#these trades made me fall to my knees in a Market Basket

[puckingdisastrous]

omg guys, the new Canucks & Bruins logos just dropped

[lonely-lost-soul]

A Pirate's Life for Me

Cover Art Done By: @fridaydev-draws and @friday-dsv (Dreamsmp x reader) Pirate Au! Love Interests: C!Wilbur, C!Techno, C!Dream, C!Sapnap, C!Quackity, and C!Schlatt

~~~

Salt burned your lungs as you tossed open your window with a loud bang, the seagulls perching on your flower boxes screeched in protest and flew from your window. “Fucking sky rats get the fuck out of here you heathens!” You snarled out the window shaking your fist at the bothersome birds, the sounds of the ocean crashing on the shore filled your ears as well as the chatter of the dock workers. You let the breeze blow back your hair and you heard someone calling your name from down below.

“Good morning (Y/n)!” You glanced below you and grinned,

“Morning Eret!” They waved back enthusiastically their dress spilling around their ankles, a basket of fruit was balanced on his hip. “Opening early today? I'm sure your patrons would be happy to start their drunken stupor early,” She held a hand to his mouth snickering and you shot them a look.

“If that gets more money in my pocket then so be it, I won't complain too much.” You shrugged, “Will I still see you later tonight?”

“Always do dove, how can I resist a drink from my favorite bartender.”

“You can’t it’s my charm.”

“Will the both of you shut the fuck up!” Another man’s voice growled from another open window, “It’s too early for your bullshit.” You saw Eret click his tongue but smiled up at you despite the man's protests,

“I’m heading to the market anyway. These fruits won’t sell themselves, I'll see you later.”

“See you soon!” You closed your windows once more, but not before urging your daisies to grow one last time. You tossed open the curtains allowing light to spill into your cozy home, a small carpet was in the middle of your room. It was a deep red and the pattern was made of gold yarn, aside from that everything in your residency was made of dark wood. Your shelves were littered with books and empty cups, and your old worn journal sat open on your desk. It was filled with childhood memories and you continued to write in it to this day, it was easier then, things were simple and everything was innocent and new to you. Now your days were filled with sea fairing idiots who liked to drink themselves stupid, but you could handle yourself, you always kept your father's dagger on your thigh at all times. Those who were frequent customers knew not to mess with you and those who were new learned their lesson within the first ten minutes of meeting you. You inherited the bar from your father, a kindhearted man who died a few years before today, leaving you with the bar and the dagger you had on your hip. You fished through your closet pulling out your clothes for the day, your dress was a gorgeous light coffee color and came down to your ankles. The bottom was flared and had dark brown panels on the sides, it faded inward to a light green then back to the coffee color. The corset around your waist was a dark brown with light green trim, you tied it tight with a small huff making sure your waist was sinched perfectly. The sleeves came down to your elbows allowing you to move your arms freely while making drinks. The top of the dress ended just below your collarbone, you strapped your dagger to your thigh before lacing up your knee-high black boots.

You thought back to your tavern downstairs, you were fortunate enough that you weren’t running this entire operation yourself. You ended up hiring help and they were like family and you knew they saw you as such as well. Most of the girls didn’t have a family of their own so you gave them room and board, also money, of course, you weren’t a terrible boss! You opened the door to your room, you watched Cecil, the tavern’s mascot trot out of Juniper’s room. The border collie liked to switch up which rooms he stayed in protecting every one of your girls when you couldn’t be there for them.

The first of your girls was Adelaide or Addie, she was one of the first to fall under your care. She was around your age, a motherly type, sheep hybrid, who cared for the girls, and always gave the drunk patrons with mommy issues a shoulder to cry on. Her long brown hair always hung down her back, she typically worked tables, served food and drinks, and always got a generous tip from patrons.

The next girl was Judas, a squid-enderman hybrid who was taller than you could ever wish to be, although intimidating you couldn’t meet a kinder woman. A jack of all trades the woman helped out wherever she could, black-ish purple hair curled around her shoulders and some people came specifically to hear her sing. Her voice was like rich velvet and lured men and women in like a siren.

Juniper was after Judas, a demon hybrid who was naive but you’d be a fool to underestimate her. She worked beside you at the bar, she can make some mean fruity drinks, Eret always preferred her drinks over yours. Freckles adorned her face and shoulders, her light brown hair curled down to her middle back, purple horns sprouted from the top of her head. You wanted to adorn it with gold jewelry and you were saving up to gift some to her.

Yeti was a human woman like yourself, she didn’t bother with those who were rude or obnoxious. She kept to herself only really talking when she was spoken to or when there was an opportunity to crack a rare joke. She typically stayed on the sidelines, out of the scenes and Yeti liked to help Judas decorate her sets.

Zig was a kind young adult, they got along with everyone who came inside the tavern. Soft emerald eyes drew people in, and they tried to make sure tensions within the bar didn’t rise and start a fight. There would always be one or two that’s just natural, but one look at Zig and his magic words and they seemed to disperse, not wanting to hurt the kid’s feelings.

Vendetta was the tallest member of the group you had taken in, she was stunningly beautiful and didn't take shit from anybody. She was a guard dog if you will, making sure no one fucked with any of the girls in your tavern. While Zig did their best to keep people under control sometimes they couldn’t win. That’s when Ven would step in and ‘kindly’ escort them off the premises with or without force.

The youngest member here was Luvena. She was a moo-bloom hybrid with soft brown hair that sprouted flowers, her cow ears would twitch when she was excited and followed Addie around like she was her daughter. Addie took her under her wing and was training her to be a perfect little waitress, absolutely warming customers’ hearts. Luvena also loved to give out flowers, she was a fan favorite bringing new life into the tavern.

Cecil barked seeing his mama and scampered over to you, you poured food into his bowl as Juniper wandered into the hallway. Her head rested on the doorframe as she gave you a tried wave, “Morning (Y/n).”

“Morning Juni, We’re opening a little early today. Take your time I’m not expecting a big rush of bar patrons this early.” You assured her and she gave a sleepy nod,

“I’ll be down as soon as Ven’s out of the shower.” She yawned, “This beauty doesn’t come naturally.”

“Hardly darling you’re gorgeous just the way you are.” You reassured with a wink, Juniper flushed a little, happily laughing beside you.

“Just go wake the others will you, you flirt!”

Tossing your head back you gave a happy laugh heading down the hallway to make sure everyone was awake and ready to go for later. Addie and Luvena shared a room so she was in charge of waking up the youngest member of the tavern. Judas was already awake making breakfast for everyone when you headed downstairs, Zig was sitting on the counter beside her, they were the designated taste tester.

“Good morning Miss (Y/n)!” Zig chirped, the young adult hummed fondly, “Sleep okay?”

“Absolutely. What about you both? Thank you for making breakfast Judas.” You hummed fondly and Judas had a shy smile on her face.

“I slept well thank you.” Judas hummed softly, “Also it’s my pleasure. Want to make sure everyone’s healthy and alright.” She let out a little squeak as you wrapped your arms around her body, you barely came up to her chest,

“Judas please marry me,” You complained, “Your breakfast is always heavenly and you care for everyone. Please be my wife.”

“(Y/n)! Please.” She sputtered face turning a dark purple, Zig made a noise of protest and held his hand in the air.

“If she won’t marry you I will!”

“Zig! I’d be honored!”

Their entire face lit up with excitement and they hopped off the table to hug you tightly, you hugged them back and pressed a fond kiss to the top of their head. “I got to open up the tavern, you mind setting the table for me Zig?”

“Sure Miss!”

You sent Judas a kiss in the air which her face burned at, quickly going back to her cooking. You smiled eagerly and unlocked the door to the tavern, you shoved a bucket in front of the door to keep it open. The salty ocean air wafted through your nostrils and your eyes sparkled wondrously.

Today is going to be a good day.

Almost immediately a particular bastard caught your eye,

“You’re here early.” You mused raising an eyebrow,

“Heard you were opening early today sweetcheeks,” His voice was a low baritone, rough from years of smoking and drinking. Horns curled around his fluffy ears that stood out against his gruff exterior, he was a ram hybrid at its finest. “Figured I’d take the opportunity to get a special drink from my special girl,” He mused looking you up and down drinking in your figure. You scoffed at the retired man, he dressed like he was cosplaying captain jack sparrow, the gun’s in his belt just added to his costume and so did his large ruffled shirt, he was never one to forget his gold jewelry.

“Where’s Quackity?” You ignored him sitting him at his usual table, he frowned but you knew he was taking it as an opportunity to stare at your ass. He slid into the stool and put his feet up on the table, his boots were muddy but you could only control him so much. He was too much of a regular to get scared off by your threats and scolding.

“He’ll be in at his normal time. He’s not much of a day drinker, although can’t say I’m complaining. Having all your attention on me and all, considering I’m the only one in here. That being said, I’ll have my usual sweetcheeks.”

“Stop calling me that,” You scolded with a certain fondness that was reserved for the man. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite regular Schlatt,” you gave his ears a fond pinch and he bleated. He sent you a scalding look as you walked away, although the look soon fell as he got a good look at your ass once again.

“I’m your only regular sugar tits!”

“Schlatt feet off the table.” Addie criticized whacking his boots with a rolled-up menu, he rolled his eyes but dropped his feet to the floor. “You should know this by now, we go through this every day.”

“Yeah, yeah little lamb I’m on it. Judas here?”

“She’s always here,” She huffed spreading the menu down on the table. “Do you want your usual or something different? Should I get Quackity’s drink ready too?”

“Nah just stick with mine, for now, tell Judas I’d like to see her.”

Addie clicked her tongue and placed her hand on her hip, “fine. But if you’re just going to grossly flirt with her as you do with (y/n), then keep it to yourself.”

“You’re not the boss of me. Just because you look like an old hag-” The way she glared at him sent a chill down his spine, “shit babe take a joke will you.”

Eventually, people began to file into the tavern, as the morning faded into the afternoon and then into the evening. The tavern was bustling with life, Judas’s elegant voice traveled through the crowds and her voices seemed to float above the voices. Quackity joined Schlatt by his side seemingly irritated by a conversation they were having, Schlatt was about five drinks in at this point, which was much less than his usual, and Quackity on his second.

“What are they talking about?” Luvena asked swinging her legs as she sat on the bar beside you. Her moobloom ears twitching every so often as she tried to eavesdrop on their conversation,

“Vena it’s impolite to eavesdrop.” You scolded bopping her on the head lightly, she whined and rubbed the top of her head.

“I wasn’t!” She argued as you rolled your eyes, you looked over at the two men to find Quackity looking over at you. His hand was raised in the air, one finger was up summoning you to get him another drink.

“I’ll be back, why don’t you talk to Ven while I’m gone. She’ll keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Good thing she doesn’t want to babysit your ass either, now shoo.” You motioned her to hop off the bar and she did so with a long, dramatic sigh. You looked over at Ven who gave you a silent nod, letting you know she’d watch out for the youngest member of your band of misfits. Meanwhile, you grabbed Quackity another drink and walked over to the two men at the table, “Someone order a drink?”

“Aye! Mamacita! Fancy seeing you here.” Quackity purred a bright smile spreading across his face seeing that you were the one to deliver his drink,

“Hey Big Q,” You greeted placing the drink in front of him, “You doing okay?”

“Better now that an angel walked into my sight,” He flirted and you rolled your eyes. “What? It’s true! You always brighten my day you know? Ow!” Schlatt hit his ex-first mate over the head,

“Take a breath lover boy. Thanks for the drink sugar tits.”

“You’re welcome, what were the both of you talking about if I may ask.” You hummed grabbing some of Schlatt’s empty glasses, an uncharacteristic frown came over both their faces. “Oh? Touchy subject?”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Just dishing out some old problems, most of which are better left unsaid.” He aimed that statement at Quackity, his jaw seemed clenched and Quackity’s brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Well I just want to remind the both of you,” You passed the tray of empty glasses over to Addie as she walked by, she took them swiftly. You grabbed the side of both their heads and pressed them against your chest, not that you knew but both men’s flushed to the tips of their ears. “No physical fights are allowed in this tavern. If one starts I won’t hesitate to kick your fucking asses. Got it?” They looked over your chest and locked eyes with one another, after years on the sea they could read one another’s facial expressions rather easily and at that moment they shared the same thought,

‘They should fight more often.’

“I said, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” The repeated simultaneously as you pulled away,

“That’s what I like to hear-”

“(Y/n)!” Vendetta’s velvety voice called out from behind you, you turned and saw a group of newcomers file into your bar. Your body tensed momentarily,

Pirates.

Schlatt turned his head to follow your gaze and he tensed from behind you, “fuck me.” He growled and Quackity raised an eyebrow at his captain, he turned to look over his shoulder and his face lit up.

“Sapnap!”

The pirate who had a white bandana tied around his forehead glanced over at him and a smile lit up across his features. “Quackity? Is that you?”

“My man!” He stood up from his chair heading over to wrap the man in a hug, “I haven’t seen you in years, man.” You zoned out of their conversation eyes locking with a few of the other pirates who walked into the tavern. Vendetta and Addie both greeted them, but everyone who was under your care knew to keep their guard up around pirates. From what you could gather there seemed to be two crews, a crew of what only seemed to be two, Sapnap was included. The fire demon was still talking with Quackity, while the other man took in the view of the tavern, he had shaggy blonde hair, and had a few scars across his face. A porcelain mask sat on top of his head, a forest green cloak was around his shoulders, his hood was lowered around his neck. A sword was strapped tight against his hip and there was another dagger that seemed to be tucked against his side. His eyes gazed towards you and he winked teasingly with a coy smile, you scoffed looking over at Addie.

“Seat those two gentlemen yeah? Be careful, I’ll tell Ven and Yeti to keep an eye.” Addie looked at you, concern written on her soft features but she nodded. While Addie departed, you noticed Ven talking with the other group. Luvena was hiding behind Vendetta’s long legs, although a tall blonde boy seemed very keen on talking to her. You smoothed out your dress and moved towards the group of three, you eyed them up casually. The blonde looked to be around Luvena’s age, he had a shit-eating grin on his face and his uniform matched that of the second tallest in the group. The second tallest was clad in a light blue jacket with large golden buttons on the red collar. He had a cream-frilled shirt underneath and a black belt holding up his brown slacks, those were tucked into black boots. On his back seemed to be a guitar and was the only one of them not holding a weapon, but you knew better than to assume with pirates. His curly brown hair seemed to bounce every time he talked, he seemed to be the ringleader but there was no doubt that the real ringleader was the hybrid standing beside him. He was taller, on par with Vendetta in height, he had long pink hair that was tied in a ponytail on top of his head. A few pieces framed his face elegantly, there was no doubt he was the captain of the little crew that was in your tavern. He had a white shirt on with a deep low cut ‘V’ it showed off a good portion of his scared chest, around his shoulders sat a deep red jacket but his arms were outside of it and crossed over his chest. He seemed content on letting his second in command do all the talking, his red eyes were the only ones to meet yours. His head tilted upwards and before Vendetta could stop him he walked over towards you,

“You own the tavern?” His voice was a low monotone and it sent an array of pleasant chills up your spine.

“I do,” You raised an eyebrow crossing your arms over your chest, “Names (Y/n). You are?”

“Captain Technoblade of the ship Odyssey, I was hoping you had a few rooms and a table available. My brothers and I are pretty exhausted, we’ve been sailing all night.”

Brothers, they certainly didn’t all look alike, but then again you certainly had a mix of girls in your care. Your tongue swiped against the top row of your teeth, “Why don’t you and your brothers take a seat at the bar for now. Juniper will be happy to serve you, I’ll see if we have some free rooms available.”

“Thank you, once you return I’ll introduce them to you if you’d like,” Technoblade bowed his head before turning back to get his brother’s attention.

“I’d like that thank you.” You gave a nod motioning for Vendetta to follow you as you slid behind the bar with Juniper, Judas had also taken a spot sitting on the bar. You figured you’d let her know as well, considering she was another adult figure in the group. You knew either Juniper or Judas would fill in Addie considering the three were close. “Ven, can they be trusted?”

“Not too sure about the masked man, the one Quackity seems to be familiar with seems decent enough. He’s a fire demon though, could smell him from miles away, we all just need to be cautious.”

“Agreed,” Juniper added tapping her finger on her chin. “We should just try to curb all fighting if at all possible, what did the captain of the other group ask you?”

“They want a room, I’m about to check to see if we have availability. Thoughts on that?”

Judas let out a low hum her eyes followed both sets of pirate groups around the tavern, “I say if we have availability let them stay. They seem harmless so long as we don’t mess with them, which we’d never do.”

“Plus I can always stay awake to keep an eye on them.” Vendetta tapped her nails against the table,

“You sure.”

“As if I’d let anything happen to any of you, you’re my family.”

You all smiled softly, and you noticed Judas’s eyes widen, “Zig! Get that out of your mouth this instant!” She shot up from her spot and over to the person in question. The three of you laughed fondly at the nonsense, meanwhile, Juniper saw the three brothers sit at her bar. She moved away from you to greet them, you immediately could tell she was taken with the second eldest brother.

He seemed to be an absolute lady killer.

Vendetta ruffled your hair before going back to stand at her place by the door to keep the peace. You headed up the stairs to the rafters to check on the extra rooms you had, “Excuse me?” You tensed visibly turning around to face the man in all green. His eyes were mesmerizing, a fierce jade green to contrast his cloak, “Do you happen to have two rooms available?” The man held up two fingers to clarify his request,

“Do you usually start introductions with a blatant request like that?”

He chuckled a smile spreading across his lips, “I’m Dream and you gorgeous?”

“(Y/n), it’s your lucky day I’m about to check and see if any are available. My tavern is a hot commodity tonight.”

“Well, I can see why,” he spoke and you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head to the side.

“Oh?”

“It has the hottest owner around. Word spreads fast.”

You couldn’t believe this man was making your cheeks burn, he chuckled softly taking a step towards your figure. “Oh really, word spreads that fast on the open sea, Captian?” It was his turn to turn light pink, but he covered it up quickly with a chuckle.

“Touché.”

“I’ll get on that room for you and your friend. Take a seat, for now, this part is for guests and staff only you know?”

“So I have you all to myself?” He cheekily mused, he stepped towards you and before you knew it you were pinned against a wall. His hand suddenly brushed against your cheek, it was cold in comparison to your warm cheek. You felt Dream’s thumb brush against your cheek slowly, “You know...being on the open sea alone does something to a person.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You mused pushing your forehead back against Dream’s, “All alone with only your crew with you.” Taking his other hand within your own you slid it up to your hip, you saw his entire face turn red as he stared down at your chest. “You’re probably missing a little love in your life, aren’t you Dreamy?” He nodded dumbly, his eyes still not leaving your chest,

Perfect. You weren’t going to let some pirate boy get the better of you.

He let out a grunt of pain as you spun him around and pressed his head into the wall with your elbow, your other hand has his pinned behind his back. “This hallway is for staff and guests only,” You purred in his ear before letting him go and swinging your hips before heading up the stairs fully. From behind you, Dream’s face was a deep, dark red and he had to clear his throat. Dream wasn’t going to let you go after that, I mean look at you, tough and able to hold your own, it awakened something inside him.

After checking up on the rooms you headed back down into the main hall, three-room keys in your hand. Glancing over at the scene in front of you, you saw Juniper dancing in the middle of the tavern the flirtatious brother at her side. Judas was sitting beside Schatt and Quackity at the bar, Addie was tending to Technoblade and the blonde at their little table. Dream and Sapnap were whispering to one another in the corner but still seemed to be enjoying the show. Vendetta was smiling softly by the door, beside her were Luvena and Zig both playing various instruments. You noticed Eret was also amongst the crowd, she had a brilliant grin on his face, it was flushed pink with alcohol and you smiled to yourself.

It was peaceful, and for a moment you forget half the patrons were scoundrels or pirates.

That was until the man dancing with Juniper locked eyes with you, his eyes lit up and he spun Juniper off into Addie’s arms. She giggled snuggling into the mother sheep’s arms, you heard a distressed “Juni! I’m holding glasses!” Before your vision was overtaken by the handsome flirt.

“Hello love,” He hummed, “May I offer you a dance?”

You were about to refuse but you saw Yeti, who finally made her appearance as it was getting closer to Judas’s set, giving you a big thumbs up “I’d be honored.” You responded taking his hand within your own, he pulled you out onto the dance floor and you felt his other hand politely hover on the small of your back. He allowed you to lean into his touch as he began to elegantly spin you around the dance floor, you were almost embarrassed to say felt like a princess. “Maybe I could get your name?” You asked above the music, “Since it seems you’re my dance partner this evening?”

“Wilbur Soot my love.” He hummed proudly, “The first mate of the ship Odysseus at your service. Plus I play music on the side.”

“Well now you need to play for us,” Wilbur twirled you around in a circle,

“Maybe one day. If you give me your name?”

“(Y/n) (L/n).”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“I was right.” You commented biting the bottom of your lip trying not to smile,

“About what?”

“You.”

“Ah? Already talking about me I see? Is my manliness and gentlemanly qualities that renowned?”

“Not exactly.” He picked you up slightly and pulled you into a low dip, ��I was right in thinking you a nothing but a flirty playboy.” Wilbur almost dropped you, you squawked grabbing onto his neck. He began to laugh as you clung to his chest,

“Alright love. You caught me red-handed.”

Wilbur set you on your feet hands on your lower back, you were pulled close to his chest. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I get them for free hon. I own the place.”

“Oh...oh.” He paled a little, “I didn’t fuck up our chances of getting a room did I?”

“Nah lucky for you and your brothers, I have you covered, same with your buddies over there.” You motioned to Dream and Quackity’s friend, Wilbur’s face paled as he felt the chilled room key get placed in his palm. “What’s your little brother’s name?”

“Tommy.”

“Tell them both we serve breakfast free from 7 am to 10 am.” He nodded as you walked past, Wilbur meanwhile turned to look at Technoblade. It seemed he had his red eyes on the couple the entire time they were dancing. He held up a room key, it was labeled 205; Technoblade nodded his head before leaning back and talking to Addie once more. “Dream!” You called throwing a hand up into the air, instead of Dream, Sapnap looked up he nudged Dream with his elbow. The man was now wearing his mask, but at least you could tell he was looking at you,

“Well hello, darlin’ you must be (Y/n). Name's Sapnap. Dream told me about you, so you have good news for us I hope?”

“Pleasure, I'm sure he told you all about me,” He nodded, his eyes taking in your body especially your ass. “Got you both a room key, your neighbors. Across from the other crew of pirates. Just don’t fight and we won’t have any problems.”

“You mean those jackasses are staying?” Sapnap complained loudly, looking over your shoulder at the other crew members.

“You both didn’t think you were the only patrons, did you? This is a business after all.” You, tossed the keys their way, Dream caught it with ease and Sapnap fumbled it only a little bit. After they were in their hands, you waved them off with a flutter of your palm you turned around to go speak with Judas about her set but before you could take a step you saw Schlatt stumbling up from his seat. “Ah shit,” You knew what was about to happen, you weren’t paying attention to the ram hybrid so who knew how many drinks in he was. You felt responsible, for a while you and Judas had been trying to help Schlatt with his addiction. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly set him off for him to get this drunk, Quackity caught him in his arms with a grumble. The man was a drunken mess, and as you approached you could hear his slurred speech and could practically smell the alcohol on his breath. “Schlatt,” You spoke carefully and as soon as you got close Schlatt detached himself from Quackity and lunged at you. His head was buried in his chest, he almost purred like he was very happy to be there, you rolled your eyes and ran your fingers through his hair. You were mindful of his horns but he seemed pretty eager for you to touch them,

“(Y/n).” He whined although it was muffled against your ample chest, “Why do pirates have to fuck everything up?”

“What are you on about Schlatt? No one likes pirates.”

