#still thinking abt growing out my hair or buzz it even though i’ve already decided on the half-buzz thing where the top is Long and the

[oversharer-that-overshares]

I think the thing that bugs me the most about going from LONG hair to short/half buzzcut (i forgot the name) is that i can’t convince myself that tying it up will make me feel less hot (temperature)

[villainscomplex]

First Love / Late Spring

now who let me get away with falling three days behind on asanoya week yike

anyway @asanoyaweek21 day 2, mythology, made my own myth abt the seasons, pretend i'm not sleep deprived and this is the most eloquent a/n you've ever read ty 

(no but fr this tested how well I REALLY knew how the hell seasons worked)

Also on:

AO3

Wattpad

FFNet

Quotev

----------------------------------------------------------- In the beginning, the story goes, there is nothingness. The world is empty and lifeless, composed only of dirt and rock and fire and ice. There’s no history in this world because there’s no one there to record it, and maybe there never was. At first, there’s only the world and the silence. 

The universe takes some sort of interest in this world. It’s inhabitable, suitable to become something greater than what it was made to be. It sends a being made of a thousand suns and starlight, and when that being touches down, grass sprouts beneath his feet. He is made of warmth and brilliance, of all the light the universe thought to offer him. When he walks, life blooms around him, taking the form of arching trees and brilliant flowers.

He is called Summer, and he is the beginning of everything. 

In the beginning, it’s only Summer, a being barely held together at the seams with no vessel to contain him. He’s merely a concept, a breath of air racing across the earth and leaving beauty in its wake. But even a being as infinitely existing as Summer was not all-powerful, and his warmth couldn’t reach all recesses of the world. 

On the other side of the world, a being was born from the earth. He is made of ice and all of the cold the dirt has to offer, composed of darkness and a promise. Winter is born from the ground, and where he walks, the world dies. Their worlds collide, and on the border of that balance, two more beings come to be. 

One appears in a spark of brilliant, golden light, wreathed in warmth gentler than Summer’s. His laughter brings new beginnings, and with him come young animals, deer, foxes, and birds sprouting from the enormity of his being. He is Spring, and his arrival sparks a new cycle of life in the world. 

The other being is slower, more hesitant. He doesn’t appear as quickly as the others, as if he’s already prepared to leave the world he’s only just come into. He unfolds himself slowly, not warm like Summer or Spring, but not quite cold like Winter. He brings hesitance with him, curiosity, and melancholy. His arrival is the beginning of endings, and they call him Autumn. 

The four of them create a cycle; Summer flows into Autumn into Winter into Spring. Summer never meets Winter and Autumn never meets Spring, for the fear of any disastrous consequences for the meeting of the opposite. From this cycle comes balance, and from balance comes life. 

Humanity is a gift from the universe. Summer looks upon them like his young siblings, though they know little of him, they relish in his warmth. He gives them laughter and fun, heat and nourishment. He finds enjoyment in watching them, even as they grow and change. 

But all things came to an end, and like their cycles, humans grew and changed and eventually died. Sometimes, Summer is there to witness it. He watches them go beneath the sun, and he is silent when their loved ones mourn. Sometimes, he’s sleeping, in the wake of Autumn taking what half had been his for the quarter of the year. 

It’s Spring who comes up with the idea to take their form. 

When Summer awakens to take Spring’s place, Spring swirls around him. 

“We could take the form of humans and take their names! That way, we can walk among them and teach them to care for themselves and our world. I know they aren’t endless like us, but I’ve heard them tell stories. They’ll pass everything on and we can admire them up close!”

Summer thinks it’s brilliant. Spring is naive, but he was the one to create the animals and humans had taken to them. He watches before his eyes as Spring shrinks and condenses, his unperceivable form wavering and adjusting until it settles into a short, humanoid shape. When the light sinks away, Spring stands before him as a boy with wild orange hair, eyes as warm and brown as the freshly melted earth. He holds his arms out wide, and light flows from his very being, coating him in luminance. 

“I haven’t decided on a name,” Spring tells him, “but when I do, I’ll tell you! I’ll talk to Winter, too, but you’ll have to handle Autumn. I’ve heard he’s elusive, isn’t he?”

