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The first time they met, Ojiro was no older than 8.

It was also the first time of many that he asked for Ojiro’s name.

It was foolish really, to stray too far from the village but even at this young age, Ojiro felt restless. The village was small and its people were insular with the highest of suspicions towards the outside world and everything coming from it. It was just Ojiro’s luck that he was an outsider to this tiny village since he himself was a tiny boy of 3. And the villagers made it very clear how unwelcome he was, whispering darkly about the woods he was brought back from.

Of course it didn’t help that along with being an outsider, the little boy had a tail. A long, thick tail that nearly matched him in height and ended in a tuft as blonde as his hair. The villagers called it abnormal. Said he was cursed by the faeries and one day, if they were lucky, those faeries would come to claim him once more.

Maybe they would, Ojiro hoped as he grew older. Maybe the faeries would really come to claim him and he could just…escape all these villagers with their prying eyes and unkind words. He doubted any faerie could be as…mean or nasty as these people he was forced to grow up around.

But these were all just vague hopes and dreams of a lonely 8 year old and Ojiro was sure that even if faeries dwelled near their little village, they’d have no interest in taking him anywhere. So instead, Ojiro took HIMSELF places. He’d go further into the woods than his stepparents were technically okay with but as long as he was back home for supper, they didn’t really raise too much of a fuss.

And Ojiro liked these woods. The villagers definitely believed that faeries dwelled there and refused to venture far in themselves but Ojiro used that to his advantage. These woods were his escape and felt more like home than his home really did. It was here in these woods that he found the prettiest of flowers, often picking them to bring home to his mother.

That day was warm and practically cloudless, sunlight filtering through the leaves high above as Ojiro stumbled upon a large grove of strange looking orchids, nestled over a large patch of moss. He was sure he’d never seen flowers like this before and hastily decided that he wanted to bring home as many as possible, practically diving into the patch. They smelled pleasantly like vanilla and Ojiro couldn’t help but stop and sniff each one as he picked them, carefully piling them into his arms.

“Those are called Fairy slippers, you know,” a voice crooned from behind him and Ojiro practically jumped out of his skin, almost dropping his armful of flowers. He swiveled around quickly, tail clumsily swinging to the side so he didn’t trip and coming face to face with another boy. He sat on the grass not too far from Ojiro, his head tilted and an odd smirk playing his lips. Ojiro noted his untamed, violet hair and his bright red eyes and thought it odd how someone existed who could look like that. He couldn’t think of anyone he knew with purple hair or red eyes.

“Are they?” Ojiro said instead, peering at the large bushel of flowers in his arms, “they’re so pretty!”

The other boy’s smirk didn’t waver but his head tilted even more. “They are, aren’t they? Taking them somewhere?”

Ojiro shifted slightly, tail swishing from side to side, lightly grazing the grass. “My momma likes flowers,” he said fondly, “and she’s been working so hard. She’ll love them so much!”

“Will they live that long?”

“Of course they will! And when I get home I’ll put them in water,” Ojiro said brightly before peering up at the other boy once more. There was something about him that Ojiro couldn’t quite put a finger on and it made him frown slightly, studying the other. He must have been the same age as Ojiro himself, a bit scrawnier but with an air about him that made him feel…not quite real. Or not quite human.

The other boy was smirking still. “You’re quite far aren’t you though? And you’d probably have to run to get them home on time,” he said and something about his voice made the hair on the back of Ojiro’s neck stand on end.

Ojiro fidgeted, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. “That’s okay. They’ll be okay,” he said softly under his nose. The other boy straightened where he sat in the grass.

“Hmmm…” he drew out before plucking a blade of grass between pale fingers and standing. He was just a bit taller than Ojiro was but it made the blonde boy feel even more uncomfortable somehow. “I’m Shinsou,” he said evenly and that smirk never really went away as he raised a hand towards Ojiro, “and your name?”

And suddenly it all clicked. Ojiro’s eyes dashed quickly from the outstretched hand of the standing boy to the grass before him and how stupid was he to not notice the very, VERY obvious faerie ring the boy stood inside of.

Ojiro fumbled, nearly dropping all his carefully collected flowers in a panic. They were supposed to be just stories, weren’t they? He never really believed them to be completely true. But here, before him…stood an honest to the gods faerie boy. Trying his best not to let his panic show, Ojiro dug deep into his memories.

“Never give a faerie your name,” was his mother’s warning to him, “they can use it against you and you could disappear forever without a trace. Never, EVER, give them your name.”

Never…

Swallowing thickly, Ojiro tried to rack his brain for what to say. He couldn’t be rude. Faeries had powers beyond anything he could ever imagine and he didn’t want to get hurt. Or worse; get his stepparents hurt somehow.

