HYDRANGEAS

© 2020; panravenc.

Chapter V

Fantasy

Believe it or not, Sabito's actually not that reckless.

Usually, that is.

What he's doing now—well. It could be labelled as reckless. Probably.

(Makomo thinks he has lost his mind. Seriously, she has screamed these past days more than she has in years.)

(That's his sister for you, though. Always a sweetheart.)

"Look, I'm going—there's no discussion about it," he'd said.

Makomo had made a frustrated sound. "He's dying, accept it already!" She'd spat.

And no. No, because his father couldn't be dying. He was just sick. He only needed a cure.

"And he wouldn't be if it wasn't for me! So if I have to enter the forest—" which they'd been told to never, ever, do. "—in search for that damned flower the witch wants, then I sure as hell will do it!"

And that had been that.

So now he's in the forest.

In the cursed forest.

In search of a flower—which may or may not exist—that the town's healer, lovingly denominated witch by the oldest sibling of the Urokodaki's, needs for the remedy that will heal his father.

(Because Sabito had been down with a cold for a couple of days and so his father had gone in his stead to the neighbouring village to sell their craft.)

(When he'd returned ill from the trip, Sabito had known it had been his fault.)

Sabito is sixteen summers old. Sixteen. He's a grown-up. He's a man. The forest doesn't scare him one bit.

No. Nuh-uh.

Not at all.

(Okay, maybe it does.)

The flowers that the witch wants grow near a river, he's been told, in a clearing past a waterfall.

Which doesn't make sense at all? It isn't like there's a map of the freaking forest or someone to ask around for a river.

But he's determined. He will find the flowers.

Somehow.

Passing a hand through his hair, he sighs. He's been in the forest for hours. "This is going nowhere," he mutters to himself.

He's seen a couple of animals, but otherwise, he doesn't understand why the forest's been labelled as cursed.

It isn't like there's a dragon here or something.

(Ha, ha. Impossible. That's impossible. Right? Right.)

Three hours later is when the murmur of a river reaches his ears. It's getting late, the sun already on his descend, and Sabito hopes to the seven gods above that he finds the flowers before the night settles in.

And that he can find his way back home. Because honestly, he's been marking the trees the best he can, but the likelihood of seeing a difference in the tree bark when the moon is up in the sky is lower than he'd like.

Advancing through the forest, he follows the sound of the river as well as he can. Finally, though, he reaches it.

It's beautiful—but Sabito doesn't have time for that. Staring in the direction the water comes from, he breaks into a sprint. For all that he's tired, the prospect of finding the flowers of doom—he's named them, yes—gets energy running through his body like nothing else before.

Please, please, please, let the waterfall be close.

He's still running—only having stopped to hunt some fish and eat some of the berries he's brought from the village—when the sunlight stops filtering through the trees and the dark of the night becomes apparent.

He's wounded. He has scratches all over his body, and he's tired, and he's on some impossible mission on a last hope to cure his father because if he and his siblings have to lose Sakonji he wants it to be when he's old and grey and not because he couldn't get out of bed for two miserable days.

So he keeps running.

It feels like an eternity when he finally sees the waterfall.

According to Shinobu—the witch in question—there should be a clearing right after it.

With trepidation—because Sabito's not reckless, not that much—he puts his feet on the cold water and starts walking towards it. By the time he's a few meters besides the waterfall, he's swimming. He's wet. He's drenched.

But at least he's there.

As expected—yes, really—there's a path that leads to somewhere behind the cascade.

Sabito breathes in and out.

This is it.

(Or so he hopes.)

(He really, really hopes.)

The path isn't long. It's dark, though, and it may be a bit scary.

Just a bit.

Really.

When he sees light at the end, he runs.

"Holy—"

There's a clearing, bathed by moonlight, with dozens upon dozens of those goddamned flowers and a stream surrounding it.

It's fucking beautiful.

A chilly breeze makes its way towards him and he shivers—his clothes are still dripping, and he has to admit, the temperature's not ideal for the impromptu bath he's taken.

He grins, unrestrained, once he steps out of his stupor.

Dad's gonna live.

He wastes no time and begins to collect a few of them—the witch only said she needed a few, so Sabito guesses that eight or so will be enough.

"What are you doing?"

He screams.

(Sabito, later, will forever deny it.)

He turns around, only to see the most gorgeous being he's ever seen.

Pale skin, snow-like, with his hair waving around with the help of a breeze Sabito doesn't feel, stands a man just a few meters away from him.

