#ateots

☾

“Oikawa…he’s coming.”

Shoyo’s blood turned to ice. “…What? How do you know?”

“The curse. It helps him find me. He didn’t bother before, but now that I’ve failed, he’s going to come for me. I…I have to…” Still leaning on the doorframe, Tobio stumbled over the threshold and into the house, leaving Shoyo to hurry after him.

His breath caught when Tobio made his way towards the room they’d shared…and turned to the door across from it. It was the door to the only room in the whole house he hadn’t seen, the only promise he’d managed to keep despite everything. He’d always been aware of the latch at the opening edge of the shoji screen, but not the minuscule keyhole below it.

Tobio plucked an even smaller key from the top of the screen and fumbled to fit it into the hole, his hands shaking as he finally got it to click into place and slide open the screen. He began to step inside, only to pause when his eyes landed on Shoyo and widened, as though he’d forgotten about him in his clumsy panic. “Um…you can come in,” he muttered, his cheeks growing pink beneath his averted eyes. Shoyo could only nod and silently follow him in.

Inside was an almost-perfect mirror of his own room: the same dresser, the same lamp on top, the same closet and small window. But where Shoyo’s room had come to feel lived-in over the months, this one felt…cold, even a bit dusty. The only signs that the room had been used were the hastily-folded blankets in the cracked-open closet and the bow and arrows propped in the corner. A chill slid down Shoyo’s spine at the realization that those were the bow and arrows that had killed the shape-shifting man and gotten Tobio cursed.

Shoyo was silent and still as a statue while Tobio bustled around the room, digging out a pack from the closet and shoving items from the dresser into it. Once he tied it closed, he knotted a leather strap around his neck and took out a fine set of clothes. When he pulled on the hakama that went under the matching kimono and turned around, Shoyo wasn’t surprised to see a familiar blue stone hanging from the necklace.

His attention was quickly pulled to Tobio’s face at the sound of a soft grunt, and he found him grimacing as his hand rose to his chest. His movements had loosened the wax from the wounds it had burned into his skin, but the burns themselves were still there, pulling tight every time he tried to raise his arm.

Guilt was sour on Shoyo’s tongue as he hurried over and lowered Tobio’s hand. “Let me,” he whispered, taking the clothes from his hands. Tobio’s tense features slowly relaxed as Shoyo helped him slip into the underrobes and the deep blue kimono over it. “It was yours,” Shoyo realized, looking up at Tobio’s confused expression.

“What?”

“The kimono you gave me. That’s why it’s big on me—it was tailored down from yours.”

Just like that, Tobio’s confusion was replaced by a bright red blush and averted eyes. “Um…yeah.”

“Did you want us to match?” Shoyo asked innocently as he belted the obi around Tobio’s trim waist.

“I didn’t want to ask Nee-san to get a new kimono,” Tobio mumbled, keeping his gaze fixed on Shoyo’s busy hands instead of his eyes. “And…I didn’t…mind matching with you.”

His gruff bashfulness was so much more endearing when Shoyo could see it creep over his human features. He loved him so much, he almost couldn’t breathe from it, and he couldn’t resist leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Me too,” he whispered, smiling when Tobio finally met his gaze with wide eyes.

With the last ties secured, Shoyo smoothed down the folds of the kimono with a quiet, “All done.”

Before he could step away, Tobio caught his face in gentle hands and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” he murmured with another kiss. He winced as he let Shoyo go, his hands leaving his cheeks to rub at his own chest over his heart. “Shit…he’s almost here.”

He scooped up his pack with one hand and grabbed Shoyo’s hand with the other, leading the way back outside…only to freeze on the engawa.

He suddenly turned to face Shoyo, who could only watch him with wide eyes. “Shoyo,” he muttered urgently, gently holding his cheeks, “go back inside and stay there. When he gets here, he can’t see you. I don’t know what he’ll try to do to you.”

“What? No! I’m not hiding!” Shoyo didn’t care about how childish he sounded—he only cared about staying by Tobio’s side and keeping him safe.

“You’re not hiding. You’re letting me protect you.”

“I don’t need protection!” He grabbed at Tobio’s hands, keeping them pressed to his cheeks. “I’m a samurai, I’ve been training, I can fight!”

“I know you can, but not against him.”

“Just let me—”

“Quit arguing and listen to me, dumbass.” Despite everything, despite his panic and annoyance, there was still a note of affection in Tobio’s voice. “When we leave, wait for an hour, and then go home. Take care of your family, of Natsu. Go back to your work, be a samurai, live your life again.”

“What about you? How will I see you again?”

That made Tobio pause, doubt and grief flickering over his face before he shook his head. “You can’t. I don’t know what Oikawa will do to me, but he can’t see you. He can’t know who you are.”

Shoyo shook his head furiously, clinging to Tobio’s hands at his cheeks. “No! No, I’ll come find you, I can save you, just like you saved Natsu!”

“You can’t, Shoyo. Even if I wanted you to, it’s impossible. Oikawa’s palace is at the end of the sun. No mortal human can find it, not unless he wants them to.” Tobio rested his forehead against Shoyo’s, his sigh ruffling his ginger strands. “I’m not worth it, Sho. Go live your life again. Soon, this’ll all just be a distant memory.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Shoyo’s throat was growing tight around the threat of tears, but he didn’t care. He just needed Tobio to believe him. “Do you want to see me again?”

“What? Yeah, of course I do. But—”

“Then I’ll come for you. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll come for you, I swear.”

Tobio pulled away and stared at him, eyes flickering over his features as though he were trying to memorize them, before he pressed their lips together in a deep, lingering kiss. Then, before Shoyo’s eyes could fully open again, he was being pushed back further into the house. By the time he stopped stumbling over the mats, the doors had slid shut, and he could hear the sound of the storm panels closing as well.

He moved to wrench the screens open, when thunder rumbled over the house. Light flashed through the tiny gap between the closed doors, bright and quick enough that Shoyo would’ve believed it was lightning if he hadn’t just seen the clear sky.

“Oh my…I’d forgotten how…quaint your little home away from home was.”

“Oikawa-sama.”

“Why, hello, little prince.” The new voice was smooth, charming, with a venomous edge that made a shiver run down Shoyo’s spine. “My, aren’t you handsome in the sunlight? I’d almost forgotten. Although the moonlight really does suit you so well.”

Tobio remained silent. Shoyo wished he could see what he looked like—all he could imagine was his wolf form, sitting with his ears flat against his head and his fur rising around his neck.

“You’re being awfully spare with your words.”

“What is there to say?” Tobio finally answered, his voice low and rough. “I’ve failed the conditions to break the curse. Aren’t you going to take me away somewhere and punish me more?”

“Goodness, princeling, show some patience. We’ll get to my lovely abode, all in good time. Let me look around, see how you’ve settled in. It really has been so long since my last visit.”

Princeling? Little prince? How strange. Tobio could be a bit gruff and demanding sometimes, but Shoyo didn’t think that warranted so many nicknames.

“There…there really isn’t much to see…sir. L-like you said, it’s a small home.”

“Then that’ll make it easier for me to find what I’m looking for.”

“…Sir?”

“Let’s see here…”

“Sir…sir, wait!”

A gust of wind suddenly blew Shoyo back, sending him sprawling over the floor as the shoji screens and storm panels opened with loud clacks.

There, standing in front of a stricken Tobio, was a tall, handsome man. “Handsome” didn’t feel quite right, though. “Pretty” suited him better: soft chestnut hair fell over his face in a careful tousle, and glinting brown eyes peered from beneath. His smooth skin, free of any scars or blemishes, straight nose, and delicate pink lips made him look even more regal than Tobio.

His kimono only added to the air of royalty about him, with its intricate gold embroidery sewn into glistening silk. Shoyo had only once seen a color quite like it: not quite green, not quite blue. It was like the sea on a sunny day.

Like the candle his mother had given him.

“There you are,” the man murmured in that charming, frightening voice. He stepped gracefully onto the engawa, his raised sandals clicking across the dark wood before the sound became dulled on the tatami mats. Shoyo couldn’t move, helpless to the man’s approach.

“Oikawa-sama—”

“Quiet.” The word was curt and firm, with none of the false charm that had colored his voice before.

Part of Shoyo hadn’t wanted to believe that this was Oikawa. When he’d imagined the cruel, powerful sorcerer who had cursed Tobio, he’d imagined someone much older and more frightening, not this pretty young man now standing in front of him.

“Would you look at that hair,” Oikawa murmured with something like awe. He crouched in front of Shoyo and played with a lock of his hair, as though he were a doll and not a living human. “I’m amazed you managed to go so long without seeing our prince—this hair could have lit up even the darkest of rooms.”

Words were beyond Shoyo, not that Oikawa seemed interested in what he had to say. He grasped Shoyo’s chin and tilted his face up, looking over his features with an almost clinical gaze. “I suppose you are handsome, in a humble way. And you must be strong, if you’re a samurai. Ah!” Oikawa suddenly looked over his shoulder with a dangerous smile. “Is that why you chose him, princeling? Wanted a bit of home with you?”

Home? Shoyo’s gaze finally drifted from Oikawa to Tobio, who was standing, frozen, on the engawa. “N-no, I didn’t— he was just—”

“I’m not a ronin,” Shoyo finally spoke up, his voice hoarse from fear. “I serve the daimyo of this domain.”

Oikawa didn’t look upset at being corrected. No, he looked…delighted. “You don’t know?”

“Oikawa-sama—”

“Tell me, little samurai. Do you know his name?”

Indignance flared in Shoyo’s chest. “Of course I do. His name is Tobio.”

“And his family name?”

“I—! I…” He looked back at Tobio, his heart sinking at the look of pure fear on those handsome features. What was his family name? Why hadn’t he told him?

“His family name is Kageyama. The same Kageyamas that you so proudly serve.”

A shard of ice sliced straight through Shoyo’s heart. “W…what?”

“Oh, yes. Your lovely companion here is Tobio Kageyama, grandson and heir of the daimyo.” The grandiose nature of Oikawa’s words made an unnerving contrast to the disdainful curl in his lip. “I’m not in the habit of cursing any given person. No no, only spoiled heirs who kill the love of my life and won’t have to deal with any consequences.”

Another piece in this whole, confusing puzzle snapped into place, making Shoyo feel sick with how foolish he’d been. Of course, of course…it all made sense. That was why his name had sounded so familiar: not only because he was a friend from a distant memory, but because he was the daimyo’s heir. He’d only ever heard of him—by the time Shoyo was old enough to be allowed to work directly with the daimyo and his family, the princess had already gotten married and the prince had gone missing.

The fear on Tobio’s face was quickly giving way to a dark, silent fury aimed at the back of Oikawa’s head. If the sorcerer noticed, then he simply didn’t care. But at Shoyo’s quiet, “Tobio…?”, those dark blue eyes snapped to his, and he watched the fury melt into guilt. “Sho, I didn’t…I couldn’t…”

“All this time? Even when we were kids?”

“I’m sorry,” Tobio whispered, entreaty shaking in every word. “You were the only one who liked me, not my position. I…I didn’t want you to treat me like—”

“Oh, do spare me,” Oikawa cut him off with a sigh. “I think we’ve lingered here long enough. It was a…delight to finally meet you, little samurai. Well done tolerating this murderous, sniveling fool.” He stood up in a quiet, musical ruffle of his silken kimono, deliberately bumping into Tobio’s shoulder as he went back outside. “Come, Tobio-chan.”

Tobio started to follow him, only to abruptly freeze. Shoyo still wasn’t used to reading his human body language, didn’t know what to make of the slow ascent of his shoulders.

Then Tobio whirled back around and surged towards Shoyo, falling to his knees in front of him. “Tobi—?”

He didn’t let Shoyo finish—he pressed their lips together in a slow, tender kiss that made Shoyo’s eyes sting with tears. Tobio pulled away with a breathed, “I love you,” and then, before Shoyo could even finish saying his name, he hurried back outside to stand next to an impassive Oikawa.

“W-wait!” Shoyo choked out, scrambling across the floor to the porch. It was too late: a single snap of Oikawa’s fingers was all it took for the sorcerer to disappear with Tobio in tow, with another flash of light and a thunderous rumble.

Shoyo could only stare at the now-empty space, not yet able to comprehend what had just happened.

He was alone. He had broken his promise, ruined Tobio’s chances at breaking his curse, and now he was alone.

And the worst part was, he was lucky. Tobio could have run off as soon as Shoyo broke his trust, but instead he stayed, explained everything, held him and kissed him and whispered tender words to him. It had almost been enough to let Shoyo forget the danger, but then the shock of Oikawa’s arrival and Tobio’s departure with him was made that much worse.

Frustration filled him when he felt tears welling up again—he was a soldier, a samurai, why was he crying so much? But no amount of anger with himself could keep the tears from overflowing, nor could it keep a sob from bursting forth.

His whole body ached from the sobs wracking through him. It was like every heave of his shoulders, every tremble of his chest, and every quiver of his lips and clench of his jaw were chipping away at his heart and leaving behind a deep, gaping, hollow space. He had never felt such pure, devastating heartbreak before. He didn’t know it was possible to hurt so much without a scratch on his body.

Shoyo didn’t know how long he stayed curled over the floor, soaking the engawa with his tears and clutching at his chest to drag in air between his sobs. Time meant nothing. Even when he had nothing left to cry, he didn’t get up; he just fell into his own tears and let his exhausted body pull him under.

The sun had reached the peak of the sky when the sound of hooves roused Shoyo from his sleep. He shot upright, and his heart leapt with hope at the sight of dark hair and blue eyes…only for him to realize that they belonged to Tobio’s sister. “Sorry I’m back so soon, I completely forgot— Hinata-kun? Is everything ok?”

Shoyo tried to speak, tried to greet her, but when he opened his mouth to say “Hi, Nee-san,” all that escaped was a hoarse sob.

“Hinata?! What’s wrong?” She quickly dismounted and hurried to kneel next to him on the engawa, taking his face in her hands and gently swiping away his tears with her thumbs. When Shoyo couldn’t get the air to speak, understanding and dread slowly fell over her face. “Hinata…where’s my brother?”

“Nee-san…Nee-san, I messed up. I was so stupid.”

“Shhhh, don’t say that. Tell me what happened.”

So he did. He told her about his visit home, and his mother sniffing out the truth about the wolf. He told her about the candle, and how he’d held strong after coming back, only to give in to the anxious urge to light the candle after a month and look at the impossible man he’d fallen in love with.

“He was upset,” Shoyo murmured. “Of course he was: I’d broken our promise. But he still…he still stayed, and he still tried to explain everything. I broke our promise, and he still stayed with me until the morning. But then the sun started rising, and he said Oikawa would come looking for him, and…and he did, he was right, he came and he took him away. I don’t…I don’t know if he’s ever coming back. What if he gets killed? What if we never see each other—?”

“Oh, Hinata-kun…”

Maybe he should’ve felt foolish, allowing his tears to be wiped away and his face to be pressed into a warm shoulder as if he were a baby. But nothing could ease the guilt and grief rushing through him, leaving him hollow until all he could do was cling to her as she drew soothing paths up and down his back. “I’m sorry,” he wept, words muffled in her warm, finely-embroidered hanten. “I’m so sorry, Nee-san, this was all my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Her voice was surprisingly firm, as were her hands as she took Shoyo’s face and pulled him away just enough to stare into his eyes. “It’s not solely your fault. Yes, you broke your promise, but it was an unfair promise to ask of you. You came to my brother and stayed with him, accepted his transformations and dodgy explanations, and let him sleep next to you without ever seeing his face, for months. I don’t think I could have lasted that long, and he’s my baby brother.”

Her thumbs brushed gentle curves over his damp cheeks as her dark eyes flickered over his face. Whatever she saw made her sigh, before she murmured, “You did so much, Shoyo, and on top of all that, you loved him. And he loved you, too. He loved you so much that he couldn’t believe you could feel the same for him. He didn’t think he was worth it.”

“But he—”

“I know. I know what he did for you. And I know what you did for him. You’re…you’re the best thing that could have happened to him. I feel awful asking more of you, but—”

“More of me?” Shoyo interrupted, tendrils of hope breaking through his guilt. “Is…is there something I can do?”

She bit her lip, doubt creasing her face as another sigh heaved out of her. “Did he tell you not to follow them?”

“Yes.”

“And you still want to find him?”

“Of course!”

“He was right to try and stop you. No one knows where the sorcerer’s palace is. Even if they did, it doesn’t mean they’d actually be able to reach it. The journey there could be long and dangerous, and it could all lead to nothing. Do you still want to go?”

Shoyo’s jaw clenched as he nodded resolutely. Guilt-ridden relief spilled across her face, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Then go,” she whispered in a harsh plea. “Find my brother. Bring him back home.”

“Okay…I will, Nee-san. I promise. But I have to go home first.” Dread and anticipation clashed in his chest at the thought of returning home and telling his mother everything that had happened.

“Oh, of course! Go pack. I’ll take you.”

“Really?!”

“Yes.” A kind, sad smile pulled at her lips. “With the terms of the curse being broken…we don't know how long the magic in the stones will last, if at all. If we hurry on horseback, we might be able to get you back before it’s too late.”

Adrenaline flooded Shoyo’s veins, and he jerked his head in a nod before running inside. He’d never before changed so quickly, shoving off his scant nightclothes in favor of warmer robes and haori, before stuffing his few belongings into his pack. Only two things gave him pause: the candle and Tobio’s bow and arrows.

Take them, some part of his subconscious whispered, you don’t know what they could mean to Mom and Tobio.

And so, with his stomach tightening into a knot, he wrapped the half-melted candle and tucked it into his pack, and slung Tobio’s bow and arrows next to his own. When he stepped back outside, bearing two bows, his katana and dagger, and his pack, Tobio’s sister raised her brows. “I figured you’d packed light,” she remarked as Shoyo swung himself behind her on the horse, “but I didn’t think you mostly had weapons.”

“One of the bows is Tobio’s,” Shoyo murmured.

“…Ah. Then…thank you. For keeping it safe.”

“Of course.”

With that, she nudged her horse into motion. Shoyo turned back to gaze at the house for as long as possible, but once they crossed into the forest, it didn’t take long to vanish from sight.

Gone was the house that had become a home for him and Tobio. Gone was the place where they had fallen in impossible love. He didn’t think about when he would see it next, or if he would ever see it again. He didn’t think about it at all.

☾

The silence that fell was suffocating in its totality. It only lasted a few heartbeats, but Shoyo still felt pinned to the floor even though Oikawa no longer held him down.

Then, a single, heartbreaking sob tore free as Oikawa scrambled to his feet and rushed to where Iwaizumi stood, just steps from the closed entrance to the hall. He only slowed when he was just out of arm’s reach, taking careful, nervous steps towards the ghost of his lover. His hand shuddered between them, until finally, his fingertips brushed the rough material of Iwaizumi’s yukata. His gasp quivered through the silence when he was able to press his hand to Iwaizumi’s chest.

All at once, Oikawa dissolved into tears as he threw himself into Iwaizumi’s arms, nearly sending the spirit stumbling backwards from the force of the embrace. “Careful,” Iwaizumi chuckled softly, only audible thanks to the silent disbelief of their audience.

“Shut up and hold me,” Oikawa sniffled into his hair.

Iwaizumi’s shaky smile slid off of his face, and his arms tightened around Oikawa. He didn’t cry, but Shoyo saw his lip tremble before he buried his face into Oikawa’s shoulder. Iwaizumi was the slightest bit shorter than Oikawa, a detail that might have made Shoyo smile if he hadn’t been petrified from shock and fear.

They didn’t say anything, just stood and held each other, rocking ever-so-slightly on their feet as though cradling each other to sleep. When Oikawa spoke again, his voice was so soft, it seemed to slip through the cracks in the silence rather than break it. “How?”

“Hm?”

“How are you here? How am I holding you?” Oikawa peeled himself away just enough to look Iwaizumi in the eye. Even that tiny bit of distance seemed to pain him. “Is…is this a dream? Ow! Why?!”

“Now you know you’re not dreaming,” Iwaizumi huffed with a smirk, hand rubbing soothing circles where he had pinched Oikawa’s waist.

“Then how are you here?! I…I cremated you, I saw you die, you died in my arms, it’s been six years, Iwa—”

“I know,” Iwaizumi hushed him. He pressed their foreheads together and cupped Oikawa’s cheeks in the gentlest cradle, thumbs brushing over the arch of his cheekbones. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be.” Oikawa’s petulant pout melted into wide-eyed awe when he pulled back to properly look at Iwaizumi, fingers tracing over his features with a gentle touch that was viscerally familiar to Shoyo. “You look the same.”

“Yeah…”

“Six years, and you look the same.”

“Of course I do, stupid. I can’t age.” Oikawa’s face crumpled at the frank statement, and Iwaizumi’s guilt was clear in his hurried words. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“How are you here, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi didn’t answer for a moment, just cradled Oikawa’s face and gazed into his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “I’m here because I’m trapped. I can’t move on.”

“What…? Why?”

“Tooru…why did you curse Kageyama?”

It was unsettling, how quickly Oikawa’s features shuttered off at the name. His eyes flickered to where Tobio was creeping across the floor to reach Shoyo, but shot back to Iwaizumi as though drawn by magnets. “For you,” he murmured. “He killed you, Iwa. He had to pay.”

“Right…for me. How long have we…how long did we know each other?”

Oikawa flinched, though whether from the disapproving tone of Iwaizumi’s voice or his use of past tense, it was hard to tell. “...For as long as I can remember.”

“What did I ever do to make you think I’d want this?”

For a moment, it seemed as though Oikawa’s only answer would be to burrow into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, shielding himself from the eyes of the room and the disapproval of his love. But then, there came a quiet murmur, too soft for Shoyo to hear. It didn’t matter—Iwaizumi’s soft, fond scoff was enough for him to guess what Oikawa said. “Right…you did this for yourself. I get it, I do. I don't know what I would’ve done if I lost you. But you did it in my name, and it’s not right.” He slowly, but firmly, guided Oikawa’s face away from his shoulder, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Let them go. I can’t move on if you don’t let them go.”

“Then don’t,” Oikawa pleaded, “don’t go, Iwa, I won’t let the princeling go, and you can stay! We could have forever with each other, and I won’t have to…I can’t…I don’t know…I…”

“Tooru—!”

“I don’t know how to survive a world without you!” Oikawa choked out a breath before dissolving into tears again. “You can’t ask that of me. Could you do it?”

“I don’t know.” The words were quiet, steady. “Can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“In a way, I feel lucky. I’m lucky that I died first, so I wouldn’t have to grieve for you.”

“Then don’t ask me to do the same!”

“You have to!” Iwaizumi’s voice suddenly became firm and unbending, a sharp contrast to the hands that held Oikawa’s face. “Listen to me, Tooru. You have always been the stronger one of us. You can move past this, I know you can. You’ve already lasted six years without me.”

“I shouldn’t have had to! We should’ve had longer! It’s all that brat’s fault that we don’t, and now you want me to let him go?!”

“All the magic and power in the world couldn’t protect us from bad luck. That’s all this is. He took my life without knowing what he was doing. It was an awful accident, but you can’t take his life in return, not like this. Not on purpose. You’ve already taken six years from him. He almost did what should have been impossible. Let that be enough. Let him go.”

Oikawa didn’t say anything. Instead, his head fell forward until he could lean his forehead against Iwaizumi’s and breathe the same air as him. Shoyo didn’t move, didn’t dare to. He clung to Tobio’s hand, taking comfort in his gentle squeeze to ground himself.

“There’s been a hole in my chest since you died,” Oikawa finally breathed, almost too quiet for Shoyo to hear, “right where my heart should be.”

“Quit being so dramatic,” Iwaizumi scoffed, as though his breaths weren’t shaky from tears.

“It’s true! I’m not…whole without you.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’ll heal, your heart will heal, just like any other wound.” After a sigh, Iwaizumi murmured, “I lost my life, and I’m sorry, Tooru, I’m sorry I left you—”

“Don’t apologize, Iwa, please—”

“—but you can’t lose your life, too. Six years, Tooru. Six years of your life and Kageyama’s. Let that be enough. Let them go, let me go. You won’t be alone. The others want to help you. It doesn’t have to be a new life, just continue growing this one. Please…” Oikawa shook his head, his hair dragging across Iwaizumi’s forehead. “…Please, my heart.”

A small sob fell from Oikawa’s lips. The heartbreaking sound hung in the room, balancing on the choked-up silence of everyone witnessing the painful reunion. And then, in a broken, nearly-inaudible voice, Oikawa whispered, “It’s not up to me.”

Iwaizumi fell suddenly, dangerously still. “...What do you mean?”

“The curse isn’t up to me anymore. It’s still in place because of the lack of trust between them. It can only be truly broken if they can prove that trust is there.”

No. Horror slipped through Shoyo’s veins and turned them to ice, and when he looked at Tobio, he found the same horror. Prove their trust? How? The curse was set so that only a year without seeing Tobio’s face would prove the depth of Shoyo’s trust in him. How on earth could they possibly attempt that again, now that he knew what Tobio looked like? Would Shoyo’s memories need to be wiped? Would Tobio be turned back into a wolf? What would happen to him, if he was cursed again while the former’s effects still lingered in his poor body?

“Then…what do they have to do?” Iwaizumi voiced the question echoing in Shoyo’s mind.

Oikawa opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. His eyes danced over Iwaizumi’s features, soaking them in with a hunger that reminded Shoyo of his own first glimpse at Tobio’s face. “If…if they break the curse and I let them go,” he finally murmured, “then…then will you move on?”

Iwaizumi’s shoulders stiffened. “...Yes. That’s the hope.”

Oikawa took another beat to answer. “You really won’t stay?”

“Tooru, don’t.” Iwaizumi shifted to pull his hands away, only for Oikawa to catch them and keep them pressed to his cheeks. “Let me go.”

“Didn’t you miss me?” Oikawa pleaded, fingers tightening around Iwaizumi’s hands. “Didn’t you miss me when you were wandering this island as a ghost?”

“Of course I did, idiot.”

“Then stay with me! I’ll heal, and you’ll be with me, and it can be like before—”

“No, it can’t,” Iwaizumi said. His voice brooked no argument, but immediately softened when Oikawa’s lip trembled. “The past six years…I’ve been a ghost, Tooru. Dead, but still trapped here. Stuck in a limbo, always the same, while the world kept changing around me. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t let myself come back here and risk anyone seeing me…I couldn’t even touch anything for the first year, not until you finally cremated me. If I stay…I will watch you grow and change, but I will be the same, stuck the way I was when that arrow pierced my heart. You can’t ask me to do that, Tooru. It’s not fair to me, to us.”

His thumb brushed the damp lashes clumping dark along Oikawa’s eye. “I’d rather move on to the next stage and pass the time there until you join me. I’ll wait however long it takes. And it better take a long time. If I see you before twenty years have passed, I’ll kick your ass so hard, you’ll be sent back to your body and wake up from the dead, got it?”

“Geez, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said with a wet laugh, “your threats got more creative as a ghost, huh?”

“Yeah. Just for you.” Iwaizumi’s smile melted into a solemn expression and wide eyes. “So? Will you let them try?”

Oikawa leaned down to rest their foreheads together again as he kept holding on tight to Iwaizumi’s hands. He took a slow, deep breath…and nodded. Relief flooded Shoyo, sweet and overwhelming and unshakable, even under the tired glare the sorcerer pinned on him and Tobio. “You failed to break the curse because of a lack of trust. Find a way to prove it’s there.”

Tobio’s fingers tightened around Shoyo’s, so tight it almost hurt, but his voice was steady when he said, “Yes, sir. Thank you…for the second chance.”

