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dawn-of-worlds · 2 years

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Away from death and towards the stars

(2 starting points, 3 for nonhoarding, 2 for conferring, roll of 2d6->3 = 10 total)

Haebarik drifts the seas for an indeterminate amount of time, still reeling from his vision of infinity. When he comes to at last, the first thing he registers is the large dark-red blotch on the moon; he's quite sure that wasn't there before.

This is puzzling. Haebarik had always considered the lights above to be merely idle decorations of the sky, their patterns of change too repetitive to be truly interesting. He hadn't thought of them as places with events, let alone events of such massive scale.

...but then again, why not? The idea that the world might be greater than anyone thought, that there may be realms further out still, that is core to his being. Once the notion occurs to Haebarik he accepts it, even embodies it, without issue. And if the realms above are true realms too, that means-

The god makes for the mainland, drawn by a vague sense of connection, his eyes wandering between the eastern horizon and the moon above. A feverish train of thought races through his mind as he paces through dunes and grasslands.

East connects to west; the birds told him as much. North and sound are Laneth both. Beneath those directions lies the earth, unexplored yet inevitably confined. But that still leaves a single course, a single bearing along which countless (perhaps infinite?) realms may lie.

The god comes to a lake on the western continent. It's no ordinary lake; iridescent colors dance above its surface, and it is encircled by a strange haze that no wind can disperse. The moon, as reflected in the lake, looks off; contrasts too sharp, shadows too cleanly delineated, the lake of blood pulsing like some great heart beneath its surface. Something beneath (within? between?) the lake is of the moon, somehow. The connection is ephemeral, but enough to work with.

Haebarik picks up a large boulder, aims carefully, and throws it into the air. Stone after stone he flings after it, stone after stone lands in the lake and sinks to its bottom. The moon's reflected image wavers and distorts, but never fades. This is the construction of a bridge, and while no physical bridge may stand on empty air, the idea of one needs no supports.

The sun is included in the work; its connections with the world and moon leveraged to create a strong triangle-shape; it shall remain unbroken even as its points shift through the skies. And at last, the bonds are forged, the components all built, now waiting only for their proper alignment.

Did those alignments occur before? Haebarik isn't sure. But a slight shift in the moon's orbit can't hurt, the occasional eclipse is a small price to pay for what he has constructed. Those are the things he tells himself as he watches the moon move to occlude the sun.

Light disappears in the middle of day, a shadow shrouded in white all that remains. The world becomes eerily dark and quiet. Invisible components, not wholly present in this world, find themselves linking up. The lake before him begins to boil, somehow now reflecting a brightly lit moon instead of the shadow above. Blood begins to bubble up, first intermixing with the lake's water, then replacing it entirely. The shimmering air becomes reflective too, showing the ring of light above, the moon, a somehow unimpeded sun, then collapsing back into swirling fog. A chill breeze picks up, even though the eclipse stilled all other winds; it carries fine gray dust onto the lakeshore. A low rumble slowly picks up, growing to near-deafening levels; the bridge groaning under its load?

And then it's over. The sun re-emerges from behind the moon, the birds resume song, the bridge-pieces move apart. What's left of the lake is a vast sanguine expanse, its shores dusty gray, its secrets unchanged and unmoved. Haebarik cannot see the moon, but he images a drop of life-bearing blue diffusing into the blood up there.

The bridge works. Its parts remain, intact but unaligned, ready to connect when the heavens are right once more. Already the god's mind races to imagine what he could build off of this: permanent doorways, connections to the sun itself, to further stars? There must be some means to distill this lakes' secrets, bring them elsewhere, use them to build further links. Or perhaps what he should create is a means of communication, birds that can fly through the void above, great flaming letters that may be seen from anoth-

His reverie is interrupted by Erland's messenger, which tells him of a great meeting, a meeting that shall herald in a new age. Haebarik the Bridge-Builder, god of space travel, eagerly accepts the invitation.

And twinkling on his black stone skin, like stars shining in the dark void of night, are now a thousand tiny gems.

Haebarik expends all 10 power to cause an Event, turning the lake on the western continent into the Lunar Bridge. When the lake experiences a total solar eclipse (say, once per turn, whenever it is narratively convenient), it swaps places with a small section of the lunar blood sea, taking its contents with it.

This has the initial effect of dumping a bunch of fish and algae and whatnot in the lunar blood lake (where the resource-rich environment should allow for enough to survive and adapt), while also replacing the much smaller earth lake with god-serpent blood (which I'm sure is fine and will have no bad consequences, because Haebarik loves to think things through).

#surprise we're not torturing haebarik today #he gets to have nice things #world 02547 diegesis

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envmart · 3 months

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The Essential Guide to Fine Bubble Disc Diffusers: Working and Benefits of Use

In the realm of wastewater treatment, the fine bubble disc diffuser is a critical component. It plays a significant role in aeration processes, ensuring efficient oxygen transfer and improving the overall treatment process. This blog will delve into the workings of the fine bubble disc diffuser and its numerous benefits. Whether you are a facility manager, engineer, or environmentalist, understanding this technology can help you make informed decisions for your projects.

What is a Fine Bubble Disc Diffuser?

A fine bubble disc diffuser is a device used in wastewater treatment plants to introduce air into the water. It creates fine bubbles, which increase the surface area for oxygen transfer, thereby enhancing the biological treatment process. These diffusers are known for their efficiency and reliability, making them a preferred choice in modern wastewater treatment systems. How Does a Fine Bubble Disc Diffuser Work? To grasp the importance of a fine bubble disc diffuser, it's essential to understand its operation. Here’s a step-by-step explanation of how this device works:

Air Supply: Compressed air is supplied to the diffuser system through a network of pipes.

Distribution: The air is evenly distributed through the diffuser membrane, which is designed with numerous tiny pores. Bubble Formation: As the air passes through these pores, it forms fine bubbles. The size of the bubbles is crucial; smaller bubbles provide a larger surface area for oxygen transfer. Oxygen Transfer: The fine bubbles rise through the water, transferring oxygen from the air to the water. This oxygen is then used by microorganisms to break down organic matter in the wastewater. Efficient Mixing: The rising bubbles create a mixing action, ensuring that oxygen is evenly distributed throughout the water column, enhancing the overall treatment efficiency.

Benefits of Using a Fine Bubble Disc Diffuser The fine bubble disc diffuser offers several advantages, making it an essential component in wastewater treatment systems: High Oxygen Transfer Efficiency: The small size of the bubbles produced by these diffusers ensures a large surface area for oxygen transfer, resulting in higher efficiency compared to coarse bubble diffusers. Energy Efficiency: Fine bubble disc diffusers require less energy to operate, leading to significant cost savings over time. Their design minimizes air resistance, reducing the power needed for air compression.

