basic motivators in life: love and fear. The latter has Ryū tight in it's clutches, and not just him — Zero too, and Kaito, and Ichiru. He is keeping the gun aimed at himself. Point it at me, Zero wants to say. That way we'll both be safe.

It's at that moment that his breath stutters. Finally, he hears the voice again.

"I think it's a side-effect of not using magic… I never realised how much I used it before, but now that I can't, it feels like I'm about to explode. It's not… a nice feeling."

What is this? he wonders. It's like he's heard this before. Then he hears himself speak.

"I never realised it was like that for you."

"It is as natural to me as breathing. I've always had it."

As natural as breathing —

Things come to him quickly then. Months of walking through life in a daze, seeing the past flicker in his vision every time he blinked. He held it close to him, carried it with him everywhere. For almost a year he traded his sanity for sorrow, and in the end he paid the price. I stopped breathing, Zero remembers, recalling how his chest that ached for days afterwards.

It's been four years now. That's all in the past. He learnt from his mistakes, and now so must Ryū.

Why does this feel so familiar though? Beyond the fact that he's remembered a lesson he learnt years ago, this feels like he's discovering something else. Something more. Another memory of another person's mistake. It feels like he's done this before too — tried to make someone abandon their guilt. Tried to keep them from giving up. Tried to set them free.

For the life of him, Zero cannot remember who the person was, only how his heart bled for them as it is doing again for Ryū. As he watches Ryū staring blankly into space, the thought comes to him without warning: it would be so like your father for you to care so little about yourself; to think that you matter less than the people around you.

And just like that, he remembers who that person was.

Him, oh him.

The one I used to love, he thinks, the one I tried to forget. The past digs its way out of the dirt and reaches for him with familiar hands. It comes to him with a face that he adored. Eyes the colour of wine, lips that seldom smiled. His smell, his taste, his soulful gaze. The handful of years they spent together and the millennia they spent apart. All of it comes to him, from where they began in a mountain pass to where it ended in the snow.

Looking at his son and seeing him as he is right then, his deepest fear makes itself known. You're so much like him that sometimes I worry that you might just —

But then Zero stops, right before he can think it aloud. There is a tightness in his chest, and he forces himself to breathe. Some of his panic must slip though to Ryū, because something flickers across his son's face, and —

Ah, that's why he's not supposed to think of him. Now Zero remembers.

I stopped breathing because I wanted to be with him, he finally admits to himself, after all these years. He's not supposed to think about Kaname because of this.

Kaname, Zero thinks, his pulse jumping, oh, his name was Kaname —

No, stop — just stop.

Thinking about him is dangerous. It brings back all those cursed memories. Remembering means his mind is full of the past, and what he remembers Ryū remembers. Giving Ryū a reference for what he can do and what he can become doesn't bear thinking about. His brothers told him long ago never to give Ryū that opportunity.

It's not safe, Ichiru had said, for him to try and follow in his father's footsteps. Look where it got him.

Think about the spell, had been Kaito's simple warning. (They'd discussed it at length many times. As far as they'd understood it, the stipulation that Kaname made was exactly as he told Zero: he will not remember me, or anything about me. Zero it word-for-word, and words spoken like that are usually binding, which would mean that if Ryū was allowed to remember him it would most likely break the spell.)

But more than that, Kaito had added later, think about where you are now. Leave the past in the past, Zero. We need you here.

You're right, you're right, but now that Zero remembers the past comes rushing in, and he cannot help but wonder whether there's any point trying to hold it back. All the pain of casting Kaname out of his mind, that miserable month spent trying his hardest to forget, and look where it got him. Here, with his heart still in pieces. Here, with his husband's ghost whispering in his ear.

He is a part of him, the same as his heart. The same as his brain, blood and bones.

He kept telling himself: he's dead, he's dead, but it never took away from the fact that he'd lived. That he'd walked alongside Zero once, hand-in-hand down an aisle. That he gave Zero his blood and his joy and his life. That there was a dream they shared once — a dream Zero plucked from the snow, and carried with him ever since.

This here, Zero thinks as he gazes at Ryū and remembers running his fingertips through baby-soft hair. He moves without meaning to, and suddenly his hands are resting on that same head, combing through that same curly hair.

"Ryū," he breathes.

Emotions flood his senses, flowing from him to Ryū in an endless stream. The memories come and come and come, and he cannot keep them to himself any longer. It has been too long and the spell can go fuck itself. He will not lose Ryū like he lost his father. The only way he will listen to him is if he tries something he has never tried before. Something different. Something new.

Zero closes his eyes and pictures a man dispersing into a cloud of bats. Here, he thinks, showing Ryū his father in his most monstrous form: black eyes, bone-white skin and fangs, but his eyes sparkling with mirth. Here, Zero thinks fondly, as he shows the way Kaname used to twirl as he flew up into the sky, delighting at the way Zero would hurl insults and curses at him all the way.

Ryū twitches under his hand.

Yes, Zero says, showing him all the things that Kaname could do, from the extraordinary to the mundane. Most of it magical. All of it different.

In this moment Zero is struck by the loss of Kaname so intensely that his vision blurs. He's not allowed himself to feel this way in years. It is not just that he wishes Kaname could be here to help Ryū, but that he misses him too. He yearns for the essence of him. The heart of him. The part of the world he used to occupy and the unfathomable wisdom he used to possess. In this moment Zero cannot breathe with how raw the feeling is, even after all this time.

Come back to me, his heart begs, even as a shadow. Even as a dream.*

He is shaken from his thoughts by the sound of Ryū's pen clattering to the floor. The boy's eyes are so big and his mind is wide open. He cannot remember the last time he saw Ryū like this.

"There you are," Zero murmurs, pressing trembling lips to Ryū's temple. Zero lets him be for a while, content just to be there, cupping his soft cheek in the palm of his hand. He has barely shown him anything. There is still so much more, but he wants to keep Kaname's smiles for later. He needs time to remember it properly himself — perfectly, right down to the precise angle of his lips and glint in his eyes.

Ryū carefully closes the book on his lap and scoots back in his seat.

Zero follows him with that motion. Ryū's mind is abuzz, and he marvels at how beautiful it is. The usual peach-honey clouds are splashed with joyful gold.

"Different isn't bad," he tells Ryū, for the hundredth time.

This time Ryū opens his mouth, but then his jaw closes with a snap. He cannot argue with what he has seen, especially the fact that none of it was bad. He's a clever child though. He knows that just because he hasn't seen it doesn't mean it isn't possible.

"Ryū?" Zero asks carefully, watching his son as he clearly struggles to accept this new lesson. "Everything is a choice. Everyone is capable of terrible things, but that doesn't necessarily mean they will do them. Just because you can doesn't mean you should."

Ichiru's warning rings in Zero's mind then, it's not safe for him to try and follow in his father's footsteps. Doubts come then — worries brought to mind, of what he might be exposing Ryū to by showing him Kaname. It is tempting to follow Kaname wherever he goes — to walk in the footsteps of someone like him, but some of those places you cannot come back from. Look where it got him, Ichiru had said. Zero tosses his doubts aside though, heeding his own words slightly altered: just because he can doesn't mean he will.

I will not lose him, Zero promises himself, watching Ryū for any clue as to what he might be thinking.

"Ryū?" he prompts again, when he cannot bear the silence any longer.

The boy carefully lays his book down, and asks instead, "Can you tell me what my father was like?"

"Your… father?" Zero says.

Hasn't he told him? Ah, but he wants more than that. He wants to know his voice, his touch, his smile. He doesn't answer for a while, Ryū patient but expectantly looking at him. Where to begin?

"He was special," Zero finally says, looking down at his hands and remembering every time he ever touched Kaname. Every time he held his hand. His sleepy breath against his ear. I'll always be able to reach you, magic or not. The sweetness of his blood on his tongue. I'm here, Zero. I'm right here.

These are not things for Ryū to know. Zero doesn't know where to start or what to give him.

"Special," Ryū echoes, seeming to recognise that Zero will not say anything else. Not right now at least. He does not push.

Zero nods and tries to think of what he can tell him. The only thing he can come up with is so unnecessary he almost doesn't say it, but then he does.

"Like you."

It isn't much, and yet when Ryū hears this, he smiles.

Zero has an inkling as to where he went wrong.

Showing Ryū only a few, carefully selected memories of Kaname was like giving him a small taste of something, but not the full meal. It's like drinking blood, Zero reasons, one sip is never enough. All it does is generate more hunger, more thirst for more blood. He can feel Ryū wanting more than the bare details. Hungering for more than he thinks he's allowed.

Presenting the problem to his brothers like this goes just as well as you might expect.

Neither of them are pleased to hear that Zero has been showing Ryū anything at all.

"We didn't agree to this!" Kaito explodes, and Zero has to concur. They most definitely hadn't. "How long has this been going on?"

Zero tries to appeal to his twin instead with the excuse that: "You told me to do something, so I did."

Ichiru's eyes bulge. "Yes, but not that!" He shuffles to Kaito's side, clearly drawing lines between them. "Zero, what were you thinking?"

Zero tells them exactly what he was thinking. It's what he's thinking now: Ryū has a right to know about Kaname. It's as simple as that, he says, but there is more. We were losing him, he says, so I gave him something to keep him here, with us. I took a chance, and I don't regret it.

Ever since Ryū started learning exactly how his father was different like him, he has wanted to know more, but Zero has been holding back. Years of repression has meant that his caution is now a habit. Recently though, he can't help but wonder: doesn't the fact that he's told him even the little that he has done, mean that the spell is already broken? In which case, what is the harm in telling him all of it?

"We don't know that for sure," Kaito says in response to that, looking ten years older than he should as he drags a hand down his face. "There's no way of knowing what might happen."

"A lot is resting on that spell staying intact," Ichiru says with that frown that seems to be permanently carved into his forehead. Idly, Zero wonders when his brothers started looking so old. "Do you really want to risk it? I mean think about it, Zero."

Zero has. He thinks about it all the time — what are the risks? What might happen? But then he thinks of what the spell does and what the purpose for it even was originally. Kaname wanted to give Ryū a chance to grow into his powers by suppressing them for him, but now they know there was never any need for it. Ryū does all the suppressing by himself. They've seen what he's like: how strong-willed he is, how careful and mindful of himself he is. He keeps himself under such tight control that it's actually become the very problem they are discussing.

What are the risks? Ichiru asks him. Do you really want to take them?

If the risk is losing him, Zero wants to say, then of course I do.

The risk of Ryū fading is still ever present. Whenever Zero holds back on a memory, he can practically feel Ryū's mind closing off. There's a sense of loneliness that follows him like a hungry dog, ready to swallow him up at the slightest hint of weakness. Zero watches him go to school with a mix of Human, Hunter and Vampire children, and all he can think is that Ryū is the only one of his kind. He is all of them and none of them, and he comes back home with all sorts of questions.

What did your father do for a living? Ryū has no idea, and once when Zero found him staring at his homework assignment for far too long he paused to see what was wrong. Ryū's mind was static again, just like it was when he was younger. He could almost imagine it as if it were a mouse caught under a cat's paw. Describe your father in two thousand words, it said on the page. Even though Ryū hadn't written anything yet, there was only one word he'd know.

Special, he would write. Or maybe three. Like me, he could add. And that would be it.

You never have to ask if someone is starving because the signs of their suffering are often plain to see. The same applies here, only in this case… in this case —

It's like blood, Zero tries to say to his brothers again, it's a thirst that grows and grows. Of course they don't get it. They don't know what it's like to have that constant hunger in your veins.

Zero hears whispers of Ryū's thoughts spilling over. He worries that they don't trust him. Worse, he thinks they don't care. He thinks that his father must have been some kind of monster to warrant this sort of avoidance. What other conclusions can he draw from the little he knows about Kaname? Special, he asks Zero with wounded eyes. How special was he to you, if you cannot bear to speak of him? How special am I to you, if you say we are so alike?

"Did he really say that?" Kaito asks, peeling his hands away from his face. "Is that really what he thinks?"

What else is he supposed to think with what little he knows? His face must say this, because Kaito lets out an explosive sigh. Ichiru gawks at him, dismayed.

"But the spell — "

"Fuck the spell," Kaito mutters lowly. "Fuck all of it. The world can rot for all I care. We've done all we can."

Ichiru's breath hitches. He seems lost for words. Zero knows he isn't arguing out of pettiness — that the reason for his reluctance is borne from years of this which has also made it become a habit. His instinct, as always, is to seek the path with the least danger and try to keep them all from straying off it.

"We've done enough," Kaito growls, and storms off without another word. They watch Kaito leave in silence, but after a while Ichiru claps Zero on the shoulder before hurrying after him. It is all the permission Zero needs.

Zero searches for Ryū and finds him tucked in an armchair, his nose buried in yet another thick yellow-paged book. The image draws upon a memory and this time, he lets it come. Ryū's face distorts in his mind, blurring and sharpening, and eventually transforming into Kaname's — the boy's head snaps up at that. Their eyes lock, and Zero sees that burning curiosity rise up in Ryū, but he keeps his lips tightly sealed. Keeps his questions to himself.

It's okay, he soothes. Ask. Look. I'm letting you.

Zero opens up his mind, and finally, finally, lets his son see his father properly for the first time. It doesn't matter what Zero gives to Ryū, only that it is about Kaname, and it is given to him willingly. His stony expression melts away, and in its place a look of such awe that Zero's eyes sting with tears. Ryū's heart goes rabbit-fast, mouth softening and eyes glossing over.

"Is that…"

Zero nods, then bites his finger and walks over to him. Blood isn't necessary, what with the bond he and Ryū share, but now Zero thinks he might just be making a point. What does blood mean to him? What does it mean, given freely? Without hesitation, without fear?

Blood is different to everyone, but to me it means sacrifice. To me it means love.

Kaname was right when he said that blood wasn't something Zero ever wanted. He knows now, it was always something he wanted to give. There are some things only blood can hold. More than words can say, more than memories can reveal.

He hasn't fed Ryū blood since he was a toddler. Hasn't felt the need to since he went on solid food, and with his memories sealed away he had no idea what he was keeping from his son. The first droplet of Zero's blood hitting the air makes them both inhale deeply. A thousand warm feelings well up inside him as Ryū inadvertently makes that little noise he used to as a baby, the sweet memory of rocking him during nighttime feedings making Zero smile as he presses his finger to Ryū's lips. Ryū licks the blood away and his eyes film over.

It isn't immediately obvious to Zero that his memories are being shared. At first he thinks that they aren't coming through — that it isn't working. It's like having a dam burst only to find that the lake has already dried up, but then there is a trickle… a memory just as mundane as the ones he gave to him before, this one of Kaname reading in his study. And then there is more, and more.

They well up like spring-water, faster than Zero can hold them back, and then it becomes a veritable flood. They don't come as words, but like dreams, rising as scent from the rain-soaked ground. He sees Kaname pacing up and down with that pinched look on his face he used to make when he was arguing with himself. He sees him shooting Aidou that fond, yet exasperated smile as the genius waffles on and on about something no one is really understands. He smells him and tastes the sweet ambrosia of his blood, but it is the simple smell of him that Zero tries to impart most strongly. The smell of old books his father so treasured, the roses that he loved so much.

This, Zero tells him with his blood. This and this. Held in that one tiny droplet, so many moments crowding forward.

It changes things. He feeds Ryū his blood now, and more and more each day. Slowly but surely, Ryū allows himself to do what is in his nature to do. When Ichiru trips and cracks his elbow on the floor, he heals it for him. When Kaito curses at the abysmal weather, he peels the clouds apart to reveal vibrant blue skies. When he can't bear the chill that often creeps into the house, he crawls into the fireplace and Zero tucks coals around him and sets them alight.

As soon as his brothers see what he is doing, to Zero's pleasant surprise, they join in. At first they try with words. Kaito lists all the ways Kaname used to annoy him, from breathing too quietly to thinking too loudly, but then he closes his eyes for a long while, and then he cuts his wrist at the crease. Here, he sighs, and shows him all the times he caught himself laughing at Kaname's odd quips, and all the ways Kaname proved how much he truly trusted Kaito in the end. Ichiru tries to tell him how generous Kaname was, how kind he was to Ichiru in every situation… but then his smile freezes on his face, and his words trickle to a stop. Words fail him. Here, he whispers instead, slicing his palm across the middle. After all, there are some things only blood can hold, better than words can ever hope to express. Reluctant or willing, it is obvious how grateful Ryū is for every single drop.

One day though, Zero is startled by a sharp cry from upstairs and a crack of thunder that shakes the house down to the foundations. Kaito comes hurtling into the room, his face completely white. He's dragging Ichiru behind with him, and Zero sees a smear of blood on his wrist.

"What happened?" Zero demands, already on his feet. A blast of cold air billows down from upstairs, a sheen of frost creeping over every surface in the room.

"Go," Kaito prompts in lieu of an answer, struggling to hold Ichiru up. As far as Zero can see he's not injured, but he looks like he's in shock. Zero's mind whirls with the implications, but Kaito gives him no time to think more on it. "Zero, he needs you — "

Zero moves faster than he has in years. Drawn to his son by a gut feeling, he finds him in his favourite safe-place. The coals are not lit yet and the room is freezing. Zero approaches him slowly, crouching down to peer under the mantle. Ryū is curled up so tightly that he can only see the top of his curly head and the curve of his spine.

When he turns around, Zero staggers backwards. No, no, no.

The memory Ichiru unwittingly fed him erupts from Ryū, the impact of it knocking him flat on his ass. It comes all at once, with no pause for breath. There is Kaname lying on the red snow. There is his body hardening into crystal. There is his baby trapped under a frozen arm. Snap it off, Kaname gasps out, eyes fixed on Zero's. Do it.

