Reimu squinted at the wreath of twigs wedged into a narrow gap above a roof-supporting beam. "...This isn't exactly an incident."
"Did I made it sound like one?" Although she had only said there would be something unusual to see in the manor garden, Akyuu's tone was a little too innocent to be wholly sincere. Still, her smile was bright as she returned her attention to the nest. "They should be leaving any day now."
Before she was even done speaking, one of the fledgling birds rose above its siblings to beat its wings in a sudden furious flurry. It settled down just as abruptly as it had stood up and resumed making peeping sounds.
Reimu frowned. "What kind of a bird is that?"
"I have never seen this particular species before. Perhaps it's a type of thrush extinct elsewhere."
"Or something invading Gensokyo."
An adult thrush alighted onto the garden wall as if to contribute to the debate. Its shape was familiar and singularly bird-like, not unlike what Reimu might have drawn if asked to simply draw a bird. Its black plumage and orange beak marked it as a stranger to Gensokyo, but as Reimu watched it fly back to the nest with a worm in its beak, she could no longer convince herself it was secretly a powerful youkai in disguise.
"I suppose they could be a threat to the integrity of the barrier." Akyuu said with a glint of humour in her eyes. "Would you like some tea as you continue to observe the situation?"
Soon, Reimu was sitting next to Akyuu on the porch and breathing in soothing-smelling steam. As the fledglings seemed content to remain in the nest for the time being, she found herself instead studying the hydrangea bushes in full bloom by the wall. Most of the flowers were a vivid pink, but towards the southern end of the garden, they gave way first to white and then blue clouds of petals. Their colour varied based on soil, didn't it? She wondered what was so different about—
Akyuu's gasp was more like a sharp exhale, but it snapped Reimu's attention back to the birds just in time to witness a fledgling plummeting to the ground.
"Oh." Reimu set her cup aside and stood up on instinct.
"The others pushed it," Akyuu observed, her voice calm. The knots in her brow eased as the fledgling scrambled to its feet and made an offended peep, apparently unharmed by its less than dignified departure from the nest.
While its siblings continued to shuffle above it with jerky movements, the unfortunate fledgling remained where it had fallen for several moments longer, flitting its head all about as if attempting to keep track of a circling tengu. With its short wings and tail and overall sparrow-like shape, it looked curiously compact compared to an adult thrush. After a long delay, it managed to flutter onto a step leading up to the walkway and perched on its edge as if waiting for the world to change around it.
Reimu frowned. "Do you think it can fly from there?"
"I'm not sure." Akyuu eyed the latticework close to the where the fledgling sat. "Perhaps it will eventually make its way high enough."
Reimu looked at her, then at the bird, then sighed and left Akyuu's side.
The bird finally noticed her when she was only a few paces away. It fixed its beady gaze upon her, its beak slightly upturned as if hoping she was coming over with a worm. From close up it was almost ugly, sporting the permanent scowl and downturned features of a dissatisfied customer. Within moments it lost all interest in Reimu and stared towards the garden again.
Reimu crouched down and scooped the little bird in her hands, then straightened up again. She backed up to the walkway, then extended her arms and raised the fledgling to her eye level.
The bird had taken its sudden ascension in stride, without so much a peep or a flutter of panic. Now it seemed perfectly content to sit exactly where it was, occasionally cocking its head to the side.
Reimu mulled her options as minutes passed by. Should she fly into a tree with the fledgling to create more distance between it and the ground? She could already picture herself stuck in the largest pine on the manor grounds, feeling like an overgrown bullfinch while the fledgling refused to budge for hours and hours.
"Allow me." Akyuu had crept over like a cat. Her hands rose to support Reimu's elbows, her body almost but not quite pressing against her back. It didn't help much — in fact, it only took a moment before Akyuu's arms began trembling — but Reimu didn't see the need to point that out immediately.
"Don't strain yourself," she finally said after several more minutes had passed without so much as a raised wing from the bird. "I can take care of this."