“Your name, please?” the faerie boy said again, his hand remaining outstretched and Ojiro, not being able to think of anything else, stretched his hand out in return, just a little, but not enough that it was anywhere near meeting those groping fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I don’t think I caught your name, lord fae.”

The faerie boy blinked at him, his hand suddenly drooping before a chuckle broke from him and he peered down at the faerie ring he stood inside, clearly amused.

“That’s clever…and lord even,” he said, looking back at Ojiro once more as he clutched tightly at his flowers, “just for today then, go. And keep your flowers.”

Ojiro wondered at the faerie’s tone but it wasn’t malicious. He sounded almost entertained and Ojiro stumbled back a pace, managing to stammer something along the lines of a thank you before turning on his heel and fleeing through the woods. The vanilla scent of the flowers soothed his mind as he ran but he couldn’t help shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the only time he’ll ever see this faerie again.

The second time he asked for Ojiro’s name, Ojiro was 13.

He was 13 and just had his first major fight with his stepfather. Ojiro didn’t like confrontation. He didn’t like yelling at someone who had taken him in and given him a family when his own parents passed. But Ojiro hated this village. He was old enough to know how they treated him was wrong and bold enough to say something about it. His stepfather wouldn’t hear of it.

So Ojiro ran.

He ran passed the village square and the village outskirts and soon he was tearing through the trees at a steady pace, tears stinging his black eyes. It’s not fair. He’s not a freak…it’s just a tail…nothing more but a tail…

…It’s not fair…

Ojiro wasn’t sure how long he ran but suddenly he found himself collapsing into a large patch of moss. A very familiar patch of moss at that and Ojiro couldn’t say if he ran there on purpose or if his legs had carried him there unwittingly.

For the longest time, he had tried to forget the faerie boy and his grove of fairy slipper flowers. It was too scary to think about what could have happened had Ojiro not realized the ruse. But even now, a part of Ojiro wondered what it would have been like had he taken the faerie boy’s hand.

Had he given up his name.

Maybe he wouldn’t be here; curled up sobbing on a large patch of moss, arms wrapped tightly around his accursed tail. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. They were wrong…they were dumb and they were wrong.

“They’re wrong…” Ojiro muttered to himself, sniffing back tears and rubbing frantically at his eyes.

“About your tail?” came the question and Ojiro jumped despite himself, tearing his eyes open to peer at the faerie ring. There was the faerie boy, seated just as he was so many years ago, with his legs crossed and plucking carefully at blades of grass. But where Ojiro remembered a smirk, another expression had overtaken the faerie’s face. One that Ojiro couldn’t quite place yet.

“They say I’m a freak,” Ojiro muttered despite himself, sitting up but keeping both arms wrapped around his tail just the same, “they say I’m cursed.”

“Because of a tail? How stupid,” the faerie boy waved off, shifting where he sat to lean a little closer, still confined by the faerie ring, “a tail is something special.”

“Is it? It doesn’t feel like it…” Ojiro frowned, trying to focus on the faerie boy through his tear stained eyes, “…they said the faeries cursed me…”

The faerie boy blinked at Ojiro before snorting out a very loud, and not at all discreet, laugh. “Definitely not.”

Ojiro blinked at him through his tears. “But our village elder said…”

“You can’t believe everything human villagers say,” the faerie shrugged, still looking amused, “they don’t know much outside of their little world and don’t care to know any more.”

“Faeries don’t curse people?”

“We have better things to do than to curse boring humans.”

Sniffing, Ojiro reached up to furiously rub the tears from his eyes. Of all things, it was embarrassing to cry in front of a faerie. When his vision cleared more, he was able to see the faerie better. To Ojiro’s surprise, he looked to have aged, still matching Ojiro in years and when he spotted Ojiro’s stunned expression, the faerie snorted.

“We age too, you know,” he said with a shrug of a shoulder, hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. Ojiro wasn’t sure why, but the gesture came off as almost embarrassed. Still, not wanting to be insulting, Ojiro fixed his expression.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“I know what you meant,” the faerie cut him off, face turning neutral.

Ojiro shifted uncomfortably. The faerie boy, whose name Ojiro finally remembered as Shinsou, seemed to be studying Ojiro intently while Ojiro wondered if “Shinsou” was his actual name. It probably wasn’t…there were stories about faeries giving out fake names. Slowly and hesitantly, he hefted himself to stand.

“I should get back…” he muttered at last.

Shinsou’s expression grew strange. “You don’t have to go back to them, you know,” he said evenly, “you could stay here. With me. If only you give me your name.”

Ojiro swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry…I can’t give you my name…”

“Why go back to them at all?”

“My parents,” Ojiro said slowly, hesitant to say but feeling like he HAD to, “they’re all I have…I can’t leave them.”