He is unable to stop his own memories of that day from spilling forth. It is as if they were waiting for the opportunity to be shared. It comes to him: there is the horrid sound of that limb snapping, the rush to hold Kaname in his arms for the last time, the horrifying realisation that he can't as crystal and starlight feast on Kaname's body, leaving him as cold and brittle as glass. There is the anger and the numbness flooding his veins at the shock of him suddenly being gone. It's all coming back. By Ichiru's blood, Zero sees himself wrapping his husband in tendrils of lace-like vines, the look in his eyes eerily blank — and then it happens.

Zero can hear it: the shattering. That awful sound, like bones grinding. He, who Zero has loved for all these ages, smashed into nothing. He sees it from Ichiru's eyes, and feels it in Ryū's heart, and it is agony to relive that moment.

"I remember it," Ryū whispers then, so quietly that Zero thinks he might have misheard him, but then it is Zero's turn to gasp. "I saw…"

There is that dream that haunted Zero throughout his pregnancy: that vision Ryū had since foresaw from the moment of his conception. The fact that Ryū had been trying to warn Zero all that time and yet, he did nothing to stop it from happening. Ryū knows, Zero thinks dully, and knowing has done nothing except bringing him more pain and guilt.

As Zero fights through the unending torrent of rage and grief pouring out from Ryū, it dawns on him that this is why Ryū hates the cold so much. Even without realising it, he remembered. Even without any memory of the event, his soul still bears the scars from that day. That's why, Zero thinks, as many of Ryū's quirks suddenly start making sense: why Ryū has no interest in playing in the snow with his cousins; why he doesn't like being held too tightly, yet cannot bear to be parted from Zero for too long; why he cannot let people go without saying goodbye to them multiple times; why he has such a hard time going to sleep at night.

He cannot stand the cold, Zero thinks, clenching his jaw. I should have known. I should have realised.

Zero hauls Ryū out of the ashes and into his arms. He is still crying, but as always Ryū is quick to control his emotions. The pain is fresh and rooted deeply, and Zero knows that it is something Ryū will revisit by himself. Every muscle in Ryū's body is tight and still, and yet his mind writhes like a fish caught in a net.

"He died for me, didn't he?" Ryū asks, maybe minutes, maybe hours later.

The guilt — will Zero ever be able to wrestle it away from him now? Probably not, considering who his father is. In that case, most definitely not.

"No," Zero says, trying his best to keep his breaths steady. "Ryū, you mustn't blame yourself. This is why we didn't tell you. He chose to do what he did and no one could have stopped him including you."

There is an image Zero pushes towards Ryū. It is the only one of it's kind: a precious, single memory that he kept all to himself over the years of their last night together. Despite the edges of the memory made fuzzy from the drug, Zero focuses on Kaname being there with them. You were crying, he explains to Ryū, because you knew what was going to happen. He took you away from me. He cannot remember the details of that fateful night, but he remembers seeing Kaname rocking Ryū in his arms and how he lingered at the door. He didn't want to leave us. He wanted to stay more than anything.

Ryū is crying again, his little body trembling all over, but something cracks open between them. Zero hadn't even been aware of the door between their minds sliding more and more shut over the years as his son became more isolated by his self-hate. Despite the fact that Zero has recently started opening up to him, maybe Ryū sensed there was still something important he was holding back. Now that there is literally nothing left, the door swings open and Ryū's mind rushes over Zero in waves. Peach-honey clouds dripping with grey desolation. The dark void of losing something. That heavy, sinking weight.

Then there is that ever-so-comforting, ever-so-familiar rhythm of their hearts beating together again.

He's crying too now, in earnest. Of course he is. He clutches Ryū to him and cries and cries.

Holding Ryū, he tries to remember anything — anything else he can of Kaname and Ryū together that he can show him. There isn't much. Desperate, he drags up other memories instead. This is the sound he made walking, the rhythm of his footsteps coming near. This is what he looked like when he was scared. This is how his hand felt like held in mine.

Ryū lingers over every little detail as if brushing his fingers over fragile old photographs. He hopes he is painting an accurate picture of the person Kaname had been. The reverence and awe he feels coming from Ryū has him worried that he is being too kind, but then to Zero's utter shock he feels Ryū press a finger to his lips. He licks the blood he smears over his lips, and in that instant he is thrown into Ryū's memory of that night.

Everything is made blurry through his young eyes, especially since he'd been crying at the time, but Zero's heart flutters at the sound of Kaname's voice. Through Ryū's ears all he hears is a deep, low rumble. The words do not make sense, but it hardly matters. The world tilts, and then he is peering up at his husband's face. Oh, he thinks, gazing up into dark, warm eyes. Oh, he thinks, tracing those lips and that jaw with his eyes.

There was a bird, Ryū says, pulling him out of his trance, and he points out to Zero that yes, there is a bird perched on the arm not cradling Ryū. It is large and black and utterly silent, and Zero gapes, because if he's not mistaken that is Ulli. The owl blinks solemnly at Ryū with its large, round eyes whilst at the same time it seems to be listening to Kaname.

Brave is the only word he can discern from the muffled rumble Ryū hears, but suddenly he knows exactly what Kaname is saying and what he's doing. His eyes flick to the crook of Kaname's arm, and yes — there is the book tucked there. The Count of Monte Cristo. The book in which Kaname hid his final message to Zero which gave him the answers to why he did what he did, and what it meant for all of them. It wasn't a raven's feather. Zero realises that now as he watches Ulli twist around to pluck a long black feather from his back.

What was it Kaname had said?

"The bravest thing a person can do is to love someone. To love them with all your heart."

Zero doesn't even get a moment to dwell on the pressure suddenly building in his ribs, behind his eyes. The dreaded question comes on the heel of this, even before Ryū brings the memory to a close.

"Were you in love with him?" he asks.

Zero is wrenched out so fast that that he finds his mind still spinning with everything, his heart beating painfully in his chest — but then he registers Ryū's question. Did I love him? he asks himself, and wonders why it is even a question at all.

"What?"

Ryū frowns at him, fiddling with his sleeve. "I asked whether you were in love with him."

Ridiculous. Zero bites his tongue. He never liked the taste of his own blood, but focusing on it stops him from instinctively lashing out at Ryū. Was I in love with him? How utterly ridiculous.

"Why would you ask that?" he finally whispers.

Ryū is still frowning, but his gaze falls to the floor.

"For so long none of you would talk about him. I didn't even know his name," he says softly. "I didn't know what to think. Whether it was because he'd done something… unspeakable, or simply because you didn't like him — "

"No," he blurts out, wanting to crush that idea before it can fully form.

"So you — "

"Yes."

He does not elaborate.

Ryū doesn't speak for a while, but he hasn't finished yet. There are still a million questions waiting to be asked, even with everything laid out between them.

"How many years has it been, mama?"

There's really no way of knowing. If he were to count back to his first life then it's been over ten thousand years since they met. Ten thousand years, and he realises he has loved Kaname longer than the time they have been together.

He's dead, he's dead, Zero tells himself this with every beat of his heart. With every day he spends living, he can smell him in the rain and the dust, his presence clinging to everything like smoke from a funeral pyre.

"Several," he mutters.

It is the truth if several means for as long as I can remember.

"I miss him," Ryū says, twisting around to look at him. "Is that…"

"That's fine."

Of course you do, he doesn't say. So do I, for all the ways he has wronged me. For all the times he kept secrets from me. I miss what I knew of him, and yearn for what I didn't.

"Does it ever stop?"

Wait another ten thousand years, Zero doesn't say, and then you can tell me.

Now that the between them door is open again, Ryū's mind seep into Zero's almost every night.

He dreams a lot.

Most of the time the dreams are pretty straightforward. Ryū will wake to tell them what they should wear for the day, whether that be thick coats and umbrellas, or if they shouldn't even bother taking a jacket. One time he told Kaito to pack a proper suitcase when he was preparing to go see his daughter for the weekend, and sure enough: his return flight was cancelled, and due to bad weather and delays he had to stay away for an extra week.

Most of the time the dreams are useful but nothing too exciting. Take the bus today, mama, he'll say, and in doing so will save Zero from a two-hour traffic jam. Empty your pockets before you do laundry, he'll tell Ichiru, and in doing so Ichiru will find himself a thousand yen richer.

Although Zero is very used to tagging along with Ryū on his nighttime adventures, that brief period when Ryū was close to shutting his mind to him makes him truly appreciate what he'd almost lost forever. It is a privilege to watch Ryū at work, to see him sift through an endless stream of possible futures and know from feel which one is theirs.

How do you know? he asked him once, but the boy was unable to find a good answer.

I just do, he'd said, plucking a shimmering ribbon out of the swirling haze. This one, he'd announced, showing Zero himself two days from now having just dropped his phone down the toilet. I'll remind you to put it to charge instead, Ryū had told him, clearly amused.

No need, Zero had replied, and sure enough his phone narrowly avoided a very wet death that coming week.

Part of him wonders if it's possible that the future only happens the way Ryū decides it, but then he dismisses that thought as being too crazy, even for them. Ryū doesn't have any control over what he dreams, but they come to him telling him what will happen, and he always seems to know which ones to listen to. Now that they are dreaming together again, Zero can't help but notice one that keeps coming to him, again and again.

It doesn't make any sense, and he can tell that Ryū is just as baffled by it as him. It is muddled and chaotic and abstract in every sense of the word. He wonders what could possibly be deduced from such random details. Ryū, being just as intrigued by it, hones in on the dream, and together they try to work out what exactly they are seeing.

The first part is mostly a sensation: lying underwater whilst looking up through the surface at the sky overhead. With it comes the sound of rocks scraping the waterbed and the cool clink of pebbles knocking together as they're swept by the tide. Zero swears he can hear the cry of a seagull, but then their perspective abruptly changes to sinking down down down, till they are submerged in a deep, dark place. It is strangely comfortable to be surrounded by warmth and darkness and be allowed to rest there.

It still doesn't make any sense where they are though, nor what any of those other parts of the dream mean. That bothers him mildly, but he is content for the most part.

Listen, Ryū says when he finds himself bedding down in the darkness. Zero does. There is an odd sort of clicking noise, like the chittering of critters but much closer and much louder. Smell, Ryū says, and Zero takes in a deep breath and almost chokes. A thick, peaty odour clogs up his nostrils, making him gag at the stench of rotting things. We must be underground, Ryū says, and Zero has to agree, and then there is nothing but panic as he thinks we're trapped underground can't breathe can't breathe we're going to suffocate but then —

Then there is the feeling of being dragged through the soil, sucked up through the tiniest pockets of air between loamy earth and sharp rock. They are thrust from the deepest darkness up towards the light, and then there is water again. Before he can consider this, he is lifted by something and swept along, and then they are undulating through the stream with muscles and glittering fins propelling them through the water. That makes them a fish swimming against the current — a fish swimming upstream for some bizarre reason. Abruptly they are dumped somewhere, and then once again there is an endless voyage through rock and soil, but this time they are dragged up higher than they've ever been before. They surface on a field of green. Grass, Ryū tells him, and Zero agrees that it is grass. They are on above ground again.

Lying there on the grass and revelling in the wonderful clean scent of fresh air, Zero cannot for the life of him understand what is happening. The relief only lasts a short moment, and then it feels like a shadow has fallen upon them. Though the sun is bright and plentiful, Zero feels cold down to his bones.

What's happening, Ryū? he asks, but his son shushes him.

It's not over yet. Look, he says instead, and the world blurs as their view tilts backwards. They stare up at the strangest sky Zero has ever seen. Enormous billowing pink clouds seem to hang from the sky. Tiny pieces of cloud seem to break off and flutter down towards them. The clouds are streaked by what looks like thick veins of black lightning. Something about the sight gives him an odd sense of deja vu, and a sharp pain lances through his chest. There is the tightness there, like he's choking back tears.

Impossible, Zero finds himself thinking, as he blinks the blurriness away. That can't be real.

And that's the thing about Ryū's dreams: they're always real. Even the most unbelievable things he's seen (such as when he saw Seiren shave her hair down till it was barely an inch long, or when Aidou managed to somehow burn his eyebrows off with laundry detergent) have always come true. How can pink clouds and black lightning possibly be real, then? Such things don't exist in this world, Ryū.

What if they do, but they're just not what they seem?

Zero hums, accepting this possibility. After all, Ryū is the master here, not him. They wake from the dream and continue with their day, but it is a dream that just keeps coming and coming. As far as Zero knows, only one other dream has ever been this persistent.

Blinding white snow. A crushing weight on his body. The bitter cold.

Back then it didn't make sense to him either, but then in the end it did. Thinking about it, Zero can't shake the feeling that this dream might be the same sort of thing, wherein these seemingly random bits and pieces might actually be leading towards something. The sheer number of times they have seen it feels significant. Pay attention, it seems to be saying. I'm trying to show you something. You aren't paying attention.

"But I am," Zero mutters, this time upon waking. "I just don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

After blinking away pink clouds and coughing out the last of the stench of earth, he finds Kaito staring down at him looking at him with both eyebrows raised. When Zero merely squints up at him dazedly, still lost in the feeling of swimming and crawling and being entombed in dirt, he purses his lips.

"O-kay then," he says slowly, puttering around the room with the armful of clothes he'd been putting away. "You're acting sorta weird, you know? You don't normally talk in your sleep. Weird dream?"

Zero shudders and claps both hands over his ears. How many times has it been now? How many times has he looked up at pink clouds and lost himself deep beneath the earth? He can't get the hollow sound of rocks knocking against each other out of his head, and the bitter taste of dirt seems to have stained his tongue —

"Zero." Distantly, he feels Kaito grasp him by the wrists. "Zero, what is it? What's wrong?" And then Kaito's voice grows muffled, and drifts away.

Am I going mad? Zero wonders. Maybe this is why Ryū is the only one with these powers. Maybe only he can handle looking into the future without losing his mind. It never hurt him before though. All those other times he followed Ryū into his dreamscape and watched him, no other dream has stuck with him like this.

But now, every time he closes his eyes he feels like he's being buried alive. Even with him pressing his hands to his ears, the piercing cry of the seagull rattles in his skull. What does it mean? What does it all mean? He wants to scream, but it seems that someone else is already screaming. Zero can hear his brothers panicked voices emerge from the background, and then two small hands grab him by the cheeks, dragging him out of his head.

"Breathe," Ryū says.

Zero shakes his head. He doesn't want to smell that putrid stench again. He doesn't want to inhale water. What if he drowns?

"It's okay. It's over now. Just breathe."

The noises stop, and suddenly Zero is very aware that his bedsheets are drenched in sweat and his throat feels raw. Even his brothers have shut up, though their concern is as loud as if they were still shouting.

"What the fuck was that?" Kaito barks, eyes darting nervously between him and Ryū.

"It's okay." Ryū is as serene as ever, though his eyes are wet and his fingers bite into Zero's thigh. "It's over now. I stopped it."

"Over?" Zero croaks. What does he mean, over? "Stopped what?"

"It was just a nightmare," Ryū insists, smiling thinly. "But it won't happen again. I won't allow it."

Nightmare? What does he mean he won't 'allow it'? What on earth is he saying?

"Ryū — " Zero starts, but then he remembers Ryū doesn't have any control over what he dreams. In which case, that means —

"Really, it's okay," Ryū says for the third time, squeezing Zero's hands. "I can take care of it."

"It's mine," Zero blurts, stunned by the realisation. The dream is mine. He locks eyes with his son and feels his mind fluttering around him. All this time he thought the dream was Ryū's, when in fact — "It's mine, isn't it?"

"What's yours?" Kaito cuts in angrily. "What the fuck are you both going on about?"

Zero ignores him, mind awhirl from all the nights that they've been dreaming, no — that he's been dreaming. It is his dream, not Ryū's, they are being tormented by, which means… "Does that mean it won't come true?" he asks.

Ryū chews on his lip. He has never seen Ryū hesitate before. This is his thing that he knows better than anyone else. For a moment Zero is bitterly disappointed, but then he scolds himself. Why should Ryū have to know everything? He is just a child. And yet…

[How do you know? he had asked Ryū once. I just do, he had replied.]

He always seems to know which futures will come to pass, out of all the ones he sees. He seems to know, whether by touch or feel, which one is theirs. This dream may belong to Zero, but what does it mean that it came to Ryū? Does that mean that despite everything, amongst all those muddled details lies a hidden message? Such things don't exist in this world, he'd said to Ryū — to the boy who, against all odds, should not exist either. If all these seemingly random bits and pieces might actually be a warning of something coming, then…

Oh hell no. If that's the case then he isn't going to sit around on his ass like last time, waiting for it to come.

When Zero thinks about what happened to Kaname, and what he did and what became of him, mostly he finds himself filled with shame. He regrets his role in what happened, because in the end he believes that he could have done something. Even if there was no way to predict Kaname's secret plan, he should have guessed that he was up to something. He should have known Kaname well enough to know that if the last thing he has to bargain with for their safety was his life he'd quite happily give it.

The selfish bastard.

He should have followed him. Should have. Should have, should have, should have — anything. Literally done anything more than he had done, and it could have made a difference.

Just a nightmare, Ryū had said, but Zero doesn't think it was 'just' an anything anymore. Call him crazy, call him paranoid, but after all he has seen and done, dismissing it as nothing sounds about as good as sticking your head in the sand. And this dream… he knows in his heart that it is telling him — no, warning him to act. To do something before it is too late.

And so, as his family flutter around him trying to offer him comfort and support, Zero nods along but his mind is a million miles away.

(On a snow-covered lake, with vines spilling out from his fingertips, and diamonds dusting his knees.)

Under his brothers' gentle hands and his son's wary sideways glances, he starts making plans.

No more sitting around waiting for things to happen. Not this time.

This time, he'll rise to meet whatever is coming.

Come what may.

His brothers come to the conclusion that maybe it's the suddenness of bringing back all those memories that is overwhelming him.

"It's probably too much too fast," Ichiru reasons. "No wonder it's got you thinking up all sorts of… nasty things."