An instinctive sneer curled over Oikawa’s lips, only to fall away when he looked at Iwaizumi again. “I’m not doing it for you. Kindaichi, take them back to his room.”

Kindaichi jolted, as though coming back to himself, before dipping into a bow. “Yes, sir. Um…follow me, please.”

As Shoyo and Tobio slowly rose to their feet, Matsukawa caught Kindaichi by the arm and leaned in to murmur something to him. Kindaichi’s eyes widened, but he nodded, mouth a shaky line. When they left the throne room, Oikawa and Iwaizumi finally looked around at Matsukawa, and Shoyo only caught a glimpse of Matsukawa moving towards Iwaizumi before the wood panels shut behind them.

☾

Tobio was silent on the way to his room, which wasn’t strange. What was strange was the knowledge that he was silent because he was thinking. So Shoyo matched his silence, only distracting him with the pressure of their fingers woven together.

“Food will be brought to you later,” Kindaichi said as he let them back into Tobio’s room, “and I don’t think you’ll have to do your rounds today. Should I bring Kunimi to look at anything?”

Shoyo shook his head, holding his tongue until Kindaichi’s footsteps faded down the hallway and left them truly alone in Tobio’s room. “What do we do?” he finally burst out, pulling Tobio with him to sit on the floor. “How do we prove our trust?”

“I have an idea,” Tobio murmured, “but you’re not going to like it.”

Shoyo blinked. “What? Why not? What’s the idea?”

“I…I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Why?!”

“Because of trust, dumbass! If we’re going to prove anything, I need you to do what I say when I ask you, okay?”

Shoyo scowled—he hated having secrets kept from him, hated it even more when the withheld information was the key to something so important. But Tobio just frowned back, an immovable object to Shoyo’s unstoppable force, and eventually Shoyo could only huff and grumble, “Why even bring it up if you’re not gonna tell me anything?”

“So then you won’t waste too much energy on thinking.”

“Hey!”

Tobio’s frown melted into a smile, a soft, slight little thing, and Shoyo’s annoyance drained away just as smoothly. He fiddled absentmindedly with Tobio’s hand, an outlet for his nerves as he asked, “Should we…should we tell him? That you have an idea?”

Tobio shook his head, catching Shoyo’s restless fingers with a firm pressure that Shoyo knew was meant to steady both of them. “Not yet. I think…I don’t think Iwaizumi-san will leave Oikawa-san until he lets us go. So…let them have some extra time. We can say something when they bring us some food.”

“Don’t you want to go home?”

The weight of Tobio’s silence unnerved him, and the feeling worsened when dark blue eyes slowly raised to his and revealed a nervousness ill-suited for a homecoming. “I…I want you to go home,” he said slowly, choosing every word with care, “and I want to go with you. But…I don’t know what my home is like anymore. I don’t know how anyone will react, if…if anyone will be happy to see me. It doesn’t…feel like home anymore, not like…”

“Not like…?”

Tobio brought their joined hands up and pressed his lips to the back of Shoyo’s hand. “Not like ours,” he breathed into his skin.

Shoyo’s heart skipped a beat, then swelled with love and pity and anger for the man curling into himself in front of him. Of course he was scared to go home. It had been six years.

“I’ll be there,” he hissed, crawling forward until he could nudge their noses together. “We’ll make it feel like home together, I promise. And I know, I know your grandfather will be so happy to see you. How could he not be?”

“He thinks I died, Sho. And now he’s going to think I ran away from home or something.”

“So tell him what happened! He’ll listen to you, he’ll hear you out, just like he heard me out when I had to leave to live with you.” A puff of air washed over his face, before he was grabbed into a hug with Tobio’s face buried into his shoulder. “I’m a samurai of the Kageyama clan, sworn to protect the daimyo and his family,” Shoyo whispered, stroking his fingers through Tobio’s hair, “and that includes you, Tobio. I’ll stay by your side through anything.”

“I know,” Tobio said, words muffled in Shoyo’s shoulder. “Me, too.”

All the giddy joy of last night’s reunion was drained away by the tumultuous ebb and flow of Oikawa’s rage and Iwaizumi’s reappearance, leaving an ache deep in Shoyo’s chest. Tobio was right back to making himself small under his fear and guilt, and Shoyo hated it. But what could he do? What could he say? It was his fault Tobio was in this situation.

“I love you,” Shoyo decided to say, mouthing the words into the soft hair at Tobio’s temple. He didn’t feel rejected by the way Tobio’s shoulders stiffened beneath his arms. He knew that was his way of pushing against the instinctive belief that he wasn’t worthy of that love. It just meant Shoyo would have to keep working to make him believe otherwise.

Tobio tightened his arms around his waist and pulled him into his lap, keeping his face buried in his shoulder the entire time. “I love you, too,” he eventually murmured, “I…Sho, I…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m…I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.”

“Never.” Shoyo held on even tighter, until he wasn’t sure if the heartbeat he felt was his own or Tobio’s. “You’re stuck with me, Tobi. Not even magical storms or shrouds could keep me away from you.”

“Yeah…stubborn dumbass.”

“Jerk,” Shoyo laughed, softening the taunt with another kiss to Tobio’s hair. He wanted to sink into the love settling over his nerves and easing the tremble of his fingers, but doubt pricked at him. “Tobio…you know I trust you, right?”

Silence met his question, broken by a soft sigh. “We’ll find out tomorrow, right?”

The lack of a firm answer stung, but it wasn’t unfair. Sure, the fact that Shoyo had come this far for him was a sign of his love and devotion. But no amount of insistence would change the fact that he’d broken Tobio’s trust the moment he lit the candle. It was a mistake that nearly ruined Tobio’s life twice over. Of course he would need something tangible to prove otherwise. “What about my love for you?”

This time, he earned a huff of laughter and the feeling of Tobio’s nose nuzzling into the curve of his neck. “Of course I know it,” he mumbled into Shoyo’s skin. “I love you, too, dumbass.”

“Good.” Shoyo’s arms tightened, only to immediately loosen at Tobio’s pained gasp. “What? What happened?!”

“The burns.” Tobio leaned away just enough to loosen his robes and frown at the three sunken burns on the strong swell of his chest. “They still hurt.”

“How?”

“I dunno. Aren’t you the healer’s son?”

“This isn’t normal,” Shoyo muttered, ignoring the taunt to peer at the burns. They were still perfect circles, still raw and red, still emitted a heat when Shoyo brushed his fingers around the flushed area. “This must be Oikawa’s magic. That’s why the wax burned you like this. Maybe it’s keeping you from healing, too.”

“Oikawa?!”

“Yeah.” Shoyo met Tobio’s eyes, and nearly shuddered at the stunned anger burning in their midnight depths. It was only the second time he’d seen him truly show anger at the sorcerer. “He gave the candle to my mom.”

“That…that bastard. He set us up.”

“Hey.” Shoyo caught Tobio’s face and forced him to hold their eye contact, waiting for his anger to ebb away before continuing, “Yes, the candle was unfair. But it’s still my fault that I lit it, and today we’re going to fix it, right?”

Tobio’s nod was slow. “…Right.”

Shoyo’s eyes wandered back to the burns, guilt crawling up his throat until he felt sick. “I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry I hurt you like that.”

“Hey. Don’t apologize.” Tobio gently pulled his hand away from the burns. “You’ve gotten hurt, too. We’ll fix it. All of it. But you have to listen to me, okay?”

Shoyo wasn’t familiar with the shifting emotions of Tobio’s human features, but he could still tell that the entreaty in his dark blue eyes didn’t quite belong there. What on earth would he ask him to do, if he was this nervous about Shoyo’s response? “...Okay.”

“Okay…good.”

With that, Tobio burrowed back into him, reminding Shoyo of the way Natsu would burrow into her plush rabbit. He fought valiantly against the laugh rising to his lips when he offered, “Hey…should we get the futon out? Do you want to sleep?”

“No. I wanna stay like this.”

“Then your legs will fall asleep.”

“Don’t care.”

“You will later!”

“Quit nagging and hold me back, dumbass!”

“Spirits…,” Shoyo huffed, as though he weren’t already holding him tight around his shoulders. “Yes, Your Grace.”

☾

Tobio did eventually let Shoyo go, but only because Kindaichi arrived with food. After they finished eating, Shoyo mentioned needing to change the wrappings on his arms, and when Kindaichi returned to take away the dishes, Tobio was partway through wrapping clean bandages around Shoyo’s wrists. “Oh. I thought you didn’t need any healing.”

“This isn’t healing,” Shoyo answered Kindaichi, though his eyes stayed fixed on the adorable pout of concentration Tobio wore as he carefully secured the wrappings on his right wrist. “I just needed to clean these.”

“Ah. Well…I’ll just…take these, then.” “Thanks!” Shoyo kept watching Tobio, his own lips curving into a frown when he didn’t add anything. “...Tobio.”

“What?”

“Your idea.”

Tobio’s single-minded concentration shifted into realization, then urgency. “Oh! Right, we wanted to see Oikawa-san again.”

Kindaichi blinked, suspicion creasing his features. “Really? You already have an idea?”

“We do.”

“...Alright.”

The walk back to the great hall was terribly familiar now. With Tobio at his side, Shoyo felt a particular sense of deja vu, and he reached for Tobio’s hand without really thinking about it. He just…needed the reassuring pressure of their fingers woven together.

Kindaichi paused once they reached the throne room, hands hovering over the panels in an echo of that morning. “...Are you sure about this?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the couple. Some anger still lingered in his eyes, but there was also genuine worry, especially when his eyes rested on Tobio.

That was right. He had mentioned feeling some sympathy for the cursed heir. But the worry Shoyo saw now went beyond simple sympathy. “Yes,” Tobio answered softly. “Could…could you get the candle, as well? If Oikawa-san has it?”

Kindaichi took a slow breath, and then, with a nod in return, he slid the doors open, slipping inside and leaving Shoyo and Tobio alone.

“Tobio,” Shoyo whispered, squeezing Tobio’s hand when he saw fear on his face, “it doesn’t matter if this doesn’t work. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you.”

“Dumbass, aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me?” Tobio huffed, a small smile cracking through his fear.

“I am encouraging!”

“Uh-huh.”

Tobio didn’t get a chance to tease Shoyo any more before the panels clacked open again. They both froze when, instead of Kindaichi, they found Iwaizumi standing in the entrance. “I hope you two have a good idea,” he said, his small smile gentling his words, “because Oikawa is not happy with being interrupted.”

“Iwa-chan, stop plotting with the enemy and get back here.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but still obeyed, leading Shoyo and Tobio into the throne room and rejoining Oikawa at the dais. Hanamaki and Matsukawa flanked the kyosoku, a few steps in front of where silent guards usually stood. To Shoyo’s surprise, Oikawa sat at the edge of the dias instead of at his armrest. It wasn’t until he stood and grabbed at Iwaizumi’s hand that Shoyo realized: there wasn’t space for two people at the kyosoku, nor on the cushion next to it. Of course Oikawa would lower himself to be next to the late love of his life.

“Well, Tobio-chan,” the sorcerer sniffed, lip curling around the mocking nickname, “what grand idea couldn’t even wait a day? And what, precisely, do you need with my candle? Fancying another burn?”

“Oi, Shitty-kawa.”

“What?! You saw his burns!”

“Not…not really,” Tobio quietly interjected. He didn’t look at Shoyo, as though he could feel the weight of his confused gaze. “I do need to light it again.”

Oikawa frowned but he picked up the candle and its dish and tossed them to their feet, so that Tobio had to crouch to retrieve them. “I expect your little samurai has a striker of some sort.”

Shoyo’s shoulders shot up to his ears when the attention of everyone in the room turned on him. “Uh. Yes, yeah, I do.”

“Okay.” Tobio lowered himself to the tatami mats and fit the candle onto its holder. He waited quietly as Shoyo dug out his striker from his pack and only offered a nod when Shoyo looked at him for guidance.

It was easy enough to light the candle, despite his hands trembling—he couldn’t shake the memory of the first and last time he’d lit this candle. “Okay,” he said once a flame flickered on the candle. “Now what?”

“Let it melt a bit.”

“Must we be here for the full process?” Oikawa drawled. He flopped back onto the edge of the dias, his boredom breaking only to offer a sweet grin at Iwaizumi’s exasperation. “Aw, you missed this, Iwa-chan. Admit it.”

“Dunno why I did,” Iwaizumi sighed, words mismatched with the way he lowered himself to Oikawa’s side and let him loop their arms together. There was an undercurrent of melancholy in their bickering, as if they knew this chance at normalcy would be short-lived.

“Princeling, what is the point of all this?”

“You told us to prove our trust,” Tobio said shortly, “and we can’t do that if I explain too much.”

Melted wax slowly dripped down the candle, eventually pooling in the dish the way it had when Shoyo accidentally burned Tobio with it. “Is this enough?”

“I think so.” Tobio looked up from the candle, and a shudder ran up Shoyo’s spine when their eyes met and he saw stony determination in those dark depths. “You have to listen to me, Sho.”

“I know.”

“You won’t like this.”

“O…kay? What do I need to do?”

“You have to pour it on me.”

“What?!” Shoyo was distantly aware of a sucked-in breath and some shuffles from the others in the room, but all his attention was narrowed in on Tobio’s impassive features.

“You have to pour it over my burns.”

“No! Why?! It’ll hurt you, I can’t— not again—”

“Shoyo.” Steady hands held Shoyo’s shaking hands. “You said you trust me.”

“I do, but—!”

“So trust me. Listen to me.”

“What if I hurt you again?”

“This is my idea,” Tobio reassured him. “If I get hurt, then it’s my own fault. Do it, Sho. Please. And when you start, you can’t stop until I tell you to, alright?”

The trembling of Shoyo’s hands worsened as he reached for the dish and lifted it, slow with dread. Familiar fingers settled around his wrist, holding him steady as he positioned it to pour over the three burns. “Are…are you ready?” Shoyo asked, voice hoarse in his dry throat.

Tobio slowly let go, leaving Shoyo to pour the wax on his own. “Yes.”

He sucked in a deep breath and slowly, carefully tilted the dish. Watching the wax slip out of the dish and onto Tobio’s skin felt like being trapped in a terrible flashback, a haunting nightmare. Then, Tobio groaned, and the reality became worse than the memory. Shoyo’s hand jerked, instinct telling him to right the dish and stop the flow of wax, but he caught himself just in time. “Tobio—”

“Don’t stop,” he grunted, eyes screwed shut against the pain. The fingers around Shoyo’s wrist started shaking, a tiny, almost-unnoticeable tremor, but it was enough for guilt to weigh heavy in his gut. He was hurting him, he was hurting him, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Tobio didn’t say anything, didn’t tell him to stop pouring, letting the burns be covered in a thick layer of wax that was already drying solid on his skin. Curiously, the wax didn’t burn him further. It just settled on him, pulling his skin tight as it dried. “Tell me to stop,” Shoyo whispered, “please, Tobio, end this.”

Tobio stayed silent, holding his breath until he finally gasped, “Stop.”

Shoyo jerked his hand back, blew out the flame, and abandoned the candle in favor of cupping Tobio’s face. “You idiot,” he hissed, brushing sweaty bangs out of Tobio’s unfocused eyes. “What was that supposed to prove? That I’ll hurt you on command?”

Uneasiness churned in his stomach when the only response he got were slow, dazed blinks. When Tobio eventually spoke, his words nearly slurred together. “Wipe it off.”

“What?”

“The wax. Wipe it away.”

Shoyo’s tongue burned with all of the questions he wanted to demand answers to, but Tobio looked like he could barely stay seated upright. He moved easily with Shoyo’s guiding hands to lay down on the mats, before Shoyo ripped a bit of fabric from the bottom of his torn-up kosode and dug out his waterskin. “Stay awake, you jerk,” he huffed under his breath, wetting the scrap and beginning to ever-so-carefully wipe away the wax. It was slow work, thanks to the wax needing to be soaked through before being wiped off. But bit by bit, the blue wax lifted from Tobio’s skin, and bit by bit, Shoyo’s eyes widened from what he saw.

At first he wasn’t sure if he was seeing correctly, but it quickly became unmistakable: the three burns were nowhere to be seen. It was as though those small, raw, perfectly-round circles had never been there, leaving smooth, pale skin beneath the wax. “How?” he gasped.

Tobio painstakingly raised himself to his elbows and stared down at his chest. “Oh…it worked.”

“‘Oh’? What do you mean, ‘oh’?!” Shoyo demanded. “What happened to the burns?!”

“The curse…” Shoyo and Tobio’s heads turned in unison to look at Oikawa, who stared at Tobio’s chest in disbelief. “Those burns were caused by your failure to break the curse. If they’re gone, then…”

“We broke it.” Tobio’s eyes were much more alert when they met Shoyo’s, and a smile—a beautiful, relieved, hesitant smile—began to inch across his face. “We did it, Sho. You trusted me.”

Shoyo’s stare swung from Tobio, to his chest, to a smiling Iwaizumi, and finally, Oikawa, who looked like he might make lightning strike the throne room itself. “Is it true?” Shoyo whispered. “Is the curse broken?”

There was a tense beat where Shoyo thought Oikawa would refuse outright. But instead, the sorcerer turned to Iwaizumi and grabbed his hands. The shifter’s surprise hardened into a frown. “Don’t you dare—”

“One night,” Oikawa pleaded, clinging to Iwaizumi’s hands. “If I let them go and do what you asked, then give me that. Give me one night with you, please.” When Iwaizumi didn’t answer immediately, Oikawa leant in to brush their noses together, still holding tight to his hands. “Please, Hajime. I won’t…I won’t ask you to stay forever. Just one more night, please.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched almost as tight as his eyes were squeezed shut. “…Fine,” he breathed, “but only if you let them go.”

“Fine,” Oikawa echoed. He darted in for a quick kiss, a bittersweet smile curving his lips when Iwaizumi grunted, “Oi!” in protest. The smile was gone when he shoved himself to his feet, swept to Tobio’s side, and crouched down to hold the blue stone still hanging around his neck by a leather strap.

A dull glow began to emit from the stone, pulsing like a heartbeat, only to die back down to a still, blue darkness. Oikawa’s fingers tightened around the stone before he abruptly tugged at it, yanking it from Tobio’s neck and sending the heir sprawling backwards to the floor.

“It’s done,” Oikawa said, his voice dull. He coiled the leather strap over the stone in the palm of his hand, as though he were going to tuck it into the pouch hanging off his obi. Suddenly, the ends of the leather sparked, and bright orange embers burned through the strap like a dwindling incense stick. It even burned through the stone, leaving a small pile of ash in Oikawa’s hand. “Go.”

He ignored the pairs of wide eyes that followed him back to the dais, where Iwaizumi awaited him with a small, sad smile and an outstretched hand. “W…what?” Tobio finally said, voice hoarse with disbelief.

“Go!” Oikawa snapped. Even though he was facing his throne, the tension in his shoulders still radiated anger and grief. “Leave! And don’t ever show your faces on this island again. There are always new curses to be placed.”

Shoyo needed no further encouragement. He gathered up his things and urged Tobio to his feet, ready to dip into a final bow and dash out of the castle. But when he pulled Tobio off the floor, the heir slipped his hand away and reached for the talisman instead. “Can we give this back?” he murmured.

“Oh. Um…yeah, of course,” Shoyo stammered, “if…if Oikawa-san will take it.”

With that, Tobio reached into Shoyo’s robes and carefully untied the talisman from around him, letting it fall into his hand with a silken, whispering rustle. Shoyo watched with his heart in his throat as the love of his life slowly approached the man who hated him most in the world, the man who he’d robbed of a lover and who in turn had robbed him of six years. He lowered himself to his knees and bent forward until his forehead brushed the tatami floor. An hush fell over the room at the sight—heirs of daimyos weren’t meant to offer a dogeza to anyone but their own daimyo, and certainly not their enemy.

“Please accept this,” Tobio said, “and accept our gratitude for your mercy. I…I know you won’t forgive me, but—”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Tobio’s head lifted at the interruption. Iwaizumi grinned down at him and crouched to take the talisman. “You made a mistake, a terrible mistake,” he told the younger man, “and you have paid more consequences than you should have. Go, live your life, and…and maybe one day, you might even begin to forget about all of this.” He looked up at Shoyo, his grin broadening into a smile that shook with gratitude. “Thank you, Hinata. Those words don’t feel like enough, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Shoyo murmured, bending into a deep bow, “and thank you for helping me.”

When he straightened, Iwaizumi still smiled, but as their eyes met, he lifted his chin in a gesture to the panels behind Shoyo. “Go.”

It was all so sudden, and somehow not fast enough. Shoyo’s lip trembled as he bowed to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who responded with smiles of their own, and then to Kindaichi, who bowed back.

Through it all, Tobio kneeled, gazing up at Oikawa’s back. Shoyo shouldered their things and crouched at his side, rubbing a soothing hand between his shoulders. “Tobio…let’s go.”

With a deep, shaky breath, Tobio nodded and let Shoyo help him to his feet again. But before they turned away, Shoyo looked at Oikawa, at his stiff posture and pretty hair, and murmured, “Thank you. I…I think you have a good heart, and I know it will heal. I hope…you can find some happiness then.”

He didn’t get a response beyond a sucked-in breath, and he didn’t expect more. He just let Tobio weave their fingers together and lead the way out of the throne room. The weight of everyone’s eyes rested on his back as they walked, but as the wood panels closed behind them, Shoyo shuddered from a prickle down his neck and whirled back around.

There, through the closing gap between the dark wood, Oikawa watched them with shadowed eyes and thin lips. The clack of the panels finally closing underlined the shiver that slid up Shoyo’s spine.

“Shoyo?”

“Sorry!” he gasped, whirling back to Tobio. “Sorry, I just…I felt…” Concern glittered in those dark eyes, making guilt chase off the unsettling weight in Shoyo’s stomach. “Nothing,” he decided, tugging lightly at Tobio’s hand. “Let’s go, Tobio.”

Tobio gave a mute nod and let Shoyo lead the way through the halls. When Shoyo looked back at him, Tobio was taking in the castle surrounding them, brows furrowed with nerves and frustration. “Hey.” Dark blue eyes snapped to Shoyo. “What’s wrong?”

“Just…” Tobio stared down the stairs that awaited them. “I can’t believe it. I…I can’t believe it’s over. I can go home. It’s really over.”

“It’s really over,” Shoyo confirmed. He took Tobio’s hands in his, smiling when their eyes met again. “We did it, Tobio. The curse is broken. I came here to take you home, and now it’s happening. We can go home!”

Tobio’s breaths slowly steadied, and his hands stopped trembling in Shoyo’s. “Sho…”

“Yeah?”

Tobio’s hands slid out of his and cupped his cheeks to pull him into a kiss. It was chaste but slow, and when they parted, their lips clung like drawn syrup. His eyes fluttered open to find Tobio watching him with the softest, fondest smile on his lips and not a trace of uncertainty in his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Shoyo said, unashamed of the catch in his voice. “Let’s go home?”

☾

Shoyo’s dread turned into a grief that clutched at his throat. Everything he’d done, everything he’d tried: the ointment and the bracelet, even seeing Tobio and nearly tearing himself to pieces trying to reach him…none of it mattered.

“No,” he choked out, shaking Tobio’s unconscious body, “no, no, you idiot, you were supposed to figure it out, I tried to make it obvious, Tobio, please—”

In a terrible echo of the first night, Shoyo began sobbing, pressing his hands to his eyes in a pitiful attempt to hold back his tears. His entire body bowed under the weight of his grief, until his face was pressed to Tobio’s chest, his tears soaking into his worn yukata.

“Sho.”

He sat up so quickly that his head swam, shock freezing his tears in their tracks and cutting off his sobs with a hiccup.

There, pushing himself into a seated position and blinking at Shoyo with beautiful sapphire eyes, was Tobio. Shock, glee, and concern were clashing across his features, but all Shoyo cared about was launching himself into his waiting arms with a gasped “Tobio!” He felt Tobio’s body tense and heard a soft grunt, proving that he wasn’t dreaming. Tobio was finally awake.

“You asshole!” Shoyo hissed, a soft sound between a sob and a laugh escaping with his words. “You tricked me, you jerk, I thought you drank that stupid tea again, you scared me—!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Tobio murmured, holding on so tightly that Shoyo almost couldn’t breathe. “I had to make sure Kindaichi didn’t hear me and figure out I was awake.”

“Well, it worked.” Shoyo pulled away just enough to show off his pout, only to get lost in staring at Tobio, soaking in his dark eyes and parted lips. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, subdued. “You really scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” Tobio’s eyes were wide as they flickered over Shoyo’s face, as though they were trying to carve every detail to memory. His hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs gently brushing away the tears that lingered and the fresh tears spilling from his eyes. “Hey…don’t cry, why’re you crying?”

“I dunno…I don’t know, I just…” Shoyo clung to Tobio’s hands, holding them tight against his cheeks. “I can’t believe this is real. I can’t believe you’re finally awake, you sleepy jerk!” His words held no sting in them. Even if he’d wanted them to, his voice was too shaky and watery with tears.

“Well, I can’t believe you’re here, you dumbass.” Tobio’s words were just as soft and adoring, but Shoyo still wasn’t prepared to see those dark eyes begin to shine with tears, too.

“Why’re you crying?!” Shoyo squawked, as though he wasn’t still blubbering with tears.

“Because you’re so stupid, Sho!” Tobio laughed, tugging Shoyo down to rest their foreheads together. “I told you not to come, but you’re here, you stubborn little idiot!”

“I told you I would!” Shoyo nudged his nose against Tobio’s and drew a shaky breath. “I…I broke too many promises, Tobio. I couldn’t break this one.”

Tobio abruptly pulled away, meeting Shoyo’s tear-swollen gaze with wide, shiny eyes. Confusion, and a tiniest pinch of hurt, curved Shoyo’s lips down. “T…Tobio?”

“You…you said my name.”

“Yeah.”

“Say it again.”

Disbelief, joy, and fear lined that wide gaze, a cocktail of emotions that Shoyo understood. This was the first time they were seeing and speaking to each other in months. Paired with the sound of Shoyo saying Tobio’s real name…of course it was all overwhelming, hard to believe.

Shoyo smoothed a hand along Tobio’s face, tracing his features the way he had in the dark, until his hand came to rest along his cheek. And then, in the softest, gentlest voice he could manage, he murmured, “Tobio.”

There was a beat of silence, of them simply staring at each other, and then their lips pressed together in messy, desperate, hungry kisses. Tobio’s hands immediately curved around Shoyo and lifted him onto his lap, and Shoyo’s legs easily parted to straddle him and press even closer. “I’m sorry,” Shoyo breathed between kisses, “I’m so sorry, Tobio, for everything, I—”

“Don’t, don’t apologize,” Tobio hushed him, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “You’re here, how are you here?”

“Long story,” Shoyo said, just before he bit back a soft moan. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

“Like why you left some ointment on my cheek? I thought an animal got in here and licked me, it was gross.”

Shoyo met Tobio’s frown with a grimace. “I had to make sure you figured out I was here. It worked, didn’t it?”

“Barely,” Tobio grunted, stealing another kiss. “Spirits, you’re stupid, you’re so stupid, why did you come all this way, dumbass, I love you so much—” He couldn’t seem to stop kissing Shoyo, his lips brushing some part of his face or neck in between his words. “Why are you here, what’s going on?”

“I’m here to take you home.” His heart twisted when defeat shuttered over Tobio’s face.

“It’s too late for that.”

“No, it’s not,” Shoyo insisted. He cradled Tobio’s beautiful, confused face in his hands, forcing him to hold eye contact with him. “It’s not too late; I won’t let it be too late. I don’t care how long it takes, we will figure out how to break this stupid curse and convince Oikawa to let you go.”

“Dumbass, what about your work, your family—”

“You asked me how I’m here.”

Confusion furrowed Tobio’s brows and brought him to a stuttering pause. “…Yeah?”

“I’m here because I wouldn’t rest, couldn’t rest, until I found you again. I’m here because kitsune and gods and ghosts led me to this impossible castle. I’m here because I couldn’t bear the thought of you blaming yourself for my mistake. I’m here because I refused to let anything keep us apart.”

He leaned forward until he could rest his forehead to Tobio’s, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m here because I love you, Tobio. I don’t know what else I can do to prove it to you. I love you so much, it hurts. Sometimes I can’t breathe because of all the love growing inside me. And it’s yours, all of it is yours, but you have to accept it. You have to believe me.”

Tobio let out a slow, shuddery breath that tickled at Shoyo’s cheeks and left them flushed. “I love you, too,” he whispered. “But I don’t…I don’t know if I’m worth it.”

“You are,” Shoyo immediately argued. “You’re worth it, Tobio.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you’re you. No matter what you do, no matter what happens, even if we get out of here and you don’t want me anymore, you will always, always be worth it, because of who you are.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What?”

“Don’t say I won’t want you.” Tobio pulled away and pinned Shoyo under a glare that sent a shudder up his spine. “You’re mine, dumbass. You’re the only person I will ever fall in love with, whether you like it or not.”

“Even when we go back to the palace?”

“Especially then.”

“Good.” That single word trembled with relieved tears, tears that he tried to ignore in favor of pulling Tobio into a kiss.

Tobio went easily, hungrily taking Shoyo’s lips as though they had never stopped kissing in the first place. Shoyo’s body sang under every touch as every nerve strained for the places Tobio’s hands and lips touched him. It was everything he had missed and more, filling him with pure, giddy joy.

So when a sob slipped from his lips in place of a happy sigh, he was just as surprised by it as Tobio. “Sho…?”

“Sorry.” Shoyo palmed at his cheeks and was mortified to find them wet. “I don’t…I didn’t mean…I don’t want to stop.”

“We can keep going when you tell me what’s going on.” How was it possible to miss someone’s gruff nagging so much? It was that much sweeter when contrasted with the gentle hands that cupped and wiped Shoyo’s cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Shoyo whispered, another sob escaping him. “I’m happy, I’m so, so happy, and I’m so—” He gave in to his next trembling cry, letting his tears rob him of his voice.

“Shoyo…” The moment Tobio’s hands slid away from his cheeks, Shoyo buried his face into his shoulder, his comforting scent and warmth filling Shoyo’s senses even as his tears soaked Tobio’s robes. “Oi, I thought you wanted to see me.”

“I do!” Shoyo insisted through a wet laugh. “You’re all I thought about, Tobio. You were the only thing pushing me through this journey. Everyday, I wished you were at my side, and every night, I dreamed that we were back at the house, at our home. And now I’m here, and you’re holding me, and you’re all I’ve wanted for months, and I’m so scared.”

“Scared? Why?”

It was the strangest thing. Now that Shoyo was reunited with Tobio, all of the stress from the quest morphed into needless stress for the future. “What if something happens? What if…what if we get out of here, and something else pulls us apart? What if we get back home and you’re sent away for more training? What if we can’t—”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Shoyo shot up straight, gaping at Tobio. “Huh?!”

He couldn’t hold on to his indignation, not when Tobio was grinning at him so fondly. “One step at a time, dumbass. We have to get out of here first.”

Tobio’s certainty in their future melted away the lump of anxiety that had settled itself in Shoyo’s throat. “Y-yeah…I know…”

“But for now…” Tobio dragged a slow hand down Shoyo’s spine, letting it rest in the small of his back as he trailed kisses down Shoyo’s neck. “We’ve got tonight.”

Tobio’s kisses were all hunger and desire, spreading hot apprehension and excitement through Shoyo as he tried to choke back soft moans. He was so focused on keeping up with the kisses, he didn’t notice Tobio’s work on his robes until they went slack around his waist. “Tobio…?”

“I want to see you,” Tobio breathed, pulling Shoyo’s kosode from his hakama until the folds of the robes fell open. “All of you. Can I?”

It was a bad idea. Shoyo knew it was a bad idea. Stripping naked and being so vulnerable in the castle of the enemy would easily be one of the stupidest things he’d ever done.

But when Tobio was running warm, calloused hands up his bare torso and pressing kisses down his sternum…when his lips finally closed around a nipple and sucked, making Shoyo gasp with surprised pleasure…how could he say no?

“You have to hurry, Tobio,” he whispered, shrugging off his kosode and carefully setting the talisman aside until he only wore his hakama. “And you have to be quiet!”

Tobio’s gaze caught the talisman on his folded robes and the bandages wrapped around his wrists, his brows furrowing with confusion and concern. But when those dark blue eyes met Shoyo’s again, they were glinting with intent. “Don’t worry about me.” Tobio carefully pressed Shoyo to the futon with a smirk. God, he looked so smug and infuriating and tantalizing as he loosened the ties of Shoyo’s hakama. It was worth it, all of it, just to see all the smiles those beautiful lips could form. “You worry about keeping yourself quiet.”

With that, he hooked his fingers into Shoyo’s hakama and fundoshi and tugged them off, leaving him completely bare from the waist down. It was the first time Tobio was seeing his body, really seeing him, and it made Shoyo’s face burn with embarrassment, especially when he was already so hard.

But he didn’t find any judgment on Tobio’s face as he drank in his body. No, when those blue eyes flickered up to look at Shoyo, they were filled with a desire so potent, it almost took Shoyo’s breath away.

Then there were lips kissing his crown, and he really did lose his breath.

His mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as his hips tried to cant up. But while Tobio hadn’t seen his body, he’d still learned his body, and he was already pinning Shoyo’s hips down before they could leave the floor. Shoyo fought to keep himself propped up on his elbows and keep his eyes open, determined to finally watch Tobio at work. It was almost a mistake.

It was enough that Tobio knew the rhythm to move up and down his length, when to linger and swirl his tongue around the head, and now, with the benefit of light, how to trace the vein that throbbed along Shoyo’s cock. But Shoyo wasn’t ready for the visuals that accompanied Tobio’s immaculate work. The sight of those perfect lips stretched around his cock and those long fingers stroking at his hips or at the rest of his length made arousal slide down his body to meet Tobio’s lips. And then Tobio glanced up at him, and Shoyo caught sight of his watery eyes and long, damp eyelashes, and he nearly came right there.

“Haaaa— Tobio.” He barely fought off his orgasm; his arms slid out from under him and sent him falling back on the floor. Tobio groaned at the sound of his name, and Shoyo had to press his hands to his mouth before his own moan could ring out around the room. It instead choked off in his throat, and he knew Tobio had heard it when another hum vibrated through him.

He couldn’t stop a whine from escaping him when Tobio pulled away, robbing Shoyo of the perfect, hot suction of his mouth. But his long fingers wrapped tight around him, keeping him right at the edge of his own pleasure. “Fuck, Shoyo,” Tobio breathed, “you make my name sound so good.” His voice was just a little hoarse, and Shoyo nearly went dizzy at the realization that it was because of his cock sliding down his throat. He could hear where his cock had pressed in.

Shoyo’s eyes fluttered open to meet Tobio’s, and he nearly moaned out loud again at what he saw: mussed hair, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and watery, heavy-lidded eyes. He looked well and truly fucked-out, and Shoyo couldn’t believe that this was what he had been missing. “You too,” he gasped, “you too, Tobio, Tobio—!” A finger swirled around his cockhead, gathering the leaking precome and spreading it down his length. Shoyo’s toes curled with the effort of staving off his orgasm, and his head fell back, exposing his neck for Tobio to kiss and nip at.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Tobio ordered, a wolven note lingering just beneath, “I want you to say my name when you come.”

“Oh, spirits—” Those words sent a delicious shudder down Shoyo’s spine, and in the next breath, he was gasping, “now, now, it’s— I’m—!”

Lips sealed around the tip of his erection, and that was all Shoyo needed to finally spill into Tobio’s mouth with a wrecked, “Tobio— mmm, Tobio—!”

His voice could barely leave his body, leaving him only able to pant through his orgasm. It was for the best, really—it was bad enough that Tobio was awake without anyone knowing. They didn’t need Kindaichi discovering that when Shoyo was mid-orgasm.

Tobio didn’t pull away until Shoyo pushed at his shoulders, freeing his cock from his mouth with a lewd pop. He knew he should get dressed, or at least cover up, but he wasn’t sure he could even move. And besides, it was hard to want to cover up when Tobio was drinking in his naked body like it was a work of art. “Good?” Tobio finally asked.

“So good,” Shoyo hummed.

The last aftershock had barely finished running through him before Tobio ducked to press a kiss beneath his belly button. The featherlight touch made Shoyo shiver with the threat of oversensitivity, but he didn’t want Tobio to stop. He relished each kiss that his lover pressed on his journey up his body, until he was finally pressing a kiss to his lips. “Spirits…I could do that all day,” Tobio breathed, “just to watch you come over,” another kiss, “and over,” a kiss to his jaw, “and over.” He punctuated himself with a nip at Shoyo’s ear.

Shoyo moaned softly as he asked, “What about my turn?”

Tobio pulled away just enough to grin down at him. “Later, when all this is over.”

A frown curved over Shoyo’s lips, until a thought occurred to him. “Fine,” he purred, sliding a hand under Tobio’s yukata to brush a nipple and make him bite his lip against a moan, “then when it’s just us, no time limits or curses or sorcerers, I’m going to take my time and enjoy every inch of you.”

“Good.” Tobio dipped down to steal a kiss, before settling down beside Shoyo and pulling him close. “...I missed you.”

Shoyo’s eyes stung with tears as he nestled his head over Tobio’s heart, its slow beat a precious comfort. “Me, too…so much. I didn’t…I didn’t know if I would make it. I still can’t believe I did.”

“It looks like you had some close calls.” Shoyo stiffened when fingers brushed over the bandages on his arm and gently, delicately lifted it from Tobio’s chest. “What happened to your wrists?”

“The handcuffs,” Shoyo murmured, “when you came to the great hall. I fought too hard against them. I know it was stupid, but it’s been months, and when I saw you again, you were asleep the entire time. So when I finally saw you when you were awake, I just…I didn’t care about anything but holding you again.”

Tobio was silent as Shoyo spoke, handling his bandaged wrist and arm with a care Shoyo hadn’t felt since leaving home. “Me, too,” he eventually whispered, bringing Shoyo’s wrist to his lips and brushing the ghost of a kiss over the bandages. “Kyotani-san had to knock me out and lock me back in here to keep me from getting back to you.”

The image of Kyotani hauling Tobio’s taller body back to the room made a soft, helpless snort escape Shoyo. “Oi,” Tobio grunted, half-hearted in his annoyance.

“Sorry,” Shoyo snickered, trying and failing to muffle his growing laughter in Tobio’s chest. “You must’ve been pretty wild for someone to knock you out.”

“You can’t talk!” Tobio snapped, his words softened by some notes of laughter. “Look what you did to yourself!” His fingers trailed down from Shoyo’s wrist to the bandages covering his forearm. “What’s this? This isn’t from the handcuffs.”

Shoyo’s laughter faded, until his voice was quiet again with his answer. “...A wolf.” This time, Tobio was the one falling still. “I was attacked. I didn’t use the bow, and I didn’t…I didn’t want to kill him. I only fought back when he knocked me down and bit me, and he didn’t let go until I killed him, but I didn’t want to, Tobio, it felt too…too…”

“...Did he look like me?”

“What?”

“The wolf that attacked you. Did he look like me?”

“No…his fur was kind of brown and gray, and he had yellow eyes.”

“Dumbass, then why’d you wait?”

“I don’t know!” Shoyo pushed up on his good arm to frown down at Tobio’s scowl. “He was the first wolf I saw after meeting you! I only ever saw you as a wolf for almost a year! Fighting him, it…it felt too much like I was…” His eyes stung again, now with tears that began falling before he could wipe them away.

“Dumbass.” The taunt was soft, gentle, achingly tender. “C’mere.”

When Shoyo lowered back down, his chin was caught in Tobio’s free hand, guiding him into a soft kiss. “You survived,” Tobio whispered, drawing a curve over the bandages. “You’re stupid and stubborn and sappy, and you survived, Sho. You found me.”

A smile curved over Shoyo’s face just as a sob hiccuped out of him. “Always,” he insisted. “I’ll always find you. Just like you found me.”

Tears shone in Tobio’s eyes as he ever-so-carefully lifted Shoyo’s wounded arm to his lips and brushed another, ever-so-gentle kiss over the bandages. “When we get out of here,” he murmured into the cloth, “you’ll never have to find me again. You better be with me, annoying me, everyday.”

“How are you so mean and so romantic?” Shoyo laughed through his tears.

“You like it.”

“Yeah.” Shoyo nestled back into Tobio before he whispered, “And I love you.”

“Sap.”

“Jerk.”

Tobio loosened his fingers around Shoyo’s arm as it settled on his chest, but he didn’t quite let go. He traced lines where the bandage layered over itself, like a soothing little dance Shoyo could just feel against his arm. In his tired daze, Shoyo’s mind wandered from the bandages, to the man who had wrapped them for him, to the duties of Kunimi and the other people he had treated. Which included Tobio. Who had experienced wounds that necessitated Kunimi’s care.

“Tobio?” The soft name slipped from Shoyo’s lips before he could truly think over the wisdom of what he was about to ask.

“Yeah?”

“Is…is it true that your punishment was…fighting the demons on the island?”

The tracing fingers paused, but didn’t pull away. “...Did Kindaichi tell you about that?”

“Y-Yeah,” Shoyo admitted with a cringe.

There was a slow, deep sigh, a sound Shoyo recognized as Tobio’s “thinking sigh.” Sure enough, when Tobio eventually spoke, his words were slow and measured, as if he was trying to choose them carefully. “It’s true. I was only allowed to use a sword; Oikawa made sure to forbid me from using a bow, said he couldn’t allow Iwaizumi’s killer patrol the island with the weapon that had killed him. I guess I’m lucky that he didn’t realize I was more comfortable with the katana anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” Shoyo hummed, only to whine when Tobio pinched his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah. I dunno how much use our sparring really was. Fighting against oni is pretty different from a duel with a human. I guess that was the point.” His arm tightened around Shoyo’s shoulders, tucking him closer before he murmured, “There…there were a few close calls in the first month or so. It’s a pretty fucking steep learning curve, and I was facing them everyday. If it wasn’t for Kunimi-san’s healing, I don’t…I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted.”

Shoyo didn’t realize his fingers had been tightening into Tobio’s loose yukata until a warm hand laid over them and eased them loose. “I’m okay, Sho. Kunimi hasn’t needed to heal me for a while, now.”

“Then what’s with the tea? Why do you need pain relief if you haven’t been injured?”

“I’ve still been getting injured, dumbass, I haven’t gotten that good,” Tobio scoffed. “But…the tea isn’t for the injuries. It’s for the curse.”

Oikawa had already told Shoyo as much, but his heart still clenched at Tobio’s confirmation. “Because…because your body is still cursed? And it wants to change?”

“Something like that.”

“Do you think it’ll go away when we leave?”

“I dunno…but I don’t care. I can deal with it if we get out of here together.”

“Spirits…and you call me a sap,” Shoyo huffed.

“You’re the one who went on a big romantic quest to find me. You’re still the sap.”

Tobio’s teasing was gentled by long, careful fingers combing through Shoyo’s hair, drawing the tension out of his neck and shoulders to leave him relaxed in Tobio’s arms. “I’d do it again,” Shoyo sighed, snuggling in closer. “And you’d do it for me.”

“Of course I would,” Tobio murmured, pressing a kiss to Shoyo’s hair. “Go to sleep, dumbass.”

“I already slept today,” Shoyo mumbled, as though his lashes weren’t fluttering against his cheeks with a sleepy weight.

“Not with me.” The suggestion that Shoyo would sleep better in Tobio’s arms would have been presumptuous if it weren’t true, like so much of what Tobio said. As though his body were in agreement, Shoyo’s jaw ached with the stretch of a wide yawn.

“But I need to tell you about the trip.”

“You came last night, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you talked to me?”

“Yeah…”

“Then you already told me about your quest. I thought it was just you talking to me in a dream, but I guess it really was your voice. I heard about the kitsune, the tengu, the siren, all of it.”

“Oh…” Maybe Shoyo should’ve felt more surprised, but between his comfortable exhaustion and all his dreams of Tobio in the past, he only felt pleased.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Tobio laughed, voice warm with fondness. “So sleep.”

“Stay with me,” Shoyo mumbled, tightening his arms around Tobio.

“Of course, dumbass.”

“See you in the morning?”

“Yeah…and every morning after that.”

“Now who’s the sap?” Shoyo giggled, though his laughter quickly faded into a sleepy sigh. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Sleep, Sho.”

When Shoyo drifted off, it wasn’t just a deep, dreamless slumber. He fell into the best, most restful sleep he’d had since leaving the house in the mountains. The sound of Tobio’s low voice and quiet breaths were the best lullaby he’d ever heard.

☾

Shoyo woke up to hands shaking his shoulder and a low voice hissing, “Sho…hey, Shoyo, wake up.”

“Hm?” he mumbled, blearily blinking at the room awash in warm, golden light.

“Get dressed, someone’s coming.”

Golden light…like from the sunrise. Not the cool silver of the moon.

The realization chased away the last of Shoyo’s drowsiness. “Shit!” he gasped, scrambling out of the futon and fumbling to pull on his fundoshi and tie on the talisman. Tobio could only watch—he just had to re-tie his yukata, but he didn’t want to get in Shoyo’s way by trying to help. “What is that?” he suddenly asked.

Shoyo looked up from tying his kosode closed. “What?”

“The thing under your robes.”

He glanced down at the pale ribbon peeking out at his chest. “Oh, it’s— shit!”

The sound of the lock clicking made him abandon trying to tie his robes in favor of yanking his hakama on. By the time Kindaichi slid the screens open, Shoyo was tightening his pants around his hips while Tobio gathered together his things. “You’re awake!” Kindaichi gasped, expression torn between surprised relief and dread.

“Uh…yeah,” was all Tobio managed to answer with.

Kindaichi’s eyes snapped from Tobio to Shoyo. “And you’re—! Wait, what’s that?”

Again, Shoyo found himself looking down at the talisman, which was on full display under his loose robes. “Ah,” he said with a cringe—what a stupid way to be found out. “It’s, um…a present?”

“That’s Iwaizumi-san’s,” Kindaichi rebutted. For the first time since Shoyo’s initial arrival, the young man stepped close and reached for him, carefully lifting the talisman from Shoyo’s skin. “I remember those leaves and trees. Only Iwaizumi-san’s talisman had those.” He pinned his gaze on Shoyo, who fought not to squirm under his intense suspicion. Kindaichi was always so nervous and trusting—the threat of his anger was a strange, deeply unnerving thing to feel. “Where did you get this?”

“I…I don’t know—”

“Where?!” Kindaichi demanded, fingers tightening dangerously around the charm.

“I can explain!”

“Then explain! No, wait.” He abruptly let go of the charm and stepped away, sweeping a calculating gaze over the couple. “You can explain to Oikawa-san. He deserves to know you have something that belongs to Iwaizumi-san.”

Fear crawled up Shoyo’s throat, leaving him helpless and frightened, with his only chance at comfort being a stolen glance at Tobio…who looked just as terrified.

For once, Kindaichi was unflinching. When he said, “Follow me,” his voice was cold, and he swept out of the room before Shoyo or Tobio could say anything else.

Shoyo fumbled with the ties of his kosode as he and Tobio followed Kindaichi to the great hall. It wasn’t walking that made things difficult, but his shaking hands.

“Shoyo.”

“I’ve got it,” he hissed back.

“No, you don’t. Just—” Shoyo was pulled up short and brought to a stumbling stop, before being spun around. “Let me,” Tobio grunted when Shoyo faced him. His furrowed brow and small pout of concentration as he finally tied the robes were so strangely familiar to Shoyo, even though he’d never seen that particular expression in Tobio’s human features. But he didn’t need to. His heart squeezed and a fond smile pulled at his lips in just the same way as when he would see the wolf’s ears tilt back and his paws kneaded at the ground.

“Can you keep up, please?”

Shoyo and Tobio both jolted and looked up to see Kindaichi frowning at them, the politeness of the request clearly coming more from habit than any real desire to be pleasant. The couple hurried to catch up, but with nothing to occupy his nervous fingers, Shoyo reached for Tobio’s hand, and some of the weight in his stomach lifted away when long fingers wove between his own.

It was the first time they had ever held hands while walking together. Yes, they were on their way to a frightening confrontation, not strolling through the woods, but that didn’t keep a warm ember from glowing by Shoyo’s heart.

Then they stood in front of the great hall, and that ember was doused by a fresh wave of fear.

Kindaichi froze for a moment, hand flat against the wood panels, as though he were stalling for a moment. It was only a few breaths, but it was enough for all three of them to jump from a new voice asking, “What’s going on here?”

Matsukawa wore an affable enough grin as he strolled towards them, an unnerving contrast to the sharp edge of his eyes flickering between the three younger men. Shoyo’s mouth went dry when the curiosity on Matsukawa’s face melted into realization. “Well…I was wondering why I didn’t see you leaving, Hinata,” he sighed, looking for all the world like a beleaguered father. “Congrats on staying awake for his visit, Kageyama.”

“Um. Thank you.”

“Kindaichi, what’s going on?”

In any other circumstances, it might have been sweet, the way all the nerves lining Kindaichi’s body fell away and let him stand straight under the reassurance of Matsukawa’s presence. But in this circumstance, dread settled heavy on Shoyo’s shoulders when Kindaichi’s eyes trailed from Matsukawa to the still-loose folds of his robes.

Matsukawa also followed the path Kindaichi’s eyes took. His gaze faltered when it caught on the talisman badly concealed behind his robes, and Shoyo watched for the first time as his expression darkened with real, terrifying anger. In a single blink, Matsukawa was stepping forward and grabbing the talisman with a force that made Shoyo stumble forward. “...How do you have this?”

“He wouldn’t say,” Kindaichi muttered.

“Mm.” Matsukawa traced over the leaf stitching with a gentleness that belied the fury in his dark eyes. “Wait out here, I’ll go inside.”

It was impossible to miss the satisfaction relaxing over Kindaichi’s face when Matsukawa took over, even though he was left behind with Shoyo and Tobio while his senior disappeared into the great hall. Silence fell over the unwilling trio, broken only by their shallow breaths and the muffled sounds slipping through the dark wood panels: footsteps, voices, something metallic and hollow crashing to the ground. Shoyo flinched at the harsh sound, and at the raised voices that followed.

He couldn’t think about it, couldn’t give in to the threat of his chest tightening around every breath he tried to suck in. The knots and whorls of the dark wood blurred into something uncannily smooth before his eyes as his breath grew shallower.

And then, suddenly, a warm hand slid into his, and a single squeeze released all the pressure caving into his chest. Fresh air flooded Shoyo in a deep, ragged gasp, and when he blinked up at Tobio, his vision was clear enough for him to fully appreciate the concern lining his dark eyes. “Breathe, Sho.”

“I know,” Shoyo whispered, giving a squeeze of his own. “Thank you.”

Tobio didn’t say anything, just stepped up to Shoyo’s side and stole a glance at the talisman against Shoyo’s chest. His curiosity was clear in his furrowed brows, but he didn’t voice it, much to Shoyo’s relief. It would already be difficult explaining everything to Oikawa. He wasn’t sure a practice round just outside the great hall would be much use.

The wood screens slammed open with a deep crack, as though thunder were sounding inside. All three of the young men jumped at the sharp sound, and when Shoyo looked into the great hall, his heart sank when he didn’t see anyone standing by the screens, no one who could have opened them. Matsukawa was kneeling by the dais, pale robes splattered with bloodred wine that was spreading across the tatami mats from a brass jug knocked to the floor. The two guards at the back of the raised platform were barely visible, and there was no one else in the room.

Which meant the doors must have been magically opened by the outstretched hand drawing Shoyo’s eyes to Oikawa, who glared back with wild eyes. “Come. Here,” he said, voice low and words clipped in a way that belied his heaving chest. “Now.”

Shoyo knew his fingers were too tight around Tobio’s, maybe even to the point of pain, but the heir didn’t make so much as a sound of discomfort as he followed Shoyo into the great hall, to his usual place on the tatami mats. “Oikawa-sama—,” he began, lowering himself to the floor.

“Don’t kneel,” Oikawa snapped. “Don’t move. Don’t speak. I don’t want to hear another word from you, from either of you.” He barely spared Tobio a glance, face contorting as though the mere sight of him was nauseating. “You are going to stay there, and show me what you’re wearing, and you will only speak when I ask you a question. Understand?”

Shoyo didn’t speak, didn’t even nod. He only moved to undo the loose knots of his robes and let them fall open, fully exposing the talisman.

“Good.” When Oikawa’s eyes fell to the talisman, his face contorted again, this time with grief and disbelief. He pushed himself onto shaky legs and took awkward, jerking steps down from the dais, hand hovering in front of him until he could finally take hold of the talisman. There was no force in his grip, nothing that made Shoyo stumble from his place the way Matsukawa had. But a chill still swept through him when Oikawa’s eyes fluttered closed and his fingers traced over the design.

Shoyo had been expecting wrath, poisonous words flung from sneering lips, maybe even violent hands wrapping into his robes. He certainly didn’t expect the talisman to begin glowing with a warm, golden light, growing brighter and brighter until it looked as though Oikawa were holding a star in his hand. Shoyo could have sworn the room was dimming around them, and when he looked at Tobio, his heart sank at the pure, undiluted fear in his wide, dark eyes.

“The man in the kimono’s hand was glowing with magic, and he had it over the other man’s wound, and they were speaking to each other.”

Was this what Tobio had seen on that terrible day? Did he see the glow of magic catch on the tears streaming down Oikawa’s face and make them glitter on his smooth cheeks? Did he watch Oikawa’s eyes flutter open and pin him under a still, blank-faced fury? When he was cursed, did he feel the magic burn through his body?

Because the talisman did feel like it might burn Shoyo’s skin when it fell back to his chest. He didn’t get to dwell on it, not when long, graceful fingers were twisting into his robes and pulling the fabric taut around his shoulders. “Where,” Oikawa breathed, venom singeing through every slow, deliberate word, “did you get this?”

Shoyo didn’t speak for a moment, couldn’t speak—his voice wouldn’t leave his tight throat. When it did finally escape, it whistled through his lips, even though he attempted to keep his words steady. “It was given to me.”

“LIAR!” Oikawa bellowed. Shoyo’s flinch was lost in the yank at his robes, sending him stumbling forward the last half-step keeping him and Oikawa from being toe-to-toe. He had to tilt his head back to meet the sorcerer’s gaze, and he immediately wished he hadn’t. There was an ire in those eyes that he had never seen before, much less been pinned under. Another snippet of an old story slithered through the panic clamoring through his mind.

“I didn’t know I could ever do something to earn that sort of rage. I thought he would set me on fire with just his eyes.”

“I’m not lying,” he whispered, terror reducing him to a frozen, wide-eyed shell of himself.

“Another lie,” Oikawa snarled, looming over Shoyo until his breaths puffed over his pallid cheeks. “Do you think me a fool, Shoyo Hinata? You think I wouldn’t recognize the talisman I made for the love of my life? I watched this thing burn with Hajime’s corpse, watched it disappear with the ashes of the most important person in my world. And now, here you are, gallivanting in our home, wearing something that should be ash. What did you do? How are you sullying it with your body?” His fingers loosened from Shoyo’s robes to grab at the talisman again. “Think very carefully about your answer.”

