#hideweek2k17

[somewhereelsenow00]

Bateleur

Hide Week 2017 Day 1: 永 eternity // forever

Summary: The Night Circus is an enigma that none have been able to understand. It appears, entertains, then vanishes, and all who have witnessed what lies within have never come out the same. Hide is but one of its various centerpieces, playing the role of a charismatic magician. He soon comes to realize that some roles come with a steep price to pay.

Notes: This work is Hide-centric, and will be featuring multiple pairings with Hide, namely TouHide, HideKane, and TsukiHide. Give him all the love this week <3

Leave kudos/comments on the AO3 ver.! (link is on my bio)

Chapter 1 of 7: truth of a coin

The circus arrives without warning.

He was barely seven when his memories began at their clearest and it could be said that none of the earliest ones were very pleasant. His first memory alone was grim enough to ruin many a dinner party. He preferred not to dredge it up, but it was inevitable that he would return to it, because then he could disillusion himself when days passed that were so casual it was nearly cruel. Now things appear so bleak as to destroy his vision of a peaceful eternity in his new home, with his new family.

And so he would occasionally remember that night, so black it was like the heavens had turned its back on him. He remembered, with disturbing clarity, the rough, callused palms on his bare shoulders shoving him forward. He could still feel his old shoes slipping and sliding beneath him on the sea-salted, lantern-lit cobblestones. The smell of fish and sweat, cold sea spray and beer, jostled together in the air like the crowd around him. There was a night bazaar going on along the dock. Merchants, having unloaded their wares from their ships, were shouting to be heard over the din. People were everywhere he turned. The breeze was nonexistent. Everything was sticky with heat and words travelled from mouth to ear and crawled all over your skin.

“Move,” said the voice behind him, rough with a dozen nights’ of absinthe and insomnia. The voice expected obedience and reminded him of the countless times he had not obeyed quickly enough. He scrambled forward, pushing into the crowd and feeling inexplicably like a camel being shoved through the eye of a needle. He squeezed past men and women clamoring to see what they could spend their money on. Crushed from all sides, he soldiered forward, never looking behind him.

The crowd began to peter out where the bazaar itself ended, just a few yards away from the wooden docks. Here it was darker and quieter, and the sea breeze was prevalent. He found himself inhaling deeply, marveling at the sheer difference between standing here and standing in the midst of a crush of people shouting and sweating underneath their frilly clothes. He wondered how they could even endure the suffocation for more than a minute when they could simply come out here and breathe and everything would be so much the better. Silly adults.

Then he was shoved forward again and the time to enjoy himself was over. He moved clumsily in the night, startling one or two cats slinking around nearby. There, in the shadows, beneath the carved figurehead of a siren at the prow of a moored ship, stood a man with his arms crossed. His eyes were impatient slits and his clothes bespoke an affluent background. When he spoke however, his tone was completely pleasant.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir…?”

“Names are unimportant,” said the gruff voice.

The man raised his eyebrows but made no comment. Then his gaze fell upon The Boy for the first time. “This must be him.”

“Yes.” The Boy was nudged rather sharply in between his shoulder blades. “Show him.”

It was undeniable what The Boy was being asked to show. He fished out a coin from his pocket and closed his fingers around it. Then opened them to reveal that the coin had vanished from his palm. The man watching frowned.

“I hope for your sake that you didn’t bring me here to witness a few parlor tricks,” he said, a sharp edge to his tone.

“Hold out your hand,” the voice ordered.

A muscle on the man’s jaw twitched and it was clear that his patience was being tested. But he held out his hand, palm up. The Boy placed his hand over it, and let the coin wink back into existence between their palms. He held up his hands and let the man study the coin with a nearly emotionless stare. He also glanced at The Boy, noting his bare arms.

“Alright, how much would you like for him?” he asked after a few minutes of scrutinizing The Boy and the coin in his hand.

“One hundred pieces.”

“Rather steep, for parlor tricks.”

“Parlor tricks. I think we’ve shown you enough to prove—”

“Fifty or none.”

The temperature seemed to rise despite the proximity of the sea and the absence of the sun. The man had a calm demeanor, despite being pushed to the edge of his patience earlier, as he leveled his gaze at the voice behind The Boy. For a long, long moment, nobody spoke and it seemed as though the deal would never be brokered—though of course, The Boy didn’t really understand the repercussions of such a deal. All he knew was that he stood between two of possibly the most dangerous people in his world.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. The Boy was pushed forward with a roughness that hardly surprised him. He stumbled a few steps, then another hand steadied him with a firm grip on his upper arm. There was the sound of coins jingling together inside a small sack cloth pouch. It was tossed and caught, examined and then pocketed. The Boy looked up and the hand on his arm fell away.

“Follow me,” the man said.

The Boy followed him. They moved past the ships that resembled hulking beasts in the blackness of night. The man walked with a bit of a limp, The Boy noticed. He felt the urge to look back, but he ignored it. Somehow, he knew that the voice behind him would never speak to him again.

They rounded a corner and suddenly they were looking down an alleyway that opened up to the busy thoroughfare of the night bazaar. A wooden sign indicating the entrance to an inn hung over a grimy old door set into one side of the alley. The man knocked on it and when it swung open, he beckoned The Boy over before ducking inside.

The familiar smell of  alcohol assaulted him, alongside the smells of cooked meat, stale bread, and sea salt caught in the dry wood holding up the upper floors. There were about a dozen patrons milling about in groups by the few windows open to the docks or near the bar where the innkeeper returned after unlatching the door for the man and The Boy.

A few minutes later, they found themselves seated at the bar with plates of breads and meats being placed before them. The Boy stared blankly at the meal, until the man elbowed him a little in the arm.