Zero accepts this with a wan smile, but at night he cannot sleep. Even wide awake he can still feel, smell and see the dream. Neither staying awake nor sleeping seem like safe options anymore, but at least awake he can try to distract himself.

Insomnia. He has battled the beast before. It took years for him to feel safe enough to put his head to his pillow the last time, closing his eyes and trusting that he would wake to find no one missing. Years of squashing down the panic that comes whenever the snow starts to fall in earnest. Years of not letting himself fall sleep with a full stomach, or even forgoing dinner completely before bed.

This time it takes weeks, and then months, and then the dream starts to lose some of its hold over him. He fights the urge to stay awake and eventually, sleep takes over.

And nothing happens.

The sky doesn't turn pink. Zero doesn't turn into a fish. The ground doesn't swallow him up. No seagulls come to visit them this far from the coast.

The dream still comes no less than twice a week, but as the shock of it dulls dow Zero makes good on his promise and forces himself to examine every facet of the dream, observing it from various different angles. Hopefully at some point his mind will miraculously extract some meaning. If nothing, the repetition will help strengthen him against becoming overwhelmed again. Often Ryū will drop in when he has sunk too deep in his mind and threaten to block the dream off completely if he finds him again like that, but then he will sit beside Zero and comment on his observations. It has long been their secret — doing this — and whilst Ryū doesn't approve of what he is doing, he knows his mother. There is no stopping Zero when he is like this, so the best he can do is supervise. The thing is, whilst Zero thinks that Ryū's more passive method to handling dreams is well-suited for the everyday, this one is obviously different, and he strongly feels that they need to tackle this thing head-on.

I agree, but your way isn't getting us anywhere either, Ryū points out gently, one time when Zero has spent the whole night surfing the internet, determined to work out what sort of fish swims upstream. His eyes are burning, his mind feels scraped raw, and his jaw aches from how much he keeps clenching it. These dreams are only glimpses into possible futures. Even the ones I have, or ones I choose, aren't a part of reality until they come into being. To be able to work out when and where it will happen, we need to look at the world around us as well.

The world around us… Zero's tired mind churns. His stomach spasms, growling with hunger.

Things that are happening all around us. Things that are happening right now. The present paves the way to the future.

A loud clink startles Zero awake. Ryū is standing at his bedside with a bowl of soup in his hand. He's placed a cup of tea on the table, and his small face is so serious that Zero can't help smiling a little at the sight of it. He shuffles over and untucks the side of his quilt to let Ryū inside, but the movement tumbles his laptop almost off the bed. Luckily Ryū manages to snag it out of the air, and when he pokes the spacebar, a map showing the migration paths of Japan's river fish flickers on. Ryū studies it for a few minutes, but then he turns to Zero with a sigh.

"I'll take over for tonight, so please," he says, nudging the soup over. "Eat. Sleep. Stop punishing yourself. Worrying about the future is stupid." Pointing his glare to the floor, he adds more softly: "Blaming yourself about the past is even more stupid."

Perhaps it is a combination of being too tired to argue and feeling grateful for the food, but Zero eats without protest. Through blood memories and from what his brothers have told him, Ryū knows just about everything now (he stopped breathing? he'd asked in a horrified whisper), so he can't fault him for being fearful of what Zero's obsessiveness can lead to.

"There is no point making yourself sick with worry. If you want to face whatever is coming and be able to do anything you must take care of yourself," Ryū says, pulling the laptop over his knees, and Zero suddenly finds it very hard to swallow the mouthful of soup he's taken. "And, you must pay attention to the now."

Pay attention to me, Zero says him pleading. Even with his eyes and hands trained on laptop research now, the tremor of Ryū's careful watchfulness skirting the edges of his mind betrays his worry. He talks about making himself sick with worry, yet doesn't think about himself. Zero cannot tell, with the blue light from the screen shining on his face, whether Ryū is paler than usual or not. Sickness of the mind is difficult enough to see, but being sick with worry…

That is a different type of sickness. One that Zero suspects even Ryū might be susceptible to.

He drinks all of the soup, shoving aside the voices in his head screaming at him the dangers of doing so. Pay attention, they say. I'm trying to show you something. You aren't paying attention —

He puts the empty bowl on the floor and then curls himself around Ryū, taking hold of the hand that isn't scrolling through the internet and bringing it up to his lips.

"I am," he murmurs, as he rubs warmth into his small fingers. "I'm here, Ryū," he promises, eyes drooping. Ryū's eyes flit over once, and his mouth trembles. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

For years (he doesn't know exactly how many) he pays attention to everything. But part of it is, as they say, a case of looking but not seeing. The other part is that he sees a lot, but standing in the midst of it all it is impossible to see the bigger picture. Time pulls them along but still he has no idea where they are in relation to the dream. Still he thinks about it constantly, and worries that when the time comes it will find them unprepared.

At least from paying attention, Zero gets to enjoy 'the now' to its fullest extent. Mindfulness is what Ichiru called it, reading from one of his many books geared towards healthy living. Zero listens to Ryū's careful meanderings over the small upright piano that came with the house evolve from one-handed pecks into smooth lilting melodies. He teaches his brothers how to cook, and then watches them experiment and bring him an assortment of delights and disasters. Watching, tasting and listening, he plants his feet in the present and the days flow past him.

In the end, the greatest irony is that despite paying such careful attention, the most obvious thing that he should have noticed isn't. It is Time itself that is slipping through his fingers like water. Like smoke. Precious days, months and years that he should have spent counting.

Looking back through it all, it's like he and Ryū are two goldfish swimming in a bowl. The same faces and same scenery in their small corner of the world, with everything else changing around them. They stand apart from it all, unmoved and unchanged.

And therein lies the problem.

"But aren't Vampires meant to age slowly though? Isn't that why Ichijou doesn't look a day over twenty-five, and yet he's the oldest of you lot? Isn't that the reason why girls go all heart-eyed over that Cullen boy too?"

"That's in a book, Kaito," Ichiru sighs, elbowing him sharply in the gut. "And anyway, I thought we agreed to talk about this later. Hm?"

Zero can barely hear them bickering, his mind thrown back to a completely different conversation.

"How many years has it been, mama?"

He plops his chin on his hands. How many years has it been since Ryū asked him that question? Zero studies the lines of Ryū's face — the round swell of his cheek, the small curve of his nose, his plump lips pursed in a thoughtful moue. It was three years after Kaname's death when Zero stopped breathing, then four years after that when they started sharing their memories with Ryū, and since then it's been…

"Sixteen years."

Kaito cuts off halfway through his spiel. Despite the rude interruption, he turns to Zero. "Eh?"

"It's been sixteen years," he says, with only the slightest tremor in his voice. Sixteen years in total, he means. Nearly sixteen years old, and yet, Ryū is no more than four foot eleven, and his sweet face is as round and cherubic as it ever was.

His brothers share a glance.

"Well… yes," Ichiru replies slowly. "The fact that we were discussing his sixteenth birthday before you so kindly interrupted would require him having lived sixteen years since his birth — "

Zero ignores him in favour of looking at Ryū, whose head is hunched studiously over a small stack of homework. The table is scattered with crayons and crepe paper and his schoolbag hangs from the back of a chair, spilling brightly coloured exercise books onto the floor. Besides him is a bigger stack of far thicker books on all types of topics, fiction and non-fiction. They watch in silence for several minutes as Ryū flicks through a book on woodland biomes with one hand and idly colours in his homework with a purple crayon with the other.

He turns back to find his brothers also silently watching him, their previously playful expressions subdued. He gives them a moment to consider the absurdity of what they are seeing.

"Vampires," he says quietly, when it seems like he is the only one willing to speak. "May age slowly, but sixteen years is not nothing."

Again, neither of his brothers know what to say. One by one they turn back to the table, only to find Ryū has already disappeared.

"Well shit," Kaito says to no one.

"I told you. I told you we should talk about this later!" Ichiru hisses, sputtering at the sharp glares this earns him. "Don't look at me like that. You know he's sensitive about this, and you talking about Twilight on top of it is just the perfect recipe for pissing Ryū off. This is both your faults."

"More like Zero's fault," Kaito argues, swiftly shrugging off the blame. "Why did you have to bring it up at all? And in hearing distance of him too?"

"Everywhere is hearing distance of him," Zero replies blandly. He feels oddly faint, the way you would looking down from a great height. "It's not like he's unaware that it's an issue, anyway."

"But he doesn't like us talking about it!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Zero pushes away from the counter. "Ignore it being a problem for the rest of our lives? Sure. Why not?"

"Come on, Zero — "

"No, you're right. What's the point talking about it now whilst we're all still alive and well? Whilst me and Ryū still have you two idiots to listen to, arguing about Twilight of all things," Zero says, smiling bitterly.

Worrying about the future is stupid, Ryū had said, which is all well and good, but this isn't just idle worrying. This is worrying about a very specific problem. A problem that will only continue to grow the longer they pretend it doesn't exist. There is no denying it any longer, and as Zero watches them fidget under his icy glare for a while, he hopes that this means they agree.

"Ignoring the problem isn't an acceptable long-term solution," he states simply. "And while it was perhaps understandable up to this point, any longer and we reach the point of no return. At the moment there is still time to try and fix this, but we need to start doing something now, before it is too late. Talking about it is the bare minimum. It's all I'm asking of you."

To his relief he seems to be reaching Kaito, going by how his eyebrows are scrunching up tighter by the second. Ichiru is a different story, and so Zero tries a different tack.

"What do you have against talking about it?" he asks him gently, but then Ichiru only flushes in answer and glances elsewhere, and Zero realises that the reason for his hesitance is the simplest of all. He gentles his voice even further, unable to be angry with his brother for having a soft heart. "He isn't a child anymore, Ichiru. He knows that this needs to be dealt with, and just because we don't want to doesn't mean we can keep avoiding it forever. If we keep wrapping him up in cottonwool he will come to resent us for it."

"I just want to keep him safe," Ichiru whispers. Kaito grabs his hand and holds it for comfort. "Even from feeling… sad."

"I appreciate that, and you know he does too, but for how long do you think we can keep doing so?" Zero asks, smiling kindly. "Just because something comfortable and easy doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. He can handle it," he insists, holding Ichiru's gaze until he drops his.

"And what if we aren't?"

Kaito's heated voice has Zero flinching. He'd been so focused on Ichiru that he almost forgot about him, and sometime between then and now Kaito has gone from looking somewhat pensive to gritting his teeth in anger. For a moment Zero cannot understand his change of heart, but soon enough he does.

"What is the point," Kaito says, "Of talking about something we cannot fix?"

Perhaps a good part of the reason why they have waited this long to confront this issue is because of the very nature of it. It's obvious that there must be some sort of magic involved that is causing it, far beyond what any of them can contend with. The likelihood of it being something they can battle and win is so incredibly poor that all Zero can hope for is getting the chance to at least understand what it is that they're facing. Eternal youth? Probably. Tied to a curse, or just a side-effect of unexpected immortality? There's simply no way of knowing.

There's no one they can ask. No possible suspects.

A strange, cold draught floats down from the stairs, coaxing goosebumps out of everyone's exposed skin.

Without stopping to think Zero bolts towards the stairs, but on the landing Kaito grabs him.

"Not you," he blurts, coming to join Zero on the same step. "He won't want to see you right now," he explains, and before Zero can open his mouth to protest, he quickly adds: "Look, he might not be a child anymore, but sixteen is hardly an adult either. I agree that we can't mollycoddle him anymore, but think about what you just said. Think about what you're probably thinking without meaning to right now. Do you really think he will want to talk to you, when he's hearing all that in the background?"

Sixteen years is not nothing, he'd said aloud, and in his mind he'd seen years and years of himself and Ryū perfectly preserved against the flow of time, because it isn't just Ryū who isn't ageing as he should. Though it is easier to notice a child remaining a child than a fully grown adult not changing, it's impossible to live day-to-day and not notice it. When Zero looks in the mirror these days he sees someone from decades, maybe even millennia ago. Someone who should have all the signs of the years he's lived etched on his face, but that face is yet unwrinkled. That body is still slender and strong, and as far as he can tell, it will remain so indefinitely.

These days Zero finds himself unable to look at either of his brothers too closely, afraid perhaps to notice in them all the signs of ageing he should, but cannot, find in himself. There are some moments though when there is no way to ignore it. When Ichiru peers at him through silver-framed reading glasses. When his brothers' limbs creak as they putter around. When they drop things and groan at the distance to the floor. When each cold season bringing along illness and aching limbs for them whilst he and Ryū remain healthy and pain-free.

Sometimes Zero is thrown by how slowly they move compared to how they used to. Just now he let Kaito catch up with him. It wouldn't feel fair to outrun him when simply walking requires more effort for Kaito now than it did before. It would be too easy to shake him off if he wanted to, it would require no effort at all. There is fire blazing in Kaito's eyes though, despite everything. He stands straight-backed and tall, and ever unmoving against Zero's own stubbornness.

After a moment, he steps aside. Kaito hurries upstairs, though not so fast as to agitate his bad knee.

The twins settle in an uneasy silence together. Now that he's thinking about it and now that they're talking about it, it becomes impossible for Zero not to dwell on all the things he tries not to see. It is always hardest to ignore when he compares himself with his own born-mirror-image. His twin. His other self. He looks at Ichiru and sees the person he should be, and he aches for it.

Once Zero showed Ryū the few pictures they had of himself and Ichiru in their childhood, and Ryū was astonished to learn that they actually were twins. You're the same age? he'd asked, eyes darting between his uncle and mother again and again. He's younger, in fact, Zero had said, smiling slightly at the roundness of Ryū's eyes. At Ichiru's nudging, he digressed: by a two and a half minutes, more or less.

Is he, though? Do those minutes count anymore, or is age not the accumulation of years spent living, but the effect of those years on a person? If so, does that not mean that Ichiru is a good decade older than him now? Ten or so years. That's over five million minutes between them.

Mortality is something every Hunter is taught to accept from a young age. It is part of their warrior culture, part of the job description, the family way, and the lifespan of one of their own. No Hunter lives with the expectation that they will live a long time. Those like Kaien and Toga are almost anomalous, and those like Kaito and Ichiru who are now (and had been for some time) out of service are also exceptions to the rule. With the calm, sheltered, domestic lives they were not living, his brothers can expect to live decades more in relative peace and comfort.

But they will still be moving forwards in time, towards an end. Towards a finishing line. As far as Zero can see, he and Ryū aren't. They're even lagging behind Yuuki, whose Pure blood is slowing her ageing the most out of everyone, but is still towing her along.

The thought of outliving his brothers is beyond horrifying. His brothers — his twin.

What's the point talking about it now whilst we're all still alive and well?

It could be decades until then, it could be days. It could be a hundred years and Zero would still consider Ichiru his younger brother. He would have to look for another house for himself and Ryū, or maybe just an apartment. Something small for just the two of them.

They wouldn't be able to continue living in this house, not with all the memories crammed into every tiny corner of the place. Already it's difficult to live with Kaname in their hearts, his voice in their ears and shadow lurking at the corner of their eyes. They found space for him despite the difficulty, and on good days Zero is glad that they have, but if Ichiru and Kaito were to pass away as well —

Three ghosts in one house. No, it would be unbearable.

Just one sweep of his gaze around the room and he can see a hundred little pieces of his brothers: engrained in the teakwood of the floors, woven into the dark blue of the curtains, the tacky knick-knacks scattered all over the bookshelf, the ringed white heat marks smudged into the coffee table. It will be difficult enough for him, but how will Ryū cope with losing two of the most important people in his life? If there was a way to save them, or to free himself and Zero from whatever this thing is, Zero knows Ryū would have done it. With his powers, surely it should be nothing.

But apparently it's not, otherwise they would not currently be facing this problem.

This suggests that the problem is caused by an outside component, and something either more powerful than Ryū or at the very least, powerful enough to evade him. Another curse? Another spell? Or is this simply the byproduct of Ryū's powers or the spell Kaname cast on him, after having been warped into something else entirely? He cannot help thinking about that conversation he had with Ryū ages ago. Wait another ten thousand years, he'd thought bitterly, and then you can tell me.

Was that what did it? Is it even possible to cast a curse out of spite? Can such a thing be made without any real intention… oh, of course. Of course it can. Kaname told him himself that the very curse he'd laid upon the world was made simply out of a desire for vengeance. In that case, is it possible that Zero's ill-timed, careless thought became a curse of his own making —

"He wants to stop school."

They both jump, then spin around to face Kaito on the stairs. What he said doesn't sink in for a moment. It bears no relation to the reason why Kaito went up in the first place. Then Ichiru asks.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Kaito stuffs his hands in his pockets. "He says he doesn't want to go to school anymore."

Zero's eyes drift to the table again with all those crayons and books all over it. Ryū loves learning. He talks a lot about the kindness of his teachers at school, but less about his friends. They haven't had a schoolmate come over for… oh, years now. The thought comes to him: does he even have any friends anymore? Is it possible to make friends when you know you'll be leaving them in only a few years?

What a depressing thought. The identical grimace on Ichiru's face tells him he must be thinking the same.

"I asked if it was because of the weather," Kaito laughs humourlessly, glancing at the snow falling thickly outside the window. "But no. He says he doesn't want to go ever again."

"Well that's…" Ichiru pauses. That's what? Reasonable? Unreasonable? Hardly. Six schools in ten years. It's a lot. He frowns, turning to Zero for an answer.

"It's fine," he says, crossing his arms. "Homeschooling isn't a problem. He's already way ahead of his peers."

"Because his classmates are six year olds," Kaito says flatly.

"Kaito," Ichiru says sharply.

"I don't suppose I really need to say why he doesn't want to go to school. You can imagine," he says, glancing between his brothers, "That he feels like he's losing touch with his classmates. Being Zero's child, his tolerance for cartoons and toys is sadly rather poor. Makes it pretty difficult to find common ground with his peers when the range of topics they are interested in are so limited.