Spring knows little about Autumn, just as Summer knows little about Winter. They never meet, and the cycles will never allow them to, but Spring seems content either way. He’s curious about Autumn, so he’s heard from Summer and Winter, but even they know little about the elusive season of endings. 

Summer nods. “I haven’t met him properly,” he admits. “He always creeps in when I’ve already gone to rest.”

“Weird,” Spring huffs, more expressive now with his human features. “Well, I’ll tell Winter then when I go to take his place next cycle. See you next time!”

Spring bounds away with flowers in his wake, leaving Summer to wonder about Autumn as his warmth fills the world. 

It doesn’t matter now. Winter is taking Autumn’s place, and Summer won’t see anything of him until it’s his turn on this side of the world. Perhaps he’ll have the chance to run into Autumn for once, but he gets the feeling Autumn doesn’t want to be found. Summer doesn’t understand why, but the fourth season is quiet and withdrawn, seldom interacting with them more than he needs to.

Summer stops thinking about Autumn when he begins to cross his half of the world, bringing the earth into full bloom. As he runs, he begins to shape and change, a broad grin coming to his features as he takes on a human form. Summer takes the stardust and light he’s made of and compresses it into an impossibly small form, shorter even than Spring’s new form, and his amber eyes streak with golden light. 

Summer takes the form of a dark-haired boy, electric gold streaked through the front of his bangs. He’s small and unassuming for someone as infinite as him, radiating warmth and energy and life. Everything within him buzzes to go, and so he does, spending his time among the people, bringing them joy and life.

Though he looks like one of them now, there’s still something otherworldly about him, and some people call him a god. They’re not sure of what, but they know he brings only good for them, and the sunlight itself is drawn to every fiber of his being. It dapples his hair and flares off of his skin like a golden glow. 

Summer knows nothing of names, and so when they ask, he only smiles. 

Though regretful, his time on this side comes to an end. He feels the slow chill creep in as Autumn awakes, though he doesn’t know from where. His warmth wants to combat it, and Summer is eager to try, but for now, he withdraws it into himself. He can’t linger long, but perhaps a little extra time wouldn’t hurt. He’s painfully curious, and Summer is nothing if not stubborn. 

Autumn is quiet when he comes. Summer watches the leaves brown and wither with his arrival, and the life around them grows lethargic and somber. This is the beginning of endings for some. He hasn’t seen Autumn all the way through, but he’s heard enough from the humans to understand what happens. 

Autumn startles when he realizes Summer hasn’t departed yet. He withdraws immediately, fleeing into the trees. The leaves begin to turn colorful shades of browns and reds and golds, and Summer almost wants to stop to admire them, but he’s hot on Autumn’s heels. 

The other entity swirls into the trees, and Summer forgoes his human form to catch up. 

“Wait!” He gasps out, crash landing in a clearing and rolling onto the forest floor, condensed back into his human shape. 

Autumn hesitates, just behind the treeline. He doesn’t emerge, but Summer knows he’s there.

“You always run from us,” Summer frowns. “But I don’t know why. Do you not want to know us?”

“It’s for the best,” Autumn speaks up, voice soft. 

“Huh?” Summer frowns. “That’s stupid. Shouldn’t we talk sometimes if you’re always taking my place?” 

Autumn withdraws a bit. “...Why do you look like a human?” He finally asks.

Summer grins. “Spring thought of it. He thinks we’ll be able to help better this way. It’s hard to maintain this form, but I like it. I haven’t thought of a human name yet. What do you think?”

Autumn creeps along the trees. Summer watches the one he touches lose its leaves. He seems reluctant.

“I’m okay this way,” he finally says. “They wouldn’t like me. Everything starts to die when I come around and I see the way it makes them unhappy. I’m different from you.” 

“That’s stupid,” Summer frowns, moving forward.

Autumn starts. Before Summer can think to follow, he’s vanished into the distance. Summer frowns after the other season, but it’s time for him to move on. Autumn is strange to him, fickle and hesitant. Summer doesn’t understand him, but perhaps he isn’t meant to. 

