Chapter Text
It was difficult to explain to a kid what a soul was, especially if that kid was one of your best pupils and looked at you with expectant eyes through his spectacles. However, Tsukishima and Akaashi’s Gerudo teacher was the incarnation of the principle “anything can be taught to anyone.” Ashai told them that the soul was something unique to each person, that it lived in the innermost parts of their heart, ready to help them balancing thoughts with feelings and, when an individual possessed supernatural gifts, with magical powers.
It wasn’t so strange, then, that Akaashi created his own image of the soul early in his childhood (and he would portray it the same way till the last of his days): a figurine which resembled in detail the appearance of its owner. To each emotion and thought that a mind could classify would correspond a reaction or a behaviour of the little friend who inhabited his heart. But even once he became an adult there was a thing he couldn’t still picture, that was how a soul could deal with magic. Or with the lack of it.
Tormented by doubts, lately Akaashi’s soul had been tiptoeing more often than not, its Achilles tendons burnt so much they could snap for good at any given moment. Apparently striving to awaken his dormant magical powers wasn’t enough for Akaashi. His forlorn spirit was indeed under an unbearable new pressure, not being able to come up with any plausible hypothesis on what drove Bokuto away.
The only method to avoid this strain was to ignore complex thoughts, but, regardless of Akaashi’s strategies to mute them, they were pretty much lively. Considering that he was going to meet Bokuto again in a couple of hours, after all, it was impossible for his mind not to drift to him and to the way he left, without a word.
That damn banquet, that damn heavy makeout session he and Bokuto engaged in some months ago, Akaashi too tipsy not to be bold and start things (but still enough conscious to know exactly what he was doing), Bokuto too smitten with him to even attempt to say no. Then something clattered near them and Bokuto came to his senses. Gods, Bokuto’s stuttered “We have to stop” still echoed in Akaashi’s mind.
He tried to fool himself concluding that it was better this way. Maybe Bokuto was right, a relationship between two Champions could be deemed highly inappropriate, they could mar the diplomatic relations between Ritos and Gerudos. And Akaashi knew that his everyday struggles to stir his powers complicated things even further while one could very often see Bokuto’s skin and feathers sparkle, as if a hidden energy was on the brink of casting those spontaneous spells Bokuto was so famous for.
But as much as Akaashi tried to convince himself that Bokuto wanted to be prudent, he knew that it wasn’t like him to carefully ponder things. Not that he was tactless. On the contrary, he was really considerate, especially when it came to his friends. He was capable to go to great lengths just to suppress his own magic, afraid he would hurt Akaashi’s feelings. But even so Bokuto tended to be more on the high side of the impulsivity spectrum, a guy who wouldn’t have given a damn about political matters, a guy who would never have stopped kissing with his crush so easily.
If Akaashi was even his crush, if he didn’t misread the signals Bokuto gave off during the time they spent together. Oh well, on the other hand, Bokuto was fidgeting and stuttering when he rejected him, a clear signal he was lying. He was a bad liar. The point was, why did he lie to Akaashi? He dreaded so much the moment he would see Bokuto again, since what he couldn’t grasp that night he could maybe understand while he was perfectly sober and staring into Bokuto’s eyes.
Insufferable tiptoeing for his soul, once more. Akaashi absolutely needed to stop thinking and stay focused on the task at hand. Relaxing, menial grooming.
Zafirah snorted and shook her head. The metallic parts of the reins rang because of her jolt.
“Ah, sorry!” Akaashi apologized and stroked her forehead while she nuzzled his face. He cooed some praise and resumed his ministrations, going in slow gentle circles on her neck, mitt in his right hand.
Tsukishima huffed from above, dangling his leg over the edge of the mezzanine. “Leave the poor thing alone, Keiji. It’s the second time you have gone against her fur. Your mind is elsewhere. I am calling the stableman assigned to her.”
Akaashi stopped him. “This won’t work. The new one doesn’t understand her a bit.”
Zafirah nodded and gently poked Akaashi with her muzzle. He chuckled and gave her a smooch right above her nostrils, “Showing some affection, thank you.” He brushed her flank and soon after gentled her when he approached her right foreleg. “Yes, like this,” he hummed, satisfied, “good girl.”
“Ugh, lewd!” said Tsukishima. He ducked his head to avoid the mitt Akaashi flung at him and snickered. “You’re losing your shine, champ.”
“I’ll be right back,” Akaashi whispered to Zaphira and went towards the mezzanine.
He knew what his friend was trying to do: playful Tsukishima was an effective antidote against every kind of moping. Akaashi slowly climbed some steps of the ladder in order to drag his friend down and tightened his grip on Tsukishima’s arms, but his friend didn’t flinch even a bit. He locked eyes with Akaashi, whose right hand’s fingers were now curled around his bare foot.
“Oh, so I have lost my much appreciated shine, haven’t I?” asked Akaashi in an impish tone. He started to rub circles with his thumb on his friend’s ankle, near a ticklish spot, ready to start the fight.
Tsukishima shivered but he quickly composed himself and leant over, tucking a lock of those unruly, ink black hair behind Akaashi’s ear. “Old habits die hard...” Tsukishima murmured, surprising Akaashi. Now free from his friend’s hold and facing him, Tsukishima climbed down the ladder so that no more space was left between them. Keeping eye contact, he gently pushed Akaashi backwards, looming over him till their feet were on solid ground. He then managed to place a hand on the waist of a now squirming Akaashi and started tickling.