"And then there's all this stuff about Kaname too." Kaito's drops eye-contact then. "Aside from toys, kids are always nosy about each other's families. Not only does he have a hard enough time trying remember to refer to you as dad, not mom," Kaito says to Zero, "But then they ask where's your mom then? Is she dead?"

"They ask that?" Ichiru gasps, aghast.

"O' course they do. The little twerps have no concept of boundaries. It doesn't help that he gets asked the same from his teachers too, as part of the homework, no less."

Describe your father in two thousand words. Kaito is right. Zero has seen those words reconfigured in multiple ways, all asking the same thing: who was he? Ryū's grades have are always poorest on these papers. For an honour student like him, those results are rather telling.

"The funny thing is that for six year olds, those kids take those assignments surprisingly seriously, and because it's schoolwork the teachers encourage group discussion." This is when Zero sees where this is going. "Can't imagine what it's like having a bunch of brats interrogating you about stuff you know you shouldn't talk about."

None of them ever told Ryū he can't talk about Kaname with others, but the thing is he's not stupid. Zero doesn't have to ask to know he wouldn't, and from that point it dawns on him that there are so many other things Ryū must realise he cannot talk about. His freaky powers, that his dad is his mom, that his actual dad is dead, that his family is a crazy mix of all three bloods.

That he is a fifteen year old boy trapped in a six year old's body.

"The little he has been forced to tell those kids about Kaname hasn't been well-received either. The ungrateful louts think he's lucky to have lost his dad so young because then it means here's nothing for him to remember, and therefore less to miss."

"That's bullshit," Ichiru growls.

"Yeah, well how can he explain that to them? They're children. Insensitive, nosy little brats, but still too young to know better. He has to suck it up and be the bigger person. Yeah, I suppose I am lucky, he says." Kaito drums his nails on the granite. "Yeah," he sneers, "I suppose it's better I didn't know him."

"But he did. He knows that," Zero points out.

"It doesn't matter what he knows. It matters what they think. It always does. His skin may be thick, Zero, but his heart is soft like yours, and kids are ruthless. My point is he's done with school, and he agrees that this problem needs to be fixed."

Zero's mind is flies back to that image from years ago. That little bear is now free from its cage, but rescued animals are never the same as others. Even with rehabilitation, kindness and love, they always stand apart. For Ryū, the stunting of his growth is the same. They've been fools to think it was all over.

"Has he talked to Kasumi about this, do you think? Or Takuma, or Peppe?" Zero asks quietly, throwing Kaito for a second. Those three are the ones Ryū is closest to, excluding themselves.

Kaito frowns. "I don't know. Why?"

"Kasumi is younger than Ryū by a year. I can only imagine that there is a growing tension there because of that," Zero says carefully. "Do you think they talk about it?"

From Kaito's expression it's clear he has. He used to whine to them about his baby girl growing up too fast until it caught Ryū's attention, and then he kept his complaints to himself. Only now does Zero look back and see that in the past five or so years, Kasumi has made less visits to them than before. Instead it is Kaito who goes to see her at Takuma's, or goes flying around the world to meet her if she's tagging along with Seiren on her global travels. Ever since Kasumi overtook Ryū in height, Zero realises. Girls develop faster, and fourteen-year-old Kasumi already looks like a young woman, much to Kaito's despair.

"I have no idea," Kaito finally replies honestly, looking a little peeved.

Zero nods, tracing the veins of black in the granite with a finger.

"He also said that he doesn't want to go to his birthday party," Kaito adds, when it becomes apparent that Zero has nothing more to say on this. "The New Years party too. He doesn't want to go to either party."

Ichiru gawks. "But it's his birthday. How can he not go to his own birthday party?"

"It's his choice," Zero says sternly.

"But Zero — "

"If you want to force him, then be my guest."

That shuts him up fast.

"Do you think it's because Kasumi will be there?" Kaito asks faintly, gazing into the countertop just like Zero had, as if it held all his answers. "Does he not want to see her?"

"I get the feeling he doesn't want to see much of anyone," Zero says, his words clipped and tight.

Just saying this aloud — admitting it feels like he is slamming another door shut between them and Ryū. It stings to consider the possibility of another rift growing between them once again. He won't want to see you right now, Kaito had said. An ominous assumption, and to Zero, a terrible possibility.

What Ryū wants is always so little compared to his peers, or to anyone Zero has ever known. He wants to grow up alongside his cousins. Is that so much to ask? If this is no curse, but a byproduct of the years Ryū has spent suppressing his powers — if it is from doing so that his growth is now stunted… then what would be the reason for it affecting Zero too? If it's neither of these reasons, then the only explanation, the only thing connecting Ryū to Zero and the only thing powerful enough to cause this is Kaname.

"So," Kaito says, slicing through Zero's swirling thoughts. "About the ageing thing, how are we going to go about this? Oh, but firstly," he adds, pursing his lips, "About the party, or parties."

"I'll go," Zero says. He avoids glancing at Ichiru tries his best not to wince at Kaito's deep scowl. "It'll be easier for… for all of us if I go alone. They're less likely to keep me for very long if it's just me. I'll go tell both of them them what happened, and then I can be back quick in time to celebrate with Ryū and you as well. Then we can resolve the problem together once and for all."

"That's a lot of travelling," Kaito points out.

"Exactly." Zero's smile is more of a grimace. He hates, hates, hates the look on Kaito's face now — from a frown to something flickering between offended and thankful. Zero is very careful not to think about Kaito's knee, or the fact that Ichiru has yet to fully recover from the season's flu. Even so, he hears Ryū promise in his head to look after them whilst he is gone, and something inside him relaxes at this reassurance. Zero's smile settles a little more convincingly. "I'm already packed, so I can set off tomorrow. The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back."

"I'll text them to let them know you'll be early then," Kaito agrees, already pulling out his phone. He glances up. "But I'll be coming to see Kasumi, so I might catch up with you later."

"I suppose that leaves me with Ryū, then," Ichiru says, his voice and expression totally unreadable.

Zero slips off his stool, and as he does so he cannot avoid catching a glance of the thickening snow outside. Already two inches are stacked atop the windowsill. Just looking at it makes Zero want to retract his offer, but then he thinks of Ryū caught in the snow, or either of his brothers having to hobble and slide through the cold, and goes to pack his bags.

Coming without the birthday boy should have been awkward, but apparently news of this preceded his arrival (as Kaito had promised him), so no one is too surprised. They alternate each year between Yuuki's crowded house and Takuma's sprawling manor, the venues for the birthday and New Year's celebration. This year he goes to Yuuki's first, and though one would assume the lack of usual guest numbers would allow more breathing space, that is not the case.

Where Kaito would be all abuzz at seeing his daughter again, nagging her for gossip and fawning over her achievements, there is just Kasumi sat with Peppe on the couch, both of them fiddling with their phones. Where Ichiru would be fussing over this or that, flitting between the kitchen and the living room like a man possessed, there is instead Yuuki gone stir-crazy over dinner preparations and the like. Ryū's absence is the only one Zero feels even remotely comfortable with. He is glad his son got what he wanted, even if it means him not being here.

It is suffocating, being the messenger of bad news, when everyone is being so nice and understanding about it.

"It's fine, really," Kasumi says out of the blue, startling Zero out of his brooding. "We already knew he wasn't coming."

"Pardon?"

She waves around the phone that seems to be surgically attached to her palm. "We text and shit. I knew weeks ago."

"Ah."

Drumming her fingers on her ribs, Kasumi lets out a hissing breath. "I'm still glad Dad told me though. The little bugger has been giving me the silent-treatment recently. Thought I'd put my foot in my mouth and it was my fault or something." She glances at him sideways. "Got me worried for no damn reason."

Zero dips his head, smiling a little at her obvious concern. She's so like Kaito sometimes that he can't help being amused by it. "He's a little quieter than usual, but I suppose that's to be expected."

"Yeah. I didn't expect him to clam up completely though. He usually deals with it better than this."

It, she says, opening Zero's eyes to the realisation that yes, Ryū must talk to his cousins about this. Both of them, because you cannot tell something to one without the other knowing. He can't help but stare at her, both taken aback and relieved.

"I guess," she sighs explosively. "It's all coming to a head now, isn't it? Sixteen years isn't far from eighteen. This guy," she tips her head towards Peppe, "Keeps going on and on about college this, and application that. You should be grateful to even have the chance to study, Peppe!" she insists, grinning at his affronted expression. "Ryū would kill for the opportunity, you know. We're lucky to be able to do these things, and yet you whine about it like it's nothing! Shame on you!"

Peppe spares her a brief, dry look, but turns back to whatever game he's playing. Kasumi fumbles with her phone. She's always fidgeting, never still. Even now with everything else that's changed about her, from her makeup to her dyed hair, she is still Takamiya Kasumi — the girl who loves to move.

"He thinks it's his fault, you know," she says offhandedly, drawing Zero's eyes away from the deep shade of red her hair is dyed with. She meets his gaze boldly. As much as she is Kaito's child, she's also just like her mother with her tendency to go straight for the throat. "He blames himself," she continues, slipping a jagged nail in between her lips. "Thinks he did something. Thinks you blame him for it too."

"He thinks what?"

The shock destroys any of the reservations he had for bringing this topic up in conversation. He'd come to fulfil the requirements of 'making nice' on behalf of his son before leaving, but this changed things. Of course it would be Kasumi who'd be the one to drop the bomb.

"D'you wanna talk about it?" The way she asks is deliberately casual, but Zero can hear her interest. It's obvious that Peppe is listening too — he wouldn't be sat here otherwise. Zero can only assume that their curiosity has been prompted by Ryū's absence.

Zero tries his best to sound equally as indifferent. "What is there to talk about?"

"Anything. Everything. Go on — talk to me. I'm a teenage girl. This is what I live for."

His face splits into a wry smile. "You're just like your mother, you know?" He chuckles then. "And your father, come to think of it. Don't make that face. He's not that bad. Both of them like to back me into corners before trying to pry answers out of me, just like this. You're the terrifying and unholy legacy of two gossiping nags."

"You make this sound like an interrogation." Kasumi tuts, picking at her thumbnail. "I'm just being nice."

"I'm not so sure," he replies with laughter in his voice. "Nevertheless — "

"He says you've been telling him about his dad."

The words turn to dust in his mouth. Peppe isn't even trying to pretend he's not listening anymore. Both of them are watching Zero avidly, their eyes sparkling with interest. Neither of them know much about Kaname either. The habit of not talking about him was unintentionally spread throughout the family, becoming something of an unwritten rule.

"Yes," he forces himself to say. "Yes, we have."

"That's good," Kasumi says, smiling encouragingly. "So Dad and Uncle Ichiru… ?"

"Yes."

"Great. Does that mean Mom can — "

"Yes."

"Hah," she grins, radiating approval. "That's great! It must be a relief to finally talk about him. I gotta ask though, why now? What made you change your mind?"

Zero doesn't want to frighten her. He doesn't know whether she's aware how close Ryū was to…how close they came to losing him. Just thinking about it makes something turn in Zero's stomach. Zero covers his mouth. Thinking.

"I don't know," he finally says. "It was just time for it, I suppose."

Kasumi hums, sounding pleased nevertheless. "Well it might be good for you too, you know. Mom told me once," she says, "That the worst part of holding onto memories isn't the pain of remembering them, but having to remember them alone. Memories need to be shared with others or else the die."

Zero exhales shakily. Out of the mouth of babes.

"It's funny how all this stuff is coming up at the same time though," she continues. "Strange, but good."

"Stuff?" Zero asks, interest piqued. "What stuff?"

"Uncle," Peppe says instead, dragging Zero's attention away from Kasumi's smile and to his thoughtful frown instead. "Speaking of strange things, I wanted to tell you something I noticed. Something that — that happened maybe a few months ago."

Zero cocks his head.

"It's nothing," Peppe begins by saying, his shy smile taking the edge off Zero's anxiety. "But it was night time and I heard a tap at my window." The smile disappears. "And I don't even know why I keep thinking about it, but it was just so weird. When I went to check there was nothing there, but then I glanced up at the moon and I swear… I saw something flying. Something like, I don't know… a bird? It had enormous wings."

Kasumi bursts out laughing but Zero goes utterly still.

"What's so strange about a bird?" Kasumi giggles, totally unaware. Zero keeps his eyes locked with Peppe's, the tension between them almost palpable.

"An owl?" Zero asks, heart pounding in anticipation.

Peppe hesitates before shrugging. "I think so. Maybe. I'm not sure. It was very late, but…" he laughs uneasily. "I don't know. Kasumi's right. Maybe I'm just being silly."

"What's so strange about an owl?" Kasumi asks, her eyes darting between the two of them.

"It's not that," Peppe sighs, batting her away irritably. "It's just… never mind." It takes quite a lot these days to piss Peppe off. His expression smooths into bland bemusement. "Anyway, Mama also told me to tell you that she can't find those diamonds you gave her anywhere."

"Huh," is all Zero can come up with, his blood still roaring loudly in his ears. Why would a bird come to Peppe's window? He can taste the answer, can see the flutter of black wings at the edges of his vision.

"What diamonds?" Kasumi asks, finally losing patience with the both of them.

They're referring to that small bag of crushed diamonds he gave to Yuuki sixteen years ago, mixed with gravel and coated in blood. Part of Zero still cannot believe she decided to make them into a necklace, the thought of wearing such a thing too gruesome for him to fathom. She had them inlaid in a dark blue resin pendant, the design made to resemble tiny stars speckled in the night's sky. The effect is actually rather beautiful, but Zero to this day cannot bring himself to look at it properly.

"Did she lose them?" Kasumi asks, making as if to stand. "We can help her look — "

"No, no," Peppe says, leaping to his feet. "They're just gone. It's hard to explain. Let me show you — wait here. I'll go get it," he says, already hurrying to the stairs.

"Aunt Yuuki!" Kasumi hollers, twisting around. "Did you lose your diamonds?"

She appears the kitchen door, frowning at them in confusion. "What? No, I — "

"Ignore her, Mama," Peppe says, breezing past her to hand Zero the necklace.

The moment he sees it, the first thing that he thinks is: how? The places where the diamonds used to be embedded are empty, leaving tiny pockmarks in the resin. It's as if they've all been plucked out, but that's impossible. They would have had to smash the resin apart to remove the diamonds. It is as if they were vanished into thin air, or somehow dissolved into the resin. Vaguely, he registers Yuuki coming to sit by his side.

"Oh," she says, reaching down to pluck it out of his hand. "Right. I was meaning to tell you… "

"How… when… " Zero cannot comprehend what he's seeing. Cannot understand why pay attention, pay attention is blaring like a siren in his head.

"I was going to get it cleaned," Yuuki explains, turning the pendant side to side. It is dull and pitted like pumice. "But then I found it like this, so I… yeah."

"Strange?" Kasumi murmurs, but Zero shakes his head.

"Not strange." He grabs Yuuki's wrist, forcing her to look at him. "Magic?" he mouths.

Yuuki hesitates.

The children are muttering to each other, but Zero cannot hear them. All his attention is on Yuuki, his hopes resting on something he cannot even name. This is too strange to be a coincidence, and this — isn't this what Ryū meant when he said to look at the world around you? To pay attention to more than his dreams. The bird Peppe saw. Now this. Only magic could do this. She must sense it too.

It feels like they are reaching the end of something. Like something is starting to come together to form something. He cannot see what it is yet, and whilst Yuuki is no better at deducing meanings from seemingly unrelated facts, she can sense Vampire magic even better than he can. She considers his suggestion with a small frown and then nods.

"That's what I was thinking too," is all she says softly, and Zero's heart flutters.

"And this?" he asks, pointing at the empty pendant. "When did this happen?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know, Zero. I only ever wear it around Christmas. It could have happened any time between last year and um… a few months ago? No. Earlier in the year, um… August, maybe? That's when I was going to take it to the jewellers."

Even though this is less detail than what he was hoping for, it is enough to know it happened in the past year — in the same year in which everything has been changing. Telling Ryū about Kaname, the recurring dream, Ryū not wanting to come, Peppe's bird, confronting the non-ageing-thing… It's all coming to a head now, isn't it? Like a storm on the horizon, Zero can sense something stirring.

Somehow he finds himself at the door with his coat buttoned up and his hosts fluttering around him like startled pigeons as he shoves on his shoes. Yuuki grabs him, the pendant chain dangling from her fist. "You're leaving? Already?"

"I… I need to check on something. I need to go to Takuma's, and… and Ryū's waiting for me," he babbles, ducking his head so as to not get lured in by her beseeching stare. The kids are there too, and he cannot bring himself to look at them either. "Sorry."

"Check on something?" Yuuki asks. She tenses for a split second. "Is this about the — "

"Yes." Of course it is. Yuuki bites her lip. "Yes and no. There's more to this than any of us know. I can feel it. Something's — "

"Something's happening." Yuuki clutches his arm. "Yes, I feel it too." She drags him down into a brief hug. "Go," she whispers in his ear. "Go find out for all of us what it is."

Zero nods, reaching around her for the doorknob. "I'll let you know as soon as I can."

"Uncle," Peppe calls, halting him in his tracks. He turns around, and Kasumi thrusts something into his chest. Zero frowns, but Kasumi smiles sunnily at him.

"It's Ryu's gift from both of us," she explains. "The pipsqueak only wanted this book, for whatever reason. He's such a nerd," she laughs, and Zero has to agree. Japan: A Collection Of Forest Flora doesn't exactly sound like a page-turner, but who is he to judge. "Maybe you should add that to whatever it is you're doing. This hunt for strange things."

"Thanks. I'm sure he'll love it," Zero says, wondering whether this is indeed another strange thing to add to the list or just one of Ryū's quirks.

"Uncle," Peppe says again, nudging Kasumi aside. "Remember, the bird."