And—wow.

Sabito's never been one for men, he'll admit—women are just prettier—but there's no denying the beauty in front of him.

"I—what?"

The man makes an annoyed expression. "What are you doing?"

"Uh—" and, look, if Sabito's brain is still not functioning, just blame the holy being that has appeared out of nowhere. "—collecting flowers?"

The beauty's brows furrow. "No."

"Yes?"

"No."

At his forceful tone, Sabito returns to reality. No matter how gorgeous the man may be, he's on a mission. "Look, I don't know who you are, but I need these, okay?"

"They're mine," the man nearly snarls. Water from the stream starts to rise, and it's only now that Sabito sees that the man is standing on the water.

Wow.

Um.

Okay.

So, maybe not a dragon. But still something.

Cool.

(Sabito's totally not cool with this new development.)

(Fucking witch.)

"I—" he attempts. "Father's sick. And, and the witch said this was the medicine, okay? I don't, didn't know they were yours, but I need them, and I will pay you, if that's what you want—"

Okay, so maybe Sabito has panicked a little bit.

The angry expression on the man's face disappears. Not that the ginger notices it, what with his ramblings.

"What will you give me?" The man interrupts.

Sabito blinks at him owlishly. "Give you?" He repeats, dumbfounded.

"If I give you these flowers," he specifies. "What will you give me?"

And look, here's the thing: this man is obviously some kind of spirit. You never make deals with spirits.

Sabito knows this rule.

He also knows this is the only chance he has of saving his father.

So.

"What do you want?" He asks.

The man's—can Sabito call him that?—features shift to something more open and curious. "Are you willing?" To make a deal with me?

Cautious, Sabito looks at him. "If you let me return with the flowers in tow for my father to live," he responds, a condition to whatever deal he's agreeing to.

A few seconds pass before the man talks again.

"Give me your name," your soul, he doesn't say. "And the promise of your presence before the night of the next quarter of this lunar cycle."

Sabito knows what it will mean if he gives this man, this spirit, his name.

Everyone knows what happens when you willingly give a spirit your name.

(You won't return, some say. You'll be bound, you'll be cursed, and you won't belong to God ever again—)

"If I give you my name," my soul, gets heard anyways. "Will you give me yours?"

(But if they give you one back, you might just survive. For it will mean a promise, and it will mean forever.)

The man seems to think about it, though his face remains impassible.

"I will."

"And if I give you the promise, will I be able to return to the village after this moon cycle?"

Giving your name means giving your soul.

Giving your promise means chains around your throat.

"Once per clear moon," is the answer he's given.

And, well, Sabito's not that reckless, not really, but—

"Bless these flowers and you have a deal."

(A spirit's blessing, his mind whispers, will save your father and your siblings.)

(Because spirit blessings last, and if Makomo or his other siblings fall ill, they'll heal.)

The man's eyes light up and a tiny smile makes its way onto the stone-cold face he's been wearing the whole time. With a move of his arm, the flowers on Sabito's hands glow.

(Sabito has to will himself not to melt because even though it's completely inappropriate in this situation, this man is beautiful, completely mesmerising, a work of art, magic itself—)

"My name," he starts, the words coming out slow. "Is Sabito."

When the spirit smiles, Sabito doesn't know if he's sold his soul to an angel or to the devil itself, but he will gladly stay and find out if he can see it one more time.

"Giyuu," he responds. "My given name is Giyuu."

The deal is done.

Sabito grins despite himself. "Nice to meet you, Giyuu." The name rolls of his tongue and he tastes it, not wanting to let go of the sudden rush of adrenaline that has gone through his body.

"Go," the spirit says.

Sabito wastes no time and sprints towards the exit.

The voice of the spirit—Giyuu—follows him through the way back home. And remember, you only have until next quarter.

Seven days is what he has before he has to honour the promise.

It's enough to say his goodbyes, enough to see if his father will survive, enough to leave instructions for Tanjiro to take care of Makomo and the rest of their siblings.

Looking at the moon, the village suddenly in his vision range, Sabito breathes in and out.

Seven days.

(Giyuu can't wait. A companion. For the first time in three hundred years, he breaks out in a grin.)

(When Shinobu visits the next day, she smiles in that irritating way, as if waiting for him to thank her.)

("He's delectable, isn't he?" She says, mouth full of teeth.)

(Witch, he thinks fondly. "He is.")