YOU'VE BREATHED YOUR LAST!

(After election season, Ryoma hopes to change that. He hopes to change many things between them.)

When Saizo barely pulls away, Ryoma takes this as his cue to move as well. The moment he loses that contact, every part of Ryoma wants to lean back into him. He moves to the kitchen and opens the fridge.

"Water is fine for now. Wine later, maybe? Or we can save it for later this week." There's a small shrug of his shoulders. His day wasn't so stressful that he needed to chase it with a few glasses of wine but it might be nice to indulge, even if it was only a little bit. "I'll leave that up to you."

However, Saizo needed help, and Ryoma was happy to oblige. Spending time with him wasn't easy, but Ryoma needed to pretend that nothing had changed. He was groping blindly in the dark for a life that didn't belong to him, to a man more worthy of Saizo's loyalty.

"I believe that should be enough. It's a shame we can't get authentic ingredients, but I suppose Hoshido is quite far away." The homesickness hadn't lessened, even in the nearly two years he'd spent in Fódlan. He wondered if it would ever pass.

He only had so much of the Hoshidan spices with him and his stash was slowly dwindling. Perhaps he could take a small trip back to Hoshido and stock up though the time it would take to go there and back hardly seemed worth it in the end. Saizo was still learning to make due with what he had access to in Fodlan.

It was his tone, her encounter with Takumi, and believing that Saizo was too loyal to have stayed away that kept her tone carefully schooled of emotions.

"I was unaware there was anyone here I needed to inform," she replied, voice tight. She would never be as good as her mother or Ryoma at exercising her voice to keep all emotion from it. Her anger was bleeding through. If she started crying again in front of her brother's retainer, Dawn Dragon strike her down on the spot. No more tears. "It is unfortunate to hear about the pirate problem though."

That he expected advance word of her arrival though... It was becoming clear to her that this was not the Saizo she knew. A headache was starting to form. The offer to show her around also implied knowledge of someone who had been here for a time already. Trying to present the image of being unaffected (she was failing horribly, she knew), Hinoka brushed the skirts of her dress and gestured for Saizo to lead on.

"There wasn't... I just thought seeing a familiar face might have been reassuring, especially in a new place." He may not be her retainer or someone who held importance to her personally, but he still felt obligated to serve the rest of Hoshido's royal family by association. "My apologies."

The ninja remains still and silent as he looks at her, simply waiting for her to take his offer or reject it. He was trying to be helpful though if she wanted him to make himself scarce, he could vanish without a trace. Ninja were good at that. His arms cross over his chest for a moment, and when she gestures him forward, he begins walking down the hallway through the entrance hall.

Perhaps more so.

Fingers drum rapidly against the hilt of his sword. Naga above, he hates sitting idly by! If the safety of the young girl wasn't at stake, he'd stride blade-first into the auction right now, cutting down all who dare support this heinous act.

Leaves rustle a split second before Saizo appears. Laslow, to his credit, doesn't flinch as the smoke dissipates. While he can't claim he spent any significant amount of time around Kaze, one quickly becomes accustomed to an ally appearing or disappearing with such flare.

Following Saizo's gaze, he notes the bars with a frown. Anger burns hot in his chest; if only he could act on the authority of a King in this realm!

"The auction itself won't start for another hour or so," Laslow replies, gesturing towards the guards stationed near the front of the house. "I overhead them speaking with another nobleman. There is a rumor that there will be a, ah, demonstration of the remarkable tears before bidding begins."

He shudders with revulsion. Even repeating the information makes him feel gross. "I could, of course, charm my way in. Say I'm running terribly late and I simply must make it up to my date." A trace of humor enters his voice--it's the only way he knows how to keep his ire at bay.

Climbing up the house is out of the question. Not only do heights make him nervous, the risk of exposure is far too great. He heaves a sigh.

"Hopefully we'll be in and out before that happens but as of right now, our main priority will be finding a way inside." If they thought of something else that didn't require them to set foot into the large manor, then great, but for now their options felt limited.

His brows furrow at the suggestion, and for a moment, the ninja is unsure if other is serious, but gives Laslow a pointed look anyways. Always the serious one. There was no room for error, Saizo wouldn't allow for it.