Shinsou’s strange expression remained but for the moment, he didn’t press further. “Until we meet again,” was all he said and Ojiro couldn’t help but feel suddenly small and wretched as he turned and trotted back through the trees, his eyes stinging.

The third time Shinsou asked Ojiro for his name was when Ojiro turned 16.

It was the day of his birthday and Ojiro wore flowers in his hair. A girl he was very close friends with had weaved them into his blonde locks, laughing when Ojiro demanded to know why she had insisted on it.

“It makes you look distinguished, Mashi. Besides, today is your special day.”

“People will think you like me or something, Toru,” Ojiro said as he peered at his reflection. Toru snorted.

“Let them think what they want. You’re my friend and it’s your birthday. What better way to celebrate than with flowers?”

So maybe not everyone in this hell village was awful, Ojiro decided as he trailed his way through the trees, tail swishing happily. But then again, Toru was relatively new to the village and they likely bonded so quickly over their shared ostracizing.

Still, Ojiro liked her and it was fun to actually be able to speak to someone who didn’t make him feel like complete garbage. Sometimes, he even let her play with the tuft on his tail and today she had woven flowers into it as well.

The afternoon was bright and warm and Ojiro found a beautiful purple butterfly, flitting airily around the trees and what responsible 16 year old didn’t just decide to follow a butterfly? So Ojiro decided to do just that. Toru must have been rubbing off on him with how often they hung around one another but her cheerful attitude and willingness to seize the day helped Ojiro through some of his tougher days. As well as help him randomly decide to follow insects for no real reason and with no real goal.

So he followed the butterfly as it flitted between flowers and trees and only stopped when he realized just where he had wound up. There was that moss and that grove of fairy slipper orchids. Ojiro huffed.

“If this is a trick,” he blurted loudly and heard a small laugh from the faerie ring.

“What would make you think that?” came the question from the faerie, who was of course already there. Ojiro saw the butterfly flit around the ring before settling, quite comfortably, in Shinsou’s hair. Ojiro eyed it suspiciously.

“I wonder.”

Shinsou smirked his lazy smirk and straightened from where he had been leaning back on his hands. “Even if you followed it here, the decision on what to do is yours, not its,” he shrugged and Ojiro noticed just how tired he looked. He then wondered if faeries could even BE tired. Shinsou’s tired eyes seemed to be focused on the flowers in Ojiro’s hair.

“A special day?” he asked, head tilting as the wind gently ruffled his hair, barely disturbing the butterfly hidden in those violet locks.

Ojiro flushed, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “It’s my birthday,” he said bashfully, careful fingers finding a flower to pluck from his hair, idly spinning it. Shinsou looked curious.

“Birthday huh…”

“Do faeries not have birthdays?” Ojiro inquired, suddenly curious as he moved a few paces closer to the faerie ring, flopping down to sit.  Shinsou adjusted in the grass.

“Not really.”

“Weren’t you born though?”

“Not really.”

Ojiro’s curiosity grew. “Did you just…appear one day?”

“No, we were created. Molded, I guess you can say.”

“Molded? From what?”

Shinsou quirked an eyebrow at this new onslaught of questions and suddenly looked almost embarrassed, hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. “Different things…everyone is different.”

“What were you molded from?” Ojiro asked then stopped, “that…might be crossing a line,” he realized aloud, looking embarrassed himself, “I’m sorry.”

Shinsou looked in part relieved and in part disappointed but shook his head. “I COULD tell you,” he offered lazily, “if you give me your name.”

Ojiro snorted. “That’s not an even trade.”

“Isn’t it? It’s all highly personal,” Shinsou shrugged a shoulder, the butterfly moving in his hair to vibrate its wings.

“If you must call me anything, you may call me Ainsel,” Ojiro offered after a long, thoughtful pause. Shinsou snorted.

“A bit of a copout, no?”

“No. At least it’s A name.”

A long silence passed between them, Ojiro watching Shinsou curiously as the faerie seemed both dissatisfied with the answer but already resigned to it.

“When we first met,” Ojiro said slowly, “you looked my age. And you still look my age. Do you…actually AGE or am I just seeing what I want to see?”

Shinsou quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is this,” he said, motioning at himself, “what you WANT to see? Most young men your age would prefer a fair maiden of some kind.”

Ojiro blinked, as if not quite realizing what Shinsou meant at first before everything clicked and his face turned scarlet. “That’s…that’s not what I meant!” he stammered, his face burning far more than he would have liked, “I just meant…are you ACTUALLY aging? Or is this…some kind of reflection?”

Shinsou looked amused, head tilting to the side as Ojiro floundered. “Yes we age,” he said at last after watching Ojiro rub furiously at his burning cheeks, hiding behind his hands.

Ojiro’s hands tore away from his face, suddenly curious again even if his cheeks still burned pink. “Does…does that mean you can die?” he asked slowly. Shinsou shook his head.