Zero nods again, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry Pep, I'll take care of it."

Yuuki sighs, folding her arms around herself as Zero opens the door. Ludo wraps an arm around her, looking very confused and mildly concerned by Zero's early departure.

"Send the others our love, Zero," Yuuki reminds him as he steps into the snow. "And be careful!"

His answer is whipped away by the wind, and it's only when he's walking through the next town that he shoves his numbed hands in his pockets and pulls out the pendant.

When he arrives at the Manor he cannot help but notice that despite the six people living there it feels uncomfortably empty. Five years ago when Aidou and Kain finalised the adoption of their children, they were eagerly invited to move in by Takuma. Three girls would need far more space than even their luxurious apartment could provide, and with the promise of free childcare they couldn't say yes fast enough. Whilst the girls have managed to fill rooms with all their clothes and toys and their laughter and silliness definitely brights a lightness to the place, there is still something missing.

Something that Zero can't help noticing when he enters the hallway is how clean the carpets are — a true miracle, given what the girls are like — and he pauses for a moment to register how thick and soft it feels underfoot. Then as he steps into the foyer he comes to an abrupt stop, unsettled by all the toys cluttering the floor.

Before Takuma can say anything he hurries to pick them all up and stack them neatly to the side. Whilst doing so the weight of Takuma's eyes follow him all around the room, and when Zero rises, it is to find the man's expression turned oddly intense and sad.

So much has happened in those five years, Zero can't help but think, as he follows Takuma further into the Manor. In that time the girls have grown up, the adults have struggled through raising them, and the floors have changed from carpet to wood to carpet again. In those five years, the family has gained and lost, and even now Kain's deep laughter seems to echo in the halls and Takuma's smile doesn't quite meet his eyes.

He trails Takuma through to the living room and stands behind him, his morose thoughts blown away when the man slams through the doors in an unexpected display of impatience.

"Kain! Girls!" he calls, rapping sharply on the door. Two girls sit either side of the large man: one on his knee, the other on his arm. The latter kicks him in the gut to alert him to Takuma's presence. Once he sees him, Kain scoops up both girls excitedly. "Yes," Takuma says in answer to this, clapping his hands. "Our guest is here, so go drag your silly excuse for a husband away from his blasted experiments and get him presentable for company! For goodness sake!" Takuma snaps, rising to a drill-sergeant's shrill tone. "I told him that plans have changed — "

"Sorry about that," Zero mutters.

"And that we were — oh you don't need to apologise, Zero, we're always glad to see you — expecting Zero early. Tell him to get his butt moving or I'll lock the labs up for the next two weeks!"

Kain waits for him to finish and then laughs, wandering off to retrieve Aidou from whatever mischief he's got himself up to. Zero can't hold back a chuckle when he sees the girls, now eight and ten, scurrying after their father like little ducklings.

"Now then," Takuma sighs, turning to Zero with a huge smile plastered across his face. "Why don't we get you warmed up with a nice drink — " The phone rings. They wait a beat, but when it's clear that Kain is too far away to notice it Takuma's smile turns apologetic. "Blast it. I'm so sorry, Zero. It's been a busy year. Just make yourself at home. I won't be a minute…"

Zero waves him off, heading over to the fireplace to check out any new photos that have been added to it. Between Takuma and Aidou practically every second of the girls' lives has been carefully documented, and the best of the best get the honour of being displayed on the mantlepiece. He has yet to put down his bag, since despite Takuma's warm welcome he can't help but feel like he's come at a bad time. He's no doubt given Takuma a headache what with his arrival being even earlier than they'd warned him. Takuma is always busiest at this time of year. His involvement in politics is now a major part of his day-to-day job, and with it comes having to manage all sorts of business with important officials and the such. This added to Takuma's million other personal projects and family commitments… sometimes Zero wonders how he does it.

But other times he just worries that Takuma is going to make himself sick. The stress of it is surely too much for one man, especially with his workload having increased in recent years, but knowing the reason for it, Zero can't find it in himself to criticise him. Doing so would shine a light upon something Takuma would prefer to stay hidden.

That gaping, sucking void. That endless stretch of innumerable days.

Zero's eyes keep falling to the sofa seat closest to the fireplace. There are new cushions there, a slightly different shade of blue to the ones before. His eyes flick around, noticing all the little things. The lack of blankets folded atop armchairs and footrests, the coffee table free from multiple used mugs, the DVDs in the bookshelf coated with a thin layer of dust.

And all the things cluttering the floorspace. The rugs, trailing cables from game consoles, and again, toys, are his biggest concern.

"God," Takuma huffs, stomping into the room again. "I told them I was cutting down to eight-to-three o' clock this week, Zero. How hard is that to understand? It's not like I'm not available every other time of year."

"Who?"

"The freaking Council."

Zero wrinkles his nose. "Ugh."

"I know, and then — " The doorbell rings. Takuma throws his hands up. "Oh, come on!"

Zero smiles at him. "Just go answer it, Takuma. I really don't mind — "

"They know not to bother me at home!" Takuma growls, reaching up to pinch the skin between his eyes. "Whoever it is, I'm gonna tell them to fuck off. I'm serious Zero. They're like dogs, always hounding me for this that or the other. I'm on break, damn it. I was going to have the tree set up by the time you arrived, but noooo. It's like things keep cropping up out of the damn floorboards. I haven't even had time to get the decorations out of storage yet, let alone find us a decent tree — "

"Oh my god Takuma relax," Zero pleads, taking his hands and carefully extracting them from his hair. "I came to see you, not some damn tree and lights."

Takuma flinches, but slaps on a bright smile before Zero can question it.

"Right," he says, squeezing Zero's hands back. "You're right. Hooo…" he exhales and inhales deeply, and then nods his head. "Right then. I'll go get that — "

"No need."

They both turn around, and Zero almost laughs at the noise Takuma makes.

To be fair, he wasn't really expecting them either.

"Don't look so shocked. You gave us a key," Kaito drawls, waggling said key which is hanging off his Rilakkuma keychain. "It's hardly breaking and entering if you've got the key. Is Kasumi here yet?" he adds, looking around eagerly, as if she was hiding somewhere in the room.

"Uh… no," Takuma manages, bouncing on his toes to look above and around Kaito's shoulders. Kaito's expression crumples. "Did you say 'us'?"

"Ryū has already dragged 'chiru to the library for some reason. Don't ask me. I was hoping I for something hot to drink — "

"The library?" Takuma squawks, already rushing out of the door. "My library? Oh no no no no no, it's a mess in there — " Zero snags Kaito by the elbow as he marches after Takuma, much to the man's loud protests. "Ryū? Ryū please, my love, don't go in there — aah!"

They stumble in behind Takuma, and find themselves almost crashing into him as Ryū launches himself at the man. The boy beams up at Takuma, arms wound tightly around his hips, and after the poor man has stopped screaming, he returns the hug gladly.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Takuma wheezes, but presses a smacking kiss to Ryū's forehead.

"Takuma, I'm so sorry — " Zero starts, but Takuma waves him off.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. The more the merrier, I always say. That being said," he quickly hauls Ryū out of the room and beckons to Ichiru with a jerk of his head. Once the door is shut, he wags a finger at Ryū. "You are not allowed in there, young man. Not until I've cleaned up a little, at least!"

"If it weren't for the fact that he's Takuma, I'd be wondering what he's got to hide in his library," Kaito mutters into Zero's ear, startling a laugh out of him.

"It's not that bad," Ichiru argues as he balances a stack of books on his hip. He ungraciously unloads half the stack into Kaito's arms. "Ooh, my back," he groans pitifully.

"What were you looking for anyway — oh, trees? Again?" Takuma asks, dropping to his knees smoothly, much to Kaito's annoyance. "What's the deal with you and trees, I wonder."

Ryū shrugs.

"Well, even with all the books I have, I bet you can't wait to pick Aidou's brain for more info, huh? Might as well, since he's all about educating the young these days. He's been dying to show you the lab you know, but maybe you'll be able to coax him away from it instead. What do you say?" Takuma grins. "You up for dragging the resident mad scientist out for some fresh air?"

Ryū smiles at this and nods vigorously. "I wanna go see the garden, Uncle Taku."

"I bet you do my lad, but unfortunately you'll have to wait till spring. It's very icy out there, and mossy and muddy too. Oof!" Takuma grabs Ryū by the shoulders and uses him to boost himself up, causing his fellow uncles to let out satisfied mutters under their breaths. He turns to Zero. "I was actually hoping to show you something I've been working on this year."

Zero raises a brow. "Looking forward to it."

"Hm." Ryū eyes his mother, and for a second Zero half expects the sun to come bursting through the curtains, even though it's late evening and has been snowing heavily all day.

Takuma chuckles. "Patience, love," he says kindly. "Give it a couple weeks and you can explore the grounds to your heart's content."

"Okay," Ryū agrees, though he flicks a glance at the window, and the volume of the howling wind immediately drops by half. Looking somewhat pleased by this, he scurries over to grab Kaito by the arm and shake him out of his half-standing doze. When he groans in answer, Ryū clicks his tongue and pulls at him till he is being forcefully dragged up and out of the room.

Ichiru watches this happen with obvious relief, and throws an arm over his eyes. "Thank god I'm not his favourite."

"Amen to that," Takuma laughs again.

"Why are you here so early though?" Zero can't help asking as they move back into the living room. He frowns at Ichiru, flicking his eyes to the door and raising his eyebrow. Ichiru barely nods, his expression calm though — nothing to worry about, but yes, it was Ryū who brought them.

"He said if we didn't come now we wouldn't be able to make it for New Years," Ichiru explains quietly with his eyes closed. He tosses his phone at Zero. "He was right. Most domestic flights have been cancelled for the next week. Looks like your garden tour is going to have to wait a while, what with all the snow they're predicting."

The door swings open then, and Ryū comes skidding in with Kaito in tow. The boy throws himself belly-first onto Takuma's lap and scrambles up, knees and elbows flying everywhere and his bottom wriggling in Zero's face.

"Why does Uncle Takuma get hugs and kisses and I get all the rough-housing, eh?" Kaito demands, dropping to the floor like a rock. He flips over to glare at Takuma. "Why don't you bully him, huh? He's a Vampire. He's built for that. My old bones can't take this kind of abuse much longer."

Ryū snorts and curls up closer to Takuma with a smug smile, stretching out with one leg to pat Kaito on the head with his toes. Before Kaito can retaliate, the door slams open yet again and the younger girls come bouncing in like two tiny puppies yanking at their leashes, with their parents lagging behind. Aidou shuffles in a few steps behind Kain, his nose stuck in a sheaf of crumpled papers, as Yahwen (their eldest child) dutifully nudges and steers him in the right direction. Takuma immediately makes room for the girls as they race over to greet Ryū, and with him commanding the most attention in the room, Zero takes this opportunity to slip away.

After all, part of the reason for him coming in such haste was to continue his investigation, or his 'hunt for strange things', as Kasumi called it. And who better to help him work out what it all means than their very own genius? Whilst Takuma would be the best bet for helping him sense magical traces, what with him being the Purest out of the Nobles, Aidou's genius mind is what Zero is after. He skirts the edge of the room, heading straight for his target.

Aidou must have noticed him approaching, because he stuffs the wad of notes into his lab coat pocket and turns around to greet him. When he does, Zero sees that Aidou looks oddly flustered. There is a skittishness about him that sets Zero's senses tingling. The moment their eyes lock together, he sees why.

Aidou knows.

He cannot say how or why, but there is this understanding between them in that instant that prompts Zero to reach for him. Aidou clasps Zero's hand and tugs him in close enough to whisper in his ear. He doesn't beat around the bush. "Kasumi told me what you've been talking to Ryū about."

Zero meets Aidou's anxious stare and nods solemnly. Aidou lets out a tremulous sigh, and every point of contact between them suddenly goes ice cold. It's only from years of knowing him that Zero knows not to freak out. It doesn't surprise him to know that Aidou's not that thrilled to hear what he's been doing, because out of all of them Aidou is probably the one who was most dismayed when they agreed not to mention Kaname around Ryū. He was also the one most relieved by the decision years later, when he realised that it meant they could pretend Kaname hadn't been a part of their lives, and the pain he left them with wasn't theirs.

Zero understands his apprehension regarding them dropping this agreement completely. It's not a fear of Kaname, nor of talking about him, but the fear of rediscovering old wounds and reopening them. A fear of not remembering him right. Of remembering him too perfectly. Of forgetting what mattered. Of remembering what didn't.

For the split second that Zero is encased in Aidou's ice, the burning cold of it stings like acid. For one moment he feels like frozen glass, brittle and utterly transparent.

Then Aidou looks at him, and he thaws.

The frost creeping over the everything slowly recedes, and the temperature of the room rises as the coals in the fireplace crackle and spit loudly. Aidou shoots his husband a look of thanks, and then turns to focus on Zero. His expression asks why? but Zero just shakes his head. Not now, he says, slipping his arm through Aidou's. He feels his fingers twitch and then curl around his elbow.

"So," he murmurs, "You can't do anything about this awful weather then?"

The corner of Aidou's lip quirks briefly. "I've tried, but ugh… the cold doesn't bother me anyway." Then his eyes bulge and he sputters. "Oh god, I didn't mean to — it's the girls. That blasted movie. They've played it so often I swear I can recite it in my sleep — "

"Frozen," Zero says, all-too-aware of what movie Aidou is referencing, and hating that he knows what it is.

"Ugh. I thought from the title that I'd love the movie, and I did, but I hate that it's everywhere, and ugh…" Aidou shudders exaggeratedly. "I would give all my money just to stop the kids singing that song. You know the one."

Zero grins. "Maybe you should try to — "

"Don't you dare say it!" Aidou howls, jabbing him in the chest. "I've heard enough of that from Kain than I rightly deserve. He called me Elsa, Zero." He points at himself, wide-eyed. "Me — "

"Aidou."

"It's madness, is what it is. Why they can't just 'let it go', I'll never understand — "

"Aidou!" Zero laughs.

With conversation rippling all over the room and the low hum of contented voices burbling in the background, he almost feels content. Almost feels complete. But still, there are things that stick out to Zero that give him pause. Ryū and the girls are squashed together on the sofa, but whether subconsciously or not, none of them venture over onto the seat closest to the fireplace where all those new cushions are laid. And it's like when you know a song or piece of music so well that one tiny change to it — the key is different, or the tempo is slightly off — and it is enough to throw you. Something's not quite right. Something is missing.

Zero leans closer to Aidou to murmur in his ear. "Later on I might need your advice on something."

"Okay?"

"Also, take a look at this for me and tell me what you think," he says, slipping the pendant into his hand.

"Of course." Aidou frowns a little, fumbling with it. "But isn't this…"

"There is something happening, Aidou," Zero says lowly, his eyes lingering over Ryū's smiling face. "I'm sure you've noticed it too," he adds, watching Aidou carefully for a reaction. "But has Kasumi or anyone else mentioned anything to you?" That 'anyone else' being Yuuki.

"No, but if I had to make a guess… is it to do with Kaname?" Aidou asks, barely above a whisper. Zero bites his lip in answer. "Hm."

"It's more than him though. I believe it is to do with him, but there's something else… something I sense that is coming."

Out of all of them, Aidou has the best nose for danger, so Zero assumes he must have sensed it too. Almost like a drop of blood on the wind. Aidou's frown clears a little and he nods. "Mm, I think I might know what you're talking about."

"Later," Zero says, and Aidou hums again.

They return to watching the others, and standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they are, it sort of feels like he and Aidou are separate from the main party. Such is the effect of mentioning Kaname in Aidou's presence nowadays, Zero muses. He has never quite forgiven himself for not being there for Kaname when he passed, or warning Zero before it could happen — not that Zero blames him at all. The guilt, blame and fear force them to stand together and alone, and from the corner of his eye Zero sees Aidou scrape his teeth over his lower lip, leaving it red and glistening.

"Is it hard?" he asks in another whisper. Everywhere is hearing distance of him, Zero wants to point out, but sometimes even the illusion of privacy is sometimes a comfort. "Talking about him. Telling Ryū all about…"

Zero hums thoughtfully. "It is, but it isn't." Aidou glances at him questioningly. He sighs. "Honestly though? It's sort of nice. Hard too, yes, but also good."

Aidou mumbles something under his breath, and for a while they stand in companionable silence watching the others. Watching them laugh. Watching them smile and talk and be merry.

"No one ever told me," Aidou then says, very softly. "That grief felt so like fear." After a beat, he sneaks another look at Zero. "C.S. Lewis."

Humming again, Zero nods. "Good quote. True."

"Yes," Aidou exhales. "Very true."

They watch the children cluster around Takuma and Kain whilst Zero's brothers snore, their heads mashed together, cheek-to-cheek. With the fire casting the room's occupants in an orangey glow, Zero reckons that he should be feeling warmer, that empty feeling still has him in its clutches and he's tired. Tired of feeling tired. It's exhausting having to worry about so much, and unpacking all these memories. All this reminiscing is bringing his old grief back with a vengeance. And why is it that the act of transforming grief into mourning wearies the soul, he wonders?

"Zero."

"Mm?"

"I can't make this winter pass any faster than it's already doing," Aidou says quietly, almost apologetically. "I try to every year, but this winter is so bad, it almost feels like — no. Ignore me. I'm just being stupid."

Again, Aidou looks flustered by his admission and rather guilty for mentioning anything. A chill returns to the room, and fog creeps into the void of Zero's mind as he compares this winter to the one Aidou is referring to.

"It's just bad weather," Zero finds himself saying, though he cannot feel his lips as they form the words. "It'll pass."

It doesn't pass nearly fast enough.