Improved Treatment Performance: By ensuring efficient oxygen distribution and mixing, these diffusers enhance the biological treatment process, leading to better water quality and higher treatment performance. Durability and Low Maintenance: Fine bubble disc diffusers are made from high-quality materials, ensuring durability and long service life. They require minimal maintenance, reducing downtime and operational costs. Versatility: These diffusers can be used in various types of aeration tanks and are suitable for different stages of the wastewater treatment process, making them a versatile choice for facility managers. Fine Bubble Diffuser Specifications When selecting a fine bubble disc diffuser, it's important to consider its specifications to ensure it meets your specific needs. Here are some key specifications to look for: Membrane Material: The membrane should be made from durable materials such as EPDM or silicone, which resist fouling and chemical degradation. Bubble Size: The diffuser should produce bubbles in the range of 1-3 mm for optimal oxygen transfer efficiency. Air Flow Rate: The diffuser should be capable of handling the required airflow rate for your system. Operating Temperature: Ensure the diffuser can operate within the temperature range of your wastewater treatment process. Mounting Options: Look for diffusers with flexible mounting options to suit different tank configurations. Fine Bubble Disc Diffuser Price The price of fine bubble disc diffusers can vary based on several factors, including size, material, and manufacturer. Investing in high-quality diffusers may have a higher upfront cost but will offer long-term benefits in terms of efficiency, durability, and reduced maintenance costs. To get the best value for your investment, consider the total cost of ownership rather than just the initial purchase price.

Applications of Fine Bubble Disc Diffusers Fine bubble disc diffusers are widely used in various applications due to their efficiency and versatility: Municipal Wastewater Treatment: They are commonly used in municipal wastewater treatment plants to enhance the biological treatment process. Industrial Wastewater Treatment: Industries such as food processing, pharmaceuticals, and chemicals use these diffusers to treat their wastewater before discharge. Aquaculture: In aquaculture, fine bubble disc diffusers help maintain optimal oxygen levels in fish ponds and tanks, promoting healthy fish growth. Agriculture: These diffusers are also used in agricultural settings for treating wastewater from livestock operations. Conclusion Fine bubble disc diffusers are a vital component in modern wastewater treatment systems. Their ability to efficiently transfer oxygen, reduce energy consumption, and improve treatment performance makes them an excellent choice for various applications. By understanding how these diffusers work and recognizing their benefits, you can make informed decisions for your wastewater treatment projects.

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aldiansyahhefram · 10 months

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Fine Bubble Diffuser adalah alat yang digunakan dalam pengolahan air limbah untuk memperkenalkan gelembung udara ke dalam air secara efisien. Gelembung halusnya memiliki luas permukaan yang besar, meningkatkan transfer oksigen ke air dan mendukung pertumbuhan mikroorganisme baik. Ini membantu meningkatkan proses aerobik dalam pengolahan air limbah, memastikan efisiensi optimal dalam penghilangan zat organik dan meminimalkan dampak negatif pada lingkungan.

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heframagungbs · 1 year

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Aerator Fine Bubble-0813-3535-3290

Aerator Fine Bubble adalah jenis sistem aerasi yang digunakan dalam proses pengolahan air dan pengolahan air limbah. Ini dirancang untuk memasukkan sejumlah besar gelembung udara kecil ke dalam air atau air limbah, yang meningkatkan efisiensi transfer oksigen dan meningkatkan pencampuran dan sirkulasi.

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putrihefram · 1 year

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Bubble Diffuser Uses Hub 0813-3535-3290

Proses aerasi terutama bertujuan untuk meningkatkan konsentrasi oksigen. Peningkatan konsentrasi oksigen di dalam air ini akan memberikan berbagai manfaat. Pada aerasi secara difusi, sejumlah udara dialirkan ke dalam air melalui diffuser.

Anda bisa mendapatkan di :

PT HEFRAM ASASTA INDONESIA

Alamat : Jl. Raya Cikaret komplek ruko Salsabila no 77, Pabuaran, kec. Cibinong, kabupaten Bogor, Jawa barat 16915

Dapat menghubungi admin kami : Telepon : 02183722169 WhatsApp : http://wa.me/6281335353290

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#Diffuser #diffuserdotera #Co2Diffuser #diffusermurah #finebubble

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airoxitube · 2 years

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A simple way to reduce cost in shrimp culture

Current international shrimp prices are quite low, due to many factors. Import restrictions from China, low cost export of shrimp to USA from South American countries like Ecuador, etc. Moreover cost of feed and labour has increased drastically over the last couple of years, while selling price has reduced drastically. Both these are causing enormous pressure of cost reduction on the aquaculture farmer, especially the shrimp farmer.

As a farmer, you don’t have control on the selling price of shrimp which is largely dependent on international prices and decided by processing units.

However you can control the input costs.

The 3 largest input costs for a shrimp farm are:

- Cost of feed

- Cost of seed

- Cost of aeration

Good quality feed and good quality seed cannot be compromised. However the cost of aeration can be reduced to a large extent – by almost 60% - if proper equipment is used. Diffused aeration is very often found to be 3 times more energy efficient than paddle wheel aerators.

Most large fish and shrimp farms use paddle wheel or similar surface aeration methods. Such aerators spend almost 75% of their energy in moving the water, rather than aeration. They are really water movement devices, although one calls them aerators.

Artificial aeration is efficient only when the surface area available for interaction between the air and water is high, and the time of contact is long. With paddle wheel aerators, the drops of water are quite big – almost 5 to 20 mm big. And the splash down in a very short time.

Compared to this, diffused aeration provides very fine micro bubbles in the water using highly efficient airoxi tube and blowers. The bubbles are about 1 mm in diameter. And they further breakdown into even finer bubbles in salt water used for shrimp culture. In fact the floc in the ponds and nurseries increases the efficiency of aeration, so diffused aeration using blowers and aeration tube increases in efficiency as the culture time increases.

A comparative table of efficiency is given below. As you can see – blower and airoxi tube / aeration tube diffused aeration is highly efficient and the high SOTR (Standard Oxygen Transfer Rate) is almost 3 times that of paddle wheel aerator. This makes the SAE (Standard Aeration Efficiency) very high and translates into saving of electricity cost of almost 60%.

And this is after considering that you use the paddle aerators to move water – but only 1 hour x 4 times a day.

To ensure a good balance, use the paddle wheels only as water moving equipment, and not for aeration. Let the blower and aeration tubes give you the required aeration.