“They’re gonna take you away from me, sugar. You’re my safe space, this tavern is my safe space.” You sighed listening to his drunken ramblings, you grabbed his horns and pulled him away from your chest.

“This is my life Schlatt, I’m not going anywhere trust me. Plus my family is here, they need me. So try not to worry okay?” You slicked back the hair on his forehead before planting a fond kiss there, everyone in the tavern narrowed their eyes at the scene. Even your girls were green with envy, at the sight of their lovely boss kissing someone who wasn’t them. He leaned against your lips eyes fluttering closed,

“Well, well, well if it isn’t Captian Schlatt? Or ex-captain if I remember correctly.”

“What?”

You turned your head and felt Schlatt’s arms wrap around your waist and held you close to his chest. The touch was protective and you felt your heart skip a beat, why was he protecting you, and why did you actually feel protected?

“Has the drinking finally caught up to you? Or was it the fact that you lost your so-”

Was that Dream's voice?

“Shut the fuck up.” He snarled and you were shoved behind him into Quackity’s arms, you felt less protected. “I’m not that person anymore and you fucking know that,” Vendetta came to stand beside the both of you a hand was placed on your shoulder protectively. You knew she was desperately wanted to step in and you held up a hand to stop her.

“This isn’t good…” Quackity murmured, “They’re going to fight. Schlatt’s going to get himself fucking killed.”

“Calm yourself. We won’t let it get that far.” Ven grumbled eyeing you waiting for your signal. But you were lost in the conversation or argument, the two were having, you couldn’t believe Schlatt was a pirate. He was so...he just didn’t...he was a drunk okay? That didn’t exactly shout feared pirate to you!

“Oh, are you sure? I remember that look, that’s the look you’d get before you stomped someone’s lights out. No wonder your son disappeared under mysterious circumstances-” Dream was shoved against one of the poles holding up the building. He grunted and Schlatt’s arm was pulled back ready to punch, but his arm was stopped by smaller hands,

“Pardon me Mr. Schlatt but you know how we feel about fighting in our tavern.” Addie bubbled, she had a smile on her face but it wasn’t kind, it was full of warning.

“Get the fuck off me, sheepie. This doesn’t fucking concern you.” Schlatt shoved her away and as soon as his skin made contact with her body he made a sound of distress.

“(Y/n)...” Addie murmured quietly, your father’s dagger was embedded in Schlatt’s arm,

“Fucking hell you bitch!” He snarled baring his teeth, you glared at him twisting the dagger he yelled in agony.

“Touch one of my girls again and next time this dagger is going right into your back.” You ripped the dagger out, splattering the floor with blood. He grabbed his arm tightly and looked at you with slight betrayal in his yellow eyes. “I mean it Schlatt, Quackity take him home.” The man nodded looking at you longingly, he muttered a quiet ‘Sorry’ before escorting him out of your tavern. “You,” You glared harshly over at Dream, “Go to your room.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“Then find another play to stay.” You spat, he turned away and you looked over at Addie, “Are you alright?” Your voice turned tender as you cupped her cheeks. She nuzzled against your palms and nodded her head,

“I’m fine. You didn’t need to-”

“Yes, I did. No one messes with you. With any of you on my watch.”

The sheep hybrid made a little sound as her bottom lip trembled, she wrapped you in a tight hug which you accepted without hesitance. Judas walked over next and wrapped you both in her arms, pretty soon you were surrounded by your girls and Zig.

All of them had the same mindset: comforting both you and Addie.

It was good to be loved.

Wilbur watched the scene curiously and glanced over at Technoblade who stood up from his chair.

“I think that’s our cue to leave for the night.” He looked over at his first mate, Wilbur nodded in agreement grabbing his guitar from the chair beside Technoblade.

“They...Techno were they talking about Tubbo.” Tommy whispered to his brother, his brow furrowing in concern as they all climbed the steps up to their room, “You don’t think-”

“It just might be Tommy.” Technoblade tilted his head to the side, “Guess that’ll be something we ask him when we get back to the ship tomorrow.”

“Well, this trip is going to be way more fun than I thought.” Wilbur snickered lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag, before letting the smoke curl out of his mouth and up into the rafters. ~~~

Tag List: @v01dw4lk3rz, @jam-bombs, @abovenyx, @glitterydigitalart, @phoenixaesthetic19, @luluwinchester, @boiled-onionrings, @pastelmoonwitche, @roxy3457, @alovestruck-fool, @victory-is-here, @mack4676, @fiorenc, @theoneandonlyyeti, @bloodrose0723, @sandyy-woo,

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

you were shunned and burned your cradle

Newsies Gen PG 4,365 words AO3 Living in New York isn't easy for a boy on his own. It's worse for Crutchie between his leg and the air itself trying to poison him. But things really can only go up.  For @i-got-personality as part of @newsies-secret-santa! You said you like Crutchie, canon era, and any kind of magic and well I hope that you like this!

Being a changeling in New York City hurts. It makes his skin itch and his lungs burn and his eyes water. From the iron that surrounds him, fills the very air along with the smoke. If he’s not careful when he reaches out or brushes against something his skin comes away with a sharp, searing scar.

Being a changeling hurts in a different way too. Knowing that, for whatever reason, his mother gave him up. That a human baby was far preferable to him and so he was left in some other child’s crib. To make matters worse, he was given up twice. That hurt even more.

On his crueler days, the ones filled with self-loathing, he blames himself. That it was some personal failing, his bum leg perhaps, that made his mother exchange him. That the same failing is why the woman who believed herself his mother threw him out onto the street. Logically, he knows this isn’t the case. For one, he remembers what happened to his leg and it involved an iron poker that proved to his mother he wasn’t really hers as fear burned in her eyes.

Being a changeling in New York hurts and it’s hard too. Trying to grow, to thrive, in a city that was made in opposition to your very nature. It’s even harder when you’re just a kid. When you’re living on the streets. His first few nights are the worst. He’s cold and hungry and tired and he hurts. Oh does he hurt.

Being a changeling is no walk in the park, though ironically walks in the park help some. Help a lot. Until he tires. But being a changeling in a city as big as New York means you’re not alone. Well, you’re never alone but there’s others too. If you know how to spot them.

He’s been sleeping in doorways and sneaking food from market stalls – but not begging, whether an innate part of being a one of the Folk or an innate part of himself he did not want or need anyone’s pity – for a few weeks when he sees her. She’s tall, very tall and with the tatters her skirts are in he’s able to see the pale pink of her calves from knee to muddy leather boots. It’s not a normal pink, not like the glimpses of his own cold cheeks in shop windows, but the dusty pink of a rose. Her fingers are the same color as she waves and calls, catching passersby’s eye and gesturing to the basket of flowers on her arm. The violets match her thick, plated hair and the bluebells her bright, solid-colored eyes.

He stops, shocked on the other side of the street, when he sees her. A cart and then trolley pass between them and still he can’t tear his gaze away. She’s smiling at him once the street is clear, wide and kind. The light almost sparks off her pointed teeth. She winks and crooks a long, thin finger to him. He crosses without another thought, barely managing to remember how to even walk before he’s in front of her.

“Hello little one,” she coos, tilting his chin up so he can meet her gaze. Her pink fingers then trail through his hair, straightening it, before running down to brush over his shoulders and tug lightly at his vest. This close he sees that she has small white flowers woven into the braid of her purple hair. They look like stars in a twilight sky and he’s fairly certain they sparkle too.

“Hello, miss,” he manages to reply.

Her grin sharpens. “You’re a polite young man. And that smile! Sweeter than stolen cream.”

At those words he can’t help but preen. “Thank you, miss. I quite like your hair myself. I’ve-” he stumbles, tightening his grip on the crutch under his arm, “I’ve never seen hair that color.”

Eyes widening, she straightens. “My, you’ve not met one of your own before, have you?”

“No, miss,” he shakes his head, hair flopping into his eyes. He reaches up to brush it back but she’s faster. Brushing it away with her rosy fingers again.

“But you know our ways?” She says it like a question but the flash of her eyes makes it a challenge.

He straightens, feeling so proud it borders on smug. “Never give your true name, always be polite, and nothing is a gift.”

Her head tilts and he honestly can’t tell if she’s thrilled or disappointed. Though they both know it’s not all the ways of the Folk, just the important ones. The ones the humans know in order not to err on their bad side. But for a changeling like him, it’s a good start and all true. That’s another thing he knows, the Folk cannot lie.

“Very good little one. You may know, but I doubt you have much practice. Let us strike a bargain, shall we?” Again, her head tilts and more than her long limbs or resemblance to a garden or sunset, this looks the oddest to him. Sets her apart from the humans still buffeting them on the busy street.

“Only be it fair and true,” he replies on instinct. Because, there’s nowhere else it could have possibly sprung from.

Pride and amusement has her spine straightening as she nods. “My proposition is thus; you give me the two buttons from your vest and I shall weave you a crown that will never wilt. That will remind you of who you are.”

He has to think about it, faerie bargains are notoriously tricks meant to cheat the person hapless enough to make one. There are normally catches and clauses. There are twists and double meanings and you always, always lose more than you gain. Yet, this seems simple. Straightforward. And it would be rude to say no.

“A trinket for a trinket,” he says, stalling.

She inclines her head. “A mortal trinket for a faerie trinket. A piece of a life that was and will be again.”

His heart and mind catch on that last bit but to puzzle it out could take all day and he’s getting hungry. He was trying to find food when he saw her in the first place. It’s a risk, but a benign one. “My two buttons for a flower crown woven by you that will never wilt.”

Again, her smile is sharp. But her knife his sharper as she leans forward and cuts the buttons from his vest, hand moving quickly to cup them before they can do more than fall from the fabric. She slips them into the folds of her skirt, her knife disappearing too. Just as quickly she begins to pluck flowers from her basket with her too long, stick thin fingers and begins to weave them into a crown and in a blink it’s on his head.

“May you wear it in good health,” she says and it’s a blessing he didn’t bargain for. His stomach twists and he nods; remembering not to thank her at the last moment. She flashes one last grin as she turns away, her skirts flaring out, and walks down the sidewalk.

He manages to not lose his flower crown as he falls in with a group of satyrs living in Battery Park, though he leaves after a few weeks when he learns the fish they always have for dinner comes straight from the aquarium in the castle. He goes back to sleeping in doorways and on fire escapes after that. He’s hungry all the time but he can never be sure if it’s his nature or his circumstances that cause it.

Eventually, his clothes become too thin and short, showing off his wrists and legs and strips of his stomach. Sleeping on fire escapes has a new bite as the fabric begins to cover less and less and more and more of his skin is exposed to the iron. The worst is how tight his boots have become, pinching and squeezing at his toes. He refuses to go barefoot though, not because of the cold but because it reminds him too much of the others. The women who walk on the breeze and become one with the trees. The men who blink at him before disappearing into shadows and around corners. The beings and creatures who pinch and poke and trick and steal and cackle and dance, dance, dance in between the oblivious crowds.

He finally manages to trade with an immigrant family from the Lower East Side, not feeling sad to hand over the last items his mother gave him in exchange for shoes that are just a hair too big and clothes that keep his skin from the sparking itch of his fire escape beds.

It’s this sleeping arrangement that gets him in trouble. Faeries are meant to be swifter, stronger than humans. But with his crutch he’s not able to outrun the police. A shopkeeper reports him for vagrancy and even his charms aren’t able to keep the police from dragging him to the Refuge.

Another boy, a newsboy, sees this from a little ways down the street. He freezes and his face darkens. His face with its too sharp angles and too bright eyes. The boy is moving before he has the time to process this, making a messy grab for a trinket from a nearby vendor’s cart, dropping his papers in the process. The police notice – everyone on the block notices – and grab him. The boy struggles but it’s a show, he can tell it’s just for show, and soon they’re both being lifted into the wagon.

The trial is short, the other boy cocky, and the warden at the Refuge cruel. At least here he has a bed, a real bed, for the first time in years. The other boy smooth talks his way into getting the one next to him.

“You can call me Jack, Jack Kelly. Though some of the boys call me Cowboy too,” he says with a quicksilver smile.

He raises a skeptical brow, his thoughts catching on the phrasing and the sharp points the boy’s ears come to. Sharp points that match his own.

“You’re like me,” he says instead of giving his name. He knows better than to give anyone his name. He knows Jack certainly isn’t this boy’s.

“Depends on what you mean by that,” Jack says slyly, stretching out on the thin bunk.

“How do you do it?” He asks with genuine curiosity, leaning forward so he can lower his voice and study Jack’s pleasantly bored expression.

Confusion pulls at Jack’s brow. “Do what?”

“Work as a newsboy.” It wasn’t obvious? “They lie all the time to make money.”

The quicksilver is back. “I never lie. I just embellish the truth. Tell a story. The facts are there, just maybe not all the facts. If it weren’t true, I couldn’t say it.” Jack shrugs and it’s an odd motion since he’s laying on his back with his hands propped behind his head. Made odder by the fact that it seems almost graceful. “It’s not so bad. Get to go all over the city and the lodging house means you’ve got a bed if you can afford it.”

He frowns at the non-sequitur. It deepens when he realizes it’s an abrupt topic change. “We’re stuck here and you’re offering me a job?” he can’t keep all the disbelief out of his voice. Even if he hadn’t checked, he could feel that the windows and doors were barred with thick iron rods.

“I’ll be out of here by dawn, question is if you’re coming with me?”

For a solid minute he weighs his options. The Refuge with its coldness and crying children. Jack with his silver tongue and faerie arrogance.

When they manage to sneak out into the courtyard a few hours later they’re met by the boys who helped break the lock and distract the guards. The first causes him to stop, he’s so obviously a sprite that the scowl is the only thing keeping him from laughing. The other is mortal and chomping on an unlit cigar, the scent of which still makes him wrinkle his nose. The four slink out and into an alley before twisting around the block and through another back alley until they’re farther and farther away.

“We’re even now, Kelly,” the sprite finally growls once the sky begins to lighten.

“A deal’s a deal, Spot.” Jack offers his hand, spitting into it first. If he hadn’t already figured the boy was one of the Folk that would have confirmed it. The spit shake marks him as a newsie. Spot turns to him and the mortal, nodding at them both before turning off a side street and disappearing.

“Bell’s gonna ring soon,” the boy says, almost nervous as he bounces on his toes and glances down the street. His eyes dart to where Spot disappeared to, then to him, and finally back to Jack.

“And we’ll be there, right new kid?” Jack raises a brow at him. It’s a taunt.

“Course,” he replies. No bargain was struck, no deal made, but he is in Jack’s debt and they both know it.

Jack nods, smiles, and turns back to the mortal. “Go get in line, Race. Make sure Weasel don’t give us no grief for being late.”

Race, apparently, grins around the cigar and takes off running. Maybe that’s where the nickname comes from.

“You can trust Racetrack,” Jack tells him vaguely as they follow, “he’s good people.”

Or maybe that’s not where the nickname comes from.

In the next few weeks, he learns the ins and outs of selling from Jack. And of “charming folks” though truthfully, it’s just magic. Jack starts calling him “Kid” and the other newsies “Crutchie” and he doesn’t really care because neither are his name and that’s what matters. The night in the Refuge isn’t the first or last Jack spends there, but it is the only one that’s intentional. He works harder to repay Jack who seems less and less inclined to care.

Finally, he feels they’re even when he manages to discover the nook in the corner of the roof of the lodging house. The air is still filled with smoke and iron but not the smell and sounds of mortal boys. He takes careful trips up with bedding and supplies until he feels it’s suitable. Sleeping under the stars just feels right and he can tell Jack agrees by the expression on his face when he sees it.

They grow close. The other newsies learn he can predict the weather with startling accuracy and say it must be thanks to his leg, he never corrects them. They talk as the city chokes them, about going to someplace that’s nothing but stars. The money comes in fits and starts as he grows into his own sharp features. The other Folk avoid him but mortals feel almost compelled to buy his papers. Stories come in across the river of a young newsie rising through the ranks of Brooklyn and ruling with an iron fist. They don’t tell any of the others that the rumors sound an awful lot like the stories of Court drama they hear.

He keeps his own crown in the bag at his hip, as unchanging as the day he received it. Though now, years later and clothes traded and swapped and bought he misses the buttons she took. Misses having something that reminds him of the place he used to believe was home. For even his crutch is different, having long outgrown the original.

They’re teenagers too soon, a blink in their long lifetimes. With it comes something they don’t expect, an odd almost awed respect from the others. Except Race but he never counted. He’s tied up in Brooklyn as a rule and so is exempt. They never sought the power they seemingly have, power different than that which they were born with, and they discover it in the most dramatic way.

It starts with a raise in prices. A raise which isn’t fair, and they of all people would know. Jack is outraged, he is angry too but in a colder way.

The new boy, the one who either didn’t heed the stories of the old world or else his family hadn’t passed them on – and that did happen as people sought to keep the good and leave the monsters behind when they came to America and never would they imagine to find so many pretty ones in the center of the city – and offers his name as though it was on a platter. Even his little brother gives a nickname. But Jack had been kind and called him Davey and the others had too, much to Davey’s unknowing chagrin.

The new boy, Davey, matches Jack in his heat, at least momentarily, offering the spark to Jack’s powder and unknowingly unleashing that power.

When Jack says they should strike, they strike.

He finally understands the appeal of the Courts for the first time.

“Do you think she’s really going to show up tomorrow?” he asks that night on the rooftop, head still spinning from the rush of their decision. The thrill had dampened slightly after Jack told him of Spot’s reluctance to join them. Understandable, why would he want to risk losing the grip he kept on the tight leash he had over Brooklyn? And he didn’t owe Jack anymore. But this was as much for them as for the mortals. Righting a wrong against oneself was practically faerie law. Though the girl reporter was an intriguing thought and a twist even he hadn’t seen coming.

“I think so,” he can hear Jack’s smirk in the dark. “She told me her name was Katherine Plumber.”

“Really?” He’s surprised, the way she’d eyed him he thought she’d know better.

“Least it’s the name she publishes under,” Jack is almost proud.

“Clever,” he says happily.

“Too bad your charm doesn’t work in print,” Jack teases.

“I don’t need glamour to be charming. The smile’s just icing.”

Jack laughs, the sound floating up over the rooftops. “Good thing she’s bringing a camera.”

He grins up at the stars.

Like any war there are casualties. Unfortunately, he is one of them. Being back in the Refuge again is hard. The time stretches and shrinks in ways he never imagined possible and somehow he knows decades, centuries later he will look back on this and still wonder. The scent of iron is so heavy it’s dizzying and the press of bodies so close it makes everything seem small. These mortals with iron in their blood and salt on their skin surrounding him on all sides. He has the crown, somehow he has the crown. His crown. It marks him as other and for a time, some measure of time, he feels even more alone. So different from these humans serving penance without crime with him.

He takes it out one night, straining to see the pale petals in the paler light of the moon when that changes. The crown proves he is not alone. The faerie woman, the flower seller, took what was never his to begin with and gave him his true home. His first taste of community. Of finding others like himself. Of finding Jack with his silver tongue and smile. Of the newsies of Lower Manhattan with their bright spirits and easy laughs in the face of the City. Of righteous Davey and mischievous Les and clever Kath. Even of Spot and his politics and power games. He found his birthright in the world he was forsaken to and that realization rekindles something within, twisting the crown in his hands.

He feels less alone, turning his charm back on as the sun rises. Knowing that he is just one of hundreds here in the Refuge feeling like this. Uses his charm to learn that there are some who can get messages in and out. Others who can get him supplies. And in the night, despite complaints from his fellows for the candlelight, he writes to Jack urging him to not let his own fire go out.

He knows they’ll win, has never been in doubt of it. Jack said they would and Jack can’t lie. But he knows Jack, and knows that not being able to tell a lie does not mean you can’t lie to yourself. So, he writes and hopes that it gets to Jack in time.

The time slips and spins and he sleeps and waits and imagines and remembers and nearly misses a name being called. A name that was never really his but he took before he could talk and he hasn’t heard in so long he’d honestly almost forgotten it. The others part for him as he carefully makes his way to the stairs that will lead him to the ground floor and the door out of this place. He is thankful for his faerie grace as he moves with so many eyes on him, his crutch catching on the uneven floorboards but he walks with his head high. Walks right out the door. He’s not the only one to do so, but he is the first.

Relishing in the ability to breath in the wind again, he rides in the governor’s open topped carriage taking in lungfuls of it. Even when it carries the stale scent of trash and the river. His smile is so wide it almost hurts and he nearly forgets to smooth the points his teeth have grown into with the giddiness humming like magic under his skin. The people on the street stare to see such a grubby looking boy riding alone in such finery and he lets them, waving a bit and laughing to think that all this was done just for him. There’s a strange metaphor all tied up in it somewhere. A riddle he’ll spend the time puzzling out later. Right now he just breathes.

Seeing the crowd turn at the sound of hooves and whistles and the governor’s gesturing sends his heart speeding. He accepts the excitement buzzing throughout it and between his ears as some of the boys rush the carriage, holding out hands in silent offers to help him down. For once, he accepts. Jack’s grinning up on the small stage above the door to The World – another twisted metaphor for another time – but he quirks a brow too. Knowing he only allows this because so much focus has passed on to question about the police wagon that has followed behind him the whole way.

He makes a face at Jack in silent response before letting his own pride takeover. He spins and gestures to the wagon where police officers are herding out a man. Herding out the man who runs the Refuge. Who ran the Refuge. He can almost feel his excitement pricking at his fingers in the same way iron does as the governor agrees to let him do the honors. The feeling overpowers the actual feel of the iron manacles as he clamps them on the man’s wrist, letting his glamor slip and his smile turn cruel for just a blink in the process.

The celebrating ends sooner than expected, though that isn’t entirely true. Despite the newsies lining up and taking their papers, they all still chatter and cheer. Bubbling up and over at their win. Jack is talking with Spot, Davey, and Kath when he comes over after getting his own stack for the morning. Spot gives him a significant nod before spit shaking hands all around and heading off with his lieutenants. Racetrack trailing behind. It’s an odd mirror of their first meeting and he brushes the thought away as another problem for another time.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” Kath says as she hugs him. He’s come to realize that she’s special in more ways than one. Her possession of the Sight just part of a larger enigma. Her willingness to pull him into her and easy offers of friendship another. He doesn’t argue though, squeezing her right back.

Davey offers a hand to shake once she frees him and a cautious smile. The caution has nothing to do with him though and everything to do with Davey’s own contradiction filled nature. “You were missed,” he says earnestly. Swatting at his little brother who begins babbling exactly how missed he was.

“So, how was the ride?” Jack slings an arm over his shoulders, wide smile as he pulls him in tight to his side.

“You struck a bargain,” he almost hisses through his own smile clenched teeth.

“We came to an agreement.” He feels more than sees Jack’s shrug.

“It was two deals,” Davey corrects with a stern turn to his mouth and a flash in his eyes. “Jack made two deals with Pulitzer.”

He pulls away, brushing off Jack’s hold. He stares hard at the other boy. Dares him to say something and damn himself. Say nothing and damn himself even further.

“The first was a deal only we could make,” Jack says smoothly. He doesn’t blink and his sharp features become sharper with the seriousness that overtakes him. He understands immediately. It was hard. It was cruel. And it doesn’t matter what exactly it was and who gave what because in the end Jack walked away with what mattered most.

“And the second?” he prompts.

Jack shrugs again, shares a glance with the others, and smirks. “We won.”

Truthfully, he should have expected that. He rolls his eyes. Later, under the stars and the smoke, breathing in as little iron as they can he’ll ask again. He’ll find out what he did to convince Spot. What the terms of the bargain were. Of both bargains. And whether Jack was going to tell Davey their true nature, since there was no point in telling Kath. They have all the time in the world to leave the city and see the stars. These people they’ve turned into a home have only a lifetime and he’s already decided that he’s going to make the most of it.