“No. We can stop at any time.”

“Wow…that must be…nice,” Ojiro said, almost dreamily before catching Shinsou’s changing expression, “and NO, that doesn’t mean I’ll give you my name,” he added hurriedly.

Shinsou huffed. “You’ve grown quite brazen as you get older,” the faerie pointed out but didn’t ACTUALLY look that offended by it. Despite that, Ojiro grew quiet again, idly twirling the flower he had plucked from his hair. He still felt his stomach doing flips even though what Shinsou had said was clearly just teasing. Ojiro was just being silly…

“It’s getting dark,” Shinsou crooned over Ojiro’s thoughts, snapping him back to the moment.

Sure enough, the sun had slowly begun to set which meant Ojiro should hurry or incur the wrath of his mother if he was out too late. Sixteen or not, a curfew was a curfew. Slowly, he hefted himself to stand, peering down at Shinsou. He’d been thinking on something for a while, twirling the flower restlessly between two fingers before deciding to do something he probably shouldn’t do.

Slowly, he extended his hand, the flower carefully clutched between two fingers just so…

Shinsou’s face shifted in surprise but he reached up and easily plucked the flower from Ojiro’s grip just as it crossed over the line of the faerie ring, Ojiro ever so careful that their hands never actually touched.

“Till next time,” Ojiro said gently and was almost startled by the tone of his own voice. He turned then so Shinsou couldn’t see the embarrassment etching itself back onto his face and was almost through the trees when Shinsou called out after him.

“Ainsel?”

Ojiro froze, peering back at the faerie, who was now standing, wearing his lazy smirk. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Ojiro croaked when he finally found his voice before turning and disappearing out of sight, face as red as a tomato.

The fourth time Shinsou asked Ojiro for his name, Ojiro was 19.

Ojiro had grown quite muscular over the years, having taken up a job as the village blacksmith. The villagers, for the most part, had stopped harassing him quite as much but seemed to grow even more resentful towards him. They seemed to hate the idea that they actually needed him for basic tasks and the older villagers took it upon themselves to make his life as irritating and miserable as possible.

He tried his best to ignore their nagging and slimy insults but it was getting harder and harder to tolerate, especially when his stepparents announced that he was just that age to finally start looking for a wife.

And Ojiro just KNEW that he didn’t WANT a wife. Not only because many of the village girls certainly found any excuse to shamelessly flirt with him when he showed 0 interest and get into his personal space by whatever means. Not only because he didn’t even know any of them except Toru but because, if he was honest with himself, he KNEW that he didn’t want a WIFE. He didn’t like GIRLS. Not the way they needed him to like them to actually make any marriage to a girl bearable.

In theory, Ojiro reasoned, girls were great. He could theoretically speak to them and be friends with them and laugh with them and be kind to them. But that was in theory. In practice, most girls his age in the village seemed to be interested in him in almost transgressive manner, as if they KNEW it would upset their parents if they saw them hanging around the weird mutant boy with his long tail. He wondered if any of these girls ACTUALLY liked him in any manner. They certainly didn’t try to make friends with him.

It was of course possible that his parents would try to rope Toru into this. And Ojiro hoped and prayed that they wouldn’t do this to either of them. He liked Toru. Toru was his one and only friend and she was the loveliest and kindest person Ojiro had the pleasure of knowing but Ojiro also knew that he didn’t like Toru like THAT.

But he supposed the alternative to THAT was that Ojiro would be forced to marry a girl who probably secretly hated him and was only using this marriage as a huge transgression against everything her parents believed. And Ojiro wasn’t really sure which path was worse.

At least Toru liked him. But Ojiro also knew for a FACT that Toru didn’t LIKE boys that way. Not the way they needed her to like them to make any marriage bearable.

So, Ojiro thought glumly, they looked to be in the same boat.

That evening, Ojiro did something he didn’t think he’d ever really do and journeyed into the forest alone. He was 19 now and technically kind of an adult so curfew stopped applying. Carrying a lantern in one hand, Ojiro slipped from the village and under the cover of trees, only lighting it when he was far from any prying eyes.

It had been years since he went far into the woods but he knew the way almost by heart, following the unmarked path he could trace with his mind until he reached that ever so familiar grove with the moss and the fairy slipper orchids. The light from the lantern danced over the empty faerie ring and Ojiro sighed in defeat, flopping down on the grass near it. It was okay that it was empty, he reasoned. He couldn’t expect the faerie to constantly hang around here just in case Ojiro showed up but if he was honest with himself, he felt a twinge of disappointment.