You can even calculate your aeration requirement for your shrimp nursery or shrimp farm using the online aeration calculator on www.airoxi.com/calculator

Comparative performance of AirOxi TM Products v/s Paddle Aerator

(Comparison based on market feedback from customers)

Parameter AirOxi TM Tube with piping and blower Paddle Aerator

Type of aeration - Fine Bubble Diffusion (1mm and less), Mechanical and surface , through droplets (20 mm)

Numbers required per Hectare - 250 mtr / 5 HP blower and piping, 8 nos x 2 HP each

Total Power required / hectare for average stocking density - 5 HP, 16 HP

Biomass supported / HP - 1000 Kg per HP, 350 Kg per HP

Approximate Initial Cost - 1.5 to 1.8 lacs (blower, piping, AirOxi Tube, etc), 2.40 lac (30,000/- x 8 nos)

DO – Kg / Hour / HP - 3.6 Kg / HP / hour, 1.2 Kg – 1.4 Kg / HP / hour

Average DO levels observed in similar conditions - Day time – 8.5 to 9.0 /

Night – 5.0 to 6.0, Day time – 7 to 7.5 / Night – 4.0 to 5.0

Time taken for same increase in DO (SOTR - Standard Oxygen Transfer Rate) - 20 minutes, 60 minutes

Power Cost (considering industrial power at 7/- per unit) – operating 20 hours a day, for 3 months use in a season.

For AirOxi tube – we are also considering 1 HP x 4 nos of paddle aerator for water circulation - 47,250/- for Oxygenation, 3,780/- for Water movement (2 hours) Total – 51,030/-, 1,51,200/-

Stocking Density possible because of high DO - High to very high, Low to medium

Noise Levels - Very low, High

Operate during feeding time - Yes, No

Moving parts and maintenance - Very Low, High

#airoxitube airoxi airoxidiffuser airoxiproducts aquarium aquaculture fishing fishingfarm shrimp shrimptank fishtank tank RAS aeration aerati

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tricktster · 4 years

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I'm pretty new at aquariums and I don't have a c02 system set up and I don't think my petco was even selling it? Am I doing something wrong? If so, where can I get one???? I don't want to hurt my fish!

GREAT NEWS: YOU ARE NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG AND YOU ARE NOT HURTING YOUR FISH.

Sorry this is going to be long but I love nerding out.

I probably should have just explained this when I posted the picture of my setup, but carbon dioxide injection is fully not necessary for the VAST majority of tanks, because it is specifically not there to help the fish at all - it’s for plants.

The fact of the matter is that it’s super hard to get those beautiful, lush planted tanks like this:

...without supplementing carbon dioxide. The same rules apply for aquarium plants as terrestrial plants: they covert light, water and carbon dioxide into chemical energy through photosynthesis, and then use that chemical energy and nutrients to fuel their growth, creating oxygen as a byproduct. The tricky thing is that there just isn’t a ton of carbon dioxide available underwater. Obviously, plants manage to grow underwater all the time, since some co2 will diffuse through the water when the surface is agitated (like if there’s a current, or waves, or a waterfall etc), and as long as there’s adequate sunlight and nutrients, that can be enough for plants to grow. In fact, there are plenty of aquarium plants that do just fine without co2 supplementation, like java ferns or most mosses. You can basically just chuck them in the tank and forget about them. They’ll take care of themselves.

The reason that java ferns and mosses don’t need supplemental co2 is that they have evolved to be able to grow - slowly - in places where there isn’t a lot of sunlight or carbon dioxide that reaches them. However, other plants (like dwarf hairgrass or dwarf baby tears) evolved in conditions that permitted them to grow -quickly - only with a lot of light and a great deal of available carbon dioxide. I mention hairgrass and dwarf baby tears because they’re some of the most popular plants in the aquarium hobby due to their ability to form dense carpets, which are pretty:

(dwarf hairgrass)

(dwarf baby tears)

These plants are also really popular because they’re small and resemble common terrestrial plants, which allows people to create visual illusions that make their tanks seem much bigger and more like terrestrial landscapes, like this one made by John Pini:

(notice the co2 system hanging on the side, which is almost certainly not the actual setup that he uses on this tank - Fluval sponsored the aquascaping contest he won with this). It looks like this tank has pheonix moss, maybe one of the liverwort mosses??, monte carlo (the small leafed plants), and some type of mini bucephalandra (the slightly larger leafed plants), which will actually all grow... okay? without supplemented co2, but not with the density that’s captured here. For reference, here’s the same piece of monte carlo that’s been kicking around in my low tech (i.e. no co2) shrimp tank for months (in front of the Plagiomnium affine my snails keep digging up):

and here is what happened to the single piece of leftover Monte Carlo that I stuck in Darkmantle’s high tech (co2 injected) tank at the same time, if you can make it out under all that hairgrass:

So explosive plant growth is really the big benefit in injecting co2 in a planted aquarium, with a major side-benefit of algae control. When algae shows up in your tank, it’s because there is either too much light or too many nutrients (generally this is biological waste from livestock) in the tank for your plants to be able to use. If the plants aren’t using that excess growing energy up because they’re limited by the amount of carbon dioxide in the water, algae, which has much lower requirements for co2 than complex multicellular structures like plants, will happily take advantage of the excess light and nutrients. But if your balance of light, co2, and nutrients are correct, algae can’t get a foothold because your plants will be taking all that available energy first.

For people who want to try out running a high tech tank, there’s a variety of ways to do it. On a very basic level, all you need is 1) a source of carbon dioxide, and 2, a way to get it into the water. At the very lowest price point, there’s DIY systems like this one that rely on chemical interactions (usually citric acid and baking soda or sometimes yeast) to generate CO2, which is then forced through airline tubing into a diffuser (usually a ceramic disk that breaks up big bubbles of co2 into lots of little bubbles) inside the tank. There’s a few problems with this system: the chemical reactions are really hard to keep going at a stable level that doesn’t result in huge spikes in the amount of co2 being emitted, or, alternatively, the pressure building up in the bottles won’t be enough to actually go through the airline.

Because DIY co2 is finicky (and cleaning can be a pain in the ass) a lot of people, including me, like using pressurized co2 systems. The problem is that there’s not a ton of commercial products that are really adequate for the job that don’t cost a ridiculous amount. While you can certainly drop $600 on a professional system, most people, for obvious reasons, don’t want to do that. Instead, they might try out a system like the little kit Fluval sells, which I mentioned almost certainly was not used in creating that award winning aquascape:

Why do I feel so confident that it wasn’t used? Well, because it kind of sucks. See, an important thing that I didn’t mention is that there is absolutely such a thing as too much co2 in a tank with any animals in it. Animals, you know, need oxygen. Co2 is their output product. Put too much co2 in a tank, and it’ll be exactly the same result as if there is too much co2 and not enough oxygen in a sealed environment that you’re in: death promptly ensues. So when we add co2 to an aquarium, we want to do so in a very measured way that permits the plants to get enough without impacting our livestock at all. There’s a bunch of different things you can use to make sure you’re doing that right, like drop checkers, which contain a chemical that changes color based on the amount of co2 in the water, or bubble counters, which allow you to visually monitor how much of an invisible gas is going into the tank, but the most important thing to stress here is that the amount of co2 that is safe to use when the plants are actively photosynthesizing is NOT the same amount that is safe to have in the tank when the lights are off. Here, the knob on that little kit depicted above is the ONLY way to turn the co2 on or off, or to vary how much is going into the tank, and frankly, that’s a terrible system. The rate of release is not steady, so you have to constantly fiddle with it, and of course you need to remember to manually turn the damn thing on and off every day, which is a pain in the ass. Also, that co2 canister is TINY and it’s not refillable, so you’ll spend hundreds in replacement cartridges before you know it.