They decide to stay on past New Year's when the thick snow melts into black ice, making the roads impassable — just as Ryū had predicted. Despite being confined indoors there is no shortage of things to do. Such is normally the case when one has time to catch up with one's family, and whilst Zero is quite happy to spend his time playing games and chatting to an certain extent, he is rather grateful when Takuma whisks Zero away one day with a secretive smile on his lips.

The covertness of this action suddenly reminds Zero that amidst all he celebrating and merrymaking, he has yet to discuss things with Aidou. He hasn't even asked him about the pendant, but Takuma drags him across the Manor before he can think any more on it, chattering happily about finally being able to show Zero what he's been working on in the garden.

"I know it's still cold outside but at least the weather's dry today, and I won't take you out for too long anyway. I promise!"

As Takuma picks his way over a stone path and through the first of three ornamental herb gardens, Zero fills his lungs with the crisp air blowing down from the mountains and he closes his eyes, trusting Takuma to guide him. He has to cast his mind back two years to remember what this garden was like filled with sunlight, and as he does so he hears a slow, tired voice speak. "Mint is my favourite," it says, as warm as the summer that memory has preserved. "It's good for the nausea. Stimulates the appetite. Also, it smells nice."

With only the evergreen pines still releasing their sharp scent, that memory is a fragile, precious thing. Zero remembers chewing on mint leaves with Shiki and bringing him things to crush between his fingers to smell. Rosemary and lavender were his favourites too, but Zero also brought him bunches of sweet basil and lemon balm to nibble at.

There is nothing of that around now, in the dead of winter.

"Ah, here it is," Takuma says, forcing Zero to open his eyes. "Well, it's not much further anyway. Watch your step."

They are somewhere past the herb gardens, slightly west of the place Zero was expecting Takuma was leading him to. He twists around and for a moment he cannot find Shiki's headstone anywhere. The dark grey slab usually sticks out like a sore thumb against everything else. As he approaches the white stone arbour it was placed under, the freshly poured cement indicates where it has been recently removed.

He spins around to find Takuma watching him with the same expression he had when he watched Zero clearing the toys from the floor. "Takuma," he bursts out. "Where is he?" Takuma had sounded so pleased before. So eager. "Did you move him somewhere?"

Then he sees what he probably should have noticed before realising the headstone is missing.

On he other side of the arbour is a strikingly familiar sight: an enormous, perfectly circular pond cut flat against the ground, exactly as he had described it to Takuma. It's hard to see with the fringe of frost muddying the edges, but at the edges it appears to be shallower, deepening towards the centre like a sunken bowl. Only the white-marble rim edged with near-black slate marks the pond's edge from the ground itself, and then the water stretches out far across what used to be a flowerbed. The diameter has to be at least five metres, Zero thinks. Much larger than the mirror-like pond in Juri's rose garden, and yet obviously modelled from that design.

There is clearly something different about the intention of this pond though. It is made softer with simpler lines, and thus it is far more solemn. That's the thing about memorials, he supposes, recognising it now for what it is. They are made for people to be remembered, and thus the feelings they evoke are somewhere between reverence and regret.

"It's beautiful, Takuma," Zero says, crouching down to run a finger over the smooth marble lip. "You've truly outdone yourself."

A tall flowering plum tree stands by the water's edge, the frosted buds shimmering in the pale sun. The tree hasn't released its blossoms yet, but Zero can already imagine the branches swathed in frothy, tiny blooms and then loaded with bright red fruit later in the year.

"I'm planning to put lotuses in the water, but they'll only come up in the summer," Takuma tells him, adding to the picture in Zero's mind. He can see the pool studded with dozens of delicate star-like lotuses, floating like little candles atop the water. Green dragonflies drifting idly from flower to flower.

"Beautiful," Zero repeats, dipping his fingers in the icy water. He squints up at Takuma, but with the sun casting his face in shadow he can't read his face. "So, you removed his headstone, but — "

"He's still there," Takuma says, pointing over to the arbour. "I just wanted to change the place where we come to visit him."

Zero tilts his head. "Okay, but why?"

"Partly because there was that earthquake a few months ago. It cracked the ground open all over the place, making a right mess of things. It split the headstone right down the middle, you know? Like some sort of cheesy horror movie — what's with the face? Don't tell me you didn't hear about it. It was right in the heat of summer. It was in the news!"

"You know I don't watch the news anymore," Zero says. Despite the large distance between their homes and the huge mountain range separating them, if the earthquake was that big, he wonders if how he could have possibly missed it. "How bad was it?" he asks.

"Simply awful," Takuma exclaims, bringing him over to the arbour again. He shows him the cracks in the floor, ceiling, and all over the supports. "In fact, it's probably not such a good idea for us to stand here," he says, quickly dragging Zero back to the pond.

"So, the earthquake," he says abruptly. "That was part of the reason."

Zero hums. "What else?"

Takuma sighs, and smile is fades away.

"You already know the reason, Zero," he says, turning bravely to meet Zero's knowing look. "You were right. Everything you said, and what you tried to do for me when it happened… I should have listened to you. Instead, as you warned me, I did come to regret my decisions."

Zero shakes his head. He had tried at the time to convince Takuma to not rush through making his decisions, but by the time they got to the Manor, Shiki was already six feet under. The arbour was added a couple weeks later, but the whole thing was rushed, as far as Zero was concerned. He'd understood Takuma's desire to get it done quickly, but none of it was done to Shiki's taste nor Takuma's either, and the work was shoddy. It was not at all like Takuma's other meticulously designed projects. At the time Takuma had been in so distressed though that he hadn't the heart to criticise Takuma him for it, and so he'd let it go.

Whilst Zero had never been that close to Shiki, he knew him well enough to know that for an ex-model he was rather reserved in nature. When he thinks of Shiki during his last years, he remembers him spending warmer days out in the herb gardens. They never went further out than the second one, because that was as far out as Shiki could walk. They'd bring cushions to soften the hard surfaces for him to sit on more comfortably, and by the end of each summer those cushions would be worn and grass-stained. The wood floors would be streaked with lines of mud from each passing of his wheelchair, and they would squeeze out every last moment in the sun before winter crept in. Then, Shiki would spend the winter lounging on the seat closest to the fire reading books to the girls, sipping a mixed brew made from whatever herbs they'd dried over the summer.

He wouldn't have wanted anything big, Zero thinks. Probably not even something as big as the pond, but looking at it now it isn't too bad. It definitely suits Shiki better than that old grey headstone ever did.

"At first I thought herb garden would have been better for him, but with the way things happened… I think he would be happier here," Takuma says softly. "Obviously I didn't have his actual grave moved, but you know what I mean — "

"I thought you said the earthquake hit it?"

"Yes, but the coffin wasn't disturbed. Anyway," Takuma says. "As I was saying, I considered the herb garden, but it is too small. Also, we don't need anything there to remember him, you know? His memory is already strongly tied to that place. I couldn't stop thinking about how he was always trying to reach just a little further beyond it though. That stuck with me — how he would be looking in this direction. I would have carried him here, if he'd let me," Takuma smiles wryly. "If we'd only had a few more years, I believe he could have made it here himself."

"Yeah, he probably would've," Zero agrees, and then pauses. "Wait, what do you mean 'with the way things happened?'"

He senses a story coming, and just as suspected Takuma breaks out into a grin. "You won't believe it Zero, but I swear, everything I'm telling you is the truth. After the earthquake happened, you see, I was up to my ears in paperwork. The damage around this area was so extensive that it was a nightmare trying to get it all sorted out. At the time, I was so mithered that I barely had time to think about what to do about Shiki, but then I started having these dreams."

Zero's breath catches.

"Such strange, beautiful dreams," Takuma says, staring somewhere into the middle distance. "And I guess I was inspired. To be honest, when I first saw the damage to his grave I didn't know what to do. The more I thought about it, the more I realised how little I cared about it, because it meant so little — to me and to him. It just wasn't Shiki. I was more upset by the fact that I didn't care that his gravestone than the fact that it had been broken. When the dreams came it was like… like someone was telling me it was okay to not care. It mattered more that I had realised what was truly important." He looks directly at Zero now. "Remembering him, and the person he was. Remembering what he liked and didn't like. That is what matters in the end, not what grave he lies in."

His throat clicks when he swallows. "I tried to make this place as beautiful as I could, but as beautiful as it is I still hate coming here, because here is where I feel it most. The unbearable weight of what could have been. Our lives yet unlived."

Zero knows exactly what he means.

"I am thankful to have this it though, if only because it is the one place where he's never been anything but dead. It's easier to miss him here, than in all the places where he was alive."

He has a good point, and Zero cannot help but think of the lake-house which was abandoned soon after Ryū was born. He thinks of Ryū himself, and realises that whilst he doesn't have a grave at which he can mourn Kaname, that is one thing he does have.

"So that is why you chose here, instead of the herb garden," Zero deduces. "On top of everything else."

Takuma laughs suddenly. "It is, it is, but I haven't even got to the good part yet! The dreams, Zero," he says, when Zero frowns in confusion. "They are what inspired me, as I said before, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I was dreaming about all types of water, you see," he says, his eyes falling to the pond. "Everything from lakes to rivers, from to rock pools to the open sea. With each dream I felt my guilt washing away. It was like something was calling to me from the water, and suddenly I could breathe again."

"Water," Zero says numbly. And suddenly I could breathe again. Funny how all of a sudden Zero can't. "You dreamt about water."

"I know it sounds weird, and it was, but it was also… I don't know. Comforting?"

Comforting. Zero can almost feel himself sinking into the ground, with miles and miles of ground pressing down on him from above. He swallows thickly, tasting dirt and — and — "Was there anything else you dreamt of?"

Takuma blinks, clearly taken aback. "Nothing I can think of, off the top of my head."

Zero blows out a long, slow breath and lets his head fall against his chest.

"Zero, is something wrong?" He eyes Zero seriously for a second, and then smiles again. "I told you, I haven't even got to the good part yet!"

"Tell us about the earthquake."

They both jump, but even before he has fully turned around, Zero knows who it is.

"Ryū?" he squawks. "What are you doing out here? It's too cold — "

Amazingly enough, Aidou is with him. Whilst he hasn't exactly been avoiding Ryū per se, he has been far less willing to hang around him than he usually is, much to everyone (but Zero's) surprise. He's seen Aidou feed Ryū his blood a couple times, but after he caught Aidou crying in the bathroom hours later, he never saw him do it again. Seeing Aidou now with his hand on Ryū's shoulder and a grim look on his face, Zero's words dry up on his tongue.

"The earthquake?" Takuma repeats, blinking at Ryū in bemusement.

"Ryū…"

"It's important, ma," Ryū argues, wafting his hand at him dismissively. "It's related." He pins Takuma with a penetrating look. "The earthquake. Where and when did it happen?"

"Around April, right?" Aidou answers instead, turning to Takuma for confirmation. "And it wasn't far from here."

"Which direction?"

Aidou bites his lip, but whilst he tries to get his phone out to check Takuma raises his hand immediately to point, and then he waves back and forth in that direction. "All the way along here, in a sort of westerly direction. There were fractures all over this region, but most of them have been filled up now. We were told it was caused by some sort of built up tension being released along a really huge weakness."

"And did anything else happen?"

Takuma scratches his ear. "Well sure. Lots of damage to property, of course — "

"Anything unusual?" Ryū presses.

This makes Takuma pause for a long while in thought. "Well there was plenty of strange stuff happening," Takuma starts by saying. "But I mean, it's well known that animals tend to behave strangely before natural disasters. They can sense that sort of stuff coming from a mile away, days ahead of the event. We would've expected to see it from dogs, or cats maybe though. Not fish."

"Fish?" Zero echoes weakly. It seems he has been reduced to single words now. His mind feels like it's being stretched.

"They were caught swimming upstream, and they weren't salmon or anything that's meant to swim against the current. They were all sorts of different fish, but people said they saw that they were glittering. There were even those koi you tried to spawn in the pond, right?" Aidou asks Takuma.

"That's the other thing!" he exclaims instead, turning to Zero excitedly. "The pond. I told you I was dreaming about water and that was my inspiration, but this is the good part: the other reason why I built the pond was that it literally made itself. Tell them, Aidou," he begs, beaming, "It was incredible. The ground cracked open and then water came gushing out — "

"And it wasn't liquefaction**," Aidou cuts in. "Just thought I'd make that clear. This was actual spring water coming up from the bedrock, even though this place is nowhere near any underwater reservoirs, or — "

"I took it as a sign," Takuma interrupts, his eyes gleaming. "To build. So I got stones to line the pond-bed, but when the water came up like that it just didn't stop, so for a while it was overflowing the pond itself. It made this little stream that ran off to the river — you know that one in the woods?" Takuma pauses to gasp for breath. "It was a bit of a stupid idea to release the koi straight into the pond at the time. I realise that in hindsight, but I wasn't expecting them to throw themselves down that little stream, was I? Even when we caught them and put them back they kept jumping out at night and well, they all escaped — "

All through this rambling explanation, Zero cannot take his eyes off Ryū. The fish, he projects towards him, remembering sinuous muscles and shimmering scales and fins. His mind is being stretched beyond capacity. Any more and it might just snap. Still, he feels a rush of exhilaration that more of the puzzle is coming together, and can't help thinking: Ryū, you were right, it's all related —

"Apart from the fish, anything else?" Ryū presses.

His uncles hem and haw for a bit, but then Takuma locks eyes with Aidou, and they seem to come to an agreement.

"The castle," Aidou says.

And that's it. It snaps. Zero feels himself shatter. Feels all the pieces he fall into a clump, coming together to form something. He cannot speak. Cannot find the words to express what he is feeling or what he wants. Instead, he waits for Aidou to continue.

"It was already in a poor state, as you know," he says to Zero, mostly. "And it's been almost two decades since it was… abandoned. Since then it's become something of a hang-out place for the type of kids who like that kind of stuff. You know the sort. The Council have been pressuring us to have it demolished for some time, but even though we've been protesting them all this time, the earthquake didn't really give us much of a choice. Even though it didn't make it much worse than it was before, they got what they wanted. They got full support from the Board, so Takuma had to sign off on it. Whilst it's not to happen for a while yet, it's been scheduled for this year."

Takuma winces when Zero cannot hold back a gasp. "I'm sorry, Zero. I was going to tell you, I swear," he hurries to say, "But it was just… it was never the right time. The people were asking for it to be taken down, and I was running out of excuses. The place is dangerous to walk about in, not that those kids should have been messing around there anyway. Technically they were trespassing — " He cuts off here for a moment, eyes flitting around in almost an embarrassed manner. "Those kids are so stupid. Some of them — the things they were saying — "

"There have been rumours of strange sightings around the ruins," Aidou explains, and from his tone Zero can tell that Ryū must have clued him in on exactly what he and Zero were investigating. He has gone a startling shade of white though, which also alerts Zero to the fact that bad news is coming. "They say there is a ghost, or some sort of creature lurking around the castle grounds."

All this time it feels like they've been on the cusp of something, and now finally he can feel them reaching it. As Zero tries to absorb this new information — a ghost, a creature — Ryū weaves the threads together in their minds. All this time, he says, with strands of starlight glittering from his small hands, we have been remembering things together, but at the same time I feel like I've been waiting for something to happen as well. I feel like this is something I've been waiting for my whole life. Something that has yet to happen, but I don't think it's far off now.

"Why do you say that?" Zero demands, his heart racing. He isn't afraid like he was before, of whatever is coming. Somehow, now he knows that it is nothing to fear.

Ryū considers the question, but turns to his uncles. "Where is this castle you're talking about?"

Takuma's lips become a thin line as he eyes Ryū. "Why do you ask?"

Ryū doesn't answer.

"No. No. It's too dangerous to go there. The ground is unstable, and the building is in tatters — "

"We need to see it," Ryū says firmly, though he is leaning towards a whine. He tries to sway Zero instead, not that he needs convincing. "Whatever we're waiting for us is there. I can feel it."

How do you know?

I just do.

Zero nods, agreeing far too easily, much to Takuma's obvious horror.

"But they say there is a monster haunting the castle. Why the hell do you want to check it out? Are you crazy? It's probably just some homeless person squatting there — "

"All the more reason to go and take them back safe then."

Takuma jabs an accusing finger at Ryū's innocent expression. "Don't you dare pretend that that is why you want to do this. Zero," he begs, hoping to gain some support. "Don't tell me you're actually okay with this — "

"This thing you're waiting for," Aidou interrupts again. Zero can practically see his mind whirring, and he has no doubt that even without the gift of precognition, he at least has a vague idea of where this is heading. "If it's really linked to everything Ryū has told me, surely you have some idea of what it could be."

Zero feels like every part of him knows what it is. Every bone, every drop of his blood, every fibre of his being. Everything except his conscious mind. As surely as plants know to reach up towards the sun, or birds know when to fly south, or fish know which waters belong to them. He knows what they'll find.

Come back to me, he had begged. Even as a shadow. Even as a dream.

"You've grown, Ryū."

Both of them frown at Aidou, but his apparent non-sequitur isn't as out of the blue as it sounds, and there is no way he'd say such a thing jokingly, knowing that Ryū is sensitive to his appearance. Aidou cocks his head though, his mouth curving sweetly. "I can see it," he insists. "But you probably can't, because you're around each other all the time." He walks up to Ryū and draws an imaginary line from the top of his head to Aidou's sternum. "Uh-huh. The last time I checked, you were a good two inches shorter than this."

"You think I've… you think I've grown?" Ryū asks, in an paradoxically small voice.

Aidou's smile widens, and for the first time since they came he looks happy. Aidou sighs, and this must be the last straw for Takuma, because the moment Aidou turns to him his face crumples.

"They need to go," Aidou says softly but firmly, and tips the pendant into Zero's hand, leaning closer to speak to him. "You need to take this with you."

"Alright! Alright then. I don't understand why you want to go there so much, but…" reluctantly he points in the same direction he did before, towards the west. "It's there, just beyond the twin mountains and further up along the valley."