Ojiro closed his eyes, leaning his chin on his knees with his tail wrapping around himself. Maybe they’d chat next time, he thought hopefully, head lulling to the side as the light of the lantern pleasantly danced over his face. Next time…

“Where are ya, ya tailed freak?!” came a cry from somewhere behind, snapping Ojiro from where he had almost fallen asleep and sending him quickly to his feet. He could hear someone crashing through bushes and smacking away tree branches as they drunkenly stumbled closer and closer. Ojiro shrank into himself.

Oh no…

Heart beating loudly in his chest, Ojiro wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to run. Whoever was coming towards him was clearly drunk and Ojiro was sure he could outrun them with ease. But his legs wouldn’t move and soon the large shape of the village stableman burst through the bushes. Even from here, he reeked of booze and Ojiro blanched visibly, sliding back a pace.

This man was taller than Ojiro by a good foot and much bulkier in built and Ojiro just knew that if something happened, he probably wouldn’t escape in one piece.

“You…you cursed freak…I saw you…” the man hiccupped, wheezing loudly as he staggered forward a pace.

“Saw…saw me…sir?” Ojiro stammered. The man glowered.

“I saw you with my girl…my daughter…making eyes…getting handsy…don’t think I don’t see.”

Ojiro’s heart hammered in his chest, hands raising defensively. “I would neve…”

“Shut up! I know…I know…you rat parents trying to marry you off…you ain’t getting her, you hear me? You freak…you curse…your parents…they…they think they’re so great…they think we need them,” the man hiccupped, “we don’t need them…we don’t need YOU.”

“Please…”

“Shhhhhh…” breathed an ever so familiar voice behind him and both Ojiro and the drunken man stopped to stare. Ojiro wasn’t sure when, but suddenly Shinsou was there and those red eyes spoke trouble.

“What the…” the drunken man spluttered but the fuming rage on his face was replaced with terror. Shinsou’s red eyes glowed in the darkness.

“Leave. Never bother him again.”

“What…are…y…” the drunk stammered out but by the way his expression had changed, he KNEW. And Ojiro could tell that he knew.

Shinsou’s own face was cold, his usual lazy smirk an unpleasant sneer. “You know what I am, human.  And if you value your skin, you will never bother him again.”

The drunken man seemed to be gulping for air, his whole body shaking and when Shinsou took a step forward, he let out a horrified screech and swiveled on his heel, tearing through the bushes and out of sight.

Ojiro felt his body shaking even as the sound of footsteps faded and it was all he could do not to collapse. He heard Shinsou move a little behind him.

“Are you alright?”

“I…” Ojiro tried and couldn’t think of the words.

“Come here.”

The words snapped Ojiro into the moment and he turned to stare at Shinsou. “I…”

“You will be safe here…I promise,” the faerie said evenly and his face was almost pleading. Ojiro swallowed and had he been in full control of himself, maybe he wouldn’t have listened. But he did.

Turning on his heel, Ojiro slowly and carefully stepped over the bounds of the faerie ring and it was like the very air shifted around him. Suddenly, Shinsou felt all the more real, his presence all around him and Ojiro couldn’t help but stumble forward, practically collapsing against the faerie.

It all felt like a strange, hazy dream, Shinsou’s arms circling around him, pulling him close and Ojiro knew that he didn’t want to wake up from whatever this dream was.

“This isn’t real,” Ojiro breathed hoarsely. He heard Shinsou make a small noise above him.

“Isn’t it? It feels quite real,” the faerie said easily.

“Does this mean I can’t go back?” Ojiro asked after a beat of silence.

“No…not unless you want to give me your name,” Shinsou breathed and it was almost as pleading a request as his expression had been. Ojiro swallowed thickly.

“I…”

“You can’t.”

“No…my parents…I can’t just…” Ojiro breathed desperately and when he looked up at Shinsou, his face was unreadable, “…Shinsou…”

The faerie sighed faintly but seemed like he had already expected this response. Careful fingers found their way to Ojiro’s hair. “Stay here…just tonight.”

“I…”

“You will be safe…you have my word. And tomorrow, you may return home,” Shinsou said, ever so softly and Ojiro, feeling too tired and panicked to argue, finally complied.

“Okay…”

“You’ll stay?”

“Only if you promise to let me go tomorrow.”

Shinsou’s smile was faint, barely illuminated by the lamp Ojiro had abandoned outside the faerie ring. “My word is always good.”

Slowly, Ojiro felt Shinsou lower them both to sit on the grass, Shinsou’s fingers still carefully gliding through Ojiro’s hair. It was nice, this feeling. And Ojiro found himself wanting more of this feeling. He didn’t want it to end and part of him hated himself for even thinking that. He NEEDED to go back home. Somehow, it was still important and he felt like he owed his stepparents his life.

“I never touched that girl,” Ojiro muttered, almost to himself after a long stretch of silence. Shinsou shifted slightly beneath him and Ojiro braved a glance at the faerie’s face. He looked calm, the red of his eyes shining dully in the faint light.