The 600 dollar professional kits I’ve mentioned have built in ways to counter those issues, but like I said, nobody wants to drop 600 bucks. The good thing is that you can cobble something together that does the same exact thing as a professional system for a fraction of the cost. All you need is 1. a regulator with a solenoid; and 2. a refillable paintball co2 tank. The regulator is the most important piece of equipment - it’s what allows you to adjust the amount of co2 that goes into the system, and it needs to be reliable. Luckily, there are some GREAT regulators on Amazon in the 60-70 dollar range that are incredibly reliable and come with a solenoid - that’s a magnetic valve that is ONLY open when it’s plugged in. The upshot is that if you use a timer plug or a smart plug, you can just automate when your co2 runs so that it’s only going at the same time as your lights. Then... just go to a sporting goods store, get your paintball tank filled, screw the regulator on, run some tubing into a cheap ceramic diffuser in your tank, and boom, you’ve saved 500 bucks for an extremely effective and easy to use kit that gives you professional results.

Or... you can just not be like me, save yourself the time, money, and energy, and JUST GROW FUCKING JAVA FERNS INSTEAD, TST, YOU PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE.

#Anonymous

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chipsandcoffee · 4 years

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Whouffaldi Fanfic

“You Sound Like a Song”

Post-Hell-Bent, fix-it of sorts, memory loss, confessions, angst, romance, eternal love, s10 spoilers, canon compliant (well technically at least), cameo appearance by Bill Potts

Also on AO3 at this link.

______________

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. But that was all he knew.

The list of things the Doctor didn't know about Clara was so much longer and went so much deeper, prodding away at him from a restless corner of his mind. What was she like? What had they meant to each other? Why would he have wiped the memory of her from his mind? And the one question that troubled him most: what had happened to her?

He ruminated on these questions yet again as he slumped in a leather armchair in his office at St. Luke's University, absent-mindedly strumming his guitar. He often felt a sense of melancholy on these solitary nights. Nothing was sad until it was over, he thought. Then everything was.

He had spent a long time trying to look for Clara (being stuck on Earth for a number of years hadn’t stopped him, for he was based where she was most likely to be). Of course he didn't know who he was looking for (hadn't someone told him that once?), but he believed he would know her if he met her again, and she would surely know him. But it had never happened. And he’d never heard a word from her.

He'd eventually reached the most logical and painful conclusion: she was dead. She'd likely been dead all along, even before he’d erased her from his memory (he could tell he’d used a neural block, could feel the sensation of a hole in his mind where something ought to be). Maybe that was why he'd taken the drastic step of eliminating those memories in the first place: her death had simply been too painful for him to bear.

He obviously had no idea how Clara had died, but he had the painful feeling that it had somehow been his fault. Hers was probably another life cut tragically short because of him, just like too many other people he’d been close to.

Indeed, he’d experienced more than his fair share of loss over his long life, and the last few decades had certainly been no exception. River had gone to her inevitable death shortly before he’d arrived in Bristol (at least by his timeline). He’d also very nearly presided over the execution of Missy before rescuing his oldest friend and bringing her to St. Luke’s. But for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, the very idea of Clara being dead made his hearts ache in a way nothing else did. Perhaps more than anything else ever had.

It was strange grieving for someone he didn’t remember. His grief after losing River had made sense to him, and he’d been able to move on from it (even if Nardole, devoted to River as always, continued to assume that any sign of sorrow from the Doctor was connected to his late wife). But he had a vague, shapeless sense of loss deep in his bones that he knew, he just knew, was the grief he was still carrying for Clara. He obsessed over the unknown and unknowable details of her life, their life, and her presumed death.

His grief frequently bubbled up to the surface when he played his guitar. In fact, as he sat there in the shadows of his office, he realized that he'd once again started playing a variation of a song from long ago that he knew was called “Clara.” Bill was always curious about that tune, but he'd never told her its true title. How would he begin to explain the story behind it when he didn’t understand it himself?

The Doctor suddenly recalled with regret that he’d been rather curt with Bill earlier that day when she'd teased him that that particular song was the only one he knew how to play. He thought maybe he should say something to her by way of apology when he saw her again. He also knew he was rubbish at such conversations, so he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and fished out the stack of dog-eared index cards that he relied on for such occasions. He'd had them for many years, each card a neatly-written sentence that he could use in tricky social situations (which for him was most social situations). One of his companions had probably made them for him at some point, but he couldn't remember who. He liked to imagine they came from Clara, that he still had something tangible left of her that he carried with him. He wondered if she would have liked that.

The Doctor put his guitar aside, ran his hand down his face, and started pacing around his office. All this brooding wasn't doing him any good. He needed a distraction. He paused, fingers drumming on his desk, as his eyes fell on his TARDIS parked in the corner following his last outing with Bill. He'd been thinking recently that the timeship’s interface stabilizer could use an upgrade; that would keep him busy for a while. But he’d need to get his hands on a few parts first. He considered his options.

His favourite place to get spare parts for the TARDIS was at a marketplace on the planet Haligonia. Of course Nardole would give him grief if he found out that the Doctor had travelled off world, but Nardole was currently occupied with tinkering with the locks on the vault deep under St. Luke’s and likely would be for a while. The Doctor could be gone and back before Nardole knew he’d left. He rubbed his hands together, his decision made. He pushed open the TARDIS doors.

A few minutes later, the Doctor was strolling through the bustling marketplace on 48th-century Haligonia. The planet was a human colony, but the well-known market attracted shoppers of a variety of species from all over the galaxy. It was a warm, sunny day, and the breeze carried smells of local street foods as he made his way past vendors selling everything from the latest tech gadgets to exotic jewellery to flowers of every possible colour.

Soon enough he spotted the parts dealer’s stall. As he approached it he noticed there was a rather spirited conversation going on between the tall, burly dealer and a petite young woman. The customer was dark-haired and wore a black leather jacket with a well-worn satchel slung over her shoulder. Her clear voice stood out over the din of the market, and as the Doctor walked up behind her, he could hear her haggling over the price of something.

“Come on, this would've cost less when it was new than what you’re asking for it now.”

The dealer folded his arms. “Yeah, well life’s not fair, lady. And if you can find it new somewhere else, feel free to buy it there.”

