Chapter Text
It was past midnight when Yami finished putting the report together. Finral's notes and receipts were easy to follow, but that meant a hundred little details to put down for the official forms. Yami curled and uncurled his fingers, working out the unfamiliar cramps. He hadn't written that much in one sitting in years.
His back and ass complained when he stood up, too. He leaned back to crack his spine. Fuck desk work. It was a relief to douse the lantern and shut the study door behind him.
Without Finral to port him straight to wherever Henry's magic had put his room this time, Yami wandered a bit. The house was quiet aside from the occasional creak. An owl hooted outside. Yami found himself walking toward the vague feeling of Finral's mana signature, and didn't stop himself.
He frowned when he saw light in the crack under the door, then frowned harder at the restless ki from the other side. Finral was supposed to be resting. Yami rapped his knuckles against the door, only partially mollified by the muffled yelp from inside. It was followed by a resigned, “Hey, Yami.”
Yami opened the door, letting himself in. Finral looked about the same as before. Another book was open on his lap. From the angle and disinterested way Finral's fingers were toying with the next page, though, Yami didn't think he'd actually been reading it. The miso bowl was empty, but the onion was still sitting whole on the tray.
Yami didn't see a point in beating around the bush. “Go to sleep.”
Finral blinked, then sighed, slumping back against the mountain of pillows. “Tried. Gave up about half an hour ago.” His nose twitched, and he made a grumbling noise before blowing it loudly. Once he could speak again, he complained, “I can't breathe.”
“Should have sniffed the onion.”
Finral's expression soured. “No. That's right up there with your pickled plum hangover remedy. I'll stick to the medicine Owen gave me unless you know any remedies that aren't weird and gross.”
Yami inhaled to point out that medicine was pointless if it didn't work when Finral coughed. Once Finral started, it took him several seconds and a gulp of water from the glass on the nightstand to stop. The exertion left him looking even more exhausted, but too tense to relax.
It made up Yami's mind. “Right, one remedy coming up.”
“Wait, you don't have to-!”
Yami was already out the door.
*
Yami hadn't made tamagozake in years. Not since the time Owen benched him back in Grey Deer when he caught the flu. Yami felt one corner of his mouth tug up in reluctant amusement at the memory. 'Just because you've got the constitution of an ox doesn't mean you can be bull-headed all the time.'
Joke's on you, Owen. Captain of the Black Bulls can be as bull-headed as he wants.
Of course, then Yami went and recruited a squad just as stubborn.
It took less than a minute to whisk the egg smooth. A little longer to heat the sake and honey. Yami kept an eye on it to make sure it didn't boil, but took the time to rummage around in the pantry for one of the small sacks that Charmy used for spice mixes. He filled it with uncooked rice, tied it shut, and hung it near the fire.
When the sake and honey were at the right temperature, he poured the mix into the egg and stirred. It blended like he remembered. From there, he poured the result into a mug.
Yami grabbed the heated sack of rice and tossed it over his shoulder, then picked up the mug and headed back upstairs.
*
When Yami returned, Finral's expression was a cross between wary and flustered. “You didn't have to...”
“Too late, I did. You want to sleep or not?”
Finral eyed the drink with bleary suspicion as Yami set the mug down next to the empty bowl and the onion. “What is it?”
“Booze, honey, and an egg.”
“..an egg? Like, a chicken egg? Raw?”
“Yup.”
Finral's nose wrinkled in distaste. Before he could voice it, though, he twitched. An instant later he grabbed for a tissue, sneezing twice in a row before blowing his nose with a loud honk.
Yami stayed still, arms crossed and expression pointed. Finral tried to glare at him, but it wasn't particularly effective.
“Fine. Fine! I'll try it.” He picked up the mug warily, then tossed back half of it like a shot. He gave an anticipatory wince. Yami watched as Finral slowly relaxed, though his eyes were still narrowed suspiciously.
“It's... actually fine? So long as I pretend it's not raw egg.”
“Didn't you grow up eating caviar? You're not allowed to complain about raw egg.”
Finral gave him the flat, unimpressed look he'd patented years ago for 'I can tell when you're playing dumb.' “Don't act like you don't know the difference.”
Yami smirked, savoring the curl of warm satisfaction in his chest. That trick never worked on Finral. “You want it to taste like caviar? Could try adding salt.” He mimicked shaking a salt cellar.
Finral blanched, then shook his head. “Nope. It's fine.” He downed the rest of it, looking considerably less reluctant this time. Setting down the glass with a sigh, he grumbled, “I hate being sick.”
Yami retorted, “Then get some meat on your bones before you go skydiving again. Cold air isn't good for you. Here.” Yami took the still-warm sack of rice off his shoulder and held it out to Finral. “Put this on the back of your neck.”
Finral rolled his eyes, muttering, “That's not how you get colds.” But he obeyed, taking the sack and putting it behind his neck before settling back on against the pillows. Some of the tension bled out of his forehead and shoulders.
Yami expected Finral to launch into a lecture on germs and contagions and whatever other fancy explanations nobles tossed around for 'once one person gets it, everyone's gonna get it.' Be funny if he fell asleep in the middle of it. Instead, Finral said, “It's not even close to the highest I've gone anyway.”
Yami felt his eyebrows raise. “Seriously? Much higher and you wouldn't be able to see the ground clearly enough to portal.”
Finral flopped a hand in a dismissive gesture, shifting to get comfortable. “I didn't do it for that. I just wanted to see how high I could get after I got my grimoire.”
Yami remembered the feeling of tumbling through thin, cold air, and deadpanned, “Oh good, this started before you joined the Bulls. Nobody can blame me.”
Finral scoffed, giving Yami a half-hearted glare. “Like they would! It's perfectly normal to test your limits when you get your grimoire. You did it too.” He said it as confidently as if he'd been there.
Yami snorted, but didn't bother denying it. Finral knew him too well. “I didn't try skydiving.” Because he was morbidly curious, he asked, “How high did you get, anyway?”
“Not sure, actually.” Finral's gaze drifted to the night sky outside his window. Despite his complaints, it looked like the tamagozake was working. He already looked sleepier.
“Took me several jumps, since I couldn't gauge longer distances well yet. Just kinda... kept porting up.” His fingers twitched as if attempting to demonstrate, but the motion was sluggish.
Since the memory seemed to be lulling Finral to sleep, Yami kept on topic. Besides, it was interesting. “What was it like up there?”
“Cold. Then the ground got hazy. Got harder to breathe, the air was really thin.”
Unable to help himself, Yami muttered, “And you kept going? Geez, take a hint,” Only this guy, seriously.
Finral either didn't hear him or ignored him. His eyes were drifting closed. “The blue doesn't go up forever, did you know? It curves away under you. Past that, it's always night, even with the sun right over you. There's nothing, not even air. No sound. Just space and darkness. Nothing between you and the stars.”
This time Yami stayed quiet, no retort coming to mind. For a second, Yami could see what Finral was describing. Like brushing his fingertips against the edge of the world.
Finral's voice fell to a murmur, his breathing slow.
“It was beautiful.” He inhaled, slow and deep, and on the next exhale his ki quieted into true sleep.
Yami doused the lantern and slipped out of the room, closing the door without a sound. He exhaled, and reality resumed its usual flow around him. But the images lingered. The impression of a silent place far above, and the relaxed lines of Finral's face in the warm light of the lantern when he sank into peaceful sleep. The rest would help him feel better in the morning.
An owl hooted outside, and the house creaked as Yami walked the corridors to find his own bedroom. There was a small, soft smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.
I win. Bet he sniffs the onion next time.