#probably two more abi chapters then back to shuten?

[badpoetakayonascribbling]

Abi

Apologies in advance for where this part ends.

IV.

The next day, Abi attends the coronation ceremony for King Hiryuu, the dragon god-king from heaven.

He watches in silence as his father approaches the young king in his turn, kneels, presses his forehead into the floorboards at Hiryuu’s feet, and swears fealty. Abi does not have to swear in his turn—I and my heirs, says the lord Eun-bi, and that is enough—and so he is left feeling like just another ornamental trapping of his father’s retinue, no more important than the offering of incense and jade dragon statues that his father has brought to the court, and indeed significantly less interesting. At least those gifts draw exclamations of delight and murmurs of approbation from the other noblemen and their families; Abi draws some little interest from those who see him and his colors and realize that he must be Lord Eun-bi’s son, but mostly he is just another face in a sea of faces, a doll wrapped in endless layers of blue and white silk beside his radiantly beautiful mother. He stands like a jade statue himself, shoulders back, chin lifted, face both placid and haughty, a perfect mirror—he knows, from long practice—of Lady Li-he’s. Impress him, she had commanded, but Abi is not given any chance to make an impression upon his new king at all. He sees Hiryuu only from a distance, looking slightly overwhelmed by all the ceremony, and very different with his fine clothes and clean face and the enormous, newly fashioned crown rising in golden splendor from his brow. His hair looks different too: now that it is washed and combed it is both wilder and brighter than Abi’s memory of it, a riotous red-burning crown of its own. He looks younger than Abi had expected him to, because while in his memory Hiryuu was a simply a man, Abi is grown old enough now to realize the god-king is actually a very young man, significantly younger than Tuen. All of the lords swearing fealty are obviously older than him, and most, like Lord Eun-bi, are significantly so. Hiryuu stands patiently before his new throne, greeting each lord with a quiet, unassuming authority and accepting their oaths with a king’s gravity that makes him seem much older than he looks. But when he smiles—and he smiles often—his face is transformed, bright with a boy’s uncomplicated joy. Abi envies him that joy, and that smile. Abi has never smiled like that in his entire life.

Beside Hiryuu, Abi recognizes the man Guen, still clad mainly in the old furs and jerkin Abi remembers but with the addition of a thick metal plate shoulder-guard and a well-worked sword slung at his left hip. He looks more like a soldier than a peasant, now, and the wear of the last two years’ work is graven much deeper upon his face than upon Hiryuu’s. But he, too, is grinning as Hiryuu gently accepts the fealty of all the lords, one by one.

Tuen stands at Hiryuu’s left, among the rest of his captains. Towards the end of the ceremony, he catches Abi’s eye and offers a small smile and wave, but Abi can feel his mother’s eyes upon him and does not wave back. He stares back as icily as he knows how, expression perfectly smooth. It is hard, even now, not to love his eldest brother—not to want to be him, as Abi did when he was a small child, stupid and filled with hero-worship. But he no longer wants to be Tuen, Abi reminds himself. He wants to be better than Tuen. If he were his eldest brother, he would not stand content among the other captains and allow Guen to take the place of honor at the king’s side alone. Tuen could so easily reach out and take everything Abi has spent all his life fighting for—their father’s love and heirship, the affection of the god-king, the power both would afford him—and yet how content he is, the way things are; how little he hungers for more. Abi has known nothing but hunger as long as he can remember.

Hiryuu never notices him. There is no miraculous moment of recognition; his king does not see him in the crowd and smile one of those smiles for him. Instead, Abi stands stiffly at his mother’s side for hours, sweating from the heat of the crowd and the stifling layers of thickly embroidered silks he wears, and at last the final oath is sworn and abruptly, it is all over. The king retreats to his private quarters to change out of the ornamental robes and crown into something more practical for the celebration to come, and the crowd disperses to do the same. Abi follows his mother to their rooms to be changed himself, his bright silks and thickly embroidered robe carefully folded between paper by his servants, and simpler, lighter robes brought in exchange. The lady Li-he is in a towering temper, and berates him cruelly as she vents her frustration.

“My heirs, your father said,” she spits, “in front of the King and all his court. He did not even present you.“

He stands mutely while she scolds, and even when she has exhausted her anger and disappeared behind her screen to have her own gown changed for a lighter one, he does not move, paralyzed by his shame and disappointment and his own anger, too, rising up to smother him, shaking in his tightly clenched fingers. When the servant tying the sash at his waist fumbles on the knot, it is like something Abi has felt breaking for a long time finally snaps. He strikes the man, hard, across the face. The other servants freeze as the man staggers back a step, and Abi sees the fright in the man’s dark eyes and hates that it makes him feel both better and worse, all at once.

“Leave me,” he hisses. “All of you. Now.”

They flee.

Abi reties his sash himself with his shaking hands, and then sits down on his low bed in his empty room to wait for his mother.

After nine days of feasting the celebration is finally over and Abi and lady Li-he are sent home in their carriage ahead of Lord Eun-bi, who remains in Hiryuu’s court. Abi, for whom the last nine days were nothing but torture as he struggled to ingratiate himself in the eyes of everyone he met during the festivities while simultaneously enduring his mother’s sharp criticisms whenever they were alone, spends the journey almost desperate with his need to be home again—back in the familiar halls of his father’s house, where it was so much easier for him to avoid his mother, and where he can devote himself again to his studies and his swordplay and hopefully drive all thoughts of Hiryuu from his head. His mother is right; he had his chance, and he failed–long before ever the king was crowned, he failed. Two years are enough time to devote to a boyish infatuation, he tells himself sternly; he has let himself be distracted for too long. It is his father’s love he should have secured first, before even thinking about Hiryuu. If he had been made his father’s heir officially before the king’s coronation, then he would surely have been at his father’s side to swear his allegiance, instead of only standing in the crowd with his mother, his father’s favorite possession instead of his favorite son. He cannot make the same mistake again, he vows. He will devote himself wholly to being named his father’s heir, and then his father will surely take him back to Hiryuu’s castle to meet the king in person, and then he can impress him all he likes.

His new resolve cheers him, and when he finally arrives at his father’s house he goes not to his private rooms but to his favorite garden, where the old plane tree still stands even if Abi is too old now to climb it, and where Lady Hana still spends most of her time, although she and her bottle are not here today. Abi sits under the plane tree in the quiet, wraps his arms around his knees, closes his eyes, and feels like he can breathe again for the first time in weeks.

Two days later, he dies.

