---

❁

The crane had a dream last night. One of the many that would reoccur within the night.

A child, a daughter, one she had named Yukimi; beautiful snow. Because that's what she was -- beautiful like the first drop of crystalline snowflakes during the winter months. Though Izumi could never remember her imaginary daughter's face, or what she looked like. She only remembered that she was so full of life -- that she was perfect, that she was hers. Within this dream, Yukimi had ran across a viridescent field of grass, bounding across hills and egging her mother to follow her, which she did. Her laughter carried throughout the fields they trekked -- and for a rare moment of joy, so did Izumi.

Yet something went terribly wrong.

Izumi stopped as the earth beneath them began to shake, and soon crumble into a pitch black hole of nothingness. Horrified, Yukimi turned and tried to run to Izumi, but not before tripping and falling flat on her face. Izumi looked horrified as she ran towards her daughter, who'd reached and called out to her, but to no avail. She'd fall straight into the approaching pit, and Izumi practically crumbled to her knees as a wave of despair hit her. She screamed into the darkness, desperate. "...." -- no sound would come.

"...."

Over and over, Izumi would scream into the darkness, tears staining her cheeks, but no sound coming out her lips. Until a set of shadowy jaws came from it's depths, and engulfed her into it.

"YUKIMI!"

The crane had woken up in a cold sweat, heaving so hard her chest strained and hurt. Her pupils dilated and her paws felt up her face as a way to see if she'd been appart of reality once more. Izumi felt tears dribble from her eyes and fall to the floor. Sleep exhausted eyes blurred, and a weak scoff would come from her chest. 'Was this the world mocking me for wanting to bring life to this world? To tell me I shouldn't?', the woman thought.

Before slumping back onto her side, curling herself in a ball as if to comfort herself. Though she couldn't find it in herself to go back to sleep. How endlessly pathetic could she be?...

---

---

---

Osamu

Again, he had failed.

Again, he was left alone with his thoughts and his shame.

Hunting, eating had become a chore. He lacked the desire to sleep, but it was unbearable to stay awake; at least in dreams, Osamu could enjoy fleeting moments of what might have been. Perhaps he was cursed. Had the Oni done so? He could not remember it saying anything of the nature, nothing else beyond its thunderous laughter as the comforting numbness of a death swift approaching sent him -

- here.

A wolf. He could hardly recall a time now when he hadn't been. This was meant to be, he had thought it to be a second chance at redemption, a way to atone for his failures wearing a new skin.

Never had he thought in his wildest dreams he would meet someone like her.

Izumi.

Osamu had taken up her cause without a second thought and swore himself as her guardian and mentor. It had been fate that brought them together, rising with the Fujiwara Clan as they worked tirelessly to create a home for the Empress and her subjects, her companions and friends; yet so much time spent together had wrought forbidden desires within his heart.

He tried to fight against it, of course. It was a daily grapple with his emotions simply being near her, to spar and train with her, the closeness of their breath and press of their bodies driving him nearly mad -

Oh, but how sweet was the forbidden fruit once tasted. Yet the words had barely escaped their lips when - through whatever cosmic force, whatever furious deity - Izumi had been spirited away from him, leaving nary a trace.

Osamu remained. Fujiwara collapsed, then dispersed. He had spent many moons after guarding their home in Queen's Rest, a lone sentinal against the inexorable tide of loneliness, staring out toward the silent sea as everything had been taken from him once again.

Eventually, he left. He had to leave. The memories were crushing, the scent of wisteria maddening, and every day he walked by their empty dens with ice in his heart and emptiness in his grey, listless gaze.

And now he was a sorry sight.

The ghost of Osamu lingered in the woods, a silver shadow wearing his face. Quietly he slipped between the tall trees, a light breeze lending a chill to the air that made him bristle as he padded forward; although he had no interest in food, his body required it, and the near-constant growl of his stomach had grown irritating.

"YUKIMI!"

His blood ran cold. The name was unknown to him, but the voice - he knew that voice -

Osamu ran toward the sound.

Another ghost lay pale in the cold light of the moon. He tried to open his mouth to speak to the spirit, but nothing came out as it caught in his throat.

---

❁

Izumi had tried to drift back off into sleep then, attempting to seek comfort in her dreams even though they’d always managed to turn into nightmares. Even if she wasn’t real, even if Yukimi had only been a figment of her imagination. The cranebird sought out the spirit with a strong maternal instinct she didn’t know she had in her. Heavy eyes, puffy from the swell of stray tears, willed themselves to shut again. To put Izumi back to sleep – to save her child from whatever terrible fate her nightmares sought for her. Yet just as quickly as the woman drifted back to sleep–

–she woke back up.

Jolted out from her soon-to-be slumber by the thundering of pawsteps within the woods. Izumi looked around wildly, ears swiveling and eyes widened. Though her camp in the woods may not have been the most discreet, it was good enough to where she didn’t have to worry about others wandering too close. Though whoever this was had found her – and was heading straight towards her. The woman immediately shot up and assumed a defensive stance, one that had been taught to her many times before. The fur on the back of her neck stood on end, and her icy lilac gaze locked onto the arrival of the stranger that had just entered her make-shift home.

Except……it was no stranger at all.