Shoyo did think carefully. He really did. Which was why the only answer he could settle on was the truth. “It was given to—”

The sound of the slap cracked through Shoyo’s ears before the pain registered. He was already on the floor by the time his cheek began burning from the four lines the backs of Oikawa’s fingers left behind, and he couldn’t even let out a cry, not before the sorcerer was falling to his knees over him and shaking him by the edges of his robes. “What have you done?!” Oikawa screamed, completely overpowering the shouts of protest coming from Matsukawa, Tobio, and even Kindaichi. “What sorcerer gave you this? How did you know to ask for Hajime’s things? What else do you have, you little thieving bastard?!”

“Nothing!” Shoyo cried, a sob shuddering out with his words. “I didn’t take anything, I swear—!”

“Stop fucking lying!”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t take this, I didn’t get it from a sorcerer, please—!”

“Don’t you dare beg, I should kill you for this, you snake, you brat— let me go, Mattsun!”

“No!” The fingers tangled in Shoyo’s robes ripped away, sending him collapsing to the floor, head crashing on the mats and leaving him only able to listen. “You’re going to hurt him—”

“So let me! Look what he has!”

“I know!”

“Then let me—!” Shoyo looked up just as Oikawa began wrestling against Matsukawa’s hold, trying and failing to get his arms free. “Give it back, you bastard!”

Oikawa was trapped in Matsukawa’s arms, but Shoyo still scrambled backwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and the raging sorcerer until his back collided with the dais. He reached for his dagger, but his shaking fingers closed around nothing. It wasn’t at his waist, it was still on the floor with his pack. He was defenseless, with only Matsukawa’s weakening hold keeping him from being torn up by Oikawa’s rage—

“Shoyo! Hey, look at me.” Oikawa’s contorted face was suddenly covered by blue eyes wide with fear and concern. Callouses brushed his cheeks, their touch ever-so-gentle, and another sob shuddered out of Shoyo as he crumpled into Tobio’s hold. He could feel embarrassed over his charge as a samurai being the one to comfort and shield him. But for now, he let himself give into the protection of the man he loved.

“Was it you?” Oikawa snarled, finally calming in Matsukawa’s arms. “Did you give it to him? Did you steal it off of Hajime’s body?!”

“No,” Tobio answered, turning his back to Shoyo to face Oikawa as a shield. “That would be impossible.”

“Don’t tell me what’s impossible!”

Matsukawa suddenly shouted, one hand leaving Oikawa to slap at the nape of his neck. He realized his mistake a beat too late: Oikawa must have made something tickle his neck, and now he was slipping out of his loosened hold to throw Tobio aside and grab at the talisman still warming Shoyo’s chest. “Give this to me,” he hissed, “or I will curse you in a way that will make that brat’s curse look easy.”

“Tooru!”

Oikawa froze, his stricken expression still obvious through Shoyo’s tears. Shock stole his own breath—that voice wasn’t possible, not here, not in front of others. But the stunned disbelief on Oikawa’s face before he abruptly dropped the talisman was all the proof Shoyo needed.

☾

“You’re drugging him.”

Oikawa didn’t look surprised by Shoyo’s appearance so much as the style of his entrance. “Ah. Good morning, samurai-chan. To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“You’re drugging Tobio,” Shoyo repeated. After two days of kneeling in the same place, Shoyo half-expected to feel divots in the shape of his knees as he lowered himself to the tatami mats, keeping his chin lifted and his eyes fixed on Oikawa. “Why? You’re the one who said I can’t do anything about the curse. What does it matter if we speak to each other?”

Oikawa didn’t answer for a moment, simply sat and stared at Shoyo. Then, suddenly, he sang, “Kindaichi-kun~”

Shoyo didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know the young man flinched. “Y-Yes, Oikawa-san?”

“Did you get lost on the way out? Why am I looking at him again so soon?”

“I’m sorry!” Kindaichi’s voice shook with shame and embarrassment, making Shoyo cringe with guilt. “He just…ran away from me when we passed by here. I couldn’t stop him before he was already in here.”

“Ugh…you’re a flighty little thing, aren’t you?” Oikawa sneered at Shoyo before looking back to Kindaichi. “Would you go ask Watacchi about getting a lock on those doors? It seems that will be a good idea, after all.”

Kindaichi hesitated for just a moment before squeaking, “Yes, sir!” and hurrying away. Suddenly Shoyo was left alone with Oikawa and the two silent guards shadowing the throne. He shifted on his knees, drawing Oikawa’s attention back to him.

“Well, then. Where were we, samurai-chan?”

“You’re drugging Tobio. Why?”

“Ah, yes. That again. I thought I already told you—”

“I know you’re drugging him!” Shoyo interrupted, refusing to be convinced out of what he knew. “I could taste the poppy seeds! You’re not supposed to use enough to taste them in a pain relief tea. You only use that much for a sedative.”

Oikawa raised a single, graceful, dangerous eyebrow. “Is that so? And how exactly do you know what our prince’s tea tastes like?”

Heat rushed to Shoyo’s cheeks, but he raised his chin and held Oikawa’s eye contact, refusing to feel embarrassed. “I kissed him. The tea was still on his lips.”

“Mm…a bit shameless, aren’t we?”

“I’m not shameless! I just…missed him. Why won’t you answer my question?”

“Question?” Oikawa let his lips poke out in a picture of false innocence. “It sounded an awful lot like an accusation, not a question.” Shoyo stayed silent and continued to glower at him. A slow, humorless smile curved across Oikawa’s face and left his eyes untouched.

“You remind me a bit of myself, you know.” His smile broadened when Shoyo blinked in surprise. “Oh, yes. I recognize your desperation. Your willingness to go so far just for the chance to see your lost love again, even to the end of the sun. I went through the same thing after Iwa…” His breath caught. Six years, and he still couldn’t seem to bring himself to plainly speak about Iwaizumi’s death. “I even started looking into dark magic. That was the only way I could find anything on reviving the…the dead.

“It took years, but I did eventually find a way. Of course it was complex, required ingredients and rituals and specific alignments of the stars, but I didn’t conduct it on him. I had to make sure it would work.” He idly traced the embroidery that adorned his kyosoku, his fingertips gliding over the silken armrest. “There’s only one of him; I couldn’t risk any mistakes. So on the planned day, I killed a rabbit and set about bringing it back.”

His fingers suddenly clenched on the armrest. “I could feel the life returning to its body, but I could also feel the magic consuming me. I didn’t care. I’d live a partial life if it meant having Iwa back. My hands felt warm with life while my chest went cold with the dark magic. And it hurt. It hurt like nothing I’d felt before. I still pushed, because I could feel it working, I could feel the warmth running into the rabbit’s body.” His fingers stretched out, as though thawing with the warmth he described.

“I don’t know how long it took, but it eventually ended. I checked the rabbit, and…it had worked. Technically. I could feel its heart beating; it was breathing, it was warm. But that was it. It wouldn’t move, and when I opened its eyes, they were unfocused. Dead, even. All that work, all that hope, gone. Nothing more than ash. Well, and this.”

There, in front of his throne, his guards, and Shoyo, Oikawa removed his obi and loosened his kimono until it fell open to bare his chest. Shoyo took a single glance and sucked in a breath.

His skin was creamy and smooth, unblemished apart from the dark spiderweb threads creeping across his chest and converging right over where his heart rested. He looked like a broken vase, cracked open and badly repaired. The jagged lines strangely complemented the harsh tilt of his smile. “This is all I have from my second chance. Years of work, all for this.”

“I…I’m sorry—”

“I’m not finished,” Oikawa snapped. “Yes, Shoyo Hinata, I know the desperation you’re feeling. I felt it for years. But unlike me, you’re succeeding. Less than a year of toil, and here you are, with everything you wanted within your grasp, while I’m left with this ugly scar on my chest and demons crawling around my island.” He sat down and leaned forward, letting his kimono flutter around his legs in an airy way that couldn’t have been more different from his hard glare. “Now, you tell me, little samurai. You keep speaking about fairness. Where’s the fairness in that, hm?”

“It…it’s not,” Shoyo admitted, voice low. “It’s not fair, not to you or…or anyone. But…two wrongs don’t make a right. Cheating and punishing Tobio won’t undo anything that happened to you, Oikawa-sama. You’re just making things worse for yourself and everyone else on this island and…and…” Saying that name would be dangerous, especially in front of Oikawa.

Something flashed in Oikawa’s eye, making Shoyo’s tremulous nerves quail. “And who?”

“Just… give me one more night,” Shoyo diverted, “please. I’ll…I’ll give you anything you want, if you’ll let me see him while he’s awake, please, please let me speak to him.”

Interest and annoyance made a dangerous combination on Oikawa’s face. “I’m getting tired of your…dramatics, little samurai,” he said lowly, as though he hadn’t just revealed his own attempt to bring back the dead. “But fine. I still sense some of my magic on you. Give me whatever else you’re holding on to that’s mine, and you’ll see your prince.”

“Not just see,” Shoyo insisted. “Let me hear and speak to him, too.”

“That’s a terribly nice bow,” Oikawa remarked, ignoring Shoyo’s demand. “Fit for the nobility, even.” The words were flippant, matching Oikawa’s feigned apathy. But the longer he eyed the bow, his apathy shifted into realization. “Is that the prince’s bow?” He dragged his eyes from the bow to Shoyo, anger descending over him like a storm cloud. “Is that…is that the bow that killed Hajime?”

Shoyo stayed silent, this time from fear and the knowledge that any lies he tried to tell would be futile. That was all the answer Oikawa needed. “Give that to me.”

“And then I’ll see—?”

“You walked into my home with the weapon that killed the love of my life,” he said slowly, deliberately, with a sense of quiet that was far more terrifying than if he’d shouted with all the fury radiating off of him. “If you ever want to see that bastard again, alive, then you will give me that bow. Now. Before I change my mind about letting either of you live.”

Shoyo was silent as he unslung the bow from around his body and set it on the tatami mats. His hand shook around the bamboo, a cocktail of anger and fear pumping through him. There was not a doubt in his mind that Oikawa would see that threat through.

He knew that the best thing to do would be to stand up and hand the bow over directly to Oikawa, but he wasn’t sure he could trust his legs to hold his weight. Yes, annoyance framed the anger lining every inch of Oikawa’s body. That didn’t mean he was worth Shoyo pushing his own body’s limits just to avoid—

“Shoyo?!”

The sound of his name gasped in that voice made Shoyo’s heart leap to his throat and twinged his neck from how quickly he whipped around.

There, standing dumbfounded in the entrance of the throne room with a terrifying, panicked stranger in his shadow, was—“Tobio!”

It seemed to happen in an instant: Shoyo leapt to his feet, and Tobio lunged towards him. But before Shoyo could reach for him, chains burst from the floor and latched around his wrists, forcing his hands down and keeping him from moving.

Oikawa was on his feet, and a single “Mad Dog—!” made the glowering stranger catch Tobio and drag him back to the door. Tobio thrashed against him, shoving at his arms and trying to dig his heels in, and the whole time, he was screaming, “Let me go! Shoyo! Shoyo— please, let me go, Kyotani-san, please, Shoyo! Shoyo, don’t go, wait for me—!”

“Tobio!” Shoyo screamed back. He pulled against the chains, even as they shortened and forced him back to the ground. He didn’t care about his bruised knees hitting the floor, didn’t care about the sting of the metal cuffs cutting into his wrists. All that mattered was the sight of the man he loved, real and in front of him and just out of reach. That, more than anything, sank Shoyo into desperation, kicking at the floor and fighting the chains. “Tobio, you can’t sleep! You have to stay awake, please, I’ll come for you—!”

The screens to the throne room slammed shut, fully blocking him from Tobio. The injustice of their separation; the fury of getting so close; the frustration of laying out the signs of his arrival at night and still failing to get to him; the desperation to touch him, hold him, look at him tore through Shoyo. He was tired of Oikawa’s machinations, his skillful manipulation of words to keep Shoyo one step too far from what he wanted. He had endured weeks, months in the wild, slept through storms and winds, dueled a kitsune, stayed with a goddess and her husband, befriended a siren, and survived a magical storm, and this man—this pretty, frightening man—was single-handedly more effective at thwarting Shoyo than everything else.

Nothing else had worked. So he let instinct take over, let it burn through every thread of control he’d somehow managed to hold onto. He was like an animal, fighting against his cuffs with no thought spared for the now-searing pain at his wrists and the warmth dripping down his arms. “You bastard!” he screamed at Oikawa. “Let me go, you said I could see him, you liar, you sneak, you drugged him, I know you did, it’s not fair, let me go—!”

“Fair?” Oikawa snarled. He had collapsed back onto his cushion once the doors had shut behind Tobio, but now he pushed himself to his feet again and stalked towards Shoyo. Some distant part of Shoyo’s mind pricked at him with fear, but it was quickly overpowered by his wrath. “Again with ‘fair.’ I gave him his terms and he failed them. That should have been it. I could have easily had you thrown out the moment you stepped into my home. I would have even been within my rights to send you back into that storm. But no, I welcomed you in, accepted your deal, let you see Tobio, as we agreed.”

He crouched in front of Shoyo, keeping his silk robes from dragging through the droplets of blood dripping from the cuffs. “You want to know what’s not fair, little samurai?” he hissed, grasping Shoyo’s jaw in a firm grip and forcing him to hold still and meet his eyes. There was anger in that brown gaze, yes, but also grief. Maybe guilt might have crept through Shoyo, if single-minded rage hadn’t overtaken him. “I spent my whole life hiding who I am and being accepted by only one person. We ran away together, hid together, built this place together. He was tough and blunt and even mean sometimes, and he was the best person in the world, and he loved me. And all of that, everything he was, the life we’d built together, was gone in an instant, because of one spoiled brat. Tell me, does that sound fair?”

“It was an accident,” Shoyo growled, trying and failing to jerk his face out of Oikawa’s grip. “Tobio’s not a murderer, he would never kill a person on purpose! He saw a wolf! How was he supposed to know it was Iwaizumi-san?”

“Don’t you ever,” Oikawa hissed, leaning in until his breath beaded on Shoyo’s burning face, “speak his name.”

With that, Oikawa thrust Shoyo’s face away from him, snatched up the bow, and glided back to the dais, his anger nowhere to be seen in his elegant movements.

“We still have a deal.”

Oikawa froze, before slowly turning and pinning Shoyo under a sharp gaze. “What?”

“We made a deal,” Shoyo said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “One more night, in exchange for the bow.”

Fury burned bright in Oikawa’s pretty eyes. “You dare—”

“I do.” Shoyo raised his chin, forcing himself to meet his gaze. “One more night.”

Oikawa glared for another breath, before spitting, “Fine. Talk to your prince. It won’t change anything. He still won’t take a step off of this island. As long as this curse remains unbroken, he is tied to me.”

Desperate rage stung in Shoyo’s veins, a venom that he struggled to keep from spreading as the shackles finally fell from his wrists. He didn’t care what Oikawa said—he would get Tobio out of here if it was the last thing he did. For now, he forced himself to focus on the fact that he would finally, finally look into Tobio’s eyes that night. Surely he wouldn’t drink the tea now that he knew Shoyo was at the castle. Surely he would at least puzzle that out.

The flow of blood at his wrists had slowed, though some of it had dried on the cuffs and made their removal pang with fresh injury when they fell away. Shoyo held his hands up to make the blood flow away from his wrists as he rose to his feet, but they still throbbed and leaked sluggishly, and he had to be careful not to slip in the puddles of blood at his feet. He’d have to use his mother’s ointment on the wounds and ask Iwaizumi to wrap them after he washed them. Hopefully the river spirit wouldn’t mind—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Shoyo flinched, before slowly turning to look at Oikawa. The sorcerer leaned against his kyosoku in what looked like a leisurely sprawl, but that Shoyo knew was an exhausted slump. Despite that, his narrowed eyes still made Shoyo struggle to keep his voice steady. “Back to my camp.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not letting you run off and scheme an escape for Tobio. Kindaichi-chan, take him to a room again.”

Kindaichi jolted and hurried to step forward from where he stood behind Shoyo. “Y-yes, Oikawa-san.”

“My wrists need to be—”

“You’re a healer’s son,” Oikawa interrupted, eyes cold. “Use what your mother taught you and heal.” With that, he pushed himself to his feet and disappeared through an entrance behind the dais, leaving Shoyo and Kindaichi blinking at each other.

“Um…follow me, please.”

The walk to his room—his glorified cage, his mind supplied—was familiar to Shoyo, but it felt so much longer when he had to be mindful of not dripping blood through the halls. He ignored the sidelong glances Kindaichi kept stealing, until they reached the room and Kindaichi murmured, “I’ll bring some water.”

When he returned with the usual bucket of water, he wasn’t alone. “If Oikawa-san finds out about this, I’m blaming you,” said a new voice, sounding an awful lot like Hanamaki when he’d said the same to Matsukawa.

Shoyo looked up to see a new young man following Kindaichi into the room like a shadow. He was the slightest bit shorter than Kindaichi, with straight, dark hair parting in the middle to frame his face like curtains. His eyes were heavy-lidded, as though he were tired or bored, but there was still a sharpness to them that didn’t let any details escape their notice. “So you’re who everyone’s talking about.”

“Um…I guess so, yeah.” Shoyo rose to his knees and dipped into a bow. “My name is Shoyo Hinata. Are you the healer?”

“Oh, great. My reputation precedes me,” he sighed. “I’m Kunimi. What’s wrong with your wrists?”

“Spirits, man,” Kindaichi hissed. “What happened to your bedside manner?”

“I don’t see a bed.” Kunimi knelt in front of Shoyo and took his wrists in gentle hands that belied his flat voice. “Wow. You did some good damage.”

“Ah…thank you?”

“Not a compliment. Being so rough in handcuffs is pretty stupid. Could I have a wet rag?” he asked Kindaichi. He only looked back at Shoyo when he started soaking and dabbing away the dried blood. “You’re lucky they weren’t rusted. That would be a bitch to clean.”

“Yeah…thank you for helping me clean them.”

“Just doing my job.”

He carefully held both of Shoyo’s wrists, letting his fingertips brush the raw edges of the wounds while his eyes fluttered close. Before Shoyo could ask what he was doing, a gentle, warm glow began emanating from his fingertips, spreading along his wounds until they shone. An intense itch prickled beneath the glow, and when the light eventually eased away, Shoyo was stunned to see that healthy scabs had formed over the wounds, something that shouldn’t have happened for at least another couple of days. He’d known, from Kindaichi, that Kunimi had healing powers, but he still wasn’t prepared to truly see them at work.

Kunimi didn’t seem all that inclined to conversation, keeping his eyes away from Shoyo’s as he set about smearing some ointment over the scabs and began wrapping bandages around them. Shoyo would have been fine with letting him work in silence, if something hadn’t occurred to him. “If you’re the healer…have you been making Tobio’s tea?”

His careful fingers paused for the briefest moment, but Shoyo’s sharp senses still caught it. “...Yeah,” Kunimi admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on Shoyo’s wrists.

“Then…you’ve been giving him the sleeping draught, too?”

“Ah. How’d you figure that out?”

“I could taste the poppy seeds.”

That finally brought Kunimi’s eyes up to Shoyo’s. “Not bad. I didn’t know samurai get trained in healing.”

“Only a little. My mom taught me the rest.”

“A healer’s son?”

Shoyo nodded.

“Huh. That explains how you wrapped that so well,” Kunimi remarked, nodding at the bandages covering the healing wolf bite.

“Why did you do it?” Shoyo asked, ignoring the compliment. “Why would you knock him out if he just needed pain relief?”

“I usually don't. That was a special request from Oikawa-san.”

Shoyo had suspected as much, but that didn’t keep him from feeling suffocated with anger. “Did…did he tell you why?” he bit out, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

Kunimi didn’t respond at all to Shoyo’s anger, his answer coming as flat as ever. “Nope. He didn’t need to. I figured it had something to do with your visits.”

“And you just followed his orders without questioning them?”

“They weren’t orders,” Kunimi shot back, his voice finally sharpening with some of the edge in his eyes. “He just asked me to, and I agreed to do it. No offense, but I have no stake in any of this. I came here after Iwaizumi-san’s death. If Oikawa-san thinks I can do something to help ease his grief, then I won’t question it.”

In just a few minutes, Shoyo already had the sense that Kunimi wasn’t much of a talker, and that his long response was very out of the ordinary for him. Even Kindaichi was gaping at him. “Right. Sorry,” Shoyo murmured, abashed. “Then…if I ask you to leave the poppy seeds out for tonight…”

“Can’t. Oikawa might double check the tea after all your dramatics today,” Kunimi sniffed, only to grunt at Kindaichi’s nudge. “But…I can try to warn Kageyama. Maybe. No promises.”

“Thank you, Kunimi-san!” Shoyo cried.

“Gross, don’t call me ‘-san.’” Kunimi’s wrinkled nose relaxed as the tiniest curve tugged at his lips. “But you’re welcome, I guess.”

He smoothed down the ends of the bandages around Shoyo’s wrists, surprising him with how quickly he’d finished cleaning and dressing the wounds. “There. You should be all set. Try not to, like…I dunno, just don’t do anything too intense with your hands. Common sense.”

“Right! Of course!”

Kunimi’s eyes narrowed at Shoyo’s overeager agreement, but he didn’t respond beyond a shrug and standing up. “Do you need anything else?”

Shoyo shook his head, and that was all Kunimi needed as permission to leave. “Good luck with…everything. Don’t do anything else that you’d need my help with.”

He looked at Kindaichi and jerked his head towards the open screens. By the time Kindaichi got to his feet, Kunimi was already walking down the hallway. “Shoot, uh…I’ll come get you later!” Kindaichi reminded Shoyo before hastily shutting and locking the screens.

It was almost startling, how suddenly Shoyo was alone again, with only the sound of hurried footsteps keeping him company. Both men’s departures meant Shoyo couldn’t distract himself from the alternating sting and ache of his wrists. The pain was radiating through his body with every heartbeat, until it settled into every nerve and bone and radiated from him like a glow.

Maybe Tobio would have some pain relief tea leftover. The thought brought a smile to his face despite his pained grimace. Too bad he wasn’t planning on getting much sleep that night, because Tobio would finally be awake, and they would need the rest of the night to make up for lost time.

He held onto that wish as he curled up on the tatami floor and slowly, fitfully fell asleep.

☾

For the first time in his three nights at the castle, fear hung over Shoyo on the walk to Tobio’s room. His mouth was dry and tacky like it was stuffed with cloth, keeping him from making small conversation with Kindaichi, and he could see the other man sneaking worried glances at him from the corner of his eye.

Shoyo didn’t care, couldn’t care. He was too preoccupied with the terrible possibility of Tobio somehow not realizing the tea was putting him to sleep and drinking it again. If he still couldn’t figure everything out after seeing Shoyo in the throne room and hearing him say to “stay awake” that night, then Shoyo really didn’t know what he would do. There was a chance Kindaichi would be willing to help more than he already was, but how many days of convincing and nudging would that take? Just the thought of it exhausted Shoyo.

“Um…we’re here,” Kindaichi quietly announced, pulling Shoyo out of his spiraling thoughts. “I guess I don’t need to remind you about anything.”

“No…no, thank you.”

“Alright, then…see you in the morning.”

Shoyo waited for the click of the lock and Kindaichi’s fading footsteps down the hall before he turned to the familiar lump in the futon. “Tobio?”

Nothing.

“Tobio, are you awake?”

Silence.

Dread washed cold over Shoyo, rising higher and higher with each step until he felt like he was drowning from it by the time he knelt at the futon.

☾

The castle grounds passed in a daze around Shoyo, all his attention turned toward the information he had learned. A headache loomed at the edge of his mind—he was terrible at things like this, sorting through secrets and intrigue and figuring out how it all fit together.

Oikawa’s anger over Iwaizumi’s death was clearly still visceral, a flame that hadn’t dimmed at all in the past six years. It burnt hot enough that he wanted to condemn Tobio to a life of dangerous work and fights, but not enough to risk him actually dying from any of it.

And then there was the fact that he wanted Tobio asleep when Shoyo saw him. Why? Who was Oikawa trying to spite with that? Would he tell Tobio that Shoyo had visited? Was there a chance that he might see him fulfilling his guard work if he wandered around the island? He wasn’t sure he’d want to risk that, not unless Hajime was willing to come with him.

Speaking of Hajime…the image of the painting over the altar flickered in his mind. Shoyo didn’t have the sharpest eye when it came to art, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had seen a portrait of Hajime hanging in a butsudan. Oikawa would only have such an elaborate shrine in honor of someone he held close to his heart. And that person could have only been Iwaizumi…the Iwaizumi whose death had led to this whole ordeal in the first place.

But Hajime wasn’t dead…he didn’t think. He certainly seemed alive enough. He had given Shoyo enough playful nudges and ruffles to prove that he had some sort of corporeal form, not to mention his ability to transform into a wolf and fight the island’s monsters. But something about the wolf—its quiet focus, its coloring, its sudden appearance—made Shoyo think about a quiet story told by candlelight.

“That’s when I saw it: this big, beautiful, dark brown wolf. It didn’t notice me at first. It was too busy drinking from the river. But when it did, it didn’t…do anything. It didn’t snarl or try to attack. It didn’t even look upset. It just looked at me, huffed, and turned away.”

The similarities between his human form and the portrait in the butsudan, as well as the similarities between his wolf form and the wolf from Tobio’s story, would have been damning enough. But on top of all that were Hajime’s insistence on only sharing his given name and his familiarity with Oikawa and the island, neither of which he was willing to explain.

There were plenty of youkai and oni said to be trapped spirits of the dead, and they were all corporeal enough to pose a threat. Who was to say the same couldn’t apply to Hajime, even without a monstrous form?

Spirits…his head really did hurt. For once, Shoyo was glad for the climb down to the campsite, because it forced him to push aside his jumbled thoughts and focus on not slipping down the entire rocky face of the hill. By the time he made it to the riverbanks and caught sight of Hajime’s robes through the trees, his hands were newly scratched-up, and a dried streak of mud bit at his cheek. “I’m back,” he sighed.

Hajime jolted straight and looked over his shoulder to grin at Shoyo. “Hey! Welcome back! How did…?” His eyes flickered to Shoyo’s side, then behind him, and his question faded into a disappointed silence. “...Ah.”

“It didn’t work,” Shoyo muttered, plopping down next to Hajime and glaring into the fire. “I barely got him to agree to letting me see Tobio, and then Tobio just…slept the whole night. I dunno what Oikawa did, if he drugged him or put him under a spell, but…”

His brows creased from the effort of swallowing down the lump rising in his throat. No. No more crying. He was supposed to have emptied himself of tears in Tobio’s arms. “I’m going back tonight,” he declared after a deep sniff. “Yesterday, Oikawa wanted the magic bracelet he’d given Tobio. Maybe he’ll want one of the other magic things I have!”

“Yeah…maybe.” Shoyo glanced over at Hajime. The other man didn’t look surprised as he glared into the dwindling embers of the fire, as though he’d expected this outcome and was frustrated to be proven right. That was the final push Shoyo needed to open his mouth.

“Hajime-san?”

“Yeah?”

“Is…is your family name Iwaizumi?”

Hajime froze, and when he turned to Shoyo, his face was carefully expressionless. “Iwaizumi? Where’d that come from?”

The slightest bit of doubt stung Shoyo, but it just made him dig in his heels even more. “I’ve been wondering for a while…it feels like you know Oikawa really well? But you wouldn’t say how you knew him. Also…Tobio told me about…about the wolf he shot. Now that I think about it, when you transformed, you looked exactly like the wolf he’d described.”