“I know.”

“I would never…”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For what?”

Ojiro inhaled deep, peering up at Shinsou’s face once more and finding the faerie looking back at him quizzically. Ojiro couldn’t help a weak laugh. “For all of this.”

Shinsou snorted. “It could have been worse. He wanted to kill you.”

“…I know he did…”

“And you want to go back…to that?” the faerie asked incredulously. Ojiro sucked in his teeth, burying his face in Shinsou’s chest. No…he didn’t want to go back. Not at all. But he also couldn’t just abandon his parents or Toru. They meant a lot to him and it just…didn’t feel right.

“I don’t want to go back…I HAVE to…at least…for now,” Ojiro trailed off and felt Shinsou relax under him.

“Next time?” the faerie asked.

“Maybe,” Ojiro replied and he felt a yes at the tip of his tongue but couldn’t let that yes escape just yet. It wasn’t quite time…

The last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep was Shinsou gently humming, fingers skating through Ojiro’s hair while Ojiro let his tail wrap around them both. When Ojiro awoke the next morning, he was alone in the faerie ring, feeling the most rested he had felt in years. It even helped him deal with the long walk home and the inevitable yelling he would have to endure from his mother about staying out all night and not coming home. But he could deal…

The fifth time Shinsou asked Ojiro for his name, Ojiro was 21 and almost gave in.

His parents had picked out a wife for him and it wasn’t Toru like Ojiro thought it would be. In fact, a few weeks after the decision, Toru had to pull him aside to tearfully tell him that they were moving.

“I’m sorry, Mashi,” she sniffed, rubbing at one of her eyes, “I don’t really have any say. I’m so sorry!”

Ojiro smiled weakly at her and pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay Toru…just…stay safe, okay?”

Toru nodded, still sobbing quietly into his chest and Ojiro felt his own chest tighten and his eyes sting. His only friend in this hellhole. Really, his reasons for staying here were starting to diminish slowly, Ojiro thought bitterly as he bid Toru a final farewell with the promise of letters. At least she was able to leave this place behind and hopefully, move on to better things.

That afternoon, Ojiro forgot his blacksmithing duties and wandered aimlessly into the woods, winding up in his favorite spot by his favorite faerie ring. He found Shinsou there already, stretched out luxuriously like a cat under the pale sunlight of late afternoon. Shinsou did not move when Ojiro approached but opened one eye, peering at him as Ojiro flopped down on the grass outside the faerie ring, tail automatically curling around himself.

“You look like you’ve had a week,” the faerie said lazily, finally stirring to roll over onto his side.

“My parents found me a wife and my only friend left town,” Ojiro grumbled into his kneecaps and Shinsou blinked, sitting up.

“I didn’t realize they were looking,” the faerie said slowly, eyebrow quirking up.

Ojiro grimaced. “Of course they’ve been looking. I’m far past marrying age, according to them. And I better settle down and have some children or I’ll end up a hermit.”

Shinsou’s head tilted. “Nothing wrong with being a hermit.”

“They don’t believe that.”

“And you don’t want a wife?”

Ojiro peered up at Shinsou at the question, frowning. “No…I don’t want a wife. Girls just…aren’t…my…thing…” he trailed off weakly and let his gaze rest on the grass once more, almost too embarrassed to look at Shinsou. He heard the faerie shift closer.

“What IS your thing then?” came the inevitable question. Ojiro flushed scarlet, still staring adamantly at the grass.

“I dunno…”

“Of course you do.”

“No…”

He heard Shinsou snort. “Liar.”

Normally, Ojiro would have bristled. But now, he stayed wrapped in his tail and staring at the grass with such determination, one would think he was trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes. “It’s not a lie,” he said at last, “…but it’s not really the truth either.”

“What is it then?”

Ojiro shifted and finally tore his gaze away from the grass to find Shinsou had moved to sit right at the edge of the faerie ring, staring at Ojiro intently. Ojiro’s blush returned full force.

“…I just…” he trailed off, thoughts half formed and Shinsou seemed to understand almost immediately. But he also seemed to want Ojiro to say it aloud which was frustrating on a whole other level.

“You just..?” the faerie prompted, his red eyes boring into Ojiro’s.

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Ojiro grumbled and Shinsou sighed, shifting where he sat and rubbing a hand over the back his neck.

“Denial isn’t good for you,” he said evenly, still studying Ojiro.

“Neither is whatever this is I’m feeling.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ojiro grimaced at that. “Don’t I? I shouldn’t be feeling these things at all but here I am and it’s so frustrating! I could have been normal, you know. With no tail and none of these…annoying…whatever they are to make people think I’m some kind of freak.”