A cast of moonlight illuminated the tall man’s features almost too perfectly, his grizzled features stark and as handsome as they were since the last time she’d saw him. Her defenses slowly lowered, and her eyes slowly widened as recognition began to set in. Izumi knew better than to think it was a dream, too. Not when the cool midnight air that fell upon and graced her skin felt too real to dismiss. This man that entered her domain was no stranger, nor a figment of her imagination. It was her Getsugin (Silver Moon). The one she had yearned to return to for so long.

And she ran to him.

Ears pinned to her head, a smile gracing her lips, and tears burning her eyes once again, she ran to him. Lunging, not caring if she crashed into him in the process either.

---

---

He might have felt pride, had Osamu actually taken stock of her defensive posturing. His training had obviously served her well even after so much time, but he didn't think about that, he didn't care about that; the only thing his eyes registered was the willowy silhouette and sharp lilac gaze of the woman he'd once thought gone forever. Even tear-stained, her angular cheekbones stood out in stark contrast against the soft drapery of pale fur that framed her face.

The Samurai and the Crane beheld each other for several breathless moments - hesitant, afraid. Uncertain if one or the other was a dream, or even some vivid hallucination of Osamu's driven by a grief so powerful that it finally shattered what was left of his fraying mind and had at last driven him mad.

Izumi, he uttered, his mouth suddenly dry.

The word was almost foreign to him now. How long had it been since her name last crossed his lips? Months? Years? Time was impossible to measure when it meant nothing at all.

Nothing without her.

He couldn't move - if he did, she might vanish into the air and disappear someplace he would never find her again. Even as she swept toward him with the graceful flow of the tide itself he remained rooted to the earth, four paws planted in a grounding stance while he held his breath and wondered if this was truly his Empress made flesh once more.

Oh! Blessed was the scent of wisteria, holy was the salt of seafoam as her scent assailed him and sent the man plunging beneath the waves of his own heart in a baptism. Osamu caught her in his arms and they fell all at once, a tangle of silver and white and ash as the two cleaved together in blissful silence. Tightly he held her, pressing Izumi against his deep chest as the curve of his neck followed her own graceful line.

大藤原氏の皇后, (Empress of the great Fujiwara Clan) he rumbled quietly against her ear, She who wears the light of the stars in her fur.

The silent crane had returned to him, and Osamu felt himself breathe for the first time since the day she vanished.

---

❁

”Osamu…”

She breathed in the samurai’s scent as they embraced, inhaling within the nape of his neck as if starved of oxygen for too long, her forearms wrapped around his shoulders tightly. Tears streamed the fine bones of her features, mixed in with soft laughter. Sorrow and relief fought for dominance within her chest – the sorrow of not returning to him sooner, and the relief of finally seeing him again. ”銀の月よ、愛しい人よ。ついに、また私の前に立つのですね……” (My silver moon, my love. You stand before me again at last…) the empress said breathlessly within the warmth of his furs.

--and she didn’t know when it started, either, but she’d begin kissing him.

Showering the samurai with soft, gentle kisses. Beneath his chin, against his cheek, his forehead. Self preservation be damned, she no longer cared. Izumi had burned for this man for far too long, and she’d realized too little too late before fate had plans to tear her away from her home and second time. If the gods had plans to take her away from Osamu once more, she did not wish to die before he knew how she felt. A pleasant shiver ran along her spine as his words blew gentle baritones against the lobe of her ears, and a faint chuckle reached her maw as he brought her back to reality.

”I am here….I am here….”

And she would never leave his side again….

---

---

He could have stayed this way forever, locked within their shared embrace, face buried deep within the luxurious softness of her fur. Time seemed to still and he savored the moment with every atom of his being, every fiber entirely focused on the sensation of how whole he felt. A part of him still fretted that it was wrong, that their love was forbidden - a simple samurai falling for his Empress, a woman far above his own station, holy and pure like the light of the heavens themselves.

And yet. Osamu, the man, selfishly refused to care.

Izumi.

The most beautiful name for the most beautiful creature he had ever -

His attention broke away at a sudden, new sensation, one he had never felt before. Without any warning he was quickly assailed by a flurry of feather-light touches, warm and gentle and damp, covering his cheek, his forehead, his chin, even his nose - his eyes opened wide, bright silver blinking in shock as he realized what she was doing.

Osamu held his breath for what felt like an eternity.

Izumi had stopped, and the words she breathed against his nape were soft velvet like falling petals from a rose.

He smiled in spite of himself as an unfamiliar wet sheen took to his eyes. It was not like the man to weep, but he felt dangerously close.

All of his life - his lives! - and not once had he ever enjoyed the simple pleasure of a kiss. Always he had been alone, whether by choice or sworn duty, but today he was not just Osamu - he was hers, and deep within the well of his heart, he knew Izumi was also his own. Rank be damned, propriety be cursed; the samurai never felt he ever deserved anything, but if this woman chose to love him, even knowing these things, who was he to command an Empress to cease?

I will follow you until my last breath, he whispered, And when that breath is gone, my soul will follow you still.

Osamu took a deep, bracing breath, and kissed her in turn. She was divine. She was the holiest of holies, her words by which he would forever live.

A thought crossed his mind.

... Queen's Rest remains unclaimed.

He withdrew momentarily from his adoration of her, enough to study her very seriously with eyes yet tender still.

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