End notes can be found on ao3. Please leave a comment and lmk what you think there as well! :)

[mimiswitchywrites]

Not A Burden: Chapter 7

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering).

Master list or read on AO3

1.8k words

If you want to be tagged for updates, message me or comment!

One more chapter tomorrow and then a week or so of hiatus while I sort some life stuff out

--------------

Merlin had been dreaming about a certain sandy haired royal for the last few weeks and he couldn’t figure out if he loved it or hated it. It made serving him far harder than it needed to be as all he could think about was the way dream Arthur had pinned him to his desk as he cleared it or how dream Arthur would give him the day off so they could go to the market together and how real Arthur would never do something like that. Real Arthur could barely look at him, let alone want to go out in public with him like that. On the other hand, dream Arthur was really fucking hot, and Merlin enjoyed that. He knew he could never have real Arthur, so it made him happy to at least have a version of him at night.

Was that sad? Maybe a little.

But, regardless of his feelings towards these dreams, he did not appreciate them being interrupted. Especially not by his frantic father-figure. Especially not when Dream Arthur had just got onto his knees and was beginning to undo the ties on Merlin’s breaches…

Gaius was rather insistent that Merlin wake up and help him find Miriam who, he guessed as he hadn’t really been listening properly, had vanished. He threw on yesterday’s clothes, too tired to look presentable, and made his way into the main chamber where, unsurprisingly, the spare cot was empty. He sighed, giving into the fact that he wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep, and ran out the door to ask the guards at the bottom of the stairs if they had seen her. Well, tried to run. Instead, he ended up inches from headbutting Miriam and, Lancelot? The latter of which seemed to be leaning in for a kiss that the former looked as if she really didn’t want to partake in.

He heard Gaius sigh from inside the room and settle down to get started on the days work. After letting the poor girl hurry inside and close the door behind her, Merlin decided to have some fun (it was only fair after such a rude start to the morning which Lancelot had played his part in.)

He started with a raised eyebrow, something he was getting far better at after being on the receiving end of Gaius’ for so long. The love-struck knight stuttered, trying to form a feeble defence.

“You know, out of all the knights, I thought you were the most responsible. Kidnapping a sick, defenceless young maiden? Whatever would the king say?” He bit his tongue to keep from laughing at Lancelot’s reddening face. He cracked, snorting unceremoniously and slapping the man’s arm in the hopes of getting him to lighten up a little.

“Relax, my friend, I don’t tell Arthur of every person his knights sneak off with – I would be there for years on Gwaine alone.” Lancelot finally let out a small laugh, still hot with embarrassment.

“I apologise if we worried you, I meant to have her back before you woke but we got… distracted.” He drifted off, thinking about how beautiful the shadows her lashes had cast on her cheeks as they watched the stars were.

“Distracted?” Merlin gave him a look that said: ‘you-know-how-much-that-sounds-like-you-took-a-tumble-in-the-hay-right?’ and, for the umpteenth time that morning, Lancelot turned beet red. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck and stumbling over No’s and That’s Not What I Meant’s.

Merlin could only shake his head at his friend, once again clamping his mouth shut to avoid laughing at him. He loved Lancelot like a brother, but the poor man was helpless, sometimes. He shoved the man gently, finally telling him to leave and get some sleep before training started in a few hours. The flushed knight (who, Merlin observed, matched the red of Camelot’s banner remarkably) made his way down the stairs, playing the night over and over, in his head.

It had not ended quite as he would have liked but gods be dammed, it was one of the best meals Lancelot had ever had. His free hand (the other still holding the picnic basket) ghosted over his lips, imagining how hers would have felt pressed against them.

--

Merlin entered the chambers, hopping into his room to prepare himself for his day with the king. Arthur would be holding a council meeting that afternoon so Merlin had to brush up on the topic (they would be discussing solidifying more roads between Camelot and its villages to help with trade, he was falling asleep just thinking about it) and he still needed to wash off the sweat from his dreams the previous night.

He made his way down to the kitchens first, parchments about the roads under his arm, and gathered the King’s breakfast, and an extra roll and sausage for himself. He overheard Cook muttering about how she needed more hands around and that one of her ‘good for nothing’ staff had stolen the excess that was meant to go to the dogs. He kept that in mind and made his way up to the Royal Chambers, nearly tripping over on one of the many staircases, only just keeping all the food on it’s platter.

Nodding to the guards on watch, he opened the door with his elbow and shuffled in backwards, knocking over the chair that was dangerously left in the doorway. Arthur moaned from his bed (a sound that Merlin knew he would end up replaying that evening once Miriam and Gaius were asleep) and pulled his pillow over his face. After dropping the breakfast on the table, Merlin made his way to the curtains, pulling them open.

“Up and at ‘em, time to brighten the Lords’ day with your cute little face” Merlin intended to say this with a sarcastic lilt but, distracted by those mouth-watering abs, failed to.

Arthur slowly pulled the pillow from his face, a look of confusion on his features as he watched his pitiful manservant watch him in some sort of daze. The pillow went flying from his hands, bashing Merlin back to reality.

Why must such a prat be so beautiful, he pondered as he gathered the Kings clothes for the day. He chose the tighter white shirt which he knew would be soaked after training later. He blushed at the thought, hiding a grin as he rummaged through the cupboard.

Arthur groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. If Merlin had to wake him up each morning, why couldn’t it be something nice like with a kiss or his long fingers adventuring? Was that truly so much to ask? Well, to fantasise about – Arthur knew there was no way he could actually ask for that. Merlin could say no or tell someone which would lead to a civil war or him overthrowing or, even worse, he could say yes and then Arthur would be the one that had to say no to prevent the aforementioned civil war or overthrowing. Arthur quite liked his head being attached to his body, but he knew it was unlikely to stay that was if his people discovered that he had certain inclinations towards men. Merlin was incapable when it came to keeping secrets and one as big as sleeping with the king was too much of a risk.

Arthur groaned again, finally rolling out of bed and allowing Merlin to help him into his clothes. He picked at his food, giving the leftovers to Merlin because gods knew he didn’t eat enough. The boy looked exhausted and sat on the trunk at the end of Arthurs bed as he devoured a sausage (don’t you dare go there, Arthur).

Pushing out from his chair, Arthur leant back against the table, so they were facing each other.

“What’s got you so tired? Sneaking off to the whore house in the dead of night?” Gods, he hoped that wasn’t it. He didn’t like how jealousy bubbled in his chest at the thought. Merlin’s brows shot up, practically jumping off his head, and he choked on the bread roll that he had tried devouring in a single bite. The boy turned red as he struggled to breath and Arthur, being the gallant knight that he was, hit him on the back, dislodging the food and perhaps a vertebra or two. His hand lingered longer than it should have, rubbing a few gentle circles before dropping to his side.

Finally getting air into his lungs, Merlin responded, “Took me forever to get to sleep and then I dreamt all night and didn’t get any proper rest and then, before the sun had even risen, Gaius woke me to say that Miriam had gone missing.” At that, Arthur straightened, worrying about the girl. Merlin noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed, and eyes drifted to the door and so added, “she was okay, she snuck off with Lancelot on a date or something. He said they got ‘distracted’.” Merlin wiggled his eyebrows at this, and Arthur’s head tipped back, laughing.

“I was hoping they would return at a decent hour, I’m sorry they caused you to lose sleep. Because, well you know, you’re terrible at your job when you’re tired?” A sloppy attempt at his usual façade but Arthur was busy focusing on the purple bags under Merlin’s eyes. He wanted to rub the pad of his thumb over them, cupping his face. The boy really should sleep more. He would get a great night’s rest in a bed like Arthurs (especially after their activities exhausted him). Arthur turned away from Merlin, forcing himself to get his thoughts under control.

“Wait,” said Merlin, finally catching up, “you knew about this?”

Arthur paused to think about his answer. Should he not have known? He hadn’t meant to, but he’d bumped into Miriam and they had a particularly useful conversation which he was sure Merlin would be proud of. “Yes?”

“Are you asking me that?” Merlin’s lipped curled at the ends and Arthur’s heart fluttered.

“I knew, yes. I found Miriam looking out at the courtyard in a brooding stance that would put even my father to shame. We talked and I think things are mostly resolved between us. Turned out she was only up there as she got lost trying to find Lancelot, so I lead her down to him and they went off. Looked like he had a basket, so I believe they had some sort of late-night picnic. It seemed sweet, really.” He muttered the last part, craving the opportunity to take Merlin on a picnic – late-night or otherwise.

Merlin hopped off the trunk (with the grace of a drunk, new-born, calf) and closed the distance between the pair, tentatively placing his hand on his master’s bicep. “I am glad you talked; I know you were struggling with the idea of doing so.” Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin. He loved the soft blue ocean that coloured his eyes and, had they been anywhere else, been anyone else, he would spend days looking into them. But he was the King, Merlin was his servant, and Camelot was no place for such things.

“Don’t be such a girls petticoat, Merlin.” They both ignored the break in Arthur’s voice.

“Prat.” Merlin offered in response.

Arthur watched out the window as Merlin cleared their breakfast up and tidied the mess Arthur had somehow managed to create between his dismissal and waking the clot pole up. There was a comfortable silence between the two that they had mastered over the half decade of knowing each other. At some point, Arthur turned to watch his manservant as he flittered about the room, sweeping clothes under the bed with his foot and wiping shapes into the table as he cleaned it. He truly was terrible at his job and yet Arthur didn’t think he had ever been matched with someone so well.

None of his previous servants would tolerate questions such as: “So, what were you dreaming about that kept you from resting so?” Merlin stopped in his tracks (bent over the bed, arse in the air, as he put the duvet back in its place. Arthur had to bite his knuckles to avoid doing anything he would regret.) He straightened and Arthur swore he could see a blush forming.

“Nothing really, I mean, I don’t remember. Dreams are so hard to remember and all that, right? I don’t remember. Uh,” he cleared his throat, “why?” A pause, “What did you dream about, sire?”

His previous servants most certainly wouldn’t ask something like that.

“You know what, I think I have training to lead now. We should go.” He nodded to himself, Merlin mimicking – still red – and the pair swept out of the room.

[nastybuckybarnes]

A Broken Fairytale  -  Eight

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Sold by your mother, you work as a servant for the King and Queen of Acadia. The Prince, much to his initial dismay, takes a liking to you. When a wicked woman intervenes, your life is nothing more than a prison sentence. With a war on the horizon and a betrothal to a missing Princess that he can’t escape, Bucky is forced to be the Prince -and King- that his father wants. A pawn in a bigger game than the two of you realize.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Violence, Injuries, 

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Soooooooo have this. :)

SERIES MASTERLIST MASTERLIST

~*~

“You grow restless, Child,” Erutan says from her spot by the window. You shake your head, smiling as Seileach licks your hand, her eyes playful and happy while her tail wags.

“I simply... feel as if something is missing from my life. I know not what it is and that bothers me.” She nods, smiling at you gently. “Go to town today. Gather some herbs from the old woman’s cart in the centre of town. I’ve been wanting to rest anyway.” You smile at her offer and bow your head slightly.

“Thank you. I have never been in Corona before. I have been wanting to explore the village.” She hands you a small coin purse and a little list.

“Gather what you can find. We can always go back together at a later date. But this is your journey. You must go alone.” You can sense a deeper meaning to her words but you've learned, in the few short weeks that you’ve been with the Sorceress, not to question her.

You smooth out the apron covering the skirt of your simple russet-coloured dress. Erutan had made it for you within the first day of you being with her. Her kindness and compassion towards you seem to be endless, and you cherish every moment of it.

With your head held high, you make your way out of the woods, small wicker basket in hand as you traverse the familiar path of moss-covered trees.

Above you, dark clouds roll in, signalling yet another storm is coming. You don't let that dampen your mood, not one bit. You’ve never been to the city, and your excitement is through the roof.

When the trees thin and soft chattering can be heard, you know you’re nearly there. You follow your ears until the trees are far behind you and people surround you.

It’s not like you expected it to be, that’s for sure.

The buildings are all run down and breaking, many people are sitting on street corners in nothing but rags and torn clothing, and the market square has only a few people at each stand.

You frown as you see some children huddled up on road, sharing a tiny sliver of what looks like mouldy bread.

Heart in your throat, you hurry over to the baker’s stand and buy two loaves of bread with the few coins Erutan gave you. You know she’ll be okay with it, besides, she has plenty of plants and herbs that she could trade if push comes to shove.

You crouch down carefully by the five children, smiling softly when they scoot away from you.

“It’s okay. I mean you no harm. Here, have these.” You carefully lower your basket, your heart breaking a bit as the kids gasp.

“I know it isn’t much, but it should last for a few days,” you whisper, handing them the bread. The eldest of the five, a young girl no older than eleven, takes the bread with a confused frown.

“Why? You wasted your money... why?” You shake your head and push the loaves into her hands.

“It isn’t a waste. Not to me. There’s nothing I’d rather spend my money on than the people less fortunate than me. You needed what this money could buy far more than I need it. Please, take them.” Tears fill her eyes and she nods, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ as she rips off pieces for the rest of the kids.

You’re about to stand up when you hear the metallic clank of armour. Slowly, you rise to your feet, head down and eyes trained on your feet as you try to find a way to escape without creating a scene. You turn to the side, fear filling you as you see the signature red and white of the Acadian knights.

“Not many would give all they have and more to the less fortunate,” a familiar voice says. You snap your head up, eyes widening as you see Steve. You nearly throw yourself at him, hugging him tightly and laughing softly.

“Steve!” He chuckles, spinning you around then carefully setting you back down on your feet. “We’ve missed you, (Y/n),” he whispers, pulling back to look at you with glossy blue eyes. You smile sadly and glance downwards.

“I’ve missed you all so much. I’m so thankful for what you’ve all done for me, helping me to freedom. I... I can’t thank you enough.” He chuckles and squeezes your shoulder.

“You’re family to us, (Y/n).” Your heart fills with warmth and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“What are you doing in Corona?” You ask, changing the subject. He sighs and glances around before leaning in closer to you.

“Many reasons. I’m here with Bucky and Sam to discuss business with the King, see if there’s anything to be done to prevent a war. Rumlow said he was on official business from the King, probably looking for you, if I’m being quite honest.” You shiver and look around, trying to find the man that wants you dead.

“I should... let you go then, I suppose,” you whisper, not wanting to leave one of the only friends you’ve ever made in your life.

“He misses you, (Y/n). A lot. Not a day goes by where you aren’t in his mind. He’s different since you left.” You sniffle, desperately fighting the tears that threaten to break free.

“Stay safe, Steve. I’ll miss you.” He nods, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

“I’ll miss you too, (Y/n). You take care of yourself. And if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to write to me. Use a different name if you must, but if you need anything, I’ll be there.” You smile, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you step around him and hurry back the way you came, emotions overwhelming you.

Steve sighs sadly, watching you rush away before turning and heading to the Palace.

He tries not to look at the people in the city, saddened by the poverty around him.

When he makes it to the Palace gates, Bucky and Sam are waiting for him, the former with a scowl on his face.

“I want to get this over with. Let’s go,” He snaps. Steve and Sam exchange glances then follow the brunet into the Palace.

Bucky heads straight to the Throne room where he knows the King is, while Sam and Steve linger behind.

“You go ahead. Make sure he doesn’t say anything he’ll regret,” Steve says, smiling as the man rushes after the young Prince.

Steve takes his time walking around the long-forgotten halls of the Corona Palace, stopping when he hears a voice singing a shockingly familiar song.

“.... where the moon is made of gold, and in the morning sun we’ll be sailing...” The Queen seems to fade out of her daze and smiles sadly at Steve.

“Hello, Steven. It has been a while.” He nods, offering her his arm, which she takes with a bow of her head. “We have a war on the horizon, don’t we?” She asks softly, a faraway look in her eyes. Steve sighs and nods, “we do, most likely.” She nods, humming to herself.

“My daughter is probably so very beautiful. You know, when she was born we had a sorceress give her a necklace. It’s enchanted with a spell and engraved. It allows only her to touch it. It burns those who try to take it. We figured it would be something good for her to have, in case she ever found herself lost. It hasn’t seemed to help, though...” She trails off and looks down the hallway while the blood drains from Steve’s face.

“Y-you say she had an enchanted necklace?” He asks weakly. The Queen only hums, pulling him further down the hallway. “The King grows weary. He knows that we cannot stop the war. We will fall, and there is nothing that can be done until my daughter is found.”

“Your Majesty!” A female voice calls. Steve glances over his shoulder, smiling sadly as Pepper rushes down the hallway.

“Come, we must bring you back to your room.” She takes the Queen’s other arm and Steve watches as the two of them walk down the hall towards a series of doors.

He turns on his heel and sprints out of the Palace, desperate to find you and bring you to the Palace where you belong.

~*~

You approach the cottage, a smile on your face as you remember Steve’s kind words.

The forest around you is eerily silent, but you pay no mind to it, simply putting it to the oncoming storm. When you reach the cottage, you know something isn’t right.

Seileach isn’t rushing out to greet you the way she normally would. You hesitantly push the door open, dropping the basket to the floor and holding your hand to your face at the scene before you.

Erutan is crumpled on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on her forehead.

“Erutan!” You cry, sliding to your knees in front of her and fluttering your hands helplessly around her head.

“Run, child. I’ll be fine. It’s you they’re after. You must leave. Head for the Palace and don’t look back. Seileach and I will be alright, don’t worry. Just run. Run and don't you dare look back.” She pushes you with a surprising amount of force and you stumble back, grabbing handfuls of your dress and turning to sprint out of the cottage.

You’re running as fast as you physically can, fear pushing you harder than you thought possible as you jump over roots and fallen logs.

“I hear something! This way!” A man’s voice shouts from behind you. You run faster, adrenaline and absolute terror filling you as you run through the familiar trees.

You can hear them gaining on you, and you can’t help but glance over your shoulder.

The Acadian colours are running after you. Men of the King, no doubt. The one’s Steve was telling you about.

Your foot catches on a fallen tree and you go spiralling to the ground, catching yourself on your palms. A sharp pain shoots from your right wrist and you wince, pushing yourself to your feet and starting to run again.

It’s no use, though. In a matter of steps, the heavy body of a man is bringing you down to the ground.

“Thought you could get away, didn’t you?” A man pants in your ear, his warm breath on your neck making you want to throw up.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He rolls you onto your back and grins a yellow smile at you. You struggle against him, thrashing in his hold as he brings his hands to your throat.

He presses hard, cutting off your airflow. You reach up and claw at his face, scratching red trails that blossom with fresh blood.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” He snarls, lifting one hand only to bring it down hard against your cheek, your fighting lessens for a moment of bright pain before resuming.

He continues pressing hard on your windpipe and your vision grows dark, your struggles gradually ceasing.

You’re about to give up and succumb to the comforting darkness when his weight is suddenly lifted from you.

You roll onto your side, panting and gasping for breath, your vision slowly returning to normal enough to see two figures quarrelling on the ground not five feet from you.

You push yourself onto your forearms and catch your breath, squinting to try and make out the two figures in front of you.

You catch a glimpse of a familiar head of blond hair and your eyes widen.

Steve.

You stand up, stumbling a few steps as your heart furiously pumps blood to your head.

You’re about to call out for Steve when you’re suddenly being grabbed from behind, hands covering your mouth.

Two more men join in on the fight and Steve’s quickly overpowered, crumbling to the ground in a heap after a particularly nasty blow to the head.

“Bring her back to the old witches cottage. I wanna take my time defiling her and I want the Prince here to watch,” the man who was strangling you says, a wicked grin on his face as he watches you struggle against the arms restraining you.

~*~

[tact-and-impulse]

At Arm’s Length Chapter 14

*dojo door slams open* Dad’s home.

Thank you for your patience! Now that this is the last installment correlating to the Kyoto arc, the next chapter will be an interlude before we hop onto the angst train. I know it took a long time for this update, and this past year has been a struggle, given I had to prepare for a major exam (which I passed, so that’s something!) and the current state of the world. The events of this chapter cover Kaoru’s childhood to the Seinan war, including several traumatic events. Content warnings for death of a parent, depictions of war, PTSD, death of a spouse, and depictions of hospitalization. Let me know what you think, and please take care of yourselves.

Chapter 14: Becoming a Father

When he emerged from Commissioner Kawaji’s office, Koshijiro let exhaustion take over. He had stayed awake two hours past midnight to finalize his evacuation plan, and the entire morning had already flown by due to the commissioner grilling him on the details. He had fended off the questions with varying degrees of success, until he was dismissed with a scowl.

He returned to his desk, settled in his chair, and closed his eyes. Just for a minute…

“Officer Kamiya, we received a message requesting backup.” Shinichi nervously interrupted his rest.

He shook off the lethargy, to see the rookie. Occasionally, the young officers were called on for assistance, and Koshijiro had to accompany them as their direct superior. “Please tell me the details on the way there. Let’s head over.”

There was a clash at the fish market, reportedly between two rival gangs. The details of the feud were unknown, but both sides were agitated and aggressive. Shouts and crashes could be heard from a block away. As Koshijiro and the others approached, the noise intensified. The scene was chaotic. Men were exchanging blows and throwing various items at each other. Bloodied faces drifted in and out among the mob, along with the uniforms of officers. The rookies immediately launched themselves into the fray, disappearing in a matter of moments.

A flash of red barreled towards Koshijiro’s right, and he instinctively caught…an octopus. His arm held the creature to his chest, and its tentacles curled around his sleeve and towards his neck. Gingerly, he set it in a nearby bucket of water, and it wriggled in relief. Now that he looked closer, some of the thrown items were raw seafood.

But not all.

A sword swung towards Koshijiro, the rusty edge aiming for his temple, and he ducked. His right hand fell to his bokken, as he analyzed his opponent. A shorter, stockier man with a gap-toothed grin and a death wish, apparently. Koshijiro drew his bokken, moving into a defensive position.

It wasn’t difficult to read his movements, and when the man attempted an overhead swing, Koshijro blocked. The force was intense, and he had to widen his stance. However, that set him up perfectly for the next move. With an inhale, he pushed back, lifting his back foot off the ground to hook around the man’s knee. The man gave a startled exclamation as his feet turned inward, and Koshijiro disengaged. His opponent threatened to fall forward and that left him open for a strike at the sensitive point behind the elbow. The man’s grip spasmed, but even if he could somehow shake off the numbness, Koshijiro was already following through with another blow to the back of the head. Koshijiro watched him go down, and the immediate handcuffing by Officer Abe, who was on standby.

“Whoa, Kamiya-san, that was awesome!”

“Well, I’m glad it worked. I’ve been thinking over this maneuver for some time.” He was rather proud of his success, and confidently, he moved on.

In total, fifty people were arrested, jailed, and scheduled for questioning. He had volunteered for the last shift of interrogation and didn’t return home until past midnight. Koshijiro prepared for bed, and every movement was abnormally loud. Once he had closed his eyes, his ears rang from the eerie silence.

How long had it been since they were gone? June was already coming to a close. Kaoru’s birthday was at the end of the week and he was in Satsuma for her last one. Their usual celebration was a nice dinner, but he felt like this one should be grander, to make amends. He would have to think of something soon…as a testament to how tired he was, he fell asleep mid-thought.

When he woke, he scrambled for the time and realized he was running late. The train would arrive soon, and he had promised to be at the station. He skipped breakfast and broke into a sprint as he drew closer, but he made it to his destination. Tokio rose from a bench, lifting her little son.

“Kamiya-san, thank you for being here. Are you alright?”

He took a moment to catch his breath. “Yes, I’m fine. I see the train’s here?” The locomotive seemed to be giving a long exhale, the turning of the wheels slowing with each cycle.

“Yes, but they must be checking the passengers before they let them out.” She adjusted her hold on Tsutomu, his sleeping face squished against her collar.

They watched the disembarking people and scanned the faces for a boy of the right description. Finally, he stepped out. He was about ten or eleven, and his hair was mussed from sleeping at an odd angle. Noticing their gazes, he cautiously approached, looking up at Tokio.

“Are you Fujita-san?”

“I am and this is my son, Tsutomu. Kamiya-san is my husband’s colleague.”

Koshijiro nodded in greeting. “It’s good to meet you. How was your journey?”

“Long. It wasn’t too bad until the train.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wanted to go on foot like Kenshin did, the train is too noisy.”

“You met Himura-san?”

“Yeah. He really helped me out in my village.” He became quiet, obviously remembering. “He did say, ‘Kamiya-dono will be in Tokyo, so there is no need to worry.’”

Koshijiro coughed to conceal his embarrassment. “I see. Well, I heard he made it to his destination, so there’s no need to worry about him either.”

Tokio knelt to meet Eiji at eye level. “My husband informed me that you lost your parents and brother. I’m so sorry.”

“Kenshin helped me.” Eiji stared at his feet. “He said the dead only want the living to be happy.”

“He wasn’t wrong.” Koshijiro quietly said. “Your family would want that for you.”

They walked out, and Tokio intended to treat Eiji to a well-deserved meal. She extended the invitation to Koshijiro but he had to decline. “Some other time. I’ll stop by now and then, to check in. If there’s anything you need, you can always visit the Kamiya dojo.”

On his way back, he passed a flower seller, hawking baskets teeming with small pink and white deutzia. They greatly resembled cherry blossoms and he remembered they were gone by August. He turned around and paid for one bouquet, mentally mapping out the detour to the cemetery.

Kyoko will surely love these flowers.

***

Everything about Kaoru was utterly charming. Her little yawns, the way she stretched her whole body when she woke, the downy hair capping her head, her plush grip gently enclosing his thumb. She was an energetic baby, working her fingers and flailing her limbs as if testing them out. She was more than Koshijiro and Kyoko could have asked for.

She grew quickly, and Koshijiro was loath to miss a moment. He couldn’t help but feel a little envious of Kyoko and Osue-san, who visited thrice a week to help out. The majority of his day was spent working, so when he returned home at Kaoru’s early bedtime, Kyoko encouraged him to rock their daughter to sleep. She reassured otherwise but he had felt awkward in the early days, too large and clumsy for his tiny girl. As he strolled through the house, Kaoru’s round eyes intently focused on his face before she slowly nodded off.

When she was a few months old, Koshijiro noticed a bright blue ribbon tied around her head. “Hm? What’s this?’ He asked Kyoko.

“I noticed she has a bald spot, so I thought to cover it with the ribbon.” Meanwhile, Kaoru didn’t seem to mind, happily rolling onto her belly and offering Koshijiro a smile.

He sat beside her and one pudgy hand touched his knee before she tried to lift her upper body. Her feet pushed against the tatami but she didn’t budge. As she struggled to move to his lap, her barely visible eyebrows drew together and she made a loud noise of frustration. Amused, he picked her up by the armpits and remarked. “It’s a little early for you to crawl, Kaoru, but it’s good that you’re eager.”

“She’ll be crawling soon.” Kyoko joined them, adjusting the blue ribbon so it was more secure. “And then, she’ll walk and run.”

“Not too fast for us, I hope.”

But for now, Kaoru was still small enough to hold. While their little home was cozy and quiet, it was not as peaceful outside. The disasters of the Ansei era had accumulated in the past two years: cholera raging through Edo, an earthquake in Hida, an assassination near the Sakurada gate. A treaty with the Americans had been signed, resulting in widespread discontent. With the ports open to trade, the markets and routes changed. Inflation drove costs up, as foreigners bought gold. The shogunate was proving to be increasingly unequipped to handle current issues.

Meanwhile, Koshijiro continued to teach kenjutsu. His students were eager to use real blades and threatened to leave if they couldn’t. He did his best to ensure everyone was safe, but he only had one pair of eyes. There were several close calls. After a particularly nasty duel between two students, he sent a doctor for their injuries and ended class early. When everyone had left, he sat on the freshly cleaned dojo floor, rubbing his forehead. The students were eager to fight and yes, they needed to know how to protect themselves, but was he enabling them? What would his predecessors think of him?

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He turned to see Kyoko, holding their baby daughter and beaming at him. “It’s Otou-san, Kaoru. Otou-san.”

Kaoru gave a delighted cry, waving her fist. How could he possibly be despondent?

Kyoko handed her off, and the baby’s soft cheek grazed his. She nuzzled, turning her face against his shoulder, and he held her tighter. Meeting his wife’s tender gaze, he smiled. “Thank you.”

Once Kaoru could toddle about, there was no stopping her, and she took obvious joy in being followed. Her wide smile over her shoulder was a precious thing to behold. When she’d fall, her tears weren’t out of pain but desire for comfort, for she quickly stopped once she was held. Soon enough, even those subsided, and she’d resume walking as if nothing happened.

After one such occurrence, Kyoko began to laugh. “Her face looks just like yours! So determined!”

“If that’s so, then she certainly takes after you too.” But he laughed as well.

It was during those blissful days that his father returned. He had sent a letter in advance, explaining he no longer had work in Kunitake’s area and would be transferring back home. Koshijiro personally suspected they had a falling-out but kept his reply succinct and inviting. Otou-san arrived with the summer heat, and Koshijiro stepped away from the dojo to greet him with a bow.

“Welcome back.”

“Koshijiro, it’s good to be home.” His father smiled. He was noticeably thinner, the lines on his face deeper. “Oh? Is that Kaoru-chan?”

He glanced towards the porch, to see his daughter staring at them, before she unsteadily ran into the house. “Oka! Oka!”

“Calling for her mother?” Otou-san’s tone was both amused and wistful.

“Her first word as well. Please, come in.” As he offered, he took his father’s satchel. It was surprisingly light. Had Otou-san sold his belongings…or was he kicked out?

Kyoko appeared, Kaoru clinging to her leg. “Welcome! Are you hungry at all? We can have lunch early.”

They settled him in, and the tension seemed to leave his frame. He was in his early sixties, Koshijiro thought, but his age had never shown until now. He moved slower, he slept heavier and longer, and he was not as boisterous as before. Worried, Koshijiro sent for one of Kyoko’s doctors. For the most part, Otou-san’s health was fair, but his heart was weak and they would have to keep an eye on him. Plenty of rest and a daily routine would help, and they did their best to make him comfortable. Otou-san dove into his art with full force, and more often than not, he could be found painting in the yard. He happily gave Kaoru any paper and ink she wanted to draw with, and allowed her to drum her fists against his back in a makeshift massage. He also got along well with Kyoko, who effortlessly charmed everyone in her orbit anyway. Most of his father’s paintings were sold, but if Kyoko expressed a liking for one, he would set it aside for safekeeping.

“Aha! I see the pattern now.” Otou-san clapped his hands together, after a brief survey of Kyoko’s choices. “You have a keen eye for the seasons. Spring, summer, autumn, winter.”

“Of course, and you depict them so well, Otou-sama. But do you have any preferences on what you paint?”

“Not particularly, though it’s better if everything I see remains still while I’m working.” He joked. “But that’s hardly ever the case. Such is life.” And to prove his point, Kaoru hurtled past him, running at full speed to escape a harried Osue, who was attempting to wash her face.

A few months later, they celebrated Kaoru turning three. The zori only lasted a few steps before she kicked them off with obvious relief and to Osue-san’s chagrin. Her pudgy hands held a long stick of chitose ame, which she eagerly crammed into her mouth.

“Yes, live a long, happy life, Kaoru.” Kyoko murmured. Her fatigue had been worse as of late, and she rested against Koshijiro’s shoulder.

When Kaoru dozed off too, worn out by the day’s activities, Koshijiro held her in his lap. Glancing about to make sure no one else was looking, he pressed a kiss on both of their cheeks, his wife’s cool one and his daughter’s slightly sticky one.

Now that she was old enough, Koshijiro had crafted a bokken to match Kaoru’s size, and she would follow along with morning stretches. Anything more would be too advanced, and she usually fussed when Kyoko had to pull her away. Eventually, Koshijiro noticed perforations in the rice paper, at about the eye level of a little girl. It then became a matter of catching her in the act. He listened carefully for a tiny pop, and after a moment, opened the door to find her staring up at him.

“Kaoru, did you do this?”

“No!” But she sucked in a breath and turned to run away. Koshijiro easily stepped around her.

“I’m going to ask again. Did you poke holes in the doors?”

She squirmed, her mouth petulantly twisting. “…it’s fun.”

“But it isn’t very nice. It worries me and your mother when we have to fix them. And we don’t like being mad at you. Can you be good and promise you’ll stop?” He extended his pinky finger towards her.

“Hmph.” She pouted but she linked her tiny finger with his and they shook on it.

“That’s a promise.”

Her voice was small and uncertain when she asked. “Do you hate me?”

“No, of course not. I never could, and Okaa-san feels the same way.” As the words left him, he suddenly remembered his own childhood voice, declaring that he would never be anything like his father. Gods, he must have caused Otou-san a great deal of pain and he’d never realized until now.

When he spoke with Kyoko, she insisted that they have a conversation. “You need to talk with him alone. There’s still time to make things right between you. As long as you’re alive, you can have another chance.”

He decided to do so, one morning. Otou-san was in his usual spot in the yard, trying to capture the autumn scenery with his paints. He shuffled towards the porch, spared a glance at Kyoko. She narrowed her eyes at his stalling, and urged him to keep moving with quick waves of her hand. Suppressing a sigh, he moved to stand by his father.

“That looks lovely.” He lamely nodded at the painting. What was he doing?

His father laughed. “Thank you. I know you’re not as passionate as I am about this, but I appreciate it. Is something on your mind?”

“I spoke to Kaoru about the holes in the door, and she reminded me of the past.” He slowly said. “I remember some of the unkind words I dealt to you when I was a child, and I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. As you said, you were a child and our situation was…unexpectedly complicated. But I never blamed you or your mother.” He set his brush down, resting it on a small ceramic dish with murky water. “I think if Miyo had been with us, like when you were younger, it might be easier to talk with each other. Maybe, she’d still be with us.”

The wind swept through, and a lull fell over them. Koshijiro cleared his throat, swallowing the sudden lump there. “Kyoko says people live on in the stories we tell.”

“She’s right.” He paused. “I never told you how I met your mother.”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well, it wasn’t romantic. I fell asleep by the river, while sketching. I only meant to have a nap, but when I woke up, it was morning and Miyo was standing over me. Then, I kept seeing her all the time, while I was in town. Our paths crossed frequently after that. I was happy whenever I saw her, and disappointed when I didn’t. When I found that she was looking for work, I hired her. And after that, I only fell deeper. I was sure…that we could live happily together. But Otsuna and Kunitake were jealous. I knew they were, but I raised them like my own after my cousin and wife died. I did my best, trying not to choose. Miyo never told me she was pregnant with you, and when I met you, you were almost a year old. But I couldn’t let you either of you go again. You probably don’t remember much, but despite the circumstances at the time, the famine and uncertainty, those were some of the happiest days of my life.”

Something gave in his chest at his father’s words and sober expression. Otou-san was not perfect by any means, far from it, and yet…he was only human in the end. “That time is vague in my memories but I was happy too.”

“I am sorry though. I never meant for you to be hurt by your siblings, and I did speak to them multiple times. Their harassment is a failure on my part. I don’t know where I went wrong, but please believe that I never encouraged their behavior.”

“I believe you and that it’s not entirely your fault.” He assured. “There comes a point when immaturity is no longer an excuse and I doubt they ever found it. Years ago, I would have thought it difficult to uproot the resentment I have. But I can now. I do forgive you and I think I understand you a little better now. Even more so because I have Kyoko and Kaoru.”

Otou-san looked as if he was about to cry, and he was at a loss for what to do. Almost as if on cue, the door opened to signal someone was on the porch. Kaoru darted towards them, with a wide smile. “Jii-jii!” She twirled in place, her little ponytail flying. “This new ribbon is pretty, right?”

His father nodded, voice light. “Of course! It’s the same color as a rose. And you’re pretty from head to toe. And what does your Otou-san think?”

They both turned to him, and Koshijiro cleared his throat. “Yes, Kaoru, it’s very nice. Did Okaa-san buy it for you?”

“Uh-huh. We match now! Tou-san, come see.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards the house amidst his father’s laughter. Kyoko had tied her own rose-colored ribbon in her bun, and she lifted her head from her sewing with a smile when they rejoined her at the table.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“You’re welcome. How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“Then, that’s good.” Their private conversation was interrupted by Kaoru, wondering where one of her books was.

In the evenings, Kyoko read aloud to Kaoru, who had claimed a spot to nestle between them in their futon. Koshijiro was embarrassed whenever he fell asleep to his wife’s voice, but those were rare, since Kaoru would poke his side and ask if he wanted to read next. She would try to turn the pages for him, intent on helping move their nightly story forward. She already knew a few kanji, including her name, and Koshijiro was very proud.

There was one issue that arose. One of the new books Kaoru liked was about a family, which had multiple children. The youngest was a newborn girl, and Kaoru seemed fascinated, her fingers lingering on the baby’s descriptions. Once Kyoko ended the tale, the inevitable question came.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes?”

“Where do babies come from?”

“Hmm.” Kyoko pretended to ponder over the matter. “Well, they appear when an Okaa-san and an Otou-san wish very hard.”

“Oh. So I will wish.”

“Wish for what, Kaoru?”

“A little sister!”

“That’s such a nice wish.” Kyoko mildly replied. “Now, let’s go to sleep.”

Koshijiro fervently hoped that would be the end, but as the seasons changed, Kaoru was still loudly expressing her desire for a younger sister. It became a daily inquiry, and at last, Koshijiro decided to gently break the news to her, before going to bed.

“Perhaps, you should think of a new wish. A little sister probably isn’t on its way.”

“Why not?” She demanded.

“W-well…” He stammered, thrown off guard. “It takes two people to make that kind of a request?” Kyoko immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes shut and shoulders trembling with concealed laughter. “Two adults, like me and your mother.”

“Tou-san, then wish with Kaa-san.”

What had he done to deserve this conversation? “But when a baby comes, you can’t exchange it, even if it’s a boy.”

“A little brother would be okay too, like Hitomi-chan’s.” Kaoru conceded, referring to one of her older playmates.

Thankfully, Kyoko took over, still smiling from the aftershocks. “Kaoru, we waited a very long time for you. We wished and prayed and nearly gave up. I don’t know if we can be that lucky a second time. But if you’re feeling lonely, let’s invite Hitomi-chan and your other friends over more often. And there are other children who live nearby too. Maybe, there will be someone who would like a big sister. What do you think?”

“…alright.” Over her head, Kyoko and Koshijiro exchanged relieved glances.

***

Emperor Meiji ascended to the throne, and a power struggle with the shogunate seemed imminent. Nothing in the news was particularly uplifting, a prelude to the certain turmoil.

One wintry morning, he passed by Otou-san’s room and stopped. The door was wide open, though without signs of a struggle. In the front, his father’s shoes were missing, and a quick scan confirmed that the yard was empty. A sense of foreboding overcame him. He walked past the gate, looking down the road to find a set of shallow footprints. They led to a large tree, shielding any snow from covering Otou-san’s sitting form. As he approached, the foreboding grew stronger, and it was only confirmed when he gently placed his palm upon his father’s shoulder. There was no heat at all. Otou-san’s face was perfectly tranquil, his final moments of acceptance, and Koshijiro bowed his head.

“Thank you, and goodbye. I’ll take you to Okaa-san now.”

The funeral was surprisingly crowded, with many people offering to pay their respects. It was clear that Otou-san had been respected and loved, by not only his colleagues but also the neighborhood and his fellow artists. Noticeably, there were two figures who never showed, but Koshijiro did not mind. It was best that his wife and daughter wouldn’t meet his siblings. Preferably never at all. Otou-san’s ashes were laid to rest beside the simple grave of the woman he loved, and Koshijiro blinked back sudden tears at the sight of his parents, reunited in death.

Kyoko’s familiar hand slipped into his. “It’s alright. You can cry, if you need to.” She gently said.

“Forgive me, Kyoko. I don’t know why-” He broke off, his voice shaky. He didn’t know why his composure was crumbling at this moment, when he had handled the funeral arrangements so steadily.

“Shh. I’m here, and so is Kaoru. We’re here.” Her gaze shone with her own tears, and Kaoru clung to Koshijiro’s other side, brows drawn together. They remained in a close huddle, all the way home. The house was quieter, and sometimes, there’d be an extra bowl set out by accident, but like years ago, the grief was easier to bear with time.

That spring, he was on midnight patrol, lantern in hand. A distant clamor rerouted him, and he kept one hand on the hilt of his katana as he hurried towards the shouts. A couple of shadows were already fleeing, leaving four bodies. One emitted a weak rattling cough. He drew closer and the lantern’s glow illuminated the man’s bloody face. “Hayashi?!” He checked for a pulse on his friend’s slick neck. Rapid, but present. He stabilized Hayashi, just as his colleagues rushed over.

The story was that it had been a group of ruffians, looking for anyone to rob in this economic crisis. Hayashi did survive, though at the cost of a maimed right leg. He was despondent; such an injury meant an end to kenjutsu and his service to his lord. “I’ll be thrown away, who wants a cripple for protection?”

“Don’t say that,” Koshijiro tried to persuade him. “Focus on getting better first, before returning to work.”

“As if. Just leave me to die and go back to your own dojo.” Hayashi snarled. That only served to steel Koshijiro. He wrote to Maekawa and Kikuhara, requesting their assistance, and continued to visit with food and water.

Maekawa was there within the week, and spoke nothing of kenjutsu, just boisterously singing as he cleaned Hayashi’s row house. Kikuhara was unable to do anything in person, but he sent packages of books, paintings, and other things to pass the time with. At first, Hayashi shouted at them, to the point where he wore himself out. They took meals at his bedside if he wouldn’t move and changed his dressings, and although Maekawa was skeptical that they were helping at all, Koshijiro insisted they were. Hayashi’s strength was slow to build, given his initial resistance, but he left his bed in order for them to stop nagging, as he put it, and scowled as he ate. He no longer raised his voice or spoke of dying. Despite his perpetual bitter mood, it was progress.

Koshijiro believed they were going to finally get him out of the house, only to find that the door chained in place. Hayashi had left a folded note in one of the edges. Thank you for staying with me, but I need to find my own way in life again.

A search resulted in nothing. Maekawa expressed his characteristic confidence that Hayashi would be fine, wherever he ended up, and Koshijiro reluctantly accepted that he had to trust his friend would continue to live on.

His dojo was faring well; there were many who were eager to learn how to fight or have their sons learn. At seven, Kaoru relished helping out, and he tended to ask for her to demonstrate, especially for the newcomers. She was as old as he was, when he first started learning, and with her head start, she was very good at kenjutsu and knew it. She loved being in the dojo, and although Koshijiro was proud of her enthusiasm, she did fight with some of the boys who were prejudiced towards a female classmate and mistakenly believed she was weaker. More than once, he had to break up a tussle. Punishment was dealt equally too, he didn’t want to favor his daughter and he could handle her grumpiness afterward. If she wanted to spar those boys in a designated match, however, he never objected.

Kyoko was much more apprehensive. “I’m not saying she can’t be in the dojo. I don’t want to confine her; I want her to enjoy life.” She was very firm about that sentiment, given her upbringing. “But I’m worried she’ll be hurt. It’s different for women. Men are allowed to bear scars with pride, whereas we’re expected to hide them.”

“I understand, but she’s growing up and she knows how to pick herself up when she falls. Kaoru’s resilient, like you.”

“That’s kind of you to say, dear.” It was an evasive reply. She still wasn’t mollified and fretted over Kaoru’s bruises and scrapes. Kaoru complained about the thick ointments, that most of her injuries were accidents and in the increasingly rarer fights, the dumb boys kind of deserved it. Koshijiro silently agreed with the latter point, as he bandaged his daughter up.

The majority of his students were now outside the samurai class, and somehow, word must have spread because he had a spectator who lingered after one class.

“Are you interested in joining?” Koshijiro inquired.

“It would be an honor but no. I am here as a representative of Omura.” The man smiled. “Have you heard of him?”

“Omura Masujiro? The Choshu strategist?”

“Yes, I’m glad you recognized him. But are you are aware of the cause he fights for?”

“It seems you’ll tell me regardless.”

There was the usual talk about sonno joi, or the expulsion of foreigners. But one thing caught Koshijiro’s attention. “The samurai class has abused their power and wealth for far too long. What we want is to remind them that at their core, they are no better than anyone else. To level the field, so to speak, and put an end to the four class system. Think about it, and we’ll be in town.” He provided the name of an inn they frequented and departed.

The conversation kept surfacing in Koshijiro’s thoughts. He did not believe that foreign influence was totally beneficial. The consequences of famine, economic turmoil, and disease were too severe to be ignored. Hayashi was one of many who had suffered from the growing unrest among the people. But it was too late to close the borders again. The military was already incorporating Western technology, and Choshu was offering military training to commoners. Omura’s follower spoke of humbling the samurai. Abolishing the class structure…he could accept that idea. Takaoka was supporting Satsuma and Choshu, the leaders of the rebellion. They were gathering anyone who was willing to go to Kyoto and assist in the fight to end the shogunate. A number of samurai from Oyumi were going, including Koshijiro’s direct superior, but before he could leave, he had to speak to Kyoko and Kaoru.

Kyoko responded first. “Of course, I want you to stay and be safe. If you leave, you might never return. But…” She stared at her own hands, wrapped around her teacup. A few wisps of hair escaped from behind her ear, and he reached over to tuck them back. “You feel very strongly about this.” With an inhale, she firmly straightened and met his gaze. “Promise us you’ll survive.”

“I promise. Will you and Kaoru be alright?”

Their daughter hadn’t said anything yet, her eyes wide as she looked at them. Kyoko reached for her hands, drawing her closer.

“Kaoru and I will be fine. I’m certain we won’t be the only women left behind either. We’ll manage and welcome you home when you return.”

“We’ll be here, Otou-san, don’t worry about us.” Kaoru’s voice was subdued, but she attempted a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll be home again before you know.”

He had been very naïve.

***

His first experience with war could never be forgotten. From the march on foot to the first battle cry in earshot, it all stayed with him. Most of the early days blurred together, leaving the impression of sore feet and shoulders. But when they reached Kyoto, the adrenaline surged within him and his fingers shook as he loaded his gun.

One moment, it was quiet. The next, commands were shouted down the line, and then, there was cracking gunfire and smoke. The soldier next to him was struck by a bullet. The man in front was cut down, blood seeping through his uniform. Behind him, an enemy cannonball landed on people he couldn’t name but their screams of agony echoed forever.

It was madness. Every day was a fresh ordeal.

The first time he killed a man, it was with his sword. It had been a long day, and his opponent was too slow for one moment. That was all it took, Koshijiro’s blade sinking deeper than either of them expected. The man’s features slackened, and Koshijiro knew he was already gone. The body twitched several times, before finally falling as the sword was removed. Koshijiro’s feet were planted to the ground, which was gradually darkening in color.

I’m sorry.

The words died on his tongue, as a bullet flew past, the sound deafening and reminding him that to stay still in battle meant death. He couldn’t linger, he had to keep moving. He had promised Kyoko and Kaoru he would come home to them, and that became his anchor on the battlefield. Even if doing so meant that he had to feel hollow for all of the rest.

***

“Otou-san? Otou-san?”

Koshijiro jolted. Kaoru was standing before him. When had she approached? He hadn’t noticed.

She beamed at him. “We’re having lunch now.” The sunlit yard stretched behind her, and he gripped the edges of the porch.

He had been home for a week, yet nothing felt real. He should be happy, he was alive and not in bad shape. Many men had not returned at all. But he felt like part of him had been left behind on the battlefield, drifting aimlessly and pulling the rest of him with it until a loud noise startled him and then he was on edge. It wore him out; he was constantly tired, despite waking well after sunrise. And there were the nightmares. He didn’t feel right.

Things had changed in Chiba too. Osue had succumbed to pneumonia in his absence, and he had already paid numb respects to the faithful old woman. Kyoko was understandably melancholy, not helped at all by how her illness had taken a turn. She was on bedrest, and her medicines had increased in quantity. Neither of them were sure how well they were working.

“We met a woman who teaches kenjutsu.”

“You did?”

“Her name is Chiba-san, as in the Chiba clan. Kaoru and I were buying groceries, and she was in her uniform. She was kind enough to invite us to her afternoon lesson. Kaoru really enjoyed it, so I feel more at ease.”

“Then, you can attend her lessons more often. It would be good for Kaoru.” He hadn’t been teaching, he wasn’t ready. Kyoko understood, but Kaoru clearly missed it. Even though she liked Chiba-san’s lessons, he overheard the two of them talking, while they thought he was having a nap.

“Is Otou-san going to be okay?”

“I don’t know yet, Kaoru.”

“He doesn’t talk about the war. It must have been scary.”

“It would be better not to ask. There are some things your father can’t share with us, that he wants to shield us from.” Kyoko evenly said. “When it’s time, he’ll share.”

“And what if he never does?”

“Then, that’s alright. We’ll be here to support him, just like always. He’s still your Otou-san, no matter what.”

“Oh. I get it now.”

His sight flooded and he doubled over. Kyoko and her infinite patience! And his innocent daughter, whose feelings were hurt. Here he was, being pathetic. He didn’t step out to acknowledge them, but he resolved in his heart that he would try to return to normal.

He wrote a routine for himself, including meditation and what to think of to pull himself back to reality. He was out of bed before his wife and daughter, to clean the dojo and equipment, before reintroducing kenjutsu back into his life. But he couldn’t use a real blade anymore. Never again, not even to keep students. He couldn’t let go of the sword, but he could forge a new relationship with it, to protect who was important to him. He began drafting new kata, on defending and disarming. The work anchored him even further, kept him from falling too deeply into listlessness.

Kyoko and Kaoru were encouraging, every step of the way. His wife woke him from the worst nightmares, and she intuitively knew when to give him space and when to be near. She always made her presence known, never startling him. When he returned to work, his satchel hid little notes in her handwriting, heartfelt reminders that pushed back against his dark thoughts. Kaoru was determined to make him smile once a day. Her good cheer was infectious, as she took over in leading their daily stretches. Upon finding her mother’s notes, she added her own, complete with the signature she was practicing. One of her first sewing projects was a handkerchief for him, a fine dark green with three leaves, and she presented it with such pride, his weariness lifted.

It wasn’t always easy. Some days, he faltered, folded in on himself. It wasn’t until months later that he could think back and realize how low he had been. He wasn’t certain if he’d ever feel like that again, but he learned to recognize the triggers and cope.

Now that the Emperor had moved to the freshly renamed Tokyo and there was peace at last, properties were up for grabs. The more Koshijiro heard, the more he leaned into the possibility. There was excellent medical care in the capital, and plenty of work to be had. The influx of people also meant more potential students. It was a time for change, and when would another opportunity like this occur again?

The paperwork was quickly finalized and they packed their belongings. By year’s end, they were settled into their new home in Tokyo. Koshijiro had commissioned renovations and additions, and though the house was larger than needed for a family of three, he and Kyoko discussed accepting boarders to pay off the debt. But the bathhouse was worth it, to the delight of Kyoko and Kaoru, and he liked his dojo very much. The wood smelled fresh and fragrant, and he pivoted in the open space. The light poured in, washing over his face. This was his school, the one he had yearned for all these years. A school of swordsmanship that would use the blade to protect, never to kill. A school that would represent a vow for the present and a wish for the future.

Kamiya Kasshin. The living heart.

***

At first, he thought the Kamiya plot had moved, because there were only supposed to be three graves, for his parents and Kyoko. So the fourth had puzzled him for a moment, before he realized whose it was. Oh. Well, this was very strange, to see his own grave.

“Kenkaku Koshimichi Koki…?” He muttered. The Buddhist name he had been granted for the afterlife felt like it belonged to a different person entirely.

Fortunately, there weren’t many weeds. The ones that were present gave his right shoulder enough work. As he was finishing up, a kind couple offered to scrub down the headstones and light the incense. They made small talk, that they were newlyweds and he had married into her family. They refused any monetary payment, and with clasped hands, they were soon on their way. Alone, Koshijiro knelt.

“I’m a little early, but I thought these flowers would be nice. And sorry, that Kaoru isn’t here with me.” It would be nearly eighteen years ago, that she was born. “I’d rather celebrate her birthday when she’s home. We’ve missed out on that, the past two times.”

The wind ruffled his hair. It was getting longer, he needed a trim.

“I’ve been working on adjusting Kamiya Kasshin, for a one-handed variant. Not just for me, but for Yutaro and those in similar situations. It would also be good for anyone who’s been injured.” For that matter, injured people weren’t far from his mind. “Even though I’d like to be there, fighting with them.” He stood, brushed off his sore knees, and gave a last smile. “I’ll be back for Obon, with Kaoru and everyone else.”

***

After multiple appointments, Kyoko finally spoke the truth aloud. “I’m not going to live much longer, am I?”

Dr. Gensai slowly nodded. “Yes. I wish I could do something, anything.”

“You’ve done so much already, ever since we moved here last year.”

Kaoru worked her way under Kyoko’s arm, half-crawling into her lap. “Okaa-san.”

Koshijiro was barely listening, the world closing upon the clinic’s room. Nothing seemed real at that moment.

As the days passed, the neighborhood pitched in. His police colleagues covered extra shifts in his place, and their wives kept Kyoko company while he was working. He received plenty of groceries with a hand wave in regards to payment, which he never got used to. There was always something on the table for dinner. An acquaintance by some degrees, the apprentice of an artisan who had admired the work of Kamiya Keiichiro, offered to paint Kyoko’s picture, free of charge. The ink portrait was very somber, unlike his wife, but Kyoko appreciated the gesture. To Dr. Gensai and the rest of their visitors, she seemed accepting and strong.

However, when it was just the two of them, she was afraid of dying.

“I don’t want to go. I need to live, just a while longer, until Kaoru is a little older.” She sobbed, and it took all of Koshijiro’s willpower not to break down. He held her and didn’t speak, his throat burning.

Kaoru was on her best behavior, ensuring her mother was warm and had food. She braided both of their hair at night and chose Kyoko’s clothes in the morning. She read aloud, stumbling on a few unfamiliar words and making up for the little mistakes with her own interest in the novels.

Sometimes, his wife was too fatigued by the pain in her abdomen. Her hand shook when she drew her fingers through Kaoru’s ponytail. It was too easy for her to be out of breath. But she was focused on one task in particular, and he found her carefully writing when she was able.

“It’s our family book.” She showed him the familiar cover of the volume that told the stories of their pasts. She had been updating it over the years. “The next few pages are for Kaoru, for when she’s a young woman. I’ve already written your pages, for when you feel troubled.”

“Kyoko…”

“I only want you to be well. And I’m sorry.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes and gave a short laugh. “Oh no, not again.”

“No, Kyoko, don’t apologize.” He drew her trembling form into his arms and breathed in the scent of her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve fought a harder battle than many ever will, and even now, you handle it with grace in front of Kaoru.”

“I don’t want her to worry about me, but I think she knows anyway. She’s a good girl, our daughter. She’ll be a lovely young lady someday.” Her tone was bittersweet with longing. “My kimonos have been set aside for her?”

“Yes, for when the time is right.”

“Mm. Hopefully, they won’t be too out of fashion.”

“They’ll suit Kaoru well. I saw the blue one with the cranes, the one you wore when we met.”

“That was almost twenty years ago, right? I still remember that day, I knew you were kind and honorable. I think I loved you from the moment I told you my name. I never expected to have this, any of this. But I’ve seen the cherry blossoms each year with you, my husband who I’m very proud of. Every day with you has been wonderful.”

“I haven’t been at my best every day. Most days, perhaps even half.”

She shook her head, mouth curving upwards. “No, really. Every day.” She brought her hand to the side of his face, and he leaned in to kiss her.

By autumn, she was in the hospital again. She was deteriorating fast, yet she held onto Koshijiro’s hand as the doctors came in and out. She was too weak to leave her bed, and he held back her hair when her nausea was too powerful to keep at bay. The worst was when she didn’t seem to recognize him or Kaoru, rapidly blinking at them when they greeted her. Her confusion was frightening, and he always ushered Kaoru out, saying that Okaa-san needed her rest. But she was sharp enough to notice.

“It’s so hard to see her like this. I wish I could do something!” She exclaimed, kicking a stray pebble in the road.

“I feel the same. I’d rather it be me in her place.”

“Otou-san, you shouldn’t be in the hospital either.” Kaoru corrected, slumping. “All of us should be home.”

He couldn’t argue, and he took her hand as they departed.

The weather chilled, the leaves bright with color. Flowers were in rare abundance, but they managed to procure an armful of pink dianthus. Kaoru strode into the hospital room, petals falling in her wake.

“Okaa-san, we’re here to visit!”

“Hello.” Her voice was barely audible but her expression was warm.

Koshijiro was relieved she was lucid. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“No, I just woke up. What time is it?”

He told her, as Kaoru arranged the bouquet by the window.

“Oh, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” Tears welled up in her gaze. “You have such a good heart, Kaoru.” She swallowed hard, intent on making her words count. “You’ve been so helpful, so sweet and strong. I’ve told you as much as I can, but if it isn’t enough, know that you’re never alone. Listen to Otou-san, and remember that he wants what’s best for you. There’s always the book, if you need it.”

“I know where the book is. I just want you.” Kaoru quietly replied.

Kyoko was too overcome to speak, cupping Kaoru’s face. Koshijiro sat at her other side, wrapping his arm around her. They huddled close, their conversation meandering; what mattered most was that they were in the present together, for as long as it could last. Eventually, Kyoko’s breathing deepened and her eyes struggled to stay open.

“We’ll be back later.” Koshijiro promised, hesitantly extricating himself.

“See you soon, Okaa-san. Love you.” Kaoru kissed her cheek, and Kyoko gave a fragile smile.

“I love you too. I love you both so much.” Those were her last words, before she fell asleep.

By the following evening, she still hadn’t woken. A number of white-clad hospital staff filled her room, exchanging words that swept over his understanding until someone explained. Kyoko was comatose. He was going to send Kaoru home, but she stamped her foot and insisted on staying. One of the doctors offered a spare office for her to sleep in, while Koshijiro remained by Kyoko’s side. It would not be long before the end, he was warned but he would not budge. He wouldn’t let her go while she was alone.

Her weak pulse fluttered under his thumb, stopping for long seconds before picking up again. His dear, persistent Kyoko. He cupped her cheek and bent his head close, uncertain if she could hear him, but he whispered into her ear. “It’s alright, Kyoko. We don’t want you to be in pain. It’s alright.”

It was ultimately a blessing that Kyoko did not linger. Before midnight, she slipped away. Koshijiro pressed his lips to hers, in one last kiss. Then, he went to Kaoru.

She stirred awake when he touched her shoulder. “Otou-san?” Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

“She’s gone.”

“Can I see her?”

He could only nod, and he led her into the room. Kaoru climbed onto the hospital bed, and stifled her sobs into Kyoko’s neck. He held her cold hand, engraving the memory of her skin into his mind. They remained there until the very last minute.

***

The funeral was accompanied by a light rain. His arms were burdened with the container of Kyoko’s ashes, and his shoulders hunched unconsciously to protect what was left of his wife from the weather. Kaoru walked beside him, quiet and matching one of his paces with two of her own. The stoic procession marched to the cemetery, and Kyoko was buried in heavy silence.

Time passed by sluggishly. The house was too quiet, and he resorted to kenjutsu, to an escape. If he kept his body occupied and moving, he would not have to think about how empty he felt.

“Otou-san?”

The timid question stopped him mid-step, and he turned to see his daughter standing in the doorway.

“Um. I tried to make lunch. Do you want to eat yet? Because you didn’t have breakfast…”

His gut reaction was to decline, he had probably lost his appetite forever. But he stared at his daughter’s round eyes, the quiver in her chin as she waited for his answer.

No. I can’t give up, I’m all Kaoru has now, and so, I must keep up my strength.

“Alright. Let’s have lunch.”

The onigiri were misshapen, lopsided triangles. There was probably a little too much salt, but to his fatigued body, the flavor wasn’t bad. The rice was definitely undercooked though, and the only sound in the room was the crunch of grains between teeth.

Then, there was a sniffle. Koshijiro lifted his head, to see Kaoru frowning and wiping away tears, even as she chewed. “Sorry.” She warbled. “It doesn’t taste good.”

“Kaoru…” He reached over the table, to awkwardly pat her head. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I’m your father, it’s my duty to provide for you. But I’ve been neglecting you. I’m so sorry.”

“Mm.” She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her sleeve across her face.

“Don’t worry about cooking anymore. I’ll hire a new housekeeper to take care of that. I’ll also open the rooms to boarders so we can pay off the rest of the debt. Soon, I’ll continue teaching.”

“Can I be a student again?”

“Yes. The position of head student will always be yours, until you can teach with me.”

“And then?”

“And then, you’ll be assistant instructor. After that, head instructor. The dojo will be yours, and I’ll write it down so no one can take that away from you.”

Kaoru nodded. “Otou-san?”

“Hm?”

“Can I talk about Okaa-san?”

“Your mother loved stories. I think she’d like nothing more than for you to tell stories about her.”

She slowly nodded. “Will you?”

“Perhaps not right away. But even if I don’t speak, she’s always here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “And here.” He pointed to the same spot on his daughter, and she laid her fingers upon it in understanding.

“Okay. I can talk about her for both of us.”

He didn’t respond, but he patted her head again and they continued on.

It was not easy, raising a daughter alone. As much as Kaoru looked like his dear wife, she had inherited her temper from him. They did argue, over trivial matters in hindsight, but such discussions usually ended in Kaoru slamming the door to her room and for him to thumb through his designated pages in Kyoko’s book, rereading her overarching message of love and patience. He would not repeat the mistakes of his youth, and he would knock on her door, requesting that they talk. Thankfully, her anger usually blew over quickly and he made it a point to apologize to each other.

Kamiya Kasshin was ultimately a family project. Kaoru was the first student to try the new techniques, and from observing her as well, Koshijiro made necessary changes and adjustments. His daughter was a natural at kenjutsu, and she freely challenged him.

“Wouldn’t another step work for this kata? I feel like I need to get my balance back from the last turn.”

“That’s fine, but you might run into trouble if you’re in a tight space.”

“Well, that just means it’s more important to rebalance.”

“It seems the turn’s causing the issue. What if we move it up, earlier in the sequence?”

“Yeah, that could work too!”

He did hire a housekeeper, but the middle-aged woman was far stricter than her initial interview conveyed. She heavily disapproved of Kaoru’s love for swordsmanship, insisting that she rise before dawn and sleep late, to complete extra household tasks. But Kaoru was unhappier every day, and it came to a head when the housekeeper mentioned the dreaded word of “marriage”. Kaoru was late for practice and he was searching for her, overhearing the raised voices in the kitchen.

“Why would I care about some husband I haven’t even met yet?” Kaoru exploded. “I’m me and I should be loved for who I am, not because I’m ladylike enough!”

“Your education should have started when you were much younger. Now, I fear it’s too late to salvage.” She glanced over at Koshijiro, striding towards them. “Ah, here’s your father.” If she was expecting him to defend her viewpoint, he was glad to disappoint her.

“I need her in the dojo. Don’t delay her and for that matter, we will not speak of marrying her off. Kaoru is only ten.” He firmly stated. “End of discussion.”

“You spoil her far too much. If she were my daughter, she’d be a proper girl and run the house on her own. I’m not sure what your wife did-”

“And that is where you stop, because she’s not your child, she’s mine.” He coldly dismissed her. “Pack your things and I’ll give you your pay for the week. We have no more need of your services.”

She huffed and gave them nasty looks but didn’t say another word. Before noon, the gate soundly shut behind her.

“Well…that probably went as well as it could.” He said at last.

Kaoru laughed. “I thought it was great. Thank you, Otou-san.” She hugged him and he patted her head. Then, she pouted. “Does this mean we need to find someone new?”

“We can wait a while.” Soon after, they met Sekihara Tae, whose friendship was much appreciated.

When Kaoru was twelve, they had the pleasant surprise of a visitor. Kikuhara was traveling through, and he was interested in the school Koshijiro had described in a New Year’s card. He joined the class as an observer, then to help with basic forms. He began to follow along with the students, and he caught on quickly. After a month, he held his own in sparring against Koshijiro. Kaoru called the close match in Koshijiro’s favor, but they were happy with the outcome.

Kikuhara’s objective seemed to be complete too. He opened a pocket watch and examined the inside. “It’s time for me to go. I have someone to return to now.” With a smile, he turned the watch around to show Koshijiro a photograph of a young girl, no older than five. “My daughter, Midori.”

“A daughter? You…married?”

“No.” Kikuhara paused. “I haven’t told anyone else this, but she’s the illegitimate child of my lord. I was tasked to care for her, but the moment she was placed in my arms, I knew she was as good as my own. She’s very frail though, and she isn’t interested in kenjutsu, unlike your Kaoru. But she’s kindhearted, like her real father.”

“With no offense to your lord, you are her father now and I’m sure she misses you.” Koshijiro pointed out without malice. “If you need any advice on raising her, please let me know.”

“I’ll remember, senpai.” He joked. “I will be sure to bother you about teaching as well. I like some of the kata from Kamiya Kasshin, and its message is honorable. I’m interested in sharing it in Echigo, alongside my own family’s tradition. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“And I’ll call it…Kasshin Shintoryu Kikuhara?”

“Please don’t, you can just keep your family’s name for the school.” He was embarrassed.

“No, it’s a good name, and I’ll be happy to teach under its sign.” At the end of his stay, they saw him off with waves and promises of a future reunion, when Midori was older.

Years passed. He filled a book with the knowledge of Kamiya Kasshin, leaving it in the altar alongside Kyoko’s volume. Kaoru was promoted to assistant instructor after demonstrating mastery in the last kata, and she taught the youngest students while he focused on the older ones. They made a good team. The dojo was raucous with clashing bokken and conversation, and for some time, life was uneventful.

***

That changed when Kumamoto Castle was taken by the Satsuma army. Before the week’s end, the draft letter arrived, summoning Koshijiro to the warfront once more. He was standing frozen in the front yard and numbly rereading the notice, thinking of how he could hide it before he had a proper chance to speak to Kaoru, when she called out.

“Otou-san, what’s taking you so long?” Too late, her gaze landed on the official stamp on the envelope, and she immediately blanched. “Otou-san?”

“I’m sorry, Kaoru.”

“Why are you apologizing?!” She gave a nervous laugh. “It’s not like you chose to go.”

“In a way, I did when I joined the police.”

“Otou-san, don’t say that. I know you don’t really think so.” She touched his shoulder. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m more worried about you. You’ll be alone.”

“No, I won’t. I have the students, and Tae’s in town. And I can always bring on more boarders.” At his distasteful expression, she scowled. “Don’t say anything about protecting me, because I can defend myself. You know I can!”

“I’m only telling you to be cautious.”

“I am.” She grumbled.

He excused himself, to find two items. One was his tanto, and the other was his father’s. He handed the sheathed blades to her. “Keep one under your pillow, and the other in the secret compartment in the bathhouse.”

“Otou-san.”

“Remember to lock your room every night.”

“Otou-san, I’ll remember. But how are you coping? You’re being called back to war, you’ll have to…” Kill people again. The unspoken words hung in the air.

“I don’t look forward to it, but I will do my best to avoid a worst case scenario. With Kamiya Kasshin, I can disarm as many as I can.”

At that, she lit up. “So, we should train as much as possible. And I want to master the succession techniques before you go!”

That was a good idea. After lessons, they practice sparred, and Koshijiro pinpointed where she needed to improve. Not that there was much, but he wanted to teach her everything he could before leaving. The last afternoon eventually came; Kaoru focused solely on Hadome and Hawatari. She was on the verge of breaking through, and she recognized as much.

“I almost had it! And I knew where I went wrong too! One more time, Otou-san?”

“No, you’re tired. It’s already been over two hours, and I can tell you’re too exhausted to proceed any further today. We should stop here.”

She groaned, slumping. “But I wanted to master them before you left, so you can see.”

“Mastering these techniques shouldn’t be rushed, especially for my sake. You are close. So, not yet, but you’re getting better every time.” He wouldn’t be here to watch her progress though, after this day.

She must have thought so too, for she set her bokken aside and fiercely hugged him. He squeezed her back, hoping it could convey all of what he couldn’t say aloud.

The morning of departure was somber. Kaoru made breakfast, which he ate without complaint. He donned his uniform and hated that his daughter looked so sad when she saw him. However, she didn’t mention it, only asking if he had everything he needed. She trailed him past the front door, the frosted grass crackling under their footsteps.

“I’ll see you soon, Otou-san.” She said, decidedly using the temporary farewell.

“Yes. Protect the school while I’m gone, and go back inside, before you catch a cold. I’ll see you soon, Kaoru.” He clasped her shoulder, hoping to give some strength to her. Then, with great reluctance, he let go and walked alone. He closed the gate behind him, waited until Kaoru locked it again, and headed into town to join his regiment.

The journey to Satsuma was taxing, as they sailed towards Kyushu. He wasn’t as young as many of the other men, and when they camped on the southern island, he fell asleep once his head touched his pillow. The nightmares trickled back, becoming more convoluted every night. The return to the battlefield was dreaded by the other policemen, especially since they were only given wooden batons and swords. He couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved by the lack of a gun. He struck at shoulders, feet, anywhere that wasn’t lethal.

Months passed, as Saigo Takamori’s defeat forced him to flee and the Imperial army followed suit. The minor skirmishes with Saigo’s men culminated into a pincer attack on the Satsuma rebels. Koshijiro gritted his teeth and continued with striking through. To move forward, so this could be over as soon as possible. Suddenly, the line fell back, and he was perplexed for a moment, before the surrounding shouts alerted that there would be shelling. The order was to retreat, to gain as much distance for the explosions that would soon rock the battleground. Koshijiro didn’t even have to time to sheath his sword, the adrenaline humming under his skin, demanding to run as fast and far as he could. The men were tripping over each other and cursing, the fear and apprehension whittling their tempers.

A distant boom, then faint screams. Two steps later, it repeated, only closer. How much time did he have left? Koshijiro’s heart pounded out the tense seconds. A young soldier, barely older than Kaoru, stumbled to his right. Koshijiro switched his katana to his left hand and grabbed the boy’s collar. Using the momentum of his own body, he thrust the boy in front. “Take cover!” He bellowed.

Sound. It deafened him.

Force. His left arm, still outstretched behind him, twisted.

Heat. It seemed to split his skin open.

Pain. And that was enough for his eyes to roll back.

Forgive me, Kaoru-

***

He woke up, and he could hardly draw breath. He blinked. He had his sight. He was on his back, staring up at a white ceiling. The clamor of groaning men filled his ears. The smells of urine and blood were strong, and he didn’t dare open his dry mouth. He was in a hospital, a crowded one at that. For how long, he didn’t know.