Shinsou frowned, watching Ojiro tug at the grass in irritation. “It’s not right,” Ojiro muttered almost to himself.

“Is that what they told you?” Shinsou asked softly.

“They don’t have to TELL me. I can just tell from how everyone reacts. And it’s not just the tail. I think they all know that whatever girl I marry won’t be the one for me. I think they just KNOW and they think I look at their sons funny and they hate me all the more.”

Ojiro paused a long while and Shinsou stayed silent, watching Ojiro tug feverishly at the grass. “…I don’t really care about their sons either…they should probably relax…” he said at last and peered at Shinsou once more, “I think…there’s only person…but it’s not right…”

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you…” Ojiro started before catching himself, “I mean…isn’t it…uh…taboo?” he finished weakly, making Shinsou snort.

“It’s only taboo if you think of it that way. Do you?”

“Yes…I mean…no…I mean…I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Shinsou shifted even closer, his fingers just barely grazing the edge of the faerie ring and his eyes intense. “If you think that maybe this is taboo because I’m tricking you,” he said bluntly, “than you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

That made Ojiro flinch but he laughed. “I’m not smart at all…I’m here,” he paused, chewing on his bottom lip, “this…isn’t a trick?”

“It would be a cruel trick.”

“Maybe…but you keep asking for my name…”

Shinsou snorted loudly, waving the comment away. “That’s something you must give willingly. I can’t very well get it from you by force.”

“You almost tricked me out of it.”

“Once,” was the adamant rebuttal, “when I was a child as young as you. But here we are now. You say you’re an adult. Handle this like an adult.”

Ojiro stared at Shinsou for a long time, feeling his face burn. “I just…feel like I’m committing some sort of crime…somewhere…” he said at last. Shinsou said nothing but just gave him a look. And Ojiro immediately felt very stupid.

“Fine…” he said, “if you want the truth…the very criminal probably, truth. It’s…I think…it’s you…” Ojiro said at last and his tail wrapped tighter around himself, like a protective blanket, “I think it’s always been you.”

Shinsou said nothing for a moment and Ojiro thought he might disappear right before his eyes before suddenly a hand reached out from out of the faerie ring, careful fingers gently pressing to Ojiro’s cheek. “You’re so dumb sometimes,” the faerie breathed but there was nothing behind those words. Ojiro wheezed out a laugh before allowing himself to lean into the touch. His own hand moved, pressing the back of Shinsou’s and he felt so warm…Ojiro still remembered that night in Shinsou’s arms all those years ago and he wondered if that was the night that everything had finally clicked for him in his big dumb brain.

“Yes,” he agreed at last, laughing still, “I am.”

When he looked at Shinsou, the faerie’s expression was unusually soft, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was suddenly embarrassed. Ojiro grinned despite himself and slowly moved even closer. It was like Shinsou was waiting for that and he reached down, pulling Ojiro within the faerie ring and into his arms completely.

“I’m an idiot,” Ojiro laughed and buried his face in Shinsou’s chest, breathing him in. The faerie smelled of cinnamon and vanilla and Ojiro wanted to save that smell forever and breathe it in any time.

They sat like that for what felt like hours, Ojiro carefully rubbing circles over Shinsou’s back while Shinsou’s fingers found Ojiro’s hair until finally, the faerie spoke. “Does this mean you will give me your name?” was the anticipated question that made Ojiro pause his movements.

“Soon,” he promised and looked up to see the slight disappointment on Shinsou’s face, “I want to at least say goodbye,” he clarified quickly, straightening a little.

“To your parents?”

“Yes…I owe them that much.”

“Will they understand?”

Ojiro paused, considering. “They don’t have to know,” he said before burying his nose in Shinsou’s chest once more, his tail around them both.

The sixth time Shinsou didn't have to ask for Ojiro’s name. He was still 21 and he was going to die.

Ojiro was in tears and panting heavily, running frantically through the woods. It was 2 days after his badly done confession to Shinsou and when Ojiro finally returned home, he found it in disarray. The door had been busted off its hinges completely and several windows were shattered from the outside in.

Shakily, Ojiro forced himself inside the little house, calling out for his parents to find no answer but the howling of wind through broken window panes. Glass cracked under his feet and Ojiro heaved for air as he forced himself through his little home, desperate for any answer.

No answer came and finally Ojiro found them. They lay in a pool of their own blood; his mother’s head bashed in with something incredibly heavy while his father lay a few feet away, a knife protruding from his neck.

“Ma…p…oh…g…” Ojiro stammered, rubbing frantically at his eyes as if he could clear this nightmare out of them and haul himself back to reality. Reality remained with him…and so did the bodies and the blood.