"I know you can." By then, Akyuu's entire upper body was shaking like a reed in a gale.
Reimu's arms were starting to feel wooden, too. "If it doesn't fly in another minute, I'm going to set it down somewhere safe and—"
The fledgling flapped its wings with sudden great fervour. Reimu jerked her head back and nearly rammed her skull into Akyuu's nose.
"Careful." The laughter was evident in Akyuu's tone even as she struggled to keep her balance. The scent of her hair was curiously autumnal for summer, like roses mingled with just a few crushed dead leaves. It lingered in Reimu's nostrils even as she straightened up again.
The fledgling cared nothing of this human drama. After several dozen more furious flaps, during which its claws nearly broke Reimu's skin, it settled back down to imitating a statuette. It pivoted its head around until it fixed its gaze on a somewhat spindly pine close to the garden wall.
The silence grew so complete Reimu felt the bird's heartbeat pulsing against her palms.
Then, the everyday miracle happened. With a sudden lurch, the fledgling took flight.
This first foray into the air was nothing like the effortless gliding of the bird's elder kin. It was awkward and desperate, filled with flailing movements and abrupt adjustments. It was over in a matter of three heartbeats.
It was also a success. The bird made its way to the pine and curled its feet around a thin branch. After a few additional flutters to regain its balance, it continued scowling as if nothing of note had passed.
Reimu realised she had been holding her breath since the moment the bird had taken off. She exhaled now, accidentally leaning her weight into Akyuu as she did so.
Akyuu faltered, giving Reimu a flashing impression of bird-like bones that might snap at the smallest impact. She rallied and stepped to the side the moment Reimu shied away, and by the time Reimu turned towards her, she was watching the bird with an unruffled smile. "To think we were fortunate enough to witness that."
Reimu nodded and studied her hands. On each palm there were small puncture marks from where the bird's claws had sunk into her skin. She closed her fists around them. When she next looked at them, would they still be there? Or would they be forever relegated to memory?
Time passed. The fledglings' parents returned twice more: first to feed the ones still in the nest, then to do the same for the one calling for them from the pine. After that, they were gone. Perhaps they hoped their absence would encourage the little ones to get a move on.
If so, their plan worked. Eventually, a second fledgling shuffled sideways out of the nest and stared at the same tree as the first one, only to change its mind and aim instead for a more distant bush. The third was even more ambitious: after several minutes spent stretching its wings, it took the plunge and made it all the way to a rock by the hydrangea.
The fourth and final bird, however, was still in the nest by the time all its siblings had made their way over the garden wall. Once the sun began to drift downwards its parents repeatedly called for it in the distance, to no avail.
Reimu squinted at what little she could see of the top of the bird's head. "Is it weaker than the others?"
"It's likely the runt of the litter." Akyuu's voice was low as if not to overpower the birdsong. "The first time I witnessed something like this, the smallest of the birds refused to leave entirely. As evening fell, its parents gave up and began feeding it once more. It finally left the nest the following afternoon, its breast still the yellow of flightless fledglings."
Reimu glanced at her. "How long ago was that?"
"I was Ani back then."
Reimu said nothing as the weight of history pressed down on her shoulders.
Perhaps the same burden had descended on Akyuu as well, because she continued speaking with a gentle smile. "Perhaps one day I will grow tired following the passage of seasons and all that transpires during them, but for the time being I find witnessing the first flights of birds just as wondrous as I did a thousand years ago."
She fell silent. It was impossible to tell whether it was because she was done with the subject or simply because the fledgling had finally stirred.
The bird struggled out of the nest and loomed on its edge, the down sticking to it flaring in all directions. It made several abortive attempts to dive off, then went still once more as if petrified by fear. It looked just about ready to retreat back into the nest when it instead dipped forward.
Reimu was on her feet before she could think of it. Before she could move again, however, the bird began flapping its wings. In moments, it had made its faltering way onto the same pine branch that its first sibling had landed on.