“Eat,” he said. “You’re thinner than a twig. Did he feed you at all in the past week?”

The Boy didn’t answer, but obeyed the order to eat. He picked up the bread and tore it in half, dropped a shred of meat in between and bit into it. He chewed slowly and soundlessly.

“My name is Marude,” the man said and after waiting in vain for a response, continued, “Itsuki Marude. You might know me as Papilio.”

The Boy did not know him as Papilio, or by any other name. He ate until there was no more food on his plate. Perhaps Marude was waiting for The Boy to recognize him or to convey genuine surprise. When he elicited neither reaction, he pushed his plate away and nodded in thanks to the innkeeper. The Boy followed him up the stairs and into the third door on the left. Waiting for them were two twin beds and an unlit fireplace. It was a luxurious space, much larger than The Boy had ever seen for a bedroom.

“You like this?” Marude asked him. Immediately, whatever wonder he felt was quashed by the reality of the present. He made no response and his gaze followed Marude as the man strolled over to the fireplace. Then, without warning, the logs within began to crackle and pop with heat until flames engulfed the wood and warmth began to permeate the air around The Boy’s thin sleeveless shirt. Marude peeled off his coat, damp with the sea, and placed it over a nearby grille to dry by the fire.

Marude instructed The Boy to bathe first and later, both of them were sitting by the fire in casual loose pants and linen shirts, all owned by Marude and hung from The Boy’s small frame.

“I’m going to take you on a ship,” Marude said, as the fire seemed to snicker softly. “And you will possibly never set foot on this island ever again.” He looked at The Boy, who was staring quietly at his toes, now free of weeks-old dirt and filth.

“You will never see your father again, and I am going to teach you the things that he never understood. All the things that you can do.”

The Boy raised his eyes at him now. Nobody but the old voice behind him had ever been so forthright about his outlandish abilities. Still, he said nothing.

Marude held up a coin—his coin. Held it between thumb and forefinger, heads side facing The Boy. Engraved into the flat circle of gold was the visage of the king, framed with olive laurels and a tiny dove with wings outspread as it landed upon the laurels. Then, suddenly it was flying. Its minuscule wings beat up and down and it was flying in smooth circles within the confines of the coin metal. The king’s shoulders sagged, and he seemed to sigh, as if relaxing from holding the elegant pose for too long. He caught The Boy’s eye and smiled graciously. The laurels’ leaves fluttered ever so slightly from an unseen breeze.

“Your world is infinitely more vast than you can ever imagine,” Marude told him as he watched the dove nestle into the king’s cupped hands. “Your world is not theirs. Yours is magic.”

“Magic,” The Boy whispered. His first word in weeks, maybe months. His eyes widened at the scratching in his throat, the sensation of sound finally escaping his lips. When he looked up, Marude was smiling, his eyes glinting with pride.

The next morning, Marude and The Boy were boarding a merchant’s galleon bound for the mainland. As the island shrank and vanished over the blue horizon, The Boy pushed off against the railing, the salty wind whipping his golden brown hair up and about his head. Marude stood nearby, watching not the island but the vast empty sea that they were sailing headfirst into.

This was one of The Boy’s fondest memories, but also one of his most terrible ones. It wrought in him an irreparable pain and yet it was the hopeful and lighthearted beginning of his new life.

Years later The Boy stands watching the sun sink into the treetops of a faraway forest. He flips a coin, up and down, up and down, lost in thought and reminiscences. A hand clasps his shoulder and he turns around.

“Hide,” Touka says, her hair looking beautiful as ever in the dying light of the sunset. “I’ve been looking all over for you. The twins absolutely massacred their set and it’s going to take far more than just me and Yoshimura to fix everything by midnight.”

He raises an eyebrow and his lips quirk into a mischievous grin. “Heads or tails?” he asks.

Touka rolls her eyes. “This isn’t the time—”

“It’s always the time.”

“Fine. Tails.”

The coin is tossed and it flips twice before vanishing. Hide bends down and plucks a flower bud from the ground. He offers it to Touka, who accepts it with pursed lips. The flower blooms between her fingers and the coin falls from within its petals. She catches it with her other hand and it lands squarely on her palm.

“Tails,” she reports as she hands the coin back.

“Oh really?” Hide says, smirking. “It looked like heads to me.” He smiles, takes the flower from Touka and tucks it in her ear. His fingers trail down her jaw to her chin. “I think someone owes me a kiss.”

For a moment it seems as though he’s swept her off her feet, but then she scowls and pushes him away. She turns away, her ears turning red. “I told you, it’s not the time for your insipid games.”

“And I told you that it’s always time for a bit of fun.”

She turns to him with a grimace. “This is why all the girls hate you. Go ahead and stay here however long you want, then, and we’ll see how Papilio will deal with you at dinner next week.” Then she stomps away, trampling a few flowers and buds in her path.

He watches her go, like the island of his memories vanishing from view. Looking down, he can see the king chuckling in his coin. He already knows what “Papilio”will do if he doesn’t hurry after Touka and help fix whatever damage the twins have done. He sighs, then calls her name.

It’s after the traditional dinner party that the circus holds after a week of performing in one place, that Marude tells Hide to stay. Touka shoots him a look that screams I told you so before she leaves, her rouge dress accentuating her figure so perfectly that he has wonder if she wore it for the sole purpose of tormenting him.

Marude is thirteen years older than he’d been when they first met on a small trading isle in the tropics. The age doesn’t show on his body, but in his eyes as he gazes at Hide with an unreadable expression. They are in his office, just one room of dozens in this old manor of his. Despite not using the place for a month or so in between dinners, everything remains pristine and dustless. Hide is unaware of any maids who come and go to clean, and he is more or less sure of the true reason behind the spotlessness.