After some laughing and wriggling Akaashi ended up sprawled out on the ground, Tsukishima toppling over on him. But something softened the fall, a crumpled mess of blankets, Tsukishima’s bed ones.
“A summoning charm?” Akaashi asked between giggles.
Tsukishima talked in the crook of his friend’s neck, “I’m taking advantage of your dormant powers every time I can. Having you this close has become a luxury I can rarely afford.” They went still, enjoying the closeness, giving and receiving a hug they hadn’t shared very often lately.
When they were kids it didn’t bother Akaashi so much that Tsukishima possessed magical powers, it was so fun to watch his friend drawing figures in the thin air and improving his skills every day, to the point that when Tsukishima was 10 he could create a full-fledged ultra-realistic hologram.
The pranks they played! How many times a frog appeared over their teacher Ashai’s long red ponytail, how many times a palm heavy with dates in the middle of an empty courtyard.
It still was awesome when some time later they discovered that Tsukishima could actually make objects appear if he was touching Akaashi while chanting the charm. Well, already existent objects which were located not too distant from the place the boys were. They soon understood it was something dormant in Akaashi which allowed Tsukishima to cast a summoning spell.
They tried to summon anything, from tools to animals, in order to the test and increase the strength and the range of this strange power stemmed from their joined efforts. Not that Akaashi needed to do anything other than keeping physical contact with Tsukishima and concentrating a bit. Plus, he only felt a bit drained afterwards.
But, as much as happy Akaashi could be that Tsukishima was an amazing magician, even if he was proud of himself, in a way, because it was only thanks to him that his friend was able to cast the most complex spells, it wasn’t enough. Akaashi couldn’t live just to enhance Tsukishima’s powers. He was nothing without his friend.
Akaashi already was a weirdo, a so rare male between female Gerudos, a pale boy between dark-skinned women and girls. But so Tsukishima was (and they bonded due to this as well). With the exception that Tsukishima was weird also because he possessed magical powers even though he was born in family without any mage ancestor and Akaashi was a freak of nature because of the opposite reason.
Akaashi was destined to become the new Gerudo Champion, that was what everyone was expecting from him, and each Champion had always been graced with supernatural powers way before earning their title. As history had demonstrated, only really few Champions acquired their supernatural gifts after winning the Champion tournament. Everyone kept repeating him that he could very well be one of those special Champions, but who could really know that?
Then at the age of 21 he won the tournament, a quite impossible feat for someone without an ounce of active magic in him, but his powers still didn’t show up. Nothing changed, and Tsukishima started to avoid being too close to him because he probably didn’t want to inadvertently cast a spell and upset Akaashi.
He wondered if Tsukishima was thinking about his friend’s pitiful state. After a little bit more of silence, Tsukishima helped Akaashi up and deadpanned, “My apologies, Prince.”
Akaashi chortled, “Thank you.” His eyes then softened when he witnessed Tsukishima’s blush.
Tsukishima dusted himself off, climbed the stairs to the mezzanine and adjusted himself on his makeshift pillow made of straw. He cleared his throat, “Adulthood sucks. Things were much more simple back then.” He coughed, “by the way, you’ll nail it this time as well, doesn’t matter if the diplomat visiting us is Bokuto.” He slouched and picked up the scroll where Akaashi’s speech was written in nothing else than Rito language. He stared Akaashi in the eyes, silently saying, “you’ll nail because it’s Bokuto: you’ll never going to be a heartbroken damsel.”
Akaashi groaned, “Of course, it’s gonna be alright.” He straightened his back before turning to Tsukishima to retrieve his mitt. He returned his attention to Zaphira. “Well then...” his voice suddenly produced foreign sounds, “ It is of the utmost importance that Ritos and Gerudos now join their forces in order to defeat the threats coming from the evil spirits - ”
Tsukishima whistled, “So formal!”
“Oh could you really... please, just let me -“
The crackle of gravel distracted the both of them.
A servant came running. “Prince Akaashi! I am deeply sorry to disturb you,” still panting, the man had to lean over his knees to regain his breath, bent like a worn book struggling not to fall into pieces. “A sandstorm is raising.”
“How come? We would have witnessed it by this time,” Tsukishima spoke.
“No, sir, it’s going over north-west, alongside the route -”
“Bokuto!” Akaashi yelped.
Tsukishima put on his shoes in haste and hopped down from the mezzanine, his tone tense when he spoke again, “Let us take care of this. Get our horses and travel backpacks ready. We are leaving in fifteen minutes, alright?” Tsukishima squeezed Akaashi’s shoulder and turned to the path to the main building.
Akaashi brought Zaphira to the servant and instructed him, “Zaphira only needs a bit of soft brushing.” He was going to leave but hesitated, “Oh well, thinking about it... I need a two-seat saddle. And check again her hooves. And -”
The servant quickly anticipated Akaashi, “Let me add a stretcher as well, Prince, pray gods you don’t need it.” Akaashi nodded and rushed to catch up with Tsukishima, who immediately came to a halt as soon as his name was called.
“There’s no need for you to come, it’s dangerous. I can bring Aone with me...”
“With all due respect for the silent giant, you would die out of boredom in the desert,” Tsukishima tried to lighten the mood a bit.
Akaashi shook his head, “Yeah, of course.”