wisteriashouse

[wisteriashouse]

fortuitous

pairing: kaveh x jeanne de la roche (oc)

genre: romance; commission

word count: 10521

a/n: had to go rewatch kaveh's story quest for this ayy @hinokami-s

If Kaveh has to interact with just one more person on his way home, he thinks that he might have a breakdown right outside Puspa’s Cafe that is going to be everybody’s problem.

He isn’t going to, of course — Kaveh is far too much of a people pleaser for that — but archons is he close to his breaking point. He’s been up even before the sun today, bouncing between what had felt like an endless amount of meetings with increasingly unbearable clients. Now that the day is over, however, Kaveh can barely feel any relief. Instead, all he can think about is face first into his bed the second he gets through the front door.

He stops in front of one of the houses along Treasures Street, fumbling with the bag on his shoulder. Please, please, don’t let this be yet another of those times where he has to ask Al-Haitham to open the door… He rifles more desperately through its jumbled contents once more, hears a familiar jangle of metal muffled at the bottom. “There you are!”

So he hadn’t forgotten his keys after all, which might be the first thing that has gone well for him today. The key turns smoothly in the lock and Kaveh steps into the house, embarrassingly proud of himself, until he sees Al-Haitham sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in his hand and a book open on his lap.

A completely normal sight, considering that this is his house. What isn’t normal is that the miserly stickler appears to be doing work. Outside of his regular working hours? Impossible!

Kaveh sticks his head back outside to check the sky situation. The sun is setting over the Avidya Forest, the sky is clear with small patches of clouds drifting by and… hmm, no flying pigs. Very, very odd. 

“Al-Haitham,” Kaveh says as he toes off his slippers at the door and turns around, “did those Spantamed researchers you were talking about slip a potion into your food or something? Because there is something seriously wrong with you today— woah!”

A pair of aquamarine blue eyes blink up at him from the couch, and Kaveh nearly falls over his own feet as he stumbles backwards in surprise. Not his best moment, he knows. Seated next to Al-Haitham (and conveniently blocked off from his line of sight by the door) is a young woman, a few papers in her gloved hands. Her clothes are clearly foreign, bearing the sharp yet flamboyant silhouettes characteristic of Fontainian couture. Her features too, look foreign. Most likely not a Sumerian.

An overseas Akademiya associate, perhaps? No, no, the man sitting in front of him would rather dance stark naked for the Zubayr Theatre than bring Akademiya work home. Logically, that only leaves one possibility… that she is Al-Haitham’s friend.

A highly unlikely possibility, since Al-Haitham doesn’t have any friends. Kaveh would know. Besides, why would anyone, much less a beautiful lady like her, put up with that acerbic tongue of his?

But all that is irrelevant to Kaveh’s current predicament. Someone has seen him entering Al-Haitham’s house, and if they have even one brain cell, will surely put two and two together and realise that Kaveh has been forced to take up residence with Al-Haitham. It might be just one person, but that is already one person too many. He needs to think of a solution, and fast!

“Hi! Good, amazing evening.” Kaveh is all too painfully aware of just how nervous he sounds right now, fumbling at his bag desperately as though hoping to magic out some sort of assistance from its depths. “Hey, Al-Haitham. Didn’t see you there. Amazing house. Never been here in my life, ever. I just stopped by on my way to the tavern to hand you this…” he pulls out a miniature model of the Alcazarzaray Palace from his bag. Fuck. “Well, I hope you like it. Here you go.”

The woman stares at him as he plants the model on the coffee table and glances over at Al-Haitham, but not before he catches the brief flash of recognition in her eyes. Oh, it’s over. Oh, it’s so over — his reputation, his dignity — all gone like a puff of smoke in the wind.

“Come in before you make a fool of yourself — more than you already have, at least,” the Acting Grand Sage mutters from his couch, blocking out Kaveh’s indignant expression with a well timed sip of tea. “Jeanne here is a business associate of mine from Fontaine. I assure you, she hasn’t the slightest interest in your living arrangements. There’s no need to think too highly of yourself.”

Kaveh opens his mouth to protest, but manages to rein in his tongue at the last moment. No, he’s not going to sink down to Al-Haitham’s level.

Instead, he grudgingly shuts the door behind him and steps into the house, glances at Jeanne as he does. So she’s Fontainian, just as he’d guessed. Kaveh is still a little wary, but Al-Haitham isn’t the type to lie for the sake of something as pointless as petty entertainment. And he seems to be right, because the lady’s attention has already returned to the papers in her hands.

He tries not to stare too much as he moves to set his things down in the kitchenette. Al-Haitham and the woman seem to be deep in discussion about something that Kaveh can’t quite make out. Listening in to other people’s conversation is in poor taste, but Kaveh can’t shake the nagging feeling that they might be talking about him. He knows that it’s paranoia, but it doesn’t stop him from loitering around the kitchen area, keeping an ear out for the conversation.

“... but it depends on which area he was arrested in…”

“... oh? The laws change depending on that?”

“... Akademiya might be the official governing body of Sumeru, but the desert… Eremites…”

From what he’s able to gather, the two seem to be talking about a criminal — a Fontainian noble who’d fled to Sumeru after being convicted of a crime back in his homeland. And this lady, Jeanne, is the one responsible for hunting him down and bringing him back to Fontaine to stand trial. She hands him another sheet of paper. “And this would be enough for the Akademiya to release him back into our custody?”

“Were you expecting something more convoluted?” Al-Haitham shrugs, bringing his cup back to his lips. “We don’t want him here in Sumeru, what can I say? The quicker he leaves our borders, the better it is for us. Why, is there going to be a problem with that?”

Jeanne shakes her head. “No. I much prefer it this way. Legal proceedings tend to be… needlessly complicated in Fontaine. I’m just glad to hear that things are far more efficient here.” She reaches into the heavy bag by her feet, and pulls out what is frankly a terrifying stack of papers. “Unfortunately, since you are the one approving his extradition, the court of Fontaine will require you to fill in these forms for the different legal offices.”

The look Al-Haitham aims at those papers could probably curdle milk in a matter of seconds. Jeanne glances at him out of the corner of her eye, before she wordlessly takes half of them back. “Although I am not familiar with Sumeru’s laws, I can try to fill in some of the more mundane questions. Apologies for troubling you, Al-Haitham.”

The Acting Grand Sage eyes the papers with no small amount of disgust, but he eventually sighs and reaches over to take the papers from her. “No worries. I can do it.”

Kaveh has to remind himself not to stare too conspicuously at his roommate. Al-Haitham? Agreeing to take on unnecessary work? The man sitting in front of him must be some sort of Kshahrewar doppelganger, because Kaveh doesn’t recognise him at all.

Jeanne frowns. “But—”

“I was a scribe before my current… inconvenience.” That is no way to speak about the coveted position of the Akademiya Grand Sage! “I’m quick with a pen.” His roommate looks at her. “Besides, I think I finish things more efficiently alone.”

Kaveh’s mouth drops open with no small amount of horror. That’s not how you speak to a lady, you idiot!

But Jeanne only nods, an expression of relief on her face. “You have my gratitude, Al-Haitham.” Its recipient only waves it off.

“Come back tomorrow and I should have everything done by then. And please, enough with the formalities. Pointless courtesies tire me out.”

“Hm. If you say so.”

The two stand up, and Kaveh hurries back to minding his own business. He reaches for a cup, but ends up knocking it over. The wooden mug lands on the floor with a loud clack.

Kaveh closes his eyes, glances back to see Al-Haitham and the woman looking at him, and immediately averts his gaze to pick the cup up. Well, as if today hasn’t been embarrassing enough for him already. This is just salt on an open wound, now.

He chances another glance over his shoulder and very nearly drops the cup again when he sees Jeanne still staring at him. Not that he’s not flattered, but it does make him a little uncomfortable. Why, does he still have paint on his face? Or worse, does she recognise him somehow?

Before he can beat a hasty retreat to his room, Jeanne turns to Al-Haitham. What leaves her mouth next shocks him. “Could I take your roommate out for a quick conversation?”

Kaveh stares at her, stunned. He’s standing right here, you know! In earshot and everything! Al-Haitham frowns at him — why! — before waving Kaveh over — double why!

“Kaveh,” Al-Haitham announces, matter-of-factly, before Kaveh can get a word in. “Jeanne wants to have a word with you.” What, that’s it? No elaboration and no explanation? The two of them have never met before — what business does she have with him? 

And if he’s being honest, Kaveh is a little terrified by the idea. Not just because she hadn’t told him why she suddenly wants to speak with him, but she is a rather intimidating lady with that large scar over the bridge of her nose, the glass-splinter hardness to her eyes. Eyes that are, oh, looking at him again.

“If you would be so kind, Monsieur Kaveh,” Jeanne adds. Kaveh likes to think that he is good at reading people — a fun effect of overthinking and all that — but her expression is even more indecipherable than Al-Haitham’s. 

He stares intently at his roommate, trying to convey his reluctance with his eyes. “Well, I’m kind of tired today, so…”

“She isn’t going to eat you,” Kaveh yelps as Al-Haitham begins to push him in the direction of the door. Maybe he is the one who’s too easy to read? “Now, get out of here so that I can finish this paperwork in some peace and quiet.”

“I am a very considerate person!” Jeanne follows the two of them as Kaveh protests. “I am the very epitome of peace and quiet!”

“Your voice is shrill. And it hurts my ears.”

“My voice isn’t shrill. You’re just…”

Despite his vigorous protesting, Kaveh is escorted out of the living room and through the front door. Jeanne steps out of the doorway elegantly, adjusting the collar of her coat as Kaveh stumbles to catch his balance. 

“Don’t let him drink too much,” is all Kaveh hears in Al-Haitham’s usual bland tone, before the door swings shut in front of him.

Kaveh stares blankly at the closed door for a few seconds in disbelief before he shakes his fist at it. “May the gods bring a plague upon you and your…” he pauses, hesitates, “upon just you, you rude bastard…”

“I apologise for my rudeness.” Kaveh spins around to see Jeanne still standing there, and right, he’d quite forgotten that she is the reason he’s out here in the first place. He’s never met her before, or at least he doesn’t think he has — he’s quite sure that he would remember someone as striking as her if he had.

“Ah, no. It’s fine.” He licks his lips awkwardly, looks over his shoulder for an exit route. The door is still shut. “Umm… you said that you wanted to speak to me—”

“Ah. I realise that I have failed to properly introduce myself.” Jeanne shakes her head and takes a step forward, holds out a gloved hand. Kaveh takes it, trying not to show too much awkwardness on his face.

Instead of shaking it, however, Jeanne grasped it lightly before leaning down to press her lips to the back of it. An action that, most understandably, turns Kvaeh into a flushed, flustered mess almost right away. “Greetings. I am Jeanne Éscarlate de la Roche, first daughter of the de la Roches family and an enforcer with the Maison Gardiennage.” The de la Roches… Kaveh has never heard of this family, but they sound important. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Architect Kaveh, Light of Kshahrewar. I have heard many good things about you.”

Kaveh nearly chokes at that obnoxious title, shaking his head at once. “Please, please, don’t call me that. I’m just Kaveh.”

Jeanne’s grip on his hand falters, her expression turning mildly confused. “Apologies… have I mistaken your identity? Al-Haitham is the one who introduced you as such… Are you not the illustrious architect of Kshahrewar who designed the Palace of Alcazarzaray, Kaveh?”

Kaveh can scarcely believe his ears. Al-Haitham said that? Is he going to burst into song next? Surely she is being polite — there is no way his roommate would ever speak a single, positive word about him. Squeezing water from a rock would be a more plausible feat. “I… Well, I am an architect.”

“Do you mean to say there is another architect named Kaveh who designed the Palace of Alcazarzaray in Sumeru?”

Each question feels like a bullet round being fired point blank at him. Please… he doesn’t want to have to say it out loud. “I… was the architect who designed that, yes.”

“Ah.” It’s hard to see, because her expression remains almost completely unchanged, but he notices the way that her eyes briefly light up — and his stomach drops at once. Is she somehow familiar with one of his acquaintances in Sumeru? One that is unaware of his current living arrangements? If word gets out, it’ll definitely spread like wildfire, and Kaveh’s reputation as a reliable architect and businessman will be in ruins and tatters!

Before Kaveh can come up with a way to minimise the damage already caused, Jeanne continues to speak. “Then, you must be familiar with my younger sister, Arabella, I presume?”

Who? The name is completely foreign to him. Arabella… a Fontainian… someone’s younger sister… dark hair and a feathered hat similar to the one on Jeanne’s head come to mind. “Do you mean Aria?”

“That is the name she often goes by when travelling, yes.” Jeanne nods very seriously at that, seemingly oblivious to Kaveh’s surprise. The Aria that he’d met at Lambad’s Tavern by chance a couple of years ago had been a bubbly, excitable and expressive lady with a rare flair for the arts. Nothing at all like the stoic, impassive woman standing in front of him right now.

Still, Aria — or Arabella now, he assumes — has mentioned her siblings multiple times over drinks. An overly responsible older sister who doesn’t know how to express herself but is as sweet as sugar underneath… Well, Kaveh can definitely see Jeanne fitting the first half of the description to the letter.

“Yeah, I know Ari— Arabella,” Kaveh nods, trying not to sound too taken aback. “Is she what you wanted to speak to me about?”

Jeanne nods solemnly. There is a grave expression on her face. From the way that Aria had spoken about her siblings, Kaveh doesn’t think that the woman in front of him has any malicious intentions. Still… there must be some sort of reason that she’s here, instead of speaking to her sister directly, isn’t she? “I’d just like to say… if you’re expecting me to divulge any secrets of hers, then I think we should end this conversation here. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

Jeanne blinks at him, a look of surprise briefly crossing her face, before a quiet noise escapes her mouth. It takes Kaveh approximately five seconds to realise that it was a laugh. 

“You are a person of honourable character,” she tells him, and although her expression seems to have barely changed, there is definitely a glint of approval to her eyes that wasn’t there earlier. Kaveh feels like he’s just passed a test of some sort. “I didn’t doubt my sister’s judgement, but now I see for myself why she speaks so highly of you.”

Aria does? Kaveh isn’t sure if the two of them are particularly close. They run into each other whenever Aria decides to travel to Sumeru. They drink together, exchange their ideas about the arts, and occasionally their woes. To know that she thinks well of him… it’s surprising, but also strangely pleasant.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Perhaps, I should have phrased my words more accurately.” Jeanne nods, grasping her cane with one white gloved hand. “I wish to speak to you about my sister, but I assure you that I do not intend to pry out of you anything that she wishes to keep hidden.”

She sounds genuine enough. Kaveh nods slowly. “Go on…”

“I am here for… advice, I suppose.” Jeanne’s expression is thoughtful as she speaks, as though contemplating each word very carefully. “I am untalented at discerning the emotions of others, but even I can tell that my sister has become troubled as of late. She has been sneaking off to other nations more regularly for trips, but does not seem any happier when she returns. It is quite unlike her.” She looks at Kaveh, and he sees her brows slightly furrowed with concern. “Hence, I wish to ask you if you might have any insights on this matter.”

Kaveh purses his lips. This was unexpected, but not surprising. He might not see Arabella very often, but the two of them can be considered drinking buddies. Alcohol has a tendency to loosen people’s lips, bringing more of their true thoughts to the surface. 

And he has noticed Arabella’s sudden bouts of sullenness. It would be harder not to, with how excitable and happy-go-lucky she usually is. He thinks back to the most recent conversation that the two of them had. 

“Why don’t you tell your siblings about this?” Kaveh had suggested, when Arabella had brought this up. The two of them might be on friendly terms, but Kaveh doesn’t think that they are close enough for him to advise her on such a complicated issue. Cultural and societal norms differ between Fontaine and Sumeru, too.

Arabella had stared into her empty tankard for a long while. “I don’t want them to have to worry about me…” she’d confessed after a moment of silence. “I’ve taken care of these kids since they were… kids. It’s strange to talk to them about my own problems, y’know?”

He actually doesn’t, because Kaveh has never had siblings in his life. But he does understand locking up all his emotions and throwing away the key so as not to bother others. He’d never met any of Arabella’s siblings before, so he’d refrained from commenting further, but now…

Well, not that he knows Jeanne very well. But she seems to be someone who genuinely cares for Arabella, and Kaveh can get behind that.

“I don’t know everything,” he admits slowly. The intensity of Jeanne’s gaze makes him sweat a little, but Kaveh presses on bravely. “It’s a little… complicated, though, and might take a while to explain…”

Jeanne blinks, before taking a step back. Kaveh lets out an unconscious sigh of relief. “Apologies. I hadn’t considered that.” She glances at the street over her shoulder. “I suppose that this is indeed a poor place to have a serious conversation. How about we go to Lambad’s Tavern to discuss this over some drinks?”

Kaveh brightens up instantly at the sound of alcohol, realises that, and then immediately attempts to tone down his excitement. He’s been trying to cut back on drinking for a while now, to a low degree of success, but… come on, it’s been a stressful day. And it’s not like he was the one who initiated it, was he? “Well, if you’re insisting…”

“Oh. Do not worry, I am not. If you are uncomfortable with drinking—”

“No! I mean, no, I’m— ah, well. I’m not against drinking as long as it is done in moderation, of course.” Jeanne nods very seriously in response to his half-hearted words. 

“That is a good mindset to have. All things must be enjoyed in moderation, else it becomes too easy for one to succumb to indulgence.” Kaveh feels like he wants to wilt in embarrassment. “Then, shall we get going?”

“Alright, then…” Kaveh glances back at the locked door for a second. He feels as though he’s forgotten something important, but he can’t quite remember what it is. “Oh. Wait, umm…” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, feeling suddenly awkward. “Could I ask you for a favour?”

Jeanne looks at him, completely serious. “If it is reasonable and within my power, of course.”

“That is great.” Kaveh gestures back at the house, where Al-Haitham is undoubtedly enjoying his quiet and alone time. “Could I trouble you to keep my current, uhm, living arrangements a secret?”

“You mean the fact that you live with Al-Haitham?”

Kaveh cringes instinctively at the sound of it. “Yes, that.”

Jeanne’s brows lift slightly, a near imperceptible movement. “Is there any reason you do not wish for others to know that you are living with Al-Haitham? I noticed that you were acting oddly earlier, when you first returned to the house, but I could not figure out why.”

Fuck, had he really been that obvious? “I just…” He hesitates for a moment. It’s too difficult to put everything into just words. How is Kaveh supposed to explain why he’s worried about his reputation without sounding like a complete and total snob? And if he tells her about his financial struggles… she’d definitely laugh at him because of the whole Palace of Alcazarzaray fiasco. “It’s just embarrassing,” he says at last, putting his hands together in a show of supplication. “So… don’t tell anyone. Please?”

Jeanne nods solemnly. “Of course. I shall respect your wishes. I am not familiar with many people in Fontaine, so rest assured that I have no reason to tell anyone.”

That’s a relief to hear. “Then, shall we go?”

“Oh, yes. This way, please…”

>>>

Although he had initially been excited for some drinks, his enthusiasm is at rock bottom by the time they reach the tavern. The reason? The walk down Treasures Street might have been the most awkward experience that Kaveh has ever had to suffer through in all the years of his life. Not because the conversation went poorly, but because there had been no conversation at all.

Surely it is socially polite to… make small talk while in the presence of another person, yes? But Jeanne hadn’t said a single word since leaving the house, leaving Kaveh to stew in awkward silence all the way until the tavern. Part of him is seriously starting to regret coming out in the first place.

Fortunately, there is a fair crowd at Lambad’s Tavern tonight, the air filled with the hum of idle chatter. The two of them find seats at the edge of the tavern, and Kaveh, unable to endure the silence any longer, finally speaks up. “So… is there anything that you’d like?”

Jeanne looks down at the menu in her hands, before she pushes it over to him. “I’m not very familiar with alcohol,” she tells him bluntly. “I just tend to drink whatever others order. Get anything you’d like.”

Kaveh glances up from the menu, momentarily thrown off. “So… you’re not actually a drinker? I don’t want to accidentally get you hammered…”

“Oh, don’t worry. That won’t be an issue,” Jeanne reassures him. “I might not have any inclination towards alcohol, but it doesn’t mean that I am inexperienced. My work tends to put me in positions where I have to drink, so my alcohol tolerance is extraordinarily high.”

That doesn’t sound very good… Kaveh resolves not to order anything too high in alcohol percentage tonight. All for Jeanne’s sake, and not because he’s a complete and utter lightweight, of course. “Any preferences…?”

“I usually find the overpowering bitterness of coffee very refreshing.”

Kaveh stares for a second too long before he looks down at the menu once more. “I’ll just order something simple then.”

“Sounds good.”

He puts down his order, and Lambad quickly comes around to their table. He raises an eyebrow when he sees Kaveh and Jeanne together. “With a different gal this month, eh? You sure are popular with the Fontainian ladies, Kaveh!”

Kaveh’s entire face goes red. “What? I’m not—” Lambad sets the bottle of anise and date wine between the two of them, before he grins at an unsmiling Jeanne. “Have a fun night, the two of you.”

He’s gone before Kaveh can say anything else. “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Kaveh turns to Jeanne at once. “He’s just, uh, trying to be funny. Ignore him.”

“I can appreciate his sense of humour and his efforts to put me at ease,” Jeanne replies seriously, as she reaches out to pour them both a cup. “But speaking about my sister… When was the last time that the two of you met? I would like confirmation about the timeframe that I have in mind.”

Kaveh swills the milky white alcohol in his cup. The slight scent of licorice rises up to his nose. “Hmm… maybe a month or so? She mentioned having some trouble back in Fontaine that she couldn’t put off any longer.”

“Trouble. Hmm…” Jeanne stares at the table for a few seconds, before she knocks back the entire cup. Kaveh stares at her, open mouthed in shock, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Did my sister mention what kind of trouble?”

He takes a much more modest sip of wine from his cup and instantly makes a face at the burn in his throat. No, Lambad didn’t serve them a watered down bottle of alcohol. How did Jeanne even… nevermind. “Something related to romance? She didn’t talk about it explicitly, but she did ask me for advice about how to approach a man… not that I’m very helpful in that regard, I think.”

“I’m sure that you were very helpful,” Jeanne offers, completely sincere.

“No, I definitely wasn’t.” Kaveh shakes his head, takes another sip. “But, uh, I suppose she has a lover… or maybe a potential lover of sorts in Fontaine? One that she doesn’t quite know how to approach?”

“Hmm. Up till now, I thought that lover might have been you. But I suppose that I was wrong.”

Kaveh chokes on his cup instantly. What did she just say? “What!?”

Jeanne hands him a clean white kerchief in alarm. “I apologise for causing you such agitation,” she tells him, her expression genuinely apologetic. “I should have known better. You are not my sister’s type.”

Kaveh coughs one last time and dabs at the corner of his mouth with the kerchief — luxurious, thick Silk Flower silk with no creases. It almost feels too expensive to be putting his mouth on. “... thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Jeanne sits back down and downs yet another cup of the wine. That’s like her, what, third cup now? And she still looks stone cold sober. Terrifying… “Do you have any idea as to who this potential lover might be? I already have an idea of this person’s identity, but I would like to make sure.”

“Uhmm…” Kaveh takes another sip of wine to cover up his embarrassment. “Someone who’s in a… unique position of power? Complicated social standing? Yeah, that’s how she described him.”

“Hm. That does confirm my suspicions.” Jeanne leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest thoughtfully. She seems to have relaxed a bit now, which is good. Or so Kaveh had thought, because she spends the next few minutes pondering this all on her own, leaving Kaveh to the sad, melancholy tune of silence once more.

Not wanting to disturb her, Kaveh turns to the only thing left to do — the bottle of wine on the table. He pours himself a cup, and then another, and then another. Lambad doesn’t skimp on quality — sailors know the value of good alcohol, and this wine is some of the best that Kaveh has ever tasted. Which, eventually, leads to another problem: the bottle has run dry.

Kaveh upturns the bottle, shakes it vigorously and sets it back down with a sigh. Seems like that’s it for the night, he thinks, but Jeanne notices, to his surprise. “Let us order another bottle.”

That won’t be healthy for his wallet. But how is he supposed to turn her down nicely? “I don’t think we really need another drink… we won’t be here for much longer, will we?”

Jeanne blinks at him. “We won’t? Oh, am I unpleasant company to be around?”

“No!” Kaveh rushes to correct her. “I just… I just thought that you didn’t have anything else to ask me, so…”

“I would like to know more about my sister’s friend in Sumeru,” Jeanne corrects, and flags down one of the staff members serving drinks. “Order without hesitation. Since you have done me a great favour today, the drinks are on me.”

Really? “No! Really, there’s no need.” The staff member who had come up next to their table is starting to look a little annoyed now. “I don’t need any more drinks.”

“We’ll have whichever alcohol you recommend, thank you” Jeanne tells the staff member, who huffs and disappears back to the main building. Kaveh winces, awkward. “You didn’t have to…”

“As I said, you have done me a great favour today. I dislike leaving favours unpaid.”

“This can barely be considered a favour.”

“It might seem insignificant to you, but the weight that it has taken off my mind is immeasurable.” She says this so seriously that Kaveh cannot bring himself to argue against it. The server soon returns with a jar of snake wine, something that Kaveh has never been able to convince himself to order for his own enjoyment, and sets it on the table in front of him. He can already feel himself salivating.

Jeanne cracks off the top of the jar and pours them both a cup, before pushing Kaveh’s over to him. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you.” Kaveh knocks back the cup before he can hesitate any longer, and very nearly faints with how good it tastes. It must be good, having money. “So… what do you do for a living?”

“Me?” Jeanne pauses, swirling the cup in her hand. “Well, as I mentioned earlier, I am an enforcer with the Maison Gardiennage. We are responsible for Fontaine’s public order and safety.”

Right, Al-Haitham had mentioned that. So that’s why she was discussing criminal matters with him. “I thought that most Gardes wear those blue uniforms.”

“I’m part of the Special Security and Surveillance Patrol, to be more specific. We do not follow the Gardes dress code to move more inconspicuously, although that is rarely helpful in my case.” She gestures at the scar across her face. Kaveh holds back a sympathetic wince. He’d seen it earlier, but now that he’s seated closer, he can see the jagged edges of the scar, the old but healed skin tissue. 

It must have been a painful wound. Jeanne, however, doesn’t seem to be very self-conscious about it. That only gives Kaveh more respect for her.

“And what does the Special Security do?”

She shakes her head. “That is classified. I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

Kaveh laughs, but then it trails off awkwardly. Jeanne said that with such a straight face — it doesn’t seem like a joke. He would like to keep his head right where it is — on his shoulders — thank you very much. 

“Some of the criminals that you’re dealing with?”

“Classified, I’m afraid.”

“Colleagues?”

“Also classified. I can’t go into too much detail about my work — non-disclosure agreement.” Kaveh sighs and takes another sip from his cup. As much as he’d wanted to clear the awkwardness, part of him had also wanted to find out more about this intriguing Fontainian lady in front of him. This is a little disappointing. “Instead, how about you tell me about what you do for work?”

“Me?” Kaveh isn’t too sure why she’d want to hear about his work. Sketching buildings and making mini models sound pretty boring, especially compared to the kind of work that Jeanne probably does on a daily basis. “It’s nothing interesting, really…”

“But my sister always speaks very highly of what you do. She says that you are daring, and have many original ideas that you see through to fruition.” Jeanne counters. “I am someone who lacks originality, so I must admit that I was very intrigued when I heard about that.”

Originality… All Kaveh can remember is the Palace of Alcazarzaray. It’s not that he regrets creating it, it is his magnum opus after all, but pursuing originality does have its cost.

“Why do you think that you lack originality?”

Jeanne purses her lips thoughtfully at that. “After I was adopted into nobility, I was made to go for a number of classes in the classical arts. I picked most of them up rather quickly, but I can only emulate others. For example, I could paint what someone told me to, but I wouldn’t be able to think of what to paint on my own. I memorised many concertos, but could never come up with an original piece. That is why I admire creatives such as you and my sister.”

Oh. The only topic that he and Al-Haitham agree on, probably, is how the rigorous schooling and immense pressure to graduate in the Akademiya tends to stifle original thought. It’s sad to hear the same thing occurring in other nations as well.

“Besides, my sister has praised many of your works in the past. Since I do not have the time to visit all the buildings that you have designed myself, I hope to hear about them from you instead.”

How can he not feel flattered by that? The last person who’d been so interested in hearing about his works had been Arabella herself. Suddenly feeling a little too pleased, Kaveh takes a big gulp of the snake wine and begins to speak. “Then, I can start with telling you about the lighthouse at Port Ormos…”

>>>

“And those stupid old fogeys have no idea what’s possible or not! They wanted a stairway without rails — let me repeat, without rails! Are they idiots? Do they think they can fly? If someone slips off those stairs, that’ll be the end of it for them. But no, they said. Aesthetics are not meant to be practical, they said!”

Jeanne nods and very subtly slides Kaveh’s cup away from him. She now understands why Al-Haitham had told her not to let Kaveh drink too much — the man is a lightweight, and a terrifically noisy drunk to boot. Still, many of his complaints are valid, and he seems to be someone without much of an outlet for his frustrations. Jeanne might get along with Al-Haitham, but she is aware that the man isn’t the best listening ear.

“You should bring them up to a similarly high place and threaten to push them off,” Jeanne suggests. “There are few motivations more potent than fear.”

Kaveh stops his ranting to stare at her. His cheeks are flushed, eyes hazy and a little unfocused — all symptoms of alcohol overconsumption. Then suddenly, he starts laughing, loudly and almost without abandon. “You’re so funny, you know!” He grins, resting his cheek on an upturned palm as he looks at her. His words are slurring together a little. “As a law enforcer, shouldn’t you know that something like that would be illegal?”

Well, Jeanne is a law enforcer, yes, but she tends to work with… less than legal means. She can’t tell him that, though, so she shakes her head. “Perhaps, you could just covertly hire a few men to beat them up instead? I have the necessary contacts, should you need them.”

The man sitting opposite her coughs. “That’s assault.”

“It’s actually solicitation of assault,” Jeanne corrects him. “Besides, no one will be able to find out that you were the one who hired them as long as you know how to keep things off the record.”

“You know, for a supposed law enforcer, you don’t seem to have a lot of lawful solutions.”

“I apologise for my poor suggestions. I will strive to think of something more practical for you.”

He lets out a snort at that. “Pfft… I’m alright without the hired thugs, thanks…” Kaveh slowly leans forward to put his face down on the table. He seems… tired, for a lack of a better word. Not just the tiredness that comes with insufficient rest, but the bone deep exhaustion of having endured something for too long. “This is quite enough for me. I can’t remember the last time I just ranted to someone like this.”

Jeanne is surprised to hear that. “Not even to my sister?” She thought that the two of them had been close.

“Oh, not because we aren’t friendly or anything.” Kaveh shakes his head against the table top. His cheek is squished as he looks up at Jeanne. “But she has her own troubles sometimes, and I don’t want to make her feel as though she can’t share things with me. A bit hypocritical, I know. Still can’t help it.” He lets out a loud sigh. “I feel kinda guilty, speaking to you too. I don’t want you to think that I’m treating you as an emotional punching bag!”

He’s a funny one. And someone who clearly cares too much about how he affects others, and how others perceive him. As much as he and Al-Haitham fail at getting along harmoniously, she must admit that the Acting Grand Sage is probably the person that truly sees Kaveh as the person that he is.

“I don’t feel that way at all,” Jeanne reassures him, subtly waving the proprietor over to bring the bill. “I’m honoured that you are willing to share with me your troubles, even though we have just met.”

“Well, you make it a little too easy to…” Kaveh grumbles incoherently into his hands. “You… definitely have your own troubles, but you don’t really show it, you know… makes me feel as though I can speak to you without guilt. Ah, but that makes me feel guilty too… I can’t listen to your troubles in return…”

He sounds so suddenly despondent that Jeanne has to shake her head firmly. “As I said, I see it as an honour. There is no debt between us.”

“Hmm…” Kaveh doesn’t seem to be listening anymore, searching the table for something. “Hmm…? Where did my cup go…”

“Here,” Jeanne pushes a cup of plain water in his direction. “Drink up.”

The proprietor glances at Kaveh when he comes over to their table with the bill. “He’s completely smashed again, huh? Not doing so great again.” He gives Jeanne a curious look. “You a new friend of his? Haven’t seen you around these parts.”

“I…” Jeanne pauses for a moment as she drops the required mora into his hand. “I suppose I am.”

“Hmm.” Lambad looks at her again, before he hands her a small glass bottle that fits easily within her palm. Jeanne can smell the pungent odour even without uncorking the bottle. Poison of some sort? Does this man have a grudge against Kaveh? “Hangover cure. Give it to him when he wakes up — he’ll need it.”

So not poison, then. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Lambad waves it off. “Kaveh’s a good kid — helped me remodel some of the seating areas inside the tavern for a discounted price when we were running out of sitting space. Sometimes he helps people out at too high of a cost, and far too little of a benefit to himself. But it’s hard not to like a man like that.”

His words describe what she knows of Kaveh accurately enough. “I agree.”

“Well then, take care of him for me. And get him back home — I’ll need to be closing up shop soon.” Lambad raises a hand and turns around to leave. Jeanne glances back at the man half sprawled out on the table, his styled blonde hair now a mussed mess. But it’s not a bad look on him, Jeanne thinks to herself as she gets to her feet.

She grasps him by the shoulder and shakes him lightly. “Kaveh.” He mumbles under his breath. “Kaveh. We need to go. They’re closing up the tavern.”

“I’m — hng — sleepy.”

“That’s why we need to get you back to your house.”

“Right…” Kaveh slowly pushes himself off the chair, very nearly stumbles over his own feet. Jeanne catches him by the elbow before he can fall over.

“Steady, now. I’ll support you.”

The two of them slowly make their way out of the tavern and along the street, Jeanne with her hand on his elbow to support him. Kaveh squints at her as the two of them walk. “You’re not swaying at all,” he suddenly observes, very loudly. Jeanne nods, keeping her focus on Kaveh’s feet. He looks like he’s about to trip again at any moment.

“I’m not.”

“How’s that possible? You look like you didn’t even have a sip. Did I,” he coughs, shakes his head in confusion, “did I drink both bottles entirely on my own?”

“No. I drank more than half of the amount that we ordered.”

“Oh. So we drank the same amount, then.” Not quite, but Jeanne lets it slide without any argument. “How are you so sober, then? You’re not even,” Kaveh hiccups, squints at her some more, “a little bit drunk.”

“I have a high tolerance.”

“That’s not fair.”

The conversation lasts the two of them all the way back to Al-Haitham’s house. She glances at the windows, but they are shut and no light is coming around the edges. He’s probably asleep already.

She shakes Kaveh, who is now just completely leaning against her to stay upright. “Do you have your keys?”

“My kiss?”

“No, keys.”

“Oh, keys… so that’s what I forgot when I left earlier…” He mumbles a few more incoherent things under his breath, before sagging entirely against her like a sack of potatoes gone limp. Only Jeanne’s lightning fast reflexes allow her to catch him before he can send the both of them crashing to the ground. 

“Kaveh?” She shakes him again, but the man is out like a light. He really is a lightweight… Jeanne glances at the door again, and gives it a hopeful knock. No one comes to open it, unfortunately. Al-Haitham must have worn his noise cancelling headphones to sleep again.

Jeanne looks at Kaveh, tilting her head as she thinks about her next steps. She’s in a bit of a bind now. She could bring Kaveh to one of the inns and get a room for him, but it would be rude and inconvenient to wake up an innkeeper at this time of the night. That only leaves her with one option.

Sighing, Jeanne walks over to Kaveh, bends down and lifts him over her shoulder. He’s as light as she’d guessed, and of no trouble to her. 

“Let us be off, then,” she says aloud to no one, before setting off down the empty street.

>>>

Kaveh wakes up the next morning to sunshine pouring into his room… and directly onto his face. He tries to open his eyes, but feels his retinas drying instantly, and turns away at once. Why is it so bright already? What time did he sleep in until?

Grumbling under his breath — gods, his tongue feels so dry and heavy in his mouth — Kaveh reaches for his bedside table and fumbles for the alarm clock. Not here, not here, not there either? Where is it? 

He sits up in the bed and lets out a loud yawn, running his fingers through messy hair, and cracks open his eyes a smidge. To his confusion, his alarm clock is not on his bedside table. As a matter of fact, that’s not his bedside table at all.

His alertness finally makes a belated return. Kaveh glances to the left — a messy workbench on the table, no miniature cardboard model of the Avidya Forest’s watchtowers. To his right is a simple closet, filled with clothes that he doesn’t recognise. This isn’t his room. This isn’t even his house.

Finally, Kaveh looks down at himself. He’s almost relieved when he sees that he’s still dressed, at least, but then immediately starts to panic when he realises that the shirt he is currently dressed in isn’t his.

So, he does the most logical thing that he can think of — he screams.

A few seconds pass before the door suddenly bursts open with a bang to reveal Jeanne standing in the doorway with a wooden spatula in one hand and a fucking revolver in the other. Kaveh very nearly screams again, this time in terror, but manages to swallow it down. “Where’s the assassin?” she asks bluntly, eyes rapidly scanning over the room.

“What? No, there’s no assassin.” Kaveh cowers back into the covers, staring at the barrel of the gun. “Why is that the first thing that you thought of?”

Jeanne blinks, giving the room one last cursory glance before she holsters the pistol at her belt. She’s dressed in a simple pair of black pants and a simple ruffled blouse — different from the clothes that she’d been wearing yesterday. “It has happened before,” she tells him matter-of-factly, as though she is talking about a morning coffee or a stray cat coming by her door. Kaveh gapes at her in disbelief. “If there is no assassin, what were you screaming about?”

Right, he’d forgotten about that — which isn’t really a surprise, with how much his head is pounding. He feels as though someone is playing whack a mole with his skull. “I, um,  didn’t recognise where I was and panicked for a moment.”

“Oh.” Jeanne gestures at the room that he’s in. “This is my house in Sumeru. I often travel back and forth between the two countries for work matters, which makes it more convenient for me to have my own residence here.”

That does explain where he is, but just… how did he get here in the first place? Kaveh tries to recall the events of the previous night. He’d gotten kicked out of the house by Al-Haitham, and the two of them had gone to Lambad’s Tavern to get drinks and discuss Arabella. The anise wine had run out, Jeanne had called for another drink, and then…

He can’t remember much after that, which can only mean one thing — he’d gotten very, very drunk. There are vague flashes — of seeing Lambad’s face and then staggering up Treasures Street, but aside from that, Kaveh has no recollection as to what had happened.

And he’s wearing a different shirt, one that isn’t his. It isn’t hard to put two and two together, a foregone conclusion. Oh. Oh. Dear Archons, did something happen last night? Did he do something last night?

“Jeanne,” Kaveh says with deliberate slowness, in an attempt to quell the rising panic in his chest. “Did anything happen last night that I’ve forgotten about?”

She’s checking behind the curtains of the room — is she still looking for the ‘assassin’? “Do you not recall what happened last night?” Yes! “We went out for drinks after we met.” 

He remembers that part with perfect clarity. It’s what happened after that he wants to know about. Did he… “No, I’m asking if I did something… inappropriate.”

Jeanne shakes her head at him and Kaveh sags with relief. “You do not need to worry,” she reassures him. “You didn’t get sick on me or my clothes.” The panic comes back immediately. That’s not what he was talking about!

Kaveh gestures at the shirt that he’s wearing, hands flapping like the wings of a mad bird. “No, I was talking about this.”

“Oh… you mean how you got into that shirt. Apologies, I’m a little slow on the uptake.” That’s not what he meant either! “You spilled some of the snake wine on your shirt. My brother, Otho, stays in this room occasionally when he passes through, so I changed you into one of his spare shirts since the two of you are of similar height and build. I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to let you sleep in a stained shirt.”

Archons above… Kaveh feels as though he’s the only one losing his mind over here. Not just that, he sounds insane! Finally, he gathers the courage to take a quick glance beneath the covers and nearly faints with relief when he sees his pants still on. And aside from his raging headache, nothing else feels amiss… So maybe nothing really did happen?

Jeanne looks at him for a moment longer, trying to figure out if she properly answered him, before she gives up and gestures to the low table next to the bed. “There is water and a hangover cure that Lambad told me to give to you. Do you think you can stomach some food?”

It takes Kaveh a moment to process that question. “Oh… yes.”

“That’s good. I’ve made enough breakfast for us both in the kitchen — I hope you like shakshuka. When you’re feeling ready to get up, there is an en-suite bathroom—” she gestures to an inconspicuous door worked into the wall on his right, “and a change of clothes inside which you can use. I also just got your shirt laundered this morning, so you could wear that too, if you’d like.”

This is a bit too much information for Kaveh to take in at once. All he manages is a single, awkward, “why?”

Jeanne just seems a little confused by his question. “Why? Oh, because the laundromat wasn’t open until earlier this morning. It would have been better to bring the shirt as quickly as possible, but fortunately they still managed to remove the stain.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He feels as though he has said that sentence too many times today. “I meant… Why did you do all that for me? We’ve only just met, after all.”

People rarely go out of their way for others unless there is some sort of benefit that they stand to gain from it. Kaveh wonders if Jeanne is expecting something in return for it. There is nothing that he can offer her, he’s sure of it. Which is why he is so hesitant to simply accept her hospitality.

But Jeanne’s answer surprises him. “Is this not the natural thing to do?” she asks, looking even more confused now. “When I brought you back to the house, Al-Haitham was already asleep and you didn’t have your keys on you,” — so that’s what he forgot! — “not to mention that it was already long past midnight. I didn’t want to trouble the innkeepers, so this was the most convenient place to bring you.”

All that sounds logical and all, but Kaveh still can’t imagine that someone would do all that for him. The only other person whose intentions have confused him so thoroughly is Al-Haitham, who until now refuses to tell Kaveh why he let him stay in his house. But unlike his roommate, Jeanne seems genuinely… oblivious to it. As though she really doesn’t have a hidden agenda to her kindness, and this is simply natural for her to do.

Still, this doesn’t make Kaveh feel any more comfortable about receiving her goodwill. He’s adding up the costs for the laundering in his head — it must have been expensive, if she received the clothes back on the same day — when Jeanne holds out a hand. “There is no need to pay me back,” she tells him firmly.

“But—”

“I insist. Consider it a favour, for being friends with my sister and listening to her woes.” Jeanne nods decisively, as if that has concluded the conversation, and moves to leave the room. “I give you some privacy to wash up and get changed. Come out for some breakfast once you’re done.”

The door shuts behind her with a click and Kaveh is left staring at it, a little lost and stupefied. So… nothing is expected of him. She doesn’t expect anything back from him. Huh. It’s an uncomfortable thought, but an unexpectedly… pleasant sort of discomfort. 

So he does what she told him to. Goes into the en-suite bathroom, sees the clean set of clothes laid out for him to wear. He takes a quick shower, splashes his face with cold water to wake himself up. After dressing in the clothes that Jeanne had left out for him, he heads back into the room and downs the hangover cure, chasing it down with water. A wooden cup instead of a glass one, he notices. 

A small detail, but Kaveh is an observant man. Despite being so stoic and difficult to read, Jeanne seems to be a surprisingly warm and considerate person. Another lesson to Kaveh, he supposes, in learning not to judge others by their looks.

He glances about the room. Jeanne had mentioned something about her brother staying there occasionally, and he sees bits and pieces of that. A man’s styling comb, a pair of cufflinks on the table. And for a place that is supposedly so unused, he can see little knick knacks and ornaments that Jeanne has chosen to decorate the space with that give it a cosy, almost homely kind of warmth.

Framed Kamera photos sit on the nightstand, and Kaveh recognises Jeanne in some of them. Most of them appear to be of Jeanne, Arabella and their siblings — another man, who Kaveh presumes to be their brother, Otho, and a younger, seemingly fiery woman. Kaveh doesn’t seem to spot either of her parents. 

Arabella is giving her biggest and brightest smile to the Kamera, but Jeanne is wearing her typical unsmiling, serious expression in all of the photos but one. The last photograph is a little less formal, a bit more candid, where all of Jeanne’s siblings are giving her a hug. From the looks of it, photograph-Jeanne is trying her best to maintain her usual expression, but there’s a distinctly pleased yet embarrassed look on her face.

It’s rather endearing, to be able to see this side of Jeanne. Kaveh finds himself staring at the photos for a while longer, thinking that it must be nice to have such a large family, when he hears Jeanne calling for him from outside.

When he emerges from the room, he sees Jeanna standing outside next to the table, dressed in the Fontainian suit that he’d seen the day before and her hair pinned up neatly underneath her hat. “Here is the shakshuka. I’ve never really cooked this dish for anyone else other than myself, but I hope you like it.” She removes the… clutch?... from an iron skillet to reveal a perfect dish underneath. Four perfectly poached eggs sit inside in a delicious mess of tomatoes and peppers. “I’ll need to be heading off for work soon.”

That’s very early. “It looks great,” Kaveh says as he moves to sit at the table. “Law enforcement?”

“Mm. I have some business with the matra today — now that Al-Haitham has approved the paperwork, I can finally collect the runaway noble and escort him back to Fontaine.”

“That’s great.” Kaveh is a little surprised by how disappointed he is to hear that she’ll be heading back so soon. 

“Al-Haitham was very prompt with the paperwork,” Jeanne nods, before placing a key with a familiar lion keychain on the table in front of him. Is that his… “While collecting the paperwork, I also picked up your key so you may return home whenever you wish. Treasures Street is relatively close, so you’ll be able to walk back easily after breakfast.” She takes a step back and nods. “Then, I hope to see you around soon, Kaveh. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Oh.” Kaveh glances up at Jeanne, surprised. “The shakshuka is a little too big for me to finish on my own… are you not going to eat with me?”

Jeanne pauses with one hand on the doorknob. In truth, she is already running a little late — bringing Kaveh’s keys back here and then cooking the shakshuka had caused her to run quite a bit behind schedule. If it had just been her, she would have just boiled some eggs or bought something from Puspa Cafe on the way to the Akademiya. 

Still, the hopeful look on Kaveh’s face is surprisingly difficult to reject. It’s like trying to convince herself to kick a puppy.

Eventually, she finds herself relenting — surprising even herself — and she takes a seat opposite Kaveh. “I’ll need to eat quickly.”

“That’s alright. Still, you should eat your fill to get ready for the day ahead.” Kaveh scoops out a good portion of the shakshuka and places it onto her plate. “Here you go.”

“Oh, let me get some for you too.”

“It’s alright, I can do it on my own.”

“I insist, really…”

Surprisingly, the conversation over breakfast flows easily — more easily than it did last night, at least. Kaveh asks Jeanne about the photographs that he’d seen in the spare room, and Jeanne had paused between bites to tell him more about her siblings. She had been adopted into the Fontainian noble family de la Roches while still a young girl, and had gotten three new siblings to live with. Arabella, the oldest, followed by Otho and Vivienne. 

Kaveh is already familiar with Arabella, so Jeanne tells him about her other siblings. “Otho is the next head of the de la Roches,” she says. “He’s a bit of a handful at the moment, but I can see why he’s acting out — anyone would with so much pressure placed on their shoulders. As for Vivienne…” Jeanne sighs at the thought of her younger sister. “She’s the fiery sort, but gets into trouble a little too often. Arabella often runs herself worrying over her. Still, she’s got a good heart.”

Kaveh, in return, tells Jeanne some of his anecdotes living with Al-Haitham — some of which make Jeanne crack what seems to be her version of a smile. “I think that I have heard some of these before,” she tells him. Kaveh stops mid-rant, surprised. “The Mahamatra — Cyno — has regaled me with humorous tales of a certain friend living with another acquaintance. He did not mention them by name, but now that I have met you, I am quite sure that he was speaking about you and Al-Haitham.”

The conversation flows smoothly, and it’s not long before the shakshuka has run out. After they put the dishes away, Jeanne picks up her bag once more. “I must really go now,” she says, but she doesn’t look upset, which makes Kaveh feel relieved. “I will not return for a while, so I wanted to tell you this… I’m not sure if it will make you uncomfortable, but you may stay here whenever you like.”

Kaveh stares at Jeanne again, this time even more shocked. To just offer access to your house to someone you’ve just met the night prior… surely things are moving too fast here?

“This house doesn’t see much use otherwise. Besides, my sister trusts you, and after meeting you, I also think that you are a person of solid character.” Jeanne nods as she looks at him. “ I might be emotionally oblivious, but I am adept at discerning the hearts of others.”

“But—”

“This way, you could return the clothes I lent you.”

Kaveh hesitates. “If you say so…”

He follows Jeanne to the door, where she shows him where the key to the front door is hidden — underneath a flower pot with a small, fat ball cactus. “A little obvious, don’t you think?”

Jeanne shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “The key is enchanted with a locking mechanism by an astrologist from Mondstadt. If someone without my approval tries to touch it, it dissolves into water instantly.”

“That’s… wow.” Imagine being able to use such magic and technology for designing parts of buildings! Stairs that could hold their shape but dissolve into water when no one is using them, doors that could turn to water instead of having to physically open them. “I’ll have to visit Mondstadt some day…”

Jeanne looks at him. “Then, I’ll be going now.” And just as she did the first time she had introduced herself to him, she takes his hand and presses a light kiss to the back of it. “I’ll see you around, Kaveh.”

And Kaveh’s heart still skips a beat, unsurprisingly. While the feelings that had spiked through him previously had been more of awkwardness and shock, now there is something… a little more shy and flustered in its place. Now that is something that takes him by surprise.

You’ve just met her, Kaveh scolds himself, horrified. Don’t be so easy, Kaveh!

But that doesn’t stop his cheeks from heating when her eyes meet his. Her eyes really are like aquamarine stones, clear and polished with honesty. “I hope we meet again soon, Jeanne.”

“We definitely will.” With that, Jeanne releases his hand and turns around. Kaveh watches as she disappears down the street and off into one of the many tunnels among the roots of the Divine Tree. Only when she has completely vanished from sight does Kaveh turn around and go back into the house.

>>>

Kaveh returns the next day with the clothes that Jeanne had loaned him, clean and laundered, but is disappointed to see that she has truly left. When he sets the clothes down, however, he sees something on the table that wasn’t there yesterday — a jar of snake wine with a handwritten  note pinned underneath it.

Headed back to Fontaine. Enjoy, but in moderation, of course — Jeanne de la Roche

Despite himself, Kaveh finds himself smiling. The next time she visits Sumeru, he’ll make sure that he has something to share with her in return as well.

#genshin #genshin oc #commission #kaveh

[wisteriashouse]

the other side of the mirror

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: royalty au; romance; commission

word count: 17320

a/n: this fic ran me over like a truck @hinokami-s

The leaves outside her window have begun to change in colour.

Their gradual transformation provides Hayami with at least some indication of the passage of time. As usual, after every poisoning attempt, she had been treated by the esteemed Lady Kochou — the younger of the Butterfly sisters, Shinobu, who happens to also be one of the foremost physicians in the land.

According to her, Hayami had been unconscious for over a week, and will require constant rest for at least another week or so. In that time, autumn must have come to visit the Sumihana Empire.

Hayami thinks that it is a great pity. While she adores the beautiful shades of spring and the delicate scent of the blossoming flowers, there is something fascinating about the way the trees deepen in the flaming colours of crimson and sunset, before they curl up and fall to the ground. She remembers playing in the dry, crunchy leaves in the privacy of her own estate’s gardens, until Hirata had taken notice of the dried foliage at the hems of her skirts.

Immediately after that, her mother had instructed the palace gardeners to sweep the gardens thoroughly every day during fall. The gardens had been left empty aside from the clinically pruned flower bushes and the manicured grass. Still, Hayami remembers those comparatively carefree days of throwing leaves into the air with great fondness.