“It…n…” stumbling forward, Ojiro collapsed on the bed by his mother’s corpse, his whole form shaking as he tried to grasp at her body. Blood stuck to his hands, to his arms, to his clothes but he ignored it, pulling his mother’s body into his lap, “n…I…why…”

What was this? This nightmare he couldn’t wake from. His boots felt wet, blood seeping through the soles and sticking to his skin and Ojiro wanted to scream. This couldn’t be real…who…why…why would anyone do this? His parents were good people. They were doctors. Medicine men and here they were…lying in their own blood.

His mother’s corpse felt like a cold stone, weighing him down and Ojiro felt like he would drown there until suddenly, there were voices. Voices from afar and voices from up close. And voices right outside their currently nonexistent door. Footsteps. Someone screaming.

Ojiro rasped for air and for seconds that felt like hours, he couldn’t move a muscle, still cradling his mother’s body.

“He killed them!” came a man’s voice and suddenly all of Ojiro’s mind crashed back into the moment with a sickening thud. He grasped tightly at his mother’s body.

They were ALL there. Somehow. Whoever had done this…they must have been there too, lurking in the crowd that they probably gathered. Who would be so malicious? So horrid and spiteful…Ojiro swallowed the lump in his throat. If he didn’t move…he would die too.

“No…” he croaked weakly. The man was pointing.

“He killed them! The freak finally snapped and killed them!”

The crowd roared and Ojiro remembered a nightmare he had since he was a little boy. The roaring, surging crowd. Being engulfed in bodies upon bodies until he couldn’t breathe anymore with nothing left in his mind but a tired pair of eyes.

Ojiro managed to carefully slide his mother’s body to the side. He couldn’t stay here…they would surely kill him and as much as he wanted and needed to process his grief and bury his parents there was a 100% possibility that he would get to do neither if he stayed. He surged to his feet just as someone lunged at him, Ojiro’s tail hitting the assailant full in the face.

In the end, he had no idea how he got out of the house, but he did. Two times, someone grabbed him from behind and both times, Ojiro’s tail was what saved him. Now he was running at a frantic scramble, trying his best not to trip. If he tripped, they’d catch him. The mob would overwhelm him and he would be no more.

Tears stung his eyes and he tried to furiously rub them away, only smearing blood on his eyes and cheeks and mouth. It was no use…he was stained forever. So he ran the well remembered path he’d taken so many times. He thought he’d have time to say goodbye to his parents. He thought he’d leave a note and sneak out quietly one night and they would be alright. They may have gotten angry or sad but at least they’d be alive and healthy.

But no…

Ojiro almost tripped on a tree root, bursting through the bushes and panting for air as he found that ever so familiar patch of moss with its ever so familiar faerie slipper orchids. The faerie ring stood empty, the sun fading overhead as night replaced evening and Ojiro’s heart clenched in his chest. No…

“Sh…I…p…help me…” he croaked and he heard…or thought he heard…the crowd…they’d catch him…he won’t survive.

But even as he spoke, suddenly there was Shinsou. He looked about ready to speak when the sight of Ojiro stopped him in his tracks. The faerie’s eyes widened.

“What..?” he breathed and his voice rang in the air like a bell. Ojiro’s eyes stung.

“…They’re dead…I didn’t…I couldn’t…I don’t know who…Shinsou…please…I…” Ojiro’s whole body shook. This isn’t how he wanted all of this to go…

“I just wanted…to say goodbye…I…they…someone…” Ojiro hiccupped, clutching at his chest with his bloodstained hands, a nasty realization hitting him with such force that he almost doubled over. Shinsou would reject him too. He’d turn Ojiro away and he would have no one anymore. No one at all.

Shinsou’s eyes were wide as he stared at Ojiro for one of the longest moments in Ojiro’s life.

“Shinsou…” Ojiro whispered weakly, his vision blurry from all the tears that he hadn’t even realized he was still spilling before the faerie stepped forward, extending his hand.

“Come here,” he said evenly and Ojiro couldn’t help the weak noise that escaped him, stumbling forward and into the faerie ring. Shinsou’s arms engulfed him almost immediately, ignoring the blood and the tears and Ojiro slumped against Shinsou, clinging to him for dear life.

“They’re going to kill me…” Ojiro breathed and felt Shinsou stiffen.

“No…they’re not.”

“They think I…I…” Ojiro’s voice caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way…

He was wheezing as he rasped out. “I didn’t.”

“I know,” was the soft reply.

“I would never…”

“I know,” Shinsou said, ever so gently and Ojiro found Shinsou’s hand gently gliding through his hair, “you loved them.”

“More than I could say…” Ojiro muttered, sniffing, “they gave me a home when no one else would…”

“…I’m sorry…”

“…Me too…this was all my fault…I…I should have left years ago…spared them…this…” Ojiro said weakly, “I never thought…someone would EVER…”

He felt Shinsou shift slightly and when he looked up, Shinsