From afar, there was nothing more serene, more exquisitely beautiful than a crisp winter morning in the Felurian valleys. With ice and snow settled on every natural surface, the world appeared more a white wonderland than a place to reside in. The lushness of the spring had given way to the slow decay of autumn and now, finally, the ethereal stillness of winter.
But Hokuto knew it differently – that beneath the quiet beauty, there was encroaching violence. It was that time of year again, when the unforgiving chill of the air could consume a man whole, leaving the deep snow banks to tend to his skeleton, the last remnants of him devoured by the unyielding earth.
So, devour me.
He closed his eyes, leaning back until his face was fully submerged in the glacial river. The rush of water filled his ears, but stronger than that was the rush of blood, a reminder his heart was beating, his pulse racing. He willed his mind to still, to slow his heart, the flow of blood.
A minute passed in complete silence until, on sheer primal instinct, he came up, gasping for air. The devouring would have to wait for another day. With practiced ease, he dressed himself, shaking off a few icicles that had formed from the water still clutching to his bare skin. The cold would not hit for a few seconds still, so he hastily made his way back down the trail he had taken not too long ago.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips at the sight of his sauna. Perhaps calling it a sauna was doing a disservice to the word, it was little more than a rusted shack with boiling water. The wood creaked as if it could collapse at any moment, but remained standing only so that its owner would not freeze to death. Hokuto appreciated the sentiment and promised that one day, he would indeed take a hammer and nails to patch up his reliable shed.
Inside, Hokuto let his drenched clothes fall into a graceless pile – they were little more than obstructions between him and the heat anyways. Rubbing his hands together, he seated himself at the edge of the boiling bath he had prepared in anticipation of his return. He would not get in right away – no that would be a shock to his delicate system. Instead, he waited until he saw the first signs of colour returning to his skin and only when he no longer resembled a frigid corpse, did he lower himself with a satisfied sigh into the warmth of the wooden tub. This time he kept his head above the water, resting against the edge of the tub. Blood rushed, heart raced.
It was comforting to be alive and alone, after all.
-
An hour and a fresh set of warm clothes later, Hokuto headed back home. The sun was already setting by then, though it could not be much past four in the afternoon, shading the world in hues of purple and orange and pink. Hokuto could make out the silhouette of his cabin, dark against the snow on the horizon. It wasn’t until he was a few feet away that he could also spot a bundle on his porch.
He stilled, instantly cautious. In this secluded part of the world, anything out of the ordinary was met with suspicion and alarm. With slow and measured steps, Hokuto edged his way closer to the unmoving bundle and the bundle… had eyelashes covered in a fine layer of ice, skin as pale and translucent as the aforementioned ice, and lips… also as pale and translucent as, well, the ice.
Hokuto almost gasped as he processed the scene before him. Someone had gone ahead and died in front of his home while he had dawdled in his warm bath. It was true he hated unannounced visitors, but he wasn’t as cold a host as to let one die outside his hearth. Quicker now, he ran to the person, until he was close enough to distinguish what he had originally thought was a black bundle to be a large, rotting knit blanket.
The person cocooned within was eerily still, but Hokuto leaned in closer, anyways, until his ears almost touched their nose. He closed his eyes, slowed his heartbeat.
There. A breath so faint, he could easily have missed it. Without a second’s delay, he lifted the bundle – which was deceptively lighter than he had expected – and pushed his way in through his cabin door.
-
The man awoke a few hours later – Hokuto came to the realization that his visitor was indeed a man once he’d dispensed the shoddy blanket that appeared to offer little warmth anyways. The sun had well set by now and the world was dark, beautiful, and above all, frightening. He didn’t fear the night, but Hokuto was wary of it, which is why he lit as many candles and lanterns as he had.
The visitor blinked, raising his head from the sofa he had previously laid on. The layers of blankets Hokuto had carefully wrapped him in came undone, revealing a thin white shirt that was rather unbuttoned and doing its job of clothing its owner poorly. Hokuto turned away, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but a man should be given some semblance of dignity after all.
A well-meaning cough brought his gaze back to his visitor.