Either way, it’s time for him to move on. For now, he’ll rest. Soon, he’ll go to take Spring’s place in their never-ending cycle. He glances back in the wake of Autumn, and then turns his gaze forward and moves on. 

The next time he sees Spring, his appearance has changed a bit. He’s still the small, orange-haired boy, but now freckles blossom across his face and he’s filled his form. He beams when he sees Summer. 

“I talked to Winter,” he tells him, “and he said he’d think about it. I’ll convince him next time I see him, for sure!” 

“Better than me,” Summer sighs, “I got two words in towards Autumn before he ran away. It’s so strange.”

Spring reaches out, patting him on the back. It’s a strange feeling. They’re capable of touch in their natural forms, but it’s so abstract that Summer has never given much thought to it. It’s different in these forms, more physical and grounding. He doesn’t hate it. 

“I thought of a name,” Spring tells him. “Or, well. Winter thought of it, but I like it!”

“Yeah?” Summer tips his head. “What is it?”

“Shoyo!” Spring announces, throwing his arms up. “It fits, I think!”

“Shoyo,” Summer echoes. 

He’s right; it does fit. It sounds right for Spring, fitting in a way that only self-picked titles are. Summer voices his agreement, and Spring - Shoyo - bids him farewell, speeding off into the distance. Now it’s Summer’s turn on this side of the world, the issue of a name weighing heavily on his mind. He doesn’t see Autumn again this cycle. 

The other season comes late to avoid him, and by then, Summer is long gone. 

(On the other side of the world, Winter takes the form of a tall boy with hair like night and eyes as blue as ice. Spring takes Winter’s red-tipped fingers into his hands and fills them with warmth before the taller one goes. 

Shoyo tells Summer about Winter’s new form before he too, goes.)

Summer waits, this time. Autumn is startled to find him there, visibly freezing when he spots him as if he’s let down his guard and expected Summer to be gone. It’s sunset when Autumn arrives, the end of one day into another. There’s something final about it, though Summer knows the sun will always rise on a new day. There’s a half-formed thought in the back of his mind, but he turns his attention to Autumn, instead. 

Sure enough, Autumn hasn’t taken a human form. Summer is sure it will take more convincing, but he’s determined to bring Autumn into their circle more than he’s been thus far. They’ve been here for cycles and cycles already, but Summer is astounded by how little they know about their last member. 

“Why do you keep waiting for me?” Autumn asks, hanging back away from where Summer sits in the grass, watching the sun sink. 

“You know,” Summer starts, “in the beginning, it was just me. The universe put me here because it thought something could be made of it. Winter came because I can’t cover the whole world. You two came for balance. This world isn’t like us; it needs the balance of all of us to survive and thrive.”

Autumn hesitates. Slowly, he joins Summer in the grass, settling beside him like a blanket. 

Summer grins over at him. “Do you watch the sunset a lot? It’s sort of like an ending too. The end of a day, a month, a cycle… Humans come up with some interesting things. Even though it signifies an end, it’s not permanent. That’d be like saying nighttime is bad, but some things flourish then, too.”

“Are you trying to change my mind by comparing me to the day cycle?” Autumn asks.

Summer laughs, loud and free. “Maybe. Is it working?”

Autumn stays quiet for a long moment, watching the sun sink. It isn’t until darkness sweeps across the world that he rises. 

“Maybe,” he murmurs.

Summer watches him vanish over the crest of the hill. 

(The next time Summer sees Shoyo, he’s decided on a name. 

“Winter did too,” Shoyo laughs. “He’s Tobio. What’s yours?”

“Sorry, Shoyo,” Summer grins, “I’ve got someone else I have to tell first.”)

Summer doesn’t see Autumn again for an entire cycle. The first time, Summer decides to give him space, but by the time he needs to leave the other side, it’s a little more upsetting. He goes through a human’s year without seeing Autumn, and then another. The name waits in his chest. 

Autumn comes early the next year. It’s the middle of the night, and a moment later, Summer might not have recognized him. He changes as he descends, all the hesitance and endings pressing itself into the shape of a tall man. When he unfolds, his brown hair falls past his shoulders in gentle waves and his dark eyes are careful, scanning the world around him like he’s seeing it for the first time. 

