and when you go, don't return to me, my love

chapter one - the fraud.

     Kazuha's eyes burned. Whether it was the wind blowing relentlessly against them, or the thought of what could have been, in that moment, he felt nothing but contempt for his condition. Only one word could be used to describe his state; pitiful. 

     The crash of thunder on the mountain before him was relentless. It was a mocking, terrible laughter, a storm from the Shogun herself. Lightning and thunder without the accompanying rain was terrible. It could split mountains and make the wind cease blowing, because at least when it rained, there was a constant pattern. Rain was something you could rely on to be continuous. Thunder and lightning alone were erratic, unpredictable, and full of a vengeful rage. This rage, however, was not that of mother nature, it was an outlet for Her eternal fury.

     Kazuha used to find these rainless storms a spectacle, something incredible to be praised. Even in these conditions, it was truly and boldly divine. He hated that he didn't have only hatred in his heart for Her Divinity, but the pooling tears in his eyes at the thought of Her said enough. Every time he heard those cracks of lighting and rumbling thunder, his mind replayed his friend's death, and on days like these, he felt as if it were a broken record. 

     Yet, he continued toward the mountain, moving ever forward. It's what Tomo would have wanted, he thought. 

     Those types of thoughts were always bittersweet, because at the end, did Tomo ever consider what Kazuha wanted? He had given up his life to see the Musou no Hitotachi in action, and although it was brave, and valiant, and a heroic act, he couldn't help but hate him for it. Some days, he could care less what Tomo would have wanted for him, because he had made his decision and left Kazuha behind. It was selfish of him to have these thoughts, and he knew it. But, wasn't Tomo selfish too? He didn't have good intentions. He knew how his story would end, all that "challenging the Shogun" nonsense was merely a façade to see her power. 

     It pained him to think such terrible things about someone he loved so much. Truly, Tomo wanted to challenge the Shogun to make a stance, to let everyone see how unrelenting and cruel eternity could be, but he knew he wouldn't live. It was practically suicide. Kazuha wanted to remember him as the picture of revolution, the martyr for the resistance. He wanted Tomo to die a hero. 

     Yet, somewhere deep in his heart, he was resentful. He still had so many things left to say to him, they still had so much left to do. 

     At the end of the day, though, Kazuha blamed himself. Every night he thought of what he could have done to prevent it. They could have braved the lightning's glow together, became the picture of resistance that he wanted so desperately for them to be. 

     Together, they had a chance.

     Together, they would have lived.

     By the time he was at the foot of the mountain, the sound of thunder had drowned out his resentment. Then, he saw it; up in the distance. A person, it seemed.

     Kazuha would know this silhouette at the end of the world. 

     Their face was scarred in the same places as Tomo's was, and they wore the same tattered red and black kimono that Tomo always swore he'd replace when he got the mora. Their hair was tied up messily with fringe nearly covering their eyes completely, just like he always had. They sat on a rock, seemingly watching the lightning storm above. They looked so at ease, just like Tomo always was when thunderstorms happened.

     In that moment, time seemed to have stopped. All the sounds of the storm ceased, as if someone had muted them with the click of a button. He stood like a deer in headlights, petrified in place.

     Kazuha's heart was in his throat. He felt like he was going to vomit. A million thoughts raced through his head all at once. He wanted to believe that it was truly Tomo, he did, but somehow at the same time that thought made him sick to his stomach. The hole in his heart that Tomo once filled became ever more gaping in the time that he was gone, and he thought if he were to be back, that it would be filled again. However, the presence of this person, this being, this thing before him only felt like a knife to the chest. It existed to taunt him, to pick at his seams, to gnaw on his numb body until the sound of his own mutilation irritated him enough to put a stop to it. 

     But when it caught sight of him, it's eyes didn't go dark like some science fiction creature. It didn't draw a weapon and slice him to ribbons. In fact, it's eyes lit up. Tears welled up in this horrific creatures eyes, and it stood. 

     It opened its mouth to speak, but the words were lost to a crash of thunder. When Kazuha stood still, frozen in his place, it gestured for him to follow it. Then, it started up the path of the mountain.

     He couldn't follow it, but he couldn't bear to turn around. If he chose to run towards it, he would collapse in the arms of this wretched puppet. He had so much to say to it, and there was still so much they could do. He didn't care if it was fake, he had pined for a moment like this for years. For so long, he wanted nothing more than to just do the domestic tasks they used to love. He wanted to pick dendrobiums and naku weeds and drop them into the sea, like they always did before. They said they wanted the plants to be able to bring Inazuman beauty to somewhere that they could prosper, and Kazuha always secretly hoped that they, too, would take root in another place, where they could live peacefully. 

     If he chose to turn away, he would never have to think about this interaction again. He could chalk it up to a hallucination of grief, and continue on his healing process. To stop now, to put all the tears, all the self-hatred, and all the rage he felt to waste would be frivolous. He didn't want his feelings to be for nothing, but he could never move on if he held onto it all for the sake of not letting it go to waste. 

    So, he reluctantly followed.