Things are much different for her now, however. More complicated, far more of a hassle to deal with, with much more severe consequences. Yet, there are still things to look forward to. Like this one, for example.

There is a quiet knock at the door to her chambers. One of her ladies in waiting — on her mother’s payroll, she’s sure — pushes the door open a crack to announce someone’s presence. “Your Highness. Sir Tanjirou is requesting to enter your bedchambers.”

She had lost her temper not more than a week before, when Hayami had disallowed her to turn Tanjirou away. How can a boy of peasant pedigree be allowed to see the princess in her most unkempt state? It is more shameful, she had said.

He is of the Flameheart Archduchy, whose status far surpasses that of your own, Hayami had snapped back fiercely. The maid had gone so purple in the face that Hayami had almost pulled out the enchanted dagger concealed in her skirts for self defense. Luckily for her — or the maid, she supposes — had managed to calm herself, and eventually left the room, fuming.

Today, she lets Tanjirou in without much ruckus, evidently having given up on controlling this tiny corner of Hayami’s life. It isn’t much, but Hayami is grateful for the small freedoms that she’s able clinch. Each feels like a victory on the battlefront that she shares with her mother.

“Just a moment,” she calls. She takes a moment to sit up properly, fluffing up the pillows behind her so that she can lean against them. The blankets, too, are a little messy, and she straightens them at the corners. Hmm.

After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches for the mirror by her bedside table. Her skin is a little dull, having not been under the sun for an extended period of time, and her hair is in a mess from laying on the pillows. Hurriedly, Hayami grabs her brush and runs it through her hair a few times before setting both back down. “Let him in, Rin.”

The tall, beech doors swing open to reveal Tanjirou and one of her maids, Rin Sunada, standing behind them. Upon seeing her face, Tanjirou lights up with a warmth that Hayami would be hard-pressed to find anywhere else in this godforsaken palace. Once again, she thanks her lucky stars above for allowing Kyoujurou to find him when he did.

“My Lady.” Rin looks as though she has just swallowed a lemon whole, but Hayami pays it no mind. It is hard to dampen her spirits when the personification of sunshine is in the same room as her. “Shall I prepare some tea for the two of you?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

With one more poorly hidden glare at Tanjirou, Rin sweeps out of Hayami’s bedchambers. The sound of the doors swinging shut echo behind the two of them. Tanjirou glances behind him for a second before he finally lets out a sigh, shoulders relaxing when he is sure that she is gone.

“I can tell that she still doesn’t like me,” he says ruefully as he steps over to Hayami’s bedside, pulling off his coat to hang it over one arm. “She was glaring at me the entire time we were walking from the front entrance to your door. I thought that today would be the day that she might finally try to get rid of me.” He stops before her, and holds out a single maple leaf between gloved fingers. “My Lady.”

Hayami takes it from him, running a fingertip along the leaf’s edge. It is dry and brittle, and cracks slightly when she touches it, miniature spiderweb fractures appearing across its surface. Its colour is as vibrant and rich as the embers of a dying fire. She thinks she recognises where it is from. “It is quite beautiful. This is not from one of the maples of the palace, is it?”

“I brought it here from the Rengoku Estate,” Tanjirou explains, smiling down at her. “Older Brother Kyoujurou told me that the maples of the Flameheart Duchy are the most beautiful in the Sumihana Empire once autumn rolls around.”

“They are. Even my mother, with all the best gardeners in the Empire, has been unable to replicate their striking ruby colours. She was quite upset about that.” Hayami laughs at the thought and sets the leaf to the side, before smiling at Tanjirou. “Thank you, Sir Tanjirou.”

He looks much better now compared to when Hayami had first woken up, still woozy and body aching from the poison her mother had used. He had still looked as charming as ever, of course, but she didn’t like the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the tense line of his mouth.

Tanjirou looks the best when he is smiling, Hayami believes wholeheartedly, and it is a waste of such a handsome face to frown.

“Is there anything you’d like to do today, My Lady?” Tanjirou asks as he busies himself arranging the things on her table. Hayami contemplates this for a moment, before she nods, eyes brightening. “I’d like to take a stroll through the gardens.”

Her handsome knight puts down the brush in his hands to look at Hayami. “You know we cannot, My Lady,” Tanjirou says, an apologetic tone to his words. “Lady Kochou said that she would flay me alive if she caught you out of bed while you were still recuperating. Forgive me, but I am rather intimidated by her.”

Hayami hides her laughter behind her palm, but she can imagine the younger Kochou sister lecturing Tanjirou — a funny thought considering the fact that Kochou Shinobu is about half a head shorter than the knight standing before her. “Lady Shinobu does have a tongue sharper than any blade.” She lets out a sigh, looking out of the window once more wistfully. “Then, I suppose we cannot defy the doctor’s orders.”

Perhaps it is for the best that she stays inside her room, regardless. While she might feel relatively alright — her body is already getting used to this new dosage of poison, breaking it down and clearing it from her system more efficiently — the people do not know that the sole princess of the Empire is already resistant to most deadly poisons and toxins. Her mother will not be pleased if the people start to suspect that Princess Sumiyuri Hayami is not as frail as she appears to be.

Tanjirou must catch the expression on her face, because he quickly suggests an alternative plan. “How about I read to you instead?” he offers, and Hayami brightens up at once at the suggestion, all thoughts of secrecy and poisons forgotten. Tanjirou’s voice is nice and mellow. Not quite deep, but carries with it a warmth that feels like the morning sun, or a summer shower on a warm evening.

“Would you like to?”

A laugh escapes him, as if her question carries with it some sort of humour that is not made privy to her. Still, it doesn’t sound malicious. “Of course, My Lady.” He picks up one of the books sitting on her bedside table — an old volume of fairy tales that Hayami has kept since her childhood. “Shall I?”

She smiles, settling herself back into the pillows and making herself comfortable. “If you please, Sir Tanjirou.”

Her knight takes a few moments to flip through the book, before finally settling on a story that Hayami already knows by heart.

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess…”

Tanjirou reads to her a story of a beautiful princess who ran away from home when her parents tried to marry her off. When she had escaped into the forest, she had stumbled upon a ruined castle — which later turned out to be the lair of a dragon feared throughout the land.

In the flight and chase that had ensued, the princess had ended up spraining her ankle. The dragon had discovered her, and placed her in an iron cage to have someone to speak with. After a while, the prince had heard of the captured princess and decided to ride out to rescue her.

“Sometimes,” Hayami thinks aloud absentmindedly, “I think I’m more like the dragon than the princess.”

Tanjirou looks at her as he flips the page. He seems surprised by what she’s just said. “Why do you say so, Princess?”

It must be strange to hear that a princess identifies more with the ‘villain’ of the story than the actual princess. “Well, I think that the dragon is simply misunderstood.” Hayami has never had anyone to discuss this story with, so she feels a little shy sharing her thoughts. “But in the story, the dragon didn’t hurt the princess after putting her in the cage. Not that I agree with kidnapping or putting people in cages against their will, but…” she shrugs after a moment, unsure just how to convey her thoughts. “I feel like the dragon was just lonely because everyone was so afraid of it, and that’s rather sad to think about.”

Hayami half expects Tanjirou to laugh good-naturedly and tell her that she’s thinking too much into it, but instead he takes a moment to consider her words. “That is true,” he says thoughtfully. “The dragon has been isolated all its life because of the rumours surrounding it. I suppose it would be very lonely.”

“Right?” Hayami almost trips over her own words with how quickly she attempts to reply. “I really dislike how the dragon is just seen as a villain in the end and ends up being slain by the prince. It feels like they simply skipped over all the potential character development there. I was so annoyed with the ending that I didn’t touch it for months.”

Tanjirou laughs a little at that. “It seems that you’re quite attached to this dragon, My Lady—”

“Her Most Royal Majesty is here to see Her Highness the Princess, Sumiyuri Hayami!”

Before Hayami can say another word, the doors burst open and the Empress sweeps into the room with her long skirts and billowing fabrics. Her maid, Rin, trails behind her mother, a smug look on her face that Hayami feels the urge to smack off. So this is why Rin had been so lax with Tanjirou entering her room today.

The standard procedure of any estate servant should be to first report a visitor to their master before escorting said visitor into the estate. But when that visitor is the Empress of the Empire, Hayami supposes that things must be different.

Tanjirou, bless his quick reflexes, has set the book behind the lamp on her bedside table — conveniently out of sight of her mother. He bows his head low, but the Empress does not spare him a glance.

Instead, those piercing eyes are set on her. Hayami can feel her mother’s gaze scraping every inch of her complexion, her pallor, looking for signs of weaknesses. She knows the drill by now. Back straight, head high, but head always slightly lowered — the only thing that her mother hates more than weakness is insubordination.

After what feels like an eternity, her mother finally speaks.

“Princess.” Always addressing her by her title, never by her name and most certainly never as ‘daughter’. That would be too intimate of the Empress. She’s forgone the last crown that she had fashioned for another already, this one inlaid with blood red garnets and rubies. Aside from all that, however, there is a certain pressure that she exerts just by stepping into a room.

It’s not like the same pulsating heat that Kyoujurou radiates, nor the gentle warmth that emanates from Tanjirou. Both she and her mother’s magic share the same root nature, water, but her mother’s powers are more… viscous, the aura that flows from them acidic and corrosive. Feeling it always made Hayami feel sick when she was younger.

“You look terrible,” her mother continues.

Apologies, you poisoned me with a toxin only found in the Dark Continent not more than a week ago. Hayami bites back the answer that she truly wants to give. “Well, I’ve certainly looked better,” she says with a mild smile.

“Don’t be rude to Her Majesty, Princess,” Rin snaps from over her mother’s shoulder. Her words make Tanjirou frown and start to straighten up a bit, but Hayami shakes her head before he can say a word. Speaking out will only paint a target on his back in her mother’s eyes, and Hayami has no wish for that to happen.

“You are to address me as My Lady or Your Highness,” Hayami retorts coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Only the Emperor and Empress are allowed to speak to me as ‘Princess’.”

Hayami watches as her mother’s eyes darken at the realisation, before she tilts her head to fix Rin with a pointed stare. Her head maid takes half a step back, her face suddenly pale. It seems that even the servants on her mother’s payroll are not exempt from her wrath.

“I’ll speak to you about this afterwards,” her mother directs at the maid before turning her attention back to her. “As for you… recover faster. There is a ball happening in a couple of days and you are to attend with me.”

Hayami is unable to stop her eyes from widening minutely — she has heard of no such plans until now. “What- A ball?”

“Yes, and you must make sure to dress yourself in that new dress sent from the Tamayo estate. That witch is starting to act slippery once more, and I won’t have her selling her potioneering secrets to another country so easily.” Empress Kuraihi clicks her tongue and folds her arms across her chest. There is a calculating look in her eye. “And you must make sure that you are on your best behaviour. Smile and entertain the guests properly, especially the heirs of the other noble families. It’s the least you could do since you were born a daughter and not a son.”

That line has been used on Hayami so many times since she was a child, to the point that it no longer has any effect on her at all. “I will do my best to meet your expectations, of course.”

“You will do more than your best if that is what you require to meet my expectations,” Kuraihi corrects her sharply, and Hayami resists a sigh. Of course, that’s what her mother would say. “And it will not be just you attending. Hayato, too, will be expected to be at this ball.”

Now that gets Hayami’s attention, and not in a good way. She sits up in alarm on her bed, feeling as though the rug has just been pulled out from under her feet. “Hayato?”

“Did the poison render you deaf as well as dumb?” The Empress snaps back at her, annoyance starting to flicker over her beautifully cold features. It is like looking in a mirror, and Hayami does not like it one bit. “Some of the nobles have been gossiping, spreading rumours about how I was the one who arranged for you to be poisoned… absolutely ridiculous.”

She sniffs in irritation and Hayami, bizarrely, has to fight the urge to laugh instead. Rumours, she calls them…

Hayami is feeling better, of course, but to force her to undergo the transfiguration ritual when she has just been poisoned not too long ago… truly, her mother is something else.

“Well—”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty.” Hayami turns to look at Tanjirou, surprised. His words and expressions are polite, but there is an obstinate moue to his mouth. “My Lady has only just begun to recover from the poisoning attempt a few days ago and the culprit has not yet been found. Surely it would not be in the best interests for Her Highness to attend another ball so soon?”

Empress Kuraihi’s eyes narrow as she looks at Tanjirou — as though it’s the first time that she’s noticed him in the room with them. It doesn’t surprise Hayami. Most servants are nothing more than decorative pieces of furniture in her eyes. “You are…”

“I am Her Highness’ personal guard, Rengoku Tanjirou, Your Majesty,” Tanjirou introduces himself, inclining his head to the Empress. “It is my honour to meet you personally.”

“Rengoku…” Hayami sees the way that her mother’s lips pull back in a subtle sneer. Her mother has never been fond of the Flameheart Duchy or any of their members. Born with innate flame magic that every generation, the scions of the Rengoku family have gone on to attain the positions of generals and commanders in the Empire’s military — Kyoujurou is the latest addition to their ranks.

Because of this, the Rengoku family have maintained their noble status ever since the days of the Empire’s founding. That is not something that even the Sumiyuri family can claim to possess. A frustrating yet inevitable thorn in her mother’s side.

That’s one of the reasons that Hayami likes them so much.

“Well then. Sir Tanjirou,” she dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “Wait outside while I speak to my daughter. Certain things must be said in private.”

Tanjirou frowns. “Your Majesty—” But Empress Kuraihi merely raises one manicured hand to stop him, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I didn’t hear a ‘Yes, Your Majesty’.”

He glances at her first, as if asking whether she’s really alright with this. And, to be honest, Hayami is — she’s more than used to this sort of behaviour with her mother, and there has never really been much of an option for her to be anything but fine. So, she nods with a reassuring smile on her face.

I’ll be alright.

Tanjirou does not seem very convinced, but he nods anyway and bows before making his way out of the Hayami’s bedchambers. Rin goes to close the doors behind him, but her mother instructs her to leave the room as well.

“But, Your Majesty—” Rin begins to protest, and Kuraihi gives her a menacing glare. Hayami wonders absentmindedly if she’ll find Rin’s body floating in a palace well somewhere in a few days.

The doors are closed, and now, it is only the two of them left inside Hayami’s bedchambers. Her mother glances briefly over her shoulder before snapping her fingers. A chilling atmosphere spreads out from where she is standing, filling the entire room with her magic.

She recognises it — a silencing spell, to prevent those outside from hearing in. It clings to the walls, the door, every surface of the room like a sticky web. Hayami might not like it, but it is an undeniable fact that the Empress of the Sumihana Empire is a powerful mage as well.

So, what is it that she feels the need to say to Hayami in private?

“As I said earlier, Hayato will be accompanying me to the ball.” Her mother doesn’t even bother looking at her as she says that.

>>>

He’s not quite sure how to feel about the Empress. On one hand, she is a member of the Royal Family and Princess Hayami’s mother — as someone who lives within the relative safety of the Empire’s borders, Tanjirou owes her some degree of allegiance. Yet, after seeing how harshly she had spoken to Princess Hayami, with such a cold, detached countenance… Tanjirou finds it difficult to show her too much respect now.

How can a mother speak to her own daughter that way? To not even show an ounce of concern for Princess Hayami, even though she had just recovered from a debilitating poison? And worst of all, to tell her that attending the ball was the least she could do since she was ‘born a daughter and not a son’?

If his own mother or even Nezuko had heard that, Tanjirou would have had to drag the two of them away from her, Empress be damned.

“You are the Princess’ personal escort and knight, hm?” Tanjirou has to resist the urge to shiver as the Empress’ cold eyes scan him from his head down to his shoes. “Your hair… you look nothing like the Archduke.”

The Empress’ gaze is difficult to meet and impossible to look away from. Her eyes almost feel hypnotising, as though she’s slowly peeling back every layer of him to reach something deep within his psyche…

The thought is enough to send alarm bells ringing all throughout Tanjirou’s head. Older Brother Kyoujurou had cautioned him about the commonly used types of magic before — and this is one of them. A sort of mental probe, slowly wriggling its way into his skull without his notice. A spider silently weaving a web within the confines of his mind.

Manipulation magic.

A surge of panic rushes through him the second he realises what it is, and instinctively raging flames pour out of him in a defensive rush. Fire races along the silken threads in his mind, burning them to ashes.

When he looks at Empress Kuraihi once more, her expression is no different — no indication that anything has just transpired. “Well, I asked you a question.”

She sounds displeased.

“Ah, apologies, Your Majesty.” He bows his head, heart still thudding in his chest. What was that? Did something actually happen, or had that all happened in his head? “I am not descended from the Rengoku bloodline. Archduke Rengoku was kind enough to adopt me and my sister into the family registry.”

“Hm. So just an adopted son…” For some reason, she looks slightly more interested in him now. That sudden shift makes Tanjirou feel more wary, but whatever the Empress wants with him is not his primary concern at the moment. He’s more worried about his lady in the room next door.

“If there isn’t anything else, may I please return to my lady’s side?”

The Empress raises an eyebrow at his words, before an amused scoff leaves her lips. “You’re like a dog, pawing at its owner’s door,” she comments, before turning on her heel, her long skirts swishing behind her. Tanjirou keeps his mouth resolutely shut. “Well, go ahead. I’ve wasted too much time here, anyway.”

With that, she walks off down the corridor, Rin rushing after the Empress to attend to her. As soon as the pair turn a corner, Tanjirou makes his way back to the princess’ bedroom.

“My Lady, are you alright?” The princess glances up as he practically bursts through the doors. To his surprise, she looks perfectly poised sitting in her bed, and in fact looks more shocked by the vigour with which he’d entered her chambers. “Oh! I apologise, I just… uh…”

Worried? Concerned? It was the Empress of the Empire who was just inside the room, and saying any of that would simply make him sound ridiculous.

Fortunately for him, his master seems to understand. “It’s alright,” she gestures for him to return to her side, and he obeys. “I am alright. My mother has always been the cold sort — I’m used to the way that she speaks to me.”

Tanjirou bites back his retort. There’s a quiet placidness as she says those words, as though this sort of treatment from the Empress is normal. She shouldn’t have grown used to this sort of behaviour, especially not from her own mother.

Before his mother had passed, she had been strong and loving beyond measure — there had not been a single woman in the world who could surpass her in Tanjirou’s eyes. She’d been a pillar of support for her children, a loving embrace, a warm and kind smile… all those were things that he’d cherished all the more after she had passed.

And to think that the princess’ own mother treats her this way…

But she is still the Empress of this Empire, and Tanjirou is nothing but a commoner adopted into nobility, so he forces his tongue to be still. Instead, he puts on a smile for his lady.

“I understand.” He bows his head and gestures at the book still sitting on her bedside table. “Then, shall we continue where we left off, My Lady?”

Princess Hayami’s eyes brighten the moment he says those words. “If you wouldn’t mind, Sir Tanjirou.”

“Of course I don’t,” Tanjirou picks up the book and opens it once more, smiling. “And so the dragon continued to speak with the princess every day, and…”

If he can make her smile, then he will be content with that.

>>>

The evening of the ball rolls around before long.

As the personal guard of the princess, it is Tanjirou’s responsibility to fetch her from her palace and escort her to the ballroom at the main palace. And so, Tanjirou too has to dress up in a suit — the same one that the princess had made for him, before the whole poisoning incident — and is now adjusting his cravat nervously as he makes his way to the Violet Lily Palace.

He hadn’t gotten to wear this suit since its fitting, but it fits well on him and hangs from his shoulders in just the right way. The skills of the royal tailors are definitely second to none, he thinks. As expected, only royalty and nobility are able to have access to the finest workmanship.

He wonders if he’ll ever manage to get Nezuko a tailored dress as well.

As much as he has been anticipating his first ball at the Royal Palace, Tanjirou can’t help but feel that his master should not be attending. Yes, he has been taking short walks with her around the gardens of her palace to recover her stamina, and the princess seems to be a lot less frail than she was a few days ago, but there still remains the matter of the uncaught culprit.

Tanjirou would much prefer that the person who had attempted to poison his master be caught first, but no one can go against the orders of the Empress. He’ll simply have to make sure that he keeps his eyes and ears peeled tonight.

It’s the least that he can do to make sure that the princess enjoys herself, for tonight at least.

He comes to a stop outside the Violet Lily Palace at last. He’s made sure to arrive just on time, a small bouquet of lilac lilies in his hand. He’d heard her mention before that lilies of the valley are her favourite flower.

Tanjirou hopes that she likes them.

The princess had said that she would wait for him inside her sitting room, so all he needs to do is to let her maid know that he has arrived.

Head maid Rin Sunada does not look too pleased to see him — but then again she has never looked pleased to see him before. She gives him a dark look as he steps into the main foyer of the palace. “You.”

That is a rather rude greeting, but Tanjirou decides to overlook it in light of the ball tonight. “I am here to escort the princess to the ball at the main palace. Is she ready to go?”

Her expression looks as though she’s tempted to kick him out through the doors, but fortunately for him, she manages to keep a rein on her emotions. “I’ll go fetch her.”

The maid returns a few seconds later, and following behind her is… a vision to behold.

Tanjirou has seen that dress before. He’d been there when the princess was getting it tailored and fitted, and while the princess had looked beautiful then, she looks absolutely stunning now. Her platinum hair, usually in a long, straight ponytail, has been pulled up into an elaborate updo decorated with jewelled flowers, and frames her features nicely. Multiple strings of pearls rest around her delicate neck.

“My Lady,” he breathes, stepping forward to take her hand. His lady smiles and gently places her hand in his, allowing Tanjirou to lead her down the remainder of the stairs. “You, uhm, look beautiful tonight.”

An understatement, but Tanjirou hopes that the princess understands what he means. He holds out the small bouquet in his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to see you, Sir Tanjirou,” she nods at him as she takes the flowers. Strangely, however, she does not take more than a single, perfunctory glance at them. “Shall we head to the ball now?”

Tanjirou feels strangely… disappointed. He’d expected, well, a little bit of a happier reaction. A smile, perhaps. Or a comment, at least. Did he hear wrongly? “Do you… not like the flowers, My Lady?” he asks carefully.

The princess looks at him, tilting her head to the side gracefully. “No, I love the flowers, Sir Tanjirou.” She smiles at him. “Is something wrong?”

Tanjirou shakes his head slowly — perhaps he just expected too much of her. It is not her obligation to respond the way he desires her to. “Of course not, My Lady.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” she nods, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Then, shall we be off?”

“Yes, My Lady.”

The two of them walk through the Violet Lily Palace, over to the ballroom where the ball for tonight is taking place. Every time Tanjirou begins a conversation, it dies out quickly — which strikes him as strange, since his lady has always seemed to enjoy conversing with him. By the time that they reach the Main Palace, Tanjirou is starting to get worried.

“Your Highness,” Tanjirou tries one more time as they stand outside the ballroom. “Are you sure that you are alright?”

And she smiles at him with that same smile again, patient and understanding and… far too mild. Is she still feeling unwell?

“Of course I am sure,” she tells him patiently. “Let us go in and attend the ball.”

He sighs. If his master insists, then Tanjirou must listen and obey her, regardless. “As you say, My Lady. Then, let me escort you inside.”

Her hand still resting in the crook of his elbow, the two of them ascend the steps to the Diamond Ballroom. When they reach the top of the steps, Tanjirou feels as though his breath has been stolen from his lungs.

It is as though the vast wealth and splendour of the Empire has been put on full display for all the attendees to see. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ballroom ceiling, lighting the entire hall up with a golden glow, and Tanjirou can hear the music of a live orchestra playing for the entertainment of the guests. The gardens have hangings of crimson velvet and purple linen, fastened to the pillars and marble sculptures.

Never in his life has Tanjirou seen such opulence.

The two of them enter the ballroom together, and Tanjirou looks down to see velvet under his feet. It is a fabric so expensive that Nezuko had managed to afford only a small amount for her dress, but the Empress has covered the whole floor of the ballroom with it. While it does not come as a surprise that the royal family can afford such luxuries, surely this wealth can be spent on more practical things instead?

He turns to the princess to ask her about it, but catches his lady staring off into the distance absentmindedly. At first, Tanjirou thinks that she might have spotted someone that she knows, but after a while, it becomes clear that her gaze is not fixed on anything or anyone in particular.

Frowning, Tanjirou leans in closer to the princess. “My Lady,” he says, more urgently this time. “My Lady, if you are feeling unwell, I can always escort you back to your room.”

“I am feeling fine, Sir Tanjirou.” She smiles at him once more. “Is there any trouble—”

“Hey.”

Tanjirou doesn’t realise that there is someone approaching the two of them until the person speaks up. He whirls around to look at the newcomer, taken by surprise. Concealment magic? No, Tanjirou can pick up their presence and magical signature just fine. It’s just that…

“My Lady?” He blurts out, utterly confused for a moment. Standing there is his lady — or at least, someone who looks nigh identical to his lady. They have the same lilac eyes, the same alabaster skin, and the same striking platinum blonde hair. Except, the person before him is dressed in a double breasted suit the colour of the midnight sky, with polished silver buttons and a silk ascot. Their manner of dress strongly resembles that of a military officer. “Uhm, I…”

The person stares at him for a moment, before they flick their long blonde ponytail back over their shoulder, lilac eyes piercing. “My name is Sumiyuri Hayato, Crown Prince of this Empire.” His words are short and blunt, lacking the melodic lilt of his lady’s voice. “My sister is over there. Surely, as her guard, you should be more alert?”

Tanjirou flushes, bowing his head. “My apologies for not recognising you sooner, Your Highness.” Of course — how could he possibly have forgotten that the princess had a twin brother? Now that he can see the two of them standing side by side, he can see the slight differences in their features. His lady has softer, more delicate features, while the Crown Prince’s eyes and jawline are sharp as blades. And the princess has a small beauty mark by her lips, while the crown prince has one under his eye.

Right, they are twins — it would make sense for them to have identical magical signatures. Perhaps Tanjirou found it so hard to recognise him because his lady rarely mentions him. Every time he is brought up in conversation, she steers it towards a different topic. And the entire time she had been unconscious, the Crown Prince had not come to visit her once.

Tanjirou does not know too much about the relationship between the two siblings, but he knows that if Nezuko ever had a near-death encounter, he would cross hell and high water to be by her side.

Even now, the Crown Prince makes no mention of the poisoning attempt on the Princess’ life. It is as though he really has no care for his sister at all.

The three of them stand there in silence for a while, awkwardness and tension hanging thick in the air between them. The princess does not say a word either, just smiling between the two of them as though nothing is wrong. Tanjirou is starting to get more and more concerned.

They remain that way until the orchestra suddenly strikes up a brighter, more lively tune. Tanjirou turns to Princess Hayami, intending on inviting her for a dance — she had promised him one, after all — but the Crown Prince suddenly steps between the two of them.

“Dance with me,” he tells — no, more like demands — the princess. Tanjirou stares at the Crown Prince in disbelief. How can his lady be so elegant and well-mannered when her brother is… like this?

No wonder the princess does not like to mention her brother. If his parents had heard any of his siblings speak that way to each other, they would have received an earful from both of them.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” Tanjirou cuts in before the Crown Prince can pull Princess Hayami onto the dance floor. “But Her Highness just recovered from a poisoning attempt, in case you weren’t made aware of it. I believe that it would be better for her to refrain from being on her feet for too long.”

The Crown Prince stares at his sister as though he had never considered such a thing before. The Princess, on the other hand, simply stands there and smiles at the two of them. “I am alright with anything,” she tells them both, far too agreeable for Tanjirou’s liking.

“See? She says she’s fine,” the Crown Prince reiterates, more sharply now. He tugs on his sister’s with a roughness that makes Tanjirou’s blood start boiling. “Come on, let’s go.”

Before Tanjirou can say another word, he’s already dragging the Princess towards the dance floor. Tanjirou stares after the two of them in something approaching disbelief. On the dance floor, the Crown Prince leans in to speak a few words into the Princess’ ear, before the two of them start dancing to the music.

He flags down a passing waiter and plucks a flute of champagne from the serving tray. The hum of cello strings and light whistling of the flutes fill his ears. While Tanjirou has never acquired a taste for alcohol, Older Brother Kyoujurou had taught him strategies to survive in the high society balls thrown at the Flameheart Duchy.

One method is to always have a drink in one’s hand, so that you can turn down dances without seeming impolite. Tanjirou decides that he has no intention of letting his eyes leave the Princess tonight, just in case something happens.

Drink in hand, he watches the sibling pair dance. Their movements are beautiful and elegant, as though they are a pair of leaves swirling through the wind together. The Princess looks especially beautiful, the lilac tulles of her skirt flaring out like the petals of a blooming flower with every spin she makes.

Still, she’s wearing that same, well-mannered smile on her face. Tanjirou has made her laugh before — truly laugh, inelegant noises escaping her mouth and her eyes scrunched up with teary amusement. And now… it doesn’t quite look like she’s really enjoying herself.

The Crown Prince, too, moves with beautifully practiced steps — it’s obvious that he could do this dance in his sleep. Still, the expression he’s wearing makes Tanjirou feel as though the Crown Prince wishes that he were anywhere else other than here.

Tanjirou takes a slow sip of his champagne, the light, airy bubbles fluttering over his tongue as he swallows.

This is the man who will one day become the Emperor of the Sumihana Empire. The man whom he is supposed to protect with his life and ride into battle side by side with. For the first time since coming to the palace, Tanjirou is not quite sure if he can do it.

Tanjirou continues to watch — and fortunately, no assassins come dropping from the ceiling to attack the royal heirs. The music swells one final time, a grand crescendo, before the song comes to a dramatic, flourishing end.

Relieved, Tanjirou sets his champagne glass down before finally starting to make his way over to his lady. He should make her sit for a few minutes, ask if her feet are alright or if she’s still feeling well, and then, maybe then, he will consider asking her for a dance.

A few steps away from him, the Crown Prince leans down to whisper into his sister’s ear. Frowning, Tanjirou quickly channels magic to his ears, sharpening his hearing senses beyond any human capability.

“... and go back to the room. Do not emerge for the rest of the night.”

What? Tanjirou can’t help the shock at what he has just heard. How can the Crown Prince just order his sister to return to her chambers like that, as though she is still a misbehaving child? The Princess has barely done anything at the ball!

Before Tanjirou can confront him, the Crown Prince raises a hand and everyone falls silent almost immediately. The magnitude of his influence, for someone who barely seems to be present in the palace at all, is staggering. “I thank everyone for coming to attend this ball.” The nobles nod among themselves, clearly waiting for him too confused. “Unfortunately, my sister, Princess Hayami, is feeling unwell and will first retire to her chambers for the night.”

As if on cue, the Princess raises a hand to her lips and coughs delicately. Some of the nobles make sympathetic noises, but other than that, no one else makes any noise when the Princess is escorted off the dance floor by some maids and ushered towards the doors. As she walks away, she still wears that patient, placid smile on her face.

Tanjirou starts to move towards her, intent on escorting her back to her palace himself, but suddenly finds a wall of navy blue blocking his way.

The Crown Prince stands between him and the exit. “You cannot leave the ball now,” he says, and Tanjirou feels a slight twinge of annoyance rising up in him. If his lady is indeed feeling ill enough to have to retire prematurely to her rooms, then Tanjirou will not be able to rest easy until he knows that she has been properly cared for.

“I am Her Highness’ personal guard,” he tries to argue, but the Crown Prince puts one firm hand on his shoulder. Although he appears to have a deceptively light build at first glance, the strength in that simple grip alone warns Tanjirou what will happen if he steps out of line.

“And the Empress has something to announce at this banquet that you are to hear,” he retorts. Tanjirou’s jaw clenches, but he forces himself to calm down. If what the Crown Prince says is right, then he must remain at the ball — he cannot disobey orders from the Empress. Besides, he would be causing his lady more trouble if he were to make a scene with the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince must see the look on his face, because he finally lets out a deep sigh. His face softens slightly — softens? — before he squeezes Tanjirou’s shoulder in what is presumably an action meant to reassure.

“She— Hayami will be fine,” he mutters. “She is stronger than you think.”

This hot-and-cold behaviour from the Crown Prince is really starting to confuse Tanjirou, but before he can sort things out properly, the royal herald is shouting something from the upper box.

“Her Majesty the Empress has arrived!”

The nobles fall silent once more, even more quiet now. The orchestra too, stops playing, raising their heads as well to look up.

Empress Kuraihi appears at the balustrade, dressed in a dress of crushed red velvet with gold embroidery and inlaid with garnets. A crown of solid gold rests on her head, the diamonds lining the base twinkling in the dim light.

Tanjirou follows the nobles around him, bowing low at the Empress’ entrance. As usual, her countenance is cold — regal, he supposes. The Empress takes a moment to gaze over the ballroom, and Tanjirou feels a twinge of uneasiness run through him. He still remembers the feeling of her magic clinging to his mind like tar.

“Thank you for coming to tonight’s ball. I hope that everyone is fully enjoying the luxuries that this kingdom can offer,” The Empress raises the glass in her hand, smiling. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “I will allow this night of enjoyment to proceed quickly. However, I have an important announcement to make first.”

Tanjirou’s eyes narrow. So the Crown Prince had been right. What exactly is this announcement that Tanjirou needs to be there for?

The Empress continues to speak, her voice clearly ringing out around the entirety of the massive ballroom — definitely magic. “The purpose of tonight’s ball is to send off the Empire’s valiant troops. As usual, they will be led by His Highness the Crown Prince, to subjugate the Demon Moon invaders at the borders.”

For a moment, so brief that Tanjirou thinks he might have seen it wrongly, a flash of displeasure crosses the Crown Prince’s face. Despite the praises that the Empress has just lauded on him, praises that she would not muster for the Princess, he doesn’t seem moved by them in the least.

Instead, the Crown Prince simply takes a bow. “It is my honour to keep our lands safe.”

The nobles burst into applause, some murmuring among themselves, their voices alight with excitement. Older Brother Kyoujurou has mentioned several times the growing force of Demon Moons at their borders, but Tanjirou didn’t know that the Empire would be marching out to deal with it so soon.

Tanjirou has fought in some minor skirmishes with Older Brother Kyoujurou for matters regarding the Flameheart Duchy, but he’s never had to participate in a war before. Against the demons that had killed his mother and siblings, no less…

“They will be moving out tonight, to ensure that our people’s safety is restored as quickly as possible.” The Empress finally ends off. “May the blessings of the gods be upon our brave soldiers. With his strength and courage, the Crown Prince will surely defeat the evil demons and restore peace to our borders!”

“For the Empire!” Someone in the crowd calls out, and the rest of the nobles echo their sentiment. “For the Empire!”

So that is what the Crown Prince had meant, Tanjirou thinks grimly as the nobles return to their wine and idle conversation. As the ‘right hand man’ of the Crown Prince, it goes without saying that he will have to accompany the man to the front lines. And if they are to depart tonight…

Tanjirou turns around, intending to visit the Violet Lily Palace as soon as possible. His lady is unwell, and yet now he will not be able to stay by her side. What if her maid bullies her when she is ill? What if the assassin behind the poisoning attempt returns to finish off the job?

Before he can take so much as a step, however, the Crown Prince tugs him back by the arm. “Where do you think you’re going, Sir Tanjirou?”

“I wish to see Her Highness before I depart for the border.”

“Did you not hear Her Majesty’s order?” the Crown Prince counters sharply. “She said that we are to depart tonight.”

“And I have no intention of disobeying.” Tanjirou retorts, frowning. Why is the Crown Prince being so unreasonable? “I simply intend to visit my lady in person one last time before I disappear on her for an indefinite amount of time. It is not as though I am going to disappear.”

“But we have to leave now.”

“And I have said that I will be quick. The Violet Lily Palace is not too far from here, and if I use magic to enhance my speed, I can—”

The Crown Prince raises a hand, cutting off Tanjirou’s words.

“I’m not sure if you’ve fully grasped this, seeing as you were adopted into the Rengoku family.” The Crown Prince’s eyes are as piercing as his mother’s as he speaks. “As your liege, let me give you a piece of advice. To defy the Empress’ words is to commit high treason. Are you ready to go to the execution block for your decisions?”

Tanjirou grits his teeth. Why is he so hell-bent on keeping him away from his sister? “I—”

A heavy, solid hand suddenly lands on Tanjirou’s shoulder, followed by a familiar, pulsating warmth. The tension vanishes from the atmosphere all at once. “Older Brother Kyoujurou!”

“What are the two of you doing, still standing around here, hm?” Kyoujurou laughs effably with that booming voice of his. “Did you not hear the Empress’ orders? It’s time to be off!”

“Older Brother, I’d like to visit the Princess before I leave.“ He looks at his adoptive brother pleadingly. Please help me. Older Brother Kyoujurou only frowns, however.

“Unfortunately, we are pressed for time at the moment. The situation at the border isn’t looking too good, so our current strategy is to catch them by surprise using the darkness as cover,” Older Brother Kyoujurou explains to him, a sympathetic expression on his face. “How about this— I’ll ask Senjurou to stop by the palace tomorrow to inform the Princess of your departure and ensure that she’s doing alright?”

It is not what Tanjirou would have preferred, but he supposes that this is the best alternative that is available to him now. “Alright, then,” he relents, letting out a silent sigh. “Thank you, Older Brother.”

“Anything for my younger siblings.” Older Brother Kyoujurou grins and ruffles his hair, before turning back to the Crown Prince. “Then, shall we, Your Highness?”

The Crown Prince glances between the two of them. It looks as though he wants to say something, but thinks the better of it, before nodding curtly. “Let us make haste with our preparations,” he says instead, turning around to leave. “I will meet the two of you at the stables.”

Tanjirou bows his head reluctantly. “Yes, Your Highness.”

It seems that the next few weeks will be difficult, to say the least.

>>>

The ride to the border is wet, long and… terribly uneventful.

Tanjirou knows that he should be grateful that their journey has been smooth sailing so far, but part of him is… hoping that something will happen. Just so that he will not have to deal with this awkwardness any longer.

Crown Prince Hayato rides in front of him on a black stallion, wearing a dark cloak around his shoulders to keep the rain off. He somehow looks every bit as majestic and proud as his station demands, even with the droplets of water pelting down on him. Tanjirou wonders whether the nature of his magic is water, just as his lady’s is.

Part of him feels as though he should just ask the Crown Prince about it. Make some attempt at a conversation. Take the initiative to break the ice (because it doesn’t seem like the other party will be doing it anytime soon). The Crown Prince is supposed to be as much of his master as the Princess, although Tanjirou’s sentiments towards the two are quite different.

Perhaps he’s only misunderstood the Crown Prince so far. His liege might not be aware that Tanjirou heard his harsh words to his sister. The two of them might have gotten off to a rocky start, but maybe Tanjirou can try to turn things around during this campaign.

He’s still considering whether he should approach the Crown Prince first when he hears a low, familiar voice calling out to him.

“Hey.”

Tanjirou very near falls off his horse when he realises that it is the Crown Prince calling out to him. “Yes, Your Highness!” Nudging his boots into his horse’s side, he pulls up next to his liege, heart thumping in his chest. What does the Crown Prince want from him?

The Crown Prince’s lilac eyes track him as he approaches. The colour of his eyes is really too much like the Princess’, except that his are far colder. “You…”

“Your Highness?”

“My sister…” Tanjirou brightens at the mention of the Princess. Perhaps the Crown Prince actually has a soft spot for his sister? That warm thought, however, is quickly doused when the prince follows up with, “Don’t bother writing to her during this expedition. It’s a waste of time.”

Tanjirou stares. It’s rude, and he really shouldn’t be doing this to the Crown Prince of the Empire, but he can’t help it. Did the Crown Prince really just call him over here just to tell him that it would be a waste of time writing to the Princess? How terrible can a single person be to their only sibling in the world?

“I… apologise, Your Highness.” Tanjirou forces his jaw to relax. He hadn’t realised that he had clenched it. “I don’t understand why you would tell me this.”

The Crown Prince tugs absentmindedly at the end of his ponytail — a habit that he shares with his estranged sister, it seems. “I’m just saying. Just… don’t. It’ll only be a distraction for you, on the battlefield, and that’s not worth it.”

Tanjirou doesn’t know whether the prince is trying to make things better or worse. “So, you mean to tell me that writing to my master — the same master that you prevented me from seeing before I left — is nothing but a waste of my time?” The Crown Prince frowns, as though he’s suddenly realised that Tanjirou is quite upset by his words.

“I was simply—”

“I do not believe that time spent reaching out to those I care about is a waste,” Tanjirou says sharply. His tongue feels like a sword in his mouth. “Perhaps that is something that you should learn, Your Highness.

The Crown Prince’s eyes widen, and there’s a look of surprise on his face. Tanjirou jerks back — he hadn’t realised that he was being so sharp, so loud. This, he thinks, is the biggest reaction that he’s ever seen the Crown Prince give.

Oh, gods above. Is he going to be in trouble now?

“I, uh. Uhm.” Tanjirou hurries to find words that are suitably apologetic, but there is a stubborn part in him that refuses to rescind his words. What he said was true. “I shouldn’t have been so rude earlier, Your Highness. I apo—”

“Is something the matter?”

Tanjirou nearly jumps out of his skin when Older Brother Kyoujurou’s voice rings out loud and clear from next to him. For such a loud and enthusiastic person, the Archduke can certainly be silent when he wants to be.

The Flame Archduke glances between the two of them. He is clearly perspective enough to see that there is tension between the two of them, but waits for them to speak first.

Tanjirou and the Crown Prince exchange looks before they turn away from each other once again. It seems that neither of them really want to talk about this. “No,” Tanjirou answers, but his words sound unconvincing to his own ears.

Older Brother Kyoujurou frowns at him, but before he can say anything, the Crown Prince holds up a hand. His face has melted — or rather frozen — back into its usual sharp, indifferent expression. “Archduke. I will go ahead first to scout the path ahead.”

Archduke Rengoku nods, glad to defuse the tension between the two. “Of course. Be safe, Your Highness.”

Their eyes meet once before the Crown Prince moves to steer his horse away. Tanjirou and Kyoujurou watch as the man and his horse slowly pulls away from the

“I have fought side by side with His Highness since he was only a young boy,” Older Brother Rengoku says as he glances in front of them, where the Crown Prince has gone ahead to scout. “I am aware that His Highness may come off as… abrasive and curt.”

Tanjirou presses his lips together, suddenly feeling guilty. He hadn’t realised that his true thoughts about his liege had been obvious. “He.. does, indeed,” he admits reluctantly. No matter what he might feel about the man, the Crown Prince is still someone that Older Brother Kyoujurou had brought him into the palace to serve. “Apologies, Older Brother. I will do my best to fix my behaviour.”

The Archduke waves off his apology, however. “Oh, do not trouble yourself over something like that. I would always prefer that you be honest around me.” He looks down at the reins in his hands, contemplating something for a brief moment. “But please, don’t hold it against him. His Highness is not a bad person at heart! He’s just spent most of his childhood on the battlefield — a little socially inept, if you will.”

Tanjirou is a little too busy contemplating Kyoujurou’s words to notice the brief look of awkwardness that crosses the Archduke’s face. What his older brother has said is indeed true. If all the time that the Crown Prince spends away from the palace is on the battlefield instead, then it would make sense that his social skills would not be as developed.

It is quite a terrible thought, now that Tanjirou thinks about this, that the Crown Prince was sent to the battlefield so young. Training in swordsmanship and combat tactics had been gruelling enough. He cannot imagine having to do all of that as a young boy.

Perhaps he should stop comparing the Crown Prince to the Princess so much. It is difficult, sometimes, for Tanjirou to remember that they are two completely different people, with two completely different lives. The two are almost mirror images of each other.

“I will try my best to better understand His Highness, then,” Tanjirou declares to Kyoujurou determinedly. “Thank you, Older Brother. For clearing my mind and giving me a new perspective.”

The Archduke coughs into his fist, but nods enthusiastically. “That would be good. I’m pleased to hear that—”

A sudden burst of bright light catches both of their attentions. Tanjirou’s eyes dart up at once, to the source of the glow, only to see red streaks bursting across the grey sky. A flare made with magic — crimson sparks lighting up the night.

Tanjirou’s heart leaps into his throat. He opens his mouth to yell at the troops behind him, but Older Brother Kyoujurou is already on it.

“The Crown Prince is under attack! Troops, ready yourselves — we’ll be engaging in combat!”

With a sharp ‘hah!’ and a jerk on the reins, the Flame Archduke is charging forward, sword already drawn. Tanjirou quickly leans forward, spurring his horse to follow, pulling out his sword as well.

After a short moment, Tanjirou spots the source of the commotion — it’s impossible to, with bright flashes of magic and spells lighting up the grim forest. Crown Prince Hayato stands in the middle of the ambush with a blood stained sword in one hand and a miniature hurricane swirling in the other.

Around him lie the corpses of slain demons — inhabitants of the Dark Moon Kingdom that borders the Sumihana Empire. The remaining demons attempt to take advantage of their superior numbers to rush him, but the Crown Prince slams a foot down on the ground. The ensuing shockwave knocks them off their feet, scattering them like bowling pins.

Despite how many demons he knocks back, however, more just seem to keep coming. Some seem to notice their approach, and start to turn towards them instead. Many even begin to launch projectile attacks in their direction, a deadly hail racing down towards them as they continue their charge.

In front of him, Older Brother Kyoujurou raises his blade. The steel glows orange for a brief moment, before flames suddenly burst along the length of the blade. His voice roars out like a cannon in the rainy night.

“Blooming Flame Undulation!”

The fire roars to life, leaping from Kyoujurou’s blade as the Archduke weaves and twists his sword. The bright orange flames almost engulf the entirety of the night sky, forming a shape reminiscent of a massive, blooming flower. The projectiles incinerate instantly upon contact with Kyoujurou’s flames, while the magical attacks sparkle and fizzle out in the face of such overwhelming power. Even though Tanjirou had been taught by the man himself, he still finds himself in awe of the Archduke’s raw skill with the blade.

The fire flares out, and Older Brother Kyoujurou thrusts his sword at the sky, rallying the troops behind him. “For the Empire! Charge!”

Less than a second later, they slam into the demon moon soldiers. There is no time to think, or to come up with a strategy. Tanjirou swings his sword like a man possessed, crimson red fire flaring from his blade. All he can focus on is the next enemy in front of him, the way his sword slices through limbs and flesh.

His breathing is faltering, and the spaces between each breath is getting shorter and shorter. With every demon he cuts down, another moves to take its place. The hoard almost seems endless.

Somehow, in the chaos of the battle, Tanjirou finds himself back to back with the Crown Prince. Tanjirou might not have the most favourable impression of the man, but he has to admit that the prince’s fighting abilities are

His fighting style is almost dazzling to watch, silver blade twisting through the wind and rain in an enchanting dance. That’s it, a dance. The Crown Prince fights as though he is dancing, just like that night in the ballroom — a beautiful, bloody dance.

His steps are light and graceful, strikes clean and elegant, but still deadly with power behind every swing of his sword. Tanjirou watches open mouthed as the Crown Prince lunges forward and beheads a demon, before spinning in a circle to pierce the neck of a dark mage sneaking up behind him.

He cannot tear his eyes away.

Unfortunately, that leads to him being distracted at a most inopportune moment. Tanjirou still has one eye on his fight, but in the second that he glances over at the Crown Prince once more, a dark mage takes the opportunity to cast an ice paralysis spell on him.

This would not be a problem under normal circumstances — Tanjirou has practised with a similar ability against the Mist Knight, Muichirou. A simple fire spell would solve his problem in an instant. However, the sheer number of demons makes everything too chaotic for Tanjirou to focus on everything at once.

Just as he moves to cast the spell, a demon leaps at him, screeching with an ear piercing shriek as it swings a heavy stone club in its hands. Tanjirou takes a step back, raising his sword to bear the brunt of the blow. But it won’t be enough, and he’s unable to reverse the flow of his magic within such a small window of time to reinforce his blade—

Tanjirou realises all of that in the time it takes the club to swing down in its arc. Grimacing, he braces himself for the impact. In the worst case scenario, he’ll probably end up with a broken arm. It’ll be painful, to say the least, but at the very least it won’t be lethal—

“Duck!”

The Crown Prince’s voice rings out like a command — a command, Tanjirou realises, when his body obeys without second thought. His head jerks down, a gasp escaping his lips, and above him he hears the sound of metal striking hard against something else, followed by a low grunt.

The frost along his legs finally dissipates, and Tanjirou wastes no time shoving his blade into the demon’s gut. It lets out a choked gurgle as his sword slides out from its abdomen, before collapsing in a bloody heap on the ground. But Tanjirou has no time to bother about it. Instead, he whirls around in alarm.

“Your Highness! Are you injured?”

“Focus on yourself!” The Crown Prince shouts back at him. Before Tanjirou can say anything in response, he has already vanished back into the mess of swinging swords and flailing limbs.

Tanjirou sucks in a breath, suddenly feeling a strange mixture of gratefulness and guilt. Despite their strained relationship with one another, the Crown Prince had been looking out for him even in the heat of the battle. Tanjirou is supposed to be the knight here! It’s his job to protect the prince, not the other way around.

Before he can think too deeply about it, however, another sword swings at him and Tanjirou raises his blade to block it. He shakes his head — he’s still in the middle of a fight.

The complicated thoughts can come later.

>>>

After hours of fighting, even the seemingly endless horde of demons finally begins to thin out. And when the sun begins to rise above the mountains in the distance, the demons finally start to flee back to the forest — seeking the cover of the trees. Some of the soldiers move to chase after the retreating forces, while the majority stay back to regroup and tend to the wounded.

Tanjirou is among the latter. After that brief, critical moment, he had thrown himself back into the fight with a renewed vigour — and managed to leave the battle relatively unscathed, aside from some superficial injuries.

He helps to construct a tent for a makeshift infirmary, before assisting the medics with carrying the injured. Older Brother Kyoujurou stands in a central point of the camp and gives orders regarding the logistics and encampment.

He doesn’t see the Crown Prince.

The last time he had caught sight of him, the Crown Prince had been giving Older Brother Kyoujurou instructions. He’d disappeared quickly after that.

When Tanjirou has finished over at the medical tent, he decides that it is time to check up on his liege. The same emotions that he’d felt earlier have come back now that the fight is over, except stronger this time. Perhaps it is really just as Older Brother Kyoujurou had said — the Crown Prince is just bad at communicating.

He finds the Crown Prince after a short journey around the encampment. His prince is sitting on a fallen log at the very edge of the camp, his back to Tanjirou as he approaches. He doesn’t seem to notice Tanjirou coming up behind him.

“Your Highness,” Tanjirou calls out, when he’s a few steps away from him. “Are you injured?”

The Crown Prince startles, before turning around. He’s winding a bandage around his upper arm, the roll of fabric coming loose in his other hand. From the expression on his face, he had not expected to see Tanjirou there.

“What are you doing here?”

The two of them look at each other, tense at the unfriendly answer. Suddenly, the atmosphere feels awkward once more.

He’s just bad at communicating. You can do this! Tanjirou clears his throat, and takes a step forward. “Uhm, Your Highness. I couldn’t find you after the battle, so I came to look for you.”

The Crown Prince presses his lips together before he glances away. “You didn’t have to,” he mutters, resuming patching up his injury. “I’m fine.”

Tanjirou continues to stand there, looking at the Crown Prince. The more he watches, the more it becomes evident that it is difficult to secure a bandage in place with only one arm.

After a moment of hesitation, Tanjirou decides to speak up once more. “Perhaps, would you like some help, Your Highness?” he asks, delicately.

The Crown Prince glances up at him, frowning. “The others have far more severe injuries than I do.”

“And they are being tended to by the medics,” Tanjirou tells him, taking another step forward. “I might be unskilled, but please allow me to help you.”

Silence hangs in the air for a few seconds. The Crown Prince looks down at the messy bandage around his forearm, before he finally gives in with a sigh. “Do as you please.”

“Thank you, Your Highness!”