[ehyde]

What We Make (8/8)

Words: 2008 (this chapter) Characters: Yon-hi, Hiryuu, Shuten, Abi, Guen, Zeno, Ju-nam, Il, Yuhon, original characters Pairing: Yon-hi/Hiryuu Rating: in the end, it only increased to PG-13 with a fade-to-black Warnings: Some might consider it age-difference shipping on account of time travel weirdness. Both characters are adults when any romance occurs. Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, ao3 link  

For Yon-hi, a young priest in training, the discovery that Hiryuu Castle contains gateways to the past leads to new friends, startling revelations, and eventually, something more.

Chapter 8: Five

She’s not going back. Not after that. But Yon-hi finds herself in Hiryuu’s mausoleum often, drawn to the memory of what she knows can never be. The palace staff and all the court leave her alone here, so although the gods give her no more peace than anywhere else in the palace, at least there is no one who will accidentally hear their words. It may be strange to mourn a man two thousand years dead, but she does, bringing flowers to lay on the cold stone. He was dead before she ever met him, and she never mourned, and she knows this is for her, not him.

One day she stumbles, and the flowers she carries fall behind the great stone sarcophagus, white petals fluttering down into darkness. She bends down to pick them up and as she does, notices the stark difference. Centuries of dust have piled up, and the stone, never polished or cleaned, is worn and pitted. Of course. Only the public image has been cared for. She begins to brush dust and cobwebs away with her bare hands, not caring that the fine silk gown she wears will be ruined. This is it, she thinks as her fingers run along the old stone. This has always been the truth, this is—wait.

There shouldn’t be a seam in the stone here.

She traces the edges, brushes dust out of the cracks. Her scattered flowers lay forgotten on the floor. The sarcophagus is made from solid, thick slabs, and this piece is barely bigger than the span of her hand. There’s no reason for it to be separate, unless—

The small stone panel is wedged tight, but Yon-hi manages to pry it free with help from a pin from her hair, revealing a small open space carved in the great stone slab. A secret compartment. Her fingers search in the darkness until they find a metal box and slowly, she pulls it forward. The etched writing on the lid is half-gone, but she traces the neatly-illegible letters. Yon—

She gasps.

Gently, Yon-hi carries the box back into the dim light. Carefully pries the lid open, and gasps again. It’s full of papers. Letters. She reaches to unroll one and her heart sinks. Though she’s careful, oh so careful, the paper flakes apart at her touch, and any ink has long since faded into nothingness. The years have silenced all of Hiryuu’s words.

There is one more item besides the scrolls. A smaller wooden box, much better preserved than the paper. She opens it and almost laughs. Many times Hiryuu had regretted he could not give her gifts. He’d finally found a way, and the gift he chose—Yon-hi had always worn her hair loose and straight, often held back from her face with simply a spare brush or pen. How many times had Hiryuu playfully replaced that brush with a freshly plucked flower? This hairpin, its enameled flowers more finely made than anything of this era, its elegance untouched by the centuries, brings those memories back as fresh as the spring flowers themselves. But perhaps he recognized the impracticality of such a gift for a priestess, for nestled in the corner of the little wooden box is a far less ostentatious—but equally fine—golden cuff. Frivolous things, both—she looks with regret at the lost letters—but they have waited for two thousand years to deliver his final goodbye.

You can see him again! Abi’s words echo in her mind once more. Had his farewell survived the centuries—or had she never found it at all—she would not need to, but now—

Yon-hi places the box back in its secret hiding place and stands up. Walks deliberately past the place she knows the portal rests. Not this one. If she’s going to do this—and it really will be the last time—she’s going to do it right.

Yon-hi steps into a crisp autumn day, bright red and orange maple leaves twirling to the ground on either side of the walkway, and though it’s going to be goodbye, it feels like coming home. If she could stay—if she could stay, and never vanish back into the future—maybe it would be.

She takes her time, savors the feel of the place. The king and his dragons aren’t in the gardens, nor the library, nor that parlor where she first met them so long ago, but walking through the familiar halls without the gods echoing in her mind is pleasant. Calm. Finally, she steps back outside, heading toward the training ground.

“Coming through!.” A man brushes past her and Yon-hi, lost in thought, almost doesn’t look up.

“Shuten!” He spins back to face her. “Shuten, it's—”

“Yon-hi? You're dressed like a lady!” His spear clatters to the ground as he claps an arm around her shoulder, and she almost smiles. “I knew you'd come back! Couldn't stay away, heh?”

“This is the last time.”

Shuten pauses. “It's been a while.”

Yon-hi would guess he's in his late twenties. Younger than her, but older than when she said goodbye. “How long?”

“Well, you showed up a few months ago, but you were just a kid then. Two years.” A pause. “Longer for you, I guess.” Which is probably the most tactful Shuten's ever been. “But, Yon-hi,” Shuten goes on. “The king’s not here.”

No. Her face falls in dismay, and she immediately starts bargaining with herself. She said it would be the last time, but if she can’t see him, surely it doesn’t count—

“He rode out to the north with Abi,” says Shuten. “They should be back by nightfall.”

A glance at the sky tells her it's afternoon. “I'll still be here,” she says, to herself as much as to him. There were times when she had stayed for days. She’ll still be here.

“Yeah, you damn well better not make me the one who has to tell him he missed you!” He bends down to pick up his spear. “I gotta put this away, but I can wait with you, or—”

Yon-hi looks up at the sky again. There isn’t a cloud in sight. Back home, it was cold and gloomy. “Shuten, take me flying,” she says.

“Didn’t—didn’t we say that’d be too dangerous?” Shuten had always scoffed at the idea of danger before, and maybe he was right, maybe there was nothing to it. Though she always returned to the present in what seemed to be the same location as the past, she’d never found herself sharing space with walls or furniture, for all that the castle had been rebuilt. Maybe appearing in the sky had never been a danger.

But she doesn’t make those arguments to Shuten. She just lets out a long sigh, shakes her head, and says “I find I don’t really care.”

Shuten gives her a long stare. Maybe he finally takes in her unkempt hair, or the fact that her gown, fine as it is, is covered in dust and cobwebs. “Yeah, alright,” he says finally, resting his spear against a wall, then lifting her into his arms. “You’re a little bigger than the girls I like to hold, you know.”

“Surely you’ve carried Guen before…”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” And then he jumps, touching down only for an instant on the castle roof before soaring into the sky. He doesn’t take her anywhere in particular, but the open sky before her, the thrill of falling only to rise again, is exactly the escape she wanted.

After what must be more than an hour, as the shadows below them deepen and the wind in her face grows colder, Shuten returns to the top of the castle. Yon-hi's hair has long since fallen free of its pins, and the wind atop the tower sends it streaming out behind her as they stand side by side, looking out to the north. Shuten must have sensed Abi’s approach, for soon, two figures on horseback appear. They're cloaked, and moving at only a walk, but one leans over to the other and speaks, pointing up in her direction. Then Hiryuu spurs his horse forward, his hood hood falling back and his red hair blazing behind him like a banner as he races back to the castle. Races back to her.

She dines with Hiryuu and all four of his dragons that evening, but after, goes with Hiryuu alone. They stand together on the balcony outside his chamber, holding hands beneath the chill of the empty night sky. “Seven years,” Hiryuu says. “Your exile?”

“Was peaceful. Until it wasn’t.” Hiryuu doesn’t need to know the details of the high priest’s planned coup, but what she did to stop him— “I waited too long. I could have gone to the prince sooner, before Priest So-yun’s treason spread so deep. In the end—your temple lasted two thousand years. Until I came along. I’m sorry, Hiryuu.”

“Don’t be. A priesthood that serves neither the people nor the gods serves no purpose. I meant what I said.” Yon-hi breathes in sharply. Hiryuu’s words to her back then were spoken in the heat of passion, but he’s calm now, calm and deadly sincere. “I could—it’s too far ahead, but that history isn't written. If I knew what to change—” He looks up at the silent stars.

Yon-hi shakes her head. “A kingdom on constant guard against treachery wouldn’t be your Kouka. Besides,” she says. “Would I, in that future, ever meet you at all?” Hiryuu looks back at her, raising a hand to comb back Yon-hi’s hair—no flowers or hairpins this time, just the touch of his fingertips on her cheek. Yon-hi pushes his hand away. “The gods wanted it,” she says. “They never spoke a word to guide the kingdom while the temple stood, but now—did they only ever want blind worship?” But it’s more than that. Something changed, or something will change, there is a reason why the gods wish, now, for the temple to hold such power, a prophecy Yon-hi could reach if she tried. A prophecy she does not care to touch. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “But had I known that before, my choice would be the same. I came to see you again,” she says, “but you need to know that I have turned against the gods, truly.”

She waits for his reaction. The one she expects doesn’t come. Instead, he takes both of her shoulders, pulling her back to face him. “Yon-hi,” he says. “I made that choice long ago. Have you forgotten I am human?”

“I—” Yon-hi is abruptly aware of just how human Hiryuu is as she gazes into his violet eyes and the memories wash over her. She kisses him then, and for a moment, it’s as if no time has passed at all. Only a moment, because the truth is better: that after everything, they both still feel the same. He draws her back from the balcony, leading her inside, all the while holding her close. His hands play through her hair again and this time she lets them, lets them trace down the curve of her back and catch at her gown, and she finds that her hands, too, have strayed, working their way under the layers of his robes to feel the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest.

“Yon-hi, I—”

She steps back, shrugging off the outer layer of her gown. “I missed you,” she says. “I missed everything about you. Hiryuu—”

“This was supposed to be goodbye,” she says, later, her head resting on his chest.

“...mm.” He knew. Yon-hi supposes it was obvious. “You have your own life, a new one. I want you to live it.” She hasn’t even told him she is married, the piece of her new life she understands the least. She owes him that—but not now. In the morning, if she is still here—

“It doesn’t have to be,” she says instead. “I could come back.”

“You could. I hope, someday...”

She falls asleep at his side, knowing not which dawn will greet her.

[ehyde]

What We Make (5/8)

Words: 1057 (this chapter) Characters: Yon-hi, Hiryuu, Shuten, Abi, Guen, Zeno, original characters Pairing: eventual Yon-hi/Hiryuu Rating: PG, might eventually be higher Warnings: Some might consider it age-difference shipping on account of time travel weirdness. Both characters are adults when any romance occurs. Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, ao3 link  

For Yon-hi, a young priest in training, the discovery that Hiryuu Castle contains gateways to the past leads to new friends, startling revelations, and eventually, something more.

Chapter 5: Six

From that point on, Yon-hi knows what she needs to do. She’ll work hard to understand the king, yes, but also to understand the temple and the priesthood. When she's in a position to advise the king herself, she wants to do what's best for Kouka. She won't be used by anyone.

Not even the gods? The thought takes root at the back of her mind slowly, and it began, strangely enough, with Hiryuu. Why was he so shocked at the idea of the gods shaping Kouka’s fate? Yon-hi could go back, could ask him, but as before, she keeps putting off returning to the past. She wants to grow stronger without relying on others, right? And the gods don’t ask much of Yon-hi. Occasionally, she’s compelled to pray for certain people, but that doesn’t bother her so much. Once, walking down the castle halls, she passes by a nobleman with his young daughter, a girl who can’t be more than six or seven, and stops in her tracks, frozen in shock. “T-the heavens have blessed you, my lady!” she manages to stutter before collapsing, and she has no idea why. Moments like that, she doesn’t like at all, but they are few and far between.

It’s not until she’s seventeen that Yon-hi steps into the past again. It's the last day of her apprenticeship—tomorrow, she will be a full priestess. But that means it’s her last day in the castle, too. Of course she intends to return, and of course she will return—Hiryuu’s words to her when she was twelve all but guarantee it. This won’t be goodbye.

The castle of the past is packed full of people. “Hey! Hey, that young man appeared out of thin air!” A startled shout greets Yon-hi’s arrival.

“This is the home of a dragon god, Arjun, what do you expect? But in this case, I think you're just drunk.” The couple both laugh and continue on their way. Yon-hi doesn't mind the “young man” too much. With her height, figure, and loose-fitting priest’s robes, it's become a common occurrence. The layout of the castle is different—it’s probably been completely rebuilt by her time—but the sounds of laughter and celebration quickly lead her to the great hall. Despite the crowd, her friends are easy to spot—all she has to do to find Shuten is look up. He’s sitting on one of the great wooden beams crisscrossing the hall, a young woman at one side, a young man at the other. They’re all laughing and passing a bottle back and forth. Clearly, this party has already been going on for a while. Guen, too, is easy to find, with his height and his bright white hair. He has women at his side, too—and seems to be trying to evade them.

“Guen!” Yon-hi calls across the crowd.

He turns to look at her and his eyes widen. “Miss Yon-hi!” he exclaims, pushing through the crowd to meet her. “What a night for you to show up!”

“What’s the occasion?”

“It’s the king’s wedding feast!” He takes her by the hand and leads her through the crowd, then pours her a glass of wine. “Will you be alright here tonight?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I mean...wait. Forget I said anything.”

“This is really exciting! I haven’t met his queen yet. Will I? Oh, and I must have missed the ceremony…”

“You really...yeah. It was a great ceremony, too. Lady—I mean, Queen Hana’s gown caught fire! Which is supposed to be bad luck, but you know, if you’re marrying a fire god, maybe it’s good instead…”

“Caught...fire?” Yon-hi shakes her head. “I think you must do weddings a little bit differently in this era.” She looks around again, searching for that bright red hair. “Is His Majesty still here? I want to congratulate him.”

“I’ll take you to him,” says Guen, after a pause.

As Guen approaches the happy couple, it’s the new queen who first turns to look at Yon-hi. She’s everything Yon-hi would have expected of the wife of a legend: sleek black hair in an elaborate, decorated updo, her face all the more beautiful for its stern features. The hem of her gown is, indeed, singed, but she wears it proudly, and Yon-hi, still wearing her temple robes with her pale hair hanging loose and unstyled, suddenly feels underdressed. Then Hiryuu turns to face her. “Yon-hi,” he breathes as he looks up at her. “You’re so young.”

Wait. Looks up?

“Yon-hi, what’s wrong?”

“You—you never told me I was going to be taller than you!”

Hiryuu laughs. “So you’re the woman from the future,” says his queen.

He told his wife about me? “Yes, Your Highness. I'm Yon-hi, and I was—that is, I will be born two thousand years from now.”

“I suppose I gave up any hope of a normal life when I accepted betrothal gifts delivered by dragons,” the queen says, shaking her head. “To finally meet you, tonight of all nights...”

“I’ve never been able to choose when to come, Your Highness,” Yon-hi tries to explain. “If I could, I wouldn't have missed the ceremony. But congratulations! Please, I wish the bride and groom a long and happy life, and may the heavens bless you with many children!” They'll only have one, and, Yon-hi guesses, not for many years, but the standard wedding greeting is all that comes to mind.

The queen takes a sharp breath. “You haven’t yet—” She pauses. “And you, too,” she says. “I wish you all the happiness you may find.”

Later, Hiryuu returns to her alone, unsteady after a few more drinks. “Yon-hi, there was a child who looked just like you,” he says.

“...when you were hurt?” It wouldn't be surprising if the king didn't remember that time so well.

“No. A boy, from your era. He looked just like you,” the king repeats, a question in his voice.

“I don't have any brothers…”

“I'm sorry. I know I can't ask you this. You haven't—” Then Zeno, much steadier on his feet, comes to Hiryuu's side. Nodding an apology towards Yon-hi, he leads the king away.

Yon-hi finds herself shaking. What was Hiryuu trying to ask? And Queen Hana, she had spoken as if—

As if to her husband’s former lover.

Just what does Hiryuu—and history—expect of her?

[ehyde]

What We Make (6/8)

Words: 2936 (this chapter) Characters: Yon-hi, Hiryuu, Shuten, Abi, Guen, Zeno, Ju-nam, Il, original characters Pairing: Yon-hi/Hiryuu Rating: PG, might eventually be higher Warnings: Some might consider it age-difference shipping on account of time travel weirdness. Both characters are adults when any romance occurs. Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ao3 link  

For Yon-hi, a young priest in training, the discovery that Hiryuu Castle contains gateways to the past leads to new friends, startling revelations, and eventually, something more.

Chapter 6: Three

When Yon-hi is twenty-three, she returns to the palace. Her old master has been promoted, the youngest high priest in recent history, and Yon-hi is to take over his position as adviser to the king. It’s what she’s always wanted. “You’re the girl who used to come here with that sly fox So-yun, aren’t you?” King Ju-nam asks her on her first day. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” Yon-hi had shot up to her full height in the last year of her apprenticeship, and doesn’t think she’s changed much since then, but she nods anyway. As with So-yun, the king never asks her advice except when custom demands it, but one day, Yon-hi decides to take a risk. “Will the heavens bless this campaign?” the king asks at the conclusion of a Five Tribes meeting. The generals have just finished planning an invasion of Xing.

“They will bless it,” says Yon-hi, because they haven’t told her otherwise. “But if I may humbly offer my own opinion, Your Majesty—”

It’s not long before the king comes to seek out her input. “I will always make sure you know when I act as the voice of the heavens, and when my words are merely my own,” Yon-hi tells him.

“Yes, of course.” King Ju-nam understands perfectly. Yon-hi realized long ago that he doesn’t believe the gods. To him, all prophecies are directives from the temple—and as far as it concerns him, he’s nearly always right. The gods are silent on matters of state, though at times they enter her mind with inexplicable, seemingly inconsequential whispers. Yon-hi passes these on as well, which does nothing to improve the temple’s standing in the king’s mind. But the gods only ask that Yon-hi deliver their words, not that she understand them, and Yon-hi has no desire to fight for things they have not bothered to explain. “However did you become a priest?” Ju-nam asks her one day.

“The gods spoke to me at night and would not let me sleep until my parents apprenticed me to the temple.”

“They were poor, then,” the king concludes. “It’s a pity. If you were mine, I’d want to make you a general.”

“Has His Majesty forgotten that I am a woman as well as a priest?” She means those words in jest, but it seems there is truth to them: the next time they meet, he awkwardly asks her if she has any prospects, or friends, and tells her that she is welcome to ask any of the court ladies to accompany her into town anytime she wishes. Yon-hi has to fight to keep from laughing.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she says. “But I fear we would have little common ground for conversation.”

But his comment about friends weighs on her. It’s not that she has none—over the past six years, she’s become friendly with many of the people she works with, both in the temple and the palace. It’s that the first people she thought of, when he asked, were King Hiryuu and his dragons.

Is she so fascinated by the idea of being friends with legends that she values them, who she hasn’t seen in years, over those she knows and sees every day? Or is it because Hiryuu seemed to remember a friendship—or something beyond that—that hasn’t happened yet? Had history itself made her actions, her choices, inevitable?

She’s been back at the palace for months with barely a thought of visiting the past. If she chose, she could never go back again, she’s sure of it. But if the cost of proving she can control her own destiny is losing that friendship, what will she have won?

She returns. And Hiryuu smiles at her, and isn’t surprised at all, and, taking her hand, says “Yon-hi, this time I thought we could—”

“This time?” Yon-hi asks, fearing the answer. “When was the last time you saw me?”

“Last week,” says Hiryuu. “And you?”

“Six years ago.”

“Oh! Then, welcome back!”

“And now I know that I'll be back again soon. Your Majesty, do I have any choice in the matter?”

The legendary king drops her hand. “Don’t you want to be here?” he asks.

“No, it’s—it’s not that.” She tries to explain herself. How hearing him say what she’s already done feels more binding than if the gods themselves had decreed her fate. And then Hiryuu laughs. “What?”

“You have to admit, coming from you…”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the one from two thousand years in the future. You told me that Kouka Kingdom still exists in that time, that people remember my name and what I built. You even told me they named the castle after me! It’s a lot to live up to.”

Yon-hi can only gape at him. She hadn’t even considered that Hiryuu would ever question his place in history. “I suppose it would be silly to think that knowing any of that meant you didn’t have to work for it,” she admits.

“I remember the first time you came here,” says Hiryuu. “I don’t know if you do. You were the one who insisted that we were going to become friends, because you were from the future and you already knew it would happen. You took that knowledge of the future and made it serve you.” He pauses. “Yon-hi, did something change? When you were younger, someone was trying to use you...are you all right?”

“I am,” Yon-hi assures him. Then, “I fought against it. I suppose I got used to fighting against it.”

“A worthy battle.”

“It would have been a hollow victory this time. I’m glad I came.”

“And I hope you return. History isn’t fate. You’re not bound to anything just because I happen to remember it.”

But Yon-hi has already decided she’ll come back. Not to—to seduce him, or anything. She’d let her mind run wild the night of the king's wedding, her imagination drawn away by the romantic atmosphere. Hiryuu right now—his gentle face and his soft voice, they don’t produce any of those feelings. But she wants to keep talking to him. “I'll come back,” she says. “And then I'll decide again, each time. Now, there was something you had in mind for today.”

Hiryuu's eyes brighten. “Oh! I had thought to take you into town to visit the artisan’s market, but if it's your first time back in years, you probably want to see the dragons too...oh, but Abi and Shuten are away today, and Guen is training his troops...Zeno might already be in town…”

Yon-hi smiles. “Well then, the market it is.”

The town at the foot of the castle is barely a village, and certainly not a city called Kuuto. But the market is thriving. “Guen will scold me for coming here without a guard,” Hiryuu says, but the people all greet him with familiar smiles.

Hiryuu buys her sweet dumplings—Yon-hi has a purse of her own, but the currency is wrong—and as they wander through the market stalls, she pauses in front of a woodcarver’s shop. “After you taught him to play, Guen had a set made,” said Hiryuu, noting what caught Yon-hi's eye. A shougi set in the classical style, figures rather than tiles, handsomely made. “It's becoming a popular game!”

“I—I never told him what the pieces were supposed to look like.”

“No,” Hiryuu agrees.

“Then—” It’s a popular game only because she taught him. It might only exist because she taught him. But—shougi has existed for centuries, been nearly synonymous with strategy, perhaps even shaped the course of wars through its strategy—because of her? And that would mean that the only reason she knew how to play, as a child, was because she’d already taught—

Well, Yon-hi supposes, it makes as much sense as any other aspect of traveling through time. Hiryuu reaches for her hand, and Yon-hi smiles. It seems she has some power over history after all.

It's her third visit that catches Hiryuu by surprise. “You've grown!” he says, once she re-introduces herself. “I think you're as tall as Shuten.”

“Still, he'll always have the high ground,” she quips, and Hiryuu smiles. “You don't mind?” she asks, suddenly anxious. “That I'm taller than you?” Why did she ask that? She already knows he doesn't care, knows he's one of the very few men who isn't put off by her height.

“Well, I've never been particularly tall for a human…”

“And for a dragon?” She doesn’t mean the question seriously, just teasing him for his phrasing, but Hiryuu pauses.

“Not then, either,” he says, then, “I almost couldn’t remember.”

“...oh.” She shakes her head. “It’s not important,” she says, ready to leave the subject. “Men avoid tall women. At least, they do in my era.” Some standards of beauty have changed. Maybe this is one of them.

Hiryuu shrugs. “I don’t really understand that sort of thing…”

It seems it’s been two years since he last saw her as a girl of fourteen—and Yon-hi abruptly realizes that this Hiryuu, here and now, doesn’t know any more about her that she does herself. He’s seen far less of her than she has of him. “You weren’t barred from the palace,” he says.

“What?” It takes a moment for Yon-hi to remember what Hiryuu is talking about. “Oh, no. You were right. That would have been a poor battle to choose.” Not only does she now have So-yun’s old position, she also has what he always wanted: the ear of the king. And she got there not by manipulation—well, not too much—but by hard work. If So-yun ever realizes this...well, that battle may yet await her. At present, Yon-hi is exactly where she wants to be.

After these, their mutual first meetings, Yon-hi visits as often as she can. Sometimes she sees the four dragons, sometimes not. Sometimes none of them are there, and Yon-hi gets to know the castle staff. The more she passes through the portal—always the same one, never the one in his tomb; that one only ever led to sadness—the more she learns its feel. It fluctuates through time, but if she’s careful, nearly all her visits pass in chronological order. It’s better, she thinks, when they can both begin right where they left off.

One day, Yon-hi reappears in the present to find someone staring straight at her. A chubby teenager with messy hair, the second prince hasn’t yet grown into the stature of his father and brother, and possibly never will. But his sharp gaze, Yon-hi knows, won’t be fooled. “Priestess,” the prince begins. “What—?”

“Didn’t you see me walk in here?” she tries. “Your head was in the clouds again.”

“Priestess,” says the prince. “Don’t insult me. We both know what I saw.”

She’s scrambling for a better excuse when the gods invade her mind again. He needs to see, they insist, even though they never wanted her to go, and she knows she won’t find any relief until she obeys. “Then, Highness,” Yon-hi says, trembling slightly, “the best explanation is to show you. Please follow me.” When they reach the portal, Yon-hi stops. “Highness, this may seem unbelievable, but please don’t question it. Now, please take my hand.” Then she steps through.

“This—this isn’t Hiryuu Castle.”

“It is, Highness,” Yon-hi assures him. “Two thousand years ago.”

“Two thous…” The prince looks around in confusion, then curiosity, only following Yon-hi when she gives him a sharp nod.

Hiryuu isn’t where she left him—the timing isn’t right—but he’s not hard to find. “Oh, Yon-hi! You brought a friend?”

The prince stares at Hiryuu, wide-eyed as recognition dawns on his face. “King,” says Yon-hi, “this is Kouka-of-the-future’s second prince, his highness Il of the Sky Tribe.” At a loss for words, the prince bows—and then disappears.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” says Hiryuu with a sigh. “But Yon-hi, I’m surprised you could bring someone else at all. You have a remarkable affinity for this time.”

“The gods wanted him to see you,” Yon-hi says, and Hiryuu frowns. “And he saw me reappear, and he’s not the type to let a mystery go without an explanation.”

“Ah…”

“Don’t you ever see other travelers in time?” Surely Yon-hi can’t be the only one who’s discovered those portals, not in two thousand years.

“I do!” says Hiryuu with a smile. “Some even from beyond your era. But you’re the only one who ever came back.”

When next Yon-hi sees the second prince, he speaks to her hesitantly. “Do all priests do that? Consult with King Hiryuu himself?”

“That’s not what—that has nothing to do with being a priest!”

“Then, Priestess, what…?”

She looks down. “I discovered I could go there, and we became friends. That’s all.” It sounds ridiculous that way. She visits the time of legends on a weekly basis, just to talk and have fun? But the prince smiles.

“Priestess, that’s amazing! Until today, I didn’t believe Hiryuu was a real person,” he says. “Thank you for sharing that with me!”

“It’s a relief, not being able to hear them in this time,” Yon-hi admits.

“Sometimes I miss them,” Hiryuu replies.

Yon-hi can’t take anything from the past back to the present with her, they learned that early on. It’s a shame, because there are so many books, so much history of before Kouka became Kouka. She begins bringing her own paper and ink with her, copying down what little she can. That’s what occupies her in the library one evening, almost a year since she started visiting regularly—well, a year for her, closer to two for Hiryuu. They’ve moved past the need to treat her visits as special occasions. “You don’t have to treat me like a tourist,” she’d laughed at Hiryuu and his dragons early on. “Seeing the sights is nice, but I came here to see you.” Hiryuu sits on the opposite side of the room, beneath a window, and as Yon-hi looks up while turning to a fresh sheet of paper, the sunset catches his crimson hair, sets it aglimmer like a warm fire, and Yon-hi finds her brush tracing those lines instead.

“Wait!” she calls out as Hiryuu rises from his seat. “I...I was painting you.” Her cheeks flush a bit at the explanation. Yon-hi is no great artist. But he resumes his seat, and Yon-hi finishes, far more self-conscious then when she began.

“Yon-hi,” says Hiryuu. “You made me beautiful.”

“I only tried to paint what I saw.”

“I’ve had official portraits. They’ve tried to look at a man and draw a god. Nothing so intimate as this.” He’s behind her, looking over her shoulder, his breath warm on her neck. “Yon-hi,” Hiryuu says. “May I kiss you?”

Her brush falls from her hand, splattering ink across the page. She looks up at him, and his hand reaches out to hers, gentle fingers brushing against her skin. Wordlessly, she nods.

His lips are as gentle as his fingers, but behind them, strength. There’s purpose here. It’s not the first time Yon-hi has been kissed, but, she thinks, it’s the first time she’s been kissed by someone who meant it.

“Was that our first kiss for you, too?” Hiryuu asks as he pulls away. It takes her a moment to register his meaning. Timelines. Right.

“It was,” she replies. Then, “you intend to kiss me again.”

“Yon-hi, I intend to kiss you as many times as you'll let me.”

“...oh.” It comes out as a whisper. “I didn’t...I didn’t realize you felt—”

“I don’t know if this is love.” He says the words like an apology. “I don’t know how to tell. I just know that, at my loneliest, I keep looking for you to appear.”

Yon-hi gives him no answer that night. But the moment she fades back into her own time she knows what it will be. She aches to see him again, a familiar feeling that she’s avoided naming for too long. When she returns, she rushes straight into his arms, and it’s not the second time he kisses her.

“This won't last,” she says. “I know it won't last.”

“Then let it burn all the brighter.”

In the end, it only lasts six more months. Hiryuu has her for another two years, their visits spread further apart on his side, and he’s the one who tells her it’s over. “Would that I could step through to your time, I’d condemn your false high priest myself!”

“Hiryuu, what—?” She hasn’t mentioned So-yun in months.

“You—” He leans on her, his head falling onto her chest. “You already said goodbye. Is this the last—? Or will every time feel this way now?”

“You—you’ll see me again,” is all Yon-hi can promise. “And you’ll find someone else. We always knew this.”

“No!” He takes a deep breath. “Do what you must to protect yourself, Yon-hi,” he says. “Tear the temple down if you have to. The gods don’t want—that.”

High Priest So-yun has heard that King Ju-nam listens to her. Has ordered her to betray his trust. And the power he would seize for the temple is not harmless, not this time. I’m sorry, Hiryuu. Maybe the gods don’t want your kingdom ruled by a temple of false priests and prophecies, but they’re not doing anything about it. It’s in my hands. Tearing down the temple isn’t necessary, not when the king will not listen to any priest but her. Ju-nam’s favor means she won’t be harmed, but So-yun can ensure that she never has the king’s ear—and never sets foot in the palace—again.

Goodbye, Hiryuu.

[ehyde]

What We Make (4/8)

Words: 1659 (this chapter) Characters: Yon-hi, Hiryuu, Shuten, Abi, Guen, Zeno, original characters Pairing: eventual Yon-hi/Hiryuu Rating: PG, might eventually be higher Warnings: Some might consider it age-difference shipping on account of time travel weirdness. Both characters are adults when any romance occurs. Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, ao3 link  

For Yon-hi, a young priest in training, the discovery that Hiryuu Castle contains gateways to the past leads to new friends, startling revelations, and eventually, something more.

Chapter 4: Two

Despite Hiryuu’s words, Yon-hi makes no attempt to return to the past. Or perhaps because of his words. How can she possibly live up to that? To make the founder of Kouka Kingdom feel so strongly toward her… Two times more during her time at the castle, she feels that subtle difference that tells her she might be able to step through to the past, and both times she avoids it—though she does record the location this time. Just in case.

There is a king in the present, too, and although Yon-hi’s own duties are simple, she feels like she’s on the edge of something great. She learns as much sitting in on Five Tribe meetings and visits with foreign dignitaries as she ever did from any of her lessons. Priest So-yun complains that the king never listens to his counsel—by law and custom, the only one he must obey is the high priest, and So-yun is merely an advisor—but Yon-hi finds that the most fascinating part. “He became a strong king without the help of the gods,” she says. “That’s really amazing!” She herself will always have the gods to guide her, but she thinks it would be wonderful to have that kind of strength, too.

One day, when she is fourteen, Priest So-yun asks her to speak a prophecy to the king. “What do you mean?” Yon-hi asks. “The gods haven’t asked for any new holidays.”

“The Fire Festival is celebrated across an entire tribe, and yet here, in the capital, we give the gods no such honors,” says So-yun. “They should not have to ask.”

To everyone outside the temple, even the king, all priests are oracles. So-yun could deliver a false prophecy just as easily as she could. But he won’t suspect any motive from a young girl. “I'll—I’ll think about it!” Yon-hi says, and runs away to pray.

Next morning, she is certain of two things: first, that the gods will not object, and second, that Priest So-yun really doesn’t care about pleasing the gods. A holiday itself would be harmless. The opposite of harmless—it would make all the people like the temple and the priesthood just a little more. King Ju-nam would have to listen to So-yun just a little more. And maybe, eventually, a lot more.

Yon-hi has a sneaking suspicion that the king would not be nearly so strong if he did whatever the temple asked.

“I won't do it,” she tells So-yun the next morning with wide, innocent eyes. “Speaking a prophecy that isn't true would feel wrong!” She hopes he believes that’s her only reason.

So-yun sighs. “Very well.” He goes on. “Yon-hi, it’s always been said that true oracles are better suited for charitable works than political. I thought you had potential, but perhaps, after today, I’ll choose a new apprentice.”

“But—”

If she had any doubts about So-yun’s motives before, this erases them. It ought to make her want to help him even less. But...she doesn’t want to leave the palace. And the gods weren’t against it, and the priesthood ought to have more power, and after all, it is only a festival. Did she really make the right choice? As she walks with Priest So-yun into the palace for what is possible the last time, she thinks of all the things she’ll be leaving behind. Watching the king do his work. Her access to the palace library. Her chance to do something important.

But no. This is her chance to do something important. It’s just not nearly as exciting as she’d hoped it would be. She thought she could do something that would make King Hiryuu admire her, but—

King Hiryuu. She'll be giving that up, too.

Yon-hi slows her pace, falling behind So-yun. As soon as he's not looking, she rounds a corner and rushes towards the nearest hole in time.

“Hey, you, how did you get…” Shuten’s voice trails off as he continues to stare at her. Yon-hi found the king and his dragons outside this time, in a garden, and they’re all young again. “What the hell? Yon-hi, is that you?” She nods. Why is Shuten so surprised this time? “King, is this going to happen all the time? She was a little kid two days ago and she’s practically a woman now!”

Abruptly, Yon-hi feels her face flush. Why does Shuten have to say it like that? She knows she’s gotten taller, but she’s still skinny all over, a far cry from “practically a woman.” “I’ll come back when I’m younger again,” she says, and Shuten just shakes his head.

“That doesn’t help!”

Hiryuu, who is playing a game with Guen, looks up and smiles at her. “I don’t think you’re making it any easier for him. Time travel isn’t something most humans ever have to think about.”

“It’s weird for me too,” Yon-hi reassures Shuten. “Last time I was here—” No, she shouldn’t say too much, right?

“Oh?” Abi asks with poorly-hidden curiosity. “Last time what?”

“The king had a kid!” Surely that’s safe to say. “That’s not really a secret. I mean, all kings have to have heirs.” But from the grins that appear on all four dragons, and the blush that turns Hiryuu’s face almost the same color as his hair, she’s at the very least given them fuel for teasing.

“Well, well, imagine that,” says Shuten. “I don’t suppose you know the name of his queen?”

Yon-hi hadn’t thought the king could turn any redder. He turns away and studies his game board very intently, and Yon-hi shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty! I shouldn’t have said—”

“It’s quite all right,” says Hiryuu. He doesn’t look up from the game. They’re playing baduk, and if the king is black…

“You still have a way out,” says Yon-hi.

“No, no, you’re right, I do need an heir eventually…”

Yon-hi laughs. “I mean in the game!”

“Well, in that case,” says Hiryuu, and he places another stone. Guen takes turns placing stones awkwardly with his left hand, or even more awkwardly with his dragon’s claws, and it’s not long before he resigns.

“Do you play, miss?” Guen asks Yon-hi, and when she nods, he asks her if she’d like a game. Yon-hi would much rather play with Hiryuu, but it would be rude to refuse. “How many stones?”

“None!” Yon-hi protests. She certainly doesn’t need a handicap.

In the end, Guen demolishes her. “Don’t be fooled by appearances,” says Hiryuu with a smile. “After all, Guen led an army before he became my dragon. I was playing with a considerable handicap myself.”

“You’ve got a lot of talent, miss,” Guen reassures her. “Do you play a lot?”

Yon-hi shakes her head. “It’s not very popular in the future.” She learned from the temple librarian, but passed her in skill years ago. Sometimes, in the palace, the second prince asks to play with her. He usually wins, but those games are always close. And that's another thing she'll leave behind. “More people play shogi.”

“Never heard of that one…”

“Oh! I can teach you, if you want...”

“You seem distracted,” Hiryuu says, when Guen and Yon-hi are in the midst of their second game.

“It hasn’t happened yet,” Yon-hi says shortly. She doesn’t want to think about how this is probably the last time she’ll be able to come back here. Not when she should be—is—enjoying herself. But Hiryuu takes her hand, and it all comes spilling out. “I wanted to be a priest at the castle! I wanted to advise the king! Now I’ll probably be sent to some tiny shrine in the countryside because I wouldn’t tell a stupid lie and it’s not even important and the gods don’t even care, I just—I didn’t want to undermine the king—” She takes a deep breath, about to explain the situation in detail, when Guen speaks up.

“Your king takes advice from priests?” he asks.

“Well, he’s supposed to…”

“Huh. You know, Zeno used to be a priest.”

“Yep,” says Zeno, joining the conversation. “In a tiny shrine in the countryside! It’s not so bad. But the gods never spoke to me about kings and stuff, not until Lord Ouryuu asked me to drink his blood.”

The gods never speak to Yon-hi about matters of state, either, but she's still an apprentice. All the priests say—

All the priests, of whom true oracles number less than a third. The priests, who keep those oracles out of politics.

“I guess in your time it's different?” Zeno continues.

“I mean, of course the gods care about Kouka…” She turns to Hiryuu. “They must, right? I mean, it's your kingdom.”

At that, Hiryuu looks quite startled. “Yon-hi. Do you want my advice?” Hesitantly, Yon-hi nods. Maybe he’ll tell her she shouldn’t support a king who won’t listen to the heavens. He is a god, after all. That would mean she could stay in the palace...but she’d be disappointed all the same. “If your priesthood resorts to lies for their own power, you’re right to support your king,” he says. “But if there’s one thing I’m sure you know from playing games like this, it’s not to sacrifice a strong position until it will make a difference. If this one lie is as minor as you say...just make sure this is where you want to make your move.”

When Yon-hi returns to the present, she rushes back to the king’s council room. So-yun hasn’t finished meeting with him. She delivers his false prophecy without hesitation and only feels a little sick afterwards, which is easy enough to pass off as the normal aftereffect of speaking for the gods. “I thought you’d come around,” So-yun says to her later. “I’ve never met an oracle with such drive.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Yon-hi mutters, just to spite him. “King Hiryuu said it was all right.”

To that, So-yun has no response.

[ehyde]

What We Make (3/8)

Words: 1138 (this chapter) Characters: Yon-hi, Hiryuu, Shuten, Abi, Guen, Zeno, original characters Pairing: eventual Yon-hi/Hiryuu Rating: PG, might eventually be higher Warnings: Some might consider it age-difference shipping on account of time travel weirdness. Both characters are adults when any romance occurs. Previous Chapters: 1, 2, ao3 link  

For Yon-hi, a young priest in training, the discovery that Hiryuu Castle contains gateways to the past leads to new friends, startling revelations, and eventually, something more.

Chapter 3: Seven

Yon-hi returns to the castle at age twelve. So-yun, the priest who attends the king, has made her his apprentice. So Yon-hi doesn’t think about looking for holes in time. That was just a game she played, something she made up. To really meet King Hiryuu and his dragons would have been impossible. She has an important, grown-up duty now, so she really can’t spend any time daydreaming about finding those gateways to the past again.

But Yon-hi’s duties—which so far consist of mainly fetching and carrying letters—practically require her to explore the castle. So if she were to wander off a little bit...it wouldn’t be a big deal, right? She tells herself she’s not looking for holes in time. In fact, the reason she’s going down to Hiryuu’s mausoleum, to where that portal supposedly was, is to prove to herself once and for all that they don’t exist. It never happened. The names Abi, Shuten, Guen, and Zeno, which aren’t recorded in any history books, were just a product of her imagination.

That tingle running across her skull, that difference in the air, is just—

She steps through.

“I knew it! I knew it was real!” Yon-hi shouts in triumph the moment the world changes. A servant shoots her a look, but continues on his way. Excellent. Now, to find her friends.

This time, they’re in the library, Hiryuu and all four dragons seated around a table along with some men Yon-hi doesn’t know. Only Zeno is facing her as she enters, and his eyes widen as he sees her there. She wonders how much time has passed for them. Last time, they were surprised that she was only eight, so this has to be before that, right? And Zeno still looks pretty young. He smiles at her from across the room, then leans over to Hiryuu to whisper something to him. The king speaks a few words and the unknown men stand up to leave. Yon-hi doesn’t wait any longer, but rushes into the room to take one of the vacated seats. “I thought it wasn’t real but it was! I found out how to come back!”

Then she sees Hiryuu’s face.

He's old. There are lines around his eyes and his face is gaunt. Even his hair seems more dull, though it hasn't been touched by gray. The other dragons are older, too, but they don't look so worn out. She looks back at Zeno, confused.

“Yon-hi,” Hiryuu says. “It's been a long time.”

“Yes,” she says.

He smiles softly. “Is it so obvious?” Yon-hi doesn't reply.

They talk for a while, all six of them. Yon-hi tells them about her new job in the palace, and wishes they would act more excited for her. Hiryuu tells her about his son: two years old, it’s already past his bedtime. Guen asks her for advice about wooing a woman—Yon-hi thinks that if she isn’t already interested, there’s probably no hope, but, pressed for any suggestion at all, suggests he could try growing a beard. For some reason, Hiryuu finds that very funny. But the conversation feels empty. Yon-hi can tell when grown-ups are talking down to her. It wasn’t like this before. When the conversation slows down, she asks if she can look at books instead.

“Of course,” says Hiryuu. “And I’m afraid I must retire for the night. Goodnight, Yon-hi.” And that’s it. Guen and Zeno go with him to his chambers, and Yon-hi is left alone with Abi and Shuten.

“Did...did he not want to see me?” But she shouldn’t have expected anything more. He’s a god and she’s just some kid who met him a couple of times before and thought that meant they were friends. And he’s old now, he doesn’t have much time left, of course he doesn’t want to spend it with her. She looks down at her book. Tries to focus on the words, but tears blur her vision.

“He’s an idiot,” says Shuten. “I’ve half a mind to knock some sense into his head.”

“Please do so,” says Abi. “Yon-hi, the king wanted to see you very, very much. I promise.”

But Yon-hi can’t believe him. She looks down. “I want to go home,” she says. But the doorways don’t go both ways.

Abi and Shuten take her to supper. She doesn’t eat. The gods were right, back then. Yon-hi doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t think she’d be able to sleep, either, but for the knowledge that she’ll probably be home when she wakes up. But when dawn comes, she’s still in the past. Zeno comes to her with breakfast, but Yon-hi only shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me,” she says. “I’ll disappear soon.”

“If you won’t eat, do you want to meet the prince?”

“I...I guess that would be all right,” Yon-hi admits.

The little prince has a head full of black hair and a remarkably stern face for a toddler. “What’s your name?” Yon-hi asks as they play together in the royal nursery.

“Yakshi,” says Zeno when the prince doesn't answer. “That’s not in your history books?”

She shakes her head. “This era, it’s all legends. Some people don’t even believe King Hiryuu existed.”

“That’s...two thousand years, you said, right?” Zeno asks. Yon-hi nods. She’s pretty sure she didn’t say, but maybe she will. Anyway, he’s right. “Miss Yon-hi, you’d tell me if...if there was anything—”

“Tell you what?”

Zeno looks away. “Nevermind.”

“Daddy!” The prince stands up, arms outstretched, and Yon-hi turns around to see Hiryuu standing in the nursery door. He steps forward, reaching down to lift his son into his arms. Even such a small weight is a strain for him.

“Daddy can’t play right now,” Hiryuu says, setting the boy down again. “I have to borrow your Aunt Yon-hi for a minute, all right?”

“Okay…”

Hiryuu takes Yon-hi to a garden. There’s already a tea service set out for them. It’s a sunny, spring morning, and the cherry trees are in bloom. “I’m sorry,” Hiryuu says. “I was rude, wasn’t I?”

“Did Shuten knock sense into your head like he said?”

That brings out a real smile. “Something like that. I didn't want this to be our goodbye. I was forgetting that for you, it isn't.”

Yon-hi looked down. “Well...I don't know if I want to come back,” she confessed. “The last time I came, you were hurt, and now you’re—” Dying, she doesn’t say. “You’re sad because you wanted say goodbye to someone who doesn’t exist yet, right? If you never knew that me...you’d be happier, right?”

Hiryuu breathes in sharply. “No, Yon-hi, don’t—” He sighs. “I don’t believe I’d be happier, not for an instant. And looking at you now, it's like I can look forward to living it all over again.”