#exceprt

The strange telepathic communication that sometimes shares thoughts and feelings between the four is especially frustrating because it’s not like the usual mind-reading Masaomi knows how to handle. From a very young age, he’s known how to compartmentalize his thoughts and keep them controlled, with mental shields and wards to prevent unwanted spies in his mind. Threats of mind-reading and mind-compulsions and otherwise dangerous psychic attacks were not that uncommon in his daily life of political intrigue in the Capital.

But this is different. It’s nothing like the magic he knew how to guard against, and it chafes against him like someone has put a collar around his neck.

That same bond pings again, and he looks to the left where the connection is coming from and sees Shiori sitting in the shade. This is enough to waylay his path, as he detours to talk to her. “Shiori, are you okay?”

“I am fine, Masaomi-san,” she says curtly. She stands up from her seat on the bench, and presses down the folds of her plain kimono. Shiori always did like to dress in traditional clothes, as was common in the Capital and in the main Estates, but once she wore silks and it pains him now to see her so low. She looks at him coolly, as if sensing his thoughts (which, all things considered, she might have) and then says, “You do not need to spare any thoughts toward my well-being.”

“Shiori,” Masaomi winces. “You can’t be like this forever.”

“Like what, Masaomi-san?”

“Mad at me. I’ve apologized, and you’re just being stubborn. I thought we were friends.”

“We were friends, Masaomi-san, and then left me to die,” Shiori says, smiling sweetly. “That sent a very clear message about the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I didn’t think they’d actually kill you,” Masaomi says, but he knows it sounds hollow. “At any rate, this absurd higher ground is ridiculous. You’d have done the same.”

And yet, strangely, I didn’t.

He hears her thought loud and clear, and she looks mortified once she realizes what she’s communicated. “Shiori,” he starts, his voice softer this time.

“Excuse me, Masaomi-san. I have business elsewhere.”

It’s a lie, and their new bond means he knows it’s a lie, but he doesn’t stop her as she walks away.

*

Masaomi finds Youji in the training yard, talking to the pretty gumiho woman he’s made friends with over the past couple of weeks.

“—stop dodging, how are we supposed to have a proper fake battle if you keep avoiding hits?”

“Sorry, Mi-chan, I guess I’m squeamish about being hit.”

“Uh huh. Oh look, your rich boyfriend is here.” Sakurano Michiru looks over at Masaomi and smiles. “Hello, rich boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Youji says.

“And I’m not that rich anymore, considering the other grand dragons froze my accounts,” Masaomi says.

“So you keep saying, but I’m not sure I believe you,” Michiru says, talking to Youji. “Although, you were making out with Corporal Toma last night. Get any?”

“He left early,” Youji says.

“He always does. I could’ve warned you. That man’s a tease.”

“I didn’t mind. It was an honor to be teased,” Youji says with a grin. Masaomi manages to hide his scowl but the irritation is probably communicated anyway.

Oh, so that’s where you were last night, Masaomi thinks, despite himself.

I was invited for drinks. You could’ve come along.

I wasn’t invited for drinks.

Out of the three of them—no, out of the four of them—Youji is the only one who is settling in nicely with the Magpies. Even Hinami seems irritated at how easily Youji is fitting in with the ranks. Just looking at the two of them, Youji would be the one people might think has been here for years, and Hinami the newcomer.

Then I’ll invite you next time, Youji thinks.

I don’t want to be invited, Masaomi snaps back, still irritated.

“See, and now you two are staring at each other intensely, which is a thing you two do a lot, and is certainly giving the impression to everyone on base that you guys are madly in love with each other,” Michiru says conversationally. Youji looks like he’s going to protest again, but Michiru just says, “I’m going to spare you the lie, which I’m sure will be very believable and convincing, because I have to go. I got a summons.” She waves her wrist, where the gold Cicada indicates a message received. “Be good, boys. Don’t do anything scandalous without me.”

“Lovely woman,” Masaomi says as she leaves, admiring the movement of her hips as she walks away.

“You’re staring.”

“That is the confident walk of a woman who clearly expected me to stare. It would have been impolite not to comply.”

“Uh huh. Well, behave. I like Mi-chan, and she would eat you alive. That was her kick earlier.”