Tanjirou takes a seat on the log next to the Crown Prince, taking the roll of bandage from his hand. Carefully undoing the messily wound segment, he inspects the wound. It’s surprisingly clean, even though Tanjirou doesn’t see any medical supplies anywhere.

“I cleaned my own wound.” The Crown Prince holds up a finger. It glows a soft blue for a moment, before pure water suddenly starts to condense there. Tanjirou watches in fascination as it swirls around his fingertip, before the Crown Prince releases the magic and the small orb bursts into little droplets. When Tanjirou blinks, the Crown Prince’s magic bears the shape of tiny white feathers — just like his sister’s.

“Water magic…” Tanjirou murmurs aloud. It’s impressive, really. The only other magic users with abilities rooted in water natures that he thinks on par with the Crown Prince are Tokito Muichirou, the prodigious Mist Knight, and Tomioka Giyuu — the Archduke of the Stillwater Duchy who had taught him swordfighting.

He rips off the stained portion and starts to carefully wind the bandage around the Crown Prince’s arm. The gash — left by a sword — is long, but fortunately shallow.

Tanjirou is so occupied with bandaging the wound that he nearly jumps when the Crown Prince suddenly speaks first. “My sister…”

The Crown Prince is initiating the conversation? Tanjirou nearly looks up at the sky to check for flying pigs, before realising that that might have been a little mean-hearted. “What about the Princess, Your Highness?”

“About what I said earlier, about the writing of letters…” The Crown Prince hesitates for a brief moment, before he shakes his head. “It’s a waste of time… because the head butler of the Violet Lily Palace will throw them away anyway.”

Tanjirou blinks at the prince. He hadn’t expected that, and hadn’t realised that either. The head butler — Hirata — has made it more than clear that he doesn’t enjoy the sight of Tanjirou, even though they both serve the same master. “How is he able to do that without any repercussions, though? Shouldn’t his loyalty be to Her Highness?”

The Crown Prince lets out a quiet snort at his words. “Hirata serves the Empress, not m— I mean, my sister. And my mother likes to keep an eye on her, at all times. I only escaped because I was more talented with a sword, so she sent me to the battlefield instead.”

Tanjirou feels a brief flash of righteous anger on his master’s behalf run through him. Or masters, he supposes, glancing up at the Crown Prince. How can a mother do that to her own children?

“That’s terrible,” he says straightforwardly, shocking even himself. Speaking about the Empress like that… To his surprise, the Crown Prince laughs. It’s a bright sound, almost melodic — so much like the Princess’, even though the cadence and pitch is different.

“Being out here is a preferable fate, I think, rather than having to live under her thumb all the time.” The Crown Prince looks down at the ground under his feet. There’s a complicated, faraway look in his eyes. “I… imagine that it must be suffocating. For her.”

Tanjirou nods slowly. He thinks he’s starting to understand the man sitting next to him a little more now. “You are… unnecessarily harsh with her, though.”

The Crown Prince turns to look at him. There is a genuinely surprised expression on his face. “I was? When?”

So he wasn’t aware? “At the ball, before we set off on this campaign.” Tanjirou tries to recall the exact words that he had spoken to the Princess. “You said something about going back to her room, and not emerging for the rest of the—”

The prince coughs. For some reason, he looks… embarrassed? “I, uhm, said that because my sister said that she was feeling unwell. But she didn’t want to, uhh, trouble anyone, so she tried to stop me from sending her back to her rooms. Because of that, I lost my temper… a little.”

Tanjirou is surprised to hear that. He has gotten angry with Nezuko on several occasions before — when she overworked herself to keep their family’s bakery running, when she puts on a brave front even with him, when she puts herself down. Perhaps it’s just a brotherly sort of affection.

He thinks he understands.

“I’m just bad at communicating,” the Crown Prince adds on, glancing at Tanjirou out of the corner of his eye.

“Even if that might be the case,” Tanjirou says with a sigh, as he starts to tie off the bandage, “do you think you could stand to be a little more gentle with your sister? The two of you are the only family that the other has…” Since the Emperor is neglectful and the Empress is so controlling. “I think that it is a pity that the two of you are so estranged.”

Again, the prince coughs. “I could, uh, try.”

Tanjirou brightens. “That is wonderful to hear.” He finishes tying off the bandage, before rising to his feet and extending a hand to the Crown Prince. He feels so much lighter now. “Then, let us too, take this opportunity to get to know each other better, Your Highness.”

The Crown Prince looks at him for a moment, before he laughs quietly and takes Tanjirou’s hand. The calluses on his palms are rough, but his hand is warm and his grip is firm.

“Please,” he says. “Call me Hayato.”

>>>

The next few weeks pass by in what seems like a long, never-ending blur. Fight the demons at night, spend the days treating the wounded and packing up camp, before moving to pursue the fleeing enemy. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

They’ve chased the demon horde from the border of the Empire all the way to the river that separates the two countries, destroying countless strongholds along the way. And in spite of all the victories that they have achieved, Tanjirou must admit that he is… well, tired.

“If I see even one more dark mage tonight, I’ll summon the water from that Great Lake over there and wash all of them away,” the Crown Prince — no, Prince Hayato — mutters. His platinum hair is dark and stuck to his forehead with sweat, and the sword in his hand is stained crimson with dried blood. The only emotion that trumps fatigue on his face right now is exhaustion.

“You shall drown us with them, Your Highness,” Older Brother Kyoujurou comments lightly. Even though his expression is amused, Tanjirou can tell that he, too, is tired from all this ceaseless fighting.

“Better than spending another sleepless night fending off their hordes.” Tanjirou lets out a chuckle at that, and the Crown Prince cracks a smile. Even though this campaign is keeping him from returning to the Princess’ side, Tanjirou has found the silver lining in this situation as well.

Getting to know the Crown Prince, looking past their past misunderstandings and quarrels to see Hayato — the slightly awkward, sharp tongued, but genuinely kindhearted person beneath. His company, alongside that of his ever exuberant older brother, have made this campaign far more bearable.

Dare he say, even somewhat enjoyable.

The three of them start to walk back towards the command tent. The remainder of the horde will be cleared by the hunting party. “We should take this time to rest,” Older Brother Kyoujurou says, stretching both arms above his head. “The campaign might be drawing to an end, but we cannot let our guard down now.”

Prince Hayato sighs deeply. “We might be returning to the palace soon, huh…” He doesn’t sound too excited at the prospect.

Tanjirou, on the other hand, cannot wait to return to the palace. More specifically, to see his sister and the Princess once more. He has been writing letters, in spite of the Crown Prince telling him not to, and as expected he has not received a single reply.

The Crown Prince, seeing his disappointment, had tried to cheer him up. Perhaps she is tired and simply resting, or maybe she’s having another bout of illness again. The words had been well-meaning, but they did not do much to alleviate his concern for his master.

“—Sir Tanjirou!” Startled, Tanjirou turns to see Older Brother laughing at him, the prince shaking his head. “We asked you a question.”

“Perhaps he is thinking of the Princess again!” Older Brother Kyoujurou says with a loud laugh, and Tanjirou shakes his head furiously. He can already feel his cheeks starting to warm.

“Older Brother!”

The Crown Prince, however, looks at him quizzically… and for some reason, awkwardly. “You…”

“The Princess is my master! Of course I am concerned for her, after not having heard from her so long!” Tanjirou hurries to explain before the prince can get any wrong ideas. Older Brother Kyoujurou doesn’t know what he’s saying! “I do not know how she is doing, after all. And the person that poisoned her has still yet to be caught…”

For some reason, the Crown Prince’s expression becomes more grim. “Do not worry. Nothing has happened — we would have heard from a Royal Messenger, otherwise.” He reaches out to pat Tanjirou’s shoulder firmly. “Sometimes, no news is good news.”

He’s right. “I suppose so…”

The Crown Prince shakes his head and smiles, a rare expression. “You will be able to return to the palace soon. I’m sure that she’ll be happy to see you.”

Tanjirou looks at him, surprised by his sincere words, before he lowers his head awkwardly. His lips feel far too dry all of a sudden. “I hope that she will.”

Behind them, Older Brother Kyoujurou lets out a deep chuckle and claps Tanjirou so hard on the back so hard he nearly goes stumbling. “It seems that someone is truly growing up,” he says with a slightly teasing tone to his voice. Tanjirou can feel his entire face heat up like briquettes catching alight.

Before he can say a word in response, the clanging of a bell rings through the air. Tanjirou’s head jerks up, instantly alert. Behind him, the Crown Prince curses and draws his sword.

“Demon attack!” He calls out, and the camp immediately starts rushing for their weapons once more. “Men, to arms!” With that, he runs off in the direction of the alarm. The Archduke huffs good-naturedly and draws his own sword, before giving Tanjirou a wink.

“Let’s get this campaign finished quickly, hm?” he says, and runs after the Crown Prince before Tanjirou can answer once again. Tanjirou shakes his head, dismayed. Really! Older Brother Kyoujurou can’t just say those things around the Crown Prince!

Still, what he said was right. Tanjirou unsheathes his sword and takes a deep breath, looking down at his reflection in his blade. The quicker this campaign is over, the more quickly he will be able to return to her side.

He wonders if his lady will be happy to see him once more.

Soon, Tanjirou promises himself. Soon.

>>>

After two months and fifteen days of fighting, the campaign finally ends.

The Empire’s troops, led by the Crown Prince Sumiyuri Hayato, manage to corner the majority of the enemy at the river dividing their two countries. The demons that managed to escape the pincer attack had nowhere to flee but the river, and had ended up swept away by the rushing rapids. The remainder of them made for easy pickings.

Relief is too light of a word to describe what Tanjirou feels, but he is glad that it is over. The troops take a few days to tend to the wounded and loot the corpses of the demons, before they tear down their camp and start on their journey home.

Tanjirou finds himself far too energetic for someone who’s just fought a two month long campaign. The tents need tearing down? He’s on it. He races to carry the wounded and fetch medicine. The horses are fed and saddled in half the expected time with Tanjirou on the case.

Both the Crown Prince and the Archduke make teasing comments about how excited he is on the journey back, but Tanjirou feels as though nothing could make him any less glad. He can finally return to the palace and see his lady face to face once more.

How is she? Is she doing alright? How has her mother been treating her? Did she think of him, too, while he was away?

All those questions feel like they might burst from his chest, but there is still one thing standing between him and seeing the princess once more. As they reach a small town a short distance from the palace, a Royal Messenger is waiting to receive them — with news of a celebratory ball to be held in their honour.

While the other soldiers are glad to hear it — as they deserve, for they have fought hard and well over the duration of the campaign — Tanjirou doesn’t have much care for the ball . He only wonders if the Princess, his first priority at the moment, will be there. The celebrations are of secondary importance to him.

Still, the ball is organised by the Emperor and Empress to honour their contributions to the country, and so Tanjirou cannot simply not turn up.

They ride through the gates of the Palace to banners and cheers from the townspeople, petals and coloured confetti thrown into the air. The air is celebratory, the atmosphere high, as though a dark cloud has been lifted from the entire country.

The Empress has clearly spared no expense with the ball and its accompanying banquet. Tanjirou, the Crown Prince and Kyoujurou are directed to one of the most beautiful gardens in the main palace after dismounting their horses, and it seems that even the Crown Prince is taken aback by how lavishly the place is decorated. Gold fixtures and scented candles — they glow in the dim light of the evening.

Upon seeing the spread prepared for them, the other soldiers eagerly move to dig into the feast. The Crown Prince is led away by the Archduke to speak with the Empress about something, and for a moment, Tanjirou is left all alone in the middle of the banquet.

Before he can second guess himself, he turns around and starts making his way out of the gardens. There is somewhere more important for him to be.

>>>

Hayato — no, Hayami — notices the moment Tanjirou disappears from the ball.

She’s been watching Tanjirou out of the corner of her eye the entire time, ever since they’d passed through the palace gates. Hayami had suspected that he might slip away to visit the Violet Lily Palace, and she had been right — she’d just thought that he would have at least waited until the ball was over.

While part of her is very touched by Tanjirou’s dedication to the Princess — well, to her, she struggles to remember that she is Sumiyuri Hayami, Princess of the Empire while masquerading as the Crown Prince — it also causes her a great deal of trouble.

The doll that she’d sent back to her room the night of that banquet, the one that has been taking her place as the Princess, must be at the very limits of its magical power. She had imbued it with as much magic as she could spare before she had left on the campaign, but even the most talented of mages have their limits.

Left alone without a power source, the doll would have slowly been drained of all its magic and returned to its usual power saving mode. All remaining magic would be directed towards its basic functions, such as maintaining its form and making necessary movements to keep up this charade. If Tanjirou found it, he would definitely become suspicious.

Hayami cannot let that happen. She, too, slips out of one of the side doors right after Tanjirou does, before ducking into one of the underground passages that the servants closest to the Royal Family use to get around the palace. She had sent a message ahead, when their party had still been at the town, and she can only hope that they have received her orders.

The Royal Magicians are waiting when she finally bursts into her familiar bedroom from behind a painting that conceals the entrance to the secret tunnels. The doll lies in her bed, cover tucked up to her chin, resting peacefully. It’s strange, seeing herself while she isn’t herself, but that will soon change.

She throws out a hand at the doll, summoning it back to her with a quick spell. It’s eerie, to watch her own form writhe and contort back into a small ball of residual magic, before that too dissipates into the air with a quiet ‘pop’.

“Your Highness,” the Imperial Magician greets coolly as she steps forward to greet Hayami, magic staff in her hand. “We received your orders. Is there any reason why your detransformation needs to be so urgent?”

“It is not your business,” Hayami replies, already beginning to shrug off the top layer of her armour. It will not fit once her upper body has returned to its… original form. She glances at the door, licking her lips nervously. What if he comes at any moment now? “And let’s not waste time. I am in a hurry, so get on with it.”

Changing form within such a short time will definitely hurt, but Hayami is used to pain. She can withstand it, that she knows. It’s not that big of a deal to her.

Besides, if Tanjirou were to come home after such a long and tiring campaign to that bland, emotionless doll… Hayami doesn’t think she could bear the thought of letting him down like that.

The Imperial Magician raises an eyebrow, but clearly decides that it is none of her business.

“Let us begin the detransformation, then.”

>>>

Tanjirou reaches the Violet Lily Palace in what must be record time. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he glances up at the lilac painted doors of the Princess’ palace. In just a few moments, he will be face to face with her once more.

He briefly considers heading in when he remembers the head maid, Rin Sunada, and her obvious dislike of him. If she sees him here, instead of the ball that he’s supposed to be at, he would surely be turned away at the doorstep. The same goes for the butler Hirata as well.

Licking his lips, he glances at the Violet Lily Palace — and something along the side of the palace walls catches his eyes. Tanjirou hurries over to it as unobtrusively as he can. Next to the pale stone walls of the Princess’ palace is a beautiful white trellis, hexagonal shapes stacked on top of each other to resemble a honeycomb, with garden roses and creeping vines growing all over it.

His Lady had told him about them before, how she had asked the head gardener to have this trellis made for her so that she could grow sweet peas but had ended up using them to sneak out of her bedroom at night.

He glances up at once. Just as Tanjirou had guessed, iit leads up to a window — the Princess’ drawing room window, if he’s remembering the orientation of the Violet Lily Palace right.

That would give him access to her chambers without being spotted by the head maid or the butler. Perhaps a… security issue that he should be considering, really. But that’s a thought for a later time.

Tanjirou takes a deep breath. He’s only practised this a few times (yet another useful spell he’s picked up from the Mist Knight), but he thinks he’s got the hang of it already. Carefully breathing in and out, he lets his magic flow out of him, tempering it. It coalesces around him like a mist for a brief moment, before clinging to his form, the magic cool against his skin.

And when he looks down once more, he is completely invisible. Truly, the Mist Knight’s skill at crafting such spells are second to none.

Once he’s sure no one will be able to see him, Tanjirou puts his hands to the trellis and begins to climb. The wood creaks a little when he puts his weight on it, but otherwise holds firm, much to Tanjirou’s relief.

He reaches the top of the trellis in almost no time at all. Carefully, Tanjirou slips into the drawing room — the place where he’d first met the princess, he recalls. A little smile pulls on his lips at the memory. Even that feels nostalgic, after having been away at the battlefield for so long.

The doors to the Princess’ bedroom are shut as Tanjirou approaches. He wonders why the Princess is not at the ball that he is supposed to be at at this very moment.Has she taken ill? Is she perhaps feeling unwell? If so, Tanjirou will let her rest after he at least sees for himself that she is well — relatively so.

Still, he hopes that she’ll be pleased when she hears that he has returned to the palace.

He’s about to knock on the door when he suddenly hears voices from the other side. His hand pauses, knuckles faltering against the wood. Is there perhaps someone else inside the princess’ chambers as well?

His thoughts are interrupted by a low groan that he recognises as the Crown Prince’s. He’s heard that voice enough times to recognise it anywhere. Tanjirou’s mind is thrown into confusion in an instant — the prince had definitely still been at the ball when he had left, so how could he have reached the Violet Lily Palace more quickly than Tanjirou did? Did he decide to pay his sister a visit as well?

But why does it sound as though he is… in pain?

If there is an assailant inside the room who is skilled enough to hurt the prince, then Tanjirou will need to assist him. And the princess as well! Tanjirou shakes his head, heart pounding in his chest. He definitely needs to intervene.

The invisibility spell has still yet to wear off, so Tanjirou should make use of it to catch the assailant by surprise. He reaches for the handle of the door and pulls it open a crack, intending to assess the situation at hand. And he sees…

The Princess — no, the Crown Prince — no, but it’s his lady on the ground, sucking in raged breaths through gritted teeth — dressed in the uniform of the Crown Prince? There is no Crown Prince inside the Princess’ chambers, only his lady and a group of people with staffs in their hands whom he recognises as the Royal Magicians.

The remains of the magic circle on the ground glows softly before vanishing, but Tanjirou catches enough of the inscriptions and designs written into it before it disappears completely. Enough to put the magic circle’s purpose together.

Transfiguration — physical transformation. And the princess is…

Oh. Oh. Tanjirou thinks he’s starting to understand what is going on now.

Transfiguration magic — especially ones used on people — is highly complex and requires a great deal of care. It’s so complicated that its usage is considered almost taboo except for high ranking mages or magicians. If just a small part of the magic circle or incantation goes wrong, the results could be catastrophic — and irreversible.

The words that leave one of the Magicians’ mouths only confirm his theory.

“You must make sure to drink the potion every day to maintain that form, Your Highness,” the hooded magician says, seemingly ignorant to the fact that the only princess of this kingdom is on the ground and gritting her teeth in pain. “If your identity were to be discovered, Her Majesty would be most displeased.”

This is nothing new to them… which must mean that his lady has gone through this same spell many times. Tanjirou’s heart clenches in his chest. He’s only experienced transfiguration magic once, when a healer had used it to patch up a terrible scar from a spar on his leg. The pain had been bad then, but to have the transfiguration spell used on your entire body?

The agony must have been unbearable. Tanjirou cannot believe that her own mother would make her go through such pain.

He had a bad feeling about the Empress before, but it’s hard not to feel revulsion at the thought of her now.

“I got it,” his lady says. Her voice comes out roughened, and he can hear the commanding air of the Crown Prince in her words. She coughs and shakes her head, one hand massaging her throat. “I know.”

At the white haired magician’s command, the rest of the magicians turn around and begin to make their way over to the door. Tanjirou barely manages to push the door shut and get out of the way in time before the door swings open once more, the robed magicians filing out of the Princess’ chambers. They unknowingly pass by Tanjirou, standing behind one of the marble pillars of the drawing room, his heart racing in his chest.

For a moment, Tanjirou simply remains where he is, feeling slightly overwhelmed. This must surely be one of the topmost secrets of the Empire, because who would have thought that the frail Crown Princess and heroic Crown Prince would be one and the same? The next emotion that washes over him is a slight sense of hurt and betrayal. He had been by the Princess’ side for months, and had fought shoulder to shoulder with Crown Prince Hayato over the duration of the entire campaign.

Had his lady and liege not found him worthy of her trust?

He hears the door swing shut once more, and the magicians eventually all walk out of the drawing room that Tanjirou is in. The space is silent once more, empty except for Tanjirou. There are too many emotions swirling in his chest now, and he’s not sure which one to feel or accept.

Still, one thing that hasn’t changed from before is this: his desire to see her face to face once more.

Tanjirou walks over to stand outside the door, waiting for a few moments for his heart to calm down in his chest. On the other side, he can hear the shuffling of fabric, the soft padding of feet against the floor. His lady is most likely changing — out of both Crown Prince Hayato’s clothes as well as his identity.

He wonders which one she considers her true self to be, and if she herself even knows the answer to that question. Taking a deep breath, he releases the invisibility spell from his form and watches as his body slowly becomes visible once more.

When the movement behind the door dies down and his heart has calmed sufficiently, Tanjirou raises a fist to knock gently on the door.

“Who is it?”

His mouth suddenly dry, Tanjirou swallows before he answers. “Your servant has returned from the battlefield, Your Highness.” Just as you did, he prevents himself from adding on.

“Sir Tanjirou?” He hears the princess gasp from behind the door. She sounds flustered, panicked, nothing at all like the Crown Prince that he had remembered on the battlefield. And for some reason, it makes his heart melt between his ribs. “Aren’t you— oh my… wait— give me a moment!”

Tanjirou smiles slightly, even though the princess can’t see it. “Of course, Your Highness.”

In the brief time that he is waiting, he recalls the times that he’s spent with the Crown Prince during the campaign. Knowing that he has never really been apart from his lady all this time feels strange.

The two had tended to each other’s injuries by the fire, exchanged sword fighting tips and magic spells. Tanjirou had taught him how to start a fire with a single spark while the Crown Prince had shown Tanjirou the steps to the man’s part of a ballroom dance. And—

Oh god. Oh god.

Tanjirou had confessed to the Crown Prince — now the Princess — about how much he had come to care for his lady, and how much he’d wished to see her again. And the Crown Prince had heard it all, which meant that the Princess had heard it all.

His face feels hot all of a sudden. Before he can calm himself down, however, the door swings open to reveal the princess standing there, in a loose periwinkle dress and her long platinum hair pinned up in a messy bun.

“Sir Tanjirou! You’re back!” The princess beams at him, her cheeks slightly pink from exertion and a little out of breath. She must have rushed to make herself presentable. “Shouldn’t you be at the ball that the Empress has organised? It’s a ball in your honour, after all! And why didn’t Hirata or Rin come up with you?”

Her questions pour from her mouth like an overflowing river, but Tanjirou just takes a moment to look at the familiar yet unfamiliar face of his lady once more. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, but when he looks at her, he can see the Crown Prince’s face superimposed over the princess’.

Truly, he was never apart from her for long, then. He follows her into the privacy of her bedroom,

“I thought that they would make me return to the ball if they saw me coming to visit you.” Tanjirou feels himself falling back into their old dynamic naturally. For some reason, it comes to him as easily as breathing. “So I decided to climb the trellis in the garden to your window in order to go undetected. I apologise for that, Your Highness.”

The Princess’ eyes go wide with shock as she stares at him, before she suddenly starts laughing. Tanjirou doesn’t know exactly what she finds so amusing, but he is glad that he has managed to make her smile.

Her laughter softens a little after a while, and she wipes at the corners of her eyes delicately. “Sir Tanjirou, you…” The princess laughs and shakes her head. “I would have never taken you for the type to be so brazen about breaking the rules.”

“I was impatient to see Your Highness once more. Forgive my discourtesy.”

The princess’ breath hitches a little, before she smiles at him, properly this time. “I will not hold something as trivial as this against you, Sir Tanjirou. Not when I used to sneak out of my bedroom in the very same way.” The two of them share a laugh at that. “More importantly, I am glad to see that you have returned safe and well.”

“I am glad to see that you are doing well, Your Highness.” Tanjirou replies. “But I know that looks can be deceiving—” the Princess’ eyes flit up to look at him before darting down once more “— and so I wish to ask how you are doing, Princess.”

“Me?” His lady looks surprised for a moment before she lets out a quiet laugh, moving to sit at the edge. Tanjirou joins her, sitting at the chair at her bedside. The last time he had been here, he had sat in this very chair, reading his lady stories of a dragon and a princess. “I’ve been good — a little lonely when you were gone.” She smiles at him, and even though Tanjirou can smell the lie in the air, his heart still skips a beat. “My mother has been ordering me to keep up the appearance of being sick and frail, though, so I haven’t been able to get out of the palace much.”

Another lie, but Tanjirou doesn’t mind it. “I suppose that is why I didn’t see you at the celebratory ball tonight.”

The princess flushes. “Apologies, Sir Tanjirou,” she murmurs, her head hanging slightly. “I really wanted to welcome you back personally, but things made it difficult…”

Things such as her identity as the Crown Prince. She must have seen him leaving the ballroom earlier, and knowing his intentions to see the Princess personally, had rushed back to transfigure herself into this form once more.

HIs lady had done all that for his sake. And suddenly his heart feels full to the point of bursting. How could he hold that against her?

“Well, to make up for it,” he says lightly, looking at his lady. “Would you do me the honour of a dance, Your Highness?”

The princess blinks at him, as though not quite understanding. “A dance, Sir Tanjirou? But I do not think that I will have quite enough time to get ready for the ball, and by the time we reach, it’ll—”

“Not the ball,” Tanjirou corrects her. “Here.”

Her soft, lilac eyes go wide before she glances around her room, before looking down at herself. “But I’m… not dressed for a dance. And there is no music. And there isn’t much space here to do a proper ballroom dance—”

“Your Highness is beautiful no matter what you wear,” Tanjirou reassures her. “As for music and the dance… these things are not important to me.” He holds out his hand to her. “So, would you grace me with this honour, Your Highness?”

She looks down at his outstretched hand for a moment, before she smiles and places her hand in his. “I suppose that I must, for the sake of the victorious knight who has returned to me.”

“Thank you.”

The two of them walk into the middle of the princess’ room, Tanjirou placing one hand delicately at the curve of her waist. The Princess is close — so close that he can feel her breaths on his cheek. The two of them had sat shoulder to shoulder as Crown Prince and knight before, but Tanjirou feels as though this is the first time they have been so close with his lady as her true self.

She smiles at him, and begins to count. “One, two, three…”

Their feet move in tandem. The princess is as skilled at dancing the woman’s part as she is at the man’s, and she glides gracefully over the floor as Tanjirou leads the dance. The click of their shoes against the marble floor is the only music that echoes in the quiet confines of the room, and for a moment everything is quiet except for the sound of their footsteps and their breaths as they go through the steps of the waltz.

Tanjirou would have never believed a year ago that he would one day be dancing with the princess of the Empire. Not too long ago, he’d been a simple commoner, who had nothing on his mind beyond bread and keeping his family’s bakery going. Truly, the gods must have been watching over him for Older Brother Kyoujurou to find him when he did.

Being able to meet the Princess, too, has been yet another blessing. But Tanjirou feels as though he hasn’t been able to do enough for her, and the thought makes him a little sad.

“My lady,” he begins, “You know that I am yours, right?”

For a moment, it looks as though the princess nearly stumbles over her own feet before Tanjirou pulls her upright. She coughs to regain her composure as the two of them continue to dance. “What do you mean, Sir Tanjirou?”

“I may not be as capable as my older brother, and although I have been adopted into the Rengoku household, there is much I still do not know about the ways of nobility.” Their schemes and power plays are something that Tanjirou must learn to expect and deal with, if he is to fulfil his role as the Princess’ sword and the Crown Prince’s shield. “Still, if there is ever a need for you to confide in someone… I hope you know that I will always be there to listen.”

She blinks at him, before her lips curve into a soft and a little more genuine smile.

“Thank you, Sir Tanjirou.”

They continue to dance into the night, the stars in the sky above the only witnesses to Tanjirou’s vow.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kny

[wisteriashouse]

wind blows, petals scatter

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: fluff

word count: 13.6k

remarks:  thank you for trusting me with your commission @hinokami-s​ 💖

“Mitarashi or kusa dango?”

Hayami scrunches up her face, one finger hooking around he long strands of her ponytail as she contemplates the two sticks held out to her.The mitarashi dango has a wonderfully sweet and charred flavour after being grilled over an open fire, but the steamed mugwort leaves give the kura dango a subtly earthy taste that reminds her of roasted tea. Both are delicious. How can she possibly be asked to choose between the two?

Tanjirou smiles as she continues to mull over her choices. “Still can’t decide?”

“Don’t rush me,” Hayami scolds without looking up at him, but her tone is playful. “This is a very important decision. I would have no problem eating both if you hadn’t made me participate in that soba eating competition…” she pats her tummy with a rueful smile, “I’ve never felt so full in my entire life. If I try to eat more than a stick of dango, I think I might explode.”

Tanjirou lets out a laugh at that, and Hayami can’t help the way her own lips twitch upwards in response. This entire evening has been the most relaxed she has been for a long time. The past few months for her have consisted of back to back missions, and travelling all over the country to chase down high level demons. It’s meaningful work, of course, but exhausting as well.

She had been on her way back to the Butterfly Estate after completing yet another mission, tired and hungry, when she’d run into Tanjirou in the nearby town. The two had then caught up over several bowls of soba. And now, they are wandering the streets in search of something sweet to fulfil Hayami’s craving for dessert.

Hayami doesn’t remember the last time she simply ventured the streets, searching for delicious snacks instead of demon tracks. Being able to spend such leisurely time with one of her close friends feels like a breath of fresh air — one that she hadn’t quite realised that she needed.

“We should definitely try to avoid exploding, if we can.” Tanjirou agrees, still smiling. “Still, both dangos look good to me. Should we buy both of them and split them between us?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Hayami pulls out a few bronze coins from her money pouch and drops them into the stall owner’s waiting hands before Tanjirou can get a word in. “No, no, let me pay.”

“But I wanted to treat you…”

“Perhaps next time, if you manage to move more quickly than me,” she tease, before grabbing his wrist and pulling him after her. The stall owner is starting to look exasperated with them. “Thank you, ojisan.”

The two of them continue to make their way down the streets, now with dango in hand. The sun has not quite begun to set yet — orange light rippling over the mountain tops in the distance. Ever since becoming a demon slayer, Hayami has always found herself acutely aware of the sun’s position in the sky.

Hazard of the trade, she supposes.

“Has your sword been fixed yet?” Hayami prompts Tanjirou, as the two of them aimlessly amble along. This part of the town is less crowded than the food street they’d just left, with the merchant shops and stalls starting to close shop for the night. She takes a bite of the skewer in her hand. The kusa dango is rich and earthy in her mouth. “I heard Haganezuka-san has become incredibly busy as of late.”

“He’s working to make a new sword for another slayer, so fixing my sword has been put on a waitlist.” Hayami can feel the sigh that Tanjirou lets out all the way to her bones. “I know it was my fault that it got chipped, but I’m just glad that he’s too occupied to try to kill me again.”

“Swords chip all the time, it wasn’t your fault,” Hayami reminds him, but Tanjirou refuses to hear any of it. The two debate back and forth as they walk. She’s barely gotten him to concede that Haganezuka’s swords, like all other swordsmiths’ blades, can’t be completely infallible when Tanjirou suddenly comes to a halt. They’ve reached the border of the town.

Following the path that they’ve been on would lead them back to the Butterfly Estate for the night. As though the same thought has just passed through their minds, the two glance at each other before sharing a quick laugh between them.

“Tired?” Tanjirou asks, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Not really, no.” Hayami’s reply is immediate. She had been exhausted earlier, but now she feels as light as a feather on her feet. She wants to spend more time with Tanjirou — perhaps they could wander the town just a bit longer. “I could fight a demon right now.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Tanjirou glances down at the path once again, before he turns back to Hayami, the tips of his sandals scuffing the ground idly.

Now that Hayami has a chance to look at him properly, she can’t help but notice a few things about Tanjirou that she hadn’t previously. In the time they’ve been apart, Tanjirou has grown quite a bit. Stronger, definitely — he fills out the demon slayer uniform a little more nicely, and he’s lost some of the baby fat around his cheeks. His jawline is a bit more pronounced, his shoulders broader. And his hair has grown a bit longer than what she’s used to, chestnut brown tips curling just beneath his ears.

It’s a good look on him. Hayami quite likes it, she thinks.

Tanjirou’s cheeks warm slightly under her gaze. “Wha—” he clears his throat, reaching up to push his bangs out of his eyes. Oh, wow. “What is it? Is there something on my face?” he continues, sounding completely unaware of the existential crisis that he’s just caused poor Hayami.

“Ah, yeah. You have a bit of sweet sauce from the mitarashi dango here…” She reaches out and brushes a stray spot at the corner of Tanjirou’s mouth. His skin is warm under her fingertips. “There, got it.”

“Thank you. I didn’t even notice.” Tanjirou scratches his cheek awkwardly as he smiles at her. It’s a terribly endearing look on him.

“Your hair has gotten a little long,” she comments in an attempt to distract herself.

“Has it?” He reaches behind his head to tug at the longer strands at the back, gaze shifting as he tries to gauge the length of his own hair. His eyes end up crossing and he sighs, letting the dark strands slip from his fingers with a defeated smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to get a haircut, to be honest. Perhaps I can look for a barber tomorrow…”

“I could,” Hayami interrupts, before she knows what she’s saying. What she had meant to say was that Aoi could trim his hair, but she suddenly feels the urge to try it herself. “I could help you trim your hair, I mean.” A sheepish laugh escapes her. “If you’re willing to take the risk, that is.”

Tanjirou looks at her, surprised, before he smiles. His eyes reflect the gentle glow of the street lamp overhead as he meets her gaze. Hayami’s mouth goes a little bit dry. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Then, tomorrow—”

“Caw, caw! Caw!”

Both Hayami and Tanjirou look up at the same time to see a familiar jet black crow circling above their heads. “It seems that Aiya has returned,” Hayami comments, extending her arm so that her crow can perch comfortably on it. Tanjirou coos over her, coaxing her into standing still with a small piece of dango while Hayami focuses on removing the tiny container strapped to Aiya’s leg.

As usual, there’s a tiny slip of paper rolled up and squeezed carefully inside. Hayami extracts it carefully, unfurling it to read its contents aloud.

“Demon sightings… oddly secretive… prevented entry… Warabi Village…” Hayami hums, her eyes scanning quickly over the short message. What concerns her is the paper, stamped with the Ubuyashiki house crest rather than the usual wisteria kamon — this must have been a letter personally written by the Master himself.

Whatever it is that is happening here, Oyakata-sama must have found it concerning enough to reach out to Hayami directly. And with good reason, it seems.

Hayami understands why. Warabi Village… just seeing those familiar words again had made her stomach churn uncomfortably and her fingers itch for her sword. She flexes them instead and resists the urge.

“Hayami?” Tanjirou says. “Is something wrong?” He’s watching her with a frown on his face. There’s an inquisitive little dip forming between his brows, and Hayami wants to rub it away with her thumb. Instead, she simply shakes her head and hands him the message.

His frown deepens when he reaches the end of the message. “This must be a serious situation if Oyakata-sama is contacting you directly.”

“The Warabi Village is where I grew up, ever since I was a child,” Hayami explains as Tanjirou hands the message back to her. The paper feels weighty in the palm of her hand. “The secretive estate mentioned in the letter… it is most likely the Sumiyuri Estate.”

And if anyone were to be aiding the demons, Hayami adds on in her mind darkly, it would most definitely be her family.

“But for humans to be cooperating with demons… that seems impossible.” Tanjirou shakes his head, openly frowning. It seems as though he is genuinely bewildered by such a prospect. “Maybe this is similar to the situation that occurred with Lower Moon One, and the humans are being used by the demons for some sort of purpose...”

“Or, they might be the ones harbouring the demon,” Hayami tells him as the two of them start walking once more, to make their way back to the estate. It’s a pity that their night together had to end on such a sombre note. Aiya caws once, taking flight once more and disappearing into the night sky. “That’s what Oyakata-sama thinks, at least.”

“But it doesn’t…” Tanjirou struggles to piece together his thoughts before giving up with a sigh. “I just don’t see how anyone could bear serving a demon.”

“My family would, for one.” Hayami says, and Tanjirou whips around to look at her so quickly she almost worries that he might get whiplash. She can see the hesitation to believe her words in his eyes — and even though it sends a twinge of annoyance through her, she understands why. Tanjirou has always been determined to see the best in others, and while that is a trait that she deeply admires in him, the truth is unfortunately much uglier than either of them would like. “If it would benefit them in any way, it’s likely — no, definitely true — that any Sumiyuri would accept such an offer. That’s the sort of people that make up my clan.”

Tanjirou’s expression twists uncomfortably — caught between his kind nature and his desire to believe her. “But they are humans… all humans must have some sort of humanity.”

“No,” Hayami answers shortly. “Not all of them.”

The walk back to the Butterfly Estate is one shrouded in silence, an uncomfortable tension thick in the air between the two of them. Hayami can tell that she’s letting her bad mood seep into the air — and Tnajirou can probably smell it coming off her in waves, with how sensitive his nose is. Still, as apologetic as she is for that, her mind is occupied with more pressing matters at the moment.

Matters such as this mission.

Hayami doesn’t want to accept it. In fact, she doesn’t want to step foot within a ten mile radius of Warabi Village ever again, let alone enter into that hellhole of an estate once more — a pit of nightmarish memories she would much rather stay dead and buried forever. But Oyakata-sama has personally called on her, and as a newly appointed hashira, it is her responsibility to eradicate the demon.

Moreover, she understands why Oyakata-sama needs her to go. The Sumiyuri Estate’s security is second to none, and to make another demon slayer risk life and limb to investigate would weigh on her conscience.

Still, her memories of the Sumiyuri Estate cling to the edges of her mind like shadows that refuse to fall away. If she could have a choice…

But there isn’t much of a choice, is there?

The two of them disperse to their rooms for the night upon reaching the Butterfly Estate with a muttered ‘goodnight’. In her futon, Hayami tosses and turns for hours before she finally falls asleep.

>>>>

The next morning, Hayami is packing her bags in preparation to leave when there is a light rap at the door. Frowning, Hayami sets aside her packing for a moment to answer it.

To her surprise, it’s not Aoi or Kanao or even Shinobu, but Tanjirou standing at the other side of the door… with his sword at his side and Nezuko’s box strapped to his back. He beams at her like a ray of sunshine when he sees her -- far too enthusiastic compared to the awkward tone that they had parted with last night. Hayami feels like she’s being eviscerated by the sun. “Good morning, Hayami!”

Hayami would like nothing more than to crawl under a blanket and rot away there, but she nods slowly. “Good morning to you too. Are you, uhh,” she gestures at him, “going somewhere?”

He nods brightly. “Of course. I’m going with you to Warabi Village.”

She must have heard him wrong. “Warabi Village?” she repeats after him, trying not to sound too incredulous. “Did Oyakata-sama also order you to take part in this mission?”

“No.” Tanjirou shakes his head, which only makes his determination seem even more baffling. “I decided that I am coming with you.”

Hayami blinks at him, unsure if she’s heard him right. Tanjirou is coming with her to Warabi Village. Why?

“Hagazenuka-san likely won’t be done with the other sword he’s fixing for another week or so. The Butterfly Estate is nice, but I’ve been wanting to stretch my legs for a bit now. I thought I could accompany you ”

“But your sword is broken.”

“Not broken, chipped,” Tanjirou reminds her, drawing his blade to show her the small notch along the edge before sheathing it once more. “Besides, the demon can’t be very strong if it’s still relying on humans. I can handle myself just fine with a chipped sword.”

The danger isn’t the demons, but the people living within that compound. It’s not that Tanjirou is weak either — while he had been assisted by Rengoku-san, Zenitsu and Inosuke, Tanjirou has still managed to cut through the neck bone of Upper Moon One with his own strength.

“But…”

Tanjirou’s expression softens. “Unless, it’s a bother to you, Hayami?”

Tanjirou is not a bother to her, and Hayami would never intentionally make him feel like one. Besides, both of them are aware that this is not the true reason Tanjirou wants to come along. With the mere thought of the mission hanging over her like a dark rain cloud, Tanjirou probably does not even need his sense of smell to know just how unsettled she is.

Hayami sighs sharply, turning away to tug at the end of her ponytail. “The Sumiyuri clan is dangerous, Tanjirou. I can’t in good conscience allow you to go there — the risk of you getting hurt or being harmed is too high.”

“And I can’t in good conscience let you go alone either, knowing what it means for you.” The two of them stare down each other for a while, neither willing to yield first. Tanjirou is easygoing most of the time, but in situations like this… perhaps Tanjirou should have mastered Stone Breathing like Himejima with how stubborn he is.

Finally, she relents. “Fine,” she tells him, dropping her ponytail from her fingers. His eyes light up at her words, but she is quick to clarify herself. “However, when we are in the Sumiyuri Estate, I need you to defer to my decisions and my judgement.”

Tanjirou’s brows begin to furrow, and she steps forward to press a finger to his lips before he can speak. “I am aware that you are a very kind person, Tanjirou. I admire that about you.” Tanjirou blinks rapidly. His next exhale is a beat late, warmth whispering against her fingertip. “But in the Sumiyuri Estate, cruelty, not kindness, is the local language. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Slowly, Tanjirou nods, and Hayami takes a step back, her hand falling back to her side. “Good,” she says — when had her heart started beating so quickly? “Then, let’s sit down for a bit. If you are to come with me, we will need to make some preparations before we leave.”

The two of them sit cross legged on the floor of Hayami’s room, facing one another. “A quick history of the Sumiyuri Clan,” Hayami begins seriously. “My… family is an old clan with a… prestigious lineage tracing back to the Emperor Go Mizuno-o. Despite the fact they can be considered nobility, their money is earned through all variety of criminal activities such as human and narcotics trafficking.”

Tanjirou’s frown deepens, but he does not interrupt her. She continues. “Vipers, scorpions, the whole clan is a den of beasts waiting for any sign of weakness. I understand that this is difficult to hear, but not a single one of them are good people. Some demons would be closer to heaven than they are.”

“Surely there must be one or two good people left…?” Tanjirou asks softly. Hayami shakes her head.

“If anyone has any power in the clan, then no, there’s not an ounce of goodness in them. All those with any goodness have either left… or are already dead.”

The two of them remain quiet for a while. Hayami shifts uncomfortably on the tatami, head lowered. She’s never really spoken about her family to anyone aside from Oyakata-sama. Her family’s history is stained with blood, and not something that she is proud of. Tanjirou is a person with a gentle heart, who cannot stand cruelty. If the way he looks at her changes… Hayami doesn’t know how she would handle it.

While she’s lost in thought, a warm hand suddenly settles onto her shoulder. Surprised, Hayami looks up to see Tanjirou’s eyes as gentle as they have always been. “I’m sorry to hear that you were raised in such an environment, Hayami,” he tells her. “I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been through, but no child should ever have had to grow up feeling unsafe.”

There’s a sudden prick of heat in her eyes, and Hayami glances down quickly to hide her expression. Fortunately, Tanjirou does not comment, remaining silent while she collects herself.

“Right.” She nods, subtly wiping her eyes and forcing her voice to steady once again. “If we do enter the Sumiyuri Estate, I will likely… clean up my clan for good. I cannot be a demon slayer while letting the clan run amok. Do you think… would you think less of me if I find it necessary to slay humans?”

Tanjirou removes his hand from her shoulder to ponder this in silence. Hayami finds herself missing the warmth of his hand. “I am conflicted,” he admits, finally. “But I have to concede that I understand your point of view. Especially if they have taken the lives of innocents…”

“Of course they have. They still do.”

Tanjirou takes a deep breath, staring down at the tatami mat between the two of them. “And if they do… What makes humans different from demons?”

Hayami’s eyes widen at his words. She hadn’t expected Tanjirou to say something like that, not when he has always had such a straightforward view on humans and demons. “Um, Tanjirou?”

“No, I was just… thinking.” He shakes his head before smiling at her once more. “No, I don’t think I would think less of you. I trust your judgement. If you believe it is necessary… then it must be.”

The thought that Tanjirou has so much faith in her… she can’t help the smile. “Thank you, Tanjirou. I promise that I’ll only kill those without humanity… and if possible, I’ll try to get them locked up instead.” She shrugs. “Death is too quick of an atonement for them, anyway.”

“Alright.” They smile at each other, before Hayami turns to the travel pack that she had been carrying earlier. “Since you’ll be coming with me, we need to get you a change of clothes.”

Tanjirou blinks at her. “Change of clothes? Why?”

“The Sumiyuri Clan would never let a demon slayer inside, especially if they are really hiding a demon inside the compound. We would be chased away even before I have the chance to identify myself.”

“Ah.” Hayami gives up on rummaging through her pack, turning to stare at Tanjirou instead. “Hmm. I’ll just have to buy one with your specifications in mind. I’ll let Shinobu-san know once we are done here.”

Tanjirou looks flustered. “That’s a lot of money, Hayami… you don’t have to spend that much on me.”

“Oh, no. It’s for the sake of the mission,” Hayami reassures him. “The members of the Sumiyuri Clan are used to living in opulence — they’ll be able to tell at a glance if your kimono is well made or not. Going there dressed in anything less than luxury would expose our ruse as lovers right away.”

“So they’ll be able to tell…” Tanjirou is nodding when his eyes widen all of a sudden. “Wait, our ruse as lovers?”

“Yes, our ruse as lovers— oh, I forgot to explain to you. Aside from servants of the household, only spouses of clan members can enter the compound. So, if you want to come with me, you’ll have to pretend to be my fiance.”

Tanjirou’s face is pink all over. “Oh. I, uhm, I didn’t know that.” He scratches at his head. “I suppose I didn’t think that far.”

Hayami can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “Having second thoughts now?”

“No, no!” Tanjirou shakes his head vigorously. “I just, I was thinking… will I really be able to pass as your fiance? I don’t know anything about your family and the happenings of high society… and we both know that I’m awful at lying in any way. What if I end up giving the both of us away?”

“All you need to do is stay silent and act very shy,” Hayami reassures him. “I’ve already come up with a cover for you — the youngest son of a rich, influential family. It’d make sense for you not to have knowledge of business dealings, so you wouldn’t need to know a thing. My father was in a similar position.”

“Your father?”

“Yes, my father. He was the one who married into the Sumiyuri family. My mother wanted a man who would be subservient and meek, so that she would be able to retain all the power as head of the clan. If you behave the same way,” Hayami shrugs, “the rest of the clan will simply think that I am following in my mother’s footsteps.”

“This all sounds rather nerve wracking…” Tanjirou lets out a defeated sigh before turning to look at Hayami. “But as I said, I trust your judgement.” He picks at his sleeves absentmindedly, cheeks turning pink once again. “Will we… have to act as lovers?”

“Act as lovers?” Hayami repeats after him, confused. Tanjirou coughs a little.

“I mean, behave intimately with one another,” he clarifies, the colour of his cheeks deepening. “Acts such as holding hands, or perhaps even… kissing…”

“No, not at all.” Hayami’s tone has turned sharp, and Tanjirou seems taken aback by how serious she has become. “Showing love or affection is seen as a weakness by the family, and is in direct violation of the family pledge. If they suspect that I value you as anything other than a means to produce heirs or to acquire legitimacy as the matriarch… they will certainly attempt to use you against me.”

Tanjirou nods slowly. “I see.” With every new thing he learns about Hayami’s family, the more he’s horrified that his good-natured friend was raised in such an unforgiving environment. To think Hayami suffered so much as a child, when she should have been surrounded by nothing but warmth and love… Still, all these things are already long past, and Tanjirou is helpless to change those things. What he can do, on the other hand, is to support Hayami on this mission and give her all the help she needs. Yes, that’s what he can do.

“Ah.” Hayami holds up a hand, as though only just remembering something. She glances awkwardly to the side, fingers twitching for her ponytail before she puts her hand down once more — a sure tell that she’s nervous. “I forgot to mention this, however. We will need to share a room and a bed. It is, umm, expected of married couples to, so…”

She trails off, leaving the two of them to stare awkwardly at the ground and stew in silence. Tanjirou cannot see the colour of his own face, but his cheeks feel warm enough to catch fire. Sharing a bed with someone… The only people he’s shared a futon with are his sister, Zenitsu, and sometimes Inosuke.

“I’ll, um, go ask Shinobu to contact a tailor right away.” Hayami gets to her feet quickly before the air can grow too thick with awkwardness. Tanjirou nods, unsure of what else to say, and watches Hayami disappear out of the sliding door.

Just what exactly did he get himself into?

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of preparations. Shinobu-san summons a tailor to the Butterfly Estate, who examines him all over with a measuring tape and dresses him in luxurious fabrics expensive enough to buy years worth of firewood. All the while, Hayami coaches him on the appropriate mannerisms and behaviours expected of him. Right after the fitting, the two of them leave for Warabi Village.

It’s also the first time that he travels in a car, dressed in the many layers of his ceremonial kimono. The car is a box of metal, and very much similar to the train that they ridden on not too long ago. Unlike it, however, the car is a lot smaller, and Hayami and Tanjirou must squeeze a little in the back as the vehicle makes its way to Warabi Village. A little overwhelmed by the new sights and smells, the hours-long journey passes by in nothing more than a blur.

They arrive at Warabi around sundown, right when the sun is about to set in the distance behind the mountains. The car drives through the village, and through the windows Tanjirou can see the people whispering among themselves and pointing at the car. Feeling slightly uncomfortable with all the attention, Tanjirou presses himself back into the seat and glances over at Hayami.

Unlike him, Hayami appears to be perfectly poised. Dressed in a pale lilac kimono embroidered with crystal snowflakes, she sits with her hands folded in her lap, her gaze affixed out of the window. Her long platinum hair is pulled back in an elaborate ponytail and held in place with an ornamental chopstick. She looks like a statue carved from ice.

Hayami had told her that her family were descended from nobility, but Tanjirou hadn’t noticed how vast the differences were between the two of them when they were demon slayers. Now, however…

The car stops in front of an estate. The Sumiyuri Estate, Tanjirou identifies at once the second he steps out of the car. The clan name is proudly etched into bronze plaque at the main entrance. And the estate itself… well, it’s so massive that Tanjirou is having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that it belongs to a single clan. It looks like the size of a small town by itself.

“Let’s go,” Hayami turns to him. Her eyes, while usually gentle and warm with friendliness, have become as cold as ice, as sharp as a blade. It’s a little unnerving to see her like this. But Hayami had already warned him prior that she would have to behave this way in front of her clan. So, nodding tentatively, he extends the crook of his elbow to her.

Hayami takes it with nary a nod of approval, and the two of them begin to approach the looming gates of the entrance. There are two guards stationed at the entrance — both armed with swords at their hips. Tanjirou’s hand itches for the familiar grip of his own katana, but it is back at the car with the rest of their luggage. It wouldn’t make sense for the youngest son of a wealthy family to be carrying a blade, after all.

The moment they get too close, the guards immediately pick up on their presence. One of them drops a hand to the sword at his hip. “This is the private property of the Sumiyuri Clan,” the other guard says, his voice even. “Please remove yourself from it.”

Before Tanjirou even has time to feel nervous, Hayami is already answering the guard. “Who dares to deny me access to my own property?” Her voice is cool and unbothered, as though the man that she is speaking to is nothing more than a mere inconvenience to her. The two guards exchange a look, clearly not expecting this response, before the other guard rests a hand on his sword as well.

“Miss, please—”

“I will not entertain this disrespect twice,” Hayami says coldly, her eyes narrowing. Her lips are pulled thin into a sneer of displeasure. “As dogs sitting at the gate, isn’t it your responsibility to recognise the master of your house?”

One of the guards takes a closer look at her, her lilac eyes, the long platinum hair, before he does a double take. “Lady Sumiyuri…” He shakes his head, clearly stunned. “Lady Sumiyuri Hayami?”

Hayami lets out a sharp huff, dripping with disdain. “It took you long enough to recognise me. Now, stop barking pointlessly and prepare the residence for my arrival.” She continues walking forward without another glance at the guards, her hand on his arm gently guiding him after her. “A few years without a legitimate head and this place falls to shambles, truly. How embarrassing for the proud Sumiyuri clan!”

The guards hurry to escort the two of them into the building. The floor is made out of dark wood, polished so vigorously Tanjirou can see his own reflection in every wood block, and the walls decorated with various pieces of art so abstract that Tanjirou cannot even begin to wrap his head around them.

All the while, Hayami simply stands by his side, unimpressed by the luxury that surrounds them. Servants from the inner annexes come out to greet them, bowing profusely. Tanjirou can see many of them peeking multiple times at her platinum hair.

“We deeply apologise for our lacking welcome, Clan Head Sumiyuri.” A middle aged lady bows low to them, her hands folded in supplication. From the way the servants crowd nervously behind her, she must be the higher ranking servant in the estate. “We received no notice that you… would be visiting the estate.”

Or that you were even alive at all, goes unsaid.

“Must I send a notice to visit my own house?” Hayami’s voice cuts through the air like an iron whip. The tension is suffocating. “Don’t make me laugh. Who is the rightful master of this clan?”

“You, Clan Head Sumiyuri.”

“Finally, a correct answer. I have half a mind to get rid of all the servants in this place, with how incompetent all of you are.” Tanjirou sees the collective shiver that runs through all of the servants present. “You,” Hayami points at a servant with her head bowed, “go prepare our rooms for the night. My fiance and I will be using the Head suite. If I find even a speck of dust on the floorboards…”

The servant shrinks back, before bowing. “As the Clan Head commands. I swear, it will be done!” With that, she hurries off down the corridor and out of sight.

“The rest of you, gather the rest of the clan members in the main hall. Gods know they’ve been leeching off this place for too long— no wonder the entire place smells rotten.” Hayami sniffs, twirling a lock of platinum hair around her finger. The servants hesitate, and Hayami’s eyes narrow again. “Don’t tell me that you can’t even accomplish such a simple task?”

The servants scatter like mice at Hayami’s command, leaving the head servant to escort the two of them to the main hall. They pass through corridor after corridor, the estate a maze of endless walkways and excessive opulence. By the time they reach what is presumably the main hall — the sliding screens are embroidered with gold thread — Tanjirou can already hear a commotion going on inside.

“... she was… alive…”

“... should have… made sure… killed her ourselves…”

“... didn’t you kill her..”

“... thought you did…”

Tanjirou has to resist looking at Hayami in alarm. How can they talk about having Hayami killed when she’s right on the other side of the screen? The servant clears her throat, before sliding open the door.

The doorway opens up into a large hall that Tanjirou follows the servant into. Instantly, he feels the weight of several piercing gazes on him. After having been a demon slayer for so long, Tanjirou is sensitive to the scent of what he now knows is bloodlust. And right now, the room is reeking with it.

His eyes scan the room quickly — twelve members of the clan appear to be in the hall as well, all of their eyes on the two of them. Most of them don’t even bother to conceal the looks of resentment on their faces.

“Good, it seems that everyone is already gathered here, so I won’t have to repeat myself.” Hayami tugs on Tanjirou’s arm lightly, and the two of them step into the hall. Hayami does not stop among them, however, and instead walks right past them to the raised dais at the far wall.

“Hey, what are you—”

Hayami steps comfortably onto the dais, before turning around to look at her relatives coolly. “I am Sumiyuri Hayami, the rightful head to the Sumiyuri Clan, am I not?” she asks, her tone so matter-of-fact it sounds nearly mocking. “Do you have a problem with me standing in my rightful spot?”

“You—”

“You, Clan Head? Don’t make me laugh.” Someone steps towards the dais, and instantly every nerve in Tanjirou’s body fires off warning signals. His hair and skin are strikingly pale, as though he has never once seen the sun, but what truly sets Tanjirou on edge are his eyes — so crimson that they remind Tanjirou of fresh blood.

“Nakamura.” The way Hayami hisses his name in response… it seems that her distaste for him is not purely an act. The man strides over to them, his steps slow and deliberate, like a snake stalking its prey.

“You’ve only just returned to the Clan, Lady Sumiyuri.” The man drawls, twirling his pipe between his fingers before exhaling smoke in their direction. Tanjirou’s nose wrinkles at the pungent smell. “Perhaps you should reconsider… the Clan has been running perfectly well without your presence for the last few years, after all. Perhaps your leadership is not necessary… or wanted.”

“What does that matter? As the rightful heir, I am here now.” Hayami shoots him down at once, her eyes narrowing. “Unless you have a problem with the traditions of our clan?”

“You might be in line for the position of head, but that’s all you have in terms of credentials, Hayami.” His voice sounds more like a threatening snarl now. “I bet you haven’t killed half the people I have. How can we approve of a clan head that faints at the sight of blood, hmm?”

Hayami scoffs, and takes a deep breath. One moment, she is standing next to Tanjirou, and in the next, she is holding an unfamiliar sword to Shou’s throat. She had moved so quickly that even Tanjirou is taken by surprise.

“Wait,” one of the other members cries out, “she took my blade!”

The blade presses against Shou’s throat, its razor sharp edge kissing his Adam's apple. Hayami tilts her head to stare up at the man. “Is this enough ‘credential’ for you, Shou?” she asks, pressing the blade forward just a little more. A thin line of red appears on Shou’s neck as the man swallows, his eyes burning with shame and fury. “Or do you need more ‘evidence’ of how easily I can kill a man?”

Shou grits his teeth. “... No,” he says at last, although Tanjirou is sure that is the last thing he wants leaving his lips. But Hayami isn’t done with him yet.

“No?” Hayami prompts, her voice deadly calm. “No, who?”

Shou looks like he’s about to throw a fit, but with a blade to his throat, he can’t afford to run his mouth. After what feels like minutes of teeth grinding, he finally manages to spit out, “No, Clan Head.”

“I’m glad you understand where I’m coming from.” Hayami pulls back, striding over to the shocked clan members and sheathing the sword back into the scabbard hanging from the hip of its owner. “Well then, since I’ve said everything that needs to be said, I’ll be retiring to my rooms for the night. My fiance and I are tired from our long journey.”

The rest of the clan members must still be in shock over what had happened earlier, because no one makes another noise of protest when Hayami steps down from the dais. Tanjirou follows along obediently, head lowered like Hayami had told him to. Before she leaves the room, however, Hayami pauses to look at Shou over her shoulder.

“And speaking of place… you should remember your own, Nakamura Shou.” Her voice is chilling. “The affairs of the main family have nothing to do with you.”

With that, she sweeps out of the room, with Tanjirou behind her.

It’s only in the safety and privacy of the Clan Head’s suite that Hayami finally lets out a long, deep exhale of exhaustion that seems to come from the depths of her soul. Before Tanjirou can say anything, Hayami strides over to the perfectly made futon — how had they managed to get all the wrinkles out of the sheets? — and faceplants straight into the blankets.

It’s a little jarring, to see two different sides of Hayami back to back. Tanjirou has always known her to be kind and protective. She enjoys braiding Nezuko’s hair and treats her with the gentle tenderness of an older sister. To know that this is the household she had grown up in… Tanjirou finds it difficult to wrap his head around that. And the way she had acted earlier…

At times like this, when Nezuko is feeling moody or under the weather, Tanjirou would pet her head to make her feel better. But he can’t do that to Hayami, so instead, he walks over and sits crossed legged next to her on the floor.

“Are you alright, Hayami?” he asks. Hayami makes a long, muffled noise into the blankets before flipping onto her back to look at Tanjirou.

“I’m alright, don’t worry about me.” She huffs out a tired laugh before shaking her head. “Acting like this… like my mother… is just exhausting. The thought of keeping up this little charade for the next few days until investigations are done makes me feel even more tired.”

“I hope that you can bear with it for a while longer,” an unfamiliar voice says. Tanjirou whirls around in surprise to see a stranger dressed all in black slipping in through the window. His hand instantly falls to his sword, but there’s nothing there.

“Don’t worry, he’s with me.” Hayami reassures him, standing up to greet the man. “Yoshi. How are the investigations going?”

“Finished.” The man steps into the room, eyeing Tanjirou carefully before he glances at Hayami. “Lady…”

“He’s with me, you can trust him,” Hayami tells the man. The man gives him another appraising look, and begins to speak.

“The demon in the Sumiyuri Compound is Sumiyuri Akame, second daughter of one of your uncles. She was turned two years ago, but the clan agreed to give her sanction if she was willing to massacre rival households for them.” Tanjirou’s stomach turns. “The clan loots the estate afterwards and takes away all the goods for ‘inspection’, but usually keeps the luxury items for themselves.”

“I see.” Hayami doesn’t look surprised by this news in the least. In fact, she looks like she knew all along. “Where is she being kept?”

“Under the main building, and she is usually escorted by Sumiyuri clan guards. I have also yet to discover where exactly she is being kept..” Yoshi looks at Hayami directly. “With your authority as head, however, I believe that you can summon the servants to bring the demon to you.” Hayami tugs at her hair for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, before she nods decisively.

“I’ll see what I can do, then. Carry on with your investigations and report to me as necessary.” Yoshi bows his head to her.

“As you wish, Lady Hayami.” With that, he disappears out of the window as quickly as he had come. Tanjirou stares after him, trying to process everything he’s just heard.

“That was—”

“Yakunin Yoshi. He’s one of the assassins under the Sumiyuri family.” Hayami tells him, as she returns to her seat on the futon. “He tried to kill me after I left the clan, at the behest of my remaining family members.”

“He tried to kill you?” Tanjirou repeats after her, horrified. Hayami nods, as though this is perfectly normal familial behaviour.

“They probably wanted to make sure I was dead so that they could instate someone else as clan head. Or put a proxy in place, perhaps — I have no interest in their intentions.” She shrugs. “But yes, Yoshi has been working with me for a while now. He updates me on the happenings of the clan, but it seems that even he isn’t privy to everything that goes on within these walls.”

Tanjirou still finds it difficult to wrap his head around the idea that Hayami could be working with someone who had once tried to kill her, and it must show on his face because Hayami laughs. “Thinking some difficult thoughts, Tanjirou?”

“No, well, yes.” He shakes his head. “Is it really… safe to work with someone who has attempted to kill you before? How did the two of you even… agree to cooperate?”

“Well,” Hayami begins to tug the pins out of her hair. “Yoshi’s situation is somewhat similar to yours, Tanjirou.” Before Tanjirou can question what she means by that, she continues to explain. “He is a talented assassin, yes, but he has a younger sister in the clan as well, called Naoko. She’s a meek but sweet child, and works as a maid in one of the side buildings. Yoshi has always worried about her living in a place like this.”

“Why don’t they leave?”

“No one leaves the Sumiyuri clan alive,” Hayami says matter-of-factly. Tanjirou suddenly feels a strange coldness come over him. Every time he thinks that Hayami’s childhood home is bad, it gets worse. “They didn’t bother me for a good amount of time because they thought I was dead. If they had caught wind that I was alive… they would have sent more than Yoshi to hunt me down.”

“So, he needs you to help her escape?”

“That is our arrangement, yes.” Hayami nods. “Although, I would probably have wanted to help her escape regardless. Naoko is a kind spirit. It is not good for a child to have to grow up here.”

Just like I did, goes unsaid. Tanjirou is suddenly overcome by an overwhelming urge to comfort Hayami, but he cannot find the words to say.

Before he can try, however, Hayami removes all the pins from her hair and smiles at Tanjirou. “Well, it’s been a long day,” she tells him. “We should get some rest and prepare for tomorrow.”

“Right.” Tanjirou still wants to say something, but the moment is gone. Next time, he promises himself.

The two of them change out of the many layers of their kimono and get ready for bed. Outside, the lamps have been extinguished, allowing the sole candle in their room to cast a gentle glow over the screens.

Hayami crawls under the blankets of the futon and beckons for Tanjirou to join her. He carefully follows suit, making sure to wrap his blanket tightly around himself. “Comfortable?”

“Mm, very.” Hayami nods, already yawning. She rolls on her side to look at Tanjirou for a moment, before she suddenly smiles at him. “Thank you for accompanying me here, Tanjirou. It comforts me knowing that you’re here to support me.”

“It’s nothing,” Tanjirou reassures her, and Hayami looks satisfied at his words. She closes her eyes, platinum blonde hair spilling over her pillow. “Well then, goodnight, Tanjirou.”

“Good night, Hayami.”

She falls asleep shortly after, her soft breathing washing over his ears. Tanjirou, instead, stares up at the dark ceiling for a long, long time. The mattress and blankets are the softest that Tanjirou has ever had the privilege of experiencing, however…

It is hard for him to fall asleep in this place.

A few days pass in the Sumiyuri Estate, and Tanjirou is slowly starting to get used to his role in it. Always walk around with his head bowed, preferably always be by Hayami’s side, and always let her do all the talking. He makes a few appearances at family meals — which are nothing like the family meals he used to have back home — before Hayami complains that the food tastes bad and gives them an excuse to retire to their rooms.

More than once, Hayami has told him, had the meals been poisoned. Tanjirou had almost panicked before Hayami had reassured him that she had a resistance to most poisons. This was not due to any special natural constitution, but because of the training her mother had made her undergo as a child.

“I find it a little amusing that my mother’s training is coming in handy now,” Hayami had remarked. Tanjirou, on the other hand, could find no humour in this knowledge.

That aside, things have been relatively peaceful at the Sumiyuri Estate — or rather, as peaceful as it can get in a compound inhabited by killers and a demon. The other clan members, after realising that Tanjirou is unwilling to say a word without Hayami present, have gradually learnt to leave him alone. That was a relief to both him and Hayami.

As far as Tanjirou knows, Hayami is still gathering intelligence from Yoshi and planning on how to take out the demon without the rest of her clan interfering. It is difficult, no doubt, but Tanjirou has confidence in Hayami.

Tanjirou is returning to the suite one day when he comes across the last person he had been expecting to see. Nakamura Shou stands outside the doors to the Clan Head’s suite, one hand shoved into the folds of his robes while he holds a smoking pipe in the other. He looks up when Tanjirou steps towards him, his mouth curling into a smirk. Had he been waiting for him this entire time?

“Fujiwara-san,” Shou remarks, stepping towards him. Tanjirou almost doesn’t register that the man is talking to him until he remembers that the Fujiwara clan is the cover that he and Hayami had agreed on. He hastily nods in response. “Nakamura-san.”

Tanjirou quickens his steps, intending on getting past Shou as quickly as possible when a firm hand clasps onto his shoulder. “Where are you running off to so quickly?” Shoc chuckles. He looks nothing like the day that Tanjirou had first met him. Instead, he now has a jovial smirk on his face that one might even consider charismatic. “Can’t I get to know my clan head’s fiance a little better?”

Fortunately for him, however, Hayami has already informed him about all the key members of her household — and even among all their dark and sordid deeds, Shou had stood out to Tanjirou the most. “Irreverence for life, unnecessarily cruel, endlessly ambitious,” was how Hayami had chosen to describe him. “He’s willing to lie and cheat and trample on others to get what he wants. Don’t be taken in by anything he says.”

“I’m not comfortable speaking without my fiancee present,” Tanjirou gives his best apologetic look before making to move past him. “I’m a little tired from today, so I’d like to get some rest—”

“You’re not suited for a place like the Sumiyuri Estate, you know?” Shou laughs behind him, and Tanjirou stiffens. “You’re like a rat scurrying among vipers. Don’t you feel embarrassed at all? It must be humiliating to be bowing and scraping to a woman like a dog.”

“I don’t mind,” Tanjirou answers, trying to figure out what he can say to end this conversation as quickly as possible without coming across as rude. He doesn’t trust himself not to slip up around this man. “Excuse me…”

“Especially when the woman in question is nothing more than a prostitute dressed in finery.”

Tanjirou’s hand clenches into a fist instinctively, and he has to take a quiet, deep breath to calm himself. “What exactly are you trying to imply about my fiancee with those words, Nakamura-san?”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything.” Shou laughs, shaking his head. He reaches up to take another long drag of sweet smelling smoke. “Didn’t you know? Her mother was training her to be a courtesan with the intention of getting her sold off to a noble family. If she hadn’t been so incompetent at seducing men, well, she would have been married off by now, hmm?” He pauses to look at Tanjirou with a thinly veiled smirk. “Not that I’m questioning your tastes, of course. Or hers, I suppose.”

Tanjirou wants to open his mouth and give the man the biggest dressing down he’s ever received, or at the very least to give him such a good headbutt he sees stars, but manages to resist the urge. Although this is not his mission, he cannot afford to slip up now.

“Think as you wish,” is all he manages to say, before he brushes past Shou. It’s only when he’s in the safety of the suite once more that he allows himself to sag onto the tatami, fully drained from that encounter.

“Hayami,” he mutters under his breath, “please come back soon.”

>>>>

A few more days pass, and it seems that the mission is progressing smoothly, at least on Hayami’s end. Tanjirou is starting to feel a little suffocated having to put on a timid face everywhere he goes outside of the suite, but Hayami has reassured him that everything will be sorted out soon. That is enough to make his mood brighten up a little.

He’s returning to the suite from the dining hall when he accidentally bumps into yet another stranger. To his relief, it is not Shou this time, but a servant dressed in a maid’s outfit. What is unfortunate, however, is that the tray of hot tea slips out of her hands as a result.

“Ah,” Tanjirou says in mild alarm when some of the tea splashes on his robes. The cup lies on the ground in a mess of wet shards.

“I am so, so sorry!” The maid gasps, falling to her knees straight away. From what he can see, she appears to be rather young — around Nezuko’s age, if he had to take a guess. Tanjirou is shocked by the fact that she’s trembling in fear. “Please, I didn’t mean to do it! I’m sorry for being so careless.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tanjirou says instantly, before hesitating — perhaps he wasn’t supposed to say that, but the poor girl is practically shaking. “Do you think you can stand?”

She wobbles to her feet, nearly falling once, but Tanjirou catches her before reaching down to pick up the shards. The girl gasps, immediately crouching down beside him. “Please don’t! I can do this myself, you don’t need to trouble yourself—”

“I’m fine with this as well,” Tanjirou reassures her, continuing to pick up the shards. When all of the pieces are sitting in the palm of his hand, he offers them to her. “Here you go.”

“T-thank you…” The girl’s voice trembles a little more as she takes them. “You are… um… very kind.”

Tanjirou smiles at her. “I have a younger sister who has the tendency to be a little careless as well,” he tells her. “What’s your name?”

“My name is… Naoko.” The maid’s eyes widen, before she looks down, blushing shyly. “I… I have an older brother too.”

“Oh?”

“He’s very quiet, but very kind to me.” The maid nods, carefully pocketing the shards into her pocket. At least it’s good that she’s not trembling any longer. “But I haven’t seen him for a while…”

“He’ll definitely be back for you,” Tanjirou reassures her, and she’s beginning to nod when a familiar voice interrupts them.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Tanjirou turns around to see Hayami striding up to the two of them, her expression cold and her eyes sharp. “Oh,” he frowns, a little confused by why she looks upset. Perhaps something went wrong during the meeting earlier? “I ran into the maid on accident earlier, so I was helping her pic up the shards—”

Hayami turns to the young maid. “Go,” she snaps, and the young maid lets out a little squeak, bowing her head low before scurrying off.

Tanjirou whirls around to look at Hayami, aghast. “What was that for? You didn’t have to be so short with her.”

“Haven’t I warned you about speaking to others when I’m not around?”

“Yes, but she’s not one of your family members,” Tanjirou argues back, suddenly feeling wronged. The maid that he’d met had been a good-natured person, Tanjirou is sure of that. “What’s wrong with speaking to her?”

“There’s nothing wrong—” Hayami gives up with a frustrated sigh, grabbing him by the sleeve before tugging him after her. “Let’s talk about this in the suite.”

The two of them make their way back to the clan head’s suite, where Hayami rounds on himthe second the screen slides shut behind them. “Look, Tanjirou,” she starts, her voice sharp and tight with stress, “you should have just brushed her off. The usual practice for a Sumiyuri would be to punish them severely — the fact that you acted differently will raise suspicions if the others catch wind of it!”

“There was no one around,” Tanjirou insists. Why is she so adamant on this? “She was shaking like a leaf — I couldn’t possibly leave her with the thought that she was going to be punished.”

“You could have endangered both yourself and Naoko!” Hayami retorts heatedly. “I told you before—” she cuts herself off in the middle of her sentence to stride over to a wall at the opposite side of the room, arms crossed over her chest. At first, Tanjirou is upset, but realises that she is trying to calm herself down before resuming the conversation.

Sighing, he sits on the futon and tries to calm himself as well. It’s not as though he really believes that Hayami doesn’t want to treat the young maid so callously. But was it really necessary when the maid looked so terrified?

The two of them stew in uncomfortable, awkward silence for a while. Tanjirou is about to get up to ask if Hayami is still upset when she turns around all of a sudden and walks back over to him, looking more calm now. Their eyes meet, and both of them glance away simultaneously.

“I… apologise for that,” Hayami finally says, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was out of turn earlier.”

“No, so was I.”

“No, I was…” The two of them look at each other again before laughter escapes. “This is so silly,” Hayami shakes her head, smiling. “It seems that the two of us are really ill-suited for this place.”

Tanjirou nods in agreement. Hayami sits opposite him, her expression contemplative for a moment, before she speaks. “Kindness is weakness, here in the Sumiyuri Estate. Being kind here… the rest of the clan members would see you as an easy target if they were to know of what you did today. Naoko is a maid who can be trusted, but many of the household servants are in my relatives’ pockets.” She reaches out to squeeze his hand tightly. “So even if I know it is against your nature… please try to refrain from being nice for now. For your own safety.”

When Hayami asks him this so determinedly, Tanjirou finds it difficult to refuse. “Alright,” he concedes. “I understand your point. I should follow your lead since this is your mission — I’m sorry about that. I’ve just been a bit tense, staying here for so long.” Hayami brightens up at his words.

“Oh! I have a piece of good news for you.” Hayami’s sudden excitement takes Tanjirou by surprise. “My investigations are complete, and I’ll be moving to eliminate the demon tomorrow. If everything goes well, we should be able to leave this place soon.”

“Really? That’s great to hear.” Tanjirou feels a sense of relief and pride wash over him. Of course Hayami could do it. Well, it’s not that he was doubting her in the first place as well. “You’ve done great, Hayami.”

She smiles at him. “Thank you. I have no doubt that you’re itching to get out of this place, and so am I.” She shuffles a little closer to him, and Tanjirou leans in to hear what she has to say. “Tomorrow, the compound will probably be thrown into some chaos because of my plans. I’d like you to stay in the suite while everything happens.”

Tanjirou frowns, but Hayami interrupts him before he can say another word. “Things might turn bloody, and I know that you would prefer not to see it,” she tells him gently. “I swear, I can handle myself.” She nudges his shoulder playfully. “Come on, trust me.”

“You know I do,” Tanjirou answers immediately, and Hayami’s smile brightens. “I was just worried about you.” He lets out a slow sigh. “If that is what you want, then I won’t interfere. But let me know if you need any help, alright?”

“Thank you, Tanjirou.”

The next evening, Tanjirou is about to turn in for the night by the sounds of cries and shouting.

He jerks upright in the futon. His body is tense and ready to react to the potential threat, but his mind needs a moment to catch up. Just what is happening?.

Alarm rushes through him, which is only exacerbated when the shouting outside intensifies. What if something has happened to Hayami? What if her ploy to slay the demon was discovered by her relatives?

Tanjirou races to grab his outer robe and shoves his arms through the sleeves, before rushing out of the room. He races straight towards the source of the noise, his lungs burning from the sudden exertion. Please, please don’t let anything have happened to Hayami—

“— and hence, I declare the two of you charged with treason!”

His gut instinct had been right — Hayami is indeed in the courtyard, surrounded by the rest of her kin. There are a small group of maids in the corner of the courtyard, faces pale and their heads bowed. There are two people kneeling at her feet, two people who are starting to seem more familiar with each passing second…

Yoshi and Naoko.

Tanjirou edges closer to see the commotion more clearly. Who is being charged with treason? Is this part of Hayami’s plan to lure the demon out of hiding? What is going on?

That question is soon answered when Hayami starts to speak once again. “Yakunin Yoshi and Yakunin Naoko,” the young girl kneeling in the gravel clings on to her brother, crying inconsolably. Her face is stained with tears. “Both of you have been found to be double-crossing the Sumiyuri family, and selling internal secrets to rival clans for profit. These charges are punishable by death. What do you have to say to that?”

“We did not do any of it!” Yoshi snarls at Hayami, cradling his sister protectively to his chest. “How can you just accuse the two of us like that? Investigate the claims! Show me the evidence!”

“Are you telling me that I need to present you with evidence?” Hayami scoffs, scorn dripping from every word. “I am the clan head. I have ways of obtaining my information, but I owe you nothing.”

“We haven’t…” Naoko sniffles pitifully, and Tanjirou’s heart clenches as though there is a fist tightening around it. “We haven’t done anything wrong! Why are you…” She breaks down into tears, unable to get another word out through her sobs and hiccups.

Hayami, however, is unmoved — as though her heart is made of stone. She gestures for a servant, and he comes forward bearing a sword which she takes from him. It’s not her nichirin sword, Tanjirou somehow notices amidst the chaos. Hayami gives the blade a cursory glance, testing the edge with the tip of her finger, before turning back to the pair of siblings.

“As the new clan head, I will set an example to all of my family right here, right now,” Hayami declares out loud. Her strong voice carries her words clearly over to Tanjirou. “Both of you shall be executed for treason today!”

Tanjirou feels as though his feet are rooted to the ground. What is happening? How can Hayami be accusing Yoshi of treason? He clearly saw the two of them working together, with the man providing Hayami with information about the demon. Hayami had even said that she wanted to save both him and his sister from this place — has she somehow forgotten all of that?

This is completely different, compared to slaying demons. When he has an encounter with one of the monsters who have spent years killing humans and eating their flesh, his sword is straight and unwavering — there is no hesitation in his strikes. He has witnessed bloodshed, death and loss. But to see someone who he trusts — or thought he trusted — hold a sword to an innocent person’s throat, that is something different altogether.

No, no. This has to be part of Hayami’s plan. Something will happen that will save the two of them, and…

Hayami swings her sword with two quick slashes, and red spurts from the two siblings. Naoko crumples, followed by her brother, blood seeping into the bone white gravel around them. The thick, heavy tang of iron hangs in the air, and Tanjirou feels as though he cannot breathe.

For a moment, all is silent.

It is broken by the sound of slow clapping, and Tanjirou looks up to see Shou applauding slowly. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes. “It seems that you have more guts than I thought you were capable of, Lady Hayami.” He glances at the two bodies lying in the courtyard. “Although, lady would be a bit of a stretch now, wouldn’t it?”

“You,” Hayami says shortly, returning her blade to the servant, “will address me as Clan Head, so whether I am being called lady or not is of no consequence to me.” Before Shou can make another pithy remark, she turns to the servants. “The two of them are not yet dead, and death by the sword is too merciful of a punishment for them. Fetch me the thing in the basement. I’ll have it deal with what’s left of them.”

One of Hayami’s relatives makes an audible gasp of shock. “You knew…?” Hayami laughs, the sound high and cruel.

“Did you take me for a fool, uncle?” she retorts coolly, and the servants scurry off to obey her bidding. “I will make the beast submit to me personally today, so that it will be chained to the will of our clan. As for the rest of you,” she dismisses them with a flick of her wrist, “get out of here.”

The servants usher the rest of the family members out of the courtyard, and as Tanjirou allows himself to be led out with the rest of them, he overhears the other members of the clan speaking of Hayami’s impressive display of ruthlessness and steel. “This will surely spell a great decade of prosperity for us, if she doesn’t die in the courtyard with that demon, at least,” one man chuckles to his partner.

“Those two traitors deserve a death far more terrible, in my opinion,” another one pipes up.

Naoko’s shy smile burns in Tanjirou’s mind, juxtaposed over the image of her cheeks stained with tears and her lips splattered with blood.

Tanjirou wants to throw up.

Hayami stands in the courtyard alone, glancing down at the two wounded people lying on the ground in front of her. Just a while more, she promises. It’ll all be over soon.

“Clan Head, we have brought the demon.”

She turns around to see a pair of Sumiyuri clan guards pulling something along with them — a demon, with a thick metal collar around its neck. She — no, it —growls and snarls at her, saliva dripping from its jaws. So this is the demon that her family has been harbouring all this time.

Its skin is bone white, the colour of ash, and there are a pair of feline ears perched on its head. Orange-yellow eyes glow at her like a pair of burning lamps in the darkness of the night. Hayami recognises the look in her eyes, a hungry, desperate gaze that devours everything in its path.

Red lines decorate its face, reminding Hayami of a tiger on the prowl for prey. Upon seeing her, the demon snarls and tries to lunge, but the guards force it back with their metal chains and burning torches.

“Very well.” Hayami gestures to the guard, and he secures the end of the chain to a large nail driver into the ground before backing away hurriedly. “Leave us.”

The two guards scramble out of the courtyard as quickly as possible, leaving Hayami alone in the courtyard with the demon. Behind them, the doors to the courtyard swing shut. Hayami waits until she hears a heavy thump — the sound of the door being held shut by a bronze bar, before turning back to the demon.

“So, you’re the one who all the fuss has been about,” Hayami comments mildly, as she takes a step closer to the demon. It tries to lunge forward, but the metal chain around its neck prevents it from getting too near. Hayami stares at it for a while, wondering if she remembers any of her relatives with the name Akame… and finds herself empty handed.

Well, even if she had remembered, Hayami doesn’t have any love for her family in the least. The most she can give the demon now is a quick and merciful death.

Turning around, Hayami makes her way to where she’d stashed her nichirin sword behind a large rock in the courtyard. The demon seems to recognise the nichirin steel instinctively, because it begins to howl and scrape at the metal holding it in place. A pitiful sight, really, but Hayami does not waver in the least.

“I hope that you’re reborn into a better life,” Hayami says, before she cuts down with a quick slash of her sword. The edge of her blade cuts through the demon’s neck like butter.

The demon screams and falls to the ground with a heavy thump. Hayami doesn’t have to look over her shoulder to know that her blade has severed its head cleanly from its neck. Instead, she rushes over to where Yoshi is lying prone and the ground and begins to shake him vigorously.

“It’s over,” she says sharply, and Yoshi’s eyes immediately fly open. “The demon has been killed. We must move quickly — there is no time to waste.”

Yoshi springs to his feet, rushing over to the trees where the spare demon slayer uniform they had prepared is hidden. Naoko takes a moment longer to rise, her feet trembling a little as she wipes the tears from her eyes. “Did I do well, Hayami-sama?”

Hayami smiles at her warmly — she had wanted to do that, ever since that incident she had been forced to be harsh with her. Yoshi had chosen not to tell her anything until the last moment, fearing that his sister would not be able to keep such a big secret. He and Hayami are somewhat similar in that respect, Hayami thinks to herself ruefully. “You did beautifully, Naoko,” Hayami says reassuringly, reaching up to pat the top of the young girl’s head. Her face flushes slightly despite the tears. “Now go, and don’t look back. Be safe, alright?”

“Yes, Hayami-sama!” With that, Naoko casts one more fleeting look at her brother before fleeing in the direction of the side gate. With all the guards removed from their posts (she had summoned them into the courtyard earlier to bear witness to the execution), Naoko should be able to escape without hindrance.

“Is she gone?” Hayami turns around to see Yoshi striding up to her, doing up the final buttons on his uniform. The black demon slayer’s uniform looks good on him, Hayami thinks, and she hands him a blond wig. When he’s put it on, even Hayami nearly doesn’t recognise him. She’s almost impressed by her own work.

“Here,” she holds out her nichirin sword to him. “You know what to do?”

“Of course.” Yoshi takes it with a firm nod.

“You look as though you would make a good demon slayer,” Hayami jibes in an attempt to lighten the mood. Yoshi looks at her seriously. “If Naoko and I make it out of here successfully, I’ll consider it.”

“Oh?” Hayami is both surprised and a little amused. “I look forward to seeing you joining our ranks soon, then.”

“Alright, enough jokes,” Yoshi glances at the side gate before he returns his gaze to the closed doors of the courtyard. He’s definitely worried about his sister. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Hayami nods and waits until he’s suitably near the treeline, before she takes a slow, deep breath…

… and lets out a piercing scream.

“Guards!” She yells, trying to sound as furious as possible. “Guards, what are you doing? Get here, now!”

A few minutes later, the Sumiyuri clan guards hurriedly rush into the courtyard just in time to see the remains of Akame fading to ash and Yoshi scrambling over the wall of the courtyard. They’re followed by a few clan members and… Tanjirou? Didn’t she ask him to stay in the suite regardless of the circumstances? Hayami’s heart drops when she sees him, but she cannot afford to drop the act now.

Instead, she turns to the guards, baring her teeth. “You incompetent fools!” Hayami shrieks, getting up in their faces. “How could you allow a demon slayer to infiltrate your ranks? He’s gone and done it! How are all of you going to take responsibility for this?”

One guard is brave (or foolhardy) enough to speak up, voice shaking. “Done… what?” Hayami rolls her eyes to high heaven, but she is secretly glad that the guard asked. It makes it much easier to explain the situation.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” she snarls, rounding on the guard. The man shrinks back before her. “A demon slayer infiltrated the guards and killed our newest source of income! He saw everything — how the demon ate those two servants before he slayed it! Why did you let him get away?”

“Clan Head, we couldn’t possibly—” Hayami cuts off his words with a firm slap and the guard reels back in shock, one hand clasped to his reddening cheek.

“You dare to give me excuses?” Hayami snaps, raising her voice. “If he reports back to his superiors, those bothersome demon slayers definitely will not give up on searching our estate until they find evidence of us harbouring a demon. Think of all the trouble that will bring us!” With that, she turns and storms off in the direction of the main building. The guards, all too terrified to chase after her, allow her to leave without any issue.

She makes a beeline straight towards the clan head’s suite, and only when she is inside does she allow herself to slump against the wall, completely exhausted. Playing all her family members is one thing, but to keep up that facade in front of so many people, Tanjirou included, was exhausting…

Tanjirou!

Hayami has barely had time to panic when the door to the clan head’s suite slides open once more to reveal Tanjirou standing behind them. He eyes Hayami as he walks in, and Hayami instantly knows that she needs to fix this right away. Tanjirou looks furious — it’s the same expression he makes when coming face to face with a particularly sadistic demon, or when he’s enraged with good reason. Hayami has never seen this look directed at her before, and it makes her stomach churn uncomfortably.

Tanjirou slides the door shut behind him, and takes a deep breath before staring at Hayami. “Tell me,” his voice is painfully even. “You promised— you promised me that you would only kill humans with no humanity. How could you get Yoshi and Naoko killed just to lure the demon out?”

Hayami holds up both hands. “Tanjirou,” she says slowly, trying to keep her tone calm. “Please, calm down. I can explain everything.” To be honest, this side of Tanjirou is scaring her a little, even though she knows that he would never try to hurt her in a million years.

Tanjirou stares at her for a while before he exhales sharply. “I don’t know if I can trust that,” he mutters under his breath, but the sentence hurts Hayami all the same. The two of them have been friends for so long — does he really think that she would do such a thing?

“I didn’t kill Yoshi and Naoko,” Hayami begins to explain. “What I did was—”

The knock outside the window startles the both of them, but Hayami immediately lets out a sigh of relief when she realises who it is. “Come in.”

Yoshi slips into the room like a shadow a few seconds later, taking a moment to brush the leaves from his clothes — he’s still wearing the demon slayer uniform that he’d escaped in, but the wig is gone. “Lady Hayami,” he greets her bluntly.

Tanjirou gasps at the sight of a dead — well, supposedly dead — man walking. “What—”

Yoshi holds out Hayami’s nichirin blade to her. “Take it.” He glances at Tanjirou, seems to realise what had been going down before he had come in, and looks at Hayami. “Was I interrupting something?”

Hayami takes her sword from him. “No, no.” Yoshi gives her a longer stare, before he shrugs. “As you say. I have found the provisions in the forest, and will be leaving soon with my sister.” He hesitates for a moment before he speaks once more, this time bowing his head to Hayami. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my sister and I, Lady Hayami.”

“It was no problem at all,” Hayami reassures him gently as he makes his way back to the window. “Make sure to take care of your sister well, alright?”

“That goes without saying.” Yoshi pauses with one foot on the window to bow his head once more. “I wish you all the best, Lady Hayami.”

“You as well.”

With that, Yoshi disappears out of the window. Hayami stares after him for a while before turning back to Tanjirou, who looks unsurprisingly confused. “What… how is he alive?” Tanjirou asks, stepping closer to the window as well. “Is Naoko alright as well?”

“Yes, she is. If everything goes well, she and Yoshi should escape the town by tomorrow and the Sumiyuri family will never find them again.” Hayami nods. “I learnt that the demon is only summoned by the clan to slaughter rival clans or to finish off misbehaving servants — feeding her more will make her stronger, after all, and there’s nothing that the clan wants more than power. So we came up with this plan to lure her out.”

Tanjirou rubs his head. Things are starting to fall together, piece by piece, but there are still parts that do not make sense just yet. “The blood that I saw…”

“Sheep’s blood. I had bags of them prepared, and both Naoko and Yoshi had them strapped to their chests before the entire incident occurred. We had to make sure the slash looked real.” Hayami glances out of the window. “If the two of them want to escape the Sumiyuri estate, then there must be enough reason for the clan to believe that they are dead. As an assassin on the Sumiyuri clan’s payroll, he knows too many secrets to be left alive.”

“So you decided to do all that…” Tanjirou says slowly, “to kill two birds with one stone?”

Hayami nods. The two of them sit there for a long moment in silence, as Tanjirou tries to process everything that Hayami has just told him. Truly, her acting had been so convincing that even Tanjirou had felt himself doubting whether he had truly known her at all. But he supposes… well, he supposes that he should have chosen to trust her.

“I…” Tanjirou takes a deep breath. “I am sorry. For rushing to conclusions, and not giving you a chance to explain. I’m sorry.”

Hayami shakes her head. “The fault was mine too,” she admits ruefully. “I could have— I should have told you. You’re on this mission with me, after all.”

Tanjirou hesitates. “Why didn’t you?”

“After that fight about Naoko, I didn’t want you to see me acting like that again in front of the entire clan,” Hayami explains. Her fingers fiddle nervously with the ends of her hair. It’s hard to be so vulnerable like this, especially after such an emotionally charged day. But it’s Tanjirou, and if she cannot be honest with him, then who else? “I told you to stay in the room and I didn’t think that you would leave, so I thought I wouldn’t have to explain a thing.”

They stay silent for a while after that, each taking some time to process through everything properly. In the end, it’s Tanjirou who breaks the silence. “I think it’s just… sad. And upsetting.” His eyes are downcast. “That you had to grow up in such a terrible place. The thought that you had to endure all of this for so many years…”

He trails off, but Hayami understands, even without the words. And the fact that he feels so deeply for her, even though he’s never had to experience it himself… well, that makes Hayami’s heart feel very soft and warm on the inside.

She reaches out to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Honestly, I don’t think that I suffered very much. Of course, I’m probably only saying that because it’s over.” A light laugh escapes her. “But I’m used to it, and it has made me stronger. And if it means I can save more innocent lives because of it…” Hayami smiles at Tanjirou. “Then I feel as though all that pain I endured wasn’t without reason.”

Only those who have gone through great adversity can grow truly strong, and the same is reflected by most, if not all of the Pillars in the demon slayer corps.

Tanjirou looks at her for a while longer, before he suddenly shakes his head and laughs. “You know, you’re really cool, Hayami.” She blinks at him, caught off guard by the sudden praise.

“Ah?”

“I mean, the fact that you can still have such a positive outlook on everything you’ve been through, I think it’s quite amazing.” Tanjirou tells her. Her cheeks turn warm and she glances away for a moment, unsure. What is going on with her, really?

“Well, since we’ve finished what we came here to do, shall we go now?” she suggests, in an attempt to cover up the colour on her cheeks. Tanjirou’s eyes widen.

“We can leave? Just like that?” he asks, looking hilariously (and adorably) confused. “Aren’t you the head of the clan now?

Hayami beams, nodding. “Yeah, of course! I’ll just have anyone who opposes that killed.” At that, Tanjirou’s face goes flat, and Hayami can’t help the laugh that escapes her.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she winks at him. “How about we elope together?”

“Hayami…”

Hayami laughs again, and suddenly, even though she is still in the place that she has hated more than any other… things suddenly feel bright and warm once again. She glances at Tanjirou. If only she had someone like him by her side while growing up… perhaps things would have been more tolerable back then.

But he is here now, and that is enough for her to be content.

#demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kny fanfic #kamado tanjirou #kny tanjiro kamado #commission

[wisteriashouse]

3.4 lantern rite log

[context for the 3rd one]

#xiao is so cute i want to gnaw him #truly his vocabulary is just made out of 'uhs'

[wisteriashouse]

the real jing yuan experience

#fk em #also might turn into a hsr blog soon who knows oho

[wisteriashouse]

a flower just for you.

pairing: the wanderer x izanami yuzurin (oc)

genre: genshin; romance;

word count: 16163

a/n: thank you for the commission! @hinokami-s

The flowers have grown well again this season.

Yuzurin carefully checks over the blossoms in her arms once, twice, thrice as she makes her way through Sumeru City. One of the Sumeru Roses is a little bruised from a prior scuffle with a Eremite mercenary, but it will be fine for medicinal uses. The Bimarstan had been hit by a shortage — a whopperflower had been found growing in one of the fields nearby, how had that even happened — and they had ended up putting in an emergency order with her just less than a couple of days ago.

By any other flower merchant’s standards, such a short time frame would be ridiculous, if not outright impossible to meet. Still, if Yuzurin’s flowers can help to synthesise vital medicine, then she will do everything in her power to help. And being fortunate enough to be blessed with a Dendro Vision, Yuzurin’s power is significant enough to make a difference.

Same goes for these flowers. A little Dendro energy sprinkled here and there, and these bruised petals will be as good as new!

Sumeru City is quiet as Yuzurin makes her way through the winding paths and streets of the lower levels, waving awkwardly to the occasional familiar merchant or scholar she passes by.

“Yuzurin!”

Yuzurin startles at the sound of her name. The voice is bright and quick, like glimpses of morning sunlight falling through the verdant canopy, but most importantly, it is familiar. She turns around, her expression brightening when she comes face to face with its owner. “Paimon!”

The white haired fairy swoops over to her at once, leaving a trail of sparkling constellations and her companion in her wake. “It’s so surprising to see you here, Yuzurin!” Paimon is an unstoppable torrent of words and cheer, and her eyes sparkle like a splash of stars in the night sky as she speaks. “What are you doing in Sumeru City? Paimon thought you were the type to never leave the forest!”

As much as Yuzurin feels like she should deny it, Paimon is right. She doesn’t interact too often with the cityfolk, instead preferring the isolated tranquillity of Avidya Forest. The Kirin are, by nature, a reclusive and solitary race, but fate sometimes decides to cross her path with those of others, and a handful of those shine bright in her memories. People such as this one.

“It’s good to see you, Yuzurin.” The Traveler walks over from Hamawi’s general goods store, a half eaten Zaytun peach in a gloved hand. His smile, however, quickly turns concerned. “Although I’m not sure what has brought you to the city. Did something happen to the forest again? Do you need our help?”

The first (and also last) time they had met, Aether had helped her restore parts of the Apam Woods that had been dying. A disgraced scholar from the Akademiya had decided to continue her research there, and needless to say, her experiments had gone wayward, causing entire swathes of land to diminish and wither. Yuzurin had been on the brink of exhaustion holding the filth back when the Traveler had quite literally stumbled into her.

He’d later told her, after helping to drive the Withering away, that he had been attempting to locate three Nilotpala lotuses for a commission. Yuzurin had then helpfully pointed out that those elusive flowers grew nowhere close.

“Oh, no, no, the forest is doing fine, thanks to your help.” She gestures to the woven basket in her arms. “I’m in the City to deliver some flowers to the Birmarstan. There was an, er, incident with a whopperflower in one of their fields.”

Paimon’s face immediately scrunches up at that. “Oh yeah! And a real rude whopperflower it was too!” She shakes her tiny fists. “Stealing all the nutrients… and it even tore up the field it was growing in! Gurgen and Vargen had to spend days raking the damage over.”

“It was a commission from the Adventurers’ Guild,” the Traveler supplies helpfully when he sees the look of bewilderment on Yuzurin’s face. “Anyway, we’re here on an errand as well.” He nods upwards in the direction of the Divine Tree. “There’s some research we need to do regarding Tatarasuna, and the downfall of the Inazuman swordsmithing arts.”

Yuzurin bites her lip. Although she had preferred not to stray far from Chinju Forest back then, news of the black miasma of Tatarasuna had spread across all of the three islands. It had been terrifying news at the time, even with the warrior God Baal acting as the Raiden Shogun. After uprooting herself from Inazuma and leaving to venture Teyvat, however, the mystery of the Mikage Furnace’s collapse had never come to mind again.

Paimon turns to Yuzurin, as though struck by a similar thought. “Right! Yuzurin, you used to be from Inazuma, and you’re old — like, really old, right? Would you know anything about what happened to the Isshin Art? ”

“Paimon,” the Traveler begins, an admonishing tone in his voice, but Yuzurin waves him off with a quick laugh. “Oh, it’s alright, Traveler. She’s right — I am centuries old. Unfortunately, I don’t know much about the Isshin Art. Kirin are peaceful creatures by nature, and we don’t enjoy having anything to do with death or weaponry or war. I’m afraid I won’t be of much use in this regard.”

“It’s no problem—” The Traveler’s words suddenly falter mid-sentence, brows drawing together and his mouth drawing into a hard line. Yuzurin feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. As a Kirin, she can pick up on the sensation of danger better than most, and she has never seen the Traveler look so tense. Not even when he had been ambushed by a hoard of Fungi on his own.

She follows his line of vision just in time to see a dark veil swishing behind a large tree root, vanishing from sight. Frowning, Yuzurin takes a step closer. The patterns on that veil had seemed distinctively Inazuman, but it is not that that has captured her attention.

“He seems… familiar to me.”

“He what?” Yuzurin flinches back at the volume of Paimon’s exclamation, startled. The words had slipped from her mouth before she had run them through her mind, but surely just recognising someone shouldn’t warrant such a response.

“Paimon,” the Traveler says warningly, and the small fairy puts both hands over her mouth at once. “I’m sorry, Yuzurin,” she says, her words muffled by her palms. Something tells Yuzurin that this happens often.

“He can’t be up to any good here,” the Traveler says shortly, starting to walk in the direction the mysterious man had disappeared in. “It seems like he was headed to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Yuzurin, where do you remember seeing that man?”

She is a little confused by the sudden seriousness that seems to have settled over the atmosphere, but answers his question anyway. “When I first settled in Sumeru not long ago, some rumours about me being an auspicious creature spread among the natives. The Fatui caught wind of this, and one of the Harbingers sent men after me.”

The memory is enough to send a shiver through her, despite the warm and humid morning. She can still remember that day clearly in that mind, can still feel the phantom fear and terror crawling through her veins. The gods were truly smiling upon her when she managed to escape that day.

The Traveler frowns as the three of them continue to ascend the levels of the Divine Tree. “The Harbinger… was he the man that you saw earlier?”

“No.” Yuzurin shakes her head. “The Harbinger who was hunting me was a pale man with a masked face. I believe that his subordinates call him the… Doctor?”

Paimon makes a face at that, before flying over to pat at Yuzurin’s head gently. “Il Dottore is a terrible, awful, extremely bad man.” Paimon clarifies, looking as though she’d like nothing more than to bite off the man’s fingers. “He tried to capture the Aranara in the forest for experiments too!”

The Aranara had told her about that as well, the ones that affectionately call her by the name Rinara. Although they might be from different lands, the nature spirits of every region tend to see each other as kindred, and that goes for herself and the mysterious children of the forest.

“It’s fortunate that I was not captured,” Yuzurin tells the Traveler. “The man we saw earlier — the memories are not as fresh as they were yesterday, but I am very sure that he is the one who saved me. He saw me in the forest, when I was hiding from those Fatui, and turned a blind eye to my presence”

This time, the Traveler does not bother to chide his companion when she lets out a piercing “He what?” right by his ear. Instead, he looks at Yuzurin with a strange, contemplative expression on his face. “So the Balladeer did that, did he?”

“The Balladeer?” The title sits strangely on her tongue. The Balladeer. The word is unfamiliar to her, neither native to her homeland, nor Sumeru, nor any of the places that she had come across on her travels.

“The Balladeer, no, Scaramouche, no! Kunikuzushi—” Paimon vigorously gestures in the air, a noise of frustration leaving her mouth, “is the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers! The same organisation that the Doctor belongs to!”

Yuzurin blinks at that, surprised and confused and suddenly uncomfortable all at once. Kunikuzushi. That is undoubtedly a name of Inazuman origin. “You mean… the man we saw earlier, the one you call Balladeer,” her head aches suddenly, for some sort of strange, inexplicable reason, “he is working together with the Doctor?”

“Yes!” Paimon nods vigorously, but then pauses before proceeding to correct herself. “Well, was. They’ve had a little bit of a, uh, falling out recently.”

“The Balladeer left the Fatui,” the Traveler summarises shortly as they approach the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “Still, I wouldn’t recommend interacting with him — there’s a lot that we still don’t know about his motives.”

Although Yuzurin might not have known the Traveler for a very extended period of time, this much she knows: the Traveler is both a person and a judge of good character. As the saying goes, like recognises like. If the Traveler says to stay away from someone, Yuzurin should listen.

Still, as the two of them approach the entrance to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, she cannot shake the feeling of familiarity. Had she perhaps remembered wrongly? Or mistaken his face? But she shakes her head quickly, determined to dispel her doubts. Yuzurin is a Kirin, a species destined for immortality. She does not think that she would forget the face of her saviour so readily.

“Let’s enter.” The Traveler’s fingers flex, a telltale sign of any warrior ready to reach for their sword. The Balladeer must truly be a menace, if the sight of him causes the ever placid Traveler to resort to such measures. “Yuzurin, you should stay behind me. I heard from Yae Miko that Kirin are susceptible to blood and the like.”

So he knows. Truly, the Traveler is a kind person who is considerate of the people around him. Yuzurin nods and moves behind the Traveler. “Still,” she promises, “I will fight to the death if need be, to keep both of you safe. I assure you that I’m not simply a symbol of peace and fortune.” She holds out a hand, and her polearm materialises in it. The edge still shines as sharp as the day Susano had gifted it to her, centuries and centuries ago. “May the gods see this vow of mine.”

The Traveler looks surprised by the force of her determination, but smiles. “Then, I’ll be counting on you to watch my back, Yuzurin.”

“Paimon too! Paimon will, uhh, watch your heads!”

The Sanctuary of Surusthana is quiet when they enter. The interior is like nothing that Yuzurin has ever encountered before, a single swooping bridge linking them to a central area, shaped like the innermost bud of a flower. The air glows a faint green, imbued with a power that makes even the hairs on the back of Yuzurin’s neck prickle, her hidden antlers shift with a phantom itch.

“Traveler, Paimon.” Yuzurin looks up at the voice to see a short woman — no, a child — standing before them. Her hair is white as the petals, her eyes as green as forests, the curve of her smile lovely and gentle. Those verdant eyes settle on Yuzurin as she speaks. “You have brought a friend with you today.”

At the sound of her voice, the Dendro vision attached to her belt responds, heat radiating off it through the fabric of her clothes. Yuzurin instantly knows just who is standing before her. She might not bear the same ethereal elegance as Makoto or wield oppressive dominance like Ei, but her voice is aged and warm all at once with a gentle wisdom that seems to speak straight into her soul.