“You didn’t say anything then.”

“No, because…I dunno, I thought it was a coincidence,” Shoyo admitted. “But then I went into Oikawa’s castle, and I saw the different altars he had for the dead, but only one had a whole butsuban dedicated to him…and there was a portrait. A portrait that looked exactly like—”

“—like me,” Hajime sighed with a tired grin. “Mm…nice job. I didn’t think you’d be much of a detective, kid.”

A pleased warmth rose to Shoyo’s cheeks, but confusion kept him from smiling just yet. “So…if you’re Iwaizumi…did you…not die?” The thought made both relief and anger clash in him. “Was Tobio cursed for…for nothing?”

The question surprised the grin off of Iwaizumi’s face, before a strange mix of guilt and understanding clouded his eyes. “No…no, I did die. But when Tooru cursed Kageyama, he kept me from moving on. The thought of someone suffering like that on my behalf was…spirits, Hinata, it was unbearable. But there wasn’t anything I could do. I couldn’t reveal myself to Tooru, or I would stunt any progress he made in grieving. But I couldn’t reach Kageyama to help him, either. I was tethered to this island, even though I died off of it. Maybe it’s because this is where Tooru and I built a life together, and his grief is part of what’s keeping me here.”

His eyes went distant as he talked, fixed on the glowing embers without really seeing them. “I guess, for the sake of honesty, I should tell you that that’s why I’m helping you. Your rescue mission is my best chance at Tooru seeing the error of his ways. If he doesn’t let Kageyama go…if he continues holding onto his grief and need for revenge…he’ll never heal. He’ll never move on from me.”

The skin around his eyes went tight, and he looked up at the forest canopy, blinking rapidly against what Shoyo assumed were tears. “He needs to realize that healing from his grief doesn’t mean he’s forgetting me. I don’t think that’s possible. We loved each other too much for that to just…be forgotten. But he can learn to be happy again without needing me at his side. And I think letting Kageyama go will be his best shot at that.”

He blinked, coming back to himself and looking a little surprised. “Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to talk so long.”

It was Shoyo’s turn to be surprised. That hardly felt long, especially compared to his own rambles. But he didn’t get a chance to reassure him, not before Iwaizumi continued, “Anyway…I understand if you don’t want my help after this. My reasons for helping you must seem pretty selfish.”

Shoyo shook his head furiously. “They’re not! I mean…I’m glad you have your own reasons for helping me! And you already told me that you were helping me so that Oikawa would begin healing. The only thing that’s different now is that…I know it’s more personal for you.”

“And is that good or bad?”

“Good!” Shoyo answered with a smile. “It means we’re helping each other save someone we love. It, um…makes me feel a little better about how much you’ve been helping me.”

Iwaizumi let out a surprised laugh and lightly ruffled Shoyo’s hair. “Hey, whatever helps you rest easy.” His smile dimmed as he pulled his hand away. “Do you have any idea what your next step will be?”

Shoyo slouched, ignoring the nostalgic echo of his mother scolding him for his posture. “Oikawa-sama told me not to return,” he muttered, “but Kindaichi said that if I could make it back up to the castle, he’d be obligated to show me in to see Oikawa-sama again.”

A soft huff of a laugh escaped Iwaizumi’s nose. “That sounds like Kindaichi,” he chuckled. “Figuring out how to get what he wants without breaking any rules. Keeps him from being fairly scolded.”

The words brought the memory of Yamaguchi’s sharp eyes and bashful smile to Shoyo’s mind and a wistful smile to his lips. “Yeah…I know someone like that, too.” His smile suddenly slipped as a certain part of Iwaizumi’s words fully registered in his mind. “Wait…what he wants? What does he want in all this?”

“He’s always had a strong moral compass, but a need to please people as well.” Another laugh slipped out of Iwaizumi as he shook his head. “He’s someone who will feel guilt-ridden for ages after committing some sort of wrong. It’s been interesting, seeing how clever he’s gotten about balancing those needs out.” He stole a sidelong glance at Shoyo, mischief sharpening his fond grin. “My guess is he doesn’t agree with Oikawa still punishing Kageyama after he got so close to breaking the curse, and he’s rooting for you to convince Oikawa to let Kageyama go.”

“Oh…” Kindaichi wasn’t the only one who seemed determined to get him in front of Oikawa. “Matsukawa-san helped me get to the castle from the first gate of the grounds. Does that mean he thinks Tobio should be let go, too?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened at the mention of the new name. “Ah…if he went to that kind of trouble, then yeah, I’d say so. And if he thinks that, then Hanamaki probably does, too.” His grin broadened into something between a smile and a grimace. “Those two kept that place going when Oikawa was barely functioning. I don’t even want to imagine what he would’ve done to himself if he didn’t have them to help hold him even a little bit together.”

There was something almost pained lining his face, though it flickered with the firelight bathing him in warmth. It looked like grief and love and anger and hope, everything that had been crystallizing around Shoyo’s heart in the months of his journey. Maybe it was that sense of recognition that made him ask, “What happened between you and Oikawa? For you to love each other so much?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes shot from the fire to Shoyo, wide with surprise before they melted with a melancholic smile. “I used to ask myself that everyday,” he snorted, sobering quickly. “Oikawa and I knew each other since we were kids, basically babies. I didn’t like him at first, but then we got into this big argument, probably over something stupid that feels like the end of the world to kids. Flames suddenly appeared in his hands, and my instinct to protect myself made me turn into a wolf. Neither of us had known we could do any of that before that argument. Suddenly we had committed crimes that were punishable by death, and we were each other’s only witness.”

“Did you tell your families?!”

“Yeah. We were kids. We still thought any problem could be fixed by them.” His sigh spoke to the opposite being true, although he went on to say, “They did end up helping, at least a little. My father taught me how to keep myself from changing because of my emotions, and Oikawa’s mother still had some illegal magic texts that would teach him to control his powers. It was supposed to help him contain them, make them smaller. But he didn’t want that. He wanted to enhance them.”

“Why?! If it could get him killed?!”

Iwaizumi’s lips twisted, though with regret and anger, Shoyo couldn’t tell. “For the strength. He wasn’t…the strongest kid. But he is the most stubborn, hardworking idiot I’ve ever known. He saw something only he could do, something he could use to protect himself, and he poured everything he had into it. I guess he decided he would rather die than be hurt.”

Shoyo couldn’t fathom a life where that was a choice he would make, nor did he want to.

Fondness melted the bitterness on Iwaizumi’s features. “A lot of people thought I was the stronger between the two of us, just because I could throw a punch and shoot an arrow, but they didn’t know anything. Tooru was the one to be scared of.”

“We got caught,” he continued, “of course we did. That kind of power can only be hidden for so long. So we ran. We hid until nightfall, snuck into our homes for the important things, and ran.”

What he was saying was heartbreaking, but he said it with an almost wistful grin. “I was already in love with him, and part of me believed he could love me back. But we were 13, and stupid, and ambitious, and suddenly we were all we had. I think…I think, no matter how we felt before, we would’ve come to love each other more than anyone else in the world. I was just lucky that love happened to be romantic.”

His wistful grin turned a little amused. “We were as good as married, leaving home together, traveling, settling down, creating a new home. We even ended up creating a family of sorts.” His eyes trailed back to Shoyo, and whatever he saw on his face made a laugh burst forth. “Not kids! We didn’t have babies, don’t worry,” he chuckled. “But we weren’t the only ones with banned abilities, nor were we the only ones who didn’t want to suppress them. Oikawa ended up building a network for us, because of course he did. Other sorcerers, kitsune, tengu, sirens, oni, other youkai, even gods—he’d track down anyone with any sort of magic and befriend them, because he’s the most annoying, charismatic, stubborn blockhead in the world.”

The insults spoken in a fond voice reminded Shoyo of grumbles of “dumbass” softened by the sweet notes of a smile. “Eventually we started gathering…well, I called them ‘strays’ at first, but that’s not fair. They were other young magic users from magicless homes, searching for a home where they could be themselves. Oikawa found them, heard they didn’t have anywhere to go, and welcomed them to our place. He had insisted on living in the abandoned palace as a joke, but then we ended up rebuilding the homes around the palace grounds just as we’d rebuilt the palace. With magic,” he clarified when he took another look at Shoyo, “not by hand. Though I did have to fortify the parts that he missed.”

As he spoke, Iwaizumi had shifted through a number of emotions, but finally, to Shoyo’s awe and sadness, his eyes began shining with tears. “Five years,” Iwaizumi whispered, “we shared that life for five years. Loved each other for five years. Maybe that doesn’t sound like much to most people, but after everything we’d been through, it felt like a lifetime. Still, it’s been six years since I died. More time than we’d had together. He should’ve healed by now, but he’s still…fuck. He’s not just hurting that poor kid. He’s hurting himself…and me.”

“Maybe that’s why Oikawa-san is still so angry,” Shoyo murmured, grimacing when Iwaizumi raised his brows.

“How do you mean?”

“If…if Tobio hadn’t”—the words stalled on his tongue, but Shoyo forced himself to say his mistake out loud—“hadn’t killed you, then you could’ve had twice the time together that you ended up having. What Oikawa-san’s doing is wrong and unfair, and I’m still super mad he took Tobio away and wants to keep punishing him for what he did, but…” He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the truth of what he was going to say. “…but I can’t imagine how I’d react to someone killing Tobio. And we’ve only known and loved each other for a year.”

“But it’s been six years,” Iwaizumi reminded him gently.

“It’s been six years,” Shoyo echoed in agreement.

Silence fell over the little campsite. Iwaizumi began moving around and pulling together a meal, while Shoyo stayed in place and kept staring into the embers as Iwaizumi coaxed them back into proper flames. He wasn’t aware of his eyes drifting shut until a gentle shake at his shoulder jolted him awake again. “Hey, you’re exhausted,” Iwaizumi said, crouching in front of Shoyo with understanding eyes. “Go wash up. I’ll have this ready for you to eat when you get back, and then you can get some rest, alright?”

Shoyo instinctively opened his mouth to protest, before he remembered who, or what, he was talking to. “…You don’t need to sleep or eat, do you?”

Iwaizumi smirked, clearly seeing where Shoyo’s train of thought had taken him. “Nope.”

“Right. Sorry.”

☾

Shoyo didn’t mean to sleep most of the day away. It made sense when he thought about it in hindsight: he had only slept for a few hours the previous night, and even though it was dreamless, it was still a fitful sleep. Of course a night of unrestful sleep after a day of hiking and one of the most high-stakes interactions he’d ever had would leave him exhausted. That didn’t ease his embarrassment whatsoever when Iwaizumi gently shook him awake and he saw the sun sliding down the sky. “Shoot…what time is it?!” he stumbled over his words as he jolted upright.

“Relax, you’ve still got a few hours until sundown,” Iwaizumi reassured him. “Eat before you go. Do you need me to come with you?”

“I don’t think so,” Shoyo mumbled around a mouthful of dried meat. “I could make it back down alone, so going up shouldn’t be too bad, right?”

“Right.” Iwaizumi fell quiet and watched Shoyo re-secure the talisman under his robes. “Be careful with that,” he suddenly spoke up, startling Shoyo while tucking his kosode back into his hakama. “If Oikawa asks you for another magic item, make sure he doesn’t see the talisman.”

“I know! I don’t want to be thrown out of the castle grounds if it comes off!”

“Well, no, not because of that. You won’t be sent back down the mountain, you’ll just…feel really nauseous.” An amused quirk of the lips lightened Iwaizumi’s expression when he saw Shoyo’s mouth fall open in a small, surprised “o.” “The talisman’s magic isn’t the problem. If Oikawa sees you with it, he’ll recognize it as mine, and…well…”

“He’ll think I stole it from you somehow,” Shoyo finished, voice dull with numb realization.

“And then access to the castle will be the least of your worries.”

Shoyo smoothed down his robes with a nervous swallow. “Okay…alright, I’ll…I’ll try to be careful.”

“Hey, don’t let it preoccupy you,” Iwaizumi chuckled, taking Shoyo by the shoulders and making him meet his eyes. “You don’t have to worry unless you’re planning on stripping in front of him.” That startled a laugh out of Shoyo, earning him a satisfied grin from Iwaizumi. “Just make sure he doesn’t know you’ve got it. That’s all.”

“Alright. Thanks, Ha— ahhh, I mean, Iwaizumi-san.”

Iwaizumi blinked, his grin melting into melancholy. “Sure…you’re welcome. Now, go. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Shoyo murmured again. “I’ll…try not to need it.” The sound of Iwaizumi’s scoff eased the knot in Shoyo’s stomach as he left behind the campsite and the comforting murmur of the river.

The climb up the final hill was easier this time, and when he arrived at the first gate and looked up at Matsukawa’s surprised expression, he wasn’t nearly as worn down. “Hi, Matsukawa-san.”

“You shouldn’t be back here,” Matsukawa called down, concern softening the blunt words.

“But I am.” Shoyo tried to offer a smile. “So, um…may I come in?”

“Hey, Makki,” Matsukawa sighed, “any thoughts?”

A pink head of hair appeared next to Matsukawa, frowning down at Shoyo. “Yeah, no, you started this,” Hanamaki answered Matsukawa, voice as flat as his stare that remained unwavering on Shoyo. “Why’d you come back, kid? Oikawa didn’t give you what you wanted?”

“No. He’s still got Tobio.”

Hanamaki didn’t looked surprised by his answer—no doubt Matsukawa had told him everything Shoyo told him the previous day—but he did look a touch abashed. “Yeah…thought he wouldn’t.” He and Matsukawa stared at each other for a beat, before he sighed, “Let him through. If Oikawa asks, this was your idea.”

“Of course,” Matsukawa scoffed, his smirk softening when he looked at Shoyo. “I’ll be down there in a sec.”

That made Shoyo pause. “Um!” he managed to pipe up before Matsukawa disappeared to descend from the wall. “I can make it up by myself! You don’t have to—”

“With all due respect,” Matsukawa smoothly interrupted, “I’m coming to keep an eye on you more than guide you.”

“Oh.” It was all Shoyo could think to say as he fidgeted with his robes and waited for Matsukawa to join him. The talisman was like a brand on his skin the entire walk up to the castle, which felt both longer than the first time and like it passed in a blink.

“I gotta say,” Matsukawa remarked when they reached the deepest, actually-occupied circle of the castle grounds, “I didn’t expect you to return. Oikawa was pretty adamant about you not coming back after this morning.”

Had it really just been that morning? With everything Shoyo had learned since then and the long nap he’d taken, it felt like it all happened a few days ago at least. “If he didn’t want me to return, he shouldn’t have tricked me,” Shoyo huffed, scowling. “He didn’t let Tobio go. He didn’t even let me really speak to him. I dunno what he did to him, but he didn’t wake up at all last night, it’s not fair!”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa sighed, not sounding at all surprised. Shoyo wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or infuriating. “He’s known for a lot of things. Verbal manipulation is one of those things. ‘Fairness’ is, uh…not.” He cut a smirk at Shoyo, looking almost impressed. “I’m not sure if your refusal to stay away will help or harm you, but it’s definitely impressive.”

“I don’t want to be impressive. I just want to leave with Tobio.”

“I’m not sure that’ll happen,” Matsukawa hummed, opening the passageway into the castle, “but you’ve definitely gotten further than anyone expected.”

Again, Shoyo wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea of the castle’s occupants talking about him and his endeavors. It was to be expected, but still. If they were going to talk about him, some support would have been nice.

“Hello, Kindaichi,” Matsukawa greeted the younger man, who didn’t look at all surprised by Shoyo’s return. If anything, Shoyo thought he could see him biting back a tiny smile. “Look who’s returned.”

“Welcome back, Hinata,” Kindaichi said, bending his neck in a small bow. “Follow me, please.”

Huh. Was that the third or fourth time he said that to Shoyo? Either way, it was already sounding familiar to his ears, even a little comforting. This time, when he stood in front of the heavy wood entrance to the great hall, his heartbeat was steadier and his breaths didn’t shudder as much, even when he saw the portrait of Iwaizumi again. Now that he had confirmation that it really was him, it was impossible to not see just how much of Iwaizumi the simple portrait managed to capture.

Here goes nothing, Iwaizumi-san. If Shoyo let his imagination a little loose, he could imagine the portrait’s smirk was actually Iwaizumi’s small, reassuring grin.

His pulse still spiked at the low rumble of the doors sliding open to reveal Oikawa once again lounging against his kyosoku. Shoyo noticed that there were no longer guards flanking the doors, leaving only the two at the back of the platform. It was a message: Oikawa didn’t see Shoyo as enough of a threat to be worth the extra manpower.

Fine. Let him think that. Shoyo wasn’t interested in physically overpowering him, anyway.

“Well, well,” Oikawa hummed, unmoving besides his eyes following Shoyo as he knelt in the same spot as the previous day. “I wish I could say this is a surprise, but alas. I could already tell what a pain you would end up being.”

“Hello, Oikawa-sama.”

“Again with the formalities. Just get to it, won’t you?” His lips curled into a cruel smirk. “What’s the problem today, hm? Unsatisfying night with our princeling?”

Our. The idea of Oikawa feeling any sort of ownership over Tobio made revulsion and anger spear through Shoyo’s gut. “What did you do to him?”

“Why, you wound me, samurai-chan,” Oikawa simpered with a flamboyance that was missing from his heavy gaze. “Maybe Tobio-chan was just more tired than usual. He did have an arduous day yesterday, all alone on our lovely mountain.” He said the words so casually, but there was a glint in his eyes that told Shoyo he knew exactly how painful the thought of Tobio’s punishment would be to him.

Shoyo tried, he really tried to hold back his anger. But it still slipped into his words, turning them hard as stone as they fell from his lips. “I know what he’s like after a hard day. He didn’t sleep like that. He always woke up for me.”

“Ah, but he didn’t have Kunimi-chan working his magic on him.” Shoyo’s spine straightened with shock. He knew it. He knew it. There really was— “Now now, samurai-chan, let’s not let our imaginations run away from us. I’m just referring to the nightly tea he’s given to ease his pain.”

“Pain?” Shoyo knew Oikawa was trying to provoke him, but he couldn’t help himself. “Why does he need something for pain every night? What are you doing to him?”

“Again with the harsh conclusions. He’s simply got arduous work out there. And, well…” Satisfaction smoothed the sharp lines around his eyes and lips. “There are the lingering effects of the curse. I wasn’t expecting those, but I can’t say I’m all that upset by them.”

“What. Effects.”

“Did you know six years of being cursed to be a wolf will leave an effect on one’s physique? Apparently his body still expects to change in the morning and night. I’m sure he would be spared all that if he managed to break the curse, but, well…” Oikawa’s eyes flickered over Shoyo’s form, clinical and assessing. “I suppose we’ll never know.”

“What do you mean?” Shoyo demanded. “It’s your curse! You’re already holding Tobio prisoner! Lift the curse off of him! Isn’t he being punished enough?!”

“Don’t try to tell me what he does or doesn’t deserve,” OIkawa hissed, all traces of false pleasantry wiped off of his face. “This is nothing compared to what he did to Hajime.”

Shoyo ignored the jolt the sound Iwaizumi’s given name sent through him. It was his first time hearing anyone besides Iwaizumi and himself saying it. Oikawa made it sound like a caress and a prayer at once, as though he relished the feeling of every syllable on his tongue. “No, it’s not! Tobio made a terrible mistake, he knows he did, and he’s spent the past six years paying for it! Willingly! He followed your rules, he met your conditions! He did everything you asked him to!”

“What’s six years to the life he stole?” Oikawa rebutted with venom. “He didn’t even meet my conditions! He couldn’t earn enough of your trust, could he?”

“That’s not his—!” Shoyo caught himself by the skin of his teeth. No, he wouldn’t argue this again. Oikawa was just trying to get him to waste his time and lead himself nowhere. “Let me see him again,” he said instead. “Let me actually see and talk to him. Don’t…don’t make him sleep tonight, please.”

Oikawa’s eyes were wide with incredulous anger. “I don’t think you understand the position you’re in,” he scoffed. “You will take what I offer, and you’ll be thankful for it. You should be groveling at my feet in gratitude that I let you see your little prince at all in exchange for a measly bracelet. As a matter of fact, I don’t think taking the bracelet did either of us any good.” He abruptly leaned forward, visibly probing over Shoyo’s entire person. “I can still sense my magic on you. Why? What else have you got?”

Shoyo’s mouth went dry. The only thing he could think of was the talisman, the one thing he couldn’t let Oikawa know he had. “I—I don’t know. The bracelet was the only thing I had from you.”

“Has anyone told you you’re a terrible liar?” His gaze caught on Shoyo’s pack. “...Empty that out.”

“What? No!”

“Do as I say,” Oikawa snapped, “or you can say goodbye to any chance you’ll have to so much as glimpse your princeling.”

Shoyo swore every part of himself, down to his very nerves, vibrated with anger, making his hold on his pack unsteady as he forced himself to obey Oikawa’s demand. All of his things fell to the tatami mats in an assortment of dulled thuds and clatters, punctuated by his kimono from Tobio landing on top of everything in a silken pile.

“Move those aside,” Oikawa ordered, voice clipped. Again, Shoyo obeyed, moving the smooth robes from his things and holding them to his chest instead. Part of him wanted to shove his nose into the folds and try to catch the slightest whiff of the little house in the mountains, but he knew that would be a display of weakness that Oikawa would latch onto. So he just held them close and hoped they hid the tremble of his hands.

Thankfully, Oikawa’s focus was fixed on the sprawl of his smaller belongings. His eyes skipped over most of them, occasionally catching on the gifts he’d collected on his quest: Osamu’s empty bag of wind, Yachi’s shell, Akaashi’s feather, and Tanaka’s compass, amongst other things.

But his eyes didn’t truly stop until they reached the candle from Shoyo’s mother. There were a few nicks in it from all of the bumping it had no doubt endured in all the tumbles Shoyo had taken, but it was still one of the loveliest things in his pack, with its beautiful color and the intricate patterns that hadn’t been melted away. “Oh, my,” Oikawa chuckled. “I haven’t seen that in a while. Bring it here, won’t you?”

In a while? What?

Shoyo numbly followed Oikawa’s instructions, his mind tumbling over the implications of that simple phrase. In a while…meaning he’d seen it before. It was undeniably a similar color to the kimono Shoyo had first seen Oikawa in, as well as the pale robes worn by Matsukawa, Hanamaki, and the other guards manning the gates to the grounds. But Shoyo had let himself believe that it was all just a strange coincidence, because the alternative was…was…

“It was you,” he stated numbly when he stood in front of Oikawa, holding the candle close to his chest. He wasn’t going to give it up without answers and another deal. “You gave this to my mom.”

“Well, yes, obviously,” Oikawa scoffed, holding his hand out with casual command. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize that before. You and Tobio-kun really do deserve each other, you little fools.”

“You gave this to my mom,” Shoyo repeated, voice firmer. “You knew she was suspicious of the wolf. You knew she would want me to look at him. You…you sabotaged Tobio! You did this!!”

“I didn’t sabotage anyone. I provided the tools, but in the end, you followed your worst impulses. You made that choice.” He moved his fingers in a “come hither” gesture, his frown deepening when Shoyo still didn’t hand the candle over. “Did you really think I wasn’t keeping an eye on the princeling? A curse would hardly be satisfying if I didn’t get to at least enjoy some glimpses of it in action. I happened to check in on Tobio-chan when he was taking you back home, and I decided to linger with you for once. And what do you know, there was your mother, expertly getting the truth of everything out of you. She went searching for a candle of her own volition. All I had to do was pretend to be a salesman and provide her with what she wanted.”

“You still cheated.” Shoyo’s knuckles turned white from the force of his grip on the candle. “You interfered. I never would have lit the candle if you didn’t sell it to my mom in the first place!”

“Are you really going to argue with me about the terms of the curse I made?”

“Yes! The curse was already almost impossible to break, and you made it even harder without Tobio knowing!” The memory of the wax burning Tobio and sinking into the burns to worsen them rose in Shoyo’s mind. “You…you made the wax burn him. You made it hurt even more.”

“You don’t want to know what I could have done to him,” Oikawa snarled. He plucked the candle out of Shoyo’s grip, patience clearly drained. “Now, you can either leave here empty-handed, or you can wait to see your princeling in whatever state you find him.”

There was so much Shoyo wanted to do to Oikawa now that he was standing right in front of him. So many ways to let out all the rage simmering below his skin and making his hands shake with the desire to claw at him. Instead he only walked, stilted, from the dais and shoved his things into his pack with jerky, wooden movements. He was silent the entire time, until he rose to his feet with his pack on his shoulder. Only then did he face Oikawa and ask, “Is this how you made all those ‘friends’ I met? By manipulating and cheating them?”

Oikawa’s pretty face darkened with anger, but he twirled the candle between his fingers idly, and his voice was falsely light when he answered, “Oh, no. That’s a privilege I reserve only for those who robbed me, first. Now go wait in your little room until you’re called like a good pet. That’s all you samurai are at the end of the day, aren’t you?”

Shoyo had never, in his entire life, imagined he could feel such pure, visceral rage. If Oikawa hadn’t swept out of the room at that moment, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done. As it was, when he turned towards Kindaichi and Matsukawa, the younger man flinched at whatever he saw on Shoyo’s face. “Hinata, I…I…”

“Don’t apologize,” Shoyo bit out. “It’s not your fault. Just…show me where to go.” Matsukawa’s pitying gaze rested heavy on him but he didn’t spare him a glance. He only brushed past him with a mutter: “He’s not manipulative. He’s just cruel.”

He was gone before Matsukawa could respond, but as he followed Kindaichi away from the throne room, his sharp ears still caught the sound of a slow, weary sigh.

☾

After so many months of waking up to the sound of Tobio settling down at his side, it was surreal to slip in and peer at a sleeping Tobio. Even though he’d been expecting to find him already unconscious in the futon, his heart still sank at the sight. “Tobio, it’s me,” he whispered, kneeling next to the futon and leaning in until his lips brushed his ear. “Can you hear me? Are you dreaming of me?”

He pulled away just in time to see Tobio’s lips part around a silent sigh. He looked so peaceful, and even a little more alert—when Shoyo rested a hand on his cheek, he could’ve sworn Tobio pressed into the touch just a little bit. Shoyo wanted to do so much: he wanted to press kisses all over his relaxed face, hold him tight, shake him until he somehow woke up, bury his face into his chest and scream from frustration.

He didn’t do any of that. He had a plan when he arrived at the castle, and dammit, he was going to see it through. First, Natsu’s bracelet. The knot was stubborn, giving him enough time to wince at how upset she would be if it was found and taken away. Hopefully she’d only be upset for a little bit, especially if Shoyo lost it to get Tobio back.

His guilt wasn’t as nauseating as he managed to slip the bracelet from his wrist and tied it around Tobio’s, tugging the knot tight and brushing a kiss to the soft skin it rested on.

Next was the ointment. Shoyo still had a bit left, enough for a small smear on Tobio’s cheek to feel worth it if it meant he’d know Shoyo was there. With any luck, he’d instinctively wipe it away when he woke up, before anyone else could spot it and clean it off. Even if it was gone by the time he woke up, the smell would still linger. Surely, surely he’d recognize the smell. They’d definitely used it enough for it to linger in his mind.

And that…that was it. That was his big plan. Without knowing what was causing Tobio to sleep so deeply, Shoyo couldn’t do anything to actively counteract it. He could only hope that he would understand that Shoyo was here, that he’d made it and would take him home. Maybe then he could resist whatever was keeping him asleep and be awake the next day.

“Stupid Sleepy-yama,” Shoyo mumbled, a small smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “I’m gonna keep you up all night when we get out of here. You owe me that much, dumbass.” Tobio’s brows furrowed, as though he could hear Shoyo using the taunt that Tobio used, but they relaxed when Shoyo pressed a kiss over the wrinkles. “Geez,” Shoyo huffed with a soft laugh. Fondness bloomed in his chest, growing until it was almost painful. “Why’d you have to be so lovable, huh? I went through a whole quest for you, and you had to go and be worth every bit of it, even when you’re asleep!”

His laughter faded away as he gazed down at Tobio, brushing his overlong bangs out of his face and tracing over the curve of his cheekbones. His beauty was still startling, all smooth lines and sharp angles that were softened in sleep. He was beautiful, and it didn’t matter. Shoyo would’ve come this far no matter what he looked like.

With that thought swelling in his heart, Shoyo slipped beneath the covers and pressed in close. His ear rested over Tobio’s heart, and he let the steady beat set the rhythm of his words as he began to quietly tell Tobio about everything that had happened since they were parted. He didn’t know if Tobio could hear him while unconscious, and he didn’t care. He still described everything, even the wolf and river spirit.

The only thing he didn’t mention was Iwaizumi. The lingering spirit seemed reluctant to be known about, and Shoyo didn’t want to cause any misplaced guilt in Tobio over his rescue being aided by the very man he’d killed. That…that would be something Shoyo could explain after they got out of here.

“Oikawa took back his bracelet and candle,” he whispered, fingers tracing the seams of Tobio’s yukata over his chest. “I guess he thinks his magic can be used if it stays outside of the island. I dunno what he thinks I’ll do with any of it, but whatever…at least I get to see you. Even if you’re asleep the whole time. Jerk.”

Mentioning the candle abruptly reminded him of the wounds the melted wax had left on Tobio. Shoyo’s fingers stilled on the stitches, before he sat up and carefully loosened the ties of Tobio’s yukata until he could lift the folds from his chest.

There, right where those fateful drops of wax had fallen to his skin, remained three mild, but still raw burns. When Shoyo brushed his fingertips over them, extra heat rose from the skin, and the skin around Tobio’s eyes tightened the slightest bit. “It’s been months,” Shoyo mumbled to himself, brows furrowing. “These should’ve healed by now. Didn’t that healer guy see these? And he didn’t give you anything?”

He wasn’t sure how effective his mother’s ointment would be in the face of magically-caused wounds, but he had to try. Those burns were his fault. The least he should do was try something to help them heal a little more. So he dipped his finger into the dollop of ointment he’d left on Tobio’s cheek, and carefully spread some of it over the burns, guilt tasting sour on his tongue when Tobio flinched again. “I know,” he whispered, “I know it hurts. I’m sorry, Tobio…I’m so sorry I did this to you.” His guilt wasn’t just sour anymore. It was a festering, rotten thing, curdling in his stomach and making him almost sick.

He didn’t become sick. His eyes just burned with tears, and he did nothing to keep them from overflowing. “Will you forgive me? When you wake up?” Of course, he got nothing in response. There was no reason for that to suddenly change. But it still made defeat settle heavy in Shoyo. “Please be awake tomorrow,” he murmured in a pathetic plea. And then, in one last attempt at breaking through Tobio’s heavy sleep, he cupped one cheek in a careful hand, and slowly, gently pressed his lips to Tobio’s.

The feeling of those warm, soft lips not responding to his kiss would have dealt another crack to Shoyo’s heart, if he hadn’t noticed something else that was strange. With furrowed brows, he kissed Tobio again, this time letting his tongue run along his lip.

There it was again. He hadn’t imagined it. There was a strange taste on Tobio’s lips, something strangely bittersweet beneath the mixture of lemongrass, and ginger. It tasted familiar…like the draught of poppy seeds he took ahead of boat trips to knock him out.

Of course. Of course. How could he be so stupid? How could he not have realized it before? How could he keep himself from feeling overwhelmed with relief? If the sleeping draught was in the tea, then that meant Tobio’s impossibly-deep sleep was preventable. Once Tobio realized what was happening, then all he’d need to do would be to avoid drinking his nightly tea, and then finally, finally he would be awake for Shoyo.

“You better figure it out, stupid,” Shoyo laughed through his tears of relief. “I’m here, you have to realize I’m here, okay? I made it, I’m here to take you home, but you have to stay awake, please.” He gazed down at Tobio’s features, appreciating the way he’d relaxed out of his pained grimace once Shoyo stopped touching his burns and covered them back up beneath his retied robes.

One day, hopefully soon, Shoyo would be able to kiss those sleepy, sighing lips and feel them respond sweetly as Tobio slowly emerged from his dreams. But for now, he had to be satisfied with stealing another kiss from unresponsive lips as he curled back against Tobio. With nothing left to say or do, Shoyo let himself begin to drift away to the steady beat of Tobio’s heart. He was right on the edge of sleep when four words rose to his lips.

☾

He was in the woods. His childhood forest. And in his hands was the familiar, dreaded weight of his father’s bow.

“No…no, no, no,” Shoyo whispered. His fingers tightened around the bow until it shook in his grip, the wood creaking to the beat of his quickening breaths. He couldn’t be back here. He didn’t want to be back here. Because if he was back in these woods, and not the forest in the mountains, then Tobio wouldn’t be there. He didn’t know who would show up if not Tobio. The wolf? Or the old, shapeless form that had haunted him for years after his father’s death?

It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. If he couldn’t see Tobio, then why was he here? What was the point? Why was this dream returning to what it had been before?

The familiar sound of rustling leaves reached him, but he didn’t look up. He just sank to his knees, clutching the bow until it creaked in his fingers. All he could do was quietly sob over his shaking hands and soak the earth with his tears. “Tobio,” he whispered, “come back to me. Please. Everything hurts, it…it hurts, I don’t—”

“Shoyo.”

That wasn’t Tobio’s voice. That…that voice was impossible. It had been so long since Shoyo had heard it, he almost didn’t recognize it for a beat.

Then, with a gasp, his head jerked up and his eyes snapped to the speaker’s face. “...Dad?”

“Hey, kiddo.”

He looked both exactly like Shoyo remembered and unrecognizable all at once. Similar to Tobio, his face was a little murky, the features no longer fresh in Shoyo’s mind after so many years. But his bright hair, samurai robes, the dark red hilt of his katana, and his warm smile were unmistakable.

Shoyo’s next sob tore out of him in a disbelieving laugh. The bow fell out of his hands as he shot to his feet and wrapped his arms tight around his father. He had grown since his father’s death when he was 12, and he could no longer bury his face in his chest like he used to. But he could still burrow into his shoulder, his tears dampening his robes and flowing faster when warm arms that he hadn’t felt in so long wrapped around his shoulders and held him close. “Shhhhh, hey, what’re you crying for?” his father murmured, a soft laugh coloring his words. “Didn’t you want to see me?”

“Of course I did,” Shoyo wept, words muffled into his father’s robes. “Dad…Dad, you’re here, how’re you here, I never…you never…I missed you, we all missed you, I wanted to see you so bad, I’m so tired, everything hurts, I don’t know what I’m doing—”

His father gently hushed him again, whispering, “I know, kiddo, I know…I’m sorry for you leaving all. That wasn’t fair to any of you, especially you, Shoyo. You were so young.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad,” Shoyo laughed through his tears. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. I at least have to apologize for making you wait this long.” He pulled away from Shoyo, grasping his shoulders with a gentle pressure to keep him from holding on. “How long have you been coming here in your dreams? With my bow?”

“Since…since you died,” Shoyo admitted, staring down at his empty hands.

“Oh, kiddo…were you alone the whole time?”

“No.” A lump lodged in his throat again, but he talked through it, even as his voice shook with tears. “I…I was alone for a while, but this past year, I…I had someone.”

“Ah…this…‘Tobio’ kid, hm?” When Shoyo’s eyes shot up to stare at his father, he was met with a kind, mildly-teasing smile. “The mysterious heir who swept my son off his feet. He’s the reason you’re on this journey, isn’t he?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Is he worth it?”

“Yes!” Just like that, Shoyo’s voice no longer shook. It was steady with certainty, as it always was when he defended Tobio. “He is, Dad, he’s worth all of it and more. He saved Natsu! Do you know about that?”

“I do.” That teasing smile gentled into one with true love and fondness as his father rested a calloused hand on Shoyo’s cheek. “I’m incredibly grateful to him, for saving Natsu and easing your mother’s mind. But Shoyo…for you to go sailing for him…he must be someone special.”

“He is,” Shoyo insisted. “I…I love him, Dad. It’s…I feel a love for him that I thought I’d only ever see between you and Mom. I would sail through a hundred storms for him.”

“Well…let’s first make sure you make it through this one, hm?”

The reminder made a sharp pain stab at Shoyo’s temple, and he flinched against his father’s hand. “Hey, hey, hey,” his father soothed him, “stay with me, kiddo.”

“It hurts…”

“I know…spirits, do I know. But you’re so strong, you’re doing so well. And you’re not alone, you’ve got that siren with you.”

Shoyo slowly nodded, his eyes opening from their pained squint to flicker over his father’s face. “...Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Was this…what it was like? When you…you…”

“No, not at all,” his father quickly answered, his voice hovering somewhere between reassuring and apologetic. “It was faster for me, practically instant. And I didn’t have a siren helping me through the storm.”

He smiled, and Shoyo’s lips twitched in response, only to return to solemnity when he asked, “How are you here? Are you…are you real?”

His heart squeezed at the apology in those warm eyes. “No…I’m sorry, Shoyo, I wish I were. I’d give anything to really be here with you.”

Shoyo’s lip trembled, but he still asked, “Were any of these dreams real? Was…was Tobio ever real in these?”

“Oh, Sho…little sun, I’m sorry. But I think you know…none of these dreams were real. Anyone you saw here was just in your mind.”

A sob shook in Shoyo’s throat, but before it could escape, his father was cupping his face and making him meet his eyes. “No, no, no, don’t cry, Shoyo. Listen to me, these still matter. They’re not real, but they matter. You know why?” He tearfully shook his head. “Because your love is real. That’s what these dreams are, a manifestation of all the love you hold in your beautiful heart.”

“Then why am I always so scared? I was always so scared, Dad, it didn’t stop until Tobio.”

“I know. They’ve been full of your grief and fear, and I’m so sorry that they’ve been haunting you for so long. But that grief and fear comes from your love, kiddo. You grieved me because you loved me. You were scared of not providing for your mother and Natsu because you love them. And your anxiety around not knowing what Tobio looked like was because you were falling so deeply in love with him, and now you want to do right by him. You want to rescue him, and look at the lengths you’re going to for him!”

“I’m just…I’m so scared.”

“You’re scared because you’re doing something that would terrify anyone. And in doing that, in embarking on this journey, you are being so brave, my boy. You’re scared, but you chose to make this journey. You chose to love and rescue Tobio. And you keep choosing him. You’re choosing him, even when it would be the easiest thing in the world to give up. And by all the spirits, Shoyo, that’s a powerful thing. Your choices show so much of your heart, and what a beautiful heart it is.”

Every word his father uttered helped steady Shoyo’s breathing, until he could finally pull in slow, deep breaths. Then, out of nowhere, a soft laugh escaped him, earning him a bemused smile from his father. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just…Mom said you’d be against me going on this quest.”

“Oh, I would,” his father scoffed. “Everything in me wants you to turn back around and go home. But for better or worse, you’re my son. Nothing I could say would have discouraged you, especially when the love of your life is on the line.”

Shoyo’s breath caught. He’d known, deep inside, that that’s what Tobio was to him. But it still sent a jolt through him, hearing it said out loud.

The love of his life. What a rare, beautiful, terrifying person to find.

Another throb of pain stabbed through his head, and this time, it was accompanied by an ache spreading through his whole body. The pain must have shown on his face, because his father’s smile slid off of his face, replaced by a melancholic gaze. “You’re going to wake up soon. You did it, Shoyo. You survived. You did what I couldn’t do.”

“Don’t say that,” Shoyo whispered, fresh tears rising to his eyes. “Dad, don’t say that, don’t go, not yet.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“Don’t! Dad, please, I don’t know when I’ll see you again!”

“I don’t, either. With any luck, you won’t see me again for a long, long time.” He took Shoyo’s face in his hands and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. “You have a long life ahead of you, and you’re going to fill it with so much love and happiness. I can’t wait to hear about all of it one day.”

“Dad—”

“I love you, Shoyo. Give my love to your mother and Natsu.”

“Dad—!”

Shoyo awoke with a gasped sob. The first thing he processed was pain. Everything hurt: his temple where the boat had knocked him out, his muscles from the strain of rowing and swimming in the storm, and his throat from accidentally swallowing salt water. More than anything, his heart hurt, throbbing with an ache so deep, he thought he could die from it.

“Hinata?”

Some of the ache eased when he fully opened his eyes and saw the now-familiar sight of Yachi looking down at him, eyes wide with concern. He opened his mouth to reassure her…and immediately rolled over to vomit instead. The salt water burned on the way up, each wave of nausea hammering a nail into his head. He was distantly aware of Yachi gasping, “Oh, no!” before a hand began pressing soothing paths down his back.

Eventually he had nothing left to purge, and his stomach was blessedly a little steadier as he rolled to his back and away from his mess. “…Hi, Yachi-san,” he croaked, wincing at the salt-worn scrape of his throat. “What…what happened?” He slowly pushed himself into a seated position, and his brows shot up his forehead when his vision cleared: all of his things, his pack and katana and bow and arrows, were sprawled across the sand next to him. They were all dark and swollen with water, but they were there, not lost in the depths of the sea. “How…how did you save me and my stuff?”

“I…I didn’t,” Yachi admitted. Her cheeks were turning a little pink, though Shoyo didn’t think it was from embarrassment. “I mean, not by myself. I got you to the beach, and, um…”

“I kept an eye on you while she got your things.”

Shoyo’s head hurt from how quickly it whipped around to find the owner of that low, rasping voice. He understood Yachi’s light flush once he found the new speaker.

There was a man sitting on a washed up log. He was disarmingly handsome, despite his rough-woven yukata. The loose fit of his robes couldn’t hide his chiseled physique, all packed into smooth, tanned skin, and at his waist hung a sword with only a dark teal hilt visible. He had messy black hair that couldn’t have been more different from Tobio’s silken strands, and pretty hazel eyes that glinted golden over his roguish grin. Shoyo could glimpse scars of various sizes and ages sprinkled over what skin was visible, but his eyes were particularly drawn to a harsh line directly over his heart. It looked raw, freshly-healed, though it didn’t seem to impede the man’s movement at all.

“My eyes are up here.”

Shoyo’s cheeks caught on fire as his eyes instinctively obeyed the lighthearted scolding. “I-I’m sorry, um…savior-san?”

The man raised an eyebrow while Shoyo heard a soft, stifled giggle to his side. “Hajime,” the man answered Shoyo’s question. “My name is Hajime.”

Hajime. A pretty name for a handsome man. The musing sounded like something Miwa would say with a wink, and the thought made a small smile tug at Shoyo’s lips as he asked, “What about your family name?”

“I don’t have much use for a family name these days,” Hajime sighed. “Hajime’s just fine for me.”

“Okay…then thank you, Hajime-san!” Shoyo could only manage a bow from where he sat—he really didn’t trust his legs to bear any weight just yet. “How did you find us out here?”

“You two don’t really have discreet hair,” Hajime chuckled, not unkindly. “Even in the storm, it was easy enough to spot you two in the waves. I just had to meet you at the beach.”

Shoyo nodded, his eyes wandering from Hajime to take in the rest of the beach. Unlike the open beach where he’d met Yachi and Tanaka, they had washed up in what looked like an inlet. Cliffs rose around the water, leaving only a small opening for the waves to crash through. The water was a picturesque blue-green, bearing no sign of the storm that had swept them there. “Where are we?” he asked Yachi.

A smile curved her lips, though it was full of an unnerving mix of joy and fear. “This is Oikawa’s island,” she murmured, just for herself and him. “We did it, Hinata. You made it.”

You made it. The words rang sweetly through his mind as he stared in mute disbelief at Yachi, before he flung his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, Yachi-san,” he gasped at her ear. “You saved my life. You got me here. Thank you!”

“You got yourself here,” she insisted. She held him snugly, her hands rubbing at his back again. “I just helped you a little. You chose to come here, you made this possible.”

His eyes stung as he pulled away and smiled at her. “Still…thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Just rescue Tobio. That’ll be repayment enough.” She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. “I can’t take you any further. I have to stay by the ocean. But…ah, here!” She plucked a pretty pink shell from the sand and pressed it into his hand. “If you want to see me again, just crush this at any beach! I’ll find my way to you!”

Shoyo pressed his lips thin against yet another apology, then pressed them to the back of Yachi’s hand before she pulled away. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a little more, but her smile was all genuine kindness, with none of the flustered shyness that had colored her gaze at Hajime. “Good luck, Hinata,” she murmured. With one last squeeze of his hand, she slid away and pushed herself into the ocean. Shoyo watched as her glittering orange tail disappeared under the waves, and, just as he started to turn away, Yachi’s head popped back up and she waved with a bright smile that he could see from the shore.

The next time she dove under was the last time he saw her.

Shoyo stared at the waves for an extra beat, making sure she was really gone, before he sighed, slowly pushed himself to his feet, and turned to Hajime. The other man still watched him with a small smile, but it was touched with a sympathy that strengthened when their eyes met. “Is she a close friend of yours?”

“Um…sort of.” What on earth should he call a siren he’d known for less than a week and who saved his life more than once in that time? “We only met a few days ago, but…I think she’s my friend now.”

“You should hope so, after she helped you pull a stunt like that,” Hajime scoffed. “Get a bigger boat and some more hands next time you try to sail through a storm like that. A samurai like you shouldn’t get killed because of a stupid decision.”

“That’s how most of us get killed.”

Hajime’s brows shot up his forehead, before he threw his head back in the first real laugh Shoyo was hearing from him. “Fair enough,” he laughed as he pushed himself to his feet. “Well, then, congrats on surviving the storm. Not many people can say that. You might even be the first.” His words were matter-of-fact, and he either didn’t notice or disregarded the way the blood rushed out of Shoyo’s face. “What I’d like to know is, why?”

“Why what?”

“Why come here? I think I heard your friend mention Oikawa. Does he have anything to do with this suicide mission?”

The blood that had just drained from Shoyo’s face went rushing back up with his anger. “It’s not a suicide mission!!” he argued. “It’s a rescue mission! He…he has someone I care about, and I’m going to get him back.”

Hajime’s brows went low over his hazel eyes, and for a moment, Shoyo thought he was the target of that ire. Then Hajime growled, “That sounds about right. No one holds a grudge like Oikawa. I’m sorry this person you care about is on the receiving end of that.”

“Oh,” Shoyo said a bit dumbly, surprised to get an empathetic apology instead of a scolding for trespassing. “I mean, thank you! Um…do you know Oikawa?”

“Knew,” Hajime corrected with a grin that spoke of a joke Shoyo wasn’t privy to, “and yeah, in a sense.” He continued speaking before Shoyo could ask any more questions. “So! I’m guessing you’re headed for his palace from here?” Shoyo nodded, and earned a thoughtful hum in response. “That won’t be easy.”

“It won’t be any easier than going to the end of the sun? And getting through the storm?”

“Well…it’ll be a different sort of difficult,” Hajime amended. “Oikawa really doesn’t like unannounced visitors. He’s got all sorts of creatures scattered around this island. Even if you do make it to his palace, he’s got it hidden in a shroud that you won’t be able to properly cross without a talisman.”

Shit. Shoyo had been so focused on getting through the storm and overcoming one of his worst fears, he hadn’t let himself think too much about what would await him on the other side of the sea. “I…I still want to go,” he declared after a beat. “I can at least get close, and then maybe…I dunno, maybe someone with a talisman will come along and let me come with them!”

Even as he spoke the words, he could feel how foolishly optimistic they were, and Hajime’s brow creased in agreement. But, in a show of sympathy, he didn’t try to argue against him. He just nodded and said, “Alright. Then let’s get you there.”

“Okay! …Wait, you’re coming with me?”

“Did you not hear the part about the creatures?” Hajime snorted. “You’ll never make it by yourself. I know this island and its monsters well, I can get you there mostly unscathed.”

“Mostly?”

“Are you good to stand? There’s a spot we’ll want to reach before sundown if we want to set up camp.” Before Shoyo could answer, Hajime was standing over him and holding out a hand. It was calloused beneath Shoyo’s, though strangely, there were just as many callouses on the tips of his fingers as there were on his palm. They almost reminded Shoyo of the callouses Tobio developed after trekking up the mountains as a wolf. A shudder ran up his spine at the familiar feeling.

“Thanks,” Shoyo said with his first attempt at his usual smile since washing up on that beach. He took a single step towards his things…and instantly found himself keeling over. If it weren’t for Hajime’s quick arms, he would’ve sprawled face first into the sand. “Holy shit,” he wheezed, blinking furiously to clear his eyes of the encroaching blackness.

“Spirits, that’s right. You need water,” Hajime grumbled, sounding more annoyed at himself than Shoyo. “Dunno how I didn’t think of that. Here, lean on me.” He slung Shoyo’s arm around his broad shoulders and guided him towards the edge of the trees, making sure to go at a pace that Shoyo could keep up with and bending enough for Shoyo to not strain to keep his arm up. Once they reached the shade, Hajime eased him to the ground and had him lean against a tree. “Do you have any water in your things?”

“Um…there might be some in my pack. I might’ve already drunk it all.”

“Alright, wait here.”

Shoyo didn’t know what to make of Hajime’s kindness. It’d be one thing for him to just help Shoyo get back on his feet after nearly drowning, but for him to agree to take him all the way to Oikawa’s palace, without even any guarantee of the journey paying off in any way…it didn’t make sense. For the first time, in all of these serendipitous encounters, Shoyo wondered if there was some catch he wasn’t seeing, some sort of favor that Hajime was planning on cashing in when Shoyo was least expecting. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, separate from the acrid bile still on his tongue.

What choice did he have, though? Whatever Hajime’s motivation was, he was Shoyo’s best chance at making it through this island alive. Anything he asked would be worth seeing Tobio again. It would have to be.

By the time he settled on his resolution, Hajime was heading back towards him, effortlessly carrying his pack, his katana, and Tobio’s bow and arrows. “They’re still pretty wet,” he said once he reached Shoyo and began carefully setting everything down, “but the damage shouldn’t be anything some time by a fire can’t fix. You said your water’s in here?” He handed the pack to Shoyo.

“Yeah! Thank you for getting all this!”

“No problem. You’re not really in any state to carry everything by yourself.” He fell quiet as Shoyo dug out his waterskin and chugged what was left in it, letting a silence fall between them that was only broken by the waves breaking on the beach.

Shoyo eventually lowered the waterskin with an awkward clearing of his throat. “Um…can I ask you something?”

A soft laugh escaped Hajime, though it wasn’t mocking at all. “Sure. Seems fair, after all the questions I asked you.”

“Why are you helping me so much? If the journey’s going to be as dangerous as you say, then…what do you get out of this?”

That secretive smile returned, but this time, there was a hint of sadness staining both the curve of his lips and his eyes. “Oikawa…he’s not a bad person. Not at all. But he is…vindictive. Holds a grudge like no one else I knew. Normally I would mind my business, but this? Cursing someone for an honest mistake and not even letting them go once they see the curse through? It’s too much. It isn’t fair. And you…” Those hazel eyes were unflinching on Shoyo. “You’re the best chance he’s got at getting some sense knocked into him.”

“I don’t…I don’t want to knock any sense in him,” Shoyo weakly protested. “I just want to get Tobio back.”

Hajime’s brows tilted up just a bit at the sound of Tobio’s name for the first time, but he looked otherwise unaffected. “Right. It’s not fair to ask you to inspire any change in him. But if that happens in the process of getting your, um…Tobio back, then maybe Oikawa won’t feel as left in the lurch once you two leave.”

“If he lets us leave,” Shoyo murmured. The words were acidic on his tongue. It was the first time he’d voiced the mere possibility of this endeavor feeling futile. The risk was far more real now that he was so close to his destination.

“Hey.” Shoyo’s eyes jerked from his waterskin to Hajime’s. He hadn’t even realized his eyes had drifted down. “He will. Don’t doubt that.”

How could he possibly know that? His conviction was ridiculous. But it was also impossible to push against, so Shoyo settled for a nod. “Good,” Hajime sighed. “Well…I don’t think we’re going to get very far before you eat something and get some rest. Let’s set up camp here and get started first thing tomorrow. Sound good?”

Shoyo nodded again. At the mention of sleep, he was suddenly and newly aware of the sheer exhaustion weighing at his body. Hajime thankfully didn’t seem to expect him to prepare the campsite or any food. In fact, he seemed perfectly willing and able to take care of everything that night, letting Shoyo curl up beneath his hanten and wolf pelt. He didn’t join Shoyo in the hasty dinner, turning down his repeated invitations to the food. “I’m not hungry,” he insisted. He was relaxed where he was seated across the fire from Shoyo, but his eyes were a knife’s point on the wolf pelt. “That’s a nice pelt. Did you hunt the wolf yourself?”

Ice flooded Shoyo’s veins at the memory, freezing solid in his throat and stomach. “Um…yeah,” he whispered, his words nearly silenced by his makeshift covers. “I was attacked a week or so ago. I didn’t…want to kill him. I didn’t have a choice, he would’ve broken my arm and torn out my throat if I hadn’t killed him. Leaving his body to rot felt worse than carving and using parts of it, so…”

“‘Him,’ huh?” Hajime hummed. “Well, I’m glad you lived to tell the tale. Killing a wolf…that’s no easy feat, especially if you were already being attacked.” He offered a smile, quiet but potent in its approval. “You really are a resilient one, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a samurai if I wasn’t.”

Hajime coughed out a laugh. “Well, that’s good. You’re going to need more of that on this island.” The glow of the coals finally died down enough to hide his face from Shoyo. “Get some sleep, Hinata. I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“Okay.” As if by command, Shoyo’s eyes grew heavier and heavier, but not before he mumbled, “Thank you, Hajime-san, f’r…ev’rything…”

☾

For all of Atsumu's ominous warnings, Haru was one of the easier horses Shoyo had handled. A plum with her meal at the start of the day was all she needed to obey Shoyo's directions.

Not that he needed to give her many directions. Shoyo wasn’t sure if any animal, including a horse, could smell the sea from so far away, but she was almost eager to follow the path, letting out a huff every now and again as if to clear her nose.

“You alright there, girl?” Shoyo laughed after a particularly loud snort. He only got a quiet grumble in response.

He relaxed in the saddle, content trusting her to keep them headed in the right direction. He could keep himself occupied with keeping track of their progress on the shoddy hand-drawn map Atsumu passed to him, until the ground beneath Haru’s hooves began to shift from packed dirt to unsteady rocks.

Haru let out a soft whinny of protest at the increasing lack of solid ground, until she pulled up short at the very edge of the beach. “Yeah…me, too, girl,” Shoyo sighed, nudging her back into a reluctant walk onto the sand.

The beach was pretty. Even with panic slithering around the edges of his mind, Shoyo had to admit that. The stretch of sand was clean and luminous, turning from white to gold beneath the setting sun. In one direction, a few fisherman’s huts slouched against the cliff sides that loomed over the water, and in the other, the forest’s line of trees continued, with a few sections looking sparse around paths.

And there, floating on the water and tethered to docks by the huts, were a number of boats, ranging from small rowboats to ships that would take half a crew to sail. Haru passed boat after boat, until she suddenly stopped.