"The lighting towards the back of the manor is more dim, we can use that to our advantage." The ninja crosses his arms over his chest and his gaze shifts over towards the front entrance. There were plenty of guards at the door. "When I was inspecting the window, I didn't see very many guards that way either but rotation might have changed. Let's go investigate."

It’s been a while since Sakura decide to take a chance on a peculiar restaurant in a nearby town, not so far from the monastery: it was a small place, quite ordinary on the outside, but their specialities were two –breakfasts and beatings. Of course the petite priestess was more interested in the former, since she was a huge fun of sweets and delicious breakfasts and to be sure to spend some quality time inside that restaurant, she accepted the offering of one of the retainer of Ryoma to accompany her – Saizo. She knew him quite well, despite she hasn't spent much time in his presence, but like any other retainer, she considered every one of them part of the family and what a greater occasion to spend some time with him, if not with a lovely breakfast?

Joyous and excited, the petite princess showed up on time right in front of the entrance of the restaurant, patiently waiting for her companion to come: as she waited, she started to examine the restaurant window, observing the delicacies exposed on some silver trays, elegantly placed in a way that certainly rapture the glance of the passerby –and certainly the one of Sakura. She was so concentrated and absorbed on the thought of enjoying those breakfasts, that she almost didn’t notice the arrival of Saizo.

“Oh!” she blinked, as she noticed his image reflected in the glass of the window, “You’re here” she turned as she spoke, delicately smiling as to greet him. “I hope you’re ready to enjoy some delicious meals!” she giggled, actually perfectly aware of the fact that he didn’t like sweets, the exact contrary of her. “But I’m sure they serve salt breakfasts too” she nodded, knowing that the menu was quite extravagant, so salty and sweet were mixed together to create the perfect offering. She began to walk closer to the entrance, placing a hand on the handle.

He approaches Sakura from behind, giving her a short nod of his head in greeting as she turned around to greet him with that soft smile of hers. Saizo still didn't understand the appeal of sweets, let alone having them the first thing in the morning, but when she had expressed her desire to come to a potentially dangerous place, who was he to let her go by herself? The ninja's brows furrow, just a touch, as they get closer to the entrance, and from inside he can already hear loud crashes. "Don't worry about me, Lady Sakura. I'm just here to make sure you're safe, but if you'd prefer I find something to eat with you, I'll comply." Regardless, Saizo was content to just sit with her to (hopefully) deter anyone from pulling her into a fight.

"Have you been here before?" It's a simple question, mostly asked out of curiosity. He'd heard about the restaurant growing in popularity among other faculty and staff but hadn't been able to justify going until he'd volunteered to accompany her. "I've heard it's growing in popularity."

He's surprised that Saizo and his king have never discussed things. Is that Ryoma as cowardly as the Ryoma of now? He doubts it, but then, why would he give up on Saizo? It makes such little sense, that Ryoma wishes he could ask himself about it.

"Would you want to talk about it?" Selfishly, Ryoma hopes Saizo doesn't. He hopes that it's over between his other self and Saizo. However, he knows this is irrational. He knows it could never be - they could never be. At least if Ryoma encourages Saizo to return to his king, then in a sense, it would fulfill Ryoma too. After all, it is the right thing to do.

At the question, Saizo pauses for a moment and allows a quiet sigh to escape. Talking would clear some of the air, likely make things less complicated too but there's hardly anything he can think of that would justify bringing it up.

"I don't know what good talking would do us now," besides continue to stir up old feelings. Saizo feels as though enough has happened in Fodlan to cause that. Behind his mask, his mouth opens and then closes before he can ask the other why the Ryoma from his time hadn't asked to talk at all. He seemed to be doing that a lot. He'd have words on the tip of his tongue and force silence.

As a way to keep one of his hands occupied, Saizo runs his fingers through his hair and rests his arms back on the stone railing. A sigh leaves his lips and after another moment or so of forced silence, Saizo decides to throw caution to the wind.

"I'm glad you made it safely. You'll have to let your father know too." Saizo doesn't want to think about how Kaze would have reacted if she hadn't. Luckily, he doesn't have to. He watches as Midori digs through one of the many drawers and wondered if her equipment or tools needed to be replaced soon... It was omething to think about for the future.