“Lesser Lord Kusanali.” Yuzurin’s tongue nearly fumbles over the words, a mixture of nerves and unfamiliarity. Although it has been some time since she had come to settle down in Sumeru, this is her first time meeting its Archon face to face. She automatically drops into a formal greeting, bending down so that her face is parallel with the ground. “It is a great honour to meet the Blessed One of Wisdom, Mahakusaladhamma, in person.”

“Blessed One of Wisdom, what?” Paimon shakes her head vigorously before turning to the Dendro Archon. “Now’s no time for stuffy introductions. Nahida, we just saw the Balladeer, strolling around in public!” Yuzurin frowns. Nahida? “Did he escape? Or did he— ah!”

Yuzurin’s body responds to Paimon’s exclamation of panic, stepping forward so that she is squarely placed between Paimon and the threat. And when she looks up, she sees herself staring up into a pair of familiar yet unfamiliar eyes — eyes that she would never forget.

For a second, she’s transported back to that terrifying moment in the forest. The rain was falling hard, each droplet striking her skin like iron bullets. She had crashed through the undergrowth of the Ardravi Valley, praying desperately to the gods above that the rain would wash away the trail of blood she was leaving behind. And when her eyes had met that cold blue gaze amidst the downpour, she had believed herself at the end of her life — until his stare had slid over her and he’d continued on his path, as easily as the wind glancing past her cheek.

He had seen her that day, Yuzurin is sure of that. And today as well, his eyes widen ever so slightly in recognition before they melt into that cool, disinterested gaze once again. As though he had never once seen her at all.

“What are you doing in the Sanctuary of Surasthana!?” Paimon cries, shaking an accusing finger at the man. “Aren’t you supposed to be locked up?” Next to her, the Traveler holds out a hand — and his sword materialises in his grip. Yuzurin recognises that gaze, the intent. He’s ready to clash blades.

Yuzurin takes a step back, unease and anxiety running through her. She feels as though she has stepped into the middle of a situation she doesn’t quite understand, one that is escalating far too quickly for her liking. Fortunately, Lesser Lord Kusanali puts a stop to things before they can spiral out of control.

“I know you must have a lot of questions. Please, allow me to answer them. Peacefully,” she says this with a meaningful look in the Traveler’s direction, and after a moment he gives in, straightening up and letting his weapon disappear.

The Dendro Archon then turns to Yuzurin. “Apologies for the confusion. There’s no need to be scared — no one here will harm you.” She glances over the two parties in the sanctuary before returning her gaze to Yuzurin. “Still, I’m afraid that I must ask you to excuse us. There is some important business that I have with the Balladeer and the Traveler that must be attended to.”

Yuzurin glances over at the Traveler, and he nods reassuringly. “We’ll be alright,” he promises. “I’ll come visit you in the forest once we’re done here.”

Well, it’s not quite like she can defy the request of an Archon, so she takes a hesitant step back. “Then, I’ll be waiting.” Her gaze meets the Balladeer’s once more, and she takes another step back before turning around.

The second she leaves the Sanctuary, the immense pressure on her shoulders lifts at once. As expected, the presence of an Archon and two extraordinarily powerful characters in a single room, coupled with all that tension, was far too much for her to handle. Yuzurin doesn’t know what to make of this Balladeer that she’d just met, but the Traveler did promise to look for her after their business was concluded, so Yuzurin will believe in him for now.

She has almost made her way out of Sumeru City, the encounter still playing and replaying itself in her mind, when she realises that her arms are still filled with roses that she has yet to deliver.

>>>

Hours later in the Avidya Forest, Yuzurin is still unable to get the interaction out of her mind, even when she tries to distract herself with cultivating the Nilotpala lotuses in the lake. Usually, standing knee deep in the cool waters tends to clear her mind no matter how muddled it may be, but today it just doesn’t seem to be working like it always does.

Her mind keeps returning to that encounter. The open hostility he was wearing, that cold stare, the near overwhelming animosity between him and the Traveler… Yuzurin can’t get it out of her mind. Leaning down, she absentmindedly brushes Dendro energy over a lotus — and startles backwards when the bright blue petals burst open to reveal a golden core. She quickly coaxes it back into closing (they aren’t supposed to bloom in the day, after all), shaking her head. She really needs to clear her mind of… of…

…Of what?

Yuzurin pauses, her fingertips lingering on the flower petals. She can feel her face scrunching up instinctively in confusion. “What— what was I thinking about?”

Try as she might, she cannot recall exactly what had been on her mind — it feels like a dream that has disappeared with the coming of the morning light, smoke slipping between her outstretched fingers. She continues about her day with a strange feeling of emptiness hanging over her head, and when the sun finally begins to set behind the clouds, Yuzurin decides to set out to search for someone she can talk to about it.

The Aranara Arayash is standing at his usual post next to the Statue of Seven when Yuzurin reaches New Vanarana. Not many are able to pass through the veil to reach the Home of the Aranara, but as fellow nature spirits, the Aranara have always been welcoming, even to a foreigner such as herself.

“Nara Rinara,” Arayash looks up as Yuzurin approaches. He looks the same, green and tough and protective, with the exception of the club he keeps in his right hand. Maybe he’s changed the rock out for a new one.

“Still standing guard here, Arayash?” Yuzurin smiles. It’s a silly question, since the answer never changes, but Yuzurin likes that. It’s a little ritual of sorts, between the two of them.

“This is the stone of the Lord of Trees and the Lord of Dendro! It's very important!” Arayash nods his head determinedly. “Are you here to see Arapacati?”

Yuzurin shakes her head. “Not Arapacati specifically, no. I just wanted to speak to someone about something.” At that, Arayash glances around for a second, as though checking for any dangers nearby, before putting his club down.

“Arayash is here.” He tells Yuzurin seriously. “Does Nara Rinara want to speak?”

At his blunt question, Yuzurin smiles. Although Arayash is often curt with his words, his heart is pure and clean, as are all the Aranara’s. “Thank you, Arayash.” She moves to sit cross legged in front of him, allowing her antlers to slip out. A groan of relief escapes her when she does. Hiding her true form isn’t painful, but it does get tiring after a while.

“Have you ever felt,” Yuzurin begins, “as though a memory has been taken from you?”

Arayash’s expression doesn’t change, but Yuzurin has known him long enough to know that he is carefully thinking through her question. “The loss of memory is common for Nara.” Arayash tells her after a while, his voice matter-of-fact. “Most Nara lose their dreams when they become big Nara. Big Nara forget their memories as small Nara.”

“No, not over a period of time.” Yuzurin bites her lower lip, glancing up at the sky. Night has fallen and the sky is cloudless. New Vanarana is now illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. “I meant, all of a sudden, for an immortal species such as myself. That’s not normal, is it?”

Arayash shakes his head. “Long-life creatures like the Aranara do not lose their memories unless they return them to Sarva or become Vasara Trees.” He glances at Yuzurin. “I do not know if it is similar, for the Kirin.”

Yuzurin sighs. The Aranara are some of the most knowledgeable when it comes to the subject of dreams, memories and such. Only the Avatar of the Irminsul herself, Lesser Lord Kusanali, could claim to understand this topic more intimately. If even the Aranara do not know, then it cannot be helped.

“I am sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault.” Yuzurin tells him at once. Arayash looks at her for a while more before reaching over to pick up his club once more.

“I cannot help with Nara Rinara’s memory,” Arayash says, pointing down the little dirt path leading deeper into Vanarana. “But Arayash’s fellow Aranara can make Nara Rinara feel better. Arapacati spoke of cooking training with her brothers earlier, dishes they learnt from Nara Varuna. Nara Rinara should speak to them, before they argue and Arapacati kicks them out of Vanarana again.”

Yuzurin laughs at that as she gets to her feet. She still remembers the day that Arapacati had come to her, telling her of how she had thrown Arasaka, Araphalas, Arapas and Arachatora out of Vanarana. “Is that so? I should get there quickly before Arasaka burns down their house again.”

Arayash nods seriously. “Yes. Nara Rinara is not scared of fire, like the Aranara are.”

Smiling, Yuzurin begins to start down the path. While her problem might not be solved just yet, her heart feels lighter already. “Thank you, Arayash!”

“Goodbye, Nara Rinara. The Lord of Trees and Lord of Dendro will watch over you.”

>>>

After that talk with Arayash, Yuzurin has decided to put the unsettling feeling of forgetfulness out of her mind to focus on other things that need her more direct attention. One, for example, being the moving of Dendro infused Sumeru roses that she has been growing. The rainforest gets high levels of precipitation all year round, but after the strange lightning storm that happened a few weeks back, the weather has been difficult for even a nature spirit such as Yuzurin to predict.

Today, Yuzurin hurries to the lower levels of the Devantaka mountains, where she’d left her roses growing. The downpour is heavier than usual, and Yuzurin must move the flowers to a drier spot before they soak up too much water and render all her careful cultivation fruitless. From the looks of it, the rain might even leave the lower valleys of the forest flooded. She needs to be quick.

She makes her way down into the valley under the watchful eye of the fallen Ruin Guard, holding a waxed-paper umbrella over her head and a woven basket in her other hand. The Sumeru roses sit in the little plot of land that she had dug for them, their vibrant violet-pink petals drooping under the weight of the excess water.

“Sorry for being late,” Yuzurin mutters to them as soon as she reaches the plot. “I’ll get all of you to a drier spot right away.”

She ends up being so absorbed with her task that she doesn’t hear the sound of someone approaching. It is already too late when her sensitive ears pick up the sound of the footsteps — unsteady footfalls of a person trudging through the vegetation. Yuzurin immediately stiffens up, suspicious. Who would be wandering about in a downpour as heavy as this?

The answer to that question stumbles out of the treeline just a moment later.

Their eyes meet through the pouring rain — surprise mirrored in each others’ gazes. The stranger appears to be a young man at first glance, short and slender and wearing a disproportionately large wide-brimmed hat on his head.

Yuzurin shrinks back from him instinctively. Although Sumeru has been relatively peaceful to her, there is always an odd researcher or two every century, who hears of the Auspicious Doe of the Forest and becomes obsessed with the idea of capturing good fortune. Not to mention her encounter with that terrifying ‘Doctor’ all those years ago… She glances up at him once more, goosebumps prickling over her skin.

And he’s backing away from her, blue eyes wide with what seems to be approaching terror from under his hat. Yuzurin glances down at herself, confused, then startles in realisation. She’s still in her yokai form, with antlers growing out of her head and her eyes glowing white in the gloom. Forget about being scared — she’s the terrifying one here!

“There’s no need to be afraid—” she tries to say and abruptly stops when her voice echoes throughout the trees in that unnatural, intimidating tone. Shaking her head, she wills her antlers to disappear from sight and her eyes lose their usual glow. Hopefully she appears more humanlike and less frightening now. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I don’t mean any harm.” She holds up her dirty hands, stained with mud and chlorophyll, to prove her point.

The young man grips the brim of his hat tightly, glancing between her and the path he’d come from, as though contemplating fleeing. He really shouldn’t, if he knows what’s good for him. The Devantaka Valley tends to turn muddy and slippery when the rains get too heavy, and if he is unfamiliar with the roads, he could very well slip and injure himself — or worse still, hit his head.

What if a Fungi got to him? Or the Spinocrocodiles? Or worse yet, the Rishboland tigers? While they are friendly with Yuzurin, due to her being a nature spirit, she cannot say the same for this… human. While he does appear human, there is a strange dissonance in Yuzurin’s mind every time she looks at him. He looks far too beautiful in an… unnatural sort of way, as though a master artisan had taken the time to delicately carve his features, mould his form and smooth out every imperfection.

Too perfect, and that’s putting it lightly.

Still, that’s no excuse to leave someone in the forest alone and afraid in the pouring rain. “Are you okay?” she calls out to him, careful to keep her voice soothing so as to not startle him. “Why are you out in a storm like this? Do you have any shelter?”

The young man just looks at her, the beautiful blue silks of his clothes drenched by the rain. He shifts tentatively from one foot to the other, before he slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know…” He pauses to grip the gold ornament hanging from his left shoulder tightly before he continues answering. “No. I, um, I don’t have shelter.”

His voice is soft and mild, and a little timid. There’s almost a sort of shy childlike innocence to it, in the way that he speaks. A surge of protectiveness wells up in Yuzurin. She’s going to take care of him!

“I know that the two of us don’t know each other, but I can’t leave you out here in the rain like this,” Yuzurin tells him, concerned. “There are wild predators out here in the forest and the rain can make the ground dangerous. If you come with me, I can guide you to a safe place where you can take shelter from the rain.”

The young man fiddles with the brim of his hat, clearly nervous as he contemplates her words, but eventually nods. “Thank you,” he says hesitantly. Every expression is so clearly displayed across his face that even her normally oblivious self can read him like an open book. Yuzurin does not think that he is a threat.

“Give me a second,” she tells him, turning around to continue digging up her roses carefully. “I need to move these plants somewhere else, so…”

A pair of porcelain white hands appear next to hers. “I’ll help as well,” the young man tells her, eyes shifting around awkwardly, when Yuzurin glances up at him in surprise. “You are offering to help me… so it is only fair I do the same in return.”

Yuzurin blinks, before a smile crosses her face. “You are a very kind person,” she tells him, and he drops his gaze to the ground, shy. Still, his help is welcome — an additional pair of hands would make her work go faster, and the quicker they complete this, the quicker they can get out of the pouring rain. “Then, if you wouldn’t mind… Could you help me put the uprooted flowers in that basket over there? Be very gentle with them!”

He looks unsure, but nods. “Leave it to me.”

Although the young stranger started out clumsy, he turns out to be a fast learner. The work of moving all the cultivated Sumeru Roses into a basket is done in half the time that Yuzurin had expected. Now, the two of them make their way up a mountain path that Yuzurin is familiar with, the basket in her arms and the umbrella held over her head by the stranger.

“Where are we going?” The stranger asks her as they walk, careful to hold the umbrella over her head. She’d tried to insist that he cover himself better, but he’d explained that his hat was sufficient protection from the rain. He must have a nice soul, she thinks.

“I have a friend called Ararycan who has a house somewhere in the area,” Yuzurin explains as they push through the rain. “We should be reaching any moment now… ah, we’re here.”

Just as most Aranara residences are, the house that they are approaching is distinctively small, round in shape and also very, very empty. Still, Yuzurin heads right up to the circular entrance at the front, calling out, “Ararycan! Ararycan, are you home?”

The stranger is glancing around, as though trying to find just who would live in such a tiny house, when Yuzurin catches a peep of light blue vanishing behind a tree. If Yuzurin didn’t know any better, she would have thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the Aranaras are masters of going unnoticed when they don’t want to be seen.

And they usually don’t want to be seen by grown adults, especially ones that they don’t know or trust.

“Ararycan!” She takes another step forward. “We’ve come to take shelter from the storm! Don’t worry about him, he’s a nice person.”

There’s silence for a few more moments, before a blue, hatted figure appears. The young man next to her takes a step back at the sight of the unfamiliar creature, presumably startled. Ararycan, too, mirrors his actions, taking several tentative steps back so that Yuzurin is planted safely between the two of them.

“Ararycan, safe with Nara Rinara,” Ararycan ducks behind Yuzurin’s leg, clearly skittish. “Nara Rinara brought a strange Nara to Ararycan’s house. Why?”

“He’s not a strange Nara,” Yuzurin soothes, reaching out behind her to take Ararycan’s tiny blue hand in hers. She gestures for the young man to take a step closer and he does, tentatively. Now that they’re standing next to each other, Yuzurin can’t help but notice how similar the two of them look, blue hats and all. “This is Ararycan, an Aranara of the forest. Ararycan, this is…” She looks at the young man, at Ararycan, then back at him. “I, uhh, didn’t get his name.”

Ararycan clutches onto her hand tighter. “Nara Rinara is kind and trusts easily. But not careful.”

Her cheeks heat, but well, Ararycan isn’t wrong. “Well, we were in a rush for time earlier and— oh, how about you introduce yourself now to the both of us?”

The young man stands there, still looking awkward under the weight of two stares in that too large hat as he grips the umbrella tightly in his hands. “Well, I, um. I would introduce myself if I could but I, uhh, don’t have one.”

Ararycan tilts his head. “Strange Nara doesn’t have an introduction?”

“No, a name.”

Yuzurin stares at the young stranger in confusion. How is it possible for someone to not have a name, especially at an age such as this. When he sees the expression that she’s wearing, he explains. “I have been a wanderer for as long as I can — I suppose that no one has ever given me a name, and it never did occur to me that I needed one.”

The three of them look at each other, and Yuzurin feels both a little sad and guilty for having to bring up such a question. For someone to have never given him a name… that must have meant that he didn’t grow up around family or friends.

“Well, how about we call you by a nickname—” Yuzurin begins, just as the young man says, “You could give me a name.”

That statement leaves Yuzurin flustered. “I can’t possibly do something as… important as that! A name is something that’s valuable and precious!”

The young man shrugs. “It’s not that important to me,” he says honestly, meeting her eyes. “I’d like you to name me, if it’s not too much of a burden for you.”

“No, it’s not a burden…” Yuzurin bites her lips. This wasn’t exactly how she thought her day would go. “You are… sure that you’re alright with me naming you?” He nods, and Yuzurin wants to crumple under the responsibility that he has just set on her shoulders.

Yuzurin stares at the young man for a while, trying to come up with a suitable name. It is a huge responsibility for her, to have to decide on a name for someone.

First of all, he appears to be Inazuman in origin — Yuzurin’s homeland. Second, he’s beautiful, really beautiful. Yuzurin, for a moment, even thinks that she might see a resemblance to the first god that she had ever sworn allegiance to. There is just something about him that reminds her of Makoto’s gentle grace and timelessness when she looks at him. And lastly, well… he seems nice. Sweet.

“How about the name Kuni,” Yuzurin says slowly. “It means benevolent prince in Inazuman, and I think it rolls nicely off the tongue.” She glances up, tentative, not sure if he’ll like it. However, what she sees surprises her.

“Benevolent prince?” The young man rubs at the back of his neck, an unmistakably bashful expression forming on his face. “That is far too generous a way to refer to me by…”

“It’s not! I think it suits you very well!” Yuzurin insists. Before the stranger can say a word more, Ararycan steps in, glancing up at him.

“Nara Kuni and Nara Rinara.” Ararycan nods seriously, before pointing them over to the little shelter next to the Aranara house. The stranger — well, Kuni now, she supposes — cracks a small smile at that, looking at her as though to say I guess it’s been decided now. “Go under the big leaves and wait there. Ararycan will find leaves to make the two of you dry.”

The two of them are ushered into shelter, sitting at the wooden table that Ararycan had put together for Yuzurin — she’s too big to fit comfortably into his Aranara house, as most people are. Kuni watches Ararycan disappear into it with fascination shining in his eyes.

“His name is Ararycan, you said?” Kuni asks suddenly as Yuzurin is wringing water out of her socks. “He is very… hospitable and welcoming, even to a stranger such as myself. I have never seen any creature like him, even during my travels in Sumeru.”

“He’s an Aranara. They’re a race of forest spirits created by the Dendro Archon,” Yuzurin smiles fondly in Ararycan’s direction, before turning to Kuni. “I’m surprised that you could see him, actually. The Aranara can keep themselves hidden from those that they don’t want to be found by. Usually only children can see them, but they tend to lose this ability once they grow up.”

“Is that so?” Kuni glances in the direction of the Aranara house. “I must be very fortunate to be able to see him then. Are there more like him?”

“Plenty more,” Yuzurin nods, absentmindedly swinging her legs beneath her. “I’ll introduce them all to you, if you want to meet them.” His eyes shine, and he looks down, presumably awkward, but Yuzurin catches sight of the upward curve of his mouth.

And she can’t help thinking just how lovely he looks when he smiles like that. He should smile more, she thinks.

“I’m looking forward to it, then.”

>>>

Yuzurin makes good on her promise a few days later. After the rain stops, Ararycan and the two of them head across the wet, grassy fields to New Vanarana. Some of the rivers have swollen over and spilled onto their banks with the extended downpour, but Kuni easily picks Yuzurin up and carries her over the rushing rivers to the other bank safely, before rubbing his neck shyly when Yuzurin thanks him gratefully.

At times, Yuzurin wanders off to look at some pretty Kalpalata Lotuses growing on the side of a cliff, or to pick some Zaytun Peaches to eat. With Ararycan and Kuni’s help, Yuzurin manages to make some Selva Salad — something that Kuni seemed to be pleasantly surprised by. He even asks for seconds, and offers to search for more fruits to make another helping.

Yuzurin watches him and Ararycan go, the two chatting pleasantly with one another, smiling. They seem to be getting along well.

At night, the three of them build a fire on a small hill — well, the two of them, considering that Ararycan is terrified of even the smallest flame — and sit around it. Ararycan alternates between hiding inside Yuzurin’s large sleeves and taking shelter behind Kuni’s large, ornamental hat. After a while of Yuzurin and Kuni reassuring the Aranara that the fire will not suddenly leap out and consume him, Ararycan finally takes a seat a safe distance away to share in warm, flickering light.

The moon is high in the sky when the fire finally begins to die down. Lulled into a relaxed mood by the chatter, the food and the fire, Yuzurin doesn’t even notice that she’s let her true form show until Kuni points it out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Yuzurin exclaims, rushing to hide her crimson antlers. She remembers how frightened Kuni had been when the two of them had first run into each other. “Let me just—”

“There’s no need to.” Kuni halts her with a hand on the forearm. “I am not bothered by it. In fact,” his eyes tilt up, his gaze travelling over the sprawling antlers atop her head, before returning to meet her glowing white eyes, “I am… happy, that you feel safe enough to assume your true form around me. Besides,” he lets out a quiet cough, ducking his head, “you are very beautiful like this.”

Yuzurin blinks at that, surprised by that statement. There’s a heat spreading across her cheeks, and she instantly ducks her head as well. “I, uhm, thank you,” she says, suddenly feeling very shy. “Then, I’ll keep my antlers out if you don’t mind.”

Ararycan has disappeared to look for something in the nearby forest, and the two of them are left to sit by the dying fire in peaceful silence. It’s calming, to simply sit and listen to the occasional crackle or pop and the sounds of the forest coming alive at night.

The tranquillity, however, is suddenly interrupted by a low, rolling growl. Yuzurin sits up in alarm, glancing about for the source, but Kuni is one step faster. He’s on his feet before Yuzurin can even spot the intruder, and Yuzurin finds herself staring at his back as he stands down the Rishboland Tiger who has interrupted their calm night.

The tiger lets out a snarl at the perceived threat, its hackles rising. Kun’s eyes narrow in turn.

“I need you to back off,” he says, but the tiger only growls again and takes a step closer. Yuzurin doesn’t know why Kuni thinks that he could take on a full grown beast of the forest, but she hops between the two of them before the situation can go sideways, one hand on Kuni’s wrist and the other held out to the Rishboland Tiger.

“Calm down, it’s alright,” Yuzurin soothes. Her words are directed to both Kuni and the Rishboland Tiger. She turns to the Rishboland Tiger. “He’s not gonna hurt you, alright? We were just startled. Is this your territory? I’m sorry for intruding on it.”

She sees Kuni glancing at her, confused and a little incredulous, but he eventually gives in. The Rishboland Tiger, after seeing the threat disappear, eventually lowers its tail. It takes a slow step towards them, and then another… before flopping onto the grass and letting out a great, big purr.

Yuzurin glances at Kuni to say, look, it’s harmless, before she reaches out and begins to run a hand through its thick, soft fur.

“Rishboland tigers are usually very territorial, so they tend to attack anyone who intrudes upon their territory,” Yuzurin explains to Kuni, who’s staring the large cat down as Yuzurin continues to work her fingers through the thick fur. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Taking it personally was the last thing on my mind, to be perfectly honest,” Kuni tells her, eyes still fixed on that mouth full of sharp fangs. Still, he does sit down next to her, watching carefully as the Rishboland Tiger butts its head into Yuzurin’s palm, looking for scratches. Yuzurin obliges, of course. “Most of my encounters with the Sumerian wildlife haven’t ended as peacefully as this one, unfortunately. But they seem to listen to you.”

Yuzurin blinks, looking down at the Rishboland Tiger. It’s now moved its head to Yuzurin’s lap, like a large, lazy house cat. “Is that so? I’ve never really thought about it, actually.”

“Perhaps it’s because you are a nature spirit of some sort,” Kuni suggests. Yuzurin thinks for a bit, before she turns to Kuni.

“How about you try patting it?” she suggests. Kuni’s eyes widen, and he looks down at the tiger, doubt pulling his lips into a slight frown.

“I would prefer to keep all ten of my fingers, if possible.”

“He’s not going to bite you, I promise.” Yuzurin reaches out to grasp Kuni’s hand in hers gently. When their fingers brush, Yuzurin is mildly surprised by how cool his hand is to the touch, his skin porcelain smooth. Kuni looks a little sceptical, but allows his hand to be tugged over to the Rishboland Tiger. Man and beast eye each other warily for a few moments, until Kuni finally, slowly, tentatively rests his hand on its ruff.

The Rishboland Tiger’s mouth widens, and for a moment Yuzurin wonders if things are about to go south very quickly, but it only yawns and stretches out its front legs, content to bask in the attention. She breathes a silent sigh of relief and sends a prayer of thanks to the Dendro Archon.

“It seems that he likes you,” Yuzurin comments. Kuni lets out a quiet laugh under his breath, running his fingers through the beast’s thick ruff.

“I’m not sure about that,” he says, but he sounds pleased when the tiger purrs, a rolling rumble deep in its chest that vibrates pleasantly against Yuzurin’s side. She leans back, stretching out her legs, and gazes up at the moon in the sky. The fireflies dance in the night and the night air is warm against her skin.

Yuzurin thinks that she could spend many more nights like this.

>>>

They reach New Vanarana before the sun begins to set. Arayash, as usual, is standing guard by the Dendro Archon’s Statue of the Seven, and he straightens up the second he sees them arriving.

“Ararycan, Nara Rinara.” His eyes settle on the person walking between the two of them, and Yuzurin watches in alarm as he tightens his hold on his club. “Strange Nara.”

“This is Nara Kuni,” Ararycan explains, before things can escalate. “He is a friend of Nara Rinara. And friend of Ararycan.”

“Kuni, this is Arayash,” Yuzurin introduces him to the guard Aranara tentatively. “Arayash, this is Kuni — Nara Kuni, I suppose. He’s a friend of ours. We’re bringing him to see Vanarana, and meet the other Aranaras.”

Arayash continues to stare at Kuni, before he lowers his club slightly. He doesn’t put it down, however. “Nara Kuni feels… strange,” Arayash says bluntly. “Nara Kuni looks but… does not feel… like Nara. Not like Nara Varuna, or the Golden Nara. Also not like Nara Rinara.”

Yuzurin glances at Kuni in a mixture of concern and surprise. She, too, had thought that Kuni didn’t quite… feel completely human, but she’d kept that to herself. So, it seems that it is not just her who felt that way.

When she looks at Kuni, however, he does not seem very fazed by Arayash’s comment. “I can stay outside, if it would make you feel better,” he begins to say, but then Ararycan steps in front of him, shaking his head.

“Nara Kuni is Ararycan’s friend,” Ararycan repeats, more firmly this time. He gestures to a small, blue flower pinned to his chest that Yuzurin hadn’t noticed before. Had Kuni given that to him? “It does not matter that Nara Kuni does not feel like Nara. All Nara are different, but Nara Kuni is kind.”

Arayash looks between Ararycan and Kuni, before finally lowering his club. “If that is what Ararycan says.” He waves them in.

“I wasn’t expecting him to say that to you,” Yuzurin whispers to Kuni as the two of them follow Ararycan through Vanarana. The sky has turned a deep indigo, and the fireflies are out, tiny lights dancing through the cool night air. Although it is a beautiful sight that has never failed to take Yuzurin’s breath away, she’s more concerned with Kuni right now. “Are you alright?”

Kuni nods. “I am not… surprised, that he thought that way about me,” he says mildly, looking up at where a pocket of sky peers through the leaves. He seems… lost in thought, awash in a sea of memories. “During my travels, many who came across me have made similar remarks. It does not bother me, since I have gotten used to it.”

“That doesn’t sound like something you should have to get to,” Yuzurin argues, shaking her head. But Kuni only smiles.

“Still, I was happy… to hear that you and Ararycan consider me your friend,” he says, turning to look at her. For some reason she can’t explain, Yuzurin’s breath catches in her throat when Kuni’s deep blue eyes meet hers. “We’ve only known each other for a few days, but I am glad that you see me as such.”

How can he say such things with a straight face? Yuzurin licks her lips, all of a sudden far too aware of how dry and chapped they are. The sun must be too hot. She tugs at the sleeves of her shirt. Her hands don’t have anything to do. Her heart is racing too quickly for her liking.

“Ah ha ha.” Her laughter sounds awkward and stilted even to her own ears, and she cringes at the sound of it. Divert! Divert the topic! “You say that, but you gave a flower to Ararycan and not me? I’m hurt, Kuni.”

Yuzurin had meant that as a joke, but Kuni looks alarmed at her words. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I promise,” he rushes to say, stepping closer so that the tips of their noses are almost touching. Yuzurin’s mouth goes uncomfortably dry at how close the two of them are. Kuni, however, doesn’t seem to be aware of it as he continues to ramble. “I found a kalpalata lotus while you were looking for fruits this morning and the colour of it reminded me of Ararycan. I heard that Aranaras give and receive flowers as symbols of friendship, so I gave it to him—”

“It’s alright—”

“I’ll give you one as well! I wanted to find a flower for you as well, but I haven’t yet come across one that suits you—”

“Kuni,” Yuzurin cuts in before he can continue. He stops mid-sentence, glancing up at her. “I was just teasing you.”

His shoulders sag. “You were just teasing me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Thank goodness,” he murmurs, shaking his head. The bells attached to his hat jingle as they sway with the movement. “I was worried for a moment, there…”

“Apologies,” Yuzurin laughs awkwardly, scratching at one of her antlers. He is still far too close, and her heart is still racing far too fast. “I’m not very good at making jokes…”

The laugh that escapes Kuni is a sheepish, embarrassed sound. “And I’m not very good at picking up on them, it seems.” He smiles at her, and Yuzurin drops her gaze to the ground, suddenly shy for no reason at all. “Still, I do promise to find a flower that suits you.” His gaze travels across her face, before he meets her eyes earnestly. “One that is as beautiful as you are.”

If Yuzurin’s heart had quickened like a galloping horse earlier, now it feels as though the organ has stopped beating in her chest entirely. A sumpter beast of emotions is crashing its way between her ribs and she’s sure that her entire face is red.

Fortunately, she is saved from having to formulate a coherent reply by Ararycan. “Nara Rinara, Nara Kuni,” the two of them glance up to see Ararycan already standing a significant distance away, “you must catch up before Ararycan leaves you behind!”

“Apologies, Ararycan,” Kuni calls in response before he turns back to Yuzurin, a smile on his face. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Her heart is still beating too fast and not fast enough, but Yuzurin manages a smile and nods. “Wouldn’t want to keep Ararycan waiting, would we?”

Kuni’s smile widens, and Yuzurin thinks, as the two of them race to catch up with the blue Aranara, that her heart might be in danger.

>>>

They find the Balladeer looking at fruits, of all things, when Aether and Paimon stumble across him in the markets of Sumeru City. For a moment, Aether almost thinks that he’s caught a glimpse of a ghost — with the tragic life of the Sixth Fatui Harbinger erased, there is no reason for his present incarnation to turn up in Sumeru — but when he takes a second look, it only makes him more sure of it.

He would never mistake the haunting jingle of those bells.

This incarnation of the Balladeer is dressed in shades of pale and deep blue, unlike his previous self, but retains the same ostentatious hat. Aether could identify him in a sea of people in a heartbeat. But during their last encounter, the Harbinger had chosen to erase himself from the record of Teyvat…

Right! Greater Lord Rukkhadevata had said it herself — no one can erase themselves from existence, not even her. And if the Avatar of the Irminsul herself had to create Lesser Lord Kusanali to do it for her, a kabukimono like the Balladeer cannot possibly…

Aether takes a step closer.

The man is standing in front of a stall, head lowered. And there’s a look of deep concentration on his face as he picks up a bright pink fruit — Redcrest, the desert fruit that grows on cacti — studying it carefully before setting it back down. There’s a basket hanging from the crook of his arm, half-filled with other types of produce.

Next, he picks up a stalk of mourning flower — a plant with dull pink blossoms that can only be found in the Girdle of Sands. He looks at the flower in his hand intently, turning it over to study it from several more angles, before he hands it to the store owner. It seems as though he’s purchasing it.

Now, Aether really finds himself at a loss as to what is going on.

“Traveler, what are you doing?” Paimon flies into his field of vision, blocking off the kabukimono. “Why are you staring at that stall? Do you want some redcrest fruits? We can just get them from the desert, can’t we?”

“Wait.” Aether gently tugs Paimon out of the way, but it is too late. The Balladeer incarnation has already left the stall, and when Aether glances around the marketplace, sees a swish of blue vanishing into one of the many root passages. “Come with me, Paimon,” he says, feet already beginning to move. “Quick!”

“You’re being weird again,” Paimon complains, but goes along with him anyway.

The two of them catch up with the hatted figure at the gates of Sumeru City. He’s standing at the side of the path, busy going through his basket. Aether takes a step closer to him, and another, and another, and—

“You two over there, is there something I can help you with?”

“Aah!” Paimon ducks behind Aether. “He’s spotted us! I told you that this is a bad idea!”

She didn’t, but Aether decides not to bring that up.

“You’ve been following me all the way from the city, I’d have to be blind not to notice.” This Balladeer incarnation crosses his arms over his chest, and Aether’s hand instinctively reaches for his sword. He just manages to stop himself, however. This is not the Sixth Harbinger, and not the Balladeer. Although he doesn’t seem too pleased with being followed, he seems more uncomfortable rather than hostile. It’s jarring, to see such a mild expression on the Balladeer’s too perfect face.

He decides to be honest. “You’re right, we were following you,” Aether says. The Balladeer’s brows pinch, presumably confused by his honest admission.

“Uhm,” he sounds more curious now, “have we met before?”

Aether shakes his head. “We haven’t. But I know you. It’s complicated, but I do know you.” The man purses his lips at that, frowning, before he shakes his head.

“I have no recollection of that at all,” he murmurs, although Aether doesn’t know whether it’s meant for his own ears or not. “Sorry, but I can’t just take your word for it. We’ve never met each other before, and while I don’t wish to offend, you might have dishonest intentions towards me…”

It’s throwing Aether off, to see the likeness of the Sixth Harbinger — the man who had betrayed his own homeland to the Fatui, who had willingly participated in a nefarious scheme to create a man-made god — speak so innocently. Scaramouche would never have cared about offense.

“Yeah, are you sure we got the right person?” Paimon chimes in. There’s doubt written all over her face. “Paimon thinks she would remember meeting a guy like this!”

Aether turns back to the man. “You’re a puppet, aren’t you?” he says bluntly.

When the man’s eyes go wide, Aether instantly knows that he’s got it right. Nothing at first glance would indicate that he’s anything but human, but he’s a puppet created by the Electro Archon, after all. The man presses his hand to his forehead, a deep sigh leaving him.

“It seems that you do know me, after all. That’s not something I share with a lot of people.” He looks up, brows drawn together in a look of resignation. “Since you’ve gone to all this trouble to track me down, I suppose that whatever you need me for must be important.”

“You need to come with us,” Aether tells him. The man is quiet for a moment, his eyes straying to his basket. His gaze falls on the mourning flower, amidst the fresh produce, before it returns to Aether once more.

“I will be free to go afterwards, won’t I?”

“You will,” Aether promises. While Scaramouche — the one of the past — might have committed many unforgivable crimes, it’s not fair to hold the current incarnation of him responsible for them. The man takes a deep breath, and then sighs.

“Lead the way then,” he says.

>>>

“Is Kuni still not back yet?”

Yuzurin stands at the Statue of Seven overlooking the path to Vanarana, arms folded across her chest. She tries to resist the urge to pace — Arayash has a bit of a pet peeve when people step on the grass — but the worry is becoming a little unbearable.

Kuni can take care of himself, Yuzurin is quite sure of that, but that doesn’t stop her from being concerned. Earlier in the day, he had volunteered to run an errand for some of the Aranara to pick up certain desert fruits from the bazaar in Sumeru City. He had set off with his basket and promised to return by evening time — and now, it is already nightfall.

“Nara Rinara seems to always be worried about Nara Kuni.” Yuzurin whirls around to see Arayash standing behind her, his expression as flat and unamused as usual. “Nara Rinara likes Nara Kuni too much.”

Embarrassed, Yuzurin goes to deny that at once — but then stops. It feels… too dishonest to say otherwise, and it’s not in her nature to lie. Instead, she takes a seat next to Arayash, her knees tucked up to her chest and her voice small as she says, “and if I do?”

Arayash does not respond for a while, and Yuzurin is about to get up and start pacing once more when she suddenly hears him say, “he’ll come back soon.”

Yuzurin is thankful for his reassurance, but she is also quite sure that her entire face is red now. He’s not subtle at all! Still, she nods quietly, and returns to watching the path once more.

“Thank you, Arayash.”

She waits a day, and then a week, and when two weeks have passed, she realises that Kuni is most probably not returning. Part of her wants to search for him, and maybe the Aranara could help her, but part of her is afraid to hear his reasons for not returning. What if he says that he simply got bored and wanted to move on? What if he just wanted to travel elsewhere?

The thoughts continue to linger in her mind, even as she moves on with her days in Vanarana.

>>>

He keeps finding himself at the edge of Vanarana.

Kuni — does he really have the right to call himself Kuni after all that’s happened? Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, Balladeer. He’s had so many names and titles that have come and gone. And in this world, where all traces of Scaramouche, with gnashing teeth and an empty heart, had already been erased… does he really exist at all?

Still, someone else had given him a name — Kuni. Not to be a country-destroyer, but rather a benevolent prince. He’d been shy when Yuzurin had first given him that name, believing it to be far too kind for him, but now, it only seems like a cruel joke.

He is no benevolent prince, far from it. Not from all the memories that he had returned to him. Now, he remembers their brief encounter before he had entered the Irminsul, and remembers what Yuzurin had been telling the Traveler back then. Of a Doctor obsessed with yokai and spirits, and being hunted down by the Fatui. Yet another person that Dottore has screwed over, he supposes.

Kuni wonders if she’s still waiting for him. It’s been a couple of weeks since he’s remembered everything, which means it’s been two weeks since he’d left Vanarana. Knowing Yuzurin, she would be worried if something had happened to him, but he can’t bring himself to return just yet. He doesn’t even know if he should return at all.

Being around her had always brought him a sense of tranquillity and peace, even before his encounter with the Traveler. It had been a simple time of collecting fresh fruits to eat from the forest, Ararycan teaching him about the various flora while Yuzurin taught him to interact with the animals that roamed it, but it had been quiet. Peaceful. And Kuni had enjoyed every second of it.

He touches the mourning flower stowed away safely in his sleeve. It’s slightly wilted, after all this time, but it’s still holding on strong — a hardy, undefeatable flower that blooms even in the desert. He had intended to give this flower to her, just as he’d promised.

Perhaps she would understand. That he is no longer part of the Fatui, and never was — not in this life, at least. He is not one of the people who had hurt her, and bears no ill will towards her. And yet, he now carries the memories of Scaramouche and Kunikuzushi, and he cannot deny that they are part of him either.

In a moment of frustration, Kuni picks up a stray fruit off the ground and tosses it into the forest. He watches it hit the grass with a soft thump. If only he could be just Kuni — Kuni alone, and no one else.

The fruit rolls over and over… before it comes to a stop, bumping lightly against someone’s foot. Frowning, Kuni looks up from under the brim of his hat… to see Yuzurin standing there, arms folded across her chest and a troubled expression on her face as she looks at him.

The two of them look at each other for a while, neither wanting to speak first. Kuni doesn’t know what to say to her. He doesn’t know what she feels towards him now, after his sudden disappearance. He doesn’t know what he wants her to feel towards him.

But after a while, the silence is beginning to grow unbearable, and so Kuni opens his mouth…

“What are you doing here?”

Yuzurin’s head snaps up, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and hurt, and Kuni instantly knows that he’s said the wrong thing. He hadn’t meant to sound so… curt, but Scaramouche has always spoken that way, and… He resists the urge to pinch his nose and groan.

He’s messing everything up. Nothing has changed in that regard, it seems.

“Ararycan mentioned that he saw you standing here for a while now, so I decided to come and see you. You haven’t returned for weeks now.” Her voice carries a tinge of unsurety, but her brows are pinched with determination. “Why did you leave?”

Now that’s a question that Kuni isn’t prepared to answer.

He can choose to lie — to say that he ran into someone he’d known during his visit to the city, to say that he’d been delayed on the way back helping someone else — and he’s quite sure that Yuzurin would believe it, because that is the type of person that she is. She had reached out to him in the midst of the pouring rain, asking him if he had a place to take shelter, and if he had a place to go. And even though Kuni might bear Scaramouche’s memories right now, he doesn’t want to do such a thing.

It wouldn’t feel right to take advantage of that kindness, all while knowing that he was part of the Fatui that had attempted to hunt her down all those years ago. And as for her kindness… Well, now that he’s gotten his memories back, Kuni doesn’t need it any longer, does he?

“I was worried about you,” Yuzurin’s voice cuts through the murky mess of his thoughts, and he looks up to see Yuzurin frowning at him. Although she still looks upset, there’s also an undercurrent of worry cutting through her anger with him.

“I don’t deserve it,” he says, his voice flat. Even now, she’s still trying to talk to him and connect with him. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t deserve it.

“I… understand, if you have more important things to do or places to go to,” it’s clear from her tone that she is still trying her best to be patient with him, “but I would have appreciated it if you could have just… let me know—”

“I’m part of the Fatui.” He cuts her off, his words sharp as a blade of wind. His teeth grind against each other, and that simple sentence seems to take unparalleled effort. He was the Sixth Harbinger and almost a god, for Archons’ sakes. He had willingly gone through unspeakable physical and mental torture at that mad doctor’s hands. Why should he care for the feelings of a woman he had barely met less than a couple of months ago?

And yet the truth is, he still does.

He finds himself looking up at her face. Trepidation flits through him as he does, and he wants to cast it out immediately. He’s beyond emotions, nothing but a puppet without a heart, and—

Oh.

Yuzurin’s eyes are wide, both hands clasped over her mouth and her knees buckling slightly. Kuni reaches out instinctively to steady her, but she recoils, taking a step back and her face going taut with terror.

“I’m not—” The words escape his mouth, unbidden, awkward, desperate, “—I am no longer with the Fatui.”

Yuzurin shakes her head sharply, taking another step back. All the colour has drained from her face, but she clenches her jaw and asks this one more question. “And were you… one of those people who hunted me down all those years ago?”

Kuni doesn’t know what to say. Even if he tells her the truth, that he wasn’t… so what? It wouldn’t change the fact that he was once part of the Fatui. It wouldn’t change his past of hurting hundreds of people in pursuit of his own goals. Trying to erase himself in the Irminsul has taught him that. He can’t escape his wrongdoings.

Perhaps it’s better that she hates him. It’s his penance.

When he doesn’t reply, Yuzurin takes a step back, and another. Until she turns around and vanishes into the treeline, not once looking back at him.

>>>

Yuzurin is running.

She’s running through the forest, pushing her way through thick vegetation and stumbling over the roots in the undergrowth. It’s foolish, really, for her to react this way. It’s been centuries since the Fatui Doctor had tried to capture her. She is a nigh-immortal being, who has lived for hundreds of years. She…

She can still see the Doctor standing there, malice dripping between the razor sharp edges of his grin, still as clear as the day that she had encountered him. He’s like a phantom that she can’t leave behind her, as much as she tries to, and—

And Kuni. Kuni is one of them. All this time, he had been one of the Fatui — and Yuzurin, like the oblivious fool she’s always been — didn’t even notice anything off about him.

Her steps start to slow, a slight burn taking over her lungs. Still, Kuni had said that he used to be in the Fatui, but had also clarified that he was no longer part of them any longer. And when she’d asked him if he had been one of those who tried to hunt her down, he hadn’t denied it, but he didn’t agree to it either…

Oh, no. Could she have possibly made a mistake?

She comes to a complete stop, her chest still heaving. If Kuni had once been part of the Fatui, but hadn’t been part of the group who kidnapped her… does he still deserve her fear and ire?

Should she… go back and clarify things? The Kuni she has known over the course of the last few weeks doesn’t seem like a person who would do such a thing. She remembers how generous he is with his time, his eagerness to help her with nearly everything that she does, and his gentleness when interacting with the Aranara…

Someone like that cannot possibly be an awful person.

Perhaps she’s being a gullible fool again, but Yuzurin wants to believe in the person that she’s known, not the person that she knows nothing about. Kuni deserves a chance to properly explain himself to her. After that, she will make up her mind on what to believe.

Just as she’s turning around to look for Kuni once more, the scent of iron suddenly hits her like a blow to the face and sends her reeling back. She looks around sharply, immediately on high alert. Humans tend to stay far away from Vanarana because of all the myths and stories surrounding it. And those who try to intrude are either fools… or don’t have the best of intentions.

Although every inch of her body is crying out, repulsed by the blood, she forces herself to head in its direction. No matter the intentions of the person in the forest, it would be dangerous to allow them to continue lingering there. If they are one of those people trying to capture the Aranara, Yuzurin will have to deal with them.

She pushes deeper into the undergrowth, nausea growing in the pit of her stomach. The stench of blood gets stronger with each step she takes, and Yuzurin is almost upon it when she realises that the smell is fresh. The Kirin in her wants to turn around and leave, but Yuzurin pushes through it, even though she can feel her limbs getting heavy and her movements sluggish.

The blood is coming from the body lying slumped in the grass. Yuzurin has to keep a hand over her nose and mouth as she races over to the person’s side, unsure if she should move the body. It appears to be the body of a young woman, dressed in robes typical of a Sumerian villager, if not for the fact that they are soaked through with blood. Yuzurin fights the urge to recoil, reaching for the woman’s shoulder instead.

Yuzurin’s eyes widen when they fall on the woman’s neck. Instead of the bite marks typically found on the tiger victims, this woman’s neck bears a long, clean slice — a wound caused by a blade. A man made blade.

Blood is still pouring from the woman’s neck, and Yuzurin presses her hands against the wound, calling upon her healing powers to stem the flow and mend the wound. No matter how much energy she pours into the injury, however, it does nothing to heal the woman. Her eyes do not flutter, and her chest does not so much as rise an inch — it is then that Yuzurin must admit that she can do nothing more to save the woman.

The blood on her palms sting as she pulls them away, but Yuzurin ignores it as she wipes the blood from the woman’s cheek with her sleeve. “My apologies, for coming too late,” she whispers, an awful, sinking feeling in her chest. If she had come just an hour earlier, perhaps this woman might not have died. That is something that Yuzurin will have to live with for the rest of her life. “I’ll bury you now so that you can rest in peace, alright?”

She’s barely managed to lift the woman’s arm when weighted nets suddenly drop from the treetops. They’re on her before she can react. The steel wires entangle with her limbs, ensnaring her within their grasp. They don’t yield in the least when she tries to struggle free.

With her usual strength, the metal would give under the slightest yank, but the blood is keeping her weak and nauseous. A trap. Of course, it was a trap. One specially designed for a Kirin — one meant to catch Yuzurin.

A sharp sting catches at her arm, and she looks down, wondering if her skin has been torn open by the net — but instead she sees the bright red feathers of a dart. A wave of dizziness immediately washes over her, and she nearly collapses before forcing herself upright with sheer force of will.

A group of men dressed in familiar blue and silver uniforms rush out of the undergrowth just as she looks up, weapons and hunting gear at the ready. Of course, it’s the Fatui. She forces down the panic rising in her chest and yanks the tranquiliser dart out of her thigh, tossing it to the side. Yuzurin needs to escape, and fast.

Throwing out her hands, she summons all the Dendro energy that she can muster into the tips of her fingers. Her hands tingle with a familiar warmth, pins and needles spiking all over her skin.

The plants around them suddenly erupt to life, a writhing mass of vines and leaves and branches responding to her call. Yuzurin sends the vines to entrap their arms and the roots to ensnare their legs, and the fruits to fly from their branches like the guns that the Fatui carry.

For a while, this works — the Fatui trapped by the plants struggle and shout for reinforcements, some dropping their weapons while others panic, but eventually the sheer number of the Fatui and her own exhaustion cause her to be overwhelmed.

They send a few more tranquiliser darts her way, one in her arm and another in her shoulder, and the last thing Yuzurin sees before everything goes black are the Fatui’s hands reaching for her.

>>>

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here.

Kuni trudges through the forest, forcing the vegetation aside as he makes his way through the dense undergrowth. He wants to think that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, wasting his time searching through the forest, but the truth is that he does, unfortunately.

Earlier, he’d thought that he didn’t care what Yuzurin had thought of him — had been determined to not care about what Yuzurin thought of him — but after she had fled into the trees, Kuni had found himself quite unable to move on from it. Not only metaphorically, but also literally.

He’d paced the forest line for what had felt like hours before deciding that he needed to put an end to this. Not that he needs to make things right, but he should, at least, try to clear up his involvement with the Fatui. Not because he wants or needs her to not… look at him with those eyes so full of fear, but because… because it is the truth.

Right. That’s why.

The bells behind swish and clang agitatedly as he makes his way through the woods. Kuni doesn’t even know if he’s on the path Yuzurin had taken, which only sets his nerves even more on edge. Will he be able to catch up with her? What if she’s trying to hide from him? What if—

A stray breeze blows through the forest, carrying a scent that is intimately familiar to him. Iron and salt and death. It’s blood.

What if Yuzurin has gotten hurt?

He’s racing in the direction of the scent before his mind can catch up with his feet. Blades of wind fly from his palms like birds of prey taking flight, ruthlessly cutting down anything — overhanging vines, overgrown branches, even hostile Fungi disturbed by the sudden commotion — standing between him and the source of the scent.

Despite the situation he’s in, the Anemo Vision glows warm and bright against his chest. Kuni shoves the thought aside at once. There are too many emotions swirling within him right now, and he doesn’t want to deal with any of them at the moment.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the source, crimson splattered grotesquely across green like some sort of abstract painting. Kuni shoves aside a branch in his face and hurries over to the body lying in the grass.

Although he already knows that it isn’t Yuzurin lying face down and bleeding out in the grass, a sigh of relief still escapes him when he turns the body over. An unfortunate woman who had ended up a tool in the Fatui’s schemes. Their plots and execution are lacking in taste, as usual. This is why he’d always preferred to work alone, as the Sixth harbinger. Kuni doesn’t know how he ever worked with these fools.

While he is glad not to find Yuzurin harmed, there is now another pressing question: where is she?

He turns left and right sharply, looking for traces of where she might have gone, when he spots a familiar token. His fingers are careful as he lifts the little silk sachet from the grass. There’s no mistaking it.

It’s Yuzurin’s. He’s seen it hanging from her antlers, memorised the inscription woven on its silk. If it’s here…

“Hey, you! Help me!”

Kuni turns around at the shout, eyebrows drawing together in vengeful annoyance. There’s a Fatui foot soldier caught in a tangle of vines, a nasty cut dripping red from his temple. His comrades must have thought him dead and left him here for the beasts to find. Perfect.

“By the Tsaritsa’s grace, thank you for your help.” The Fatui soldier is rambling when Kuni strides over to him, his steps swift and purposeful. “You wouldn’t believe what happened— there was a monster that we just had to deal with—”

Kuni lunges forward and slams the man back by the throat. The Fatui gasps and wheezes, trying to struggle free from Kuni’s immovable hold — without his hands, his struggles are fruitless. The man doesn’t even have a Vision, which makes his efforts all the more pitiable.