The sailboat she'd stopped in front of was small but lovely, even with its faded varnish and chipped lettering. Shoyo could barely make out what it said, and only managed once he slid off the horse and crouched by the boat. "Inarizaki," he murmured. "Kinda on the nose."

The horse let out a huff at that, one that Shoyo decided was an agreement. He straightened to unload his pack and weapons from her saddle, a task easily done in a matter of seconds. "Oh…I guess this is it," he murmured.

As though she could understand him, Haru gave a soft nicker and nudged her muzzle against his shoulder. "I know, I know," he laughed, patting her nose. "I've got one last treat for you."

He let Haru eat his last plum in a series of messy bites. She licked at his juice-sticky hands before letting him pet her velvety nose one more time. "Thanks for everything, girl," he whispered, resting his forehead between her eyes. "Atsumu-san was wrong; you've been wonderful." She nudged her nose at his throat, her small snort tickling his skin. With a sigh, he pulled away and said, "Go on, go back home."

Neither of them moved for a moment, forcing Shoyo to stare into her big, dark eyes that slowly blinked at him. "Go. Atsumu-san's waiting for you."

She still didn't move. She just stood there, watching him, until he turned away from her and pretended to be busy with putting his things into the boat. Only then did he finally hear her let out one last whinny and slowly walk away, steps muffled in the white sand.

And so Shoyo was alone once more, staring solitary into the maw of his biggest fear.

He could do this. He could do this. He had to do this.

His hands shook against the lip of the boat. The cold, salty splash of the sea caught on his father’s bracelet, slipping between the metal and his skin to bite into him like a brand. His mouth fell open to gasp, but no air would come out. No air would come in. He couldn’t breathe.

His vision swam as he stumbled away from the boat. He could only take a few steps before his heel caught on a stray rock, sending him sprawling against the sand with a force that pushed out what little air was left in his lungs.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Panic and fear stuffed his lungs with cotton, making his chest heavy and overfull. It worsened when his father’s bracelet ground the salt into his skin, forcing him to remember the root of his panic.

“I can’t survive grieving both of you.”

“I’m not worth it, Sho. Go live your life again. Soon this’ll all just be a distant memory.”

“You always could do whatever you put your mind to, kiddo.”

Not this, Dad, he thought in his delirium, I can’t do this. I can’t, Tobio, I’m sorry, I love you, I can’t—

“Ah…exc…me?”

The words barely broke through the rush of blood in his ears, and they were quickly crowded out by the voices in his head. His fingers sank into the sand, offering none of the anchor he’d been hoping for. The smooth parting of grains only made his breathing choppier, until his breaths sounded more like sobs.

“Hey…can…help…”

“I can’t,” he gasped, “I can’t, I can’t—”

“…no…Tana…an! Help!"

He was adrift, lost, free-floating on the swells of distress. Then, suddenly, there was a warmth around his fingers, digging them out of the sand and holding him in a gentle, firm grip. “Breathe,” he heard through the slowly abating rush of blood in his ears. “You’re okay, just breathe.”

A small, soft thumb was drawing wide arcs across the back of his hand, giving him a guide to slow his breaths. It worked—his breaths stayed shaky, but they smoothed into a regular rhythm, until he could finally fill his lungs with air. “There you go,” that quiet voice said, “that’s better.”

The soft reassurance and the sound of another boat coming to shore anchored him, steadying him enough to pry his eyes open and look at his savior.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t a young blonde woman. She watched him with wide, nervous brown eyes, though her clear anxiety didn’t make her pull her small hand away from his. Everything about her was small: her hands, her figure, even her tail—

Wait.

If he hadn’t just come down from a panic attack, what he was seeing might’ve sent him into one. As it was, he could only stare a little dumbly at the space where her legs should’ve been, an where a long, sleek, orange fishtail was instead. It glittered in the sun, reminding him of the beautiful koi fish in the palace ponds. “You’re…you’re a mermaid.”

She opened her mouth, but an entirely different voice laughed, "Not a mermaid! She's technically a siren."

Her cheeks turned a light pink and she cringed just a bit, even though she only added, “I'm not very good at the whole, um…sirening thing.”

Sand shifted beneath Shoyo's head as he turned to look at the new arrival. It was a young man, around Shoyo's age if not a little older, with a clean-shaven head, dark eyes, and expressive brows. He was smiling now, but something about the sharp lines of his features told Shoyo that he wasn't someone he'd want to upset. “Hey, man! You feeling okay? That was a rough tumble!”

“U-um…yeah,” was all Shoyo could muster as he pushed himself upright. The siren’s fingers slid away from his, and he missed their anchoring warmth. But she and the man stuck around, watching him carefully, and that was enough to hold his panic at bay.

“Haven’t seen you around these parts,” the man mused. With Shoyo confirmed to be out of his panic, the stranger wandered to the boat and peered at his things. “Don’t really get many—woah.”

The siren shifted herself to the boat and peeked over the edge, only to fall back with a squeak. “What?” Shoyo asked, panic prickling at his throat again. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you a samurai?”

“Oh.” Right. His katana was in there. “Um…yes.” He didn’t trust himself to be able to stand just yet, but he could at least shift onto his knees and give a small bow. “I’m Shoyo Hinata, samurai of the Kageyama clan.”

“Oh, so you’re not from around here,” the man hummed idly. He stared into the boat for another breath, before sucking in a gasp so loud, both Shoyo and the siren jolted. “Wait, it’s you!”

“M-me?” Shoyo stammered, staring at the finger the man pointed at him.

“You’re that samurai Kita-san told Kiyoko about! Bright hair, old robes, katana and bow, going on a big quest?”

“O-oh…yeah, that’s me! You know Kita-san?”

“Not well, but my wife does!” The man gave a small bow, and the siren quickly followed his lead. “I’m Ryuunosuke Tanaka, and this is Hitoka Yachi!”

“Nice to meet you!” Yachi chirped with a sweet, less nervous smile.

Tanaka waited for Shoyo to offer his own smile before remarking, “That’s Atsumu-san’s boat, right? How’d you get him to owe you a favor?”

“It’s…kind of a long story.”

“Well, we’ll have lots of time for a story!”

It was Shoyo’s turn to furrow his brows. “What? Why?”

“Sorry for assuming anything, but you don’t seem like someone who knows his way around a boat.” Shoyo’s cheeks burned, but he couldn’t argue against the truth. Tanaka noticed and kept talking with a wide grin. “Sailing in these waters in that boat would be difficult for a newbie on the best of days. There’s no way you can do it after a breakdown like that. Give yourself the night to rest up and sail out tomorrow.”

“But…I have to go!” There was no biting back the whine in Shoyo’s words, no matter how steady he tried to keep his voice. “Tobio’s waiting for me, and…and I don’t even have a place to stay until tomorrow!”

The lighthearted glint in the man’s eye fell away, replaced by a solemnity that better suited someone older than him. “He would rather wait a little longer instead of forever. You can come to my place, stay the night, and you can go tomorrow morning if you’re fully recovered. And hey, I could use another set of hands around the house!” He grinned at Shoyo’s confused frown. “I have to clean up the fish that we kept from today’s catch, and you can help with that! And you’ll get to meet my wife! She’ll help keep the house safe, and she’ll look beautiful while doing it.”

A dreamy adoration washed over the man’s face, only to snap away when Shoyo spoke. “That…that’s really kind, Tanaka-san. Thank you!”

“Sure thing!”

Yachi had been oddly quiet as they negotiated Shoyo’s stay with the Tanakas, but then she asked, “Where do you need to sail to? Maybe I can help tomorrow!”

“Oh, um…” He crawled to the boat and handed her the haphazard map Atsumu had drawn for him. “There’s an island straight across from this beach that I need to reach. But it’s magically hidden, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find it.”

Yachi and Tanaka peered at the map, and in an instant, his tentative hope drained out of him at the sight of her paling face and his wide eyes. “That’s…that’s Oikawa-sama’s island,” she squeaked.

“Ah…yeah. You know of him?”

She nodded slowly. “All of the creatures here know of him. He used to be friendly to all of us, even let us visit his palace or brought us little gifts and treats. But a few years ago he just…stopped visiting, and a storm came over the shores of the island. It’s been there ever since.”

The storm. Right. Shoyo swallowed down the bile that had risen to his throat. “And you can’t…you can’t swim through the storm?”

“I could,” Yachi admitted, “but, well…he clearly wants to be left alone. So none of us have really tried.”

She handed the map back, while Tanaka pinned Shoyo under a strangely thoughtful gaze. “You said ‘Tobio’ earlier. Oikawa’s not the person waiting for you, right?”

“Not…not really. He took someone important to me,” he murmured as he tucked the map away, “and I’m going to get him back.”

Both Yachi and Tanaka’s eyes widened again, but this time, they were wide with anticipation. “Oh! Why is Tobio important to you?” Tanaka asked. “Is he a friend? A family member? A lover?”

Shoyo’s cheeks burned. “A lover!” Yachi gasped. “Oh, you’re rescuing the man you love! That’s so romantic!”

“It’ll only be romantic if I can actually rescue him.”

“Don’t say that!” It was the first time she opposed him on something, and he was pleasantly startled by the new determination in her warm eyes. “Not everyone would try to do something like this! The fact that you’re attempting it at all is already romantic!”

“Oh…then, thank you!

She smiled again, a bright smile that warmed him like a fire pit, chasing away the dark tendrils that had remained from his panic. “Of course!”

“Hold on…are you planning on sailing through that storm?” Tanaka asked.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted shakily, “but I have to. For him.”

He stared out at the distant horizon, where a storm awaited him. But the feeling of a small hand covering his own brought his attention back to Yachi, who was watching him with a mixture of determination and fear. “I can help you,” she said with the slightest waver to her voice.

“Really?!”

She nodded. With every breath, her fear was replaced with more determination. “Yes. I can lead you towards the island, and I’ll do what I can to help you navigate the storm.”

“I…wow, that’s…thank you,” Shoyo breathed. Gratitude made his breath catch in his throat, but this time, it was caught on a sweet pressure. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

Yachi shook her head with a softer, kinder smile. “You don’t have to repay me. Just go get your happy ending.”

“But first!” Tanaka declared, clapping his hand on Shoyo’s back and earning himself a startled “oof!” “You gotta rest up! Yachchan, can you meet him here just after sunrise? It should be low tide then.”

“Sure!” Yachi slid into the shallow water before turning and offering one more smile. “Have a good night, Hinata! See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Yachi-san!”

“Later, Yacchan!”

With a wave, Yachi turned and dove under the waves, disappearing with a flash of sunlight reflecting from her brilliant tail. “She’s a sweet girl,” Tanaka hummed with a fond grin. “Kiyoko would trust her with anything. You’ll be in good hands tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes! And, um…thank you for welcoming me to your home!”

“Sure thing! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t usually go around inviting random people home, but Kiyoko and I trust Kita-san’s opinion, and if he thinks you’re worth helping, then that’s good enough for me! Besides, I have a good feeling about you. A better feeling than most samurai give me.”

“Ah.” Gratitude, melancholy, and embarrassment were a strange set of emotions to feel, but Shoyo could feel them tilting the line of his lips. “I…I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

Pure, kind friendliness warmed Tanaka’s grin. “Hey, that just means I’m right about my hunch. C’mon, follow me. We’re just up this way.”

☾

Shoyo had noticed the number of paths leading away from the beach, but he was still surprised when Tanaka led the way up one of them, instead of towards one of the shacks built into the cliff side.

“My wife prefers to be deeper in the forest than near the coast,” he explained when Shoyo voiced his curiosity. “The trek can be tiring after a long day on the water, but her comfort matters more to me than work. Besides, it’s nice, having some distance between the beach and home.”

“It sounds like you love her a lot,” Shoyo murmured with a bittersweet taste on his tongue.

“Of course I do!” Tanaka laughed brightly. “She’s a goddess! Sometimes I still can’t believe she chose to marry me, but I do what I can to make sure that choice is still worth it. And she loves me, too. Living a little further from the beach is nothing compared to what she’s done for me…for us.” He smiled over his shoulder at Shoyo. “I know what it’s like, loving someone so much that you’d go to the ends of the world for them.”

He had no idea how true that really was.

Shoyo was eager to meet the woman who was loved so much and even called a “goddess” by her husband. But when they finally arrived at their home, the squat house was empty. “She’ll be home later! I should start working on dinner, have that ready when she gets back.” Tanaka muttered the last sentence more to himself than Shoyo, hurrying into what Shoyo assumed was the kitchen, taking the fish he’d kept for himself with him. “Make yourself at home!” he called back. “Want anything to drink?”

“Some water, please!”

“Coming right up!”

The water did not, in fact, come right up. A few minutes of listening to some clanging in the kitchen pushed Shoyo to his feet. “Tanaka-san? Can I help with anything?”

“Oh shit, sorry man,” Tanaka gasped. “Got a little too focused. Um…” He looked down at his hands, wet and covered in scales. “Do you mind helping yourself?”

“Not at all,” Shoyo laughed. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

“Mm…have you cleaned fish before?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh, sweet, can you do that while I get started on dinner? I’ll be ready to cook the fish once you’re done cleaning it!”

“Sure!”

Shoyo genuinely wanted to help—it was the least he could do in exchange for being so generously welcomed to Tanaka’s home—but as they worked together and easily chatted with each other, he realized how much he’d missed this, the domestic comfort of chatting while doing chores together. He’d gotten used to being alone while Tobio was gathering the yamakumo, and after his visit home, he’d only gotten a month of normalcy before…before…

“Hinata?”

Shoyo blinked out of his thoughts and looked up at Tanaka, horrified to realize he was blurry through tears. “Ah, sorry,” he mumbled, pressing his eyes to his dry sleeve.

“Nothing to apologize for, man!” Tanaka’s reassuring smile wilted a touch into concern. “Can I know what’s going on? Is it…that Tobio you’re looking for?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Oh. Listen, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but why does Oikawa have him? What happened?”

Shoyo was getting better at explaining everything with each person he told, keeping things succinct and honest without revealing that Tobio was prince of a domain nor how they’d met each other as children. He just said what was necessary to understand the curse and the quest, including his mistake.

“Shit…,” Tanaka sighed, eyes wide on Shoyo’s. “How long have you been traveling now?”

“A couple months, maybe?” Shoyo guessed.

“By yourself?”

“I’ve met a few people, but yeah, I’m traveling by myself.”

His cheeks prickled with warmth when Tanaka let out a low whistle. “You really are going to the ends of the earth for him, huh?”

“I…I guess.”

Silence fell, only breaking when the rice began boiling. “This is probably a weird way to look at things,” Tanaka said after he blew out the fire beneath the rice, “but in a way, you two are lucky. Not everyone meets someone they love enough to do something like this for, and not everyone is loved enough for that. He must be an amazing dude, for this to be worth it.”

“He is!” Shoyo immediately declared. “I’ve courted people before. I know what just…‘liking’ someone feels like. This isn’t that. This is…Tobio, he…he’s annoying and grumpy and stubborn, spirits, he’s stubborn, and he took forever to say anything without sounding like I was pulling out his teeth and words.” His eyes stung and his throat ached again, but he didn’t fight the feelings this time. “He’s not charming at all. But he’s honest, and reliable, and strong, he’s had to be so damn strong, and he did it without losing himself. And he’s so caring. He made me feel so safe and comfortable. He makes me feel invincible.” He gave a watery smile to Tanaka, who listened with a small curve to his own lips. “He’s worth it. All of it. Even if…if he doesn’t want anything to do with me, it would still be worth it, because he’ll have his life back. He deserves that, even if…if he doesn’t want me to be a part of it.”

The simple idea of Tobio turning him away twisted Shoyo’s stomach into a nauseating knot, but he meant what he said. It was his fault that Tobio was captured. It was up to him to fix that.

“You’re a special kid, Hinata.” Warmth rose to Shoyo’s cheeks again at the quiet words. “He’s lucky to be so loved by someone like you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, before letting his smile take a teasing tilt. “‘Kid’? I thought I wasn’t that much younger than you!”

“How old are you?”

“22!” he said stoutly. “How old are you?”

“Ah, man…,” Tanaka sighed. “…23.”

“A year?!” Shoyo laughed. “You’re only a year older than me?!”

“Oh, shut up! You’re short, so you feel way younger.”

“I’m not that short! And I’m a samurai, I’m super strong!”

“Good! It sounds like you’ll need that.”

Shoyo sobered at the genuine kindness shining from Tanaka’s dark eyes. His simple, honest friendliness was a refreshing change after the Miyas’ wiliness.

Before he could say anything, a new voice called out, “I’m home!” The voice was airy with a slight note of lyricism, like a breeze rustling the leaves of the forest.

Tanaka’s face brightened with all the luminous joy of a sunrise. “Welcome back!”

“Ryuu, why are there extra shoes in the— oh.”

There, at the door to the kitchen, stood the most beautiful woman Shoyo had ever seen. She was in the middle of combing her fingers through her undone braid, letting long, smooth black hair flow over her shoulders like curtains of the night sky. Her eyes were blue—not the dark, infinite blue of the Kageyamas, but a lighter hue, almost crystalline, sharpening her gaze a touch as she looked at Shoyo. She was dressed in simple, plain robes, but they couldn’t take away from her ethereal beauty.

There was something else to her, something in her aura or posture, that told Shoyo that “goddess” wasn’t just a sweet pet name from a loving husband. There was an objective truth to the word, an added weight that dragged Shoyo out of his chair and to the floor, where he knelt in a worshipful bow. “Yami-no-kami-sama,” he whispered into the packed earth, “please pardon my intrusion.”

“Oh, dear. Please stand, young man. You have nothing to be pardoned for.” Shoyo looked up in time to see the goddess shoot a frown at Tanaka. “You, though…I didn’t know we were having a guest. And you didn’t tell the poor thing who I am?”

“Aw, honey, I’m sorry!” Tanaka exclaimed, hands raised in a gesture of innocence. “I didn’t know how to let you know, but he needed a place to stay for the night! And I did tell him! I said you’re a goddess!”

The goddess managed to hold on to her frown for all of two seconds before it was chased off by a fond exasperation. “Love…that sounds like an endearment coming from you,” she sighed, stepping into the kitchen to press a kiss to his cheek. “We’ve talked about that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t sound not in love when I talk about my wife,” Tanaka scoffed with an adoring smile.

“Flatterer.” She turned back to Shoyo and sighed again when she saw him still on his knees. “Please, stand,” she repeated, moving towards him and holding a hand out. “When I’m at home, I let go of all the obligations of being yami-no-kami. I’m Kiyoko Tanaka.”

Shoyo stammered as he took her hand and shakily rose to his feet. “Please pardon me, Kiyoko-sama! I’m—”

“Kiyoko-san,” she corrected with a kind smile. “I’ve heard of you, Shoyo Hinata.”

“Oh, yeah! From Kita-san?”

Her brows raised just a bit as a soft laugh escaped her. “That’s right. I suppose Ryuu told you?”

“Yep!” Tanaka declared. “And he told me his big quest was to rescue his lover. You didn’t say anything about that!”

“Well, now you know, don’t you?” Her playful grin gentled when she looked back at Shoyo. “To what do we owe the honor, Hinata-kun? How can we help you?”

“Nothing!” he said. “You’ve already done more than enough, letting me stay overnight. Yachi-san will help me tomorrow, so I’ll be okay when I start sailing.”

“Oh, you’ve met Hitoka-chan!” Kiyoko brightened at the mention of the siren. “That’s perfect, I was going to suggest getting her help. She’s as reliable as she is kind. You’ll be in good hands.”

“Yes! I’m…I’m very grateful! To her and to both of you!” He instinctively dipped into another bow, and straightened to see mild exasperation on her beautiful features.

“Hey, Hinata,” Tanaka suddenly piped up, “how’re those fish coming?”

“Oh, they’re all set!”

“Perfect!” He took the cleaned filets and slid them onto a pan that already sizzled with spices. “Thanks for your help! If you don’t mind, could you get the table out in the main room?”

“Sure!” Shoyo finally served himself some water and slipped out of the kitchen. The sound of a quick kiss and hushed conversation followed him out, and longing panged dully in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to sit out on the engawa with the wolf’s head in his lap, or greet the shadow with a slow kiss and talk about their days in those same low voices.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and focused on setting up the table…until he was done and left sipping his water and staring at the whorls in the table’s worn wood surface.

What was Tobio doing? Was he safe? Healthy? Surely Oikawa wouldn’t actively harm him, not when he’d taken care to make sure Tobio would have a safe place to live while cursed. But what kind of punishment was he being put through? What would add to the misery of being torn away from someone he loves?

No. No, Shoyo couldn’t dwell on that. All that mattered was that Tobio would be able to follow him out of the palace once he arrived.

“Here we are!” Tanaka announced before Shoyo had to fight his own mind for long. “Dinner’s all set!”

Shoyo pushed himself up to help set the table, but Kiyoko appeared behind her husband with more dishes and a smiling shake of her head. “It’s alright, Hinata, this is everything.”

“Oh, okay.” Shoyo felt a little sheepish as he sank back down. “Thank you for dinner, Tanaka-san, Kiyoko-sama—I mean, Kiyoko-san!”

“See, honey?” Tanaka laughed while he passed around the dishes. “I’m not the only one still dazzled by you!”

“But you are the only one who married me and sees me everyday,” Kiyoko sighed with a smile. “At least Hinata has an excuse.”

“Um…can I ask something?” Shoyo asked hesitantly.

The couple both looked surprised, but Kiyoko was quick to respond, “Of course.”

“How did you get married? A goddess and a human?”

Oddly enough, they looked less surprised by his question. Kiyoko gazed at Tanaka with a quiet smile for a moment, before answering, “I’m a goddess, yes. But Ryuu was…the first time I felt human. He was intimidated by me at first, but when he loves, he loves stubbornly. He was stubborn about getting to know me, and letting me get to know him. But he wasn’t stubborn about making me fall in love with him. He just made sure I knew how much he cared for me, respected me, and…liked me. He truly likes who I am, and that’s where his love comes from. If I were a mortal woman, I have no doubt he would treat me the same way.”

Tanaka was silent as she spoke, gazing at her with adoration shining from his eyes, and waiting until she was done to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. Silence fell over the table for a moment as Kiyoko smiled in thanks, before she murmured, “Ryuu?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to share your side?”

“Oh! Oh, right. Sorry.” Tanaka straightened with rosy cheeks and a sheepish smile. “There’s…not much I can add to that, honestly. We met when she found me trying to clean out a wound. She didn’t say much, just found the proper plants for me to put on the wound. But I could tell she was a goddess. How could I not? I started leaving offerings for her, and she would appear to accept them, and by the third time, she asked me why I was leaving them. She’s a goddess of the harvest in these parts, so folks like Kita-san are who usually worship her, and, well…you saw our yard. I’m not exactly a farmer. So I told her the truth, that I wanted to get to know her. She…was reluctant at first, but she agreed, and…here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kiyoko echoed with that small smile. “I still carry out my duties, and Ryuu still does his work. But it’s nice, having a place and a person to come home to. It could get a bit lonely, being the sole guardian of these mountains. I think Ryuu could see that in some way, and that’s why he insisted on us knowing each other.”

“I was also just…a starry-eyed, lovesick dummy,” Tanaka laughed. “Still am, honestly.”

Shoyo was happy to eat and listen with a smile that grew and grew from their story and the clear love between them. His smile faltered when Kiyoko looked at him and murmured, “Ryuu told me your story, the parts that Kita didn’t include. I’m sorry. It’s awful that a mistake could rob you of something so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Shoyo sighed. “But it was my fault. I have to go find him and fix it. And…I love him. And I miss him. A lot.” He sucked in a shuddering breath before continuing, “I never thought I could love someone outside of my family this much. It’s…kinda scary, especially when I don’t know when I’ll see him again.” He roughly brushed away his tears.

“Hey,” Tanaka said, his brows creased with a determined set, “you said it yourself. When you’ll see him again, not if. You’ll find him, man. Look how close you already are! Right, Kiyo?”

Kiyoko didn’t look so sure, much to Shoyo’s dismay. “I have no doubt that you’ll reach Oikawa’s palace and find your lover. But I’ve…met Oikawa a few times. I think you should be prepared for him to create a few more obstacles to your happy ending.”

“I am,” Shoyo admitted. “I dunno what to expect, but I know he’s not going to just…let us walk away that easily. I don’t care. Tobio’s worth it.”

“Then there you go,” Kiyoko said with a smile. “Trust in yourself, Hinata. And in your Tobio.”

Shoyo returned her smile with a hesitant one of his own. “I will. I do.”

☾

They were on the engawa, Shoyo sitting with his feet dangling off the edge and Tobio laying with his head in Shoyo’s lap. It was both familiar and strange: they had only ever sat like this during the day, when Tobio was in wolf form. He was very human in the dream, and he was bathed in silvery moonlight.

The dreams still began in the woods, but Shoyo only had to sprint towards the house to reunite with the Tobio of his dreams. Then he could steal some moments with him, just enough to chase his waking loneliness away.

But the more time that passed, the murkier Tobio’s features became, as if Shoyo’s mind couldn’t quite fill in all the details of his human face, especially in the moonlight. The only clear features were his eyes, but Shoyo didn’t mind. They were still perfectly detailed beneath his fingertips.

“I’m glad,” Tobio murmured, eyes heavy and drowsy as Shoyo ran fingers through his hair, “that you keep meeting good people. You’re not so alone anymore.”

“Yeah…I’m lucky.”

“…But?”

Shoyo smiled despite the weight in his chest. Of course Tobio would notice the reluctance in his words. “But they’re not you. I miss you so much, Tobio. And I miss our life. Everything felt so simple, and I know you were cursed, I know it wasn’t really simple, but…but…”

“I get it,” Tobio quietly interrupted. “I told you, Sho, the curse didn’t matter. The year we spent together was the best year of my life.”

“Mine, too.” Shoyo stopped tracing Tobio’s features to let his hand rest on his cheek. “I can’t see you as clearly anymore. My mind, it…I don’t remember everything about your human face.”

“You don’t need to. You didn’t need to see my face before.”

“Because I couldn’t,” Shoyo snorted, though he sobered immediately. “It’s still scary. I didn’t realize how long it’s been.”

“But you’re still looking for me,” Tobio whispered, turning to press a kiss to Shoyo’s palm, “you dumbass.” He barely finished speaking before he was yelping from fingers pinching at his nose.

“Of course I am,” Shoyo huffed. “And I’m almost there. I’m so close, Tobio, we’ll be together soon, I promise.”

“Don’t make a promise to me, dumbass, I’m not even real.”

“You’re real enough right now. And that’s all I have.”

Those dark eyes softened. “For now. That’s all you have for now. But not for long.”

“Not for long,” Shoyo echoed, before ducking to steal one kiss…then two…then so many that he was laughing against Tobio’s lips, helpless to the fingers in his hair keeping him close.

Shoyo was used to waking up with tears on his cheeks and an ache in his heart from how badly he wanted to keep dreaming and stay with Tobio. But that morning, for once, he also woke up with a small smile on his lips.

☾

Shoyo was well-acquainted with roughing it on the road. He knew how to hunt for his own food, light a fire, even make his own shelter when he couldn’t bring a tent with him. In the smallest silver lining in the world, the weather had warmed enough that the combination of his hanten and physical exertion could keep him from feeling cold.

What he wasn’t used to was the loneliness. It was easier to ignore during the day, when he was distracted by the exhausting work of trudging through forests or hiking up hills that swelled in his path. He could even ignore it at night as he set up his campsite.