I’m Kamiya Koshijiro, forty-five years old. I have a daughter, Kaoru, who is seventeen. We live in Tokyo. I work with the Tokyo Metropolitan police. I teach Kamiya Kasshin, the sword that protects.

There, his memory was intact. Although when he tried to remember what happened after the explosion, he couldn’t recall anything after the storm of sensation. He must have fainted. He twitched his fingers, his toes. No pain. He turned his head right. Well, his neck wasn’t broken, just stiff. Against his pillow, there was soft friction; the back of his head was bandaged. His right forearm bore the healing crust of a scrape, and he deduced he must have fallen on that side. But he could move his wrist and elbow joints, so there were no fractures. He checked the left-

Immediately, he jerked his head away. Shock kicked in. He didn’t have an arm. His left arm was gone. There was just wrapped white cloth, encasing the end of his shoulder. Then, why could he still feel it, down to the fingertips? He looked again, to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

He stared and stared and stared. He didn’t have an arm.

Distantly, he heard a nurse call out that he was awake, and footsteps approached. A doctor introduced himself before asking identifying questions. Koshijiro’s voice was raspy from disuse but he demonstrated he knew who he was. The doctor provided new details.

Koshijiro was in a hospital close to one of the harbors in Satsuma. A week had passed. The Imperial army was fighting on, with the last of the rebel forces weakened. Most of the province was back in the Emperor’s control and it would be a matter of weeks before Saigo surrendered. Reportedly, Koshijiro was found on the battlefield, alone and unconscious. When he was moved here, he had convulsed to reality and blood loss brought him under again.

Overall, he was in rough shape. The explosion had singed some of his hair off, and his skull had to be partially shaved. He had superficial burns on his back, that worsened on his left side. His right knee was swollen and abraded, and part of his big toenail was torn. His body bore minor cuts and bruises from landing. And he no longer had a left arm. The doctor actually had to remove more bone and tissue because what remained after the blast was not clean. But it was free from shrapnel and they could only do their best to prevent gangrene.

He was warned that there would be pain, that his body would not properly recognize that his left arm was gone. Multiple medicines were given to him, and his mouth gained a perpetual bitter taste. He slept in fits throughout his stay. All around him, other men were dying. He always noticed when another body was carried out.

A week passed, but he wasn’t quite healing. He forced himself to look at the dressings as they were changed, and they didn’t seem promising. He bitterly thought he couldn’t recover as well as he could in this place, but he had no say here. And then, one morning, he felt lethargic and his stomach sank in realization. A small part of him clung to hope that it would pass soon, but he forgot it as he became more and more delirious.

The hospital staff was saying he was feverish, and he groggily understood it was bad, because he felt so cold. Sleep was tempting. There was more medicine, more people hovering over him. He felt numb, it would be very easy to sleep forever. Too weak to struggle, his eyes closed.

He did not expect to dream.

He was sitting on the porch, the moon abnormally large and bright above. A quiet warm summer’s night. And he couldn’t see her, but he could feel Kyoko’s presence, as if she was standing behind him.

You’re so close.

I know. But not yet, Kyoko. I made a promise to you, didn’t I?

It was as if she was laughing, her breath warm against his neck. Then, please go home.

Yes. He couldn’t possibly disobey and he was swallowed once more by the void.

When he woke, his fever had broken. To the doctors’ surprise and awe, he had overcome the infection. He didn’t feel like it was miraculous at all; he had made promises and he intended to keep them. Once he heard his wounds were healed, he declared. “I’m leaving.” The response was dismissive, until he tried to leave his bed. He’d had enough of being in the hospital, he argued, and he’d heal more if he wasn’t restrained. That only sent him to another facility, with others in slightly better condition. From so much time on bedrest, he was frustratingly weak, and his legs shook underneath him when he attempted to walk around. But he pushed on, easily recalling a blue-clad figure with braids in her family’s yard, and conjuring a younger one, years later, who must be teaching in the dojo. Even if he no longer had one arm, he still had the other, his legs, and his head. That was good enough to get by. By the time he was discharged, the war had ended with Saigo’s suicide. His return home was overdue but winter’s approach undercut his pace. He was trying desperately not to get sick again.

The initial leg was frustratingly slow. He had no money, and any innkeeper dismissed his offer of labor. One benefit about his amputation was that it was noticeable, and kind strangers would grant him a night or two in a stable or on a fishing boat. But most people tended to avoid his gaze, so he did his best to keep moving. The new phantom pains were excruciating, his ghostly arm wrenching as it had in its final moments. Those incapacitating occasions, as well as his poor physical shape, forced him to rest often, to his chagrin.

He took one such break, on the wayside of a market street. He had managed to buy passage back to Honshu, though it meant he had to agree to a slight detour, since the port was not close to the main roads he recognized. This town was bustling with naval activity, thanks to the iron ships anchored in the dark water. The marine air was soothing, and the latest episode of pain ebbed with each deep breath.

“Ojii-san, where did your arm go?”

He startled, and in his periphery, a little boy stared at him with round eyes. There was a flood of emotion, but his most prominent thought was: I can’t tell this child it was blown off! “Well…” He searched for an appropriate thing to say. “I traded it.”

“For what?”

“So I could go home.”

A woman in her early thirties approached, holding the hand of a slightly older boy. “Sadatake! Oh, I’m so sorry.” The mother was so mortified, bowing her head multiple times. Her obi rested low, under the modest curve of her belly. “Sadatake, apologize to this uncle.”

“Sorry.”

“Please, don’t concern yourselves over it.”

She searched his face for a moment. “You look like you could use some rest and good food. Why don’t you come to our place? My husband wouldn’t mind at all.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“No, I insist.” She pressed her palm on her rounded abdomen and smiled beatifically. The underlying message was not to upset her. “And my husband’s heading this way right now.” She directed her gaze over his shoulder, and he pivoted.

What he saw stunned him.

The man had plenty of silver in his hair, and his right leg dragged with each step, though the sleeping toddler draped over his shoulder didn’t help. Those fox eyes had regained their spark and framed by creases, they widened in recognition. “Kamiya? Kamiya Koshijiro?”

“Hayashi.” He shook his head at the incredulity of the moment, and he gestured to the site of his recent loss. “After all this time, I would certainly like to talk to you.”

The family led the way to a modest house, near Hayashi’s workplace at a naval office. The boys were young, having turned three, five, and seven, and they had just finished celebrating the milestone thrice over. Hayashi was a long way off from his former devastated self. Koshijiro felt a mixture of relief and sympathy as he watched his friend mind the little ones’ table manners at dinner.

“Sadakazu, here, move your cup away so you won’t spill it. Sadanori, wipe your mouth.” Even as he was speaking, he was already carrying out the actions, inspecting his youngest’s face one last time to ensure it was thoroughly clean. Hayashi’s wife fondly watched the spectacle, as Sadatake ate beside her.

The comfort of having a meal at a full table was a balm to Koshijiro’s weary spirit. After the dishes were cleared and the boys were sent to bed, despite their loud protests, Hayashi poured out two cups of warm sake. Koshijiro inhaled the fragrance, appreciating the liquor.

“Been saving up this bottle for a while, and I’m glad I did. I haven’t had the chance to drink in a while either.”

He took a sip. Just hot enough and very good indeed. “I didn’t know you’d become a family man.”

“I didn’t really expect to be one.” Hayashi admitted. “During the Bakumatsu, I was here, watching the troops travel past and trying not to feel useless. But Akie’s family clan sided with the Satcho alliance, and that’s how we met. There wasn’t much of a ceremony, because we married against her family’s wishes. I don’t blame them; I can still hardly believe she’d pick me. But before I could scare her off, the boys came along. Now it’s twins, so I hope at least one of them can convince the rest to be calm and kind to their old father.”

Koshijiro laughed. It was the first time in months, he realized, that he had. “You’ll miss some of it when they’re this young.”

“You have a family, don’t you? A daughter?”

“Yes, Kaoru is in Tokyo. Kyoko passed away, seven years ago.”

Hayashi’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. But you made her happy, anyone could see that. ”

Koshijiro chose not to reply, instead drinking from his cup.

“How old is your daughter now?”

“She’s seventeen.” He had missed her birthday. Discomfort spread through him.

“Damn, you’ll probably be marrying her off before the twins arrive.”

“Kaoru’s still young.”

“I was married to my first wife when I was younger than that.” Hayashi countered. “And it’s been months since you’ve been gone.”

Koshijiro frowned. “I need to return.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed much at all.” His friend grinned. “Maekawa’s in Tokyo too, right? Well, don’t tell him or anyone else yet that I’m here. I will, when I’m ready. Probably after Akie delivers.”

“I think they’d be glad to know you’re living well, but I understand.” The last of the alcohol was drained, and Hayashi thumped his back before urging him to retire. That night, he slept comfortably.

Before dawn broke, he intended to leave quietly, not to bother them anymore and to get a head start on his day. But he wasn’t as quiet as he hoped, for rustling noises carried over into the hallway. He tried to quicken his pace, but a door slid open.

“Gotcha.”

His sighed. “Good morning, Hayashi. And Akie-san.” The couple walked towards him with intent, Hayashi’s hand in his robe.

His friend clicked his tongue. “Good morning indeed. Were you trying to sneak away? How foolish, Kamiya. My wife’s hearing is not to be underestimated. Especially since we want to give you this.” He pushed a cloth bag into Koshijiro’s hand, the hefty weight studded with the metal ridges of the coins within.

“I can’t possibly accept. Please, keep this for your children.”

“They have plenty already. You, on the other hand, don’t have a naval secretary father, so take it.”

Akie added. “It’s a long road to Tokyo, especially when traveling alone. If you can find safety on a boat, a train, or even a cart, we’d be at ease knowing you have the means.” She then kept her voice low. “And I wanted to personally thank you. I know what you and your friends did for my husband, all those years ago, and it’s because of you that I have him. That I have my children and this life. I hope this is a fraction of what I owe you.”

His resistance crumbled. “…I promise not to squander it. In return, I hope you have a safe delivery.” He stepped out, to slip on his shoes.

Hayashi held his wife by the waist, to shield her from the morning chill, and raised his hand in farewell. “If you ever need anything else, let me know.”

“I will, and thank you. It was good to see you.” They bowed to one another, and he did not look back. His path was clear.

The days unfolded, one after another. At last, the surroundings became familiar, and every step took him towards the dojo, his school, and Kaoru.

***

In the first week of July, the Kyoto police informed them that Shishio and his followers had revealed themselves. Koshijiro was loath to miss an incoming message, and he remained at the station with the night shift, catching himself from nodding off until his sore neck forced him to trudge back to the empty house. The contingency plan was never far from his mind, even manifesting in his dreams. He was awake for good when the news came that Shishio’s ship was burning and falling to pieces off the shoreline. And then, there was another telegram within the hour.

“This one was specifically meant for you, Officer Kamiya.” The chief wryly said. “From your daughter.”

It was short but conveyed so much. WE WON. ALL SAFE.

If he was the type to dance, he could have danced all the way home. But he wasn’t, and ultimately, that meant he noticed that the lights were still on in Dr. Gensai’s clinic. When he knocked, Takani opened up, her eyes tired but offering a little smile when she recognized him. “Kamiya-san?”

“Yes, I have good news. The battle was won in Kyoto.” He showed her the telegram with pride.

“Really?” She exhaled in relief. “I’m so thankful. But it must have been difficult. I would like to see if they need care…”

“Then, let’s go. We’ll leave with the first train in the morning.”

“Just like that?” Takani laughed. “Well, I won’t argue. I’ll tell Dr. Gensai and get my supplies. See you in a few hours.”

He could hardly wait.

[tdpholidayexchange]

A Moonshadow Test

Hi Lyn, @lodestarting here is your Secret Santa, a long fic where Callum tries to impress and keep his cool around Runaan. I hope that you like it. - @ladyandherbooks.

Callum was annoyed, this was not how he envisioned his journey to the Silvergrove going.

‘‘Ez are you sure that Opelli can’t handle this? You appointed her your regent while you’re away, let her deal with it.’’

Ezran sighed ‘’I’m sorry Callum but the delegation from Neolandia requires an extra day to finalise their new trade agreements with the elven territories and I need to be there to help them. After what happened with Prince Kasef his father wants to ensure that he mends the bridges that his son tore down in his quest for revenge. I need to be here.’’

‘’It’s okay Ez, I know how important this meeting is to you. Don’t worry I’ll be fine, it’s only one day. One day in the Silvergrove with Rayla and her four scary parents being my only company will be fine.’’

‘’ They aren’t that scary Callum, especially not Ethari, Bait loves him.’’

‘’You weren’t there when he saw Viren try to kill Runaan after he was freed from the coin. Runaan, Tiadrin and Lain might be hardened assassins, but I’d rather go up against them in a fight than Ethari when he gets angry. I think Aaravos might have even been a little bit intimidated.’’

‘’You’ll be fine, they’ve known you for a year and a half now. They know how much you love Rayla, how much you desire peace for Xadia and how much you are willing to risk and sacrifice for both. They like you Callum, they trust you, I’ve seen it.’’

It appeared that he had no choice. Hugging his brother quickly Callum then turned and made his way to the end of the balcony. Strapping his bag around his chest he climbed onto the ledge, raised his painted arms and spoke, his arms turning into wings as he stood in the early morning light.

‘’I’ll see you tomorrow Ez.’’

‘’Bye Callum.’’

He leapt and immediately feeling the wing beneath his wings, soared away from the palace, towards his destination, the Silvergrove.

  As they entered the Grove Callum could feel is nerves returning, what if his brother was wrong? What if the four of them decided that he wasn’t a suitable match for their daughter? What would they do to him? Was there an ancient Moonshadow elf test to prove your worth to your girlfriend’s family? He wasn’t as accomplished in Moon magic as he liked but he’d give it a shot if it meant he could show them just how much he cared for Rayla.

‘’Are you alright?’’

‘’Yes, of course I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong, I’m okay. I’m great.’’

‘’Callum.’’ Rayla looked at him, one eyebrow raised as she silently judged him. She knew him too well, he couldn’t lie to her.

‘’Okay, fine I’m a little nervous. I just didn’t expect to be spending a day alone with your parents. What if I mess up, say something stupid or offensive? What if they something funny and I laugh so hard that whatever I’m drinking comes out my nose?’’

‘’Has that ever happened before?’’

‘’No but it might.’’

‘’Callum,’’ She said taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘’It’ll be okay, I promise. And you won’t have to spend time with all four of them. Mum and Dad had to take a quick last-minute trip to Whitegrove to get some supplies for the festival. They won’t be back till tomorrow it’s just Ethari, Runaan and I until then.’’

‘’Oh, okay well, I guess…’’

‘’Callum, it’s going to be okay.’’ She kissed him on the cheek.

‘’Now come on I’ll race you to the tree house.’’

 The last time Callum had been here he had only ever ventured into Ethari’s workshop. He had hoped to see Rayla’s childhood home, since she had already infiltrated his and to have a chance to sleep in a bed for the first time since he had left the Moon nexus. However, it wasn’t meant to be, and they left the Silvergrove less than two hours after their arrival. Now however, his reason for visiting were guaranteed to be a much happier instance. Finally, he would get to see the place where Rayla grew up, where she went to school, were she played, he would get to see everything. He was excited.

As he reached the top of the curving staircase he bent down, resting his hands on his knees catching his breath as he tried and failed to keep up with his athletic and acrobatic girlfriend. He looked up and was met with Rayla smirking down at him, the look of triumph plastered all over her face.

‘’You cheated.’’

‘’Did not.’’

‘’Did too.’’

‘’No, I, unlike you just used all the skills I had to win. You for some reason decided not to use your magic to fly to the top. That way you would have at least stood a chance at winning.’’

‘’I thought that it was a running race.’’

‘’I never said it was, you just assumed. Always a fatal mistake.’’

Callum was about to reply when the door behind Rayla opened to reveal Ethari.

‘’Ah Callum you’re finally here, come in, Runaans in the kitchen helping me prepare food for the festival.’’

‘’That sounds dangerous’’ Rayla said as she entered her home.

Ethari laughed ‘’Don’t worry, he’s only helping with the prep work. I’ll be the one doing all the cooking. He is planning on making you a giant Moonberry surprise though.’’

‘’Really? Are you serious?’’

‘’That’’ came a voice from the kitchen ‘’was meant to be a surprise.’’

Callum rounded the corner and entered the kitchen and paused as Rayla rushed past him to Runaan, excitement radiating off her as she approached her second father of her heart.

‘’But you only make it for me on my birthday.’’

‘’Well this going to be the first Solstice festival that we’ve all been together since you were three so I thought that I might surprise everyone.’’

His eyes, which had been bright and full of love for Rayla suddenly turned dark and hard as his gaze found and fell on Callum. Callum gulped and stepped into the kitchen.

‘’Hello Runaan, lovely to see you again. You have a lovely home, nice panelling, sturdy.’’

‘’It is a tree house. We live inside a tree.’’

‘’Of course, yes, how silly of me.’’

Feeling his ace heat up with embarrassment Callum looked around the room, hoping to find something to comment on that wasn’t tree related. As he did, he could feel Runaan’s eyes burning into the back of his head. He turned his back so that the older elf could not see how nervous he was and tried to compose himself. He could do this, he could handle a day or two without his family and friends to distract and take up Runaan’s time. He’d endured and survived much more dangerous and stressful missions than this. Yes, he thought, straightening up, this would be easy.

‘’What are you doing?’’

Callum jumped and spun around to see Runaan standing right behind him.

‘’Oh, uh nothing, just uh looking at things.’’

‘’I see.’’

‘’Yeah, uh, lots of things to look at here.’’

‘’You’re looking at a sink of drying dishes.’’

‘’Oh, well, they’re very interesting, so ahh white, yes, very white and pretty.’’

Runaan didn’t reply, instead he just stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised as he watched him, silently judging him as he bumbled through an obvious lie. Then, as if by magic, and he very much hoped that it was, a smiling Ethari approached the pair and told him to put his bag in his room. Thankful for a chance to escape he hurried away to his bedroom to unpack his things. Once he unpacked Callum made his was back to the kitchen and found the three elves sitting around the small kitchen table, a glass of Moonberry juice in front of each of them as they chatted. Ethari noticed him and smiled.      

‘’Runaan and I were about to go to the market to stock up for the festival. Would you two like to come?’’ He turned to Rayla.

You could show him the centre of the Grove.’’

Rayla smilled and nodded.

‘’I wanted to show Callum around the Silvergrove so I guess that would be a good place to start as any. Let’s get going.’’

Callum sighed, this was going to be a very long day. He couldn’t wait until Ezran arrived.

 The Silvergrove was much bigger than Callum had imagined. As the four of them made their way to the market Rayla pointed out various buildings and landmarks, recounting different memorable moments she’s had at each. Despite his nerves and the knowledge that Runaan’s judgemental gaze was constantly fixed on him he soon found himself falling in love with Rayla’s childhood home. His gaze was constantly switching, never lingering, Silvergrove was incredible, filled with such wonder and magic that he felt a slight twinge of jealousy and longing for a childhood filled with such wonder. Then his gaze fixed upon the market and Callum’s awe and excitement grew. This was the place to be. Beside him he felt Rayla gently tug on his arm, guiding him to a fruit stall located on the left side of the market’s entrance.

As they made their way around the market and the various shops found in the heart of the Silvergrove Callum could feel Runaan’s eyes burning into the back of his head and could feel his judgment as if it were a brand on his skin. Runaan may have been a Moonshadow elf but his gaze had the burning intensity that one would expect from a Sunfire elf. More than once Callum found himself stuttering or dropping whatever he had picked up, his nerves were getting the better of him. They followed the two older elves as they walked through the market, stopping every now and then at a stall or a shop to examine and purchase some of the produce and wares on sale. It did not take long for Ethari’s basket/bags to fill up with food for the festival in two days’ time. Adjusting the strap of one of the bags he had slung over his shoulder Ethari turned to them.

‘’We’ve gotten everything we need for the moment so if you two want to head off you better go now. We’ll meet you back here at the Blue Moon in an hour for dinner. Have fun you two.’’

Beside him Rayla grinned and waved to her father’s as they headed off back in the direction of home.

‘’What’s the Blue Moon?’’ he asked.

‘’Only the best place to eat in all of the Silvergrove.’’ She pointed to a large white building on the opposite side of the town square.

‘’This was the place I told you about the first time you came here. This is the where you can get the best Moonberry Surprise. Before my parents left for the Dragon Guard we used to eat here once a week. Runaan and Ethari used to take me there too but not as often, they prefer dinner in. It was the first place that they ate together as a couple though, so we did come here quite often, they even let you order food and take it home with you to eat.’’

‘’That’s unusual.’’

‘’It’s the best, when I was growing up Runaan would take me here after a long day of training and he’d order dinner for us to take home. Now hurry up, there’s still so much of the Silvergrove that I must show you.’’

Over the next hour Rayla led him around most of the grove, showing him her school, the training grounds and parks where she’d learnt to be an assassin, the thermal pools where the elves liked to unwind and the shopping district where Callum saw shops catering to every and any need that a Moonshadow elf might have. Suddenly his eyes fell on one shop and he gasped in excitement.

‘’Rayla, a bookstore. Can we go in?’’

‘’We have a little bit of time left before dinner so as long as we don’t take too long, I don’t see why not.’’

Nodding in agreement Callum raced over to the shop, dragging a surprised Rayla behind him. He opened the door, the little door bell ringing as they entered and Callum immediately felt at home. There were so many books, so much magical knowledge that Callum almost squealed in excitement. He ran over to the nearest bookshelf and grabbed a thick, leather bound book and opened it, finding a book filled with illusion spells and charms for daily life. He grabbed another book, this one a spell book filled with protection charms and runes. Beside it was a book dedicated to illusions to change one or more of an elf’s physical features.

‘’This is incredible, I’ve never seen so many magic books. I want them all.’’

Every other shelf and bookcase had at least one book that caught his eye. From basic spell books, to tomes on potions to gigantic, leather bound box sets that told the history of the earliest uses and developments of Moon magic, this book store had everything that he could have wanted. Each shelf and bookcase was dedicated to a different field, level or speciality of Moon magic. He didn’t want to leave, he could spend an eternity here. He grabbed the books that had first caught his eye, made his way over to the nearest table, pulled out a chair and began to read.  

‘’Easy there Callum, you’ll be here for a week remember. There’s plenty of time to find the perfect book or three.’’

Callum looked up from a book on the basics of Moon magic and instead of seeing Rayla’s face he found himself surrounded by a very tall wall of books. Somehow, in all his excitement he had managed to build himself a book fort without realising what he was doing. Glancing around the carefully constructed fort he found his now exasperated girlfriend watching him. Behind her stood an elf that Callum guessed was the owner of the bookstore. Rubbing the back of his head he jumped up quickly, grabbing the books that he had bumped in order to prevent them from falling.

‘’Sorry, I’ll put these all away right now.’’

The elf chuckled and shook his head ‘’It’s perfectly fine my boy. If there’s one thing, I’ll never be/get angry about it’s someone’s love of books and knowledge. Take all the time that you need and don’t worry about the books, I’ll put them back when you’re done.’’

Fifteen minutes later Rayla, with a great deal of difficulty, managed to drag Callum through the shop’s front door with the promise of spending as all day in the bookshop later in the week. Walking away from the shop Callum heard his stomach growl loudly and he realised just how hungry he was. He didn’t have to wait long as within a few minutes he found himself in front of the restaurant that Rayla had pointed out an hour ago.

‘’Rayla, Callum, perfect timing.’’

Callum turned and saw Ethari and Runaan walking hand in hand towards them. Callum saw Runaan’s gaze go from happy and content to intense and hard as he looked from Rayla to him. He gulped but stood his ground nervously as he felt Runaan’s scrutinising gaze give him a once over before settling back on his husband, a small smile now replacing the hard lines that had just graced his features. Ethari giving no indication that they had noticed the look Runaan had given him smiled at him and led the group inside. When he entered Callum temporarily forgot his nerves as he took in the restaurant and it’s interior. The restaurant was airy yet cosy, filled with, to Callum’s surprise comfortable couches and big cushioned chairs surrounding large and small white tables decorated with traditional Moonshadow patterns and designs. Rayla gently tugged his arm and guided him through the restaurant to a small table nestled in a back corner near a large window.

‘’Best seat in the house.’’ She stated as she made herself comfortable on one of the small couches. Callum went and sat beside her while Runaan and Ethari took the couch opposite them. On the table in front of them were 4 menus, written in elvish. The others picked up their menus and began perusing the meals available, debating what they were going to eat. Callum picked up the final menus and tried to decipher the elvish before him. He’d tried, over the last year and a half to learn as much elvish as he could but there were still many words that he still didn’t know. As he tried to decipher the words in front of him a young Moonshadow elf with a purple apron tied around their waist approached their table

‘’Hello everyone, can I get you anything? Drinks? Food?’’

Ethari looked up at the young waitress and gave her a warm and friendly grinmaking the young elf blush.

‘’Just drinks now, I’ll have a pint of Moonberry mead please.’’

‘’Moonberry juice for me and the same for Callum’’ Rayla replied.

‘’I’ll just have a water.’’ Runaan replied simply.

The waitress nodded and left, promising that she would return with the drinks shortly. As she left Ethari turned to Runaan and spoke

‘’Only a water, you’re being very boring tonight.’’

‘’Well I know what you’re like when you drink, someone has to be the responsible one and make sure that you get home safe.’’

‘’I’m not the lightweight Runaan, I can handle more than few drinks.’’

‘’You know what I’m talking about.’’

Ethari smiled and put an arm around Runaan’s waist and placed a kiss on his cheek.

‘’Don’t worry Runaan, the only one I’ll flirt with tonight will be you.’’

Looking over the edge of his menu Callum saw Runaan’s face soften and, in that moment, he saw all the love, a love which had grown and deepened over many years appear on the former assassin’s face. This was what true love, real love looked like, the kind that his mother and father would have had if tragedy hadn’t struck and taken them far too young. The kind of love Callum hoped that he and Rayla would have one day. It was truly a beautiful site to behold and Callum found himself unable to look away. That is until Runaan, sensing another’s gaze upon him turned to look at Callum, his expression now stern and hard, displaying none of the softness it had had mere moments ago. Not wanting him to know that he had been staring Callum ducked behind his menu, his face almost certainly turning bright red in embarrassment. He couldn’t afford to annoy or upset Runaan, not when he was to be a guest in his house for an entire week. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rayla look over at him, her eyebrows raised.

‘’What’s wrong? Why is your face red?’’

‘’Nothing, nothing’s wrong I’m perfectly fine. My face just does this sometimes.’’

Rayla didn’t appear to be convinced but she didn’t press the issue, merely shaking her head and muttering about how weird humans could be.  

‘’I think’’ Ethari began ‘’that we should just get a few dishes and a few extra plates so that we can pick and choose what we want. Then Callum can really see and try Moonshadow cuisine for himself.’’

Callum smiled at the older elf as the others nodded in agreement. He’d been struggling to read the menu and even if he had been able to read it, he knew he would have had trouble deciding on one dish. Just then the waitress returned with their drinks and Ethari and Runaan thanked her before giving her their order. The waitress left promptly, and the two adults turned back to the two teenagers and asked them about their tour of the Silvergrove. Soon Callum found himself in a lively conversation as he recounted the last hour as well as all the wonder and amazement he had felt as he had finally explored/toured/discovered Rayla’s childhood home.

‘’We haven’t finished yet though.’’ Rayla continued. ‘’Tomorrow I want to show Callum my old/first home. Not to mention that I promised to take Callum back to the bookstore he found this afternoon.’’

‘’Just if you don’t stay out too long. We need you to help us prepare for the festival in two days’ time. Ethari’s going to need help in the kitchen tomorrow and I need someone to help me set up the pavilions and help with the decorations. So, go out and have your fun in the morning but make sure that you’re back by lunchtime.’’

‘’That shouldn’t be a problem, if all goes well Ezran, Aunt Amaya, Corvus, Gren and Soren should be here by lunchtime tomorrow.’’

‘’Mum and Dad should be back by tomorrow afternoon too so by then we should have more than enough people to help you get ready for the festival.            This is going to be the best festival ever. I can barely remember the last festival that I spent with mum and dad.’’

‘’Well you were three at the time so it’s very surprising that you have any memories of that festival at all.’’

‘’I remember being wet.’’

‘’That’s because you decided that you wanted to play with one of Ethari’s floating decorations in one of the pools and you fell in when you tried to grab it. Lian looked away for a second and when he heard the splash dove in right after you.’’

‘’When he pulled you out you were soaked through, miserable and terrified and that was the end of your time at the Solstice festival.’’

‘’I felt so terrible after you fell in that I fished one of those flowers out of the pool and gave it to you as your parents took you home. You grabbed the flower and didn’t let it go for days.’’

‘’Well I almost drowned to get it, there was no way  I was letting it out of my sight.’’

Listening to this story from Rayla’s childhood Callum wanted to laugh or at least smile but was too nervous, especially with Runaan sitting right in front of him. He didn’t know what to do, his nerves told him to try and find something witty and enlightening to share and add to the conversation, but he knew that if he tried, he’d almost certainly ended up rambling and he knew that this would not help in his quest to get Runaan to like him. So, in order to save face, he kept silent, watching the conversation happening next to him as he did his best not to buckle under Runaan’s harsh gaze. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of silence their waitress returned carrying three different dishes, each sending out a different but very appealing smell. Behind her another elf followed, carrying one final dish and four plates, setting each of them down in front of them before giving them a small bow before retreating to the opposite end of the restaurant. In front of them sat four very different dishes, each looking and smelling just as appealing as the others. The first dish was a savoury pie, filled with Moon Stag venison, vegetables and herbs was hearty and filling. The next was a curry, vegetarian, with a thick, spicy sauce, served with rice and pickled cucumbers. The third was a salad, made with what Callum believed to be various leafy vegetables of green, red and purple, Xadian oranges and nuts with a simple dressing. The final dish was fish, a type that Callum had never seen or heard about during all his months in Xadia. It was battered and crispy with a large serving of thick cut chips beside it, with a generous serving of a tangy and creamy sauce beside it which Rayla informed him was known as Tartare sauce.  Eager to try everything he piled his plate high with a generous helping of each dish, an act which would have made his little brother proud. Each dish was so delicious that he found it very hard to pick a favourite, the flavours were so different yet so complimentary he loved them all.

‘’I think that it’s that time, Moonberry Surprise time. I knew the chef when we were children and I’ve helped him out now and then when he needs, he needs heat protection charms or a new utensil. In return for my services I’m allowed into the kitchens where I can get fresh Moonberry Surprise straight out of the oven. Come on Rayla, let’s go and get some.’’ He gave Runaan a quick peck and left with Rayla at his heels, leaving Callum no time to protest or to stop his girlfriend from leaving him with her most intense parent. Callum nervously looked over and found Runaan staring at him intently.  

‘’So, uh, dinner was nice. How’s retirement? Must be nice to finally relax and take things slowly. Not that I’m saying that you’re old, you’re still very young, real young, I’m sure you have many more years ahead of you.’’

‘’I need to say something/I want to talk to you.’’

Callum shut up.

‘’Something that I’ve wanted to say for a long, long time.’’

Callum panicked ‘’You see I’’

‘’Thankyou.’’

‘’Wait what.’’

‘’Thankyou for helping Rayla, for saving her life, for helping her and for being there when I could not. I’m glad Rayla found you, that you found each other. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for her, to grow up and find someone that loves her and cares for her as you do. Someone willing to risk it all for her, someone who is willing to die for her. That is what my daughter deserves.’’

‘’So, you like me, you approve of me.’’

‘’Yes, I do. I have for some time now.’’

‘’But what about all your scrutiny and all those scary, Moonshadow death glares?’’

‘’That was Rayla’s idea, not mine.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’You see you aren’t the first non Moonshadow to fall in love with a Moonshadow elf and in these situations a certain tradition must be followed.’’

‘’Moonshadow death glares.’’

‘’The tradition is to put pressure on the outsider in order to determine if they are worthy of the love of a Moonshadow elf. If you can withstand the pressure then you’ll win the respect and approval of your love’s friends, family and community. If you fail, well, your love was never strong enough to be worthy/to withstand/weather life with one who walks between life and death. All who have failed this test have proved that their love was not as great or enduring as they believed.’’

‘’But if you already approve of me, then I must have already passed your test.’’

‘’Yes, but I’m not the only one you must impress and seek approval from. Lain and Tiadrin have expressed their intent to test you during your stay. Rayla though that it would be a good idea to give you a taste of what was to come, to see how you would handle such pressure and scrutiny when you aren’t in a life or death situation. So, she asked me to put some pressure on you as soon as you arrived to see how you would react.’’

‘’How did I do?’’

‘’Apart from the rambling I believe that you did quite well. I have no doubt that whatever Tiadrin and Lain’s tests are you will pass them with flying colours, just as Rayla predicted.’’

‘’She knew that I’d pass.’’

‘’Of course, she had faith in you. She just wanted to make sure, as did Ethari and I. Lain and Tiadrin can be very intense and stubborn, believe me, I’ve known them for almost my entire life. We all needed to know for certain if you were going to be able to handle them.’’

Runaan stopped and observed him for a moment.

‘’Callum, you earned my approval and respect a long time ago and many times over since then. You earnt it when I leant that you flung yourself off the Storm Spire to save Rayla. You earnt it when you helped free me and tried everything you could to help me heal and recover. You earnt it when you tried to help make Ethari smile when I could not. You earnt it when you let go of the hatred and anger you felt towards me even though you were completely justified in never letting it go, never forgiving me for killing your father. You do not have to prove that you are a worthy recipient of Rayla’s love.’’

‘’Thank you Runaan. That means a lot. But I must ask. If Rayla asked you to do this in secret, why tell me?’’

‘’Well I thought that you might like a bit of a heads up. As I said before I know Lain and Tiadrin. Lain and I have been best friends since we were five years old and I’ve known Tiadrin almost as long and I know that they’ve been planning for this week for quite a while/some time. This is not something that you should be going into unprepared.’’

‘’What are they going to do to me?’’

Runaan was about to reply but closed his mouth quickly, leaning back into the couch as Rayla and Ethari finally made their way back to the table.

‘’Try and look nervous, remember I wasn’t meant to tell you that this is a test.’’

Luckily this wasn’t difficult at all and by the time the other two had returned Runaan and Callum had schooled their features back into that of a judgmental and disapproving father and their nervous, rambling boyfriend. When they got to the table, they set down three plates of what Callum guessed was the famous Moonberry surprise. Ethari also set down a streaming hot cup of tea in front of his husband before snuggling up next to him/sitting beside him, legs touching and offering Runaan the first spoonful of his dessert.

‘’Runaan isn’t a big fan of desserts so he usually just has a bite or two of Ethari’s or mine. He does like fruit tarts though, but they didn’t have any today so we couldn’t bring him one.’’

Callum picked up his spoon and dug into the deep red mousse and its golden crumb base and took a bite. As he bit down something burst inside his mouth. He looked down in surprise but found nothing.

‘’What?’’

‘’Isn’t it great’’ Rayla said, her mouth filled with the surprising dessert.

‘’Why am I tasting pomegranate? I thought that this was Moonberry Surprise.’’

She grinned ‘’ That’s the surprise in Moonberry Surprise, you think you’re going to get a secret Moonberry treat but surprise, it’s pomegranate. You hide the pomegranate with an illusion so that every bite is a surprise.’’

‘’It is very surprising, but a very tasty surprise. Ez would love this, I can’t wait for him to try it.’’

‘’Just wait until you try Runaan’s, he makes a syrup from unripe, tangy Moonberries and drizzles it on top. It’s the best.’’

Out of the corner of his eye Callum saw Runaan flash him a very quick smile before his face returned to that of the stern and disapproving father, a persona that Callum now knew to be a charade/façade. He fixed his face into what hopefully looked like that of a nervous and awkward teenage boy, a feat which, after the events of the day was not too difficult to achieve.  

  As they made their way slowly back to the tree house Callum smiled, today had not been as bad as he had thought it would have been. Silvergrove was beautiful, he’d gotten to spend the afternoon with Rayla, he’d found an amazing bookstore, finally tried Moonberry Surprise and Runaan didn’t hate him/actually liked him. If he had dreamt of a perfect day in this place, then today would have been very close to perfect. Taking Rayla’s hand he strode forward more confidently than before. A few paces/strides behind them Runaan smiled, the small act catching Ethari’s eye.

‘’You told him didn’t you.’’

‘’Of course. Did you expect me to let him deal with Tiadrin and Lain totally unprepared? Rayla might have faith in him but she doesn’t know her parents like we do. The boy needed to know.’’

‘’Of course he does. But what happens when Rayla finds out that you told him what you were doing?’’

‘’She won’t. Callum can keep this secret. I have faith in him.’’

Ethari leaned into him, wrapping an arm around Runaan’s waist.

‘’You really like him don’t you. You wouldn’t have let him in on Rayla’s plan if you didn’t.’’

‘’He’s a good man, loving, protective, smart, creative. He reminds me of you. How could I not like him?’’

Ethari smiled and leant in, giving his husband a gentle kiss.

‘’I’m proud of you.’’

Runaan smiled and returned his husband’s kiss.

‘’Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to tell him what Lain and Tiadrin had planned for him.’’

‘’Oh dear.’’

‘’Yes’’ Runaan agreed, pulling Ethari closer ‘’Suffice it to say that this week is going to be a week none of us will ever to forget.’’

[datarevived]

  -- Ⅲ : ʙᴇx

It had been three days since she arrived at the Tower. 

The Warlock's voice still resting in the back of the Awokens’ mind, each time in passing the crowded Bazaar with hesitation. A stealth maneuver to remain unseen, unheard -- as she made her way to and fro the Courtyard. With few hours spent upon the Tower's rooftop, the past few days had been favored to feet resting upon dirt, taking the elevator down to the City where citizens just barely outmatched the presence of other Guardians.

Something was different about the air - its' touch more sincere than the crafted winds by Ghost piloted ships. The natural state of order carried between those who only had one life to live - their smiles more forgiving, while their work expressed an exhaustion more real than those who arrived back into the Tower with battered merit. In a way, something that she terribly missed... the emptiness that once rested upon her chest, now so full of unanswered questions. 

An unapproved sense of responsibility... she didn't ask for, nor wished it.

    " Ahhh~ "

With a blinking light, the tiny Ghost reveals itself to burden - welcomed by the sunrise across wooden canopy that surrounded the state of the city and its' preparation for new defenses. In some places, a wall that was already finished, while in others - parts that refused to fall since the beginning. Both citizen and Guardian alike, a mute coexistence that seemed more flavorful than those handled upon the Tower. It felt nicer here. More trustworthy. More real.

    " Another stroll around the block? " the Ghost hums.

    " Mm, " comes the quiet response. Still having yet attuned to the permanent company of ones' own Ghost. It's reveal always something startling, yet... welcomed. Even if it had the habit to talk too much.

    " I'm surprised you haven't memorized  the place yet. To whom are we paying a visit to today? "

A subtle hint in her active route of avoiding visits... one in particular, that weighed both on she and her Ghost's fate. Three days in, and she'd hardly spoken back to Hawthorne since getting settled. Hadn't really spoken to anyone, aside from her Ghost. Let alone, returned to Ikora. How upset she'd be if she decided to avoid the woman all together, she wonders. For how long would she be able to avoid the Vanguard's stare, knowing full well they could see her light?

    " There's a tent I wanted to visit... " the Awoken says, pausing in her step within the City as she turned to her Ghost. " It smelled really good yesterday, almost like the Ramen place Hawthorne took us... but it wasn't noodles. "

    " Good as in...? " her Ghost tilts, questionable expression dotted upon its' optic.

    " I think I overheard someone use the term... ' curry '? " she ponders, lowering her gaze temporarily as she raises a hand to her chest. Violet brows furrowing in decision, her gaze then lifts to observe their surroundings and to which direction she'd remember such smells taking place. A bit further from the Tower, but still inward of the walls. " This way... I think. "

Upon gifted boots, her tracks follow in unison with several others. A frequent walkway between the markets that hung clothing from string and hand-held fruit in barrels. Ornaments that could be placed in jewelry displayed in sheered plastic cut outs, while suppliers stacked their wooden tables with revised weaponry - tweaks made to decommissioned wears. Trade made in other wears, or glimmer, or cheap pieces of gold from the Golden Age - the nostalgia to some older than several Wars and counting. 

It wasn't until she by-passed the quiet corner of the market did the scent catch her nose in a hook -- its' flavor not yet rested in the air, but brewing still. The tent which had previously been opened yesterday to her knowledge, tied shut with a little white parchment resting upon knotted string. 

Closed.

    " I think we've shown up a bit too early, " her Ghost whirls, scanning the paper for confirmation before hovering back to the Awoken's side. " Maybe try again later? "

A disappointed furrow of ones' looks, the Guardian simply stands. The decision on whether to wait it out or not - she had already looped the place more than twice in the previous days. Nothing else having caught her eye in particular with the small set of glimmer she had been gifted. The only other thing on her list, the very subject she had been avoiding. They would have to go back to the Tower, and find Ikora.

    " Heeey! "

    " ...? "

    " Heeeeeeey! You there, Guardian! "

A nervous chill rings down her back at the call, the womans' attention turning briefly from which the voice came. Somewhere further up the pathway, the shade of another being waving its' hand against the sun's rays, providing merely a silhouette to detail. Two yellow optics piercing against the distorted color of ones clothes - its shape getting closer and closer as it jogged towards she and her companion.

    "  Hey!, Sorry - I, whew- - I didn't know what else to, awh man - outta shape, uh, I didn't know what else to call you to get your attention, " the person speaks, its' mouth glowing in an orangish tint per every syllable spoken. Upon proper inspection - the being wasn’t even human, but something else. Some of which she had witnessed many and above those in the Tower. The ones that were known as Exo-Units. " I uh, saw ya - standin' here, looked like you were gonna leave, " it continues, briefly crouching its knees in as hands rested upon its' kneecaps, a mechanical pant wheezing between its' speech. " This place, it opens. In uh.. Screws, Screws! What time is it? "

As on call, another flicker of light ignites to the scene. A strange looking Ghost if Selene ever did see one - its' shape much rounder than the shell upon her very own. Like a chubby side-ways cross, if the cross's edges were insanely curved. Its' colors, an assortment of teal on yellow - not the most... coordinated of schemes. A bit hard to look at, actually.

    " ɪᴛ ɪs ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ 𝟿:𝟻𝟹, " it's voice chirps. It's tone far more mechanical than any Ghost thus observed, as if running through a Golden Age computer tech. Something that was truly more machine than sentient being. Causing that of Selene and her own Ghost to exchange glances before turning back to the Exo in question.

    " Seven minutes - probably six, really - she's always out here untying the knot a minute early, " the Exo explained, waving a hand. " Stick around, promise its' worth it. I'll even - I pay your way. I pay your way, and you - ugh - you tell me about yourself. Nice chat - none the pervy stuff. Not into it -- " another wave, followed by the attempt of standing back at ones' full height, " But just a friendly, chat with a stranger. No strange stuff. Except... well... "

    " ʜᴇ ʜᴀs -- ɴ𝟶 ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs, " the strange Ghost clicks, an unintentional emphasis on the ' no ', but it seems to hurt the others' feelings all the same.

    " Auwh, come on, Screws! " the Exo cried, shaking its' head in defeat. " Why ya' gotta do that?! "

    " I uh... " Selene starts, a perplexed blink as she stared at the two, " I don't... have any friends either? So maybe we can... work somethin' out... “

    " Honestly, it seems one of you have a few screws' loose, " her Ghost retorts,  whirling between the space of the other two beings. 

    " Well, he is my missing link, " the Exo snorts, motioning towards its' Ghost. " A basket case without'm. Hence the name - eh? Eh? "

    " His... name is ' Screws '? " the Awoken squints.

    " And I'm BEX! Nice to meet'ya! " the Exo grins, jabbing a hand in greeting. An awkward pause in between before Selene reaches out to return the favor; its’ grip seemingly more eager than anticipated as she felt her head spin at the force. " One of the most handsome Exo's in town! "

    " H-Handsome --? " Selene repeats, shaking her head to cease the spinning. She offers the other an examining glance before pulling words together. What little of its’ frame she could tell... it was something between a brownish bronze with silver. " I suppose you're... not too bad to look at. “

    " You suppose?! “ comes the exclamation, another sudden look of defeat grazed upon the Exo’s features. " Y'know what, just take'm, " he pushes his Ghost, Screws, over towards her, " You'll get along g r e a t. "

   " Hey, wait a minute...! No, no! This ones' mine, " the other Ghost retaliated, its shell then zooming between Selene and the floating oddity. A violent shake, as if trying a scare tactic from the nameless, the more colorful of the two merely stays in place - indifferent to the situation at hand.

    " I don't... think I can even take someone elses' Ghost, " the Awoken speaks, the lack of confidence in her voice astute. This whole situation having got out of hand too quickly - all for the sake of trying new foods. All to be interrupted by the rattle of ones' tent prying open - revealing a human woman, seemingly mid aged with a apron around her waist.

    " I thought that was you who was causin' a ruckus, " she sighs, shaking her head towards the Exo. " You harrassin' this poor girl? You drivin' out my business. "

    " No -- I'm increasing business, " Bex corrected, raising a single digit in accusation before walking over and assisting in the ties of the tent doors. " She was here before I was, anyway. About to walk away, too, if it wasn't for me. "

    " I... well, yes... " Selene nods, her expression blank. " He's... also offered to pay my way. So I'll have the most expensive dish you have. "

    " Hear that Chef? The most expens-- hey, wait a dang minute! That's not how to treat someone! " he turns his head mid sentence, another wail coming from his sensors. The Awoken in standing offering a small giggle in the sense - waving a hand of her own, " It's a joke, a joke... "

    " Consider me feeling generous today, " the human woman scoffed, tying off the last string to reveal the few stools at a bar. " Ye' both can have whatever you want on the house. But you better bring back some new friends with wallets I can tamper in, " she turns toward Bex, a stoic scowl drift upon her face as she walked toward the back of the tent. A double unit, by the looks - half of its' width hidden behind another layer of fabric - the sounds of stirring pots and pans to be heard.

    " Heard..." the Exo sighed, raising a hand behind his head in a scratch before looking back over toward his newly acquainted ' friend '. " Well? The waits' over, what're you standin' for? "

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

    " Ah new Lihght? Dat's always fuhn," the Exo quirked a mechanical brow, still managing through a tuff of meat as he chewed. " I rehember when I firs woke up. "

    " You do? " Selene questioned, having taken a break from her bowl. A quarter remains of curry sitting beneath spoons' edge as arms folded themselves across the countertop.

    " Yeh - well, kinda, " Bex started, trying his damnest to finish the meal in tow before continuing. " As an Exo, kinda got a jail outta free card if you catch my drift. Went through the process of turnin' flesh to metal, body didn't wanna cooperate, failed transfer, yadda yadda, " he waves a hand, fingers wiggling at the thought. " I was suppose to have been dead, then and there. No flesh, no metal, no nada. But apparently - and this was news to everyone at that point, that the Traveler - handy dandy up there in the sky, can chose to bring back even the failed chaps' from Clovis's basement. Without the stinky rotting smell. "

    " So you... died, trying to become an Exo, and then was brought back as... an Exo...? "

    " Crazy, right? "

    "  But how did you... do you... I can't remember anything before hand, " Selene spoke, a tint of confusion in her voice. " How was it that you were able to remember something even before the Traveler.. "

    " On-file documents. Somethin' the big ball didn't take into consideration, really. Kinda like a taboo, " Bex answered. Finishing the remains of his meal in a gulp, he exhaled a content burp before turning in his seat toward the woman. A shrug of shoulders as he clasps fingers together in a hutched position. " S'why Screws sounds a little funny, actually. Apparently the computers didn't approve of me tamperin' with the tech of where I woke up. Managed to get my stuff, but, other things - either already removed or too corrupted to tell. "

    " The computer attacked your Ghost? "

    " Not the computer, but the computer, yes. "

    " I... sure, " Selene gave a single nod, knowing all too well that more questions would just send her further down the hole of insanity with this one. Perhaps she judged too soon of her own Ghost, it and its' chatty habits.

    " I know you just said ye' don't know 'bout the past, but, what about you? What are you doing now? Have you been to the Tower? " the Exo then asks, tilting its head some. " They set ya' with a team? "

A team?

Right...

Hawthorne had briefly mentioned it when she was getting settled in. Fireteams -- groups that worked in favor of the Vanguard, doing patrol chores or strikes in high concentrated areas. Consisting from any combination of front line, be it Titan, Warlock or Hunters.

    " I... I've been there, yeah. Met... Ikora? "

    " Another Warlock? I'm a Warlock! " Bex grinned excitedly, quickly unraveling fingertips as he threw both hands in the air. " Not lucky enough to get under Ikora's perch, no no, but, a mentor all the same! "

    " N-Not a Warlock, " Selene corrected, raising a small hand to settle the others' glee, “ Just, she's the only one I've talked to so far. Just, about... normal stuff... "

    " Oh? Oh -- well, I mean, that's okay too. Gotta, figure out just what sorta tricks ye' got up yourself, y'know, " the Exo says, bringing back his hands into little light punching motions, the movement briefly twisting his stool to and back. 

" Yeh know, betcha' a Hunter. You look it. Bet you got the skills for it too. "

    " A Hunter, huh? "

    " Oh, totally. Slim build, poker face, betcha' good with a dagger. We're already at like three check marks outta somethin' else. "

Tilting her head in curiosity, Selene returns the words with a shorten smile. The thought of being on the front lines still terrifying at the thought... but more along the lines of ones' confidence in her. Someone else who could see something she couldn't. Could he be trusted?

    " That reminds me... I should probably get going, " the Awoken stirs, staring upon ones' reflection against the porcelain of the bowl before bringing her eyes back to height with yellow optics. " Thank you, for the meal. "

   " No problem! " Bex offered another grin, hopping off his seat and extending a hand in assist. " Thank you for the company! S'really made my day. "

Despite having been tall enough to touch the ground from her seat, the Awoken accepts the temporary assistance in twisting out of her chair. The cooling touch of the Exo's frame unfamiliar to her as the two walk outside the tent. Chilling, yet... gentle.

    " Y'know... if you're ever up in the Tower, " she starts, offering the Exo a glance before departing. " I'm... not a hard person to find. And if we're friends now, then... it means we can hang out again, right? "

   " So you're admitting that we're totally friends? " Bex confirmed, brows raising upward in a suave manner.

    " I'm saying that it wouldn't hurt to have someone else to hang out with, " she scoffs, albeit while wearing a smile. The sudden twinkle of light igniting ones' Ghost back to view, the pallid texture of the Traveler twisting in offense. " Well, that wasn't very nice to say! You do know I hear nearly everything you say, right? That this is how this relationship is going to go? "

    " What, you don't want more friends either? " she coos, cocking an eyebrow in teasing notion as she extends a finger in poke toward the Ghost. " We got a long ride, might as well make friends along the way, right? "

The Ghost hovered in the air, spinning its' optic back toward the Exo then back to its' original Guardian. An audible huff coming from its' speaker before dissipating back into the wind. Another chuckle is pardoned under Selene’s breath before turning eyes back towards Bex. The Exo remaining stand-still with unblinking features as if absent for words.

    " I'll see you some day in the Tower, yeah? " Selene asks.

    " If I don't see you back here first, " Bex smiled, motioning a thumb over his shoulder toward the tent. " There's still two whole meals you gotta try! "

[flannelpunkcalum]

A Thousand Miles From Nowhere

See, the farmer’s market meant Calum Hood. Ever since Y/N’s family had been going there, he’d been there too - they’d gone to different schools, growing up, but on Saturday mornings they were always in parallel to sell rhubarb and cabbage to tourists. They’d always traded small smiles across the market while their parents weren’t looking - now that they were older and out of their moody teen phases, they’d talk about the weather sometimes. Y/N didn’t expect much to come out of it, but god, she could listen to him talk about the spring rain patterns for hours. 

@seedless-vascular asked me very nicely to write her a farm!calum fic and I had to oblige! It’s pretty slow burn but the next and final part should be up within a week or so! I took the title from the Dwight Yoakam song because I honestly haven’t listened to country since middle school I’m so sorry 

“Are you wearing that?”

Y/N stopped, and then instantly regretted it as the egg cartons in her arms wobbled. Shit. “Wearing what?” She said, once they had stilled.

“That big sweater!”

“I mean, it’s gonna be cold out today.”

“Listen, girl, I don’t want to be reloading any of these eggs at the end of the day. It’s May, business is gonna be slow, you gotta put on something a little… showy.”

Y/N gave her grandmother a long look. “Showy?”

“Alluring.”

Y/N shook her head and delicately started loading the cartons into the milk crate. “I’m gonna come down with an alluring case of pneumonia, is what’s gonna happen, and then you’re gonna have no one to help you out.”

Her grandma gave her a little frown. “You’re no fun.” She said affectionately.

“And you’re trying to pimp me out. D’you wanna take this crate out to the truck? I’ll get the next two and then we should be good.” Y/N said, passing her grandma the milk crate. She was getting older, but she was tough as the gnarled tree left out in the field. Y/N was there to help, sure, but her grandma could look after herself.

“Don’t forget the mushrooms!”

That sounded about right. While she was off from school, grandma was gonna get as much work out of her as possible. “I’ll grab them, too. Get the dog in the truck, would ya?” She yelled at Nanny’s back.

Huffing out a breath, she stacked the crates carefully in her arms before heading out. The orange cat spotted her on the way out - with a little mewl, he twisted around her legs, but she managed to keep her balance. If she dropped this, their appearance at the first farmer’s market would be pretty sad.

And, well, she couldn’t have that.

See, the farmer’s market meant Calum Hood. Ever since Y/N’s family had been going there, he’d been there too - they’d gone to different schools, growing up, but on Saturday mornings they were always in parallel to sell rhubarb and cabbage to tourists. They’d always traded small smiles across the market while their parents weren’t looking - now that they were older and out of their moody teen phases, they’d talk about the weather sometimes. Y/N didn’t expect much to come out of it, but god, she could listen to him talk about the spring rain patterns for hours.

When they got there, it was early enough that Y/N didn’t have to take over for a tricky parking job. It was May, anyways, things were quiet. They wouldn’t be making big money until school was out and cottagers started coming down more consistently. Hamish, her grandmother’s dog, ducked out of the truck before she could grab his leash. “Hamish!” She yelled after him, but he wasn’t running towards the road, but weaving his way through the stalls. Ah, she’d let him. They didn’t need to tie him up just yet.

After grabbing the fold out table, she trudged along between the rows of stands that had already been set up. The Hood Family Farm stand was already mostly put together - Calum was already there, and she could see Hamish’s head popping up behind the basket of potatoes as he jumped to lick his face. He was laughing, she could see that much as she dropped the table on the grass. Well, at least now she didn’t have to try to figure out a way to talk to him. “I’m sorry about him.” She said, coming up to grab Hamish’s collar.

Calum smiled up at her as Hamish made another attempt to give him a kiss. “Nah, he’s alright. What’s his name again?”

“Hamish.”

“Good name.” Calum nodded, cupping Hamish’s goofy little face in his hands. The dog’s tail whipped into Y/N’s shins, he was so happy. “Good name for a good dog, right, buddy?” He said, then caught his collar, passing it into her grip. Their hands brushed for a second through Hamish’s fur. Y/N tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed it, but it almost jolted through her body. This was just the remnants of a childhood crush, she told herself.

But god was his smile like sunshine.

“Thanks.” She said, as her grandma arrived at Calum’s stall.

“Oh, it’s little Caylum! Look at you, running the stand.” Nanny said, picking up a potato and giving it a serious look. Y/N grinned at Calum; she did this every time, and they still didn’t know what she was looking for.

“Calum. Yeah, dad got to sleep in today.” He grinned, leaning on his table.

Nanny put the potato down. “Oh, so you’re taking over the farm, then? Big man.” She said, with eyebrows raised. Y/N had seen her do this before - it sounded like a joke meant to flatter, but the question was real.

Calum seemed to fall for it. “Yeah, ‘s lookin’ like it.” He said, giving that bright smile to her grandmother. It didn’t surprise Y/N that she looked so pleased to hear it.

“I’m gonna set up, actually, while you guys talk. We’ve got a tight fifteen before the market opens, so... D’you guys need eggs? I’ll save you some good ones.” She said to Calum, taking a step back with Hamish.

“Ah, yeah, actually, that’d be great. Thanks, Y/N.” He said. He turned his whole body towards her when he said it, jesus. Y/N had to get out of there before her knees gave out. She gave him a quick nod, then tugged Hamish along with her as she headed back to set up the stall.

She should have stayed to talk to him. Calum wasn’t an adult, after all, she had just graduated with a degree, she was just as accomplished as he. It was just those looks he gave her - somehow she was terrified of saying something stupid in front of him. Ugh. Maybe Mali would come home and run the stand instead and Y/N could just stare at her all summer instead.

She had her hands full after that - Nanny had a lot of catching up to do with the other stall owners, as she did every week. By now they both knew that she was sneaking out of work, but Y/N always asked about the news after, to politely pretend she was fooled. It was quiet at the market, as they had expected, but she wasn’t lonely. Aside from the serious cottagers, Hamish was lying by her feet, chewing on a tennis ball. Every so often he’d get a little too enthusiastic and the ball would spring out of his mouth, and he’d have to crawl to the end of his leash and look longingly at passersby until someone tossed it over to him. Y/N always acted a little embarrassed for the puppy’s sake, but really, he was good for business. Every so often someone would come over to tell her how beautiful he was, and eventually she’d find a way to sell them a carton of free-range eggs or some of the mushrooms.

“I told you to be more careful.” She told the dog as the ball bounced off again. Hamish looked up at her expectantly, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Well, if I went and got it for you I’d be leaving the stand unsupervised, wouldn’t I? Shoulda thought of that before you started goofing around, huh, pal.” She looked around - things were pretty sparse. It looked like she’d have to get up and - Hamish jumped up, almost knocking the table over as he got to his feet. Y/N startled before she noticed that Calum hand scooped up the ball and was ready to throw it, looking at her as if for permission.

“You can go ahead! He can catch it.” She said, praying her voice hadn’t just raised an octave. Calum flashed his eyebrows at her before tossing the ball underhand at Hamish, who tripped on his own feet trying to catch it. He got it on the second bounce, at least, and as Y/N looked up to thank Cal for helping out - shit, he was right there, planting his hands on the table.

God, it was hot, the way he’d face her square on. “Thank you for helping my idiot dog.” Y/N said, once she had caught her breath.

“My pleasure. He’s a sweetheart.”

“You can keep him if you want, he’s tried to get into the mushrooms three times today.” Y/N said, reaching down to scratch her dog’s head. “Yeah, I’m talking about you.” She cooed, but when she glanced back up at Calum he was still looking at her.

“How long have you been in town?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I got in… three nights ago? The B&B’s been kinda busy though so it’s nice to be out of the house for a little while.” You shrugged. It was common knowledge around the farmer’s market that your grandmother had been making a little extra cash running a bed and breakfast - but jesus, how were you thinking about your chores back home when there was Calum Hood in front of you? “How’ve you been, anyway? I see you here like every day of my life but we never get to talk. How’s your sister?”

Calum laughed. “Mali’s fine. Tryin’ to make it big in LA. She’s happy out there, I dunno. I -”

“Excuse me?”

You both looked. Some businessman was standing in front of Calum’s stand - big flashy watch on his wrist, impatience in his eyes. You were a little surprised Hamish didn’t start growling. “I’m trying to make a purchase?”

Calum gave you a stiff little smile before he turned around to help the man. “Sorry about that, what can I help you with?”

Y/N rolled her eyes a little. First asshole customer of the year.

The market ended up being a lot busier than she had expected; a bunch of locals ended up coming out, and she got to talk to her high school teachers and some old friends. Matt from high school was even working at the Waverly Stream Farms booth, and once Nanny had finally come back from making the rounds Y/N got to hang around him for a while and catch up. One of the stalls had a radio playing the local station, the same “80s, 90s, and whatever else” it had been playing since the day she was born. It felt right, to be back. Even in the cloudy weather, even with the wind blowing through your sweater, you were home, at least for a little while.

“Well, shall we start packing up, my dear?” Nanny sighed as she checked her watch. The market had officially closed ten minutes ago, but Y/N had taken care of a few stragglers.

“For sure. I’ll just give Cal his eggs before he forgets and then we can head.” Y/N said, picking the carton up from under her chair. Nanny didn’t say anything, which Y/N appreciated.

“Merry Christmas.” She announced, coming up to where he was putting the few spuds he hadn’t sold back into bags.

Calum looked up and gave her this massive smile. Over eggs. Y/N loved this guy. “Thanks, how much do I owe you?”

Y/N shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. No- half of them are the ones with weird wrinkly shells, we couldn’t really sell them.They taste fine, I had some this morning-”

“I’m sure they are.” Calum picked up the carton, weighed it in his hand. “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll tell mom and dad you say hi -”

“Oh, yeah, please. Duke too.”

“I will.” Calum said, glancing behind her for just a second. “And hey,” he added, “if you ever want to get out of the house I meet up with a couple of friends at McKeck’s on Thursdays. You should come down if your Nanny doesn’t need ya.”

Y/N felt her face get hot despite the wind. Calum had never talked to her like she had a life outside the market before - she had done the same, really, but - it was just kinda wow for it to happen. “Yeah, I’d - please, that would be great. I know Em just got back into town, too, I’ll bring her along if I can. What time do you guys meet around?”

“Seven thirty, usually.”

Y/N nodded, still smiling. It’s just a friend thing, she reminded herself. “Cool, I’ll see you then. Thanks for inviting me.”

He gave her a little nod as she started to step away. “Good to have you back, Y/L/N.”

“Good to be back!”

Y/N tried to keep focused on packing everything up after that, but it wasn’t easy. Excitement made her muscles feel a little lighter. Cal was probably packing up his own stand, she knew, but she couldn’t help wondering if he was watching. Friend thing friend thing friend thing. On her last trip out, she gave Calum a little wave, smiling happily when he returned it.

Maybe it was just a dumb childhood crush, but it felt really good to properly connect with him. Or maybe it wasn’t. Calum Hood had played hockey with some of her friends, he’d been at the afterparty for her prom out in the Stinson’s field - but she didn’t think he’d ever smiled at her quite like that.

Her grandma seemed to share her feelings. “Little Caylum’s grown up, hasn’t he?”

“I guess.”

“Let me tell you now, if I was - oh, forty years younger…”

A few years ago that would have shocked and appalled Y/N. But now? Nanny was gonna have to try harder than that if she wanted a reaction. “Try fifty.” She teased.

Her grandma gave her a glare that would have turned milk. Y/N just did a little smile until she rolled her eyes and focused back on the road. “Did you see those shoulders of his? Oh.”

“Yes, I saw them.” Y/N said placidly, giving Hamish’s head a little scratch.

“Next time you gotta wear those tiny shorts you’ve got. Get him to unload the truck.”

Y/N shook her head.

Thursday didn’t come soon enough.

I mean, didn’t Calum know there was practically a whole week between Saturday and Thursday? Why couldn’t he go out drinking on Monday nights instead? I mean, she knew why, but still. She hated waiting. And it wasn’t like she had anything else going on. Melanie, her best friend from high school, was staying in the city for some fancy internship. She hadn’t talked to Dylan or Rachel or the other Dylan for years, almost, no way was she gonna go hang out with them. And the Little brothers weren’t gonna be back in town for another two weeks. Plus there was so much work to be done - half the barn was collapsing, as always, so when she wasn’t cooking or doing laundry she was helping the handyman redo the walls of the stalls. There was something to be said for simple work and all but shit, there was a lot of it.

So Thursday was welcome.

Y/N got the truck for the night and picked up Emily before they got down to the pub. McKeck’s was pretty busy - it was the only place in town to get a drink, basically, so Y/N wasn’t surprised. Emily spotted the little group first. “You didn’t tell me the all the Australians were coming.” She said vaguely disapprovingly, before leading her over to the booth.

Ah. The Australians.

Calum had managed to find the only three other Australian families in the county to fall in with. He’d been practically inseparable from Ashton, Luke, and Michael all through school and house league and summer soccer. They could be rowdy when they got together, but they’d all gone to the school in the next town over, so she’d never really hung out with them in person. Anyway, there were only really three of them now.

“Y/N!” Luke yelled, announcing their approach. Calum and Ashton twisted in their seats. “Emily! I haven’t seen you in ages, not since you -”

“- taught you to skate, I remember. You were a disaster.” Emily said, sliding into the booth next to him. Y/N followed suit. She was across from Ashton, and she was trying really hard not to be disappointed about that.

“Can’t help it. It’s not in my blood.” Luke said, shaking his head. “Have you guys eaten? We’ve got nachos coming for the table.”

“That’s stupid, you barely have an accent now,” Emily objected.

“I’m gonna demolish those nachos while they’re not looking.” Y/N said, under their bickering. Calum snickered across the table. “What are you doing these days? How’s Lauren?”

“Lauren’s good. Julie’s gonna give her the china doll part in the Nutcracker this year, she’s so excited.” Y/N and Lauren had danced at the same studio in high school - they’d even been in a few dances together in the annual production of the Nutcracker. It was nice, to see the kids grow into the fancy tutus. “Me, I’m working at Curry Motors and doing some personal training at the new fitness place.”

Y/N had been away too long. They had a fitness place? “Oh, nice! Well, now you know I’m gonna call you when the Bobcat goes down.” She said instead. “‘S long as you’re any good.”

Ashton wagged his eyebrows at her. “I’m the best,” he said, and they both laughed.

“How’s your other Australian doing?” Y/N asked, looking between them.

“Mikey’s doing great, yeah. He’s still in the groupchat, he tries to keep in touch. We’re goin’ to his wedding next year.” Ashton said.

“He’s engaged?”

“Who’s engaged?” Emily asked, looking up from where she was yanking on one of Luke’s curls.

“Michael Clifford.” Y/N said, quietly, to catch her up.

Emily blinked. “Holy. To think I turned him down in grade 9. That could have been me,” she moaned mock-wistfully.

“It’s crazy to think what could have been, huh? Maybe if we had gotten our band off the ground in high school we coulda been living in LA with him.” Luke said. God, he was loud.

“Shit, I forgot about that. Are the videos still up on YouTube? Oh my god,” Y/N grabbed her phone. “What did you call yourself? Five Second Summer?”

“5 Seconds of Summer.” Calum said, reaching across the table for her phone. “And you’re not gonna - give it to me, I don’t want you seeing that. I was fourteen!”

“The ‘of’ is very important.” Luke added.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She felt too nervous to keep teasing him, so she put her phone down in her lap. She’d look up their old covers later. She had to see that. “Fine.” She said, like she wasn’t waiting for him to take his eyes off her so she could look it up. “But you better steal me a bottle of real fancy champagne from the reception.”

“Cross my heart.” Calum said, giving her a little smile. Y/N could have wrapped herself in it. “What about you? Big smart city girl. How much longer do you have at school?”

She took a sip of her beer. “I’m all gradumacated, man.”

Calum coughed. “Oh, already? Congrats!” Luke said, leaning around Emily to give his approval.

“Congratulations,” Calum echoed, looking almost shaken. Y/N made a note to investigate that later.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” In the meantime, she waved it off. This evening wasn’t supposed to be about her. “You guys have to tell me about that car theft that happened last week. Nanny tried to explain it but I’m pretty sure she’s either lying or crazy.”

“Nah, buddy, ‘s the craziest fuckin’ thing.” Luke said, almost elbowing Emily in the face as he attempted to get front and centre. “This kid was just walking around in town, right, it’s like six thirty in the morning, asscrack of dawn. Like, he’s a kid at the high school in town. Anyway…”

Y/N was, for the first time in ages, glad Luke was such a loudmouth. Under the cover of his noise, she could sneak glances at Calum. He’d been so surprised when he’d found out she was done with her degree. Where had that come from? They’d talked about school before, at the market. He knew what she was studying. He looked up from his beer, suddenly, and she focused back in on Luke so his eyes wouldn’t see the question in hers.

“...and so the homeowner sees him and gets in his other car and actually chases him down the road into the ditch and held him there until the cops showed up. Two cars before eight AM. Isn’t that crazy?”

Y/N blinked back to reality. “Jesus, and I thought Nanny was kidding.”

“Truth is stranger than fiction, doll.” Ashton said. Y/N would have kicked him in the shins for that in high school; thankfully, they hadn’t gone to the same one. And now she was an adult, so she just nodded and took another swig.

It would be too easy for her to fall into this, she mused. The hockey game was on - the Leafs were losing - the chicken fingers still came with celery and carrot sticks alongside the fries. And there was Calum, of course. She could make room in her week for this. She glanced away from the TV to find him looking back at her, giving her a little nod before he turned back to the conversation.

Maybe she could fall into that, too.

She’d had too much to drink, maybe. She’d better slow down. Y/N shook her head and launched herself into the current debate, if the town would or wouldn’t be getting a Tims in the next year.

Later on that night, as she paid her tab and packed up her things, Calum stood up, too. “Nah, I’ve got an early start tomorrow, boys.” He said to Ash and Luke’s protests. “I’ll see you next week.”

“C’mon, Em, your ride’s leaving.” Y/N hummed. Emily rolled her eyes, but she got up, too. Y/N didn’t really have to drive her over, but it was a habit left from high school. “It was nice to see you again, guys.”

“You too, Y/N! Welcome home.” Luke said as they headed out.

As they stepped into the dewy street, Calum asked her where the truck was parked. “Just across the street.” Y/N said, jerking her head at the parking lot.

He nodded. “I’ll walk you over.”

Y/N tried not to flutter when she heard that, but as Emily scoffed next to her she managed to keep her cool. “Crime rates gone up?” She said, sarcastic enough to make Em laugh a little in agreement. 

“Well, you heard Luke.” Calum grinned. She could see it in the light of the OPEN sign. “Two cars before eight AM.”

“I could kick your ass, Calum.” Emily said, rolling her eyes.

That seemed to change something. Calum took a step back, rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright, then. Have a good night, drive safe.”

“‘Promise.” Y/N said.

She was thinking about that for the rest of the night. While she dropped Emily off. While she drove down the highway home. Lying in bed that night, idly petting some cat that had crawled in, staring into the dark. Boys didn’t just try to walk girls to their cars, not girls who were their friends. Calum had never tried it, anyway. He had been trying to make a gesture.

Maybe. But maybe things had changed. She had been gone a while, after all.

Why did she even say that? Promise. Like she was trying to make a gesture, too. Gross.

Y/N rolled over and squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the cat’s little noise of complaint. She had all summer, at least, to figure it out.