When he's handed the piece of paper, Saizo holds it carefully as not to risk tearing it and skims over the ingredients. The ninja knew very little about herbs and medicine in general, but he recognized the names on her list. The smile underneath his mask grows ever-so-slightly wider, and he nods his head. "A lot of them grow in the forests and mountains. In between training and missions, the other young ninja and I used to collect them for the herbalists."

He gives the recipe back to his niece, eye locking on her for a split second in an attempt at reading her expression while she rocks on her heels. Unable to discern any worry from her expression, Saizo gives her a short but affirmative nod of his head. "As if I would be able to replicate it myself. You've got talent and I'd feel like a bad uncle if I didn't encourage it." The ninja replies, tucking the jar and pouch of spices into the leather pouch he kept at his hip. "Once I run out, I'll let you know."

Her father and uncle must have their own correspondence, but she thinks her father might be happy to hear that she's completed her mission right away, and that she and her uncle are now both here to watch out for each other.

It'd be better if he were actually here in person, of course. If all of their family were here, and there's no war, and they could all just live happily together. But they're all adults now, and had their own plans with life, and Midori can't interfere with that. As long as she has friends and her uncle here, she can be happy with that too!

At Saizo's reassurance that he'll continue to have need of her skills, and at his offer of more accompaniment, Midori gives a cheer.

"Yay!! I'd love it if you can show me around!" She bounces around him in excitement, accustomed enough to the heavy cabinet at her back that it hardly hampers her movements at all. She's still got some things she needs to unpack, sure, but she can do that on her own time without bothering her uncle over it. More importantly, she gets to spend all afternoon with him, and have dinner together too!

Hoisting her cabinet more securely against her shoulders, Midori beams up at her uncle.

Whether or not this could be considered a good gift was still up in the air. But Shiro had a good head on his shoulders, and despite the decision to take it, at least they were both in agreement. Saizo did understand the diplomacy angle, and it's likely he would have reminded the younger man of the same thing but he was proud that he hadn't needed to.

"Hm?" Saizo hummed, setting the book flat on the desk to flip to the page Shiro directed him to. Page 12... In bold font at the top of the page read Loudly declare your motivations to everyone within earshot. Another sigh passes through his lips. "That might explain some of the students shouting in the courtyard this afternoon." He takes the book in his hands and starts flipping through the pages now, looking for something else just as ridiculous as what they'd pointed out already.

the heavier and more intricate the armor, the more outstanding your reputation. pauldrons, bevors, and gorgets of a considerable size should be worn — if not for defense—but to demonstrate one's esteemed rank and status.

for whatever reason, that portion's been underlined.

in doing so, your peers shall look to you with great respect. see to it that yours comprise of a design most intricate and eye-catching, for this shall showcase your noble roots in a modest manner that requires no prompting, unless another party wishes to bring it up in polite small talk. then, may you speak freely.

it doesn't take long for the prince to lean back in his seat, replying only with a low whistle. a polite way of stating the obvious: this book is going to get someone killed.

saizo must be thinking the same thing, right? "Loudly declare your motivations to everyone within earshot." how exactly would that help someone in battle? stay there, foe! i'm going to cut you down! yeah! just stand right where you are and don't move, or else i won't be able to get a good shot in. i need you there so i can drive this blade straight into your gut. do me a solid and don't move because i want to getcha!

real fights don't work that way.

"The heavier and more intricate the armor, the more outstanding your reputation." clangclangclang. shiro can see (and hear) it now: an overzealous figure moving painfully slow, only to tip over comedically into the dirt. flailing helplessly as he struggles to stand under the weight of all he carries, calling out desperately for help.

some reputation.

"No. Saizo, I will not accept that apology. You died for a fool prince who should have given up long before things escalated so far." He should have told Saizo and Kagero to leave. Maybe then, maybe then. It's difficult not to consider those what ifs, not when one of those questions stands before him.

"And I should not have had anyone to walk that path with me. Even if you had survived..." Saizo would have insisted on going with Ryoma. He would have insisted that Saizo stays behind. Which of their wills would have won out?

The question hangs there, with no end. They likely both know the answer.

Ryoma sucks in his breath when Saizo asks the question he had been dreading. "They are both gone." He wants to tug at the whistle, to feel the cool metal in his palm as the comfort he lost the rights to. Instead, his nails bite into his palm.