“Have you been well?” Marude asks him. “We hardly have the time to see each other, ever since…” His voice trails away, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the implication clear. Both of them know exactly what he is talking about.

“Nothing has been too difficult, Father,” Hide replies smilingly. He can’t recall when they’d last spoken casually, nor could he remember when he’d last called Marude his “Papa.” He continues, nevertheless. “I’m grateful to your thorough instruction. I would be unable to perform otherwise.”

Marude nods slowly. “Yes. I’m glad to see you’ve adjusted quickly.” His gaze is faraway, almost thoughtful, when he falls silent for a moment. The lull in conversation is awkward, as expected from a conversation between a father and son who haven’t spoken in nearly half a year since a rather horrific falling-out. When Marude looks at Hide again, his expression has hardened. “I called you here to tell you that we will be having a new addition to our array of performers.”

Hide is unfazed, though he indulges the announcement with the feigned surprise and interest it is due. It is not unusual to have a new performer. In fact what is unusual is that Marude took the painstaking effort of informing him when the matter could have easily been skirted around entirely until the new performer physically arrived. And yet he also knows that there can only be one possible explanation for this private announcement… no, warning.

“You have probably guessed it by now, but the man currently sitting on a train on his way here, is the one I told you about six months ago.”

Hide licks his lips and stands up straighter. “What is he called?”

Marude has scarcely opened his mouth to reply when the door unlatches itself and a stranger lets himself in.

“I am Souta,” he says, tipping his hat to Marude. He produces an apple out of thin air and holds it out to Hide, grinning wickedly. “Pardon the intrusion, but I simply couldn’t restrain myself. It was the perfect stage cue.”

“My name is Hide.” He does not take the apple. Instead he stares warily at the man he is supposed to fight to the death. “Welcome to the Night Circus.”

2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // AO3

[somewhereelsenow00]

bateleur

Hide Week 2017 Day 2: 近 near // similar

Summary: The Night Circus is an enigma that none have been able to understand. It appears, entertains, then vanishes, and all who have witnessed what lies within have never come out the same. Hide is but one of its various centerpieces, playing the role of a charismatic magician. He soon comes to realize that some roles come with a steep price to pay.

Notes: This work is Hide-centric, and will be featuring multiple pairings with Hide, namely TouHide, HideKane, and TsukiHide. Give him all the love this week <3

Leave kudos/comments on the AO3 ver.! (link is on my bio)

Chapter 2 of 7: flintlock heart

Gates Open at Nightfall & Close at Dawn

Trespassers Will Be Exsanguinated

Souta remains tight-lipped about himself. Hide cannot pry anything meaningful from him outside of a few remarks on how Hide tries a tad too hard to conceal his true self. Eventually Hide comes to dread any interaction he must have with the man, obligatory or otherwise.

Hide is seated on the train with the twins when someone comes by their compartment and knocks on the door and enters. He knows it’s Touka before her face and figure appear. Kuro had said an hour prior that Touka was coming, before going back to an animated discussion with Shiro about how to make a delicious beetle soup.

Touka takes her place next to Hide, across the now snoring twins, and the two of them watch the countryside fly past in silence. Their bodies are a handspan apart, and the distance wears heavily on Hide’s senses. The temptation to reach out to her firmly builds a wall between them that cannot be broached. At some point, he tears his gaze away from the window and looks at her. If he let himself think about it any deeper, he might come to the conclusion that she was waiting for him to look at her all this time. She smiles.

“Hello,” he says, a lump in his throat. It’s unlike him to be at a loss for words, but her smile takes his breath away every time.

“I hate him too,” she replies, settling back into the velveteen seat. “He told me I would do much better as a whore than as a gymnast.”

“What?”

She smiled again, and laughs. “He didn’t say it like that,” she says. “He was much more pleasant about it.” Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she lets one hand rest on the seat, fingers curled around the edge loosely. He is mesmerized by every movement and his heart snags on the twinkle in her eye when she notices how nervous he is. “I’m sorry I was rather mean-spirited last week. You can stop avoiding me, I’m not angry anymore.”

He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. “Really? You’re not going to have me thrown off the train if I try and hold your hand?”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” she says and she turns her hand palm-up in silent invitation.

Hide rests his palm against hers, letting their fingers intertwine, and he marvels at the feeling, like it’s the first time he’s ever done this, though he’s already done it at least a dozen times before. With Touka, everything always feels like the first time.

“I hear we’re passing cities along the shore,” she says. “I can’t remember the last time I saw the sea. We’ve always been performing so far inland.”

“The sea is beautiful,” he says, running a thumb from her wrist to the base of her thumb, back and forth in a lazy rhythm despite the turmoil his heart feels at the prospect of being so close to the sea again. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Touka shoots him a droll look and he laughs, leaning back into the seat. She softens at his amusement and asks, “What was it like, living on an island?”

“Terrible,” he says. “Life without you anywhere is terrible.”

“I’m going to kick you if you don’t answer me seriously,” she says, though she’s suppressing a smile as she does.

“I’m being perfectly serious! It was terrible. I prefer the mainland much more.”

“Why?”

“It’s cooler, for one. And you don’t wake up with salt in your… you know. You don’t eat fish every day. People leave you alone, and you needn’t care about what your neighbor does on the weekends.” He rubs his cheek absentmindedly, as he recalls, against his will, the sticky heat that once used to permeate the air and cling to his skin and plaster his hair to his forehead in his younger days on the island. “It’s exhausting to live in such a small town, cut off from the world with only galleons that come and go to give us news from the outside.”