“Fine,” she said nonchalantly, “I will then.” The woman spun around and began striding off, nearly walking into the Doctor.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him. She did a double take and suddenly froze, staring at him, her strikingly large eyes becoming impossibly larger. She stood stock still for a long moment. “Doctor,” she breathed.

He peered down at her, knitting his eyebrows and squinting slightly. “Have we met?”

“Yeah, yeah we've met,” she said faintly, sounding dazed. She continued to stare at him, and now her eyes were starting to look distinctly watery.

The Doctor became increasingly concerned that this stranger might inexplicably burst into tears right in front of him, a prospect that he found rather frightening. He reached into his pocket for his social cue cards in a desperate attempt to find something to say that might diffuse whatever was happening.

He found one of his frequently-used cards, and recited, “I apologize for not recognizing you. I am a time traveller and I sometimes meet people out of order.”

The woman tore her eyes away from the Doctor's face to look at what he was holding. However, much to the Doctor's horror the card had only made things worse, as she had clasped her hand over her mouth and a tear trickled down her face.

“I, um,” he spluttered, his arms flailing.

The woman suddenly seemed to snap out of her emotional state and darted her eyes around the marketplace, as though searching for an escape route. “I'm um, I'm so sorry,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to smile. “Have a good day.” And with that she turned and strode away without a backwards glance.

The Doctor felt somewhat relieved that this problematic encounter appeared to have resolved itself. But he also felt responsible for upsetting this person, and he found himself chasing after her through the crowd of shoppers.

“You there,” he said, starting to catch up to her. “Are you okay?”

He thought she must not have heard him, because she kept on walking. But then she came to a sudden halt, and the Doctor had to stop himself from running into her from behind. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned around, her face somehow conveying trepidation and relief at the same time. The Doctor was baffled how she managed to do that.

The woman heaved a long sigh. “I am so sick of hiding from you.” The Doctor frowned as she stepped towards him, the crowd swirling around them. “The reason I recognize you but you don't recognize me isn't because of time travel. It's because you’ve forgotten me.” She paused for a second and wiped away a tear. “You, um, you chose to forget me.”

The Doctor felt as though his hearts had stopped and that all the blood had drained from his face. His mouth fell slightly open. Some distant part of his brain thought he must look like he'd seen a ghost. To him he had.

“Clara,” he whispered. It wasn't a question. He knew somehow, he was certain who she was.

“Yeah,” she whispered in return, gazing into his eyes.

“You're not dead,” he blurted out, immediately realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

“Yeah,” she frowned. “Why? Have you remembered--”

“I haven't remembered anything. I'd just… guessed. That-- that you were dead.”

Clara looked into the Doctor’s eyes and he immediately felt like she could see into his soul, into every lonely, hopeless night he’d spent grieving for her. Her face grew concerned.

“Oh, Doctor.” She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, and the Doctor surprised himself by not flinching under her touch. “I think we should talk.”

______________

A few minutes later, the Doctor found himself incredibly, miraculously sitting with Clara at a small table in the corner of a quiet cafe on a back street near the marketplace, a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of each of them. They sat in silence at first as they stole glances at one another and tried to figure out how to navigate this strange situation.

“I like your coat,” Clara started, nodding at the blue-lined black velvet jacket he'd favoured of late.

“Oh, um, thanks.” He felt himself blushing. He wasn't used to people saying that sort of thing to him. Another moment passed and he asked, “How did you travel here?”

“In my TARDIS,” she answered easily, as though that were something that humans did all the time.

“What?” He was flabbergasted. “You have a TARDIS? How?”

Clara sighed. “Oh, this is going to be a very long story, Doctor.”

Several cups of tea later, Clara had told the Doctor the story of their final days together: the raven on Trap Street, the Doctor pulling Clara from her time stream on Gallifrey (which partly explained the vague memories he’d had of being trapped for a very long time in his confession dial), and her escape in a stolen TARDIS (oddly with the immortal woman Ashildr).

Once Clara had finished her story, the Doctor sat in stunned silence, attempting to make sense of it all, of the extreme lengths he'd gone to for Clara. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he’d actually plucked this woman from her time stream right before her death. And here she sat, still time-looped. Still, in essence, alive.

“You know how to fly a TARDIS?” It probably wasn’t the most important question, but it’s the one that popped out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” she laughed, her eyes twinkling, and the Doctor thought her laugh was perhaps the loveliest thing he’d ever heard. “I picked up a thing or two in the years we travelled together.”

The Doctor was impressed. “So how long has it been for you since you last saw me?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure anymore. A while back I stopped keeping track of how long it’d been. It was--” She paused, lowering her eyes, a hint of pain crossing her face. She cleared her throat, met his eye again and continued, “I figured that was for the best. But I guess it must be close to a hundred years now.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly. "I think it's almost exactly the same for me."

The corners of Clara's mouth quirked up. "Yeah, that's just the way things seem to go with us. We've always been… connected, somehow.”

“What have you been doing all that time?”

“Oh you know, flying about a bit, watching the odd star being born, saving the odd planet.”

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh at Clara's jokingly casual tone, and he marvelled to himself at this amazing woman. But there was an important issue that Clara hadn’t yet explained.

“So why don’t I remember you, Clara? Based on the type of amnesia that I experienced, I’m guessing that I used a neural block of some sort?”

Clara’s face turned serious and she glanced down.

“Um, yeah, you did.” She gave a puzzled frown. “It's weird though, I saw you shortly after the neural block, and you seemed to remember a bit more than you do now. At least some of what had happened on Gallifrey.”

“Ah, well it's not uncommon in the early stages following a neural block to be left with some disjointed shards of memories. Over time, if the brain can't process those fragments, they're forgotten. It's sort of like forgetting a dream shortly after awakening.”

“Right, okay.”

The Doctor searched her face. “Clara, why did I use a neural block to forget you?”

Clara looked upwards as if searching for inspiration on how to respond to the Doctor’s question, tears threatening in her eyes again. She took a deep breath.

“It wasn't meant to be you, not at first.”

“What do you mean?”

“You, um, you were going to use the neural block on me. You thought I'd be safer from the Time Lords if I didn't remember you.”

The Doctor frowned in confusion. “So what happened?”

Clara lowered her eyes. “I used your sonic sunglasses to reverse the polarity on the neural blocker when you weren't looking.”

“You what?”

“I didn't want it to go off on you, I just didn't want you to use it on me.” She began to raise her voice while a tear spilled down her face. “I didn't want you to use it at all, I told you what I'd done!”

Her voice broke and she paused, catching her breath and wiping her face. The Doctor felt a rush of sympathy and heartache for her. He realized that as difficult as it had been for him to live with his missing memories, Clara had suffered too, in a different way: she'd had to carry around the weight of everything they'd been through, while he had been blissfully ignorant.