Summer shrieks so loudly that he sees Autumn’s new form physically flinch in reaction. He pays it little mind, sprinting the short distance and flinging himself at the taller man so aggressively that they both go down in a whirl of leaves and dispensed forms. Autumn reforms slowly beneath him, still not accustomed to piecing his human form together as quickly as Summer.

“Ow,” he gets out. 

“Where have you been?” Summer demands.

“Sorry,” Autumn frowns, “I’ve been… thinking. I lost track of time.” 

Summer frowns down at him, and then disperses his human form, condensing again into it a bit away. He watches Autumn stumble back to his feet, still hesitant and unsure in this more solid form. It’s a good look, Summer will admit. It fits Autumn. 

“Sorry,” Autumn says again. 

“You apologize too much,” Summer tells him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Just don’t do it again or I’ll wait even longer next time.”

Autumn smiles a hesitant little smile. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

He needs to go soon, but since Autumn is here early, he has a little bit of time. He gestures to the other season.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s watch the sunrise. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Autumn looks a little scared, but his curiosity visibly wins out. He follows Summer through the trees. Summer leads him on and on until they finally come to an overlook where the view of the dark sky is clear. The sun isn’t quite rising yet, but he can see the light getting ready to come up over the horizon. 

“I’m glad you decided to try,” Summer tells him, sitting down and stretching his legs out. “Human forms are strange and different from what we’re used to, but it’s a good difference. I like it. I think you will, too.”

Autumn slowly sits beside him. Summer watches him run his fingers through the grass, lips parted in surprise at the sensation. 

“Have you thought of a name?” Summer asks him, laughing. 

“No,” Autumn admits, shaking his head. “I don’t know where to start.” 

“I decided on mine,” Summer tells him. “Do you wanna know?”

Autumn’s expression gives him away before he can even reply. Summer laughs, leaning back on his palms as the sky streaks with reds and golds. 

“I decided on Yuu.” 

“Yuu,” Autumn echoes softly. 

Something about the way the other season says it cements it in Yuu’s chest. He doesn’t have a heart like humans, but if he did, he’s sure it would be racing. Autumn brings his knees up and leans against them, watching the golden light peek over the horizon. It’s warm when it washes across the horizon; after all, summer hasn’t quite passed yet. 

“I like it,” Autumn says.

“What about Asahi?” Yuu asks abruptly.

The birds flee from the nearby trees. Autumn visibly starts.

“Huh?” He asks. “I thought you were going with Yuu?”

“Not for me,” Yuu turns to him. “For you.”

“Asahi,” Autumn echoes, and then again, “Asahi.” 

He seems to genuinely ponder it for a moment. Yuu watches the expressions cross his face rapidly. The suggestion had been a spur of the moment, and he doesn’t remember where the name had come from, but something about it just fits Autumn. 

“Okay,” Autumn murmurs, finally, “Asahi it is.” 

The sun crests over the horizon and lights Yuu’s entire face in a brilliant glow. His smile shines even brighter. 

Yuu leaves later that day. Asahi sees him off, and he seems hesitant like there’s something he wants to say but he can’t bring himself to. Yuu doesn’t push it. He doesn’t know what they’re building, but it’s still tentative now, and they’ve got all the time to do it. Yuu isn’t patient or subtle, but he doesn’t want to chase Asahi away again. 

“See you next time,” he says.

He streaks away into the day, leaving light behind where his footsteps had been.

Time goes on, and people make up new tales. Sometimes, winter lasts longer than it should, and some say the groundhog saw its shadow. Others will say that spring came along, and winter stayed behind to spend a few extra days by his side. 

Sometimes, at the end of summer, the last few days are hotter than the rest. Someone might say it’s because the earth is growing hotter every year and humanity is pushing it. A mother might tell her child that it’s because the summer is happy to finally greet the fall. 

And maybe two men might overhear her on the sidewalk, hand in hand, a mysterious twinkle in their eyes and something strange and otherworldly about them. But if anyone knew the truth, they seemed none the wiser.

In the end, autumn comes, leaves fall, and life changes in a burst of color.