“Seems to me,” she says, “like you enjoyed living there.”

Hide glances at her, smiling wryly. “Maybe I did,” he says. “But I’m glad Father took me when he did. If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t be the dashing young man sitting next to you now.”

Touka rolls her eyes, typical of her, and laughs through her nose. She leans her head against his shoulder. They sit, once again, in comfortable silence, reveling in each other’s warmth and presence. Both of their gazes fall upon the sleeping twins. Kuro lies with her head on Shiro’s lap while Shiro’s cheek is buried in her hand, her elbow resting against the polished wooden sill. A feeling of longing pools in the pit of Hide’s stomach and he closes his eyes for a minute.

In another life, had he been born without the ability to turn books into mice or keep ice from melting forever, perhaps he might be able to dream of a future with Touka. A golden wedding ring, a home in the city, and children laughing as they play a game of tag or hide-and-seek outside. That is the life he longs for, and the life he can never have with her.

Because his life is tied to the circus now, and his blood is meant to ensure its survival. Souta is the usurper, the one who challenges his will to stay. They must now duel, quietly, behind the velvet curtains, to decide who will take control of the circus and everyone within.

He can vaguely feel Touka’s grip tighten around his hand, but he has already fallen asleep.

Word travels fast from town to town, city to city, about the circus that has set up its tents a few miles away from shore and the nearest signs of civilization. Hide buttons his white three-piece suit and shrugs on the jacket. He looks in the mirror and sweeps the hair away from his eyes. He wears his gloves, stark black against his clothes.

Night arrives and the line of people waiting to enter the circus extends to a quarter of a mile. They marvel at its monochrome tents and winding paths. Some wander into the magician’s tent, and are wonderstruck at the way he pulls off his gloves and turns them into black-and-white birds before their very eyes. He conjures a gentle snowfall, and the audience is pleasantly surprised to find that the snowflakes taste of vanilla. He gifts a little girl with an flower he crafts out of the snow. It’s made of ice, she tells her mum excitedly. The magician tells her that it will never ever melt. When the audience leave, they can hardly describe what they saw as anything less than pure magic.

After his second show, Hide decides to take a stroll around the circus. He buys himself a cup of hot chocolate and wanders aimlessly. He drops by Touka’s tent, and catches a glimpse of her on a tight wire, holding her body up effortlessly on one hand. In a superhuman feat of strength and balance, she lowers herself until she is a hairsbreadth away from the wire and pushes off, propelling herself into a backflip. The world seems to slow all around her, and a collective breath is held.

She lands gracefully on both feet, still perfectly balanced on the tight wire. The audience gasps and cheers and tosses black-and-white roses and shouts her name.

He has to force himself to turn away because he knows that if he stays, he might not leave for the rest of the night. On a whim, he drops by the twins’ tamer show, and has to admit that they are incredibly skilled for their age; they get as many as a dozen monkeys and cockatoos, a tigress, and an elephant to all cooperate in a single performance. He watches until the elephant allows the tigress to climb upon her back before making his way out of the tent.

At half past midnight, he has barely half an hour left before his next show. He chooses one last tent to enter—a tent that he and Marude worked hand in hand to create. From scribblings on paper to detailed models cut and pasted painstakingly with cardboard. Then after proper ritual and research, hard work and many a night slaving away at Marude’s desk and study, their Eden was born.

As Hide walks the dirt path leading up to a pristine white gazebo marking the very center of the tent, the air crackles with energy. Flowers lazily open and close their petals around him, like hundreds of little white and yellow eyes blinking slowly trying to see him more clearly. He knows he is not alone, but he does not know who is here. He feels the center of his body gravitate to the presence almost instantly. His pulse accelerates with every step he takes that brings him closer. His breath seems to catch in his throat.

The feeling is far from new. Seven years ago, meeting Touka had felt the exact same way. The same crumbling sensation in his bones, the same rush of air leaving his body, the same weakness in his fingers. It is all the same. He is no stranger to any of it.

And so when he turns the corner and sees the hooded figure, he does not falter. He is about a foot away when he finds himself at the business end of a gleaming cutlass.

“One more step and you won’t be walking out of this tent with two legs,” the stranger says, without so much as turning around, which Hide considers rather rude of him. Then again, thrusting a cutlass in anyone’s face is not usually considered polite in most cities. Hide, however, is well in his element. He raises both hands in an attempt to placate the situation.

“I’m unarmed,” he says.

The cutlass remains where it is.

“I work here. I’m the magician. I have a show in ten minutes. You could come. I’m quite good.” The words come tumbling out indiscriminately and he knows he sounds like a fool. Yet try as he might, he simply cannot think of a better way to get the stranger to stay. Standing one sword’s length away from him is already making Hide’s chest squeeze so painfully, he wants desperately to take a step back.

The stranger turns to face him, and though the cowl casts shadows upon his face, Hide can see a beautiful creature of a man in front of him. The cutlass is raised higher, its tip pressing against Hide’s chin.

“Show me a trick, then.”

“What?”

“If you really are a magician as you claim you are, perform a trick for me.”

Hide can smell the metal that threatens to slice open his skin. The stranger’s breathing has not changed. He does not fidget. His eyes, grey and clear as can be, watch Hide with a wariness that he very nearly pities.

Without breaking eye contact, Hide reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out his ever-present coin. For a brief second, he sees the king emblazoned on the coin wink at him knowingly. He raises it up for the stranger to eye level.

“Look and tell me what you see,” Hide instructs, adopting the same tone he uses in his performances. Slow, encouraging, yet somehow distant and cool. He wants to enthrall not to terrify, after all. The stranger narrows his eyes.