Clara continued, speaking more quickly as she got through the rest of her story. “So. You didn't know at that point what would happen when the button on the blocker was pressed. That's when you suggested that we both press the button together, knowing that one of us would forget the other, but not knowing which one. Better than flipping a coin, you said.” Clara dropped her gaze and her voice fell to nearly a whisper. “And I guess you kind of lost the coin toss.”

The Doctor watched Clara for a moment, her head bowed. Then he found himself leaning forward and placing his hand on hers. Clara looked up at him, surprised at the contact.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For everything, I guess. For forgetting you. For trying to make you forget me. I'm sorry that you feel bad about what happened with my memories, because it wasn't your fault, Clara. We knew the risks and we pressed that button together.”

She squeezed his hand, a hint of relief on her face.

“You didn't say why I thought one of us needed to forget the other,” the Doctor continued. “But I think I'm starting to understand. Everything I did, the confession dial, the extraction chamber, my plan to hide you away and make you forget me.” The Doctor felt his hearts stirring as he now wrapped Clara's hand in both of his. “I think I would have torn the sky apart for you, Clara Oswald. And I think I knew that.”

A sad smile crossed Clara's face. “And I would have done the same for you.”

The Doctor and Clara gazed silently at each other, her small hand wrapped in his two, lost in the universe that was each other's eyes.

After a while Clara swallowed, leaned forward, and spoke in a quiet voice. “Doctor, there's one more thing I still haven't told you. When you and I were on Gallifrey, we sat together in the Cloisters, and I told you something important, something I'd never told you before.” Clara took her free hand and laid it on top of his, her eyes round and sparkling. “I told you that I loved you. That I'd always loved you and I always would, and that I wished I'd told you a long time ago. That maybe if I had, things would have turned out differently.”

The Doctor had been surprised by many things Clara had told him that day, but somehow her declaration of love wasn't one of them. He’d known it, felt it, from the moment he'd met her in the market outside.

“And how did I respond?” he whispered, scarcely breathing.

Clara gave another sad smile and shook her head. “You didn't. That was the moment you got the service hatch open and, well, we had to keep running.”

“Ah,” was all he could think of to say.

“Yeah. We’ve had a lot of bad timing, you and me.”

As if to emphasize the point, the cafe owner at that moment walked by their table and turned off the “open” sign in the window, pointedly clearing his throat as he did so.The Doctor glanced around and realized that he and Clara had been alone in the cafe for quite some time.

“I think we’re being kicked out,” Clara whispered loudly, her eyes twinkling.

“Looks like it,” the Doctor replied with a crooked grin.

Outside, the Haligonian night had fallen, and the streets were nearly empty. The planet's two champagne-coloured moons shone overhead, and the air felt damp and cool after the warmth of the day. The Doctor and Clara wandered together through the town for a while, swapping tales of adventures and wild escapes, their bursts of laughter ringing through the stillness of the evening. The streets and laneways they walked eventually gave way to a green, park-like area on the edge of town where the scent of blossoming trees drifted through the night air. The Doctor wished they could keep walking forever, but as his TARDIS came into view in the moonlight, he was reminded that their magical day had to come to an end.

They walked together across the dewy grass and stopped near his blue box, standing in an uncertain silence, the only sound a nocturnal bird calling in the distance. Clara finally spoke. “So what happens now? Me and you, what do we do now?” The hint of tears glistening in her eyes told the Doctor that she probably already knew the answer.

“Oh, Clara. I don't even need my memories to know that there’s nothing in this universe I’d like more than to travel with you again. But I said today that I would have torn the sky apart for you all those years ago, and I know in my hearts I still would. And that you’d still do the same for me.”

He took a step closer to her. “Everything you’ve told me, everything I can see and feel now tells me that we were amazing together. But also that we were dangerous. And I don't think there’s any way to stop that from happening again, because of who we are, and because of--” He paused and took a deep breath. “And because of how we feel about each other.”

Clara looked down and nodded, a tear falling to the ground. “Yeah,” she whispered.

The Doctor tenderly placed his hand on Clara’s cheek, and she looked up at him. Clara had told him so much that day. Now there was something he felt he had to tell her, something that was burning within him. He wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by again, not this time.

“Clara, I never got the chance to respond to you in the Cloisters, and I know a lot of time has passed since then and I’ve forgotten so much. But I know, I’m certain of one thing. I loved you, Clara Oswald. I loved you-- I love you with both my hearts. And I always will.”

Clara smiled up at him, even as another tear rolled down her cheek. The Doctor wiped away the tear with his thumb, feeling dizzy with the emotions swirling inside him. He found himself slowly leaning towards her, feeling a pull as irresistible and inevitable as gravity, as Clara ran her hand up his arm. Their lips met in a soft, heartfelt kiss. To the Doctor it felt surprisingly natural, right, perfect. It felt like the long-awaited conclusion to a conversation begun 100 years ago.

The Doctor stepped back and took Clara's hand as he stood there smiling softly at her, warmth and contentment infusing his body. She smiled back at him, all dimples and shiny eyes.

“I’m really glad I got to see you, Doctor.”

“I’m really glad I got to see you too, Clara Oswald.”

But his smile faltered as the reality of his situation sunk in. Clara frowned.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?”

He released her hand and sighed. “My neural block, Clara. I don’t know what'll happen when I leave tonight. Seeing you today, talking to you, learning all about you, about us. I don’t want to forget any of it, not again. But my brain has blocked my memories of you for a very long time, and I'm afraid it'll do it again.”

Clara’s face was filled with concern. “There must be something we can do.”

He shook his head and half-shrugged his shoulders.

Clara’s eyes lit up. “Hang on, I have an idea.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and opened her satchel. After some rummaging around, she pulled out a small cardboard box and opened it. “I carry these around with me. They still come in handy for all kinds of things.”

______________

Bill started packing up her things as the day’s tutorial with the Doctor wrapped up.

The Doctor was sitting behind his massive desk, continuing to flip through the book they'd been discussing. “And don’t forget that your research paper on laser-cooled ions is due tomorrow.”

Bill rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good.” The Doctor tried to look stern, but he had a feeling he wasn’t quite pulling it off. Tossing aside the book, he stood and picked up his guitar from the chair where he'd left it, wandering around his office as he played the song that he now knew was named for the woman he loved.

Bill paused as she walked towards the door. “Don't think I've heard that version before. It's, I dunno, cheerier.”

The Doctor smiled to himself. “Good night, Bill.”

“‘Night, Doctor. See ya tomorrow.”

Now alone, the Doctor played for a while longer before setting his guitar down. He relaxed into his favourite armchair and reflected on how different things were for him since his trip to Haligonia a few weeks earlier. He could still remember much of his wondrous encounter with Clara, though some of the details were growing hazy, almost as though the whole thing had been a dream. Sometimes he thought maybe it had been a dream. But whenever that unsettling feeling arose, he would do as he did now. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small stack of index cards. Some were old and dog-eared, but some were new. All of them had the same neat handwriting, and now he knew whose handwriting it was.

