Sen and Amatsuki

Sen was a silent spectator to the many lives that bloomed and faded around him. Time had never had much meaning to him; after all, he wasn’t bound by its chains. Human lives, as ephemeral as they were, held very little significance. He watched from a distance as kingdoms rose and fell, and wars were waged. As human society changed around him, he remained a detached bystander.

He might not even bother watching, really, if not for one person. One young man whose quiet demeanour belied his determination and passion; one man who would stop at nothing to save his beloved, not even if he doomed his own destiny.

For the first time, there was one human whose life seemed too fleeting to him. He wanted to reach out, to hold on to the one person who had become precious to him—but then that man cut his own life short, and Sen was alone again.

Amatsuki had never intended to live longer than his natural lifespan. As a young man, the years ahead of him seemed more than enough. The woman he loved was by his side, his personal pursuits brought him contentment, and a fulfilling career waited for him just beyond the bend. In light of it all, the future seemed such a minor concern.

Then the light of his life was taken from him, and in trying to save her he sealed his own fate: to forever remember his own failure. To go through life again and again, but to never truly be able to start over. The spell he had cast on the lantern, intended to be his salvation, had instead become his shackles.

And suddenly, even those short remaining years seemed too long to him.

It was the lantern, bound to Amatsuki’s soul, that brought Sen out of his loneliness. When they met in Amatsuki’s next life, Sen found out that he remembered—that the spell had preserved his memories flawlessly. Once Amatsuki found the lantern, all of the memories from his past lives would flood back into him.

The realisation lit a flicker of hope in him.

From then on, in every life, Sen sought out the lantern. And once he found it, he waited until the soul bound to the lantern emerged again, wearing a different face and name. Sometimes he led the way, guiding Amatsuki to the lantern. Other times he simply waited until Amatsuki found it on his own.

Trying to win Amatsuki’s love proved much harder than he’d imagined. It seemed that no matter how many lives went by, Amatsuki would never forget his first love. Sometimes, the thought saddened him; but at other times, it renewed his determination.

After all, Sen didn’t want Amatsuki to forget. He simply wanted Amatsuki’s love. Perhaps he didn’t have it now, but he knew how such feelings were seeded: with time and patience.

And there was nothing else Sen had more of than time.

Every life, when he found the lantern again, he was always struck by two realisations. First that he had failed, and lost his greatest love; and secondly, that the enigmatic demon by his side had loved him for lifetimes.

The first revelation was always accompanied by guilt and sadness, but there was something both humbling and terrifying about the second. Why would an immortal demon wait centuries for a flawed human, let alone who hadn’t even able to save the one person who mattered to him? No matter how long he thought about it, it didn’t make any sense. Surely there were others more worthy of Sen’s love and dedication than a simple human who still lingered on his first (and he thought last) love.

He tried to push Sen away at first, as gently as he could. Sen could do better; he knew that for a fact. But it wasn’t so many lifetimes before he realised that the guilt of his loss wasn’t so potent anymore. Sen’s presence—Sen’s love—lightened it, and made the weight that much easier to bear.

He wanted to selfishly cling to Sen and the comfort he offered, but how could he do that when he had so little to offer in return? How much was his own love worth, when he could only give it for a few short years before the cycle took him again?

Ultimately, Sen was immortal. He knew well of the long spaces of time between his reincarnations—empty gaps where Sen was alone, though he always made light of the fact.

So instead of reaching out, he pulled away, and prayed that Sen eventually would as well. And if the thought brought him dread rather than relief… well, he had already failed one lover. There was no reason someone else should suffer for his sake again.

(tbc)

(it’s a happy ending eventually)