“Gold piece. Standard issue of the crown,” he says without pause.

“Now look again.”

This time, when the stranger squints, he lowers the cutlass—seemingly unconsciously—and he comes closer. Hide then finds himself gazing at the stranger’s face far longer than he should, his eyes tracing a well-defined nose and pink lips against sunburnt skin smeared with dirt and smelling, irrevocably, like the sea.

“It’s me,” the stranger breathes. His brows furrow and he reaches for the coin. “How…?”

“Magic,” Hide says, letting him take the coin and study it, flipping it over and over as if the act would bring all its secrets tumbling out. “I did tell you I’m a magician.”

The stranger gives him a long, strange look before sheathing his cutlass and returning the coin. He throws the cowl back and Hide is treated to the sight of a mop of shaggy black hair that looked like it had been cut by a chronic drunkard.

“My name is Ken,” the stranger says. “I’d like to watch your show, if you’d allow me the pleasure.”

“So you can be civilized,” Hide says, smiling.

Ken’s glare is like acid. “I take it back. I have no desire to watch you and your tricks.” He attempts to shoulder past Hide.

“Wait!” Hide says hastily, grabbing Ken by his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun. Please, do come and watch my show.”

Ken proves surprisingly easy to persuade. He says, “Alright.” and lets Hide take the lead.

The path back to his tent is suddenly different. Somehow, at some near-indiscernible level, the once-familiar winding paths have been altered and Hide feels as though he is walking on nothing at all. It is a weakness in his legs but a strength everywhere else. He has not felt this way since the day he first met Touka and already he can feel the guilt creeping into his conscience.

He holds the tent flap open for Ken to duck inside and he does not follow. He has another way of entering, and it is hardly so mundane as the entrance itself. He lingers for a moment, as if hesitating without knowing the reason why. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he’s back in his dressing room, pulling on his white suit jacket.

Awash in lantern light in the midst of a steady stream of circus-goers walking from here to there and there to here, he still cannot forget the look of pure wonder in Ken’s eyes when he saw his own image engraved onto the coin. In them, Hide had seen himself as a child discovering the things that he could do—an undiluted sense of shock and awe, laced with curiosity. It is a look that leaves him shaken to the core.

He hopes he can see it again, and he envisions it in his head even as the world around him dissipates and he reappears, in a cloud of mist, before his audience.

1 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // AO3

[somewhereelsenow00]

bateleur

Hide Week 2017 Day 3: 英 hero // wisdom

Summary: The Night Circus is an enigma that none have been able to understand. It appears, entertains, then vanishes, and all who have witnessed what lies within have never come out the same. Hide is but one of its various centerpieces, playing the role of a charismatic magician. He soon comes to realize that some roles come with a steep price to pay.

Notes: This work is Hide-centric, and will be featuring multiple pairings with Hide, namely TouHide, HideKane, and TsukiHide. Give him all the love this week <3

Leave kudos/comments on the AO3 ver.! (link is on my bio)

Chapter 3 of 7: crossroads

There is so much that glows in the circus, from flames to lanterns to stars. … I sometimes suspect the entirety of the circus is itself a complex illusion of illumination.

Hardly a day passes that Hide does not think of Ken, who has been visiting the circus almost nightly for months. By now, though Ken has remained all but silent on the matter, Hide has already guessed his true identity. It is hardly anything that requires a detective’s sharp intellect. With a cutlass, a flintlock pistol, sand in his hair, dirt (occasionally blood) on his cheeks, and the undeniable smell of the sea on his clothes, Ken is not exactly making a secret of it.

And yet there are more pressing matters, such as Souta’s increasing popularity and Touka’s proportionately increasing ire towards Souta.

A year and a half ago, Marude had come clean, unveiling the truth of the circus to Hide. That there were two forces, within and without, that fought for its possession every generation. For to hold the circus is to hold near-eternal youth and power. Two bloodlines, of whom the ancestors laid claim upon the creation of the circus, are the only ones that can hold sway upon it. Marude, having no heir, had named Hide his son, and by doing so, had permanently sealed his fate.

Hide remembers being furious and he remembers, with no small amount of shame, his unprovoked outburst. He and Marude hadn’t been able to talk normally ever since. Some nights, before he lays down on his cot to sleep, he wishes that things had gone differently. The words he said, the things he did, he wishes he’d known better. He wishes that he had acted with grace and maturity, like any man of twenty years would have done. And yet he had been childish. Petty. He had treated his father with disgrace despite everything Marude had done for him.

When he finally confesses this to Touka, she grasps his hand tightly and tells him, “People only regret things because we haven’t invented a way to go back in time and warn ourselves that we’re about to make a huge mistake.”

They are lying in a field of tall grass, looking up at a field of stars, and he knows she is looking at him but he cannot look back at her, because there is the guilt gnawing away at him, and he still does not know what to do with it. How can a man love another, when his own beloved is lying right next to him, whispering words of encouragement and comfort? It is madness.

“You can’t change the past,” Touka continues. “But the future is far from writ in stone. You can still be a better man than you were that night, or any night before and after. Every morning, when you wake, you are already a better man than you were yesterday, because that’s who you are. I know you. You have never once let the past define you.”

“Touka,” he says, and when he says her name, his heart is aglow with love. “Thank you.” He leans toward her and presses his lips to her temple. He sighs and drops back down onto the grass, one arm around Touka and the other on his stomach. He has not felt this lighthearted in weeks. They lay together and fall asleep under the stars until the sky is shot through with the colors of dawn and sunrise.