Reimu released her breath. She heard Akyuu rise up behind her and didn't need to see her face to know she was smiling.
By the time she did turn to look, the shape of Akyuu's eyes gave her face a melancholy cast. It faded as Akyuu noticed Reimu's stare, partially supplanted by quiet humour. "Now that it's over I almost wish it had taken longer."
Reimu's eyes returned to the little bird jutting on the branch like a bizarre and not particularly appealing ornament. "It's still going to take it a while to figure out where everyone else went."
It did indeed take the fledgling another quarter of an hour to make it onto the garden wall. It sat there for another long moment, peeping at intervals before finally flapping from sight.
"There it goes," said Reimu. "Off to menace the local bugs for the rest of its life."
Akyuu's eyes grew glassy again. Her smile remained, but it too seemed likely to fly away at any moment. For once, her thoughts seemed almost tangible.
Voicing the words that had crossed her mind felt like poking at a scab till it bled, but Reimu's mouth moved all the same. "How long do they live?"
Akyuu's eyes remained on the garden wall, her tone placid. "I can only hazard a guess with this particular species, but the average thrush lives but a few years."
The ensuing stretch of silence was much shorter than the longest ones during their bird-watching, but it felt longer than all of them combined. As it went on, Reimu grew acutely aware of the summer heat and the droning of the first cicadas of the season. It soon seemed like they stole all the available air, leaving nothing for her to breathe.
Akyuu could at least breathe enough to eventually change the subject. "It's curious how summers can be so alike and yet so distinct."
Reimu shrugged. "They've all started to blend together in my memories."
"I sometimes wonder what that must feel like. Do you consider it a blessing or a curse?"
"I haven't thought of it like that."
Reimu glanced to her side again. Had those dark circles beneath Akyuu's eyes always been there? Was the faint dullness to her usually doll-like skin similarly real or a mere trick of the light?
Time was a cruel thing that always moved at the wrong speed. So many lazy days in Reimu's life had crawled by slower than a snail after peace and quiet had grown monotone. Now, as Reimu studied Akyuu in more painstaking detail than she ever had before in her life, all those days and months were so much sand scattered beyond reach.
She had made a half-conscious effort to focus on individual days rather than the passing of the years. Even so, she knew the truth. The remaining seasons allotted to her and Akyuu's acquaintanceship could be counted with the fingers of one hand.
There was nothing to be done about it. They had both known not only that the end would come, but when it would come. For the first time in her life, Reimu was going to lose someone she cared about while being old enough to remember it. All the more reason to do nothing that would make the wounds deeper.
"Which have you ended up regretting more?" she asked anyway, cutting through skin in a moment of madness. "Leaving people behind when you die, or not saying what you wanted to say to them when you had the chance?"
Akyuu turned towards her. Her eyes stared right through her.
Reimu shook her head as if to to chase away a bug. "Don't answer that."
"Very well."
After another bout of suffocating silence, Reimu squared her shoulders and inhaled. There would be less to regret if they remembered the roles they had to play. "I should go."
"You're welcome to stay for dinner."
Reimu hardly ever turned down free food. Still, as she studied Akyuu's gentle smile and clasped hands, she felt like she had swallowed enough ashes to keep her from feeling hunger for weeks. "Maybe another time."
"In that case I will see you later."
Reimu nodded, and with nothing else left to say or do, turned on her heels and began navigating towards the entrance. Everything was as it should be. There was no need to feel like she had stabbed herself in the arm.
She was just about to exit the garden when she heard sprinting footsteps behind her.
"Reimu."
Akyuu's cheeks were slightly aglow. The momentary spurt had been enough to make her pant. She took a moment to catch her breath before continuing.
"About your earlier question," she said in a tone no different from the one she had used to discuss the lifespans of thrushes. "While you said you didn't wish for a reply, I feel compelled to share my opinion regardless."
