Unspooling the threads

Memory of fire 2

Thoughts, returned.

The first time Akira holds a weapon it's out of desperation, lifting his mother's knife as fast and as hard as his thin limbs would let him, adrenaline does most of the work for him though. It's years later that he unsheathes the blade without fear boiling his veins, under Koráki's watchful eyes.

The demigod hums loudly, before slowly approaching Akira and putting his hands around Akira's own.

"You want to hold it vertically, it's a dagger, not a knife"

He lets go then, and it's early enough in their time together that Akira doesn't mourn the loss, but late enough that the contact doesn't feel like ants crawling through his skin. Koráki knows this, feels it too to an extent, but he still pauses before every contact, giving Akira the chance to turn it away should he want to.

Sometimes, like right now, Akira finds it a little frustrating, because how else is he supposed to learn the proper way to hold a blade?

"You forget that I'm shit with blades chico"

Akira blinks at him, once, twice, thrice. Koráki gives him an amused sort of grin.

"You said it out loud"

He feels heat climb to his face at an impressive rate. To his credit, Koráki doesn't laugh or make fun of him.

"But if you're anything like a Greek demigod, it should come naturally to you"

It turns out that it doesn't come naturally to him, and Koráki spends all the time it takes Akira to realize this staring calculatingly at his every movement. Despite his claim of being bad with blades, Koráki is really good at explaining how to best use them, he says it's because it took a few tries to find his true weapon.

Now, he's giving Akira this sort of look he doesn't know what to do with.

"It's like your depth perception is off"

Then he approaches, in exaggerated but quick steps, Akira stays put, so he knows he's ok with it. And they're a breath away, making direct eye-contact, and by now Akira's starting to feel something, and this does not help.

"Huh, I think you're nocturnal"

That... would explain a lot actually.

Koráki has him wearing sunglasses until his grip is steady and his movements instinctual, and then training inside without them so he can regulate how much light there is, and finally allowing Akira to go back to the sharp dessert sunlight. It goes, exponentially better.

A few weeks later though, Koráki tells him to take care of himself while he goes on a job, one he claims will be 'a quick in and out' considering he can't get involved in this particular war.

When he appears home that afternoon, he tells Akira they're gonna have company, and guides him outside to meet the child of the Underworld king. One Nico Di Angelo.

He fails to recognize the feeling he has towards Di Angelo for what it really is, despite having felt it on plenty of occasions beforehand. The envy that rises as he watches him match Leo step for step with nothing but instinct and a sword is easier to pin point, but he refuses to acknowledge it, until he can't.

Akira knows he isn't supposed to be here, that Koráki most definitely guided Di Angelo this far from the shack on purpose; but it's not like Akira could control the appearance of minor rank monsters.

So he's close by when he hears talking, and just happens to be where he can look at them; and they're standing so close, and... and there's something about the way they're standing, about the way they're looking at one another, Akira can't look away.

"That's as much as I can give you"

Koráki looks smaller then, than he's ever looked, and far more human too. Di Angelo gives him an odd sort of look before facing sideways, features flushing.

"I saw it too you know? The room of life-lines"

Koráki smiles weakly, nodding his head; and there's something to his expression that sits wrong with Akira. But Di Angelo finally turns his head again, and then steps forwards, grabbing Koráki's hands.

"So it's fine, it's plenty"

Akira knows what'll happen before it does, but he can't move, and so he watches as Koráki pulls on one pair of joined hands, and presses his mouth against Di Angelo's knuckles. And it's not the first time he's done it, not a scene Akira is unfamiliar with, but it hurts more now for whatever reason; hurts enough as to allow Akira to flee.

Di Angelo is gone the next day, and though Koráki stays, it's as though he went with him all the same.

When Akira wakes up, it's not to the ever-present wood of the shack, but to the concrete walls of the Shirogane's guest room. There's a sliver of light peeking through his curtains, and it curls in the air for a moment as though alive, before a mirage-like picture forms in front of his eyes, a face he hasn't seen in years.

"Leo?"