“You were hunting down a Kirin,” he states bluntly, his fingers so tight around the man’s neck he can see the skin starting to bruise under his touch. Good. “Where?”

“How did you know—” The man tries to make out, but Kuni shoves the Fatui back into the tree once more.

“I ask the questions here,” he tells the man, raising his other hand. Anemo energy pours into his palm, and he compresses it into a tight ball of raging gales. A shrill whistle fills the air. “And you should answer them before I lose my patience. Where?”

He wasn’t the Sixth Harbinger for having a pretty face. “There’s a lab belonging to the Second Harbinger of the Fatui,” the man gasps out, his face turning red quickly, “located at the caves nearby!”

The man had given in quicker than expected. Weak and spineless, just as he’d expected.

“Good.” He throws his hand out, and the wind gusts surge forth. The man crumples to the ground, a puppet with its strings cut. The irony.

With that taken care of, Kuni turns in the direction of the caves, the bells of his hat jingling behind him.

He needs to hurry.

>>>>

Yuzurin doesn’t know how long she’s been trapped in this cave.

The cave is completely enclosed, so Yuzurin cannot tell how much time has passed from the movement of the sun across the sky. Strange metal devices, some that hum and some that glow in strange colours, are positioned all around the cage that she is in. She doesn’t know what they are here for, but they radiate a strange energy that keeps her mind hazy.

More concerning than that, however, are the dead bodies. There are bloody carcasses strewn around the perimeter of her cage, some with fresh blood still oozing from the wounds. It seems that whoever had wanted her caught has done their research and knows what they are dealing with.

The thought of what they might want with her scares Yuzurin more than the imprisonment she is going through. She cannot stay here for a moment longer — that much she’s still conscious of, at least.

“Oi, you.” Yuzurin takes a while to identify where the sound is coming from, and when she looks up, there is a soldier standing outside her cage. He’s accompanied by a few other guards, all standing behind him at a safe distance with their weapons in their hands. The man in front of her, however, is holding a long, metal stick with strangely shaped prongs at one end. “You’re a Kirin, aren’t you? A giver of good fortune?”

Yuzurin wants to clarify that no, Kirins do not bring good fortune. Kirin are merely omens of good fortune, and have no power to bestow it on anyone, including themselves. Really. If they knew enough to trap her with blood, couldn’t they have researched just a little more to figure out that all this was pointless?

“If I could summon good fortune as I pleased,” Yuzurin mutters obstinately, glaring at the man as she struggles to stay upright, “what makes you think I would end up here willingly, hmm?

Her captor clearly isn’t too happy with her answer, before he shoves the long stick between the bars of the cage. The end of it knocks into Yuzurin’s shoulder. For a moment, Yuzurin is thinking that it would leave a nasty bruise there, when all of a sudden, white hot pain flashes through her entire body.

The pain is hot and blistering, violent streaks of lightning running up and down her limbs in pulsating waves. When the initial shock begins to wear off, Yuzurin stares up at the man in front of her in a rage, her throat raw and her cheeks wet. She hadn’t even known that she was screaming.

The cursed instrument in his hand — a device used to harness Electro energy and unleash it upon another. Yuzurin detests it.

Fury fuelling her, Yuzurin lunges forward and grabs the stick by the hand. The man holding the other end panics and tries to yank it from her grasp, but she holds firm — and brutally snaps the device in half.

A series of alarms go off in the background and the soldiers rush towards her, weapons raised, but Yuzurin pays them no mind. Instead, she turns her eyes upwards. There, high above them, are a group of large stones, loosened by a few stray roots growing underground.

Throwing a hand upwards, she sends a surge of Dendro energy towards the roots. They immediately groan to life in response, creaking and writhing as they grow at an almost explosive speed. Their movement dislodges the rocks, sending them tumbling down from high above — and they crush two of the soldiers that had been approaching the cage.

There are muffled crunches and screams, but Yuzurin is more preoccupied with the damaged lock on her cage. She rams into it with her shoulder. The door falls open, freeing her, and Yuzurin stumbles out into the room, the scent of blood thick and heavy in her nose.

The remaining soldiers rush at her, but she slams her palms against the ground and pours Dendro energy into the earth. Vines and roots spring up from all corners of the cave at once. They dart towards her attackers like snakes, coiling around their ankles and arms, before hoisting them into the air. Yuzurin can hear them yelling and screaming in the background.

She turns around to search for the exit of the cave, but before she can escape, yet another soldier charges at her. The weapon in his hands is an iron rifle, already locked in on her. Yuzurin tries to summon more Dendro energy, but her energy has already been drained dry by her escape attempt.

Yuzurin squeezes her eyes shut, expecting to hear the awful sound of a gunshot ringing in her ears. It never comes.

A sharp whistle fills the air, and Yuzurin’s eyes blink open in surprise to see a bright green slash of Anemo energy slash through the air. It’s sharp enough to cut through the weapon completely, taking half the weapon off. Yuzurin’s breath catches in her throat. Just who—

Less than a second later, Kuni comes rushing in on the wind — green Anemo energy swirling around him as though he is the eye of a hurricane. Their eyes meet, and the next thing Yuzurin knows, she’s been scooped up into his arms. He takes her outside and sets her down at the cave entrance.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, his eyes not quite meeting hers. His voice still has that sharp, biting edge — not at all like the gentle and serene Kuni that she’d known for those last few weeks they’d spent together — but now, she can hear the faint undertone of concern. “Stay here. I’ll be right back as soon as I deal with them.”

The only thing Yuzurin can do is nod mutely, still staring up at him with wide eyes. Kuni’s eyes waver for a moment when he finally meets her gaze, before he’s whirling around once again, disappearing back into the darkness of the cave.

Yuzurin closes her eyes and clasps her hands over her ears tightly. While she might be adept at fighting, it doesn’t mean that she enjoys it — far from it. She hates having to see violence of any sort, but in some cases, it turns out to be the inevitable end.

It doesn’t take long for Kuni to return, wiping blood from his hands. His name escapes Yuzurin when he nears, and a complicated expression crosses his face at it.

“You’re hurt,” he mutters, getting down onto one knee in front of her to wipe the blood on her cheek, before his expression draws into a scowl. “There’s a bruise on your cheek, and another on your jaw…” He seethes through his teeth. “Those Fatui filth.”

“Aren’t you…” she winces when his thumb brushes over an open cut, “one of the Fatui as well?”

Kuni freezes at her words, his hand still against her cheek. Before he can pull away, however, Yuzurin grabs hold of his arm, their eyes meeting. He owes her an explanation, and Yuzurin will not let him leave without it.

“I… was. With the Fatui, I mean.” Kuni’s expression is almost uncomfortable when he says this, but he presses on. Yuzurin listens with rapt attention. “But I wasn’t one of those that tried to hunt you down. I, uhm, let you go.”

Yuzurin immediately brightens at that. So he hadn’t been among the ones who had tried to capture her. And he’d let her go, in fact!

As quick as her smile comes, however, it also goes. “Then, why did you not reply when I asked you back then?”

A series of complicated expressions flit across Kuni’s face, a dance of shadows against a blank canvas. Yuzurin watches as he swallows, clenches his jaw, before he exhales, his breath just the slightest hint shaky. “I didn’t…” His voice is almost too soft to make out when he speaks. “I didn’t think I deserved it. You… Your forgiveness.”

As he speaks, he holds out his hand. Yuzurin glances down to see her omamori lying in the middle of his palm.

“Oh!” Yuzurin hadn’t even noticed that she’d dropped it. She reaches out to take the small silk bag from him, relief washing over her when she secures it to her antlers once more. There is only one of it in the world, and she wouldn’t know what to do if she’d lost it. “Thank you, Kuni.”

“I didn’t—” Kuni stumbles over his words, suddenly awkward. “I mean, it wasn’t much. It’s hardly anything worth thanking—”

Yuzurin shakes her head. “Not just for returning it to me,” she says, smiling at Kuni. “For coming to rescue me, and also for being honest with me. Thank you, Kuni. Really.”

Kuni looks around awkwardly for a moment, not meeting her eyes. “You’re welcome,” he gets out at last. Yuzurin wants to laugh — he sounds quiet and shy, much like the first time they’d met — but she manages to hold it back. “Let’s head back to Vanarana. I’ll walk you there.”

The two of them make their way back to Vanarana, where the Aranara are anxiously waiting for Yuzurin. She’s bombarded with all sorts of questions as soon as she reaches the Statue of the Seven.

“Nara Rinara is hurt?!”

“There were bad Nara in the forest!”

“Ararycan buried the Nara in the forest, with his Ararakalari,” Ararycan says as he approaches, looking up at the two of them seriously. Yuzurin suddenly feels exhausted — the fight had taken a lot out of her, and she’s missed the refreshing, purifying energy that radiates throughout Vanarana. “Nara Rinara is unharmed?”

“Just a few scratches, but I’ll be fine,” Yuzurin smiles at the Aranara. “Thank you for being so concerned, everyone. But could you give me a few moments with Nara Kuni here, please? I have a few things I need to speak about with him.”

The Aranara send glances at another before nodding agreement. Yuzurin watches as they amble back off into Vanarana, content with knowing that she’s alright. Her heart is warm in her chest as she watches them go.

“They’re very concerned about you,” Kuni mutters, and Yuzurin laughs a little, turning around to look at him.

“Come with me.”

They walk in comfortable silence out of Vanarana, up the grassy hill that overlooks the rest of the Vanarana forest. Yuzurin glances up at the giant lily-pad plants that tower over them, before an idea comes to mind.

“Catch up with me, if you can!” She calls over her shoulder, before leaping up the lily-pads with supernatural grace. The sight of Kuni’s shocked face before it’s blocked by the giant, waxy leaves makes her laugh to herself.

The sky is dark when Yuzurin reaches the top of the tallest lily-pad. She takes a moment to breathe in the cool night air, before she turns around, intending to help Kuni up the rest of the way with her vines— only to stumble back and nearly lose her balance when she sees him pop up right next to her.

There’s a glowing green circle behind him, rotating slowly as he hovers in the air. Yuzurin clasps a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart as Kuni steps lightly onto the surface of the lily-pad. “What was that about?”

“I forgot you had a Vision,” Yuzurin shakes her head, a short laugh escaping her as she settles at the edge of the lily-pad, her legs dangling off the sides. “You didn’t have one when we first met.”

“Well, things happened.” Yuzurin raises an eyebrow at his vague reply, and Kuni sighs, defeated. “I’ll tell you more about it later.”

Well, that’s good enough of an answer for Yuzurin. Kuni slowly moves to sit cross legged next to her, and the two of them watch the stars twinkle in Teyvat’s night sky together. After a while, Yuzurin speaks up.

“Thank you,” she says, and Kuni frowns at her, before turning away with a shrug. When Yuzurin tries to peer at his face, he turns away even more.

“I already told you, it wasn’t much effort,” he answers, picking at the edge of the leaf with his fingers. “There’s nothing that you need to thank me for.” Yuzurin ruminates on those words for a few moments, before she begins to speak again.

“Well, if there’s nothing to thank you, I wanted to at least apologise.” She looks over the forest, kicking her feet beneath her. “For the way I acted after you first told me you were in the Fatui. It was rash of me, and I’m quite ashamed of my own actions.”

“It was an understandable reaction—”

Yuzurin holds up a hand, and Kuni falls silent. “Let me finish,” she says gently. “I just wanted you to know that I do not hate you. Not in the least. On the contrary, I…” Yuzurin presses her lips together, suddenly shy. “In fact, I think I like you quite a lot.”

Kuni’s eyes go wide. That takes some of the edge off Yuzurin’s nerves — she’s not the only nervous one here.

“I know that you probably have other places to be, and you can’t stay in Vanarana forever,” Yuzurin continues, keeping her eyes firmly on the trees, “but if you could make some time during your journey to come visit when you’re in Sumeru… I’d be really happy to see you.”

There’s a choked sound next to her, and Yuzurin turns around to see Kuni with a hand over his mouth, looking very flustered.

“I’m not— I’m not flustered.” Kuni’s cheeks look like they are ripening, if the deepening colour of them is anything to go by. His voice is sharp and belligerent, but Yuzurin knows him better than that now. “I’ll visit if I want to. When I want to. I mean, if I want to—”

His retorts are cut off by the sound of Yuzurin’s laughter. “Really,” she says, tilting her head as she looks at Kuni, a fond expression on her face. “Where has the nice, sweet and meek Kuni that I knew gone?” Before Kuni can give another scathing reply, she just smiles. “You’ll have to tell me what happened, okay?”

Kuni huffs, his cheeks still red.

“Okay.”

>>>

Sumeru City hasn’t changed since they’d last left to visit the Pari.

Aether and Paimon make their way through the city, the traveler brushing off grains of sand from the folds of his scarf — he swears that there’s still some sand remaining in his pants — while Paimon points out every food stall they pass by. He’s thinking of stopping by Puspa Cafe for some good, strong coffee when he spots a familiar silhouette.

Scaramouche — or Kuni, Aether supposes — is standing in the shade of a general goods stall. He’s waiting, just as Aether had told him to. It’s amusing, Aether thinks, to see how Scaramouche had changed to the Wanderer, and how the Wanderer had become Kuni. He thinks that he likes this version of the kabukimono the most.

“Kuni,” Aether calls out, and the man looks up, his features immediately twisting into a scowl when he spots him. Still, he lifts the brim of his hat and walks across to him, his veil swaying behind him as he approaches.

“Where is it?” he demands shortly. Aether wants to laugh at his tone, but schools his expression into one of neutrality. Paimon, on the other hand, is not so polite.

“You’re always so rude!” Paimon scolds, crossing her tiny arms across her chest. “You should at least thank us! Did you know how far we had to trek across the desert, with sand blowing in our faces and only cactus fruit juice to drink when—”

Kuni tosses a pita pocket in Paimon’s direction. Paimon lets out a squeal of excitement and races after it, leaving a trail of stars as she goes. Aether raises an eyebrow. “You have a soft spot for her.” He remarks, as he hands his commission to Kuni.

“It’s like learning how to deal with a dog,” Kuni replies, his tone bland. Still, his hands are careful as he checks over the flower in his hands — a beautiful mourning flower from the deserts, in the brightest, most vibrant shade that Aether could find. “Here’s your payment.”

“And there’s your lady,” Aether remarks, as gracefully catching the coin pouch that Kuni drops. The kabukimono looks around wildly, before his eyes settle on Yuzurin. The Kirin is walking through the market, a basket in her hand, but when she sees the two of them, her eyes light up.

She waves brightly to the two of them.

“Go on, then,” Aether says, lightly pushing Kuni forward by the shoulders. The man swears at him, but carefully adjusts his hat before approaching Yuzurin, the Kirin smiling widely when he greets her, his flower still gripped tightly in his hand.

Aether turns away, smiling. Now that that is settled, he has other business to attend to — Paimon.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic

[wisteriashouse]

the crowned jewel.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: royalty au; romance;

word count: 16021

a/n: this fic took me tf out lmao i hope you like it @hinokami-s

The renowned Sumiyuri Palace, crown jewel of the Sumihana Empire, is a breathtaking piece of art, an architectural marvel. Every pillar is carved of the finest marble from the Stonemount Duchy, accents crafted from solid gold and precious metal, expansive grounds covered by rare flowers and shrubs brought in by foreign dignitaries from across the oceans — the palace truly is befitting of its role as the official residence of the ruling family.

And yet, Archduke Rengoku Kyoujurou thinks to himself as he continues his long walk across these very expansive grounds, they could not think to construct the crown princess’ quarters a little closer to the main palace?

The Violet Lily Palace is located near the Southern wing of the palace grounds, furthest from the main gates. The Empress had said that the palace was constructed with the intention of allowing the frail Crown Princess more privacy, but Kyoujurou knows the truth.

Not aloud, of course. The Empress has eyes and ears everywhere in the palace. 

Kyoujurou gives the knights standing station at the doors an affable smile as they greet him with firm bows, handing them his sword. He feels oddly vulnerable without its familiar weight at his side as he steps into the cool shade of the Violet Lily Palace, but it is proper etiquette that he must follow. To bear a weapon into a room with a royal would constitute treason of the highest order.

“Archduke Rengoku.” Kyoujurou looks up to see a familiar red headed figure descending the stairs, hair, shirt and trousers all impeccably straightened out and neat, as usual. “Her Ladyship did not mention that you would be coming by to visit today. If I had known you were coming, I would have made sure that the place was properly prepared to receive a guest.” His tone is cool, the corner of his mouth pulled down in an imperceptible sneer.

It’s clear that he did not expect and does not want the Archduke there, but Kyoujurou only laughs, the sound loud and strong in the quiet guest hall. “I am sure that the royal lodgings of Her Highness are more than fit to welcome a simple Archduke such as myself,” he says, making sure to keep his voice light. “There is no need for you to go out of your way to accommodate me, Hirata.”

The head butler’s amber eyes flick over him with what Kyoujurou can only describe as well concealed annoyance. “You are far too humble, Archduke.” After a moment, he relents and turns, gesturing for Kyoujurou with a gloved hand. “I will bring you to the drawing room and have refreshments prepared. The servants have already gone ahead to inform Her Highness of your arrival.”

“You have my gratitude.” Kyoujurou follows the man through the many grand hallways, glancing over the state of the place as he goes. Before he had started making these surprise visits to the Crown Princess’ estate, the condition of the Violet Lily Palace had shown a severe lack of housekeeping, not at all befitting a member of the royal family. It seems now that the servants are far more wary, Kyoujurou observes.

The two of them stop outside an arched mahogany door decorated with painted lilies of the valley. “Her Ladyship is already inside,” Hirata tells him, before he turns to knock lightly at the door with his knuckles. “Your Highness, Archduke Rengoku has arrived.”

“Send him in.”

The Crown Princess is seated at a lace covered table when Kyoujurou steps into the drawing room, half gazing out over the gardens with a porcelain teacup in one elegant hand. With the late morning sunlight filtering in through the massive, arched windows, Her Highness Sumiyuri Hayami indeed shines as the most beautiful jewel of the empire.

“Your Highness,” Kyoujurou puts a hand over his chest and bows, smiling slightly. “It’s a pleasure to see you. You look as beautiful as ever on this fine morning.”

The Crown Princess’ mouth lifts at the corners demurely, but that simple expression is enough to change her face from merely lovely to as radiant as the crimson dawn. At times such as this, she truly resembles her mother.

“You flatter me, Archduke.” She turns to her butler, who has been standing unobtrusively next to the door. “Hirata, you may leave now.”

“Your Highness, Her Imperial Majesty commanded me to attend to your every need—” 

“Silence.” She quiets him with a cold stare. The quiet clink of porcelain on porcelain as she sets her teacup down speaks enough. “I would like to receive my visitor properly, and you are refusing your master’s orders, disgracing the royal family in front of one of the most noble Archdukes in the kingdom with your shameful behaviour.”

Hirata bows his head, mouth pulled into a thin line. “Apologies for my over-excessive enthusiasm, Your Highness. As per your command, I will take my leave now.”

It is only a few, long moments after the door has clicked shut that Kyoujurou turns to the Crown Princess, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For a moment there, I truly thought you resembled the Empress, your Highness.”

“Don’t even make that joke.” The Crown Princess of the Sumihana Empire groans aloud, slumping over in the chair that she’s sitting at and the fingers of one hand pressed to her temples. “He’s been following me around for days now, unwilling to let me out of his sight. Why, if you had come only one day later, I think I might have gone properly insane.”

“Then it is fortunate that I chose to drop by today,” Kyoujurou laughs, amused by how fast she’d dropped the prim and proper act. Rarely is it that Kyoujurou gets to witness her whine and complain like a child. The fifteen year old child that she is supposed to be, he has to remind himself. 

If her mother were to hear about her unbecoming behaviour, she would surely be whisked away faster than the blink of an eye.

Sumiyuri Hayami is fortunate that Kyoujurou has no love for the Empress of the Sumihana Empire. Or for any member of the ruling family, for that matter.

“And if I have to deal with those traitorous maids one more time, I think I might hurl in their faces myself.” It seems that the crown princess is not yet done with her little tirade. Archduke Rengoku Kyoujurou simply smiles, both hands clasped behind his back, mildly amused by this display. 

“While it is better to let these feelings out rather than keep them in, it is not proper for a lady of your station to use such language, princess,” he reminds her, his deep chuckle reverberating in the spacious expanse of her drawing room. 

Hayami curses, a vulgar word slipping between her lips before she catches herself with both hands clapped over her mouth. “Shit, sorry— what I mean to say is, apologies, Archduke Rengoku, I beg that you forgive my coarse language.” She lets out a bone weary sigh that makes Kyoujurou tired just listening to it. “It seems that I have yet to completely put ‘Hayato’ behind me.”

Sumiyui Hayato, the Crown Prince of the Sumihana Empire, the male twin of the princess sitting before him at this moment and the declared successor to the throne. Not only is he a swordsman renowned throughout the land, best known for his contributions in defending the Empire’s borders against the Demon Moon Kingdom, Sumiyuri Hayato also has a reputation for being notoriously elusive. It is said that it is easier to spot a ghost wandering the palace halls than to catch a glimpse of the Crown Prince.

Kyoujurou wonders just how the people, nobles and commoners alike, would react to the knowledge that their frail and sickly crown princess is also that very crown prince they gossip so much about.

Their frail and sickly crown princess who only attends tea parties and balls when she manages to put together the strength to leave her bed is the crown prince with the ability to cut through ten dark mages in one swing of his sword. Quite a mad deduction to make, Kyoujurou thinks. 

And yet, he turned out to have stumbled across one of the biggest secrets of their Empire.

“I understand you, princess. There is no need to worry about offending me,” Kyoujurou reassures her, making sure to keep the tone of his voice kind and amicable. Princess Hayami often second guesses herself when it comes to recognising a joke or a teasing remark — a byproduct of her mother’s gaslighting for majority of her childhood, he supposes. “Still, it would be in your best interest to remember proper decorum. I would hate for you to make a mistake in the presence of the Empress.”

At his words, Hayami straightens up in the plush, velvet seat of the armchair she was reclining in, shifting uncomfortably as she does so. “But you do understand, do you not, Kyoujurou?”

Ah, his first name. The Crown Princess continues, sounding more desperate now. “I’ve told you of my mother’s plans to force me into the role of the Crown Prince for the rest of my life. My eighteenth birthday is but three years from present, and if my parents cannot find an orphan to assume Hayato’s identity, I will have no choice but to masquerade as a man for the rest of my life.”

She’s at the end of her rope, and Kyoujurou can’t help the pang of concern that runs through him. He’s watched her grow up since she was just a child, from a young princess to a graceful lady to a commander wielding a blood stained sword on the battlefield. He does not want to see the light in her eyes fade even more than they already have.

The spell to change her appearance to that of a man is no easy feat, and it is one that takes a heavy toll on her body. A simple glamour would often do the trick, but the Empress’ paranoia runs deeper than the waters of the Stillwater Dukedom. Every time Hayami leaves the castle for the battlefield, a team of imperial mages sworn to secrecy are called in to transfigure her completely with complicated, secret magicks. Voice, build, height, hair — it’s virtually impossible to tell that she is a woman after the spell is cast.

The physical transformation is painful, but the Empress spares no expense to keep her secrets, especially when she is not the one who has to bear the price. Still, to entertain the idea of using transfiguration magic for the rest of one’s life… Kyoujurou wasn’t sure that the Empress could stoop much lower than she already had, but well, she always manages to surprise him every time.

“I understand,” Kyoujurou repeats, letting his voice become more firm. “However, as powerful as my position as Archduke might be, it is not quite influential enough for me to help you the way you wish.”

“I am not asking you to rebel against my parents,” Hayami insists, her face crumpling like wet paper at his words. “I merely require some… assistance. I am not so selfish as to ask you to put your duchy on the line for my sake.” Rengoku’s brows pull together at that.

“A moment, princess.” He allows his magic to spill from his form, where it is usually contained with iron discipline, spreading it out around the two of them like a heavy blanket. It reaches every corner of the drawing room, through the curtains and the walls and windows, all the way out to the grounds of the building. 

Hayami flinches when the heat of his magic rolls over her in waves, but otherwise keeps still. When he detects no other magical signature other than his own and the princess’, he allows the spell to dissipate, turning to Hayami. 

“You should be more careful,” Rengoku warns, although not unkindly, “about speaking such words aloud so casually. You are already aware of your ladies’ loyalty to the Empress. A little more caution would do you good.”

The Crown Princess swallows, sinking deeper into the softness of her chair. “You have the mind and foresight of a war general both inside and outside the battlefield, Archduke,” she mutters with a shake of the head. “I would do well to learn that from you. Apologies for my foolishness.”

She looks trapped, suffocated. Kyoujurou does not like it.

“You do not need to apologise to me,” he repeats. Looking at the empty seat opposite her for a moment, Kyoujurou eventually sighs deeply before seating himself there, so that he can look the crown princess in the eye.

Hayami’s eyes widen as he does. This sort of behaviour is commonplace between the two when they are on the front lines, sitting side by side at the campfire and sitting close together to preserve warmth and body heat, but she is not used to this sort of behaviour as… herself. “Your Highness, what you must do is make up your mind instead of waiting for fate to make your choices for you. Whether you decide to rise to the throne as the Crown Princess or flee the palace, this is a choice that you yourself need to make, and your time is running out.”

The Archduke is right, as usual. Hayami knows that, and yet she has hesitated for so long already, blindly hoping that things might just somehow take a miraculous turn for the better. Neither choice she makes will be an easy one, of course. But as Rengoku had said, she must be the one to make a choice and act on it—

— or else, fate will be the one to decide it for her.

“I will take your words to heart.” Hayami pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. The more she thinks about this, the more her headache grows. Wanting to steer the topic to something else, she turns to Rengoku. “What about the matter we discussed the last time we conferred?”

At that, the Archduke’s face hardens slightly, but there’s an apologetic look in his eyes when he finally answers. “Senjurou is a hardworking child, but he has no talent with a blade and dealing with political opponents. To ask him to serve in the palace even knowing this… as his older brother, I cannot do such a thing.”

Hayami understands, but she also wants to put her hands in her face and scream. Instead, she busies herself with nibbling at the corner of a jam filled pastry. The sweetness of the treat manages to settle her nerves just a little.

Opposite her, Rengoku picks up a pastry, giving it a cursory glance before popping it into his mouth. “Delicious!” he declares.

Senjuru is a lovely, kind boy, and having him as her closest aide and confidant would remove a massive burden from her mind. Still, Rengoku is right once again, unfortunately this time. To bring that softhearted child into a pit crawling with vipers and snakes… 

Only years of propriety ingrained into her help her resist the urge to run her fingers through her hair in frustration. 

“However,” Rengoku begins, and Hayami’s head turns so quickly that she’s almost overcome by dizziness for a moment, “I would like to propose an… alternative, if you are willing to listen to it.”

“Of course.” Any sort of help at this point couldn’t hurt.

“I might be unwilling to send Senjurou into the palace, but I am able to adopt some children more suitable to palace life — children of good and suitable character — and place them under my care. With my position as the Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy, they would have enough status to enter the palace to support your position.”

Hayami considers this for a long moment, before a gasp escapes her. “That— that is a wonderful idea, Archduke! I never even considered adoption, but…” Her eyes are practically sparkling now, and Kyoujurou thinks that this might be the first time in a long while he’s seen her so excited about something. Truly, no powder or rouge could rival the beauty that hope brings to a person’s face. “With the backing of the Rengoku family, none of the other nobles, not even my mother, would be able to question their entrance into the palace. Rengoku, you’re amazing!”

The Archduke merely smiles, bowing his head. “Your humble subordinate is simply doing his job. There is no need for gratitude, your highness.” He rises to his feet, groaning lightly under his breath when the old injury at his side throbs with a phantom ache. “Then, your Highness, I’ll be heading off to find a child of suitable character.”

“You make it sound as though you’re going to search for apples at the town market,” Hayami smiles, but there’s a familiar furrow between her brows. Worry. “How do you intend to… determine a person of suitable character?”

Of course she would be concerned about this, and she has every right to be. The one who Rengoku brings into the palace will become the person who remains closest by Hayami’s side, her staunchest supporter and her greatest ally. It must feel terribly helpless, having to trust someone else’s judgement regarding something as important as this.

Still…

“This is something that you’ll have to trust me on, princess.” Rengoku glances back at her, an amused smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Have I ever been wrong regarding such matters?”

That seems to be enough to allay her fears, because a quiet laugh escapes the crown princess. “I suppose not,” she says, her eyes softening when she looks at him. “Then, Kyoujurou, I’ll put this matter in your hands.”

The Archduke bows. “As you command, your Highness.”

At midday, the capital of the Sumihana Empire is buzzing with activity. 

Merchants on horse drawn carts make their way down the cobblestone roads, a steady stream of traffic flowing towards the town centre. Shopkeepers and customers alike call out to one another, their voices stirring up the air with a lively atmosphere. And tucked in a quiet avenue of the town stands a little bakery with humble red shingled roofs, a sign bearing the words “Kamado Bakery” hanging outside its door…

“Nezuko, pass me that bag of powdered sugar, would you?” Kamado Tanjirou, possibly the youngest bakery owner in Sumihana and currently covered head to toe in flour, calls over his shoulder. “And please take the raspberry muffins out of the oven! I think they might turn black if they stay inside much longer!”

His younger sister sets a brown paper bag next to him before rushing over to one of the many iron ovens stacked up against the far wall. Heavy, clunky rectangles of metal that belch out smoke and glow red with heat from all the fired coal, these ovens have been in use ever since his great-great-grandfather first opened this bakery.

They’re named “Breath of the Fire God”, his father had told him jokingly, back when Tanjirou had first stepped into the kitchens and immediately shied away from the heat of the flames. If you eat enough baked pastries, you’ll be able to withstand the heat of the flames forever.

His father had then demonstrated the validity of this claim by immediately sticking both bare hands into the oven to pull out a baked treat, something that had caused young Tanjirou to burst into tears and his mother to smack her husband over the head with rebuke.

Don’t go putting any silly ideas into the children’s heads now. He still remembers the sound of his mother’s voice as though she had only spoken the words yesterday. More than the sound of her voice, he recalls the scent of her, of cinnamon and sweet jam and charcoal. 

And the smell of blood, that seems to follow wherever tragedy strikes.

“Brother!” Tanjirou is startled out of his thoughts to see Nezuko looking at him, one hand cocked on her hip and the other busily dusting the flour from her apron. “Brother, what are you spacing out for? We need to get these orders ready before that secret lady’s maid comes to get them.”

“Right, right.” There is no time to dwell on these memories, especially not when there’s such a large order to be completed. Rushing over to the tray that Nezuko had just pulled out of the oven, he begins spreading a thick glaze over the tops with a brush. “She seems to have quite the penchant for round sweets, doesn’t she? Donuts the week before and now muffins. She even requested for her sandwiches to be cut into circles if possible.”

Nezuko snorts as she begins to measure out cups of blueberries. “I can only hope that she doesn’t eat all of these on her own,” she says honestly. “While they’re great business for the bakery, this amount of sugar would probably be enough to give a grown man a heart attack.”

This esteemed customer has been their mysterious benefactor for the past three years, whole purchases alone tided them over the painful period when the two siblings were still coming to terms with the deaths of their family. While other patrons had chosen to try out other bakeries instead, this patron had been adamant on only a specific desert from their bakery.

The knowledge that this patron simply would not relent had gotten Tanjirou to his feet and driven him to fire up the ovens once more. And three years later, well, here they are with the business bigger than it had ever been during the time of their parents.

Till this day, every week or other, a well dressed maid arrives at their bakery to place an order for sweets, and another comes by later in the day to pick them up. Tanjirou might not recognise the tailoring of their clothes (he’s friendly with almost every shop owner in the town), but he’s able to tell that the clothes are of fine make. The one behind these purchases must be a considerably wealthy person.

Although they have never come by in person before, he knows their tastes and preferences by heart now — they have a massive sweet tooth, enjoy flavours that lean towards fruity or floral, and have a strange penchant for circle shaped foods. It’s a little bit of an oddity, but Tanjirou finds it endearing, in a fond sort of way.

“Brother, we don’t have enough blueberries for the fruit jam,” Nezuko calls with a frown. Tanjirou glances over at the bowl, gauging the amount already inside — and Nezuko is right, of course. Her eyes are far better at estimation than his are. 

“Old Man Saburo should have some blueberries that he can spare us,” Tanjirou says, beginning to pull off his apron. “He owes me a favour since I helped carry his goods up a hill this week.”

Nezuko gives him a dubious look as she scoops some sugar into the mixing bowl. “And you also dropped some of his eggs while doing it.”

Unfortunately, his younger sister is right. “He probably won’t be too cross if I explain the situation to him.” The elderly town grocer is infamous for his awful temper, lives alone about two streets down from the bakery and treats them as though they are his own grandchildren. His actual children and grandchildren had died in the same dark mage attack that had killed Tanjirou’s family. He’ll likely still throw a slipper at Tanjirou for cracking his eggs, anyhow. “I’ll go over to his shop right away. Watch the shop for me, alright?”

All in a day’s work, he supposes. Tanjirou is halfway out of the kitchens when Nezuko cries out after him.

“Brother, change out of your clothes first! You’re still covered in flour!”

He looks down at the front of his trousers in surprise.

“Ah.”

As most plans go, things are usually far easier said than done — things such as searching the empire for a child of both good and suitable character. While there are many children in the Sumihana Empire who are kind hearted, compassionate and empathetic, that is not enough for one to survive being thrust into the palace.

And Kyoujurou does not want to put such a burden upon someone who must struggle in the palace. He wants to find someone who can thrive among the wolves.

“Do you have something on your mind, Archduke?” Rengoku turns to look at the man next to him. Murata’s eyes meet his, frowning slightly as he adjusts his grip on the reins, his body swaying slightly with the movement of his steed. “You looked as though you were, uh, lost in your thoughts.”

Rengoku considers him for a moment. Murata is a good natured boy, decently talented with a blade and willing to work hard. Still, he has a tendency to be a little cowardly and freeze up in times of crisis, which makes him unsuitable for accompanying Hayami to the front lines as her guard. A low sigh escapes him as he shakes his head.

“Archduke?”

“It’s no significant matter.” He squeezes his thighs together, spurring his horse into a leisurely trot. The steed’s hooves clip clop rhythmically on the cobblestones, adding to the sounds of the bustling town. Murata frowns, clearly not convinced, but knows better than to press his superior for the issue. “Come, let us finish our patrol for the day and meet up with the rest of the men. It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, Archduke.”

The two of them continue on their patrol route through the town, nodding and greeting the townspeople as they go. Things had been tense in other regions after the recent dark mage attacks, but it seems that the mood in here remains relatively undisturbed, which is a strong indicator of how far fear of the Demon Moon Empire has progressed. It’s good that things are peaceful…

“Help!” Kyoujurou feels the waves of fear rolling through the air just seconds before the shrill, panicked cry breaks through the bustle. “Someone help!”

“Murata, on me.” He’s already turning his steed in the direction of the commotion as his subordinate scrambles to grab the reins. The horses (and the very recognisable Archduke) part the forming crowd easily, and Kyoujurou soon arrives at the scene with Murata right behind him.

He takes stock of the situation with a single glance. A young woman is on the ground, holding what seems to be a fresh bruise on her cheek with wet eyes, a woven basket and its contents spilled over the ground at her side. It must have been her cry that he heard. 

In front of her, two men tussle on the ground. The one below is barking curses and flailing wildly, but the man — no, boy — straddling him has him firmly pinned to the ground by the hips. And he seems to be… lecturing him? “You can’t just attack women in broad daylight,” his voice is firm, his brows furrowed as the man under him continues to struggle. “If she’s turned down your advances, the proper thing for any decent man to do is to respect her wishes.”

Kyoujurou hides his snort of amusement with a polite cough. For a man to be pinned down and lectured by a boy probably half his age, in public no less… It must be humiliating. . He doesn't think this is quite the situation or time for a scolding, but the boy surely has caught his eye now. 

The man under the boy snarls and starts to thrash more violently now, and Kyoujurou can see the boy straining to keep him under control. He begins to dismount, but at that moment, the violent man manages to break free from the boy’s grip.

Kyoujurou raises his hand, heat already flooding through his fingers, but before he can intervene, the boy only sighs in exasperation, before he leans back…

…and headbutts the man, hard.

The sound of two foreheads colliding rings out through the air, and Kyoujurou blinks, astounded, as the man slumps back to the ground, completely knocked out. Behind him, he hears Murata babbling, sounding just as surprised as he is.

“Did you just hear— oh, heavens above, how is that boy’s head not broken after a stunt like that?” Kyoujurou watches as the boy gets off the unconscious man without an ounce of shock, as though headbutting violent men twice his age is something he does on a regular basis, before moving over to return the fallen items to the basket and helping the woman up gently. She sniffs and thanks him profusely, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “His skull must be as thick as a rock, really—”

“Murata.” His subordinate cuts off his rambling at once, snapping to attention. “Have the man arrested and brought back to cells for harassment of citizens and disrupting the peace.”

“Yes, Archduke.” Murata is about to dismount when Kyoujurou adds on. “Do not mention that you are here with me. I’d like to have words with the young man.”

“The criminal, sir?”

“No, the boy, Murata.” Kyoujurou lets out a laugh of amusement and claps his subordinate on the shoulder, hurrying him along. As he’d thought, Murata would probably be eaten alive if he were to enter the palace. “Really…”

He watches unobtrusively from behind as Murata steps through the crowd, the crest on his uniform on proud display. A pair of magic cuffs around his wrists, and a stream of water summoned from a washerwoman’s tub nearby to lift the unconscious man into the air. “Everything is under control,” Murata announces loudly to the onlookers. “There is no need for any worry or panic.”

With the dramatics over, the crowd slowly begins to disperse. Kyoujurou, on the other hand, runs a hand along his horse’s mane and casts a cloaking spell over the two of them — a complex magic that completely diverts any attention in their direction away from them. Spell in place, Kyoujurou nudges his steed, who sets off at a calm trot.

The boy escorts the young woman back to what Kyoujurou deduces is her house, smiling brightly and waving before he sets off once more. Kyoujurou follows him from a distance the rest of the way, down the winding streets to one of the quieter avenues, where he steps through the door of one of the shophouses.

Kyoujurou gives the shophouse a cursory glance. The sign hanging above the door says “Kamado Bakery”.

When the boy does not exit after a few moments, Kyoujurou directs his magic into his ears, sharpening his hearing and tuning out all surrounding noise.

“... and there was this man who was trying to get a lady to go out with him, but he got all violent and angry when she refused!” The boy’s voice is surrounded by heat and flames — some sort of stove or oven, perhaps? — and he seems to be talking to someone else. “So I headbutted him.”

“You are so reckless, brother…” Another voice, distinctively female and sounding amused, replies. “And you still forgot to bring back the blueberries for the order!”

A pause, before he picks up a slight hint of embarrassment radiating outwards from within the shop. Kyoujurou dismounts his steed, brushing off his pants before striding over to the door. “Right, it completely slipped my mind. I’ll go get them right away—”

“No, no, I’ll go. Knowing you, you’ll probably forget them again playing hero or something to another victim in distress—”

Kyoujurou knocks at the door lightly.

“—a customer?”

“I’ll go and check it out—” 

The door swings open.

The Archduke can’t be standing outside their door.

It must be another man with flaming red and yellow hair, a sword hanging from his hip and those blazing amber eyes who’s at the entrance of their humble bakery, because there is no way that that man is the Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy.

The Flameheart Duchy is one of the five major archduchies in the Sumihana Empire, alongside the Stillwater, Thunderclap, Stonemount and Whirlwind Duchies. A prominent bloodline in the Empire that has endured for generations, the Rengokus are second in authority and prestige only to the royal family. For its Archduke, of all people, to be here…

Yes, hallucination seems far more likely. She’s been inhaling too much fumes from the ovens, and needs a long extended vacation to the Stillwater Duchy — she’s heard many things about its beautiful, calming lakes.

Nezuko opens her mouth, closes it, stares at the door handle she’s holding — wondering if shutting the door would cause the hallucination to disappear, when the hallucination speaks.

“A pleasant day to you, young lady.” Even his voice sounds refined and polished, rich as mahogany and solid as cedar. “Might you be the owner of this bakery?”

A choked noise escapes Nezuko. The Archduke mercifully does not seem to mind her unintelligible response, instead smiling slightly down at her. “I’d like to purchase some bread, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Wouldn’t mind? If she wouldn’t mind? Who is she to mind?

“Of, uh, of course not.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and Nezuko craves the sweet release of death. Fortunately, she at least remembers to bow low when she ushers the Archduke in. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Make yourself at home? In the bakery? Before she can beat herself up over her choice of words, the Archduke has already stepped inside, glancing over the pastries on display. She cannot understand why the archduke of the Flameheart Duchy would choose to come to their humble bakery when there are so many more bigger, reputable bakeries in the capital. Their family bakery has the best baked goods in Nezuko’s completely unbiased, objective opinion, but their primary customers are the local townspeople, not archdukes!

She trails behind the Archduke wordlessly, as timid as a mouse. The tall man glances over the many breads, looking over the selection thoughtfully before he moves over to the pastry section. 

He stops suddenly, and Nezuko’s heart drops into her stomach, nerves making her stomach go funny. “Do you make these yourself?” he asks, pointing at… a tray of round jam-filled pastries. 

“N-no,” she manages to say, staring at the tray and wondering just why he had pointed that specific pastry out. Is there something that he finds unsatisfactory with the quality? Will the archduke report them to the authorities? Are they going to have to close the bakery? “My older brother bakes the sweets and desserts — I’m better with bread.”

“Ah, of course,” the Archduke smiles pleasantly at her. So they’re not in trouble after all? “It’s a beautiful bakery that you have here. Does it belong to your parents?”

“The rest of my family died in the dark mage attack three years ago.” The words drop from Nezuko’s mouth like stones. “It’s just my brother and I now.”

The Archduke’s gaze turns sympathetic. “I am very sorry to hear that. My apologies for bringing up painful memories.”

“No, no,” Nezuko shakes her head vigorously. “It’s nothing that you need to feel sorry about, your Grace—”

“Nezuko, what’s taking you so long?” Her brother calls from the kitchen, sounding completely unaware of just who he’s interrupting outside. “If you don’t get the blueberries now, we won’t be able to complete the order in time.”

The Archduke turns in the direction of the voice, before glancing at Nezuko with a smile. “Would you do me the favour of asking your brother to come here? I’d like to exchange some words with him, if he’s not too busy.”

Brother’s dead. The Archduke is going to cut off his head for interrupting him, and then she’ll have to figure out how to bake sweets on her own if she wants to keep the place running. Luckily, her older brother saves her from having to send him to his death… by walking to it of his own accord. “Nezuko, really, what are you doing that’s taking so long—”

He freezes upon seeing the Archduke in their bakery.

“A pleasant day to you,” the Archduke says lightly. Her brother stares at the man before him, hands frozen on the whisk and mixing bowl in his hands. Behind the Archduke, Nezuko flails her arms wildly in an attempt to catch her brother’s attention. Bow! Bow right now, he’s the Archduke, you absolute clown!

Her brother’s attention is not caught. Instead, he continues to gape at the Archduke until the man speaks again, smiling. He must be used to people going tongue tied around him. “What are your names, young man?”

Tanjirou fumbles to reply. “Kamado Tanjiru— I mean, Tanjirou, your Grace.” He gestures awkwardly at Nezuko. “That’s my younger sister, Nezuko.”

The Archduke nods thoughtfully at that, folding his arms across his chest. “Tanjirou, Nezuko,” he repeats, before he turns to Tanjirou. “Young Tanjirou, would you like to become the sole heir to the Flameheart Archduchy?”

The bowl in Tanjirou’s hands nearly goes clattering to the ground, but the Archduke catches it right before it can make a mess, setting the bowl on the counter before turning back to the two of them. Nezuko can’t help but think that this is all really just one big hallucination. “What do you think?”

“I uh, I’m, uhh…” Tanjirou manages, sounding as though his mind is somewhere far, far away, “but I err… need to buy blueberries. For this order. It’s a, uhh, really big order.”

The Archduke laughs, a warmth, rich sound that makes Nezuko’s gut turn in confusion. He doesn’t sound… upset, or as though he’s laughing in contempt at them for their response to his joke. Because this has to be… some sort of joke among the nobles, right?

“I will have the finest blueberries in the capital sent over from the palace in a moment to make up for your lost time,” Archduke Rengoku reassures, still smiling pleasantly. “About my proposition, however… would you be willing to consider it?”

“I, uh. Sure.” Tanjirou sets the whisk aside before he can drop that too. “But uh, if your Grace doesn’t mind me asking… why?” 

The Archduke hesitates for a moment, the first expression of unsurety that Nezuko has seen him wear ever since he stepped into their bakery. “Well,” he begins slowly, careful not to mention the Crown Princess, “a very good friend of mine in the palace needs a person of good and reliable character that they can trust to serve as their aide. Due to most of the people within the palace already bearing existing loyalties, I came here to find such a person.”

“And you decided on me,” Nezuko’s brother says slowly, as though he’s still trying to wrap his head around all of this. “But if I may, uhh, ask, your Grace, I don’t see what this has to do with me becoming the sole heir of the Flameheart Duchy. I’m just a commoner.”

“Not if my father, Rengoku Shinjuro, adopts you,” the Archduke says very seriously. Rengoku Shinjuro, the previous Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy, adopting Tanjirou? “With that, you would be qualified to enter the palace and stand at Her H— my friend’s side.”

Tanjirou licks his lips, eyes darting left to right until they meet Nezuko’s. She tries to convey the idea that he should be jumping at the opportunity right now. If the Archduke is speaking the truth, this offer would be a chance like no other. When else would an archduke come to a humble bakery and offer to adopt a commoner? 

Guessing from the hesitant, uneasy look on her brother’s face, however, Nezuko has the feeling that he’s about to do something stupid, which he does.

“I’m afraid that I have to refuse, your Grace,” he says, slow yet straightforward. “As the older brother, I have to stay and take care of my sister.”

Nezuko puts her head in her hands. What is he talking about? She can take perfectly good care of herself, thank you very much! The Archduke seems to share the sentiment that he is saying something ridiculous, because he laughs.

“Worry not,” Archduke Rengoku then says. “Of course I would not separate two such close knitted siblings. Nezuko will be adopted as well, educated as any of the other noble ladies, and a title will be conferred upon her. Should you agree to my proposition, of course.”

Nezuko’s eyes go wide at that. Educated as a noble lady… does that mean she will be able to wear the pretty dresses she’s only been able to read about in her novels, walk about in a luxurious estate, and attend romantic balls?

“I must warn the two of you, however,” the Archduke continues, “that the life in the palace is nothing like the fairy tales depict it. Political strife and underhanded sabotage tactics are common among some of the nobles, and you will need to learn to deal with such incidents. The training will be difficult, but I believe that the two of you will be able to overcome the challenges.”

Tanjirou hesitates, before he manages a firm nod. “Since you’ve chosen the two of us,” he says slowly, “I assume that you think that we are suitable. I’ll believe in your judgement, Your Grace.”

The Archduke smiles at that, before turning to Nezuko. “And if you do well in your training,” Archduke Rengoku adds, as though he can read her mind, “you will be able to enter the palace as well, as a lady-in-waiting.”

Nezuko turns to look at her older brother, eyes sparkling and her hands clasped. “Brother.”

Upon seeing the look on his sister’s face, Tanjirou holds back a smile, turning to the Archduke hesitantly. “Well then, if your Grace would be so kind…” The Archduke, however, holds up a hand to stop him. Nezuko and Tanjirou both look at him, immediately cautious. Is there some sort of twist to this offer?

“Since you will be my adopted siblings very soon, the two of you should get used to calling me older brother,” the Archduke — no, Kyoujurou — says, a lighthearted glint in his amber eyes as he gives Tanjirou a friendly clap on the shoulder. 

Tanjirou splutters at that, while Nezuko beams in delight. “Older brother!” she says instantly. Kyoujurou laughs, amused by her eagerness.

“I see that you are a quick study,” he remarks, and Nezuko practically glows at the praise. “I’m sure that you’ll fit right into nobility in a matter of months.”

Tanjirou watches all this with a tentative smile on his face.

This is the beginning of a new life for them both.

More than a year passes before the Flameheart Archduke — no, Older Brother — declares Tanjirou and Nezuko finally ready to enter the palace. 

For the entire duration of their training period, Kyoujurou had kept them completely hidden away in the confines of the Duchy. “I’d prefer for certain… people to keep their noses out of my Duchy’s business,” Kyoujurou had explained to Tanjirou when he’d asked. 

His older brother has not yet revealed to him just who it was that he was adopted to protect, but there are only so many people in the palace who are of higher rank than an Archduke. Tanjirou feels butterflies fluttering in his stomach whenever he thinks about being the personal guard to a royal, but today, the butterflies feel more like a hive of angry hornets.

Today is the day that he is to be formally introduced into noble society, after all.

Tanjirou stands before the full length mirror in his chambers, tying, unfastening and then retying the silk cravat at his neck. He’s lost track of just how much time he’s spent going through the same motions, only to end up unsatisfied with the result. His favourite silk cravat is a misbehaving thing today, refusing to fall or fold in a satisfactory way.

He is going to meet his master for the first time today. Tanjirou cannot allow himself to give them a less than satisfactory impression, under any circumstance.

“Brother, if you delay any longer we’ll be late for our visit to the palace!” The doors to his chambers suddenly burst open, Nezuko striding inside in a flurry of pink and white skirts. “Don’t tell me that you’re getting cold feet now!”

“Don’t be silly, Nezuko,” Tanjirou sighs, studying the cravat at his neck once more. He’d pulled the knot a little too far to the left, and if he adjusts it now, the black and green squares that decorate the silk will not be aligned properly. His younger sister steps up next to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

The little strings of crystals twisted into her hair catch the light of the chandelier, her neck and ears adorned with perfectly round freshwater pearls. A gift delivered by the Stillwater Duchy’s Archduke Tomioka, upon hearing of Kyoujurou’s plans to introduce the two of them today. Tanjirou’s own gift sits at his hip, a beautifully crafted and lacquered scabbard furnished with mother-of-pearl lining.

“We’ll never make it to the palace if you keep on sighing like that,” Nezuko chides, and before he can answer, she plucks the cravat from his hand. Her fingers are quick and deft as they secure the green silk in place, and gentle when they tug to tighten the knot. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Tanjirou glances in the mirror again. For some reason, the cravat doesn’t look the least bit out of place now. Then again, Nezuko was always better at decorating the cakes in the bakery than he was.

He manages a smile, turning to Nezuko, who’s smiling brightly at him. “Thank you,” he says, reaching over to pick up his outer coat and shrug it on. The ironed and pressed fabric falls down to his knees, the cut of the dark green wool giving him a refined silhouette. It’s strange, looking at his own reflection like this. “Who would have ever thought that we would be dressed like this?”

Nezuko laughs behind him. “Surely not I, for one.” Reaching out, she tugs at his wrist, pulling her along with him. “Come now, this isn’t the time for nostalgia! It’s a wonderful and exciting day, so let’s get going!”

The two siblings make their way to the grand hall where the Archduke is waiting for them. Kyoujurou grins widely when he sees Tanjirou. “Why, you were taking so long that I thought that you had decided to run away!”

“That thought never even crossed my mind,” Tanjirou answers, knowing full well that the Flameheart Archduke is teasing him. The Archduke’s eyes run over the two of them standing side by side, then nods, looking pleased. 

“The two of you would blend perfectly into high society right now,” he says approvingly, before his tone turns more professional. “Let us head for the palace.”

The carriage ride takes up the better part of the morning. Still, the distance feels too short when Tanjirou steps out of the carriage, nearly forgetting to help Nezuko out after him with how his nerves are thrumming with anticipation. 

Two servants immediately rush up to greet them as Kyoujurou makes his way into the Sumihana Palace, Nezuko and Tanjirou flanking him. The luxury of the Flameheart Estate might have taken Tanjirou by surprise when he’d first stepped through its doors, but the opulence of the royal palace steals the air from his lungs. It nearly takes every ounce of self control in him to avoid craning his head around like a curious owl as they make their way through the palace.

At the end of yet another long, finely decorated hallway, they meet a young woman with striking pink hair the colour of Nezuko’s dress. Tanjirou instantly recognises her, having seen her around the Flameheart Duchy on occasion despite never having actually spoken to her in person.

“Oh, Archduke Kyoujurou! You have no idea how long I’ve been anticipating your arrival today,” the young lady gushes, laced skirts swishing about her gracefully as she hurries over to them, her cheeks radiant and eyes sparkling with excitement. “These must be your charges! They look absolutely lovely!”

“Kanroji, meet Tanjirou and Nezuko,” Kyoujurou nods at them both with a proud smile, “Tanjirou and Nezuko, this is Lady Mitsuri of the Kanroji of the Kanroji Marquessate as well as one of Her Highness the Princess’ ladies in waiting.”

“Lady Mitsuri,” Tanjirou reaches out to take her hand, pressing his lips against her gloved hand. Behind him, Nezuko dips into a graceful curtsy, lowering her head.

“It is my deepest pleasure to meet you, Lady Mitsuri.”

 The lady in question giggles after Tanjirou releases her hand, pulling out a lace fan to cool her blushing cheeks. “My, my, haven’t you taught them exceptionally well, Kyoujurou?” The Archduke simply laughs at that, waving it off.

“It was all Senjurou’s tutoring that is to be praised — I myself am far from exemplary at etiquette.” Kyoujurou turns to Nezuko. “Nezuko, Lady Mitsuri here will be introducing you to Her Highness the Princess now. You can trust that you’re in good hands with her.”

Tanjirou catches his sister swallow slightly, but other than that, she maintains all the poise expected of a born and bred noble lady, nodding demurely in response. “I understand, Older Brother.”

“Good.” Tanjirou watches as his younger sister is escorted away by Lady Mitsuri, the older woman already beginning to chatter about the earrings that she’s wearing. “There is no need to worry.”

Tanjirou glances up to see Kyoujurou looking meaningfully at him, arms crossed over his chest and his expression relaxed. “Lady Mitsuri is a lady of fine character and has a hospitable and welcoming nature, not to mention a friend that I have fought with side by side in the demon wars. Nezuko will be fine with her, I assure you.”

Tanjirou nods slowly, grateful for Kyoujurou’s perceptiveness. “Thank you, Older Brother.”

“There is nothing to thank me for.” The Archduke reaches out to squeeze Tanjirou’s shoulder before steering him in the opposite direction. “Now, let’s go take a look at the Royal Barracks before it’s your turn to meet Her Highness.”

Nezuko follows Lady Mitsuri through the palace grounds to the Violet Lily Palace, which Lady Mitsuri tells her is the residence of the Crown Princess Sumiyuri Hayami. The place is stunning beyond compare, decorated with floral motifs of a great and numerous variety, but Nezuko finds it difficult to push down the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

She’d only seen the sickly Crown Princess once a few years ago, on one of the rare occasions when her Highness had left the palace to welcome her twin brother back from fighting the demon wars. Even then, sitting in a carriage and half hidden behind a veil of white lace, the Crown Princess had taken her breath away with her beauty.

There have been ballads, poems and songs spread in the local taverns ever since then about the Crown Princess’ enchanting looks, calling her the greatest and fairest beauty in the land, surpassing even that of the Demon Moons’ Enchantress, Daki.

Still, Nezuko had never paid them much mind — most of what the minstrels sang tended to be heavily exaggerated for the sake of performance. Regardless of how beautiful the princess might look, all of it will be worth nothing if she has an awful personality.

“We’re here.” Lost in her thoughts, Nezuko snaps out of her own head to realise that the two of them are standing before a door. The swallows and flowers are etched into the wood with gold, and Nezuko knows at once that the princess is on the other side of it. “Her Highness is inside, waiting to meet you. Go on in!”

Wetting her dry lips, Nezuko reaches out tentatively to grip the gilded door handle, careful not to be too loud as she pushes it open. The door swings open silently and upon stepping through the doorway, Nezuko is immediately greeted by the soft, subtle fragrance of chamomile tea.

Seated at the table, dainty and elegant, is a young woman with long platinum hair that spills down her back and soft, regal features. She reminds Nezuko of the porcelain dolls that the toymaker along her street would make sometimes, with pretty pink lips and beautiful, elaborately embroidered dresses. The portraits of the Crown Princess don’t do her beauty justice at all, Nezuko thinks.

“Greetings, Your Highness.” Nezuko’s knees tremble a little when she does her curtsy, and she desperately hopes that the Crown Princess does not notice when she straightens up once more. “My name is Kamado Nezuko, ward of Archduke Rengoku. It’s my honour to meet you.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Nezuko.” Even her voice sounds like the tinkling of wind chimes in the breeze. “I heard that you are to become my newest lady in waiting. I’m honoured that you would avail yourself for this position.”

“I-I—” She is honoured? Why, Nezuko is the one who is honoured to be accepted as one of the Crown Princess’ ladies in waiting! “The honour is all mine, Your Highness. I, um, permission to speak, Your Highness?”

The Crown Princess raises an eyebrow over the rim of her teacup, surprised, but acquiesces with a nod. “You are my lady-in-waiting now,” she says, “of course you may speak freely around me. In fact, I’d much rather prefer it if you do.”

Nezuko glances at Lady Mitsuri standing by her side, who nods encouragingly. Well, if Older Brother Kyoujurou had said that she was to be trusted, then she would put her faith in him. Slowly, she opens her mouth.

“Your Highness, you are so, so pretty,” Nezuko gushes instantly, her eyes wide with awe. “I’ve seen portraits of you before, but none of the painters did you any justice — you’re really like a fairy princess come to life! And your skin is so nice and smooth — I’ve been trying to get my own that clear for ages now, but I just can’t seem to figure out how. How do you do it, your Highness?”

The Crown Princess blinks at her, looking surprised — Nezuko is almost worried that she might have spoken a little too much out of line — but then Her Highness suddenly laughs. She sounds amused.

“Oh, Archduke Rengoku was right — you truly are an endearing child,” Crown Princess Hayami says. Lady Mitsuri laughs, nodding in agreement. “Well, how about I let you try out my skincare routine? You can see what works for you.”

Nezuko gasps. “You’d really let me do that, Your Highness?”

“You are my lady-in-waiting now, so it is only expected that you should become intimately familiar with my daily routine to serve me better.” There’s a spark of amusement in the Crown Princess’ soft lilac eyes. “And what better way is there to do that but to experience it yourself?”

Nezuko flushes with excitement, trying her best to contain her smile. It seems that she and the Crown Princess will get along very well.

Tanjirou’s introduction to the Crown Princess goes just as smoothly.

“When His Highness the Crown Prince Hayato leaves the palace for the warfront, you are to accompany him to fight on the frontlines,” Kyoujurou had explained, when the Archduke had first taken him in. “However, in the time that he returns to the palace, you are to assume position next to Her Highness the Crown Princess Hayami as her personal guard.”

Never in his life would Tanjirou have thought that he would ever meet the Crown Princess of the Empire face to face, much less become her guard. Her Highness is infamous throughout the country for her otherworldly beauty, inherited from her mother the Empress, as well as her frail, sickly constitution.

Outside the door to her Highness’ drawing room, the Archduke pauses to look over his shoulder at Tanjirou. “You ready, Tanjirou?”

“I don’t think I ever will be,” Tanjirou answers honestly, adjusting his cravat. With nothing left for him to occupy himself with, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Let us enter.”

The Crown Princess is seated at a tea table, helping herself to a jam filled pastry when Tanjirou and Kyoujurou walk into the room. She glances up, hand pausing halfway to her mouth as though instinctively guilty for being caught eating, before she realises who it is.

“Archduke Rengoku,” she says, holding out her hand so that Kyoujurou can kiss it, which he does with all the refinement of a seasoned gentleman. Her pale, lilac eyes slide over to rest on Tanjirou, and Tanjirou is overcome by the urge to avert his own, although he manages to resist it. That gaze feels as though it is peering into his very soul. “And this is…?”

“Your Highness, this is Kamado Tanjirou, one of the charges that I have taken into my house.” Kyoujurou clasps his shoulder firmly, urging him forward. “Tanjirou, this is Her Highness the Crown Princess, Sumiyuri Hayami.”

“An honour to meet you, Your Highness.” Tanjirou bows his head as he takes the princess’ hand, pressing his lips lightly against her silk glove. The subtle scent of fresh jasmine, rose and petrichor cling to her clothes and skin. Has she just been out in a flower garden? 

“As it is mine.” Pleasantries exchanged, the two of them simply… look at each other for a moment before glancing away. Tanjirou’s heart is pounding just a little too hard in his chest. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

Ever the perceptive man, Kyoujurou glances between the two, and, sufficiently amused by their mutual awkwardness, decides to remove himself. “I’ll be heading out first, Your Highness,” he tells the crown princess, who nods somewhat reluctantly. “Pardon me.” With that, he’s gone, leaving nary a laugh behind him as he goes.

And then, the two of them are left alone.

Tanjirou glances at the princess out of the corner of his eye, too awkward to initiate a conversation. Her long, platinum hair falls all the way down to her hips, pulled back in a thick braid reminiscent of Lady Mitsuri’s — her handiwork, perhaps? — and styled with an amethyst clasp that sparkles in the sunlight, the precious stone the size of a babe’s fist. 

Still, after meeting the Crown Princess face to face, Tanjirou does not quite understand what is so frail about Her Highness. He’d heard multiple times that Crown Princess Sumiyuri Hayami has a weak body and poor constitution, but the beautiful, radiant young lady before him does not seem frail in any sense of the word. In fact, she seems to be glowing with energy.

“You are to become my personal guard for as long as my brother is in the palace,” Tanjirou’s head snaps up at the Crown Princess’ softly spoken words, “is that right, Sir Tanjirou?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

At that, she smiles for the first time — at him — and Tanjirou fights the urge to duck his head down immediately once more. “Would you take a seat opposite me, then? I’d like to get to know the man who will be guarding my life properly, and we can start by having afternoon tea together.”

“Oh, there’s no need for your kind consideration, Your Highness,” Tanjirou rushes to reassure her. He and the Crown Princess of the Sumihana Empire sitting at the same table, having tea and snacks? His past self would have fainted upon hearing such a thing. “I am perfectly alright with remaining at a standing position by your side.”

“So you mean to tell me that you desire to refuse my order?”

Tanjirou nearly chokes. “No, of course not, Your Highness!” At his response, the Crown Princess lets out a laugh, raising a silk gloved hand to stifle the sound. Tanjirou thinks it’s a pity that high society demands for such reservedness. The Crown Princess’ laughter sounds like music to his ears. “If it would please you, then I would like nothing more than to join you.”

She smiles at him then. “It would please me.” And so, Tanjirou finds himself sitting at the table with the Crown Princess, three perfectly macarons placed on his china plate. “I hope you enjoy sweets, Sir Tanjirou.”

“I do.” Tanjirou can’t quite tell her that he used to be a baker, so he accepts them graciously. “Thank you, Your Highness.” The Crown Princess looks at him with a flash of amusement in her soft lilac eyes.

“You can tone it down with the formalities, Sir Tanjirou,” she tells him, a playful lilt to her voice. “Your Highness sounds so stifling… You can simply call me Princess Hayami, if you’d like.”

For the second time that day, Tanjirou nearly chokes on a bite of macaron. Coughing as the sweetness floods his mouth, he reaches for the napkin as he shakes his head desperately. “I couldn’t possibly, Your Highness,” he says in alarm. “Doing so would be terribly rude, especially from a lowly one such as myself—”

He pauses for a moment. Well, since the Archduke of the Flameheart Duchy did adopt them into his family, Tanjirou would technically be considered as a member of high nobility now.

“Truly?” The Crown Princess remarks, looking surprised. “Not even when you are one of the few men in this entire Empire with the status to ask for my hand in marriage?”

Tanjirou momentarily wonders if the Crown Princess dislikes him after all, because she seems to be trying to get rid of him today by getting him to choke. Mind painfully blank and his tongue thick in his mouth, Tanjirou reaches for the steaming pot straight off the brazier without thinking, intending to pour himself a cup of tea to calm his frazzled nerves.

“Oh, Sir Tanjirou, you must not touch the pot with your bare hands—” The Crown Princess begins to cry out, her voice sharp with concern, but her words trail off when she realises that Tanjirou is not at all affected by the heat. She pulls out a fan when she seats herself once again, looking embarrassed. “I did forget for a moment there that you are a member of the Flameheart Duchy.”

The Rengoku bloodline — and the Flameheart Duchy, by extension — are famed far and wide for producing the finest fire-wielding mages in the Empire, generation after generation. That had been one of the other reasons why the Archduke had decided to take him and Nezuko in, after realising that the two of them had innate talent for similar magic.

“I apologise for startling you, Your Highness,” Tanjirou says gently, setting the pot back down after filling his own cup. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine, other than my pride.” She tugs at the end of her long braid, looking slightly awkward — her expression tugging at Tanjirou’s heartstrings, and he’s just met the Princess today! — before glancing to the side. “Well, I suppose that the two of us are getting to know each other, just as I’d hoped, so I cannot make a fuss about it.”

Tanjirou feels his heartbeat pick up at her words, but has to quickly remind himself that he is here to be her guard, and imagining anything more will do him no good. “I, too, am looking forward to knowing more about you, Your Highness.”

The Crown Princess smiles at him, and Tanjirou instantly knows that he is doomed for failure.

The Crown Princess loves the flower gardens, Tanjirou learns after a week in her service. Sometimes he worries that she might be too frail and run into some sort of mishap outside, but Her Highness hasn’t had such an incident yet. “Besides, taking walks outside and enjoying the sunlight would be better for me than being cooped up in my chambers all day,” she’d insisted, and well, who is Tanjirou to disobey the Crown Princess? 

“Some of the flowers here are planted by my own hand,” she tells Tanjirou conspiratorially on one such walk through the rose gardens. “When I was younger, my mother wasn’t fond of me leaving my chambers, so I would have to sneak out to tend to the plants that I’d seeded. Look at these,” she points to a set of beautiful trellises leaning against the wall in the shape of honeycombs, “I told the head gardener that I wanted to grow some sweet peas so he had these made for me, but in truth I used it as a ladder to sneak out of my bedroom at night.”

Tanjirou stifles a laugh behind his hand. “You seem to have been quite the spirited rule breaker when you were younger, Your Highness.”

She’s dressed in a light, cream coloured dress today, her layered skirts floating about her ankles like the morning mist. Her hair is pulled up into a simple french twist today, kept in place by several gold hairpins with jewelled flowers. As he watches, the Crown Princess plucks a small white daisy from the grass and tucks it into her hair.

“I don’t deny that. I also used to sneak out of my chambers when my cousin’s tea parties were happening.” Princess Hayami continues to make her way through the gardens, Tanjirou following closely behind her. When they reach the red brick wall that makes up the perimeter of the Crown Princess’ residence, she reaches for one of the bushes lining the wall and tugs it away — revealing a cleverly concealed hole behind it. “If you go through this and follow the path on the other side, it would take you straight to the Water Lily Garden. I did this for ages until the head butler caught me with my muddy knees.”

Tanjirou is quiet for a moment. For all the childhood memories she’s described to him thus far, it seems that her direct family — father, mother and twin brother — are all absent from her life. The Emperor is negligent while the Empress never shows any concern, and her brother… The entire time Tanjirou has been by the Crown Princess’ side, Crown Prince Hayato has not visited his sister’s residence even once. 

Tanjirou cannot imagine ever treating his own sister, Nezuko, this way.

“Sir Tanjirou?” The Crown Princess leans down to frown at him, confused by his sudden silence. “Sir Tanjirou, are you feeling unwell, perhaps?”

He immediately shakes his head. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you that I am alright, Your Highness.” At his answer, Princess Hayami hums contemplatively, twirling the stem of a flower between her slender fingers before she lights up visibly.

“Let us sneak through into the Water Lily Garden,” the Crown Princess suggests all of a sudden. 

Tanjirou blinks at her, caught by surprise. “Your Highness, you are no longer restricted by Her Majesty the Empress — you are free to go anywhere you’d like in the palace. We can simply walk over to the Water Lily Garden if you’d like.” The princess shakes her head at him, a playful smile curling at the corner of her painted lips.

“It’s not about the destination, Sir Tanjirou, it’s about sneaking out,” she tells him, and before he can say anything else, is already squeezing herself through the small opening in the wall. Tanjirou stares in open mouthed shock as the Crown Princess of the Empire disappears from his sight, before a pale hand sticks itself back through the hole, gesturing for him to follow. “Hurry and come through! And make sure to cover the hole behind you!”

Unable to disobey his master’s orders, Tanjirou glances around, desperately hoping that no one is looking, before squeezing himself through the hole as well. The top of his head almost brushes the circumference of the hole and he nearly forgets to tug the false bush back into place after him, but he still manages to make it safely out on the other side.

“Follow me,” the Crown Princess says excitedly, taking Tanjirou by the sleeve of his coat. Together, the two of them make their way down a little dirt path that winds through walls of thick hedges. “This is a hedge maze near the Water Lily Garden,” she explains as she navigates them through the confusing paths. “I memorised the way out with how often I came through here. If we hurry, we might be able to catch one of my cousin’s tea parties happening right now.”

She does make one or two wrong turns, but always rectifies her error almost immediately — Tanjirou’s nose can already begin to pick up the scent of water lilies and high tea. All this time, her fingers remain tightly grasping onto his sleeve, as though worried that he might get lost if she lets go. 

The two of them eventually emerge from the hedge maze, sparrows and butterflies fluttering about. A distance away, Tanjirou can see a high tea party ongoing, with several noble ladies seated at a gazebo situated in the middle of a crystal clear lake. The hum of their idle chatter drifts across its surface, dotted with pink water lilies, to reach the two of them.

“It’s as you said, Your Highness,” Tanjirou nods, brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder. “Lady Kagami is indeed having a tea party at the moment. Shall we head over to join them?”

The Crown Princess, however, only stares at the tea party happening on the lake — a picturesque scene straight out of a fairy tale, with beautiful ladies and laughter and tea and cakes all around — before she turns back to Tanjirou with a slight, more… bittersweet smile on her face. “This is enough,” she says quietly, still smiling. “This is what I used to do — watch from a distance. The Empress didn’t like me interacting with too many of the noble ladies from lesser houses, and I wouldn’t know what to do now even if I wanted to participate in one.”

Tanjirou frowns openly at that. “Nearly all of the houses in the Empire are beneath the Royal family. Does this mean that you’ve never had the opportunity to experience one?” The Crown Princess nods, before she turns away. “Come now, we should return to the Violet Lily Palace before Head Butler Hirata catches us. He’d be delighted to have any opportunity to report me to my mother.”

“Understood, Your Highness.” Tanjirou holds out his arm to Princess Hayami. She looks down at it with surprise, before it melts into a smile. 

“Let us be on our way then, Sir Tanjirou,” she says, and the two of them make their way back through the hedge maze, through the little hole in the wall and up the honeycomb trellis — for nostalgia’s sake, the princess says. And when he waves her farewell from the garden, Tanjirou’s mind is already whirling with a hundred different ideas — and only one mission that he must achieve.

A few days later, Tanjirou greets the Crown Princess in the late morning just as he always does, except this time, he extends his arm to her once more, just as he had that day in the hedge maze. “I am to escort you to the rose gardens, Your Highness.”

Hayami frowns, a little at a loss and vaguely confused. She does not remember having anything scheduled for today, but in the short time she has known Tanjirou, she has learnt that he is detailed and diligent and far less forgetful than she is — so she simply takes his arm and allows him to escort her down to the rose gardens.

“Remind me, Sir Tanjirou,” she phrases her question carefully, “who am I meeting again today?”

To her surprise, however, her usually-steadfast guard simply answers with “You’ll see soon, Your Highness.” Hayami doesn’t know just what he’s being so evasive for today, but it doesn’t make her feel any less nervous about this meeting. Is it Sir Agatsuma once again? There had been a period when he’d relentlessly tried to pursue her, but that time is long over — or at least, that’s what Hayami had thought.

She’s still fretting over this when the two of them reach the rose gardens. It’s a beautiful day to be out, the warmth of the late morning sun punctuated ever so often by a gentle breeze and jewel butterflies fluttering through the air. 

One thing that stands out in the middle of her familiar rose gardens, however, is a small white tea table and a matching chair situated under the shade of a large oak tree. An assortment of baked treats sit atop the table — macarons, jam-filled pastries and little cupcakes — alongside a porcelain tea set, already steeping tea if the subtle jasmine scent in the air is anything to go by.

And there is no one there but the two of them.

Before Hayami can ask Sir Tanjirou what this is all about, her guard speaks up first. “I recalled that you mentioned not having attended a tea party before.” His voice is hesitant, as though not too sure whether she would be pleased with him for organising this. As if him going out of his way to create such a lovely experience for her could ever displease her! “So I procured some snacks suitable for an afternoon tea and had this set up—”

“It— It’s lovely, Tanjirou— words cannot express how much I love this. Thank you so much, truly.” Hayami cannot remember a time when someone other than Archduke Rengoku, her trusted ladies-in-waiting, or her cousin had done something like this for her. And the two of them have only known each other for less than a month. “If there’s anything that you’d like as a reward, anything at all—” But Sir Tanjirou shakes his head immediately.

“There would be no greater reward than for you to enjoy the snacks and tea that I have prepared,” he says, pulling out the chair and indicating for her to sit. “Your Highness.”

Hayami takes a seat, staring wide eyed at the spread of delicacies spread out over the table. All of them look delicious, absolutely appetising — and for some reason, oddly familiar. Picking up a blueberry jam pastry, she carefully places it in her mouth.

Both berry tartness and sugary sweetness burst across her tongue. The flaky pastry is buttery and light, just the way she likes it — and just the way she remembers it, from the bakery that her maids had always purchased her snacks from. Although she had never visited it in person, the pastries made there always somehow managed to convey the warmth of home, something Hayami could never quite find anywhere else. The establishment had closed down one year ago, much to Hayami’s dismay, about the same time that…

… about the same time that Hayami and Kyoujurou had their conversation about adoption.

“Oh,” Hayami says suddenly, realising too many things at once. “Oh.”

Sir Tanjirou glances up from where he’s carefully pouring her a cup of tea. “Your Highness?”

“No, the pastries are just really, really good.” She nods, taking another bite. “Where did you get these, Sir Tanjirou?”

He looks a little awkward at that question, shifting on his feet. “Well, Your Highness, I hope that you don’t tell anyone but… I have a secret hobby of baking. I apologise if they might not compare to the standards of the royal baker or confectioner.”

“So you made all these treats by yourself?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Hayami laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. Kyoujurou had told her that he’d adopted peasant children into his family, but the topic of what they had been doing before that adoption had never come up in conversation. She feels as though she has found her runaway baker at last. This sweet man with steady hands and a warm heart that took care of her so gently — perhaps, it wouldn’t be too bad to be married to someone like him?

“I’ll keep your secret on one condition,” she hums, pretending to consider it. “If you allow me to taste your sweets whenever you happen to make them.”

Sir Tanjirou looks at her, surprised, before he smiles slightly. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”

One week later, Tanjirou accompanies Hayami to a fitting done by the Royal Tailor, who flits around waving all sorts of fabrics, ribbons and sashes everywhere while commanding a small army of assistants. From the sidelines, Tanjirou thinks all of them resemble ants scurrying over a hot surface — chaotic yet organised, in an artistic sort of way.

The Crown Princess stands in the middle of this whirlwind, perfectly still and poised as a life sized mannequin even when the tailors poke and prod her. There is a ball coming up in a few days to celebrate the Empire’s recent victories against the Demon Moon Kingdom, and as the Crown Princess, his master must of course attend.

Her twin brother, on the other hand, had sent word that he would be too busy training — and so had deigned not to attend. Now, Tanjirou has yet to meet the man that he would fighting side by side on the front lines with, and neither does he like to form impressions of people before he’s met them personally, but at the moment, he has quite some choice words that he’d like to convey to Crown Prince Sumiyuri Hayato, one day.

“Oh, I cannot tell whether the lilac silk or burgundy satin will look better on you, Your Highness,” the tailor frets, shaking her head. The spectacles that she had been wearing earlier now sit on top of her head, lopsided. She looks extremely frazzled. “Deeper colours have been in the trend lately, but lilac suits your skin so well…”

“I’ll try on both,” the Crown Princess says. Almost immediately she is whisked away behind the changing curtains, and Tanjirou awkwardly averts his gaze as he’s left alone in the fitting room. Even when he had accompanied Nezuko to get dresses made, he doesn’t remember them being this exhausting.

“Sir Tanjirou?”

Tanjirou is roused from his own musings when he hears the Crown Princess call for him. When he lifts his head, he sees her step out from behind the changing curtain, adjusting the satin sash cinching in her waist. The pale lilac silk has a light, silvery sheen much like her striking hair, and under the light of the chandelier she very nearly glows with a gentle sheen. She gives him a smile, one that threatens to steal the air from his very lungs. “How does this look on me?”

“It’s—” You are— “beautiful—” breathtaking— “Your Highness,” he manages to make out without tripping over his own words. As lacking as his words are, his master seems pleased by his answer.

“Let’s go with lilac,” the Crown Princess decides quickly, and then there are a flurry of other options such as sashes, adornments and accessories. By the time her Highness has picked out the right hairpins, earrings and gloves, the sun outside the window is already starting to set. 

He brings her a glazed donut when she finally slumps onto the velvet couch, completely drained. Tanjirou barely has the chance to say “You must be hungry—” before she’s already reaching out for it. 

He stifles a laugh and hands it over obediently. “I’ll get you a cup of tea as well, Your Highness.”

“No, no,” the princess shakes her head as she chews on her donut, looking blissed out at the taste. “You need to go for your fitting now.”

Tanjirou looks confused. “Your Highness, I’m not particularly in the habit of wearing ball gowns—” She laughs at that.

“Not ball gowns, silly. A suit. A tailored one, specifically.” She tilts her head to the side to look at him, long platinum hair slipping over her shoulder. “Did you forget that you would be attending this ball by my side? You are my personal guard now, after all.”

He had forgotten completely about that, unfortunately. “Of course not. But surely I wouldn’t need a new suit as a guard? All the attention should be on you, Your Highness.”

Princess Hayami sighs, leaning against the velvet seat. “You could be the most handsome man in the entire Empire and still far too much attention would be on me,” she laments with a shake of the head. “Besides, you must have a tailored suit, at the very least to look presentable for the opening dance.”

“Opening dance?” Tanjirou feels awfully silly with all his questions. “Will I be participating in the opening dance?”

The Crown Princess looks at him with a frown. “Does Sir Tanjirou not like the idea of sharing a dance with me?” So he was supposed to dance with the Crown Princess at the celebratory ball? Older Brother Kyoujurou hadn’t mentioned this to him at all!

“Of course not, Your Highness,” he says quickly, trying to remedy this. “I would love to dance with you, it would be a great honour.”

The Crown Princess’ frown vanishes in an instant, replaced by a playful smile that throws Tanjirou completely off guard. “Is that so? Then perhaps you should ask me for a dance, Sir Tanjirou.”

Wait, so he wasn’t meant to dance with the Crown Princess? He looks at her, finding himself at a loss, and watches her stifle a giggle behind her hand. “You are having fun at my expense, Your Highness.” 

“Apologies,” she says, but she can’t quite keep the amused tone out of her voice. “Still, I was being serious earlier. Do you wish to dance with me? I have no desire to force you to do something you do not want to.”

“That’s not it at all,” Tanjirou insists. “I would be honoured to dance with you.” He takes a deep breath, before bowing his head to her. “Would you give me the honour of being able to dance with you at the celebratory ball, Your Highness?”

She looks very pleased at that. “Of course I would. You can’t back out now, Sir Tanjirou.”

The rest of the fitting goes without a hitch, with the Crown Princess making him model what had seemed to be the entire menswear collection the tailor had on hand. She does personally pick out a sleek linen olive green suit for him and matching cufflinks after all that, and from the happy smile on her face, she seems to have enjoyed herself thoroughly.

The Royal Tailor bows to the Crown Princess on her way out. “Year after year, you grow lovelier and lovelier, Your Highness,” she says approvingly. “I’m sure that you will be the fairest in the Empire soon — you resemble the younger Empress so much already, you’ll surely look more like her when you grow older.”

The change in Princess Hayami’s expression is almost inscrutable, but Tanjirou catches the way her smile turns ever so slightly brittle, like pottery on the verge of shattering. “Thank you for such a lovely compliment, Royal Tailor,” she says, “ but I’m afraid I will never surpass my mother in terms of beauty. She’s far too beautiful.”

Tanjirou catches her staring into one of the floor length mirrors when he returns from escorting the Royal Tailor out, prodding lightly at her face and tugging at her hair. She’s used a spare clip from the fitting room to pin her hair up, so that the silvery platinum strands frame her face the same way Her Majesty the Empress’ does — and from the expression on her face, she doesn’t seem to like the results.

“Your Highness?” Tanjirou calls gently, careful not to agitate her. “We can leave now for dinner, if you’d like—”

“Sir Tanjirou,” the princess interrupts, sounding uncharacteristically serious, still staring at her own reflection in the mirror, “do you think that I look like my mother?”

His mouth goes a little dry at that. As someone who’s had the privilege of remaining by the Crown Princess’ side for the past month, it’s easy to see that there’s no love lost between mother and daughter. Besides, from the little bits and pieces he’s picked up from the interactions between Older Brother Kyoujurou and the Crown Princess, it’s clear that neither of them think very highly of the Empress.

Still, Tanjirou does not want to lie to Her Highness — she would be able to tell, either way.

“Your hair and features strongly resembles Her Majesty the Empress,” Tanjirou says slowly — and catches sight of the Crown Princess’ brows pinching together in a frown. She looks… troubled. “Still, I think that the two of you are very different in many ways, if people know where to look.”

The princess turns to look at him. “Different? In what ways?”

Tanjirou licks his lips nervously. “Well, first of all, Your Highness’ eyes are a lot softer than Her Majesty the Empress’. Her brows are often arched and sharp and her expression… stern, while the Crown Princess has a gentle but firm gaze.”

The Crown Princess nods slowly at that, considering his words carefully. “Go on.”

“Secondly, Her Majesty the Empress has thinner lips that tend to be pulled into a line. Your Highness has softer and fuller lips that curve upwards slightly, even when you are trying not to smile.”

Her lips pull into that very smile that he was just describing, a cupid’s bow loosening an arrow that goes straight to. “You’ve been spending a great deal of time paying attention to my lips, haven’t you, Sir Tanjirou?”

“I—” He begins to protest, then promptly gives up trying to explain himself. “Yes, I have, Your Highness. As your guard, it is my responsibility to notice everything about you.”

Her mouth curls into a proper smile now. “And you always do your job to the utmost standard,” she hums lightly. Turning back to glance in the mirror, she sighs before pulling the clip from her hair, allowing the long platinum strands to tumble down her back in a long, silvery waterfall. “Truly, Sir Tanjirou… I like to think that in my heart, I am a damsel in distress in need of a Prince Charming to come save me, but when I look in the mirror, all I can see is an evil queen who is unworthy of true love and genuine kindness. I would… I do not like to be compared to my mother. Ever. In any way at all.”

Tanjirou remains quiet for a while. “I cannot… provide you with a Prince Charming on a white steed, like the fairytales describe,” he says honestly, when he speaks at last. “But I think that Your Highness will be able to change the way people view her, as well as the way she views herself, with her own efforts and merits. And this lowly guard will be by your side all the way, should you desire it.”

The Crown Princess takes a moment to ruminate over his words. And then suddenly she smiles, dazzling, as bright as the sunrise, and for the first time, Tanjirou feels his heart twist in his chest — not a simple skip, nor just a quickening of its beat — but a physical ache that he doesn’t quite recognise nor know how to handle.

All he does know, however, is that he has made a vow — and that he would gladly lay down his life for the woman before him.

They don’t make it to the ball.

About one week before the celebratory ball is to happen, the Crown Princess gets poisoned — in her own palace, in her own drawing room. During teatime, the head maid Rin Sunada delivers a tray of snacks and tea, which Tanjirou would watch Her Highness eat as the two of them talk of the garden’s flowers and the latest gossip Tanjirou has picked up from the palace grounds. It’s a simple, ordinary routine that Tanjirou has long gotten used to, enjoying her company and the snacks she occasionally manages to convince him to try — which might explain why he’s stunned into stillness when he catches sight of crimson dotting the corner of the Crown Princess’ mouth.

“Your Highness!” He says urgently, and when she does not respond immediately, a cold tendril of fear wraps itself around his heart and yanks hard, constricting the air in his lungs. Instead, she presses a delicate hand to her chest — the hand that he’d just kissed this morning in greeting — and coughs, a choking, breathless, wheezing sound.

And blood spills from her mouth.

“Your Highness!”

Only his trained reflexes allow him to catch the Crown Princess falling from her seat before she can hit the floor. She lies in his arms like a broken doll, unresponsive, eyes half lidded and lips stained red. “Your Highness, please respond! Your Highness! Hayami!”

Still she does not respond, and Tanjirou shouts himself hoarse for a physician. The servants tell him that it will take some time for the physicians to arrive, so he snaps for them to move aside, puts the Crown Princess on his back, and promptly runs all the way to the medical wing.

The entire situation feels like a dream of some sort, his mind covered by a thick fog and his memories of the incident blurry, but when he finally connects with reality once more he’s standing next to Her Highness’ bed with an aching throat and his hands balled into tight fists. There’s a heavy, reassuring warmth on his shoulder, and when he glances up, Older Brother Kyoujurou is standing next to him, eyes hard as he looks down at the bed the Crown Princess is resting in.

“Who did it?” Tanjirou barely recognises his voice with how sharp and flat it is. The room is empty aside from the two of them. Nezuko had been in here earlier with the Princess’ other ladies in waiting, but had to be escorted out with how badly she was crying from the fright. “You must have some clue as to who the culprit is.”

“I do,” Older Brother Kyoujurou says, an answer so straightforward that Tanjirou is taken by surprise. “I know exactly who did it, and so does the Crown Princess.”

Tanjirou frowns at that. “Then why are we not taking action immediately, Older Brother? With an enemy who could slip poison into the palace and past all of the Crown Princess’ maids… surely she will continue to be in danger if we don’t eliminate such a large threat.”

The Archduke sighs, rubbing his temples before shaking his head. “You will not bring this matter up outside of this room, Tanjirou,” he says sternly. When Tanjirou begins to protest, he cuts in sharply. “I’m sure that you already know that this isn’t an uncommon occurrence for Her Highness.”

“Of course,” Tanjirou hesitates, turning back to the bed that the princess is lying in. Her eyes are closed, her breathing slow, and her skin so pale it almost appears translucent — for a moment, she truly seemed more akin to a porcelain doll than a live human. “Both she and you explained to me that she had many enemies… but surely eliminating one is still beneficial towards her safety?”

His adopted brother glances over his shoulder, and Tanjirou immediately feels the slightest burst of heat erupting from the Archduke’s form — so subtle it can barely be detected, even for someone who is intimately familiar with the man’s magical signature. The silencing spell spreads over the walls of the room, sealing off all conversation inside the room.

“Listen here, Tanjirou,” the Archduke says at last, turning to face Tanjirou so that he can look into his eyes. Kyoujurou’s flaming amber eyes are serious as grave when their gazes meet. “The culprit of the Crown Princess’ poisoning attempt, and most, if not all, the assassination attempts on her life, were orchestrated by the Empress in some sort of way.”

Kyoujurou says the word Empress as though it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but Tanjirou is stunned beyond belief at such a reveal. The matriarch of the Empire, attempting to poison her own daughter? Even if he knows that the two don’t particularly share a good relationship, no mother should ever do such a thing to their own child!

“The Empress has long used such poisoning attempts as an excuse to get rid of dissenting members of the Imperial Council,” the Archduke continues. “And the princess has been training to resist poison in this manner ever since she was a child. This is not something out of the ordinary, Tanjirou.”

Tanjirou does not know what to say. He recalls his own mother, how unwavering she had been in raising and feeding her children, waking up even before the crack of dawn every morning to knead bread and make sure that they had enough to eat. If not for her, Tanjirou is sure that neither he nor Nezuko would be even half of the people they were. To hear that the Empress of Sumihana would stoop so low, he almost can’t believe his own ears.

For a moment, he almost wants to ask what the Emperor’s stance — but quickly realises that it is simply not possible for the highest person in the country to be completely unaware of the happenings in his own palace. He knows, but simply cannot —  or chooses not to — interfere with his wife’s actions. And that too, in Tanjirou’s eyes, is just as unpardonable.

“I know this is asking the sun and the moon of you,” Kyoujurou says at last. “But this is the reason I had you and Nezuko brought into the palace, so that you could stand by the Crown Princess’ side and support her. I am not… asking you to protect her from every storm and gale that might come her way, but even then… I’d like to know that there’s someone who will stand by her side no matter the enemy she faces.”

“Even if that enemy is the ruling family of this empire,” Tanjirou finishes for him, quietly.

The two of them stand over the Crown Princess’ sickbed in silence for a while, before Kyoujurou steps away. “I should get going first to explain things to the rest of the Archdukes and the Imperial Council,” he says, squeezing Tanjirou’s shoulder firmly. “I’ll leave Her Highness in your hands.” With that, he steps out of the room, taking his warmth with him as he goes —  leaving Tanjirou all alone with the sleeping princess.

After the door swings shut with a soft click, Tanjirou stands next to the princess, quiet, observing, forlorn. Just yesterday, she’d been laughing with him when he’d described a young nobleman’s affections and efforts to pursue his younger sister, regaling him with tales of entertaining incidents that had occurred in the palace before his arrival.

And now…

“Wake up quickly, Your Highness,” Tanjirou murmurs quietly, his voice vanishing like smoke in the silence of the Crown Princess’ chambers. “I know that I am no Crown Prince, and that no kiss of mine can wake you from this slumber, but still…”

She continues to sleep. The royal physicians had declared that she was in no real danger — the poison, while deadly, was something that the Crown Princess had been building resistance to ever since she was a toddler. The thought of the bright and cheerful princess, being fed poison as a child… there is a bitter taste in Tanjirou’s mouth.

Standing over her bed, looking at her sleeping face, Tanjirou speaks aloud a pledge — a vow.

“I, Kamado Tanjirou, from this day on, pledge to dedicate my sword, my life, and my heart to Her Highness the Crown Princess Sumiyuri Hayami.” Tucked in her blankets and eyes still closed, the princess doesn’t even stir. “Typically, these sorts of vows are sealed with a kiss to the hand, but…” he glances down at her hand, which is covered in gauze — a broken piece of pottery had sliced open the skin there. “Apologies for my insolence, Your Highness. You can chide me all you’d like after you wake up.”

Gently, he presses his lips to the Crown Princess’ brow.

#demon slayer #demon slayer fanfiction #demom slayer kamado tanjirou #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjiro x reader

[wisteriashouse]

Lantern rite epilogue be like

#i cannot explain how much i loved this scene #and the number of fanarts it has spawned

[wisteriashouse]

(pirate king anon) KZKABDKA no dont call yourself an idiot 😭😭😭 this is the post!! https://at.tumblr.com/uwunnie/where-did-chasingatinydream-go/vr6k98ahojzm

oh gods ajfksj i see now for a moment i thought i was leaving a trail of socials everywhere and i was honestly about to die of embarrassment

#not that im ashamed of pk but its been what?? two years??? #i cringe when i look back at my own grammar and vocab OUCH #asks

[wisteriashouse]

hello! i would like to thank you for the ayato fics i really enjoyed everything about it, especially the way you characterized ayato.. wow, just pure awe. i’m glad i found your blog! i hope you have a great day like how you made mine ♡

i'm glad you liked my two (pathetic number) ayato fics <333 i have a soft spot for sus hydro men *cough cough* tortilla *cough cough* water vergil

#asks #i hope you have a lovely day anon!!

[wisteriashouse]

(pirate king anon) someone posted on here asking where chasingatinydream went and someone replied tagging chaseatinydream this account and your monstax account lol

oh my god was it me did i give me away without me knowing it... i am so sorry i am an absolute idiot anon

#anon.asks

[wisteriashouse]

qiqi carry !!!

#this is so damn cute i watched the trailer and almost sobbed when i saw qiqi #isnt she just!!! the cutest!! little thing to exist!!!

[wisteriashouse]

Hello! Are you the person who wrote Pirate King? I'm looking for a specific scene but can't seem to find it 😓😓

wait??? HOW????

#screams wait how how how #how #anon that was two years ago and... a completely separate blog how

[wisteriashouse]

The man wonders if anyone knows about the existence of a private property law..

#diluc sipping his grape juice: ah its that time of the year again

[wisteriashouse]

rule of three.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: kimetsu academy!au; romance, fluff, love triangle

word count: 12533

a/n: thank you @hinokami-s​ for trusting me with your commission! this one took pretty long (and i fell in love with the wrong character) but i hope you like it!!

She’s doing it again.

That nervous little quirk of hers: when she pulls a few strands of her hair between her fingers, twirling the platinum locks around them before letting go and repeating the sequence of actions all over again. Sometimes, Tanjirou is unsure whether Hayami is even conscious of this habit at all, or whether she knows how obvious it makes her. It’s something she does every time she’s nervous or worried, and considering the fact that she’s been playing with her hair for most part of the school day, there must be something weighing on her mind.

Unsurprisingly, Tanjirou is concerned. Today has been a busy day for all of them in school, so he hasn’t found the right moment to ask yet, but he’ll definitely do that before her chauffeur arrives to pick her up—

“You pig headed boar, stop slobbering over my face and get off me!” Zenitsu’s piercing shrieks of alarm drag Tanjirou out of his thoughts and he looks up to see Inosuke rugby tackling Zenitsu to the ground, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs and flying buttons. Tanjirou simply shakes his head with a sigh: he’s learned from repeated experiences that he’s absolutely useless at pulling the two of them apart. Only Hayami has any hope of getting them to stop with their clownery. “Hayami, get this crazy guy off me!”

Tanjirou half-expects Hayami to laugh and distract Inosuke with a request for a smooth pebble or something else, but to his surprise, Hayami doesn’t even seem to have noticed the commotion taking place right next to her. Instead, she’s frowning at the school gates with a slight furrow to her brow, deep in thought.

“Hayami—”

“Don’t just stand there!” Zenistu protests in horror, but before he can say anything more Inosuke smothers him with a hand over his entire face. With a scream of disgust, Zenitsu promptly wriggles free from Inosuke and takes off down the road at the speed of light, with Inosuke snapping like a mad dog at his heels.

When the two of them are finally out of earshot, Tanjirou turns around to rest one hand on Hayami’s shoulder. “Hayami, are you alright?”

The hand on the shoulder was meant to be a calming gesture, but Hayami jumps so high in surprise that Tanjirou almost wonders for a moment if she’s levitating. “Yeah, yeah, of course I’m alright! Totally great! Just dandy, you know.” Hayami laughs nervously, winding her hair around her finger again — Tanjirou frowns openly at that — and tugging at the ends. Her cheeks are flushed. “Whatever made you ask that, haha!”

It takes one to recognise one, and Tanjirou recognises Hayami as a terrible, awful liar.

Still, it wouldn’t be very nice to just say that, so Tanjirou makes an attempt with a different approach. “You’ve been out of it all day.” He says, making sure to keep his voice light. Hayami isn’t one to just share her problems or struggles due to her upbringing (and nasty parents), so getting her to open up usually requires some coaxing and prodding here and there. “Is there something that you’re stressed about? I’d like to know.”

“I’m really fine, Tanjirou,” Hayami answers, trying for a placating smile. Unfortunately for her, it’s not enough to fool Tanjirou’s observant eyes, but she quickly changes the topic. “Our plans for the day after tomorrow, they’re confirmed, aren’t they?”

Tanjirou blinks, confused by the sudden turn this conversation is taking. “The trip to the aquarium, right? Of course it’s confirmed, we booked the tickets and everything last week. Did something crop up?”

“No, no,” Hayami looks relieved, actually. “I just needed to confirm my schedule and a few things on the side, and it’s been a really hectic week for me and I was just, uhm, looking forward to spending some time with— oh, Ginjiro! Sorry, Tanjirou, I’ll be right back, I promise!”

Tanjirou lets out a slow sigh as he watches Hayami jog over to where a familiar boy is exiting from the school gates, clearly set on discussing something with him. As much as he doesn’t get along with Ginjiro personally, he’s aware that Hayami has been close friends with him since the two were young. Still, inner Tanjirou appeals, he doesn’t have to like it when Ginjiro laughs and slips an arm around Hayami’s waist a little too easily.

He swears that Ginjiro gives him a little smirk.

Hayami is saying something to Ginjiro, gesturing with her hands (yet another habit when she’s losing her patience). Although Tanjirou is too far to hear anything, he does manage to catch a glance of a mischievous grin appearing on Ginjiro’s face. The dark harried boy leans down to whisper something into Hayami’s ear, and perhaps Tanjirou is only just a little too pleased when Hayami starts smacking his hands away, positively chewing his ear off.

Still, Hayami does look a little more invigorated after that talk with Ginjiro, which is undeniably a good thing. Even if it did come out of unfortunate circumstances. Perhaps what Hayami was worried about earlier in the day really wasn’t such a major issue, and all she needed to do was to speak to Ginjiro. It might have been about an assignment or something modelling related, and well, as long as Hayami is feeling better, Tanjirou can’t really complain.

Ginjiro chuckles at something Hayami says, wrapping another arm around her shoulder this time, and Tanjirou is about to march over to insert himself between the two when there’s the honk of a car. When he turns around, there’s a familiar black sedan pulled up at the school gates, with an even more familiar face behind the wheel.

Tanjirou gives Katsuo-san a bow and a wave.

“Oh shucks, I gotta go.” Hayami hurries over to the car, the strap of her bag slipping off her shoulder as she waves to the both of them. “See you then, Ginjiro, Tanjirou!”

The car has barely turned into the traffic when Ginjiro turns to give Tanjirou a smirk that can only be described as cocky. “Hope you enjoy the surprise,” Ginjiro hums lightly as he brushes past Tanjirou. Tanjirou frowns, utterly at a loss as to what he could be talking about.

“Surprise? What do you mean?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Ginjiro throws a cocky smirk over his shoulder, which does nothing to soothe the unease stirring in his stomach. “See you around, Tanjirou-kun.”

>>>

Hope you enjoy the surprise.

Ginjiro’s words still pop into Tanjirou’s head at random even after he’s reached home, so Tanjirou thinks that it’s completely understandable that he panics a little when his phone starts ringing all of a sudden after dinner. Surprise, surprise.

“I swear, if it’s Ginjiro…” Tanjirou mutters under his breath as he climbs the stairs to his rooms, his ringtone still filling the small house with its merry tune.

As far as he knows, Ginjiro doesn’t have his number. Hayami wouldn’t give him his number without telling him, right? Right. Also, why on earth would Ginjiro even need his number? Ginjiro hates his entire existence. Besides, they have nothing to do with each other. The words that he said earlier in the day had to be some sort of new way Ginjiro had come up with to mess with him.

“Hope you enjoy the surprise,” Tanjirou continues to mutter, reaching for his phone. “You’ll see soon enough. Why did he have to go and say that, huh? He really— oh, thank god.”

It’s Hayami’s contact flashing across his phone screen, and Tanjirou almost deflates with relief at the sight of it. Picking it up, he presses his phone to his ear and is immediately taken by surprise by the commotion in the background. “Hayami? Is something up?”

“No, no.” Hayami’s voice is just a tad bit breathless on the other side of the line, and Tanjirou can hear the multiple people rushing back and forth, their footsteps scattering their words into incomprehensible white noise. She sounds oddly nervous about something, and Tanjirou can already imagine her twirling her hair around her finger just like she always does. “Uhh, I know it’s strange to drop this on you so suddenly, but I kind of have a favour to ask of you.”

It is rather abrupt, but Tanjirou has never turned a request of Hayami’s down before, and he isn’t about to start now. “No need to panic,” he reassures her gently. “Whatever it is, you can just tell me.”

“Right. Right.” She hesitates for a moment. “I know this sounds kind of weird, but I promise, I’ll explain everything properly to you when we meet up—”

“Hayami, breathe.”

“Right, I’m getting carried away again. Uhm,” she sucks in a breath through her teeth before she exhales. “Is it possible if you, uhh, don’t tune into social media and television at all this evening?”

It’s hard not to be taken aback by such a strange request, especially with Ginjiro’s words from earlier still making the odd appearance in his mind. “The whole evening, you say?”

“The whole evening, yes.” Hayami sounds even more nervous now. “I can explain, but it would take too much time right now and I’m really in a rush to— oh, Toshiko-san, can’t you give me just a few more minutes?”

Tanjirou has to wrack his mind a little before he recalls where he’s heard that name before — Hayami’s personal maid, with the kindest blue eyes that remind him of his own grandmother. “I know that you’ve been rushing around a lot tonight, dearest, but I’m afraid that there’s still some adjustments that have to be made to your dress, and your mother is getting more antsy with each minute that passes. I can try to make an excuse of some sort, but…”

“No, no! There’s no need for that, tell her I’ll be out right away.” There’s some shuffling in the background and the muffled sound of a door being shut, before Hayami returns to the call. “I’m so sorry for this request, Tanjirou, I promise that it’s nothing bad and I’ll explain everything when we meet up tomorrow—”

At this point, Tanjirou is almost dying to know just why he can’t tune in to the television, but decides to let it go for now. “It’s alright, Hayami,” he says steadily, trying to calm her down. “I understand, and you’ll explain everything to me tomorrow. Is that right?”

Hayami cuts herself off mid-ramble, seemingly a little shocked by how easily Tanjirou is agreeing. “Y-yes, yes, that’s right. I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”

“Mm.” As much as Tanjirou wants to know, he reminds himself that Hayami would never make a request like this without a good reason. He can wait until tomorrow to find out what it is. “Then, have a good night, Hayami. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Hayami is oddly quiet for a while, and Tanjirou grows concerned. “Hayami? Is there something wrong?”

“Hayami, dear, we really do need to be going now!” Toshiko-san’s voice is a little loud with urgency, and judging from the clatter, Hayami had dropped her phone out of surprise.

“Coming, Toshiko-san!” Hayami responds frantically, before she picks up her phone once again. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow too, Tanjirou. See you!”

With that, the line hangs up.

For a moment, Tanjirou looks at the blank screen on his phone, before tossing it onto the mattress and burying his face under a pillow. Hope you enjoy the surprise, Tanjirou-kun.

“Looks like it’s going to be a long night,” he mutters to himself.

>>>

“Who were you on the phone with just now, dear?” Toshiko teases as she hurriedly adjusts the sash at her waist, adding a few pins to keep it cinched in place. Even her personal maid is dressed up for today’s banquet, her dark hair pinned up in a tight, elegant bun and little Swarovski crystals decorating her neck. If anyone else saw her, they’d probably think that she was a businesswoman just like any other. “Is it that cute Sato boy again? I always thought the two of you looked good together in the magazines.”

“Toshiko-san!” Hayami yelps sharply. “Ginjiro is not— ok, fine, he is cute, objectively speaking, but I don’t like him that way!” It’s bad enough that the tabloids think that there’s something going on between the two of them, but she didn’t expect Toshiko-san of all people to be reading the gossip magazines!