"The valley," Zero gasps, something uncoiling inside him. Something else slotting into place. "The mountain."

The mountain, the valley, the castle, the water.

It's all starting to come together.

"Yeah, about the mountain," Takuma says tightly. "As I said before, the earthquake caused a surprising amount of damage for how relatively contained it was. The mountain was supposedly around where it was triggered, and the side of it got hit pretty bad. Reports say that the land is really unstable there. Lots of landslides happened, leaving loose rock lying around."

"Do we have time before the castle is demolished?" Zero asks desperately.

Takuma looks dismayed. "It's winter, Zero. You are not going up there! The ground is all icy and — "

"It can wait," Ryū says, shocking them all into silence. "It's not time yet," he insists when Zero opens his mouth to argue. Then he holds out his arm, and they all watch as a tiny pink blossom flutters down. The closed bud forces it to spin in a small spiral, coming to rest on his outstretched hand.

"You asked me why I don't think we have long to wait," he says, smiling at Zero. As he passes him the blossom, it unfurls open in his palm. "This is why," he says, grabbing Zero by the chin and gently tipping his head back.

And that is when Zero finally gets it.

It's a tree.

The path is so overgrown it's nearly swallowed up by the sodden ground, but Zero doesn't need to see it to remember the way. He has spent so much time here that without thinking about it, his feet lead him all the way through the valley. The one thing he perhaps forgot was how long the journey was, but it is his brothers he worries about. They insisted on tagging along, despite all of his and Ryū's protests, and he knows they're going to be whining about it for the rest of the week.

He has to admit though, it is a long walk.

Especially with how careful they have to be, with all the mud and loose rock. Their pace slows from time to time, and it's just as well. Zero's breath hitches at the silliest of things, his steps stumbling when he's hit by a wave of nostalgia. I feel like I've been here before, a voice whispers. The familiar shape of the twin mountain peaks, the salty smell of broken rock brought down by the snowmelt, the squelch of boots in muddy grass. Zero angles his face towards a balmy breeze and breathes it in. It's your love that made me who I am, Zero.

This is what it must mean, to be remade.

With each step over mossy rock and marshy grass, it's like he's walking back through the time. He trudges back and forth, up and down the valley, with Death nipping at his heels. If one direction leads towards Death, the other must lead towards Life. As they head uphill, the thought comes to him that this way faces the sun. This way leads upwards. This is the way they need to go.

What are all these strange things you're thinking? Ryū asks, butting his head against Zero's chin. You're not making any sense. During his last time here with Kaname they had been searching for the Facility, and Zero doesn't want Ryū looking at these memories. This is a past he doesn't need to know about.

It's not important, he tells him, pausing for a few minutes for his brothers to catch up. It has been dealt with. It's all in the past.

Okay, he agrees easily enough. Ryū buries his nose in Zero's collar and sighs. Though his body is slumped in Zero's arms and he is well on his way to falling asleep, his mind is abuzz with excitement.

They hear Kaito long before before he comes into view.

"This was a lousy idea!" he immediately roars, growling when he sees that Zero isn't even sweating. Ichiru stumbles in behind him, rolling his eyes.

"Of course it was. It was yours."

"Guys," Zero sighs, adopting his sternest please-try-to-behave-like-adults tone. It never works on either of them, but he lives in eternal hope.

Thankfully, Ryū decides to distract them before they can start again. "So about this castle," he drawls, tilting his head sweetly to the side. "How do you all know about it?"

This prompts a long, winding tale from both his uncles that manages to distract them from bickering. Instead, Ichiru takes great joy in being the one to inform Ryū that he is a prince —

"A prince!" Ryū exclaims, and then pouts. "Why didn't you tell me?"

What follows is a rather ridiculous, even more embellished-upon version of what their reality really was, but Zero doesn't bother to challenge it, intrigued enough by it to let Ichiru tell their story. For some reason he decides to tell it in the style of a fairytale, and Zero isn't quite sure what to think of it at first, but then… it's the first time he's thought of what Kaname did as being worthy of being told as a story, and not a cautionary tale. Look where it got him, has transformed into look where it has brought us. His sacrifice is highlighted as a heroic achievement, and Ryū is given the role of heir to a wondrous legacy. Ichiru starts from when they lived at the castle, and then backtracks to explain Kaname's Ancient origins (completely negating Zero's previous attempt to not overload Ryū with unnecessary details of the past), and from there it keeps flipping back and forth between past and present. Back and forth, up and down. Zero keeps one ear on the almost nonsensical story and the other listening out for that voice.

Ryū also listens to Ichiru's tale with a good amount of skepticism, but his excitement is infectious nevertheless. Every time Zero thinks he's over it, it bubbles up again. He sees all the countless hours Ryū has spent meticulously researching woodland things, and how he is each thing he has read about matches up with the scenery around them now, confirming that they are on the right path. Look, he keeps going, pointing all around them. Look, look, look.

By midday they have just reached the edge of the castle grounds, and they stop for a brief rest, during which Kaito tries to 'crown' Ryū with a poorly constructed thing mostly made from weeds. As Takuma had warned them, there is little left standing. It is mostly just rubble that has been taken over by the elements, and vines have grown into a green skin which paints everything the same colour. It definitely lends to the feel of a fairytale, and with it hardly recognisable to him like this, Zero finds it a lot easier to return to what was once, for all accounts, his prison. Looking back, that one year of solitude is nothing compared to what he has endured since. He stands amidst the rubble with his hands on his hips, and laughs at how much weaker he was back then.

Then, as he's ushering his family back onto their feet so they can continue to search the castle, Zero's eye catches on something. At first he isn't quite sure what about it is bothering him. It is just a mountain — the other mountain that is, twinned to the one the castle sits beside. It is against the sun at this time of day, so Zero squints for a long while, and then he realises what about it has changed.

Reports say that the land is really unstable there. Lots of landslides happened, leaving loose rock lying around.

A landslide caused this, but not the one triggered by the earthquake. This one happened a long time ago. Zero's mind flies back sixteen years to when they were running across the frozen lake, and that thunderous sound they'd heard that had stopped them in their tracks. He remembers seeing that sheet of snow that they saw sliding down the mountainside, and how the rock was exposed underneath.

"What are you looking at?"

"Just the mountain," he answers automatically, but what used to be one huge mass has split right down the middle. That was the mountain in which he found Kaname as a young boy. The mountain in which both Kaname and Isamu had lain for ten thousand years. It has now become two.

"O-kay," Kaito drawls, "Whilst you do that, the kid and I are gonna head over to the west wing — aargh! What the fuck!"

Kaito scuttles to the side, spraying mud everywhere as he topples into Zero's arms. "What the hell, Kai?" he snarls, though he lets Kaito hide behind him.

"Don't blame me! That thing was going for my eyes! Yeah, I'm talking about you — you fucking bird!" Immediately, Zero spins to look in the direction Kaito is shouting. His stomach drops.

The bird isn't even looking at them, but Zero could recognise it anywhere. Even from behind, a bird that size, with feathers that deep, deep black, and little tufts atop its head…

"Ulli," he calls, and claps a hand to his mouth when the owl's head swivels around, and he lets out a very unimpressed hoot.

"What an utter bastard," Kaito seethes, but Zero lets out a bark of surprised laughter.

"I don't believe it," he breathes, grinning madly as those huge lamp-like eyes land on the back of Ryū's head, and Ulli lets out a slightly more appreciative hoo. "Yes, this is him. Ryū," he calls, shaking the boy awake and turning him towards the tree. "Look, do you recognise who that is?"

Ryū's eyes bulge, and he wriggles to be let down, but Zero grabs onto him tightly.

The fact that Ulli is here still has him rather shaken, but Zero knows there is no time to waste.

"He's not here, is he Ulli?" Zero asks, and the thought of him waiting elsewhere makes him ache.

Ulli ruffles his feathers, but Zero is already turning instinctively to face a small set of stairs carved into the mountainside. Something in his gut is telling him to go there. His heart thuds when Ulli lets out a loud squawk as he swoops down from his branch. Kaito yelps as he glides past them, but Zero merely hoists Ryū higher onto his hip and gives Ulli a nod. "After you, then."

Ulli ducks down to nip Ryū on the ear, and then rises above them, soaring up through the trees —

"Zero!" Kaito cries, when Zero goes to follow him. "Zero, wait up!"

"Stay down here, both of you," he calls back over his shoulder. "I'll come back. I just need to — I can't wait any longer! I'm sorry!"

Zero doesn't give him a chance to reply, racing through the trees faster than a breeze. The forest is strangely silent around him. He can almost imagine that the trees are holding their breaths, watching him pass through them in anticipation. Zero runs smoothly, his feet beating a steady rhythm and never slipping — never faltering once over the uneven, broken ground. In front of him, Ulli dips in and out of view. Occasionally he hoots, but he doesn't turn to check if Zero is keeping up. Halfway up the side of the mountain, Zero pauses for breath, and isn't concerned when Ulli flies further ahead. He knows where they are going now. He can afford to stop along the way now, and properly check out how the years have changed these places he used to know.

Here, it is worse in some ways than the castle grounds. Where the snowmelt and flooding have worn at the lower parts of the castle ruins and stained them dark with mud, here the elements have chipped away at parts of the wall and left the pergola in tatters. The magic that concealed it from being found has completely disappeared, and there is not even a trace of it when Zero makes his way through the wonky tunnel of lush vines that are still growing somewhat upright. When they reach the end of it it's like being hit in the face with a wall of scent and colour.

The roses. They're still alive, though a lot of them are wilting now, and the vines are a tangled mess on the ground. Zero sucks in lung after lung of the intoxicatingly sweet scent, and when he opens his eyes he is staring at the original version of the pond Takuma just recently built. The water surface is as still as it ever was, unbroken and mirror-like. The last time he came here, he was sent to retrieve something from Juri — the Weapon she'd made and hidden. Now he comes bringing something to show what he made, he thinks with a smile, kissing Ryū on the side of his head.

The boy stirs briefly, his nose twitching madly at the scent of so many roses.

"This was your grandmother's garden," he says to him, rocking Ryū side to side as he slips further into sleep.

He's not at all surprised by how exhausted Ryū is in spite of having been carried for most of the journey. He has been carrying far more on his small shoulders than any of them will probably ever realise. He can rest, now that his part is done. Zero drops another kiss on his forehead, and then looks up to find Ulli perched on a drooping vine. For some reason he almost appears nervous to Zero, what with the way that his head keeps turning and he keeps plucking at his feathers.

"What is it?" he asks, but of course Ulli doesn't answer.

Instead he blinks slowly at Zero, and then he leaps off his perch to fly further up the mountain. Zero watches him go, shaking his head. But that is when it dawns on him: this is it. A few steps further and they'll be there.

He pushes open the rusted gate with his foot and continues past the jungle of wild flowers and through a patch of waist-high grass. When he reaches the end of the small stretch of land, he hears the sound of a burbling stream, and all of the sudden his eyes are stinging.

He remembers that sound.

Zero turns in a full circle so he can properly appreciate the orchard in all its glory. Now that it's spring, the trees are full of blushing blossoms. He remembers coming here on his wedding day and being shown a rather sad looking sapling barely rooted to the ground yet. There are quite a few adolescent trees growing now, but one stands out above them all. It is the one that was given to him, now a handsome thing with long, delicate branches.

He takes his time to wander amongst the other trees first, knowing that that tree is his end destination, and as his eyes follow the line from the roots to the canopies, the dream flashes across his eyes. Pink clouds and black lightning indeed. Looking up at the branches above him, he can't blame himself for being fooled by it. The breeze comes then, coaxing the tree to rain a thick shower of blossoms on them. Zero holds his free hand out to catch a handful.

Slowly he bends down and eases Ryū down, laying him in a patch of thick grass, and pulling his jacket over him. Zero would worry that he has chosen to take a nap now of all times if it weren't for the way that Ryū is smiling in his sleep. If whatever dreams he's having are good enough to make him smile like that, then there is no need to worry. He tucks the jacket better around him, and after a moment's hesitation, weaves a thin net of vines over him to hold it in place. Then Zero stands, and he knows exactly where to go next. He smiles at Ulli as he passes him by and the owl nods back, but not before dropping something on the ground.

Zero picks it up the pendant, and isn't at all surprised to see the diamonds have been restored.

Of course they have.

Zero finds him standing under the tree where it all started. He falters when he sees the shadowy figure ripple under the dappled light of the branches. He has waited all this time, and yet it comes upon him without warning. But then the ache for him grows stronger than anything else. Stronger than his anger, greater than his sorrow. Zero trips and stumbles the rest of the way towards Kaname, his heart in his throat when he comes into view.

"How?"

The distance between them gives Zero the strength to speak. To ask that question instead of surrendering himself to those open arms, to that welcome embrace. The yearning in him isn't over, even though simply being in Kaname's presence is a soothing balm. Zero remembers constantly wanting answers from Kaname, always frustrated by how elusive the man was, and how he hid behind all his countless secrets.

Now he has no desire to know everything. He just wants to know this one thing: how did he come back?

"Please," he begs, shivering at the sweep of Kaname's gaze over him, his eyes burning a hot trail. This close he can smell him. He could reach out and touch him. It is already too much, but when Kaname turns his head slightly, it is obvious when he sees Ryū — the expression he has almost breaks Zero's resolve. Nevertheless, he needs to know: "Tell me how I can be certain that you are real."

Finally Kaname meets his eyes, and Zero cannot resist him then. He trembles at the feel of Kaname's hands on him, his lips brushing Zero's eyelashes, his fingers tangled in his hair. The way he pulls him close enough that there is no denying that he is here. That he is real.

He only wanted one answer, but there is a lot tied to it. Despite the fact that he is clinging to Kaname, it is so difficult to believe he is here. Zero cannot trust himself.

"You already know parts of it, Zero," Kaname says, "But the only way I can tell you what happened is to show you."

Zero lifts his chin.

"Show me."

Kaname's lips twitches into a smile, and then he is pressing that smile to Zero's mouth, and he can feel Kaname's jaw moving around, him biting his tongue, him opening his mouth to Zero's. There is a burst of flavour, and then a flood of memories.

Here, Kaname says, leading him by the hand towards two paths. Farther ahead he can see that they merge together, but for a long stretch they are separate.

Which one do we take?

It doesn't matter, Kaname says, far more interested in threading his fingers between Zero's. More overwhelmed by how it feels to be together again. One is my soul, the other my body.

Zero decides to take both paths at the same time.

The first thing he sees-feels-hears is the shattering. It isn't painful. Just loud, and with each bit of Kaname that turns into diamond and shatters, he feels Kaname's soul disappear into the ether. Then it is just his body in a million tiny pieces, and for an untold length of time he lies there, covered in blood and more and more snow. The spring comes, and this is how it happened: with each passing year, each winter and each spring, the snow would come and then it would melt, and the waters would carry Kaname down. Each tiny fragment of Kaname crept into the river by passage of snowmelt and rain, and then the sparkling pieces of him were swept out to sea.

I would have let it take me, Kaname says, squeezing Zero's hand when his steps falter. I would have become one with the ocean, had I done so.

Zero glances at him, and then he resumes walking.

But you didn't.

But I didn't.

At this point Zero turns his attention towards Kaname's soul — the same soul he saw smothered out like a flame. I was here, at the mouth of a river, Kaname says, at the edge of a great big void. One moment longer and I would have been lost to it forever. But then I heard them call my name, and I looked into the darkness and saw them.

Two people, a man and a woman. Without bodies, it takes a moment for Zero to recognise who they are, but then he knows. Katsuo, he breathes, glaring at the charcoal smear that glides over a cloud of something with a satiny sheen. Wakana. The two swirl around each other and then float towards him — no, towards Kaname. They envelope him and for a moment Zero feels a rush of joy so bright it almost bowls him over, but then they pull away and suddenly he can see their faces.

He has never seen Katsuo so happy, nor Wakana look so at peace. Whilst Zero can feel how relieved Kaname is to find them like this, he wonders what took them so long. They have been dead for over twenty years now, but then Zero remembers what Kaname told him. The only way to kill Katsuo and Wakana is to kill me.

They were waiting for Kaname then. His death was what would allow them to move on.

He doesn't want to dwell on Kaname's death any longer now that Kaname is back, but then the question comes again: how?

The two appearance of Katsuo and Wakana completely distracted Zero from noticing something standing between them, but now Kaname redirects his gaze to a smaller, fainter smudge. It is stood between their legs, something about its behaviour almost endearingly shy. It reminds Zero of something — no, someone.

It's then that Zero remembers that Wakana had been pregnant at the time of her death.

It's then that Zero remembers, the balance was maintained by three — always three.

It's then that he understands.

This is the child that never lived. Somehow they smile up at Kaname without a face, somehow they speak to him without a voice. Go, they says, nudging Kaname away from the edge. I will take your place.

This is not what was supposed to happen, but Kaname watches them with an odd sense of detachment. These are responsibilities he took upon himself, that he has carried with him all this time. He looks at that child's soul that glitters like a distant star, and suddenly he remembers that he has a child. A son. He has a husband too, and a brother, and a family.

They were together, finally, Kaname says now, cutting into the memory, and moments after saying that the three of them are blown away like dust on the wind. I was glad to see it. But then, I asked myself: where does that leave me? Where do I go from here?

A piece of paper flutters into their vision. It has a little heart drawn on it. The ink morphs into letters.

Go to our tree.

Go to where it all began. It's too incredible, too improbably to believe that Kaname's heart is what lead him here, but the fact that he is back means Zero will believe the impossible. Surely that would have meant he came back a long time ago though, unless — unless the passage of time is different here, in death. Unless it has taken years, instead of minutes, to reach this point.

I couldn't go leave yet though. Although I remembered you, I had forgotten myself. The smashing of Kaname's body, the splintering of his soul. It ate at him and left him with nothing. I decided I'd try to find myself in your memories, but when I reached for you, you were in agony. You were already suffering, and I had just made it worse for you. Soon you could not bear it.