Later Hide knocks on Marude’s door. It unlatches and swings open and now the two of them are trapped together, yet again, in the confines of a suffocatingly awkward atmosphere. Hide knows from the look on his father’s face that the suffering is mutual. He decides that it is time to take Touka’s nugget of wisdom and share it, because Marude seems almost, if not at all, afraid of bridging the growing chasm between them.

“Father,” he ventures, hesitantly, onto the thin ice, “would you like to have a drink with me tonight?” He smiles, and puts all of his sincerity into the smile.

And all at once, the wrinkles seem to vanish from Marude’s face. His shoulders fall and he walks to Hide, and gathers him into a tight embrace. “I would love to have a drink with you, Hide,” Marude says. “I would absolutely love to.”

They leave for Marude’s favorite pub, and share several pints of beer with a multitude of stories and jokes and circus gossip. It is as if the dam has been broken utterly, and all the words they had wanted to say are spilling out into their glass mugs, and warming their bodies from the inside out. They laugh and neither of them want the night to end, because they fear that once morning comes, they will return to being more like strangers than family.

But Hide believes that they can be the father and son that they truly are, and with every story they share with each other, he knows that they can heal this wound together.

“You know I…” Marude says slowly, frowning at his half-empty mug of beer, though from his glassy gaze, Hide can tell he is more inebriated than angry. “I sometimes wish I hadn’t… taken you from your real father. When… Before, when I first came to your island, I hadn’t been worried about anyone but myself. With what happened to Chika and I…” He shakes his head solemnly and downs another gulp. “I was dead inside. I had no purpose, except to continue on with the bloodline pact… I had to find you, or someone like you. So that I could… retire, from this life.”

Hide can feel his his grip on his own mug tightening. “Why didn’t you, when you found me? You had no reason to… to stay.”

“Well, I’d promised to teach you,” Marude says, the vestiges of a smile tinging his expression. “And, of course, your father hadn’t mentioned in his letters just how maltreated you’d been… I suppose I wanted to protect you, small and weak as you were back then… You know firsthand that I wasn’t at all prepared to be a father.”

“You certainly weren’t the best.”

He laughs. “I hope you’re not only saying that because I never let you join me in the clubs when you were younger.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”

“Cruel boy, where did you learn your manners?”

“Where do you think?”

Marude laughs out his nose and wags a finger at Hide. “Your silver tongue is what gets you in trouble all the time, Hide,” he says. “But it’s true that I was far from a role model… Even now I wonder how you might’ve grown up if I’d taken a wife.” He rubs his chin. “Though I would never feel inclined to court her. Any woman would be infuriated with me, I’m sure. Would you pass me another pint, my boy?”

Hide grins and pours him another mug. “You’re exaggerating now, Father. You’re quite popular with the ladies of the circus.”

Marude snorts. “I doubt they’d be so quick to flatter me if I weren’t giving them the gold they need for their dresses and face paint.”

“Well, you might be right there.”

They both laugh and the rest of the conversation is full of high-spirited banter and jokes and teasing the likes of which one can only share with their father. When Hide stumbles into his cot that night, he recalls everything with a fondness that can last decades. He treasures, for that moment, that night, and every day after, having a father that he loves, and who loves him.

According to the rules of old, Marude is not allowed to help Hide in his years-long duel with Souta. Any hints he wishes to give will be taken from his memory and he is usually left in a very disorienting position of having words to say but never really knowing what they are. Hide understands by now that this is his fight and his fight alone.

The duel itself is not necessarily combative. The two can simply wait it out, until one of them is unable to continue. This is the method Hide prefers, and it seems that Souta is also predisposed to avoid an outright battle. This is unless, of course, he is only biding his time for a proper challenge.

Hide sighs into his cup of tea and watches the surface of it ripple with his breath. Outside the rainfall becomes almost deafening and he worries Ken will not be able to make it in this weather. That is when, almost on cue, the door to the café swung open with a soft tinkling of the bell attached to it. When Ken steps in and hands off his waterlogged hat and coat to the nearest server, Hide can feel his cheeks flush.

He’s dressed in typical city fashion, perhaps in an effort to disguise himself, with a simple yet well-fitting black frock coat over long trousers and dress shoes. Hide knows that he must be overreacting—almost every other man on the street is dressed similarly, after all. Perhaps it is Ken’s upper body, which is telltale of years spent mastering the sword. Or perhaps it is the way he has brushed his hair and tied it back into a neat ponytail. Or maybe it is the way he walks, with a purpose and no simple air of confidence in his posture.

“Good afternoon,” he says as he approaches Hide and takes his seat across the small table.

“No need to be so polite, Ken,” Hide says, grinning and flagging down a waitress with a wave of his hand. She arrives at their table promptly and leaves with Hide’s order of another pot of tea.

“Will you be coming back soon?” Ken asks after the waitress has left them alone.

Hide flashes him an impish smile over the rim of his cup. “Do you miss me?”

Ken blushes, catching him by complete surprise, and avoids his gaze. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost indiscernible. “I do.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. Not for the first time since meeting Ken, he is at a loss for words. Ken has always been forthright with Hide. He never feels the need to pretend, to conceal his emotions. This, to Hide, is akin to a breath of fresh air. The fate of the circus weighs heavily on his heart, and to have time away from it all is precious to him.

But the truth remains that Touka knows nothing about Hide’s attraction to Ken, and this has Hide at a crossroads. The guilt sticking to the soles of his feet is his shadow—he cannot run from it, even if he really wants to. And whichever path he chooses, he will regret for the rest of his life.

The waitress returns with a pot of tea. She smiles prettily at them before attending another table. Ken pours himself a cup and the silence between them stretches itself thin.

“I know about her,” Ken says abruptly, shattering the silence and the tension grates further on both of them, turning the air thick as poison. “I know she’s your lover.” But of course he knows. Hide has already told him. Yet the words are like knife wounds to raw skin. “And I know what this is. What I am, to you.”

“Ken, if you think you’re nothing more than an… affair to me, you’re wrong.”

“Then what am I?” Ken asks, his eyes hard and cold as ice. “You’ve been lying to me for almost a year. I knew and I said nothing.”

“Why did you stay,” Hide says quietly, “when you knew that I had her?”

Ken looks up at him and he almost cannot bear the way those grey eyes plead silently for a choice that he has to make, here and now.

“I stayed because I’ve fallen miserably for you, Hide.”

“Ken—”

“My whole life, I’ve learned take what’s in front of me, and not hope for much more. With you, I… Hide, I’ve learned to hope for something I will and can never have. You can trust me when I say that it hurts me more than I’d like to admit.”

“Ken, I’m sorry.” It is as if the world has been pulled from beneath him and he is falling with no way of knowing to where. “I wanted to court you with all the love and care you deserve.”

“Wanted?”

“I still do. I think—I feel—like I’m going mad. I’ve fallen in love with two beautiful people, and no matter what happens, I will end up hurting one or both of you.” Hide wrings his hands, more helpless than he’s ever been in his life. “I know this sounds… revolting, but I know in my heart that I love you both more than I can ever begin to explain in words.”

“Hide,” Ken says softly. “Hide, look at me.”

Hide brings his head up slowly, reluctantly meeting Ken’s eyes with his.

“You already know what, or who, I am. I’m a criminal, a thief. A pirate.”  He reaches for Hide’s hands, and covers them with his. “Even if I wanted to—and I do want to—be with you, it wouldn’t last. I knew that, and yet I stayed. I should have left, but I stayed, and I came back, again and again and again.” The hurt in his eyes is genuine, and cuts Hide so deep that he’s certain it must be irreparable. “When I got your letter, I told myself over and over I wouldn’t come today. But before I knew it, I was here, walking like the dead, with only you on my mind.” He laughs bitterly. “If you think you’re going mad, then I’ve no idea what I am for you.”

“Ken, please, listen to me.”

He withdraws his hands from Hide’s. He is smiling, but Hide never knew that a simple smile could hurt so much. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to spend the day with me, but I saw you thinking of her again, and I couldn’t keep still.”

“Ken,” Hide says.

“The tea’s gone cold.” Ken stands up to leave. “Thank you, Hide. I’m sorry.”

“Ken, please. I have only one request.” Hide wants to get on his knees, to beg, but his body is paralyzed and he can’t move an inch. “I… Please don’t go.”

Grey eyes watch him, as if pitying him. “That’s the one thing I can’t do. Goodbye.”

And he goes.

Hide drops his face into his palms and tries desperately not to scream.

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[somewhereelsenow00]

bateleur

Day 5:  ヒ�� Hide

Summary: The Night Circus is an enigma that none have been able to understand. It appears, entertains, then vanishes, and all who have witnessed what lies within have never come out the same. Hide is but one of its various centerpieces, playing the role of a charismatic magician. He soon comes to realize that some roles come with a steep price to pay.

Notes: This work is Hide-centric, and will be featuring multiple pairings with Hide, namely TouHide, HideKane, and TsukiHide. Give him all the love this week <3

Leave kudos/comments on the AO3 ver.! (link is on my bio)

Chapter 5 of 7: escape

“I would have written you, myself, if I could put down in words everything I want to say to you. A sea of ink would not be enough.”

“But you built me dreams instead. And I built you tents you hardly ever see. I have had so much of you around me always and I have been unable to give you anything that you can keep.”

It takes over a day to prepare for the trip northbound and Hide is still unsure of whether or not his calculations are precise enough. He usually takes weeks of review before letting his magic seep into the formulae, the scribbles, and the models that he creates. And even then it takes a massive amount of concentration to maintain their functionality. Before, it might have counted as a single point against him in the larger scale of the duel, but now the stakes are higher and one minuscule oversight can cost him the entirety of the circus and all of the lives within.

Everything hinges on a thick ream of paper that he has spent an entire day and night writing on every single sheet. It is this that he entrusts to Marude before leaving.

Marude tries to stop him. Of course he does. It is the riskiest, and possibly the worst move to play. Two lives against the circus, which is, in and of itself, a core of magic strong enough to wreak havoc across continents. It is ludicrous, Marude says to him. And if Hide will just stop to think he might be able to see just how dangerous and idiotic his decision to leave is.

“I can’t leave them to die, Father,” Hide says, his voice fracturing ever so slightly under the weight of the choice he has made. “I’ve hurt and lied and betrayed them far enough.”

“But to risk the world for it?” Marude is angry, but most of his anger has passed by now and all that is left is the wild desperation to understand why his son is risking it all for lovers he can easily replace. “To risk everything we stand for, and die doing it? Hide, if you wanted to take a wife or a husband or even a mistress, I could send for dozens of suitors. Those two… They are not the only ones who long for your attentions.”

Hide breathes, slowly, and chooses his next words with care. “Father,” he says, “I know that this is not only about the circus and me. You’ve made decisions you regret too. And I know that not a day goes by that you don’t think of Uncle Chika. Losing him, you lost a part of yourself, and you know that you could have lost the circus that way. And now you are afraid I’ll make the same mistake.”

Marude says nothing, only searches in Hide’s eyes for an answer that he might never find.

“I have to go,” Hide continues. “I have to, because it’s only right. It’s the only decision that I won’t regret.”