“Why not?” Her maid seems genuinely surprised by this. “He seems like a nice boy, and he always brings nice gifts whenever he comes over to visit. Besides, you enjoy visiting his house a lot, don’t you? The number of times Katsuo-san has had to pick you up in the morning from there…”

Hayami is sure her blush would be visible past the thick layer of foundation on her face. “Toshiko-san, really! I have no romantic feelings towards Ginjiro whatsoever, and besides…” Tanjirou’s warm smile comes to mind immediately, banishing all thoughts of Ginjiro with ease. “Well, he’s just not my type. Not in a thousand years.”

“That’s what all the girls your age say, dear,” Toshiko-san titters, before she holds out a hand to help Hayami down the stairs. With a groan of embarrassment, Hayami gives up on trying to convince Toshiko-san otherwise. “Come now, let’s get you to the car. Katsuo-san must be waiting.”

True to Toshiko’s words, Katsuo-san is indeed waiting for the two of them at the limousine, shaking his head when he sees Toshiko still fretting over the final details of her dress. “Toshiko, enough worrying,” he grunts, holding the door open as Hayami slips inside, “Or even more of your hair will turn grey, and then you’ll look like even more of an old hag than you do now.”

“I do not look like an old hag!” Toshiko-san’s hands fly to her face, horrified. “Hayami, dear, my wrinkles haven’t started to set in, have they?”

Hayami rushes to reassure her. “You don’t look a day over thirty, Toshiko-san. You look like you could be the model of an anti-aging cream, really! Do you want me to link you up with some cosmetics brands?”

Katsuo covers a snort with one gloved hand and gracefully escorts Toshiko into the limousine with the other. “Right. She could be the ‘before’ in those before and after commercials that I keep seeing on television nowadays.”

Toshiko reaches for her heel, and Hayami, fearing for her butler’s skull, reaches over to hold Toshiko’s hands tightly in hers. “Don’t listen to Katsuo-san, he’s just being rude. Besides, I think you look really, really pretty in your dress today! And your hair looks amazing in that updo, I’d love to try that elegant style sometime! Which salon did you go to get it done?”

“Oh, I did it myself, dear.” Toshiko chirps at Hayami’s sweet words, her earlier vengeance forgotten. “Do you really like it that much? I’ll help you do your hair the next time, if you want.” She sniffs at an unrepentant Katsuo, who’s just shaking his head. “And this impertinent cretin really has no manners at all! Even that young Sato boy is so much more of a gentleman.”

“That Ginjiro kid?” Katsuo looks distinctly unimpressed as he gets into the driver’s seat. “That rascal keeps putting his hands all over the Miss. I don’t like him one bit. The other boy… the one from the bakery near your school neighbourhood? Now that’s a gentleman if I’ve ever seen one. I like that one a lot better.”

Toshiko’s eyes go wide at Katsuo’s words, and her grip on Hayami’s hands turn immovable as stone. “There’s another boy? Hayami, you didn’t tell me about him! Quick, I want to know everything!”

Hayami cries internally. The whole reason she had never mentioned Tanjirou to Toshiko is because she knew full well what she would be like. The first time she’d stayed over at Ginjiro’s house, Toshiko had grilled her for hours about the boy. Katsuo, too, definitely knew she would do this!

She glares at the rearview mirror of the corner of her eye, and mouths start driving already. There’s a quiet chuckle from the front seat, followed by the rev of the engine. Defeated, Hayami settles back into the seat, resigned to answering the ever growing list of questions from Toshiko.

By the time the car pulls up at the banquet venue, Hayami is sure that Toshiko knows everything there is to know about Tanjirou, from his height to the number of siblings he has down to his blood type. She’s almost glad to escape the limousine when she sees her mother already waiting at the start of the red carpet with her father on her arm, professional cameras clicking away.

Hayami’s mood immediately sours at the sight.

“Don’t forget to smile, dearest,” Toshiko-san reminds her as the limousine pulls to a stop. Both Toshiko and Katsuo are more than aware of her distaste for the rest of the Sumiyuri family. “I know that you don’t like these kinds of events, but since you’re here and all dolled up already, you shouldn’t let that pretty face go to waste, hmm?”

“Just think of that bread boy and you’ll be fine.” Hayami’s cheeks burn and she reaches out to lightheartedly swat at her chauffeur’s shoulder.

“I’m telling you, he’s just a friend,” she hisses, trying her best not to flush now. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She can already hear the paparazzi gathering outside her door, pushing and jostling the security in a competition to get the best and most invasive photo of the sole Sumiyuri heir. In times like these, her mother’s words echo in her mind like an old memory carved into her bones. Back straight, chin lifted, eyes forward. You are a Sumiyuri, and you are better than every single one of those commoners, so act like it. That is something that will not change, no matter what you do.

Hayami hates it. Commoners, her mother calls them, as if they’re lower than her simply by status of birth. Still, this is a tried and tested method of keeping up the persona that is expected of her in the media’s eyes — as much as she loathes it, it works.

“She’s doing the thing again, isn’t she?” Katsuo-san whispers a tad too loudly, and it is only by virtue of the fact that there are cameras almost pressed to the window that Toshiko does not smack him on the spot. Internally, Hayami buries the quiet laugh that is on the verge of spilling out, before she manages to compose herself.

“Katsuo-san, get the door for me.”

“Of course, Miss.” Smooth as velvet, Katsuo slips out of the car before opening the rear door for Hayami. She takes a moment to leisurely gather the many sheer layers of her skirt, before stepping out of the car and onto the red carpet.

“Hayami, you’re here,” Sumiyuri Kuraihi comments as Hayami joins them in front of the cameras, her soft, demure voice almost concealing the ice beneath it. She’s as dazzling as a cut diamond, silver platinum hair falling in a pin straight curtain down her back and liquid lipstick flicked over the moue of her small mouth. Hayami wonders if she’ll ever look like that when she grows older, and immediately hates the idea of it. “Smile for the camera on the left there, that’s one of the chief journalists of This Patch. And your arms look awfully thick in this sleeveless dress, really. Are you sure you’re following your diet properly?”

“Dear, the paparazzi are watching,” Sumiyuri Daikoku reminds his wife, a neutral, pleasant expression on his face. Kuraihi’s face doesn’t change one bit, but she does pull Hayami just a tad closer for her hand to rest on her shoulder, and all three smile at the cameras, a picture perfect family on cue.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Kuraihi concedes, releasing her daughter. Hayami exhales discreetly in relief. “Daikoku, Hayami, we’re going… no, no. Let’s wait for him.”

Hayami blinks, confused. “Wait for who?” She echoes, but her question is answered as soon as it is asked. The next car that pulls up at the red carpet is a very familiar white Mercedes, and Hayami stares wordlessly when Sato Ginjiro exits the car, looking very dapper in a three piece tailored suit and his hair tousled in that faux casual style.

“What are you doing here?” She’d just confirmed his schedule with him this afternoon after school, there was no way that the event planners had changed it in the short time between then and now! Ginjiro smiles as he makes his way to her, bowing and waving as if it’s second nature to him. “It’s a pleasure to run into you, Mrs Sumiyuri, Mr Sumiyuri,” he greets politely with a bow, before turning to Hayami. “And you, my dearest Hayami,” he pauses for a moment, eyes widening slightly as he takes her in, and when he speaks again, his voice is slightly breathless, “you look absolutely delightful tonight, truly. You’re taking my breath away.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” she mutters, none too happy with this situation. His acting classes have paid off, truly, because Hayami almost believes that he wholeheartedly means what he’s saying for a moment. Hayami, on the other hand, takes no acting classes and has to fight to keep the grimace off her face.

“Hayami, don’t wear such an unpleasant expression on your face,” her mother chides without really looking at her, and Hayami bites her lip, forcing her displeasure down. “It’s a pleasure to see you here tonight as well, Sato-kun. We were just about to head in, and now that I see that you’ve arrived alone, perhaps you could do us the favour of escorting our dear Hayami inside?”

Dear gods and lords above, this is exactly what Hayami had been trying to avoid. “I don’t need an escort, really—”

“Hayami, don’t turn down the poor boy,” her mother titters softly, but there’s a warning creeping into eyes. They’re telling her that there’ll be hell to pay at home if she doesn’t listen right now. Swallowing, Hayami straightens her back.

“I mean, it is only polite for the man to offer first, isn’t it?” She explains weakly. Sumiyuri Kuraihi pauses this for a moment, considering, before she turns to Ginjiro. “Sato-kun, what do you think?”

Hayami barely glares at Ginjiro, but he’s already nodding brightly, flashing a charming grin. “I’d be delighted to,” he turns to Hayami, and she swears that she’s about to go blind from the flash reflecting off those perfect white teeth as he holds out his arm. “Shall we, milady?”

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Hayami very begrudgingly takes a hold of his proffered arm and is immediately assaulted by a flurry of camera shutters and flashes. She can already see the headlines on tomorrow’s tabloids: Sumiyuri’s Princess linking arms with the heir to Sato Conglomerate, secret clandestine relationship or budding romance? If they don’t somehow dig up some poorly edited photographs of the two of them in some sort of scandalous position, Hayami will be grateful enough. God, she’d already been trying not to make Tanjirou feel the huge wealth gap between the two of them, now this? This is just adding kerosene on top of the fire.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Hayami mutters out of the corner of her mouth as soon as they enter the private area of the event. Even if the paparazzi and the like aren’t allowed in here, there are still too many eyes and ears on them. At her words, Ginjiro’s pristine smile slips into something more laidback, a bit of the catlike Sato Ginjiro she sees in school visible under the carefully tailored clothes and makeup.

“Of course I am,” his voice is teasing, and Hayami can’t help rolling her eyes. “I’ve got the prettiest girl in the world on my arm and her company all to myself tonight. Why wouldn’t I be enjoying myself?”

Hayami has to bite back the urge to aim a kick at him. “I meant with the reporters outside, seriously. You knew that they would be taking pictures of us, and there’s definitely going to be a massive scandal of some sort tomorrow!”

At her words, Ginjiro looks at her wordlessly, the usual teasing expression absent from his face as his eyes sweep across her. He’s always been more on the effusive side, never restraining himself in showing how he feels, so worry begins to creep up inside her with each second he doesn’t speak. Hayami reaches out to tug at his sleeve. “Uhh, Ginjiro?”

“Is it,” he says, and Hayami is a little surprised by how solemn he sounds, “really that bad that you’re seen together with me?”

The tone of his voice makes Hayami feel like the absolute worst trash on earth, and she rushes to reassure him. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all! It’s just,” she flounders for a moment, trying to figure out just how to explain things properly to him. “It’s just that I don’t like people assuming the wrong things about us. They always blow up into all kinds of ridiculous scandals that aren’t true, and they stress me out to no end with the paparazzi asking me who I’m dating, and—”

A big, warm hand over her mouth cuts her off. “I know, I know, I was just teasing you.” When she looks up, all traces of his earlier solemnity have completely disappeared, replaced by a cheeky grin. “It’s cute seeing you all flustered like that.”

Hayami gapes at him, before she succumbs to her violent urges and actually kicks him in the shin. “You—!” Ginjiro groans and staggers a step back, but there’s amusement dancing in his eyes.

“And there’s the Sumiyuri Hayami we all know and love,” he laughs, flicking her on the forehead. Hayami makes a face, but Ginjiro doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. "Don’t look so gloomy hanging off my arm next time, yeah? Other girls would be dying to be in your position, but you look like you’re actually dying.”

“Is this the moment where I say I’m not like other girls?” Hayami mutters, but still drags Ginjiro over with her to the refreshments table. “Really, I don’t know how you can just shrug off the rumours about us dating like that. It’s like water sliding off a duck’s back. Amazing, really…”

Ginjiro simply watches Hayami silently as she stares down at the table of hors d-oeuvres, tongue poking at the inside of her cheek adorably. “The canapes look good… hmm, so do the cranberry crostinis…” So adorably innocent, so painfully oblivious.

“Take both,” Ginjiro advises. “I’ll tell your mother I tried to feed you a little too much cake, and she’ll be delighted to hear that we’re getting along so well. Though you should probably make your choice quickly, because I think the dances are going to start anytime soon.”

As soon as he says that, the sound of bowstrings fill the air, the string quartet starting the night off with a familiar and upbeat step. Ginjiro takes Hayami’s hand in his own, and before she can comment, pops a cream puff into her mouth. “Come on, let’s go. I know this song.”

Hayami swallows the puff before smiling. “A little rude to just drag me along without asking, hm? What happened to being a perfect gentleman?”

“Oh, so now you want to play this game.” Ginjiro laughs, but obliges her anyway, stepping in front of her to hold out a hand. “Milady, I would be most honoured to be your first dance at tonight’s banquet. Would you make me the happiest man here tonight?”

With a laugh she takes his hand, and the two of them sweep onto the dance floor together. It’s a tune Hayami has heard many times already, and she puts one hand on Ginjiro’s shoulder while his own rests on her waist. Hayami has danced to this song so many times already that she could probably do it in her sleep, and from the ease with which Ginjiro moves, it seems the same goes for him. For a moment, Hayami wonders how Tanjirou would fare at a high society dance like this.

He’s athletic, of course, with remarkably good coordination over his limbs and he did perform that traditional kagura dance at their school festival once, but Hayami doesn’t think that he has much appreciation for Western classical music or their dances. Still, he would look amazing in a suit, as much as he’s uncomfortable with dressing up.

“I’m sorry for earlier, you know.” Ginjiro’s sudden words take her by surprise. When she glances up to look at him, Ginjiro’s dark eyes are on her as they sway to the rhythm together, unreadable. Frowning, Hayami squeezes his shoulder lightly in an attempt to get him to lighten up.

“What for?”

“The whole deal with your parents earlier,” he says, and his voice is serious as he twirls her effortlessly. “I couldn’t find one of the cufflinks I was supposed to wear tonight, so I told my own family to go on ahead. I didn’t plan this with your parents, if that’s what you were thinking.”

Hayami purses her lips as Ginjiro continues to lead her in the dance. “No, no. As much as your flirting leaves much to be desired,” Ginjiro manages a tiny smile at that, “I know you wouldn’t do something like that. But did you really have to escort me in?”

“Like I said earlier, it would seem strange if I just entered alone while you were there,” Ginjiro explains, and Hayami knows that she’s just whining at this point. If Ginjiro hadn’t offered to escort her in, the media would have spun the story in a completely different direction instead. Something like: Sparks crackle between two heirs! Bad blood between Sumiyuri and Sato families? “If you’re really that upset about it, how about I owe you one for this?”

“Damned if you do, damned it you don’t,” Hayami mutters under her breath, annoyed. “No matter what we do, there’ll always be some sort of ridiculous rumour floating around us. Ugh.”

“Well, I do know a way to stop those rumours,” Ginjiro shrugs, and Hayami looks up at him with wide eyes. Since when did he have such powerful connections in the media?

“What way?”

A gasp escapes her when Ginjiro pulls her into a dip, and her breath catches in her breath when Ginjiro leans in just a bit too close, his warm breath ghosting over the tip of her nose. His dark eyes sparkle with mischief, and for a moment, Hayami can’t look away.

“We turn them into the truth, of course.”

Hayami gapes at him for a full minute (probably not, but that’s what it feels like to her), before she regains her senses and pulls herself upright. “Like your flirting, your humour also leaves much to be desired, really.” Her cheeks are hot.

“I’m not joking. Think about it,” Ginjiro rests both hands on her waist and gently sways with her, his gaze serious once more. Hayami can’t bear to meet his gaze. “Your parents would approve if you got into a relationship with me, and then I would be able to take you away from that family you hate so much. I wouldn’t let them lay a hand on you ever again.”

“Ginjiro,” Hayami tries to say, but Ginjiro continues.

“My parents love you. My sisters love you. They’d treat you well.” He pauses. “And I… well, I’d take care of you. I would do everything to make you happy. You know I would.”

Hayami swallows, looking down at their feet moving in tandem together. It’s harder because Hayami knows it’s true: although he lays the flirting on a bit thick sometimes, Ginjiro would dote on her and take care of her with the same devotion he shows his family. And he’s one of her best friends, she doesn’t know what she would have done without him after… that incident back in her previous school. Hayami does love and care for him in return as well…

But probably, and perhaps unfortunately, not the way that Ginjiro wishes that she would.

“You don’t have to love me,” Ginjiro adds quietly, and for a second, Hayami feels like she’s about to burst into tears. In the next second, however, it’s instantly followed by a cocky, “I’m sure that I could get you to fall in love with me eventually, though.” The impending tears are instantly replaced with a roll of the eyes.

Still, Hayami’s grateful that he’s looking out for her. “Thanks, Ginjiro,” she says warmly, and really means it. “I don’t know whether I’m being silly or a fool, but… I’d still like to try finding my own happiness with my own hands first. If that doesn’t work out, well,” she shrugs, “at least I get Masako as a sister-in-law, am I right?”

Ginjiro gasps, playfully scandalised. “Masko is the one that you’re looking forward to? Not the sexy model husband who would make you breakfast in bed and buy your flowers everyday?”

“Toshiko-san knows my palette and cooks perfectly well, and I can buy my own flowers.” The song comes to a stop at that moment, and both Ginjiro and Hayami pull apart to dip into the final bow. “Thank you, though, Ginjiro.”

Ginjiro smiles, straightening up and adjusting his suit.

“It’s no problem at all, my dearest Hayami.”

>>>

“Oh my gods!”

Tanjirou flinches as Nezuko’s shriek (although banshee- scream would probably be more appropriate) echoes through their apartment. It feels a lot louder than usual, with the entire house being empty — his parents had taken the younger kids to visit their uncles Tsugikuni and Yoriichi in the countryside. With a sigh, he sets down the maths problem he’s been attempting to solve for the past half an hour and trudges outside. “Nezuko, keep it down. You’ll wake the neighbours and we might get a noise complaint again.”

“Keep it down?” Nezuko demands, not at all listening to him. She’s sitting in front of the television, sheet mask half falling off her face in indignant rage. “Keep it down? How on earth can I keep it down when this,” she gestures at the television screen almost violently with the remote, “is happening?”

Bemused, Tanjirou raises his head to look at the television — and remembers too late the promise that he’d made with Hayami earlier that night.

“Breaking news!” The live broadcast blares, unbearably loud in Tanjirou’s ears. “Sole heiress of Sumiyuri Corporation escorted by Sato Conglomerate Heir at the Ubuyashiki Charity Banquet, seen dancing and having intimate rendezvous together! Could there be a secret romance at play between the two rising stars of the business world?” The screen immediately cuts to some footage of Hayami on Ginjiro’s arm, being escorted down the red carpet —cut— Ginjiro feeding Hayami something next to a table of refreshments —cut— Ginjiro dipping Hayami during a dance, one arm keeping her upright and his mouth dangerously close to hers.

“Industry insiders say that the two have always been close since their childhood days, and Sumiyuri Hayami even transferred to Kimetsu Academy two years ago, where Sato Ginjiro was studying at the time. Could this be the blooming of a long budding childhood romance?”

The broadcast cuts to several magazine covers and pages that Hayami and Ginjiro had done together in the past, and a few blurry photos of the two of them in school uniform clearly taken by the paparazzi.

“That’s fucking ridiculous!” Nezuko hollers, and Tanjirou has to hold both her arms because she looks like she’s about to start swinging at the television any second. “As if she would ever like that flirty prick! Hayami-nee chan has higher standards than that! This is absolutely appalling and I—”

The television suddenly goes black, and Nezuko looks up to see her older brother with the remote in hand, mouth pressed into a neutral line.

“This—” Nezuko stutters for a moment, knowing that however annoyed she is, her brother must be feeling it ten times more. “What are you still doing here? Go!”

Tanjirou frowns. “Go where?”

“To where the banquet is, of course!” Nezuko cries. “Go confess to her on air and clear up this ridiculous scandal! I’m sure that Sato guy planned this… go and show that little slimy snake who’s boss!”

“Calm down, Nezuko.” Her older brother just lets out a sigh before setting down the remote, too calm for her liking. She needs to calm down? He’s the one who needs to be more upset about this! “Waltzing up to a high society charity banquet and professing my feelings to her in front of all the cameras… that would just lead to a bigger scandal of the same sort, not to mention irrational and… pretty much impossible. Besides, the tabloids are known for exaggerating. Her relationship with Ginjiro shouldn’t concern me.”

Although she’s still fuming, Nezuko notes how he says shouldn’t instead of doesn’t, but wisely chooses not to comment on it. It’s clear that her ever patient brother is annoyed enough as it is, brows slightly furrowed and mouth pressed flat. It can’t be a great feeling to see your crush dancing the night away with your love rival. “Uhm, whatever you say, niichan. Let’s just turn off the television for the rest of the night, they don’t know anything anyway! Fuck the tabloids!”

Tanjirou puts a hand over his younger sister’s mouth, one eyebrow raised. “And what’s with all the cursing and swearing tonight, hmm? Do you want me to tell okaa-san?”

Nezuko’s pink eyes go wide with terror. “Eye urm shorry,” she apologises immediately. “Eye wheel go to me rhoom now.”

Tanjirou smiles and releases her, watching as Nezuko scuttles off to her room. “Good girl.” The second the door closes behind her, he lets out a sigh and allows himself to flop onto the couch with a groan. Was this what Hayami didn’t want him to see? Why would she not want him to see this? No matter how hard he wracks his brain, he can’t make heads or tails of it.

Unwilling to sour his mood even further, he tosses a couch pillow onto his head in an attempt to bury those thoughts. And this must have been the surprise that Ginjiro was talking about… he can just see the smug look on Ginjiro’s face the next time they meet, hear the boasting in his ear...

He rolls over and buries his face in the pillow. Tanjirou doesn’t think like he’ll be able to act like he hasn’t seen the broadcast tomorrow, so it might be better to just confess earlier and be done with it. Pulling out his phone, he texts Hayami a quick message.

Saw the news. Hope you’re doing okay.

Tanjirou’s just about to toss his phone to the side when it starts vibrating in his hand. Nearly jumping in surprise, he looks down to see who’s calling and nearly jumps again when he sees that it’s Hayami. He didn’t expect the banquet to end so quickly. He’s not really ready to talk about this, but it would be strange if he didn’t pick up when he was texting her just a moment ago…

Reluctantly, he accepts the call and holds it up to his ear. Before he can so much as get a word out, however, Hayami’s already rambling at a mile per minute.

“What do you mean you saw the news?” Over the phone, her voice sounds frantic, almost guilty. “I just got back and I saw your text, I swear, Tanjirou, I really didn’t mean for you to find out like this—” Tanjirou’s heart sinks like a stone.

Well, that just makes Tanjirou feel a whole lot worse. So Hayami was trying to hide her relationship with Ginjiro from him, which probably means that she doesn’t see him as much as a close friend as he thought she did. “It’s alright, Hayami,” he reassures her, although he’s anything but. “Sorry for breaking our promise, but Nezuko was watching the television and called me over… I’m happy for you and Ginjiro, though. He’ll take good care of you—”

“No, no!” Hayami rushes to put a stop to Tanjirou’s words. “No, I’m not dating Ginjiro!”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to explain why I was going to be at the banquet with Ginjiro, since I know the two of you don’t like each other every much and he hasn’t been treating you all nice,” Hayami hurries to explain, as though afraid that Tanjirou might just hang up on her at any moment. “I really wasn’t intending on hiding anything from you, really!”

“I understand.” Tanjirou is probably feeling happier than he should be at the news, but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment. “You don’t have to feel worried about that in the future, alright? I understand that you and Ginjiro are good friends, I won’t be petty over something like that.”

“Thanks, Tanjirou.” He can hear the smile in Hayami’s voice. “So… will I still be seeing you tomorrow?”

“Of course!” As if he would turn down seeing her. Not the slightest chance! “Ah, but won’t there be a lot of paparazzi tailing you? Would it be better for you if we reschedule?”

“No!” Hayami insists, more vehemently than Tanjirou had expected. “I mean, no, there’s no need. Sure, there’ll be paparazzi about but I’m more than used to them, and I know all their tricks. I’m not going to let some nosy reporters ruin our day out tomorrow! I was looking forward to this all week!”

The second she says that, Tanjirou feels his entire face erupt with heat. For one moment, he’s almost grateful for the distance between them — so that she can’t see just how red his face has become. Little does he know that on the other end, Hayami is on the verge of losing it with embarrassment.

“O-okay, then, if you say so.” Tanjirou says to break the silence after neither of them speak for a whole minute. “Should I, uhh, wear a disguise of some sort? Like they do in the movies?”

“Well, you don’t need to, but you can wear a mask and cap just in case. Public scrutiny and the tabloids, and all that. I’ll be wearing a disguise tomorrow too, so don’t be too surprised when you see me!” She pauses for a moment. “Not really the outing that we planned, is it? Sorry for making you have to go through something like this. You’re sure you still want to hang out, right? You’re not saying that just to make me feel better?”

“I promise that I’m not,” Tanjirou tells her. “And I don’t mind. We’ll be like those spies in the CIA movies with disguises… sounds fun.”

He knows that that was the right thing to say when he can practically hear her smile over the phone. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Hayami.”

>>>

When Tanjirou meets Hayami at their designated spot — a mall at the outskirts of the town, where far less people are likely to recognise Hayami — he’s not sure that Hayami knows what a disguise is. She’s dressed in a pair of ordinary black sweats and tee with a matching mask and cap, and she makes it look like she belongs on the front page of a women’s sportswear magazine. Not exactly being subtle like Tanjirou had thought, but Hayami is a model, after all.

He’s surprised that no one has recognised her before, though.

Hayami spots him as he approaches, giving him a bright wave. Her lilac eyes are sparkling behind her sunglasses. “It’s good to see you,” she says breathlessly, shifting from one foot to the other as she speaks. Perhaps she’s nervous about someone recognising her? “Sorry again about yesterday.”

Tanjirou smiles behind his mask. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, before pulling something out of his bag. “Here this is for you.”

Hayami takes it from him, looking down at it with bemusement before her eyes light up. “This is—!”

“One of my father’s taro mochi buns.” Tanjirou answers, scratching at his cheek a little awkwardly. “I was helping my father with the dough this morning and saved one for you since you never get any.”

“It’s not my fault I can never wake up early enough to get one! They’re always sold out by the time I reach the bakery.” Hayami tucks it into her bag like it’s some sort of precious gift. “Thank you, Tanjirou. I’ll have it later when we’re in a, uhh, more secluded place.”

“Let’s go then,” Tanjirou suggests, and for some reason, Hayami’s gaze suddenly turns furtive. “Uhh, yeah, well, about that… you see…”

“Baby, is this strange guy bothering you?” An arm reaches out, and Tanjirou looks up to see a masked vaguely familiar face pulling Hayami into his side. “Hey, we’re here together, so—”

Tanjirou exhales through his teeth. “Ginjiro-san,” he says begrudgingly. Unfortunately, he feels as though he’s already starting to catch on to what’s going on here, and he’s not at all too pleased by it.

“Kamado?” Ginjiro looks similarly bemused as to what the other is doing here, looking down at Hayami as if to confirm he’s got the right person before looking up at Tanjirou again. “Kamado? Kamado Tanjirou?”

“That’s my name, yes.” Tanjirou sighs, turning to look at Hayami, who’s suddenly not meeting his eyes. “Hayami? Is there something you would like to explain?”

“Yeah, Hayami-chan, did you mix up the dates that you were meeting the two of us or something?” Ginjiro reaches out to sling an arm over Hayami’s shoulder, which she halfheartedly bats away. “There’s no way you expected me to hang out with this guy for a whole day willingly, did you?”

Tanjirou folds his arms over his chest, unamused. “You’re taking the words right out of my mouth.”

Ginjiro’s eyelid twitches. “Now, you look here, you—”

“Stop!” Hayami steps between the two of them, pushing them apart. “It’s my fault, I’m the one who asked both of you here to hang out together.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” Ginjiro mutters under his breath, disgusted at the thought. Hayami smacks him in the arm.

“Stop that.”

“Ow…”

“As much as I hate to say it, I have to agree with Ginjiro-san on this one,” Tanjirou says, obviously quite unhappy with the whole idea. “I thought that it’s obvious that we, ah, don’t enjoy each other’s company. I don’t see how today’s going to turn out enjoyable for either of us.”

“I know, I know…” Hayami sighs, pushing out her lower lip and twirling at the end of her ponytail. “That’s exactly why I thought to ask the two of you out today, since I knew you would never agree to come if you knew I invited the other—”

“With good reason… ouch!”

“Anyways, I thought that we could all hang out together like respectful, civilised people, and that the two of you could probably get to know each other a little better and be less… antagonistic towards each other!” Ginjiro and Tanjirou give each other a doubtful look, realise that they’re making the exact same expression, and turn away immediately. “I know it’s a little thick skinned of me to ask this when I’ve basically scammed the two of you into coming here, but would the two of you please just try being friendly for one day? For what it’s worth, I am sorry for doing this.”

Ginjiro and Tanjirou make matching disgusted expressions again, and Hayami sighs internally. Look at the two of them, getting along quicker than a house on fire. Any more and the two would probably burn each other down. Literally.

“For just one day?” She pleads, trying for the best puppy dog eyes she can. Maybe this could be counted as manipulation, but if it would get these two to attempt at getting along for once, it can’t be an entirely bad thing, right? “It would make me very, very happy?”

Ginjiro grumbles half heartedly, kicking at the ground. “Well…” he mutters after a moment, “I do owe you one after yesterday, so I guess I could try my best to put up with this guy for one day. But only one day, you hear me?”

“Thank you!” Hayami says brightly, before turning to look at Tanjirou. His normally cheerful expression has gone as flat as a punctured tyre, and Hayami does feel guilty for putting him up to this. He was all excited to spend the day with her, and while she did have good intentions, she did metaphorically pull the rug out from under his feet. “Tanjirou? If you really don’t want to, I’ll understand…”

“Why does he get a Just Say No option and I don’t?” Ginjiro grouses, and Hayami ignores him.

Finally, after a few beats of silence, Tanjirou lets out an exhale and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, just for today, then.” Ginjiro’s expression turns a little dismayed — he was probably banking on Tanjirou turning this down for the both of them. “I understand that you had good intentions, but Hayami, let’s not make scamming people a habit, alright?”

Hayami grins sheepishly, releasing her hair from the death grip her fingers have on them. “Yes, understood.” She beams at the two of them. “Now, let’s get along well today!”

Ginjiro and Tanjirou exchange glances. This is going to be a very long day.

>>>

The first place their little trio for the day stops by is an obscure clothing shop, a brand which Tanjirou has never seen before. Hayami explains to him as they enter that although the pieces here aren’t those of the stereotypical big brands, they sell limited edition one of a kind fashion pieces that never go out of style. All Tanjirou knows is that he’s never had anyone escort him to a plush velvet seat the moment he’s entered a store, or offered him drinks of his choice.

From the way Hayami greets the staff by name and the way they fawn over her, however, they must already know who she is. For a moment, he worries whether the paparazzi will find them here. He’s not really interested in having his face plastered all over the tabloids, as happy as that would make Nezuko.

“They won’t find us here, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ginjiro remarks offhandedly when Hayami is being led around the store, looking through some of their newer pieces. Tanjirou stiffens for a moment, before he turns to look at Ginjiro. Had he really been that obvious? “You look like you’re a criminal who’s just escaped the pound. Relax or you’ll be giving your peasantry away.”

Tanjirou had almost been grateful until he’d said that last sentence. Barely refraining from rolling his eyes, he instead opts to stand and look through some of the items that they have on display.

There are socks here. Limited edition socks. Truly the statement of fashion and luxury. And they cost—

“You’ve probably never even seen price tags this high before,” Ginjiro comments snidely from behind, and Tanjirou refuses to grace the boy with even a single look, continuing to look through the items. He’s just trying to get a rise out of him, and Tanjirou refuses to play his petty games. His parents raised him better than this.

“So what if I haven’t?” Tanjirou retorts coolly. “I have no need for grossly overinflated socks. Not to mention, these look ridiculous.”

Okay, maybe he needs to practise some breathing exercises to calm himself down.

Ginjiro snorts. “Not that I would expect someone like you to be able to appreciate the finer arts. No wonder why Hayami wants us to wear disguises, I wouldn’t be caught dead in the same photograph as you.”

“Don’t insult Hayami’s character like that,” Tanjirou answers, turning away. Ginjiro is just trying to rile him up, he has to remind himself. He knows Hayami, and Hayami is nothing like that. They’re wearing disguises today because of the scandal from yesterday, not because Hayami is ashamed of Tanjirou.

But, a nefarious voice whispers in his mind, she didn’t have any problem being all close to Ginjiro yesterday.

“Why wouldn’t she? The two of you are leagues apart,” Ginjiro mutters under his breath. “You’re probably just some kind of charity case to her, or something along those lines…”

Tanjirou snaps. To hell with self restraint. If Ginjiro wants to aim below the belt, there’s no point holding back blows.

“Well,” Tanjirou retorts, uncharacteristically petty all of a sudden. “At least I’m not a desperate dog, slobbering all over Hayami when she doesn’t want it. Tell me, Ginjiro-san, how many times has Hayami smacked me away when I come into contact with her, hmm? How about taking that unwanted attention somewhere else where it’s actually wanted?”

Ginjiro’s face twists, and Tanjirou knows he’s hit a sore spot. “You—!” His fingers fist at Tanjirou’s collar, dragging the shorter boy closer until they’re eye to eye.

Tanjirou has no idea how that situation would have escalated, so it’s fortunate that Hayami shows up when she does, a small mountain of blouses in her arms that she can’t quite see around. “These look pretty interesting, I think I’m going to the changing rooms to try them out!” She says brightly, before trailing off when she sees the position that the two of them are in. “Uhh, guys? What’s going on here?”

The two spring apart almost instantaneously. “Nothing,” Ginjiro manages to spit out, the tips of his ears still suspiciously red. Tanjirou takes a deep breath and a moment to readjust his collar.

“He was just, uhh, cleaning something off my shirt.” Tanjirou makes an attempt at a reassuring smile, which isn’t working very well by the look of suspicion on Hayami’s face. Still, she doesn’t ask too much, instead giving them both a smile.

“Well, I was just thinking of going to try these out!” Hayami says, showing them both the clothes she’s picked out. “Want to help me rate them? I’m going to head over to the changing rooms now, but if the two of you don’t want to come along, I’m fine with that too…”

“Of course I’m coming along,” Ginjiro says loudly over Tanjirou, who barely manages to hold back a sigh and continues. “I’d like that a lot,” he says earnestly, and Hayami beams.

“Let’s go then!”

The second Hayami turns and moves off towards the changing rooms, Ginjiro and Tanjirou exchange glares one more time behind her back before they race to catch up with her.

>>>

The next stop of their little outing today is a sweets shop. Hayami has always had a preference for quaint, cosy European style cafes, and this one looks like it’d walked right off one of the sidewalks of France. After a few seconds of poring over the menu behind the counter, however, Hayami frowns and turns to look at them.

“I need to go to the bathroom for a moment,” she informs the two of them apologetically. Tanjirou barely holds back a grimace. He’s going to be left alone with Ginjiro again, and gods know how well that had gone the last time. “Would the two of you mind ordering first?”

“Of course I can order for you,” Ginjiro cuts in before Tanjirou can reply. “What would you like?”

Hayami scrunches up her face at the menu for a few seconds before giving up with a shrug of the shoulders. “Anything, really. The two of you can decide for me, I really got to go!” With that, she makes her way out of the cafe with an urgent bounce in her step, the bell hanging at the door chiming as if to announce her exit.

Great, Tanjirou thinks, keeping his eyes firmly on the menu. He’s determined not to respond to any of Ginjiro’s petty taunts today. Just great.

Neither of them say anything for a while.

“Good afternoon,” the cashier sounds polite, if not tired. Or perhaps annoyed. A university student working here part time, maybe? “What can I get you?”

“I’m thinking… a caramel and vanilla latte, and maybe some of the sweet jam or marmalade pastries,” Tanjirou says out loud, in an attempt to be polite to Ginjiro before ordering. After all, he’s already more than familiar with Hayami’s palate, having accompanied her many times to her shifts at Sweetie Cup. Hayami’s sweet tooth is almost scary to be reckoned with.

Ginjiro makes a face, as though he’s trying not to roll his eyes at Tanjirou. “That’s not even real coffee, seriously… That shit is like, ninety percent sugar and ten percent real espresso. You’re going to make Hayami drink something like that?” Tanjirou stares at him.

“That’s what she usually orders when we go out together,” he replies flatly. Ginjiro scoffs.

“Probably because she has to accommodate your peasant taste…” he mutters under his breath, before turning to the waiting cashier. “You probably don’t know what she actually likes. A rose tea and a slice of strawberry shortcake, thanks.”

Tanjirou frowns. “I don’t think you should be ordering the most expensive thing on the menu for someone who isn’t even here to make the decision.” The cashier stares between the two of them, fingers frozen above the ordering system. They’re not sure which order to take now. “It’s not very considerate to Hayami now, is it?”

“I never said I was going to make Hayami pay for it in the first place—”

“Oh, what are the two of you still doing here? You’re still not done ordering?” The two of them whirl around simultaneously at the sound of Hayami’s voice, to see her walking up to them with a look of confusion on her face. Silently, the cashier breathes a sigh of relief from behind the counter. When Hayami sees the tense looks on their faces, she frowns. “You’re not arguing now, are you?”

Tanjirou makes a face, unable to lie but not wanting to admit that they had, but before he can decide on a course of action, Ginjiro cuts in smoothly.

“No, not at all,” he says hastily. “I was just… thinking about what to order and couldn’t decide. All the stuff here looks, uhh, too appetising, y’know?” He gestures at the menu. Tanjirou stares at Ginjiro like he’s grown a second and then a third head.

They were just squabbling a moment ago, and both of them know that they’re not on good terms. So why is Ginjiro covering for him now?

The cashier gives him a flat look but wisely chooses not to comment. Their hourly rate probably doesn’t pay them enough for it. From the look on Hayami’s face, it doesn’t seem like she fully believes him either, but decides to let it drop anyway.

“Right… I’ll just… order for myself,” she says, looking between the two of them strangely before stepping up to the counter. “I’ll have a vanilla latte and a strawberry shortcake, then.”

Tanjirou and Ginjiro exchange a glance. Neither of them were totally correct after all, and so neither can gloat.

The tea is an awkward one between the two of them.

>>>

Finally, after the sun has gone down, the three of them exit the mall with Tanjirou and Ginjiro still no closer than they were before.

Still, Hayami looks pleased with how today has turned out — they haven’t gone for each other’s throats, not even once! — and so Tanjirou supposes that that is a win for all of them, Ginjiro included.

He walks both Hayami to the pick up area (—and by extension, Ginjiro), and is surprised when Katsuo-san is nowhere to be seen, only a sleek white BMW with an unfamiliar man dressed in a neatly pressed suit waiting for them. “Young Master,” he greets Ginjiro with an impeccable bow. “Miss Sumiyuri.”

Tanjirou glances over at Hayami. “Is Katsuo-san not coming?”

Ginjiro baulks. “You mean, that grumpy old man lets you call him by name?” He asks incredulously, which neither Tanjirou or Hayami seem to hear.

“Right, I was going to have a sleepover tonight at Ginjiro’s house,” Hayami explains. Tanjirou barely manages to stop himself from making a face, and then actually doesn’t when he catches sight of the smug expression that Ginjiro’s wearing. Luckily for him, Hayami doesn’t seem to notice that either. “However, I did make plans with you first today, and I do owe you one after the little stunt I pulled,” she seems sheepish at that, tugging a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “so, would you like to join us?”

Tanjirou can’t decide whether to burst out laughing or feel offended by the look of horror that appears on Ginjiro’s face.

“I’m not too sure that would be a good idea,” Ginjiro says, a tad too quickly to be sincere. “You know my younger sister, Hayami, she doesn’t like having people that she doesn’t know over—” Hayami frowns up at him.

“Isn’t Masako-chan, no, isn’t your entire family out of town tonight at a socialite gala?” Hayami raises an eyebrow. “Or do you just not want Tanjirou to come along?”

“No, no,” Ginjiro deflects instantly. “He’s more than welcome to come over if he wants to!” He looks like he would rather eat poison than say those words again.

“You don’t have to open up your house if you don’t want to,” Hayami insists. “I understand that it’s your house, and you don’t have to open it up to a stranger if you don’t want to. I can just arrange a sleepover at Tanjirou’s house another day, and—”

“No, I’m very sure! Kamado-kun can come along all he wants!”

>>>

And that’s how they — all three of them — end up at the Sato family mansion, Tanjirou dressed in some spare guest pyjamas lying around. Unlike the traditional Sumiyuri Estate, the Sato mansion seems to focus more on the newer trends, with tasteful pieces of abstract art hanging on the walls and eclectic furniture in all shapes decorating the rooms.

Hayami charges the two of them with preparing the snacks for the movie while she gathers the pillows and blankets, so the boys are left to their own devices again in the kitchen. In any ordinary setting, Ginjiro would probably just microwave popcorn or order some food online, but his ultimate rival is here, and he’s not going to pass up this chance to show Tanjirou up.

“Cream puffs,” he says, insistent. Tanjirou shakes his head from the other side of the kitchen island and holds up a bag.

“Caramel corn.”

Ginjiro scoffs. “That’s peasant food, Kamado-kun. I’m the host tonight, and I have no intention of feeding my guest second rate food.” The singular noun of guest makes it very clear that Tanjirou is unwelcome here.

“The cream puffs deflate with time and aren’t suited for the length of any movie,” Tanjirou insists, barely managing to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “Besides, Hayami likes caramel corn. She asks for them all the time when she’s over at my house for movie night.”

The little argument may have developed into a full blown kitchen showdown if it hadn’t been for Hayami wandering into the kitchen, freezing the two of them in place. “Oooh, cream puffs!” She says excitedly, reaching out to take some from Ginjiro and popping them into her mouth. Ginjiro barely has a moment to feel smug before she sees the caramel corn in Tanjirou’s arms. “And you found the caramel corn! Together with the cream puffs, I think that’ll be more than enough snacks for tonight, won’t it?”

When neither of the boys reply, she frowns at the two of them. “Uhh, guys?” Tanjirou and Ginjiro snap out of their little staring match instantly.

“Yes, of course it’ll be more than enough—”

“Right, I was just distracted for a moment—”

Hayami pauses to stare at the two of them. Were they… having a moment? Had she interrupted them when they were finally starting to get along there?

“I could go first, if the two of you weren’t done with deciding on the snacks…” Hayami says slowly, and the two boys practically scramble over each other to get out of the kitchen.

“Nope, we’re good!”

Hayami frowns, following the two boys out bemusedly. “Okay…” She moves to sit at the side of the couch, patting the seat next to her. “Come on, hurry up and sit! I want to see what movies there are available.”

Both Ginjiro and Tanjirou take a step towards the offered seat and crash hard into each other. Before Hayami can so much as ask if they’re alright, the two glare at each other, sparks practically flying.

���I like the middle seat,” Tanjirou says suddenly, the pettiest Hayami has ever heard from him, ever. Ginjiro glares back at him.

“My house. I get the middle seat.”

“And as the host, shouldn’t you be more hospitable to—”

Hayami sees no other way to break up the fight, except by shifting to claim said seat herself. “Well, now neither of you are going to get it,” she shrugs, picking up the remote to flick through the Netflix catalogue. The squabbling is cut off immediately as the two boys turn to stare at her. “Early bird gets the worm, and all that. Really though, why so much quarrel over the middle seat? Seriously, guys.”

Tanjirou’s mouth opens and closes, like a particularly entertaining goldfish, while Ginjiro just grumbles and runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s got the softest cushion,” he mutters in way of an explanation, ears red, settling in the seat to her right. Tanjirou quietly takes a seat at the other.

Hayami bounces up and down on it lightly, surprised. She never knew that, even with all the times she’s been over.

“Really? It feels the same to me— oh!” Hayami looks at the two of them, startled. “We completely forgot about the drinks. The two of you choose the movie, I’ll be right back!” And with that, she disappears into the kitchen once more.

Both of them reach for the remote at the same time, and immediately jerk their arms back when their fingers meet. Ginjiro glares.

“Hayami likes horror.”

Tanjirou glares right back. “She likes animated family movies more.” Ginjiro was probably too pushy for Hayami to turn down the horror movie — he remembers her clinging to his arm when they visited the haunted house that Rengoku-sensei had organised for their class.

“She loves horror movies! Hayami’s said that—”

Hayami appears from the kitchen, carrying three cans of soft drinks. She stops when she sees the two of them glaring at each other, her own eyes narrowing. “Boys?”

“We’re not fighting,” Ginjiro rushes to clarify (or lie, Tanjirou supposes. Semantics.) before Hayami can form a conclusion. “We were just discussing which genre we should pick from. Hayami, you like horror, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I love ho—” she begins to say, but then rapidly cuts herself off when she remembers that Tanjirou is right there, staring at her with surprise written all over his face. Right, the last haunted house… it had only been a teeny weeny fib! “Uh, I mean I love horror when I have friends to watch them with! Makes me feel less scared and all that, you know?”

Her morality rolls its eyes while her pride is crying on its knees.

Ginjiro’s chest looks a little puffed out at her words. “So that’s why you watch them with me and not this guy,” he says, and Hayami has… no clue what on earth he’s talking about now. “It’s alright, Hayami, I completely understand.”

No, there isn’t! Hayami squints at him. What exactly is there for you to understand here?

“I suppose we can watch an animated family movie tonight,” Ginijro relents, taking his seat on the couch once again. Tanjirou just stares at Ginjiro for a moment, before shrugging and sinking back into the couch, clearly as lost as Hayami feels. But well, the boys aren’t arguing anymore, so that’s a win, isn’t it?

She slips between the two of them as the beginning of Inside Out begins to play, sagging into the cushions. Ahh, she and Ginjiro have watched this movie so many times before that she can practically recite the lines in her sleep. It’s become one of her comfort movies by now, but she just knows that Ginjiro is going to be sobbing again by the end of it.

And precisely because of that, she’s already nodding off before they even get to the ten minute mark, her head lolling to the side. Ginjiro is the first to notice, and he gives her a little nudge. “Falling asleep already?” Tanjirou glances over.

“Well, it’s been a long day.” She yawns, pillowing her head on Ginjiro’s shoulder. “And the two of you always look as though you’re on the verge of throwing hands, and I can’t have that, okay? Both of you are really important to me, and I just want my friends to be friends so that we can all get along…”

With that, Hayami finally drifts off the sleep, tuckered out for the night.

Awkward but unwilling to break the silence, the movie continues until the moment Bing Bong is left in the Memory Dump, and Tanjirou hears soft sniffling from the other end of the couch. When he subtly glances to the side, he’s horrified to see Ginjiro with the blanket pulled up to his chin, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Silently, he picks up the tissue box and offers it to the boy.

For a moment, Ginjiro glares at him (although the threatening image is much ruined by his watery eyes), but at the last moment he reaches over to take some tissues and silently blows his nose.

Tanjirou returns the tissue box to the side delicately, and not another word is said until the end credits are rolling.

They’re clearing up after them with Hayami fast asleep on the couch when Ginjiro suddenly says, “You’re not actually all that bad, Kamado.”

Tanjirou pauses from where he’s picking up his empty can, wondering whether it’s another gambit from the boy. Eventually, he settles for a bemused ‘thanks, I suppose?’

Ginjiro rolls his eyes. “That’s the most that you’re getting out of me,” he snarks, before picking up a candy wrapper.

“We could be friends too, you know,” Tanjirou offers with a shrug of his shoulders. “Hayami definitely seems to think so.”

There’s a quiet snort, and Tanjirou barely manages to catch the chocolate bon bon tossed at his face. When he shakes his head, Ginjiro is grinning at him, but somehow with far less of his usual vitriol. It’s a strangely pleasant sight to see.

“Don’t push your luck too far, Kamado,” he warns with a roguish grin. “ Hayami’s still mine, and I’m keeping you at arm’s length.”

Tanjirou lets out a sigh, pushing down a smile. “We’ll see about that. I’m not planning on giving up either.”

Ginjiro scoffs at that, but there’s a grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

“And may the best man win, hmm?”

The two settle onto the pull out mattresses at the foot of the couch, and Tanjirou watches as Ginjiro pulls the covers over his head and goes to sleep. For a moment, he simply stares at Hayami’s peaceful sleeping face before he pulls the covers over his head.

“May the best man win,” he murmurs as sleep pulls him under.

>>>

Ginjiro stands his ground firmly in front of the stove. There’s a small mountain of little pancakes next to him, neatly stacked on a plate. There’s another cooking in the pan, courtesy of chef Sato Ginjiro. Tanjirou didn’t know the man could actually cook, which is another point that Tanjirou will use to contend with him.

“Pancakes. With chocolate drizzle and fresh strawberries.”

“Waffles,” Tanjirou insists, shaking his head. “Hayami likes them. She says they look like little hashtags.”

Ginjiro almost looks pained. “This is what I make every time Hayami comes over to my house for a sleepover.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s time you tried something new, isn’t it?”

Ginjiro glares at him for a moment, before he rolls his eyes and steps forward. “Oh, for god’s sake,” Tossing his spatula to the side, he shoves Tanjirou out of the kitchen. “It’s the ass crack at the beginning of the weekend, and I’ve only got pancake mix in my house. You can buy a damn waffle iron if you want to make her waffles so bad.”

“I will!” Tanjirou calls back, as he makes his way back to the living room. “You’ll see the best waffles the next time I come by your house. By the way, I think that pancake of yours is burning!”

“It isn’t! And there’ll never be a next time, asshole!”

Tanjirou swallows his laugh and sits next to where Hayami is still fast asleep on the couch. She’d slept through the whole of last night like a baby, even through Ginjiro’s awful snoring and their bickering when they’d gotten up in the morning. Tanjirou had never been more ready to suffocate a man in his sleep.

Still, there’s pancakes and regrettably no waffles to be eaten, which taste best fresh off the pan, and so Hayami must wake up. He reaches out to shake her gently.

“Hayami,” he whispers gently. “Time for breakfast.”

She doesn’t stir at all, not that Tanjirou didn’t expect it. Sumiyuri Hayami is a notoriously deep sleeper, with the ability to sleep through an earthquake. But Tanjirou knows what to do.

He moves down to where her feet are covered by the blanket, and gently tugs it off. After a few seconds of being exposed to the morning cold, one of her toes twitches and she sits up abruptly, a grumpy look on her face and her platinum hair spilling everywhere.

So pretty.

“Why?” Hayami moans, looking like she’s about to slump back into the couch. Tanjirou holds back a laugh and reaches out to shake some alertness into her.

“Ginjiro-san is making pancakes,” he explains, and at the mention of Ginjiro’s name, Hayami’s eyes become a little more alert, her back straightening.

“Tanjirou.” She rubs at her eyes, before giving him a crooked smile. “You and Ginjiro didn’t end up fighting after I fell asleep last night, did you?”

Tanjirou laughs.

“Nope, we became best friends.” He quips, and Ginjiro yells back from the kitchen.

“No, we fucking didn’t!”

Hayami manages a laugh at the thought, getting off the couch. The sun is shining, there are pancakes to be eaten, and two of her closest friends aren’t at each other’s throats — at least not for now. Maybe all her little scheming and plotting did end up with some fortunate outcomes after all.

“Good morning,” Hayami grins sleepily at Tanjirou. “Let’s go eat some pancakes.”

#demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #tanjirou #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic

[wisteriashouse]

#the comment tumblr is a cockroach never dying only evolving got me #watch this turn into the new flaming dumpster of the internet

[wisteriashouse]

#WHY DOES PIKAMAN HAVE CHECKMARKS NOW #watching tumblr spiral into insanity while twitter burns is not what i expected in 2022 #but god am i living for it