He picked out the new cards. The one on top read, “Clara is alive and doing well. She wants you to be happy.” He gave a contented sigh. The next two were his favourites.

“Clara loves you. She always has and always will.”

“You told Clara that you love her, and she will always cherish that.”

He smiled even as his eyes felt wet with tears (perhaps he was malfunctioning). He gazed at the cards for a long time, his fingers running lightly over the words.

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. He knew she was still out there, exploring the universe. He knew they'd loved each other deeply and truly, and they always would.

He also knew that nothing was sad until it was over. And he and Clara would never be over. Not in his hearts, not ever.

______________

Thank you for reading! This is my first fic and any feedback would be very welcome and appreciated!

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haziqhefram · 11 months

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redroseinsanity · 5 years

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Ōmagatoki - Day 6

@daisugaweek2019 | Day 6 - Fashion/History

Chapters: 6/7

Summary: In the Kamakura period, a fallen samurai undertakes a journey to pray for the mountain god’s mercy as a famine threatens his people, but instead meets an enchanting tree spirit. Daichi knows that the kodama is possibly the most dangerous being he has ever encountered, and yet, he falls.

—

“What if I told you that there’s a price to pay for saving your people?”

“What kind of price?”

“A sacrifice.”

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Daichi’s legs jerked into a half step, wooden and uncoordinated as his heart lurched ahead of him, pulling onward to where Suga was.

It took another clumsy jolt before Daichi was tumbling over himself, cursing his bad leg as he discarded his last tool in the grass and ran.

Or tried to at least. The months of building and plowing had made him stronger than ever, but an old wound was still a wound. He began with a trot, then throwing dignity to the wind along with all reason, broke into a slightly unbalanced jog that favoured his injured leg. Around him, workers carried on, eager to finish and get home, uncaring that their young lord had decided to take his leave in an urgent manner or if he had simply lost it and sprung for the hills.

Only a handful raised their heads to watch as the third son raced across the plantation grounds, sunlight bouncing off gleaming, sweaty, tan skin, and Daichi, breathless more with the anticipation than the exertion, drew close to a smiling Suga.

He could see the faint summer breeze ruffle light hair and even without that distinctive trait, he would know the figure anywhere, would recognise the tilt of that head, the glow of that smile.

And he watched, aghast, in the last several strides that would have taken him there, as the wind collected all those features in a gentle gust. Feeling the back of his throat close up, Daichi arrived just as the silhouette fragmented into a flurry of leaves and petals that were cycled upward and away.

Thrusting a desperate hand upward, his fingers closed on nothing more than air and a single, pale pink petal.

—

“He’s in danger."

Daichi spun in a circle, struggling to locate the voice that tickled at the back of his mind.

"He’s in danger and so are you.”

The fog thinned enough for Daichi to orient himself and he found himself somewhere resembling the clearing that he had last seen Suga in, all those months ago.

Stepping out of the mist-like shroud, the speaker looked immaculately divine and yet, the slightest bit worn.

“Tooru?” Daichi squinted. Tooru seemed to throw a disdainful glance over before promenading over to the edges of the cliff, almost disappearing from sight.

“You both are fools. I’m only trying you because that imbecile is not heeding my words,” Tooru appeared to grow in height and presence. The sense of power that diffused from him threatened to overwhelm and drown Daichi, “The mountain god will discover what he has done for you and then you will both suffer his wrath. It is only a matter of time.”

As Tooru vanished into the mist, Daichi started forward, mouth open with questions overflowing and woke with a jerk, hand stretched above him as though still reaching for the dream figure that he sought.

He buried his face in his hands, only looking up when something fell from his hair, shaken loose by his movement. Illuminated by the moonlight, a limp leaf, yellowing at the edges sat in his palm.

Keep reading on AO3 or after the cut

Light. Although the evening was drawing near, the colourful lanterns and lamps that lined the streets fended off the edges of twilight. The village was awash with colour and cheer, with a smorgasbord of food and a myriad of activities laid out.

At Daichi’s behest, the village was holding a festival for the summer equinox and to give further thanks to that which had given their crops life.

With the Sawamuras’ backing, their people had gone all out and there were tables of summer snacks being sold, games to be played and small handcrafted wares for purchase. It had been a day of rest and preparation, and it showed in the liveliness of the atmosphere, with laughter filling the air and the shouts of children ringing out occasionally.

Daichi strolled along the fringes of the festive area, hardly registering the scene other than the muffled noise that it emanated. He had done his checks earlier in the day and was satisfied with it, leaving his family to make their own rounds and bask in the ambience.

Beside him, the rich, sweet aroma of roasting chestnuts and sweet potatoes wafted from where several were being grilled. Inhaling deeply, Daichi reminded himself that he should be focused on living here, that it would make no sense to dwell on what had happened in the mountainside, that he needed to gather himself in order to keep going. Toward what?

Painfully, the way it is to pry a scab from a cut that has not yet healed, Daichi wrested his thoughts away from Suga and stepped decisively into a bustling lane, finding a faint smile on his lips as laughter infused the air and bright chatter followed.

He nodded to a few farmhands who were now manning a game stall and awkwardly waved off another’s attempts to push free wine on him. Chuckling, he extracted himself and then held back a step as two children dodged past him, shrieking in glee.

Looking up, the world slowed as his gaze foundered on the very person he had just firmly put aside. There, in the middle of the alley, resplendent and with those smiling hazel eyes, was Suga.

Time seemed to trickle around Daichi as he took the other in, emotions brawling within, demanding to be felt. Though normally clad in pale green, tonight’s Suga was in robes of the most exquisite blue, ornate and far too extravagant for even someone of Daichi’s standing to own.

Daichi straightened, a samurai’s excellent posture taking over as he pulled shoulders back and lifted his chin. Then he walked directly past the spirit, holding his breath and waiting, waiting, waiting for the instant that Suga would crumble to nothing but flora.

He was prepared this time, had braced himself with disappointment in the set of his brows and the press of his lips. He was, however, not at all prepared for a hand to shoot out and clasp his wrist, loose in its grasp but warm and real.

Staring at where Suga’s hand had to be underneath the sleeves of Daichi’s hitatare, he traced it to its owner, dumbfounded and reeling.

“Do you not know me?” Suga asked, as gentle as a leaf settling on the surface of water with the barest ripple.

Daichi faltered as his feelings staged a revolution, tearing down his reason and engulfing him with the staggering desire to reach for Suga and pull him into an embrace, to hold him and talk him out of disappearing again, to beg for him not to go somewhere Daichi could not follow.

“Are you real?” Daichi wheezed, “If you are not, I implore you not to give me any more false hope.”