A pause, half a dozen heartbeats, and a long drawn-out breath. Then Marude sighs. “Alright. You can go.” He stumbles back a step when Hide pounces on him for a hug.

“Thank you,” Hide says. He releases Marude and beams. “Put your trust in me and I’ll return, whole and well.”

“Go,” Marude says quietly, a faint sorrow in his eyes. “And be careful.”

“I will.” And with that, Hide takes his leave, placing the circus in Marude’s hands for the time being.

He takes the train north up to five platforms before getting off. He brings no luggage and has been wearing the same clothes for the past two days. His exhaustion makes his steps sluggish, but he draws upon anger and worry to fuel his drive. As the train pulls away behind him, he pulls his coat tighter around himself. The sharp wind chill is still something he is not used to, even after all these years. For a few seconds, as the breeze picks up suddenly, he regrets not pulling on an extra layer.

He enters a town with more field than house, and pauses to buy three loaves of bread at a tiny inn. He tears into them so quickly that the innkeeper’s wife pulls her husband aside and asks him if this half-starved boy paid for his bread. After his makeshift meal, he leaves the inn and hurries behind it before pulling out his lucky coin. The king smiles with a conspiratorial eyebrow waggle.

He hopes the bread will provide him with enough energy to survive the journey he has planned. Then, closing his eyes, he wills his body forward in space.

The world folds in on itself around him, as easily as paper. He is the last to go, and the sensation of his entire body and self flattening is never a pleasant one. His body folds like the rest  of the world did before him. It is impossible to breathe—his lungs are paper thin, and so are the rest of his limbs. He endures, holding his breath for an absurd amount of time.

Then everything unfolds. First his arms, then his legs, his body. Trees surround him on all sides, grass pokes into his trousers and tickle his ankles, and then the world is back, as if it had never vanished. Hide sucks in a breath, then two. There is a weakness in his legs, but it is not unfamiliar. He crouches, then sits for a while on the forest floor to catch his breath and regain his strength before attempting another jump.

This time he lands on his stomach, gasping for air. He flops onto his back and breathes. He throws an arm over his eyes and tries not to vomit. He fights the exhaustion and nausea, staggers onto his feet. Using a nearby wall for balance, he walks out of a narrow alleyway onto a dim, lamplit street. With trembling hands he reaches into his pocket for an extra load of bread he brought from home. He forces it down, and clamps his lips shut with his fingers to keep from throwing it back up.

He swallows the last of it, and exhales, half-relieved. The street is, fortunately, devoid of life. He makes his way through it, surrounded by that familiar scent of brine, except this is much colder and harsher than that of his home island.

Local gossip with a few men at a pub tell him all he needs to know: that he is at the right place, at the right time. The garrison he must find lies on a rocky outcropping extending beyond the sandy shoals that border the town on its west side. The pirate’s execution is scheduled for dawn the next day. But didn’t they hear, one of the men adds, there’d been a break-in and a woman had been caught and tried for being the pirate’s accomplice. She’s probably his personal whore, they all agree, much to Hide’s concealed chagrin.

He makes for the garrison.

From a hundred feet away, he can already see the patrols at the gate. He wonders, for a moment, what to do. Then in a brief stroke of genius, he runs his hands over his long overcoat, and watches its threads alter in shape and color. He pulls the new hood over his head and walks as confidently as he can, right up to the gates. His heart pounds in his ears as the guards regard him.

“State your business, Father,” says the guard on the left.

“I’ve come to offer the sacrament of reconciliation to the souls on death row,” Hide says calmly.

“That’s rather unusual. Confessions are normally given right before execution.”

He swallows. “The parish priest wished me to come earlier. For the poor woman’s sake.”

The guards exchange glances, for a heart-stopping moment they seem as if they are going to turn him in, but instead they unlock the gates and step aside for him to enter. He lets out a sigh of relief when the gates close behind him.

He continues down the hallway, which stops at a pair of staircases which go both up and down. He chooses the flight that descends. Another guard stands at the foot of the steps, but this one only nods at him respectfully. He moves on, worrying all the while if he is walking too fast or too slow. Then, finally, he reaches the dungeons. Another sigh escapes him.

A long line of barred doors extends before him.

“Father,” moans one of the prisoners, “Father, help me. Tell them I am innocent of my crimes.”

“Early for an emissary of death now, aren’t ye,” spits another.

“All of you shut up, I’m trying to sleep before I die tomorrow.”

Hide freezes.

“Yes, milady,” says a prisoner in mock deference.

He tries not to let his happiness and relief show when he goes to her cell.

Then Touka is there, lying amongst a scant pile of hay on the moldy stone floor. Her dress is torn and her hands and feet are wounded. She sits up when she sees him at her door. Ken appears at the door beside her. They both gape at him in disbelief as he reaches for their faces and whispers, “Thank God. Thank God, you’re both alright.”

And when they look at each other, they simply have to smile.

“Hide,” Ken says softly. “I didn’t think… I didn’t expect… you would come.”

Touka grins and even her bruised smiling face is so beautiful Hide wants to kiss it. “I told you he would,” she says, her eyes on Hide’s and filled with loving pride. “He’s an idiot like that. Which is why you and I love him.”

Both Hide and Ken blush and stutter, but Touka is the one who gets them back on track.

“We can talk more about this later,” she says. “We need to escape first.” She pauses. “And Kaneki, I don’t want you starting any more ruckus about how you ‘deserve’ this punishment. If you don’t come with us, I’ll personally drag you back.”

Ken sighs. “Yes, ma’am.”

Hide chuckles. “You’ve gotten used to her already?”

“It’s hard not to, when you’ve been stuck in the same cell for half a week.”

Touka elbows him and says, “Alright. What’s the plan?”

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