Zero remembers the drag of the third year pulling him down. How he drowned in it. How it consumed him, his grief. How it took everything from him, even his breath from his body.

Then I heard him calling for me.

As though through a thick wall, Zero hears someone screaming: Ryū, when he was a toddler. Deep down Zero can also hear his soul crying for help. Kaname's voice turns taut with condemnation. You stopped breathing, Zero. You almost died.

Ashamed, Zero can only watch as Kaname's soul flickers, his resolve wavering.

Because of me, Kaname says, dragging himself back towards the void. I am the one who drove you to this. I almost killed you, Zero.

It wasn't your fault.

It was unintentional, Kaname agrees, but too dangerous. I decided to pull back. Let you recover from it, and hopefully come back to find you healed. But when I came back there was nothing. Not a trace of me left.

Oh.

Oh, that month.

Oh, the forgetting. He remembers now, the careful dissection of his heart. How he tore it out, and purged Kaname's existence from his mind.

Let him go, I told myself. Do not bring them any more pain. It is better for him now. They do not need you anymore. You cannot hurt him if you do not exist.

To Zero's horror, he watches Kaname step closer to the abyss, but then he hesitates at the edge. Once again it is a child who stops him — but this time the child is theirs. Just as Zero cannot forget the sound of Ryū's screams that day, Kaname cannot ignore the pull of him — the part of his soul that lives in Ryū. Their bond that was forged in the snow.

Zero cannot breathe in the eternity that spans between Kaname considering this, and him deciding what to do about it.

He wants me, the Kaname of that moment realises, sounding shocked by the fact that he is missed. He listens to Ryū's desperate cries, and his soul becomes rooted to the spot. He cannot bring himself to move, neither forwards nor back. Instead he observes, and for years he does nothing. It takes years of watching Ryū retreat further into the silence of his own head for Kaname to start to wonder, to doubt that his absence is doing them any favours. It takes hearing Zero's beg him for help for Kaname to make his choice. He takes a gamble with it, reaching out towards the ones who loved him once more. The ones he hopes still hold him in their hearts.

This is how he was remembered. He awakes in Zero's mind, and spills over into Ryū's, and with all the strength Kaname has he latches onto Ryū's eagerness. His desire to learn more about Kaname is what Kaname holds onto. He wants me, he thinks, and that thought is what spurs him into action. With Ryū's soul twinkling in the darkness, and Zero's memories to guide him home, Kaname turned his back on the void and walks towards the light.

This is where the two paths converge and his soul tethers itself to his remains, which have by now been ground down into a fine silt. It is a slow process, but eventually he manages to gather himself together. He knows that he cannot do this alone though, and as Kaname stares up from the water up into the blazing sky, he wonders how he ever thought he could. Then, a familiar voice cries out to him from the blue.

Come back to me, it begs. Even as a shadow. Even as a dream.

There is no doubt in his mind now: he has to go back. The question comes to him then, the same as what Zero has been asking all this time: how?

Then, out of nowhere, the universe answers him.

You have been summoned, it says, but to where do you go?

Kaname immediately replies, only vaguely aware of where he is at the moment. There is a tree that he needs to get to. That is all he knows. He remembers mountains, a river, a lake. He remembers a special place he gave to the one he loved. But it is to the tree that he must go. He waits for me there, he explains.

That will be difficult, it murmurs. We are far from there. It will take time.

Kaname doesn't care. However long it takes, as long as he gets there.

Tell us who you are first, it demands, as it begins the task of putting Kaname back together. Tell us who summons you. Tell us why you return.

Kaname almost refuses, but the memories flood out of him without pause. He can hear the buzz of Zero and his brothers in the back of his head, can taste himself in their blood and see himself in Ryū's mind. All the memories they tell to Ryū, he tells to the waters. This, he says, trying his best to convey his need. This is who I am. These are the ones I return to. But then Kaname doesn't know what else to say. Why does he return? Because he longs to be with them again. Because he yearns to be reunited. Why else?

Is it not enough that they ask for me? he asks, when there is nothing more he can say. He has told them everything. He has spared nothing, of any of them. Is it not enough that I want to return?

You wanted to be forgotten, is what he is told, but before Kaname can think to panic, he finds himself hurtling through the water. But you were not.

Apparently it is enough, what he has said — what he has given. Enough to convince the moon to draw the tides up towards the shore. Enough to coax the sea to turn its currents in the other direction. Again and again, the water pushes him further up the river channel. He settles on the bottom of the riverbed, and after having been worn down into a fine dust, he passes through the rock and gravel of the riverbed and into the earth beneath.

It is there where he starts the practice of reaching for Zero's mind, of trying to tell him I'm coming. Wait for me. But it is difficult to penetrate a conscious mind. He waits for night to fall, and then he speaks to him.

He hurries onwards through the soil, and through the root system of the land around him, he makes his way up from the river towards the valley. There, he can sense that he is close to a loved one. He can sense them very close-by, somewhere beneath the ground. Needing to know who it is and why they are down there, Kaname summons the beetles and ants, and they take him to Takuma's land and bring him to a freshly dug grave. It startles him so badly. A grave. The thought of it, the possibility of who might be dead — he recoils, suddenly remembering that Zero stopped breathing that one time. Who is to say he didn't do it again, only this time —

This time —

The grief swallows him up, and suddenly Kaname can think of nothing else. He loses his grip on Ryū, loses his drive, and sinks and sinks and sinks lower into the ground.

He burrows deep into the rock and refuses to move. What is the point of coming back if he is dead? Without Zero, how will Ryū ever accept him? How will he know where he belongs? He wanted to return to all of them, but Zero is the heart of it all. The critters who brought him here skitter around him in a maelstrom, agitated by his distress. If he is dead, then what is the point? So profound is his sorrow that he cannot think clearly. Cannot think past the agony of losing him again.

But he isn't, a voice whispers, dragging him out of his despair. The tunnelling shrew pauses, seeming to consider who Kaname is. You spoke of a tree, it says. You said that he waits for you there.

But he is dead!

He is not.

How can you possibly know that? Kaname snarls. You lie.

But they are creatures. They cannot lie, which means that what they say must be the true, and Zero must be alive. He ponders briefly who the grave belongs to then, but the thought of Zero alive is more important. Show me, he commands, but he has dug himself too deep in the rock for any of the insects to reach him. The shrew scratches at the rock with its teeth till it bleeds. Kaname tastes it, and sees Zero walking around Takuma's gardens, helping him clear the flowerbeds for the winter. He grasps onto this, and his resolve comes back full force.

All the time he has been here, he has not been idling away. Whilst he was wallowing in grief his soul was remembering itself, and with the taste of blood, his powers come back to him. They rise upon his command, and come with a mighty roar. The ground cracks open then, rocks shifting in the earth and water surging upwards.

Take him, the water orders, calling upon its fastest swimmers to assemble. They pick him up off pebbles and rocks, carrying him in their mouths or coating their scales in his diamonds. To Zero's amusement, he can sense how delighted they are to be given this task, as if they are fully aware of the honour of bearing a King. It takes many schools of fish to make their way up the river, sort of like a relay race, with each one is swimming upstream against the current.

Eventually he makes it to the mountain-stream, and from here it is by the help of plants again that he climbs up the mountain. This time it is through the long-reaching roots of the trees that he finds himself rising up up up towards the sky. They carry him to an abandoned rose garden, and memories well up inside him. He emerges from the pond, drawn out of the soil when it freeze into ice. It is here where his pieces are assembled, where his body is knit together. It takes days for his body to be rebuilt, but when it is done he is cocooned by the a net of vines.

It is a reverse of what Zero did to him, and Zero sees that now — the vines blanket Kaname, holding him together for the last step of the process. Wait, the roses whisper, and Kaname wishes he could smell their sweet perfume. Not long now, they say reassurigly, and once the night passes. Then, when the sun shines upon the water, the garden gives up the last of their magic and Kaname is remade.

It takes him a while to reacquaint himself with hid body, but then he walks the last stretch of the journey. He reaches the edge of the orchard and is startled to find it filled with far more trees than the few he planted many decades ago. There is one tree though that he recognises instantly.

And it seems to remember him too.

My King, it greets him, drawing him closer into the heart of the orchard. This one is oldest. It has grown up well. My King, welcome home.

Home, Kaname thinks, placing a hand on the thick trunk. He leans back to gaze up at the glorious view of the blossoms in full bloom. I made it.

And that's how it happened. That's how he came back.

Zero doesn't open his eyes for a long time. It is a lot to take in. It should be more difficult for him to believe such an incredible story, but in fact it settles those doubts in his head, that he is imagining this. He could never imagine something like this.

"How long have you been back?" he asks, feeling Kaname press kisses to his eyelids.

"Not long." Kaname reaches up to touch the pendant resting on Zero's collarbone. "You brought the last of me here. Now I am complete."

The roses have only slightly started wilting. It can't have been that long then, but because there is magic involved it is impossible to say. Something about the way Kaname answers though rubs Zero the wrong way. Sifting through all that Kaname has shown him, one part sticks out to Zero: the time when Kaname thought him dead, and how he lost the will to hold onto Ryū.

He latched onto Ryū when he felt him fading, but that was years ago, back when Ryū was small. Kaname had clung onto him like a life-raft. He could not hold onto Zero directly because their bond was broken when he died. Through Ryū, however, he could. Using Zero's memories of himself, he could. His bond with Ryū was what leashed them together, and all of a sudden Zero remembers when he died at the end of the last War, and his bond with Kaname is what brought him back. Could this be the reason why he and Ryū have not aged? What saved Kaname from the brink also held Ryū back from moving forwards in life. It was literally like they were tied with a rope: with Kaname pulling one way, trying to drag himself out of death's clutches, Ryū got pulled along with him. And wherever Ryū went Zero went too, because of their bond.

Aidou told them he can tell that Ryū has grown — that because he doesn't see him as often, he can see it better than they can.

Goodness gracious. This whole thing was a tangled mess.

(But it got them here. It brought him back. Did Kaname know, when he placed the spell on him, that by feeding Ryū his blood, this would happen? Was it all part of the plan? How far back does it go? This is not what was supposed to happen, he'd said, but Katsuo and Wakana's child was an unexpected factor too. So was the universe deciding to intervene. So was many things.)

If Kaname let go of Ryū sometime during that period after he'd assumed Zero was dead. That means Ryū started ageing after Shiki was buried — a freshly dug grave — which was two years ago, and since then…

The earthquake happened last year.

Where and when did it happen? Around April, right?

It is early May.

"A year," Zero says, breaking away from Kaname to look up at his face. "You came back a year ago."

Kaname holds his gaze for as long as he can — but then, suddenly he cannot. His face twists, and Zero doesn't know how to interpret that expression. It makes him reach for him though, makes him grab onto Kaname and force him to meet his eyes.

"And you've been here all this time?"

There's no point in asking. He can read this answer in the tightness of Kaname's jaw, and the way he stops leaning into Zero's hands. It occurs to Zero then, how much time they spend waiting for each other. From lifetime to lifetime, from death to life and back again.

Maybe Kaname thought this time Zero wouldn't come.

Maybe this time he was too tired, too nervous, too ashamed to go looking for him. Scared of what he might find.

Sixteen years is not nothing, after all.

Zero looks away. He has to take a moment. For how many times they have waited for each other, for how many times they have found each other again, how can there be any doubts between them?

"I was waiting for you," he goes on to say, tracing the elegant silhouette of the tree with his eyes. "For what it's worth, this time I wasn't alone."

"That's good to know."

Zero nods, his turning slightly to peer at where Ryū lies sleeping. He is still smiling. It gives him the strength to wait in the silence, to find the words he needs to say next, and not worry that they will drive Kaname away. He is so fragile now, but Zero forges on ahead, trusting in Ryū's smile. Trusting in his pleasant dreams.

"You could have come," he says. "Why didn't you look for us?"

Kaname's head lowers at these words, and even without looking, Zero can imagine that his restless fingers are fiddling with one another as he fights the urge to walk off his agitation by pacing.

"I didn't think I had the right to. After all I have done to you, I thought perhaps you would not want me back."

Do not bring them any more pain, he had told himself. They do not need you anymore. You cannot hurt him if you do not exist —

Zero isn't angry. Part of him can understand Kaname's reasons for not coming to find them. He wanted to meet him at this tree. He set that as their meeting place. He told Zero through dreams where to find him, albeit in probably the most complicated message he could. He reached for Zero again and again and again. He thought Zero was dead. Then he came back, only to find he wasn't there, and for a year he waited.

"I don't blame you for that, Kaname. You have always punished yourself so much that no more needs to come from me." He smiles bitterly. "He takes after you in that regard."

"Sorry."

Zero looks away again, shaking his head. How can he make him understand? He has no need for sorry. What they have is something that has been centuries in the making. A product of years of strife, of shared struggles. Theirs was a union filled with doubts, arguments, and for the longest time it felt like two large heads insisting on the same space.

But Zero doesn't regret any of it. There were good times too — many of them even. So many that since he began remembering Kaname again, he has found a moment to miss for every hour of his days. Somehow in these sixteen years without having Kaname by his side, Zero feels like he understands him better than he ever did before.

"I always want you here," he says quietly. "You must know that. Why else would I ask you to come back? Why else would I have come here? I would have come, even if none of this had happened. I would have waited for you regardless. If there was never a chance of you coming back, it wouldn't have mattered. If you had needed more time, there were things that you needed done, then do them, but don't assume that that is the end of it for us. I will always wish for a life with you, Kaname. We have lasted, and we will continue to last."

He has not looked at Kaname for a while, so he doesn't know what expression the other has. He does, however, take one of his hands that is still twitching erratically. He wraps it up in his and pulls it to his chest, folding it between his hands, like some precious thing.

"Just remember that when you are done, don't hesitate to return. Even when you think the time has passed for it, and you have missed your chance, and you are convinced, surely, that my love has faded… even then, come to me. I have known you for so much of my life, and I have loved you for a good part of it too, whether or not you were there to receive it."

Finally, he meets Kaname's eyes, which seem to shine even more brightly in the shade of the tree. His mouth is slightly open, and he's no doubt lost for words. This isn't even the entirety of Zero's feelings for him, and yet it is more than he has ever confessed. Kaname looks like he doesn't know what to do now that he knows that his devotion to Zero is matched. He looks so baffled by it that Zero can't help but laugh, thinking about what he'd thought so many years ago.

Forever doesn't exist.

Nothing lasts.

He was such a fool to think so.

Some things are made to last.

"Were you planning on staying up here forever then?"

Knowing Kaname, it's entirely possible that he was.

Kaname dips his head again, and Zero's smile softens.

"You know you don't have to, right? You can come with us," he says, turning around and leaning back against Kaname's chest. His arms automatically wrap around Zero, and it is like stepping back in time. Tilting his head back on Kaname's shoulder, he studies his face, and follows his gaze towards Ryū, and it's as good an answer as he's ever seen. "We can finally be together, if you want."

"I… I do, but I…"

"What are you so afraid of? With what has happened and what we have become, it seems that we are now all as we should be. Time doesn't flow around us anymore, Kaname. We can be a part of it, finally. That means we have this one life, this one chance to be together, and we won't be left behind... what is it?"

Kaname doesn't look surprised by this. He must have come to he same conclusions. He does, however, look rather disturbed by what Zero has described.

He places his hands over Kaname's, rubbing his knuckles with his thumbs.

"Don't be scared. It is better to share one lifetime together and make every moment of it count. It is more than we've ever had before." With that, Zero steps away from the tree, out of Kaname's arms, and turns to him with a smile. "Life is only precious like this, so come," he says, beckoning towards him. "Give me your hand."

As he does so, the sunlight hits the back of his hand, and Zero almost gasps when he sees the lines that spread out all over Kaname's skin, like cracked ice. There are so many thin lines of pure white light that catch in the daylight, and show how Kaname was remade. Was this why Kaname stayed hidden under the tree? Was he afraid of showing Zero his scars? Just the thought of this makes him grab on tighter when his hand starts to tremble, and then the trembling stops.

It's now or never: their time has come.

And so their life begins again.

The sun is already setting when they leave, spilling its colours in the clouds and catching the blossoms aflame. They walk side-by-side, silent in the blurry, creeping dusk, watching the light sink behind the mountains.

Zero lets Kaname walk ahead, watching warmly as he carries Ryū with the greatest care. At the sight of them he is complete. The fact that everything has been leading to this moment, that everything has been leading them here is something Zero doesn't think he'll ever wrap his head around. It is over now.

As he follows them down the valley, he glances back at the mountains, which were the path that brought them here. From this angle, he realises that what he saw before is far more drastic a change to the landscape than he first appreciated. What he thought was a simple crack down the mountainside has in fact carved the mountain in two, and it dawns on Zero then, that in the time that they have been together this land has been reshaped. In the time they have been apart, these mountains have shifted, and now where there were two, there are three jagged peaks reaching up to the sky.

To think that such a thing has happened and he has seen it all, it really hits him how far their journey has taken them.

And how they have waited for so long.

And how they have lasted.

"The sacred king, the human embodiment of a dying and reviving god, was originally supposed to have been an individual chosen to rule for a time but whose fate was to suffer as a sacrifice. They would be offered back to the earth so that a new king could rule for a time in his stead. He would come into being in the spring, reign during the summer, and ritually die at harvest time, only to be reborn at the winter solstice to wax and rule again."

~ derived from Sir James George Frazer, "The Golden Bough"

Author's Note:

* This is an altered form of a quote by Euripides: "Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream."

** Soil liquefaction is when a saturated or partially saturated soil substantially loses strength and stiffness in response to an applied stress such as shaking during an earthquake or other sudden change in stress condition, in which material that is ordinarily a solid behaves like a liquid.

Thanks for reading!