Suga’s eyes softened infinitesimally before he pulled closer and ran a single finger down the line of Daichi’s jaw.

“Real enough for you?” He teased as Daichi’s entire body flared.

“What-” Daichi stopped to clear his throat and tried again, “What are you doing here?”

“You vowed that we would meet again,” Suga’s eyes were dancing, “All I’m doing is making sure that you do not break your promise.”

Haven’t I been seeing you? Daichi wanted to ask.

“It feels as though every day that I do not keep that promise is torture. Have you been punishing me? Or is being apart from you simply that painful?” Was what came out instead.

Suga stared at him, surprise lifting his brows and the beginnings of delight tugging at his lips while Daichi fought the urge to exile his tongue for being so brutally honest.

Belatedly, he remembered where they were and he glanced around with some concern.

“Are you- Can they see you? How are you here?” He asked, suddenly struck by the possibility that people might see the young Sawamura talking to himself on a busy street.

“Only those who want to,” Suga replied, waving to a small boy who shyly bowed back as his mother led the way toward a pottery stall.

Up close, Daichi could see the elaborate design of Suga’s outfit even in the dying rays of the sunset. Rich blue shot with silver that highlighted his ethereal features and emphasised his moonlit hair. The material itself was soft and clearly high in caliber, sighing every time Suga took a step and falling over his lean frame just right.

Just as those around him, Daichi included, had put on their best clothes for the festival, Daichi had the hunch that Suga had come for a specific purpose but exactly what, he failed to fathom. Questions bubbled to Daichi’s lips and clung there, on the verge of falling out.

“Are you here for the festival?” He blurted, then felt like hitting himself because surely a kodama had more important things than a measly human festival to think about.

To his surprise, Suga grinned, instantly putting all of the festival’s beautiful decorations to shame.

“Show me around?”

So he did. Watched as Suga’s eyes teared and then went enraptured as he tasted a spicy specialty of his town, one that made Daichi’s entire mouth burn. He trailed behind a fascinated Suga as the kodama made it a point to touch all the handicrafts they passed, eyes wide and wondering as he marvelled at the tiny figurines detailed with fine touches and the soft woven mats.

They stopped for quite a while to watch an elder do elegant strokes of calligraphy with absolute control and grace. Initially, Daichi had assumed that Suga was intrigued by the writing aspect, however, the kodama had carefully rubbed a part of the parchment between thumb and forefinger before nodding pensively and walking away.

The villagers were thrilled that Daichi came by to play a few games, gathering round to cheer him on as he tried his hand at things that he hadn’t played since he was a child. But with Suga beside him, excited and starry-eyed, it was reminiscent of Daichi’s most carefree days. So intent was he on committing every single charmed expression on Suga’s face to memory that he missed the whispered gossip of the villagers who had never seen this Sawamura smile so much in a long time.

By late evening, they had wandered far from the village, munching on candied nuts and sweet plums as they settled beneath a wide tree at the base of the mountain, resting in the undrawn border between Suga’s home and Daichi’s. There, Daichi imagined that if he tried hard enough, he could believe that they were suspended in a timeless frame, some liminal space that allowed him to stay here with Suga indefinitely.

Under the cover of darkness, Daichi found the courage to pose the question he had withheld earlier.

“This robe,” He hedged, “Is it special? I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

“I suppose it’s special because we assign it meaning,” Suga hummed, “Now it is special because I have worn it to see you.”

“Oh, you- I meant-” Daichi flailed, not expecting such a frank and yet, convoluted response, “It seems to be of excellent quality,” He finished weakly.

“Oh, it is,” In the shadows, Suga’s entire demeanour turned mischievous as he began undoing his obi, “Would you like to try it on?”

Daichi’s hands flew to catch Suga’s, making a rough estimate in the dark and colliding with cool knuckles and incredibly soft fabric.

“No! No, it’s fine,” He yelped, as Suga cackled. Suga’s robes whispered as he shifted closer, so close that Daichi felt the warm exhalation of the other when he spoke.

“Are you afraid of what you’ll find underneath?”

“I will never be afraid of you,” Daichi told him honestly, “I only fear myself, for I cannot trust myself when I’m around you.”

The hand that was in Daichi’s slipped from his grasp to cup his cheek as Suga leaned in and fit his lips flush against Daichi’s. For a beat, Daichi’s mind struggled to comprehend, to react, and then he was sweeping an arm out and cradling Suga to him in a bundle of silky material and pliant warmth.

Daichi had known, had told Suga, that he had scarce control over himself around the kodama, but he was still surprised by his own boldness when he was the one to deepen the kiss, nipping at soft lips to elicit a gasp from Suga, his fingers taking the liberty to run through hair he knew looked like liquid silver.

Suga’s other hand took a path across his chest, over a broad shoulder to graze over Daichi’s neck and there it rested, nails gently scraping the sensitive skin at the nape of Daichi’s neck as he reciprocated, lips moving in ways that had Daichi’s head spinning. He planted kisses down the length of Suga’s neck, savouring the cedar perfumed smoothness as he worshipped every exposed bit of skin until he got to a delicate collarbone. Resting his forehead against Suga’s shoulder, he nosed along the line of bone before summoning what was left of his restraint. Then, leaving a small kiss where he stopped, he tugged Suga’s stunning robes back into place, fingers lingering a little too long at times, but eventually managing to restore a semblance of order to the rumpled kodama.

“Look,” Suga breathed, still folded into Daichi, the two tangled in a mess of coloured cloth and heated skin.

A firefly had lit up near them, and as if by signal, tens of tiny floating lights appeared as Daichi gazed up in awe. The fireflies hovered and moved in steady patterns, filling the immediate area with a soft iridescence and giving the pair’s faces a luminescent quality.

Slowly, reluctantly, Suga pulled away, releasing Daichi and drawing a deep breath.

“The light from the fireflies will be sufficient for you to find your way home,” His hand stroked Daichi’s face before retreating into wide sleeves, “You should go now. Go.”

There was a measure of insistence in Suga’s tone had Daichi on his feet before he could stop himself, and yet, he could not bring himself to go.

“Will I see you again?” He asked, a desperate note finding its way into his voice.

“Only if you promise to,” Though it was the same answer he had given all those months ago, Suga didn’t sound as certain as before, his pitch low and wavering.

“Then I do,” Daichi swore, steady and hopeful, still giddy from the rush of how intoxicating Suga was. With one last glance back, he headed for home, his feet taking him in one direction while every fibre of his being yearned to go in another.

About thirty paces away, he halted, heart thudding and the feel of Suga’s lips still a phantom weight on his. Then he whirled, tearing through the forest in the way he came from, feet moving faster than ever and still not fast enough.

He skidded to a stop in front of the tree that he had left Suga, a few straggling fireflies floating about.

But Suga was gone.

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