He hadn't left Kagero behind when she'd been taken by Kotaru and Mokushujin ninja, and then he hadn't stopped looking for Ryoma afterwards when he'd supposedly gone missing to help the resistance forces led by Scarlet. A sigh passes through his lips. It's not exasperated, nor is he frustrated. It's a deep breath in, and then back out, still focused on keeping himself calm as he shifted his weight atop the dresser to lean his back against the wall behind him.

"Did you leave them in Jugdral or were they tossed to the bottom of the sea floor?" His tone wasn't accusatory, but there was a crack in his composure, perhaps in his voice as well. His brows furrow and he looks down at his hands as he begins fidgeting with the knots that hold his armor in place. "Why let them go in the first place?"

Saizo couldn't imagine that he would have let any of the bandits or cultists steal them but it was still a possibility. Taking another moment to think on it, where those things had been left matters less to him than why. The whistle was the last belonging he had to remember his Saizo by, and the way he'd clutched it so tightly on the boat ride still made it difficult to believe.

Perhaps the Saizo that stands before him had this conversation with his Ryoma. Maybe they had left on good terms. It's possible Saizo is offering Ryoma the same opportunity for closure.

"Of course I did. With the war, I didn't have the time to take care of us and Hoshido." The grief of Mikoto and Corrin had been too fresh, too. That wouldn't have been the case for Saizo's king - not completely, at least.

"I'm not sure if this would have been the case on your path, but there had been times during the war where it never felt like it ended. It was selfish of me, but I needed you." On instinct, his hand reaches for something around his neck. Ryoma's hand falls away.

"My plan had always been to go back to you once the war had ended. As we both know, the war ended with my death." Ryoma's voice feels detached from it all. He searches for a feeling, but they all feel too far to grasp. Just like the whistle. His fingers find purchase in his palms, instead.

Saizo frowned as Ryoma reached for where the whistle normally laid against his chest. It was still in Jugdral. Buried by the dessert sand or frozen atop snowy mountains. Maybe one of those cultists or bandits found it? There was a part of him that was willing to make the journey back to go find it for him. Or find some sort of replacement for him though Saizo doubts whatever he could think of to offer would be the same. "That was the same in my timeline as well. I needed you too, it just made things a little more messy."

Was that the right word? It hadn't made it difficult to do his work or follow orders, and they both sought each other out, but when the lines blurred, it hadn't made anything less confusing. It fueled a small spark of hope that they'd get back together again. "After the war ended, he became busy with his duties as king. We never talked about it. I'm not sure that we would if I were to go back."

"Mm, let's just say you've grown predictable." Ryoma sits his hands on Saizo's shoulders as they kiss. It's too short but truthfully, no length of time would be enough for Ryoma. He instead settles on kissing the end of Saizo's nose. "I've missed you too. My work isn't as thrilling as spending time with you." Another kiss, this time to Saizo's cheek.

His arms find Ryoma's waist again and he allows a quiet hum to escape as he gives a nod of his head. "I imagine dealing with stuffy politicians all day doesn't add to what little excitement there must be already." It's another few moments or before Saizo barely pulls away.

Saizo squeezes Ryoma's hand again, and all thought and sense have left his mind. Saizo had been happy, even if he was only fulfilling a purpose. That's such a Saizo mindset. Had they been a duty? No; if anything, what they had must have been a hindrance. Not that it had been much of that, either.

Go somewhere more quiet. He supposes there are still things to discuss. Ryoma isn't blind to it, not completely, but it's hard to imagine the conversation will be good. Ryoma nods. "Of course." He releases Saizo's waist, and he takes in a breath as if it's the first breath he's taken all night.

If only it were that simple. It needed to be. He wanted it to be.

Saizo follows Ryoma quietly, expertly weaving through the crowds of students and other faculty. He can feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch. It's his nerves. Saizo knows it is. The last thing he wants is to get off on the wrong foot, so when the cold air hits him, he reminds himself that he needs to breath and keep himself calm.

Once they are finally alone and they are out of sight, Saizo is tempted to take Ryoma's hand in his again. Instead, his fingers simply ghost against his in a small attempt to guide him towards the stone railing of the balcony. They still probably had things they needed to talk about or questions they needed to ask but now there is nothing for him to do except throw caution to the wind.