“So you came back after all,” the voice was airy, as if the person behind it could barely be bothered to speak. While he recuperated, Hokuto had some time in between rustling up a comforting soup with the last of his fresh vegetables and stoking the fireplace to observe his guest. He was fair even when not frozen half to death, with blond strands framing his soft features, eyelashes dark now that the ice had melted. The only part of him that coloured were his lips, pink like spring rosebuds.
And now that he was awake, Hokuto noted his eyes were almost ebony, glowing in the candlelight, less confused at the unusual circumstances and more accepting. As if he had come to terms with this fate.
Hokuto uncrossed his legs from the chair he sat on and leaned forward, “You were aware that the door was unlocked, right?”
With the way his visitor’s cheeks turned as pink as the lips Hokuto had studied earlier, he guessed not.
“I could not impose on a stranger’s home in that manner,” voice louder this time and, did Hokuto detect just a hint of indignation?
“Of course not, but you are okay with imposing your corpse on a stranger’s home.”
“Yes, well I suppose I am,” a huff.
Hokuto smiled and the stranger paused for a moment before a giggle escaped his lips. They both dissolved into laughter not soon after, a sound Hokuto realized was rare in this cabin in the middle of nowhere.
“I am truly sorry about that,” his guest solemnly said after he’d caught his breath. “Your home was just… Right there. And I had searched for so long. I thought that either someone would help me or I would die outside their home. It would not be too lonely a death, then, right?”
Hokuto took a deep breath. “Next time you find yourself outside a house, half frozen to death… Try opening the door…” He trailed off, realizing he had no name to direct his grievances towards.
“Taiga,” the guest replied, wrapping the fallen blankets around himself again.
“Hokuto.”
In the ensuing silence, Hokuto heard the loud, clear grumble of an empty stomach. Taiga’s cheeks turned from pink to red as he dived into the blankets until he was no longer visible.
Hokuto concealed his smile and promptly left for the kitchen. It was a small cabin, so the trip back with the bowl of soup he had prepped earlier took no longer than a minute.
“Taiga, will you come out now?” He whispered, settling in beside the bundle of blankets. He had only known his guest for half a day and yet the man appeared to always be wrapped in blankets.
Slowly, the layers of fabric gave way to a sheepish face. It didn’t take long for Taiga to connect the deliciously savory and inviting scent to the bowl Hokuto held in his hands. The blankets were forgotten completely as Taiga excitedly reached for the soup, but the tremble of his fingers stopped him from taking the bowl. He frowned, making another attempt at grasping for the bowl until Hokuto stopped him with a gentle hand.
“Here,” he whispered, filling the spoon with warm broth and holding it towards Taiga. The man before him pouted – actually pouted – before taking a sip. Hokuto watched his eyes close in contentment. A feeling he knew too well, had experienced just a few hours ago. The cold was beautiful, but the warmth was irresistible.
Taiga ate in silence after that, save for a few blissful sighs in between his meal. Hokuto set down the empty bowl, pleased that his cooking had been met with such an enthusiastic response.
“That was a charmingly simple soup. I adore how you used just a few roughly chopped vegetables and salt to really bring out the medicinal qualities. I appreciate it,” Taiga hummed.
Hokuto’s smile dropped and with little warning, he reached for Taiga’s hands, earning him a yelp in return. His fingers felt the soft, silken pads of Taiga’s fingers and he groaned, confirming his worst suspicions.
Hands that had never seen a day of work. The shirt made of pure cotton. The gold chain hanging from a pale, unmarred neck. Hearty soup described as simple and medicinal.
Taiga was a lord’s son. And he had run away right onto Hokuto’s property. No doubt there was already a search party for the little prince, the apple of his mother’s eye, the heir of his father’s acres of land and small arsenal of soldiers. And what would they do to the man whose cabin they found their precious, helpless little angel in?
“I admit we have gotten close in a rather short amount of time, but will you let go of my hand lest you perceive our relationship as something it is not.”
Hokuto dropped his hands as if they were on fire.
“You have to leave. Now.”