Reimu was struck by a sudden urge to flee. To counteract it, she grabbed onto the nearest wooden beam and used it as an anchor.
The colour of Akyuu's irises was a rarity even in Gensokyo: a shade of violet that the sharpness of her gaze could hone to amethyst. They were so striking Reimu preferred not to look at them for too long. Now, however, she met the contemplative, almost solid stare Akyuu gave her with one of her own as the world contracted to only the two of them.
"So. Which kind of pain do I consider more severe, that of loss or that of what could have been?" Akyuu raised her hand to her ribcage as if merely considering the matter was enough to hurt her heart. "So far I have found the first cut from loss to always bes the more savage one. At its worst, it leaves me drowning for weeks, unable to draw a breath even as my heart remains beating. Too many times I have woken up from a dream where my loved ones were alive and well by my side only for reality to descend upon me again.
"However.... with time, the nature of loss changes. I still carry mine with me, but through years and decades, I have come to slowly adjust to each burden. I won't pretend the pain will ever fully fade away, but it can become precious in its own right. I am proud to retain memories of the wonderful people I knew in my past lives. There are still some I cannot think of without losing days to melancholy, but for the most part, I can look back at our time together with a smile.
"By contrast, the burden of what could have been..." Akyuu paused to shake her head. "It's true that sometimes it's non-existent. I cannot forget anything, naturally, but sometimes the missed opportunity will slip from my conscious thoughts and join the leagues of trivial reminisces. However, at their worst, such missed opportunities become a subtle poison. Decades and centuries will pass, and I will still think back on those moments when I should have said something and failed to do so. The pain isn't as intolerable or acute as that from losing someone close to your heart, but it never goes away, either. All I can tell myself is that it's too late to wonder about what might have been even if that sometimes only makes the blade of regret keener."
She dropped her hand from her chest and smiled. "In any case, it's impossible to live without cumulating both losses and regrets. All we can do is carry both with us as best we can."
Reimu said nothing for a while longer. When her mouth finally moved, the words that came out were the first ones to have crossed her mind. "You sound your age when you speak like that."
Akyuu's smile turned slightly smug. "Perhaps it's the wealth of experience speaking."
With that, she fell silent. She looked at Reimu with almost piercing gentleness, mere steps away and with a gulf of centuries between them.
As the silence stretched on, a tenderness sharper than a blade and softer than a snowdrop arose within Reimu. She would have bet everything that Akyuu wouldn't say another word before she herself spoke again. She could ignore the unacknowledged possibility between them if she wished to do so, and it likely — no, definitely — would never come up again. Even though Akyuu was the one who would have to live with the consequences of that decision for centuries to come.
She could still fly away. She could try, anyway: her heart had already been snared so subtly she had to wonder if it had been wholly accidental. Still. She could leave. She could stay away. She could forget.
"About that offer for dinner."
Akyuu's exhalation was so soft Reimu would have missed it if she hadn't been looking out for it. Her ensuing smile was characteristically composed even as the gleam in her eyes turned their jewel-like sheen into something more liquid. "I shall inform the staff."
Only, she didn't move to do so. She and Reimu remained facing each other on the walkway while the distant calls of the thrushes rang intermittently over the cicadas.
Reimu breathed in the summer. Then, with one final decisive step, she closed the distance between her and Akyuu and took her hand.
Akyuu made no protest. She gazed at where Reimu's fingers met hers through her lashes. "Are you certain?"
Reimu shrugged. The hand in her grasp felt strangely cool, the skin soft and the pulse thrumming through it tangible through the touch. She traced beads of sweat along the line of Akyuu's thumb. "I'm following my instincts."
"I'm sorry."
"For what? Dying?" The smile that rose to Reimu's face was genuine. "That's life for you."
Akyuu's fingers curled around Reimu's. She gave her a smile of such aching tenderness that for a brief moment, it melted all distance between them.
Reimu took Akyuu's other hand as well and stepped even closer. With one final lean forward, she took flight.