Masaomi rubs his stomach, still convinced he can feel the dull ache. “Duly noted. You said you were going to be more careful in training sessions.”

“I got distracted, sorry,” Youji says. Hinami’s sparring sessions aren’t as intense, and she rarely gets injured. So far, it’s only Youji who keeps sending these inconvenient flares of pain through their unasked-for bond.

“Apologize to Shiori,” Masaomi says coldly. “She’s a court lady, and isn’t used to pain.”

“I did apologize to Shi-chan,” Youji says, his voice mild. “She’s very forgiving.”

Masaomi scowls, since there’s no way Youji doesn’t know what Masaomi and Shiori were talking about five minutes ago. “It’s all a front. Her grudges could freeze mountains.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He likes harping at Youji, because Youji never seems to mind. But after his conversation with Shiori, he can’t help but be keenly aware that Youji is the only one on this base who doesn’t treat Masaomi like he’s an evil villain. Abruptly, he asks, “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“For what?” Youji says, perplexed.

“For—you know. Leaving you to die, and what not.” Youji had already been shot by the humans. Masaomi left him thinking he was dead, or near-death.

“I had no expectations that you wouldn’t.”

“Ouch,” Masaomi says, surprised by the genuine hurt he feels at that statement. But then, he’d already betrayed Youji once before, so of course Youji would have expected that he’d do it again. It’s completely absurd that he feels hurt, when clearly Youji was right not to expect better of him.

“That’s not what I meant,” Youji says, frowning quizzically. His thick eyebrows move like silkworms on his face, and it actually makes him look charming.

“No?”

“I meant—I didn’t expect you to stick around. I didn’t expect anyone to stick around. Why would you have? We just met each other. You didn’t owe me anything.”

It’s everything Masaomi has been telling himself these past couple of weeks—I had every right to leave them! I owed them nothing!—but hearing Youji say it like that just sounds bare and false. “Well. It’s unlikely I’ll do it again.”

Masaomi hates how awkward that sounds. Youji just grins at him and says, “So were you worried when I didn’t come back to our room last night?”

“I wasn’t worried,” Masaomi says, bristling. “You’re my jailer, not my roommate.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

The fact that they’re sharing a military bunk is something that still chafes, because Masaomi has never shared living quarters with anyone. Much less a room that’s little better than a closet. But when they’d first arrived on base, Hinami had said, “I don’t trust you not to run away.”

“There’s nothing you could do to stop me,” Masaomi had said. But their bond was brand new at that point, and he didn’t know how to stop himself from automatically thinking, Youji would probably stop me from leaving. That thought had, quite embarrassingly, been transmitted to the other three. Youji had looked flattered, Shiori had looked coolly intrigued, and Hinami had said, “Good, then Yamazaki will room with you and stop you from leaving.”

The fact that Masaomi is sure that Youji could stop him from leaving—or at the very least, would be able to track him down and bring him back, if he did leave—upsets him more than the fact that he now has to share a room. Not that he plans on leaving, (he’s learned from that mistake), but he’d like the option.

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to leave so much if you made more friends,” Youji says helpfully.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t help it, you’re broadcasting your thoughts so loudly,” Youji says, his voice abashed.

“I am not. I have complete control over my thoughts. This is ridiculous. Call the divine Avatar and tell her to stop this stupid bond thing. I refuse to be a divine champion if I have to keep sharing my thoughts with the three of you.”

“I keep telling you, I don’t know how to summon her. She just shows up. I’m not sure why you keep thinking I have special access to Madhuri anyway.”

“Probably because you call her Madhuri like she’s a childhood friend and not a divine Avatar,” Masaomi says. He’s only known this man for three weeks, and he’s still not sure if Youji is purposefully evasive or if he’s genuinely bad at understanding subtext. Because it has certainly occurred to Masaomi (and Shiori, he’s sure) that Youji is the one whom Madhuri chose to rescue Masaomi from prison. Of the four of them, Youji is the only one Madhuri has talked to without the presence of the others. Masaomi doesn’t believe for a second that Youji is too dim to understand that makes him different from the rest of them.

“What else am I supposed to call her? She didn’t give a family name,” Youji says, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Masaomi gives up.