But then he would wait for some meat to cook, and he would spend too long staring into the flames before he was struck by the sheer…silence surrounding him. All he could hear was his own breath, the crackle of the fire and cooking meat, and the mysterious rustles of the nature surrounding him. Talking to himself didn’t work—it just made him imagine Tobio’s responses to his rambles, and then he couldn’t bring himself to speak around the lump that always lodged itself in his throat.

It worsened when he laid down to sleep, burrowing under his hanten and the blanket he brought and trying to calm his shivers. He missed the futon, the warmth of the yogi, the comforting quiet of the house instead of the unnerving sounds of the woods.

But more than anything, he missed Tobio. He missed the sound of his soft breaths, the feeling of them ruffling his hair and of a close, tender embrace. He missed drifting away in the middle of sleepy kisses, staying awake just long enough to hear Tobio whisper one last sweet taunt. He missed his subdued laughter, his grumpy arguments and shy confessions, his vulnerability, his teasing fingers and gentle hands.

The memories of everything he’d shared with Tobio and everything they meant to each other only solidified Shoyo’s determination to see this impossible quest through.

Those same memories left him falling asleep every night with tears on his cheeks and a shudder in his lungs.

☾

He’d known from the start that heading off on a quest with only “at the end of the sun” serving as a guide would be difficult, if not completely futile. That was never going to stop him, not with Tobio’s life on the line.

But when he crested another hill, and was greeted by another forest, and could see a mountain range looming on the horizon, promising to be an impossible obstacle in the near future, Shoyo could feel his body get flooded by the urge to collapse where he stood, dig out his blanket, and sleep. His mother had been right—this was a journey that could easily last months, if not years.

He’d already lost count of how many days it had been since he’d left home. However long it had been, he was now surrounded by flora that he could only recognize from his mother’s books, and the birdsong that greeted him each morning was strange to his ears.

Most unnerving of all was the lack of any human presence. All he had seen was the occasional home set up on a stretch of farmland, or tiny, run-down towns that didn’t look like they could support their own residents, much less a traveler. He only ever lingered long enough to trade away any hides and cleaned bones he'd accumulated for coins and supplies, before leaving to be on his own yet again. Suddenly, he had spent weeks sleeping in the wilderness, and the ache of his muscles became a perpetual guest in his body.

Still, he pushed on. A single roll of the blue stone between his fingers was enough to give him a burst of energy for the next few hours of trekking. His legs strengthened, his ears became sharper, and his movements grew ever quieter in his attempts to blend into the natural rustling of the forests he slipped through.

He was quieter, but not silent. The difference became chillingly clear after what might have been about a month. The days were continuing to lengthen, and he liked to take advantage of the extra hours of twilight. He knew other creatures liked to take advantage of those hours as well but he managed to avoid them until one evening, when he froze at the sound of a wolf howl.

It was a sound he still wasn’t acquainted with. For all of Tobio’s huffs, growls, whimpers and croons, he’d only ever howled a handful of times, and each time had sent a chill down Shoyo’s spine. He felt that chill now, but it wasn’t from awe. Now, it was from fear.

Quietly, he slid his dagger out of its sheath, keeping it clenched in his fingers like an anchor. He didn’t want to use Tobio’s bow—it felt wrong, somehow, to use it for this. It was one thing to use it for hunting, or even self-defense. But against a wolf…it felt too close to the act that had led to the curse.

So he relied on the dagger, thumbing at the familiar stitched patterns on the hilt to steady himself. After the howl, it felt like every passing sound in the underbrush was a threat somehow. Wolves moved quickly and with unnerving quiet. Who knew how close the howling wolf could be?

He tried to tell himself that he was being paranoid, but it was an empty reassurance. He knew better than anyone that the danger was very, very real.

His heart leapt to his throat when, after what felt like only minutes, his ears picked up the sound of a slow, deliberate, heavy tread trailing him. His breathing sped up just as a low growl rumbled from behind him, and his fingers nearly slipped on his dagger.

The growl and steps fell away, plunging Shoyo into a heavy silence that he recognized: it was the stillness that came before he loosed an arrow.

He spun around, dagger held at his chest, and felt his stomach sink when, sure enough, he saw a wolf crouching mere feet from him, body quivering in preparation to leap.

Objectively, the wolf didn’t look much like Tobio at all: its fur was a mix of grays and browns, and its eyes were a bright gold. More than that, the way it stared at him, all wild intent and curled lips, couldn’t have been more different from Tobio’s quiet adoration.

Yet Shoyo‘s breaths still shuddered in his chest at the thought of fighting the creature. It wasn’t like Tobio…but it was close enough. His body no longer trembled from fear. No, it trembled with revulsion at the thought of his dagger getting anywhere near that mottled fur.

“Please…,” he whispered, irrational in his desperation, “please don’t.”

The last thing he heard was a low growl. The last thing he saw was a blur of brown fur and sharp teeth.

Shoyo’s reflexes were the only reason he survived the wolf’s attack. He couldn’t brace himself against the wolf knocking him to his back, but he managed to throw his arm up before its slobbering teeth could meet his throat.

A scream tore out of Shoyo as the wolf’s powerful jaws closed around his forearm. The sharp, metallic smell of his blood mixed nauseatingly with the stench of the wolf’s breath. Adrenaline helped him hold strong, bracing his arm above him despite the pain lancing through him from the wolf’s bite.

“No!” he choked out, pain and panic sealing his throat. He still held onto his dagger with his other hand, but he didn’t wield it. He tried everything else to get the wolf off of him: shoving with his other arm, kicking at its hips, even an attempt to roll it over. But all his fighting only resulted in the wolf’s jaws slowly tightening around his arm, forcing more blood to seep out around its teeth, until he could feel the pressure on his bones. If he didn’t end it, he would be left with a broken arm, if not worse.

And so, with a shout somewhere between a sob and a scream, Shoyo plunged his dagger into the wolf’s throat.

Blood spurted from the stab, splashing over the dirt and Shoyo’s face. For a moment, the wolf’s jaws seemed to tighten, forcing him to land a second stab. With another gush of blood, the jaws finally loosened, slowly gaping open until Shoyo could jerk his arm out of its mouth with a pained gasp and shove the weakening body away before it could collapse on top of him.

The moment he was free of its weight, he scrambled upright, smearing away the already-drying splashes of blood and trying to staunch the blood still leaking out of his arm. Water…water, clean the wound, staunch the bleeding, wrap it tight.

His urgency kept him from giving in to the panic and grief pressing at his throat, and pushed him to his feet to stumble in the direction of the sound of running water. With every step he took, he could feel himself growing hazier with blood loss, but he kept pushing forward, his training as a samurai and lifelong lessons from his mother keeping him focused.

The moment he reached the small river flowing through the forest, he collapsed to his knees and stuck his bloodied arm into the ice-cold running water, a pained grunt pressing out of his throat at the shock. He moved automatically once he pulled his arm out: he quickly dried the wound, smeared on some ointment from his mother, and wrapped it tight with some cloth torn from the bottom of his hanten. He could feel the blood flow finally stop beneath the pressure of the tight wrap, letting him curl into himself now that the immediate danger was gone.

He was not new to death. One didn’t hunt nor work as a samurai without becoming well-acquainted with it. But he’d never killed a person, and even though the wolf had proven to be a real animal and not a cursed human, the encounter still made him feel sick to his stomach. He’d spent so much time with Tobio in his wolf form, and now, killing a wolf felt too close to killing a loved one.

Shoyo was 22 years old and could barely stomach the thought of killing an animal that reminded him of someone he loved. Tobio had been 16 when he’d shot a wolf and realized he’d shot a man. What kind of horror had he felt at his mistake? What kind of guilt, self-loathing? When Oikawa cursed him, did he try to fight back, or did he simply let it happen, fully believing that he deserved to be separated from his family, his home, everything he knew, even his own humanity? How could he begin to forgive himself when the only other person he had was his sister?

Six years. He’d lived with the curse for six years. And Shoyo had ruined his chance at freedom.

Tears burned in his eyes as he washed as much of the wolf’s blood off of himself as he could. The cold river water left his skin clean, but nothing could get the blood off of his robes. Staring down at himself, at the lingering reminder of the kill, Shoyo felt both a lump and bile rise in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into empty air, “I’m so sorry. I can’t…I didn’t…”

All of his training demanded that he go back to body and harvest what he could from it: fur, meat, even some bones and teeth. But his stomach turned at the thought of facing the body, much less carving it open. It was too much. He just…he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

He had to.

He scooped water up to his face, scrubbing his frozen fingers against his stinging eyes and the drying blood pulling at his skin. Then, with a deep, steadying breath, he straightened out his things (the bow and arrows had escaped miraculously unscathed) and began finding his way back to the wolf’s body.

It was easy to trace his steps—he’d left a trail of blood in his rush to the river, and with every step he took back, he became increasingly surprised at how far he’d gotten. In a strange way, he’d gotten lucky. If the river had been much further, he may not have been able to staunch his bleeding before it was too late.

The wolf’s body was fresh when he found it again—it hadn’t been so long since he’d killed it—but the sight of it still made bile rise in Shoyo’s throat. He had to take slow, deep breaths to keep himself from going dizzy as he knelt next to the body, pressed his hands to the ground, and lowered his head to them.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered into the blood-stained soil. “Your life will keep me fed and warm, and I will honor the gifts you have provided.”

With shaky hands, he unsheathed his dagger and set about the familiar work of carving the body. It was slow and painstaking, and he felt none of the usual comfort that he felt in the process. By the time he had the fur and meat next to him and buried the rest of the body, his eyes stung and the lump in his throat nearly suffocated him.

As soon as he was done, he gathered up his carvings and made the short trek to a small clearing, where he set up camp, stretched the skin out to salt and dry overnight, and made a haphazard meal from the meat. It was tough and gamey, as all predators’ meat was, but he ate as much as he could, as though it were the finest cuts of pig.

The moon was high as he set the rest of the meat to dry over the embers of the fire, and when he fell asleep, the last thing he saw were the leaves turning silvery in the moonlight, looking like stars floating down from the night sky.

☾

For all his exhaustion and aches, his body was adapting. The wolf pelt kept him warm as he trekked closer to the westward mountains, his hasty jerky kept him somewhat energized, and his legs didn’t protest as much at the steadily-increasing incline he climbed. Still, when he realized he would have to brave the mountains in a matter of days, dread settled cold in his bones. The only thing that melted it away was the sight of a path through the rocky forest. It was a small comfort in the face of the challenge facing him, but a comfort that nearly made him weep from relief.

The comfort didn’t last long.

“Eat dust, slowpoke!”

The shout and the sound of hooves were all the warning Shoyo had. He barely managed to throw himself to the side of the road before a beautiful black horse thundered past him, carrying someone with blonde hair and the most obnoxious cackle Shoyo had heard since Tsukishima saw his first attempt at tying his kimono.

“Tsumu, ya bastard!!”

Shoyo had begun to push himself to his feet, only to fall back over when another horse galloped past. This one was a palomino, all pale, creamy coloring, with a gray-haired man shouting on it.

They were gone as suddenly as they’d appeared, leaving Shoyo stunned on the ground. His adrenaline slowly sapped out of him, until he was falling back on his elbows, then his back. “What the fuck?” he whispered into the still forest air.

The words had barely left his lips when, as though summoned, the pale horse galloped back up, coming to a stop in front of Shoyo. He watched, wide-eyed, as the gray-haired man leapt off the horse’s back and stared down at Shoyo with matching shock. “O-oi, Tsumu!”

“What’re ya bein’ such a sore loser for?”

“Forget yer stupid race, idiot.” The gray-haired man glared up at his companion as he rode back up. In the blur of confusion and surprise, Shoyo distantly noted that the men were identical, apart from their hair. “Ya nearly killed someone!”

“What? No, I didn’t! Think I’d notice if—” The blonde man—Tsumu?—abruptly fell silent when he stopped his horse by his brother’s and finally saw Shoyo. “Oh…fuck.”

“‘Oh fuck’,” the other twin mockingly parroted. The brothers glared at each other for another second before the gray-haired one looked back at Shoyo. “Pardon the idiot, he doesn’t actually have anything in his head.”

“Oi!”

“You alright? Ya didn’t get hit by his horse or anything, right?”

Shoyo blinked out of his confused daze. “Uh…yeah. Yes, yeah, I got out of the way!”

“Where’d the blood come from?”

He looked down at the dried stain that still covered his right side. “It’s not mine. It’s from before, I’m okay.”

“Oh…well, good. Right then, if yer alright, we’ll just be on our way—”

“Hold on.” The gray-haired man had already stood up, and his crouching place in front of Shoyo was quickly filled by his twin. “Look at that katana…only samurai get to carry a beauty like that. What’s a big important soldier like you doing all the way out here?”

“I…I’m meeting someone,” Shoyo blurted out before he could think of a more elaborate lie.

“And that someone turned down the chance to meet you on your daimyo’s palace grounds?”

“They’re, ah…they’re stuck at home. Can’t leave.” He’d always been bad at lying, but it felt like he’d somehow gotten worse.

“Hm.” Disbelief lined Tsumu’s eyes, at odds with the charming smile on his lips. “Well, I just feel awful about nearly runnin’ you over,” he sighed, sounding distinctly guiltless. “How about I make it up to ya? Samu and I were just going to an izakaya, let me buy you a drink.”

“Just a drink,” his twin cut in. “We don’t have time for you to pick up another pet.”

Tsumu didn’t bother acknowledging his brother beyond a crude gesture over his shoulder. His eyes and smile stayed fixed on Shoyo. “Well? How about it?”

Shoyo had no interest in drinking with strangers, much less a stranger who had nearly flattened him with his horse and apparently had a habit of making “pets” out of people. But the thought of a warm izakaya after weeks of trekking was too tempting for him to refuse, and nothing said he couldn’t ask for a bite to eat instead of a drink. “…Alright,” he agreed.

In a matter of minutes, he was seated behind the blonde on his horse and holding on as they slowed from a gallop to a trot at the edge of a tiny town. Shoyo could practically hear his captain scolding him for agreeing to ride a horse with a stranger, but even Ukai wouldn’t have turned it down after traveling by foot for so long.

Strangely, despite its small size, the town was in remarkable condition, and would have even looked brand new if it weren’t for the carefully tended gardens by the houses and old posters on the town bulletins. It spoke of wealth to Shoyo, but he couldn’t understand why such wealthy people would choose to live in such a small town.

“Here we are!” Tsumu came to a stop in front of what looked to be a proper izakaya, with rice wine tastings accompanied by snacks and even some meals in the evenings. A freshly-painted sign announced that it was owned by “Kita and Ojiro,” and Shoyo could hear the murmur of patrons through the sturdy doors. He slid off of the horse, only to blink in confusion when Tsumu slid off after him. “It’s Samu’s turn to take ‘em to the stables,” he explained with a smug grin. “Loser’s punishment.”

Samu didn’t dignify him with a response as he took the horse’s reins from his twin, though Shoyo thought he heard a muttered curse as he rode towards the stables with Tsumu’s horse in tow. Tsumu either didn’t hear or didn’t care, smile unwavering as he lifted the izayaka’s entry curtain and beckoned for Shoyo to follow him.

“Ah, Atsumu, you’re back.”

“Who’s that? Picked up another stray?”

“Aran-kun, yer so mean! Can’t ya be nice like Kita-san?”

Three thoughts scattered through Shoyo’s mind at once:

1) “Atsumu”? Was he thinking of him by his nickname the whole time? 2) He seemed popular, though Shoyo wasn’t sure that was entirely positive. 3) Was that a tail?

The last question lingered, growing in urgency the longer Shoyo stared at Atsumu. Not only was that a tail…he was seeing two tails, a perfect match for Atsumu’s golden hair, which now sported two fox ears. When Shoyo finally dragged his eyes from his new companion to the rest of the izakaya, he was stunned to see that he wasn’t the only kitsune there, nor were kitsune the only storybook creature he was seeing. There were oni, tengu, youkai with names that Shoyo couldn’t remember, all glancing over at him and Atsumu with curious, unnaturally-colored eyes.

His eyes eventually drifted to the two men—no, kitsune—who were manning the bar. They were both tall, like the twins, though one was a bit shorter than the other. He had white hair with black tips, matching fox ears, light brown eyes that looked more sharp than warm, and a sense of perception that belied his blank features.

The taller man was remarkably handsome, with short-cropped black hair, fluffy black fox ears, smooth brown skin, and plush lips that were curled in a grin perfectly matching the playfulness in his thick, raised brow and glittering gray eyes. “If you think that Shin’s bein’ nice, ya still don’t know him that well.”

“Careful, Aran,” Kita hummed, one white ear flicking in a way that reminded Shoyo of the wolf, “I still have a few secrets I’d like to keep from Atsumu.” That pulled a hearty laugh from the handsome man, loud enough to overpower Atsumu’s whine.

“Kita-san! Right when I brought you a new patron!” Atsumu turned his pout to Shoyo, only to falter when he met his wide eyes. “Samurai-kun? What’s up with you?”

Try as Shoyo might, he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering from Kita and Aran’s ears back to Atsumu’s ears. Under his gaze, those golden ears tilted back just a bit, before Atsumu’s fingers brushed at them. “Somethin’ in my hair?”

“E-ears…”

“Huh?” His hand landed more firmly against one of his ears. “Oh…oh! Oh shit, you can see them?” The hand on his head pointed at the men behind the bar. “What about theirs?”

Shoyo mutely nodded.

“Oh, man! Since when?”

“He’s only seen us for a single minute, and he hasn’t said anythin’ about your ears until you two stepped in here,” Aran sighed, setting down the glass he was drying to lean against the counter and rest his other hand on his hip. “I think yer grand idea to go easy on the shrouding magic in here is finally backfiring. Whoever could’ve seen that comin’?”

“Oh, come on! You agreed to it!”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Kita quietly piped up, looking at Aran. “You got exhausted whenever ya put the shroud up at full strength.”

“It was worth it for the safety—”

“—which has only become a problem today, and how long have we run this place?”

Aran frowned, clearly ready to argue, when Atsumu cut him off with, “Hold on, other humans have come in here without seeing anything. I don’t think it’s the shroud that’s the problem.” His goldenrod eyes scanned over Shoyo, his scrutiny making him fidget and cross his arms over his chest. The movement drew Atsumu’s eyes to his wrist, and the bracelets Shoyo wore. “What’re those?”

Shoyo followed his eyeline, dread swooping low in his stomach at the sight of Oikawa’s stone resting just under Natsu’s gift and his father’s bracelet. “Um…gifts?”

“Really?” Atsumu caught Shoyo’s wrist and brought it up to his eyes, despite Shoyo’s struggles against his hold. “Since when has Oikawa given out ‘gifts’?”

The swoop of dread turned into a rock, dropping a heavy weight right in Shoyo’s gut. As though he sensed it, Atsumu’s eyes flickered up from Shoyo’s wrist with a smirk that looked more like a sneer. “Yer a sneaky one, aren’tcha? Thought I could sense some of Oikawa’s magic somehow, and it was on you all along.” His fingers tightened around his wrist. “Now you’ve seen our true forms. What should we do about that, hm?”

“I…I didn’t…”

“Oi, Tsumu, Suna fuckin’ raised the prices—”

“Welcome back, Osamu,” Kita interrupted, “your brother has just introduced us to the first human who can see our true forms.”

All sounds of movement behind Shoyo fell silent, before a low voice muttered, “Tsumu.”

“Samu?”

“Please tell me Kita-san’s sense of humor has gotten worse.”

“…Would you believe me if I did?”

“The human’s got an amulet from Oikawa,” Aran said before Osamu could say anything, “and it’s still got enough magic for him to see through the shroud.”

“Oikawa’s still around? And since when does he give gifts to humans?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Atsumu looked down at Shoyo with eyes that seemed to glow. “How about that drink, hm? Aran-kun distills some of the best sake around.”

Oh…those eyes didn’t look like they were glowing. They were glowing, as were the two tails swaying behind Atsumu. Shoyo had grown up hearing stories of kitsune’s wily charms and short tempers, but all the stories in the world couldn’t have prepared him for the terror of witnessing it himself.

And yet, despite his fear, Shoyo still found his voice and murmured, “Could…could I have some food instead of a drink?”

A surprised laugh barked from behind him, before he finally saw Osamu emerge to join Aran and Kita behind the bar. “I’ll make the onigiri,” he told Atsumu, “and you get the truth from him.”

“With pleasure,” Atsumu agreed with that dangerous grin. With the hold he still had on Shoyo’s wrist, he tugged him along to the raised floor just past the bar, where several pairs of curious eyes were watching them. A single sweeping glance from Atsumu redirected all attention back to the sake and conversation at each table.

They were sitting as close to the bar as possible, so that Shoyo’s explanation of everything could be easily heard by the three working kitsune. “Now then,” Atsumu began as soon as they had both settled on the edge of the raised area, “what on earth would Oikawa want with a little samurai like you?”

Little samurai. The same disdainful nickname Oikawa had given to him. It was strange to him that such powerful sorcerers and beings would focus so much on his size, as if that was what mattered out of everything he’d achieved.

He ignored the taunt, though his voice was low with frustration when he said, “He cursed someone I love. When we couldn’t break the curse, he took him away to his palace to serve him. I’m trying to track them down, find the palace, and convince him to let me bring that person back home.”

As he spoke, Osamu finished the onigiri and brought them over to Shoyo and Atsumu, settling down next to his brother and listening with a small frown. “Spirits,” he muttered, “I’m surprised Iwaizumi let him get away with that.”

To Shoyo’s credit, he nearly didn’t give anything away: his knuckles didn’t tighten, his onigiri didn’t crumble in his hand, and his gaze didn’t waver from the twins. All he did was swallow before he’d taken a bite or sip. It wasn’t his fault that that was all a kitsune needed to notice.

“Hold on,” Osamu muttered, “You didn’t mention Iwaizumi.”

Shoyo had never heard that name before, but the connection to Oikawa was enough for him to guess that he was the man Tobio had killed. “He…he passed away.”

The twins’ eyes widened like complementary plates. “Shit,” Osamu breathed, sitting back on his hands.

As his brother leaned back, Atsumu leaned forward, eyes narrowed and piercing on Shoyo. “Oikawa can be a bitch,” he hummed, taking in every flicker of movement on Shoyo’s face, “but he’s not cruel. Not unless somethin’ or someone he loves is in danger. So why would he curse someone you love, hm?”

Perhaps Shoyo didn’t need to explain the entire sordid affair. Maybe he could’ve just said that Tobio had killed Iwaizumi by accident and left it there. But he needed the kitsune to understand that Tobio wasn’t a killer, that he would never raise an arrow nor hand nor anything against another person. As he told the long story, Aran brought over a tray with a bottle of sake and four cups, serving out the drinks and settled down without letting his attention waver from Shoyo.

Silence fell over the group once Shoyo finished the story with, “That’s why I need to find them and rescue Tobio. It was a mistake, a serious mistake, yeah, but one that he’s already paid for with six years of his life. He can’t pay for it with the rest of his life, too. It isn’t fair.”

“No, it’s not,” Aran hummed. His gray eyes were as perceptive as Osamu’s, but there was a kindness there that warmed them, that made Shoyo think of soft ash instead of the sharp edge of a knife. “But you wouldn’t go on a big rescue mission like this if ya didn’t love him, too.”

Shoyo fiddled with his sake cup, ducking his head to watch the last drop swirl around the clay. “No…no, I wouldn’t.”

“All the love in the world’s not gonna let ya find Oikawa’s palace,” Atsumu scoffed. He knocked back the rest of his sake, missing the annoyed glare Aran shot him.

Shoyo was too startled by the mention of the palace to let himself feel frustrated. “You know where his palace is?!”

“Sure,” Atsumu said with an exaggerated sigh of happiness, setting his cup down. “All of us do. Doesn’t mean we’ve been. He does a better job shrouding that huge palace than we could shroud this tiny place.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry, Aran-kuuuun!”

“Where is it?” Shoyo asked. All pretense of careful apathy was gone, swept away by the prospect of finally having another hint of where to go. “Is it really at the end of the sun? Can you tell me how to get there?”

Atsumu looked startled by Shoyo’s eagerness, though his surprise only lasted a breath before it was replaced by slow, calculated glee. “And why would I do that?”

Just like that, Shoyo’s hope popped like a bubble. “…What?”

“Why would I do that?” Atsumu repeated with a lazy smirk. “Oikawa’s a scary man. If he finds out I told a mortal where his palace is, much less the lover of his lover’s killer, well…who knows what he’d do? I can’t take that risk, not unless I got somethin’ in return. So what’ll it be?”

Shoyo’s gut told him to just ask what Atsumu wanted, but he managed to catch himself before he could. Asking a kitsune what they wanted, especially under the pretense of a deal, was probably the most foolish thing he could do.

His fingers fidgeted in his lap, tracing the seams of his hanten as he thought. That’s when they bumped into the hilt of his dagger, and an idea came to him. “Do you like fighting?”

An eyebrow raised. “Sure.”

“Ever fought a samurai?”

The eyebrow lowered as the corner of Atsumu’s lips raised. “Not in a long time.”

“Then that’s what I’ll offer. The chance to fight a samurai, one-on-one, in a duel.”

A cruel laugh barked out of Atsumu. “Beggin’ yer pardon,” he snickered, “but you don’t look like you’ve had a good night’s rest nor any proper training in months.”

“Not a lot!”

“Still! Why on earth would I expect to get a worthy fight out of you?”

“Who says it has to be tonight?” Aran countered. “Let him get some actual sleep and rest tonight, and you can have yer big duel tomorrow. I’m sure Bokuto's place has some vacancies.”

“Aran-kun!” Atsumu whined. “Are you on his side or mine?”

“Your side is rarely a good side to be on. And besides”—he stood, taking the tray with the empty sake bottle and dirty cups with him—“maybe I just want to see true love prevail. Call me a romantic.” He winked at Kita as he returned to the bar, earning nothing more than pink cheeks and thin lips in response.

“Fine,” Atsumu sighed, slouching in his seat. “You take him, Samu.”

“What? Why?”

“Those owl tengu creep me out. And that quiet one likes you better! I can tell!”

“Can’t imagine why,” Osamu muttered under his breath. “Fine. D’ya have money, samurai-kun?”

“Wait.” Kita held a soot-black feather out to Osamu. “Akaashi owes me a favor.”

“Kita-san—”

“It’s my pleasure,” Kita interrupted Shoyo’s protest with a small smile. “Call me a romantic, too.”

“Th-thank you!” Shoyo stammered, dipping into a deep bow with warm cheeks. “Thank you so much!”

As he followed Osamu out, the kitsune murmured, “You oughta thank Aran later.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm. Kita-san doesn’t usually care to do any favors for patrons, ‘specially new ones. He musta given you the feather because he saw how much Aran and Atsumu like you.”

“Atsumu-san likes me?!”

That earned him his first laugh from Osamu. “Sure does. He wouldn’t have given ya the time of day if he didn’t. He’s just a bitch to everyone he knows.”

“O-oh.” Well. Shoyo didn’t know what to say. Agreeing would be rude, but trying to deny it would be a lie, and he was awful at lying.

Thankfully he didn’t need to decide, because the inn was just across the road. A gold-adorned sign named it “The Owl’s Nest,” and sure enough, when they stepped inside, they were greeted by a pretty, dark-haired owl tengu with brown wings tucked close to his body and black feathers blending from the edge of his face into his hair. Osamu simply had to hold up the feather from Kita for the tengu to take it from him with a tiny smile. “Kita truly never forgets, hm?” he hummed. “And who will we be hosting?”

“Careful, Akaashi-kun, he’s a samurai.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened as they flickered over Shoyo’s weapons and blood-stained clothes. “Ah. So he is. Alright, samurai-san, let’s get you settled in, shall we?”