. . .

"It is only through shadows that one comes to know the light."

—St. Catherine of Siena.

. . .

Travelling through shadows is... not at all what Alastor expected, to be honest. Then again, he literally has no idea what to expect from here on out.

I mean, it's just shadow... right?

Somewhere up in Mount Olympus, he can almost picture Thalia, the goddess of Comedy herself, snorting in laughter at his wishful thinking.

The moment his ears caught the faint sound of an alarm coming from the direction of her room, he assumed that it was time to leave or something. Luckily, he guessed right because Winters approached him after a few minutes in the living room, dressed in a trench coat that reminded him of the first time he saw her.

"Uh... so, where are your bags?" Alastor finally asked, gesturing to her hands that were buried deep within her pockets.

Other than her sword—the idea that another being, another god was with her is still so confusing—Winters doesn't seem to bring anything else with her. It's also a bit awkward since he had his trusty, mountaineering backpack on and the groceries they had bought already packed in another luggage and ready to be wheeled.

Compared to her, it looked like he's been packing excessively and it's beginning to embarrass him because it shows just how excited it was for this trip. I mean, come on, can you blame him?!

It's JAPAN!

"I stored it," she answered, before holding out a hand to him.

Not thinking much of it, he held her hand.

For a moment, Winters only stared at him then at their conjoined hands, at the way he interlaces his fingers with her's. Her face was completely blank... before pointedly staring down, "...I meant the bags," she said, and at the confused look on his face, she clarified, "Give me your bags so I can store it away."

He blinks, staring back at her.

Oh...

Oh, right!

She can put her things away in the shadows...

Resisting the urge to smack himself at the blunder, Alastor hurriedly let go of her hand (at least she didn't say anything about that) to remove the backpack off of him before depositing it in the pooling shadows gathering by his feet, along with the trolley as well.

"So... how does that even work?" he muttered.

Winters watched the shadows fade into nothingness, taking their things away before waving a hand, "It's a bit complicated but... to put it simply, just think of it as a personal pocket dimension."

"Oooh, can you put food in there?"

"Yes."

"It won't go bad or something?"

"No."

He startled, "Wait. You tried–?"

"...yes."

There was something exasperated in her tone now, one that clearly matches the weariness she barely blinks away from her eyes.

Hadn't she rested enough or was it just him?

"Oh, okay." Alastor shuffled, "...Cool."

"Close your eyes," Winters finally demanded at length, half-turning away from him, "And don't move until I'm done."

"Why? What are you doing?"

"I'm taking us to Japan."

A beat of silence.

His eyes bugged out, "R-right..."

He grabbed hold of her hand again.

And then, the next thing Alastor knows, the sounds of a bustling city life reached his ears. The scents of the Veil's house shifting into the crisp scent of autumn and the sharp cold air nipping at his face.

H-holy...!

She did it.

She really did it!

Sure, Alastor knows Winters—as an immortal goddess of the underworld—can travel through the shadows and appear wherever at will since he had already seen her do it firsthand but knowing and experiencing this ability firsthand is an entirely different thing!

He's... a bit disoriented though.

Maybe a side-effect?

Or because this is his first time?

(But for some really weird reason, the off-putting feeling of being one place and then another kind of... feels... sort of familiar?)

Huh, come to think of it, Alastor did remember Winters acting a bit sluggish when she appeared next to him on the train. And when he did wake up from his short-lived nap, her eyes had been closed, her breathing even.

She looked so peaceful when sleeping.

To be fair, Winters did come back from England, then straight to Japan, before backtracking to look for him in the city... so maybe that's why.

Hm, speaking of which, where is Winters?

Alastor had wandered over to the nearest bench to sit down and wait but so far, no Winters... huh, he can see Tokyo tower even from here.

And a giant... gingko tree.

Wait a minute.

...Is this Shiba park?!

Oh, my gods. OH, MY GODS...!

Wait, no. Cool. Be cool.

Taking a deep inhale, Alastor closes his eyes and tried to get a bigger feel of his surroundings. The scents don't lie, the very air and ground he's upon literally speaks of a different continent, a different country...

Oh gods, he really is in Japan right now.

But where is Winters?

Did they get separated or something?!

"..."

Aw, screw it.

He took in a deep, calming breath.

"...HEY, WINTERS!" Alastor suddenly yells out with both of his hands cupped around his mouth, surveying the open field for any signs of her. No dice. How could he even lose her like that? Did something wrong happen along the way? "Winters, can you hear me?! Where are—OH, MY GODS!"

Alastor stares down in complete horror as his mate's disembodied head peers up at him from the ground. Right inside the murky depths of Alastor's shadow that had been casted overhead by a lone streetlamp.

"Present," she deadpans.

Alastor stumbles a bit.

He looks up at the dark skies for a second just to get his bearings back, a trembling hand resting firmly on his chest as he waits for his heart to stop beating like it was planning to leap right out of his mouth.

When Alastor finally manages to wrangle his composure back into place—certain that he has sufficiently calmed enough for his mind to be in working order—he dares to look back down again, to look at his mate... who's head is still sticking unnaturally out of the ground as though she was in a beach, and the ground was sand where she had just simply been unceremoniously buried there.

Meanwhile, Winters's still staring at him, watching him freak the fuck out. Usually, Alastor would internally gush at being the sole focus of her attention but seeing her lips set in a tensed, twitching line–

His eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

Wait a minute.

Is she seriously...?!

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" Alastor snaps, crossing his arms as he glared down at her while she visibly tries not to smirk, "It's not even funny and–! And will you stop that?!"

"Stop what?" she taunts, tilting her head.

Alastor desperately flails about as he watches her long, black hair pool around the ground that he couldn't even tell which is his shadow and which is her hair, "T-...that! Quit using my shadow as your hiding place already!"

Clicking her tongue at him, Winters makes a show of pulling herself up from the ground, her slender body ascending from the depths of his shadows like a demon rising right out of hell, all smooth, black, and as graceful as the shadows at their feet and...

Okay, so maybe Winters sure does looks sort of cool and oh, who was he kidding? His poor heart shall never beat the same way ever again...

Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!

Still not cool dammit!

Alastor glares and tries not to think of how unnerved and awed he was at the same time by the casual display of her powers.

What, is she showing off or something?

"I wasn't even laughing," Winters tells him, completely straight-faced like the little lying liar that she is. His eyes narrowed as he pointedly stared at the edge of that soft, little mouth twitching every now and then. Gods, now he wanted to kiss her for even–

Wait, no. Back-track, back track!

How could she even say that to his face?!

Meanwhile, Winters stares at him, completely unapologetic for nearly giving him a heart attack, "Besides, that one's on you."

"W... What?!"

"Deserved."

Alastor groans loudly, the sound reminiscent of a dying whale as he runs a hand down his face at his indecisiveness.

Okay, on one hand, he seriously does want to kiss her senseless for being such a sneak for pulling such a prank on him. He's completely off guard and it worked. On the other hand, he may have deserved being laughed at, but he also still really, really, really, really wants to kiss her at the moment.

"Give me one reason why I deserved this..." he grumbled.

At the look on his face, she scoffed.

"Oh. I'll give you three... one, it was completely your fault. Two, you very nearly stepped on me. And three, you should have been always mindful of your surroundings."

"Hey!" he protested, stomping his foot, "I was!"

She carried on, despite his interruption, completely unperturbed, "If I was an enemy, I could have successfully cut your feet, maybe even through your legs or stab you with poison with how close I was to you. And you would be down seconds before you were even aware of my presence. Need I go on?"

What a brutally creative way of thinking.

Alastor resisted the urge to scowl at her, because while her paranoia was completely justified, what with her having a lot of enemies... still.

"Your entire body was literally in the shadows, you know," he argued, "Okay, maybe not entirely since your head was out in the open like that... but how the hell was I supposed to sense you? And for your information, I was disoriented. It's not every day you get a chance to travel through shadows–"

"By sound and by scent you should have been able to, more so since I am your... mate," Alastor wisely decided not to comment at her seconds-long hesitation. Still, it was good to hear her acknowledging what they are.

He thinks he'll never get used to it.

But...

"You do know I'm not special like you, right? I'm just a–"

Alastor very nearly bit his tongue off when Winters is suddenly so much closer, staring him down as she practically leans on him. The collar of his coat is grabbed as he's tugged forwards, bringing the two of them nose to nose.

Here, up close, Alastor can say with much certainty that her eyes are black, so vividly pitch black that it should be called a different color at how profound the shade was.

"Uh... hi?" Alastor says, squirming a little.

Really? 'Hi'?!

Real smooth, you idiot.

His face feels like it was on fire.

"You are a werewolf that has the blood of the Northern alphas running through your veins, you were even an alpha at some point—and you are also one of the very few individuals of your kind who can shift outside the Moon's influence," Winters tells him without missing a beat, in a way that leaves absolutely no room for any sort of argument.

Alastor tries not to flinch at the intensity of her tone. Her voice was impossibly soft but how could she possibly make it sound so hot and threatening at the same time...?

"Okay," he says, swallowing uneasily, "And your point is?"

"Stop underestimating yourself. It's insulting how you make yourself sound like you're weak, especially when we both know you're not."

"R-right, of course," Alastor awkwardly clears his throat as he subtly tries to avert his gaze somewhere off to the side of her face with a slight nod of his head, feeling thoroughly chastised and... and strangely flattered by her words.

He wasn't aware she thought so highly of him.

Alastor blinks when he's suddenly stopped by a hand grabbing at his chin, making him turn to face Winters and that probing stare of her's once more.

Ah, but what was that quote again?

Stare into the abyss and the abyss stares back at you.

"...The other half of my soul is anything but weak."

Here, up close, Alastor can practically feel Winters's every exhale against his mouth, the scent of sweets lingering from every breath.

"Alastor. Do you understand–?"

"OKAY! OKAY, I GET IT ALREADY!" Alastor screeches, his voice embarrassingly high pitched and shaky—annoyingly reminding him of the times when he was still a snappy teenager with a cracking voice that embarrassed him a lot, "I'm strong, I'm cool and the whole shebang! Love yourself and all that shit, right? Right..."

"..."

He's staring at the sky instead of meeting her gaze, and those thick and long eyelashes, and that adorably frowning mouth before he does something incredibly stupid and try to kiss her again without her say-so.

There's a pause, a considering one.

Without a word, Winters abruptly releases him.

Alastor stumbles a few steps back in turn, his collar a bit wrinkled from her vice-like grip and face looking like a prizeworthy tomato.

"Look, what I am trying to say is..."

Winters sighs, the perfect picture of composure and grace even as she runs a gloved hand through her bangs while Alastor feels like one foot away from combusting into flames as he watches those thick, inky black strands of her's momentarily slick into place before falling back down as if to perfectly frame that darling face of her's.

It's almost unfair how she looks like a dream at times.

"Don't say such demeaning things like that about yourself," Winters was saying, completely oblivious to his derailing thoughts, "Of course, you are someone special... you're you." Then, she looks at him, straight in the eye, "And you are mine, are you not?"

Mine.

You are mine.

Despite everything, Alastor can't help the giddy smile tugging at his mouth at her words; those were his thoughts the first time he laid his eyes on her, in a time that felt like long ago after everything.

It... kind of made him feel closer to her.

Thank you Winters, he almost wants to say.

"You know, if you ever get bored of being a monster-hunter, you can go for being a motivational speaker," Alastor tells her instead and ends up snickering even if it earns him a light smack on the shoulder, and an equally irritated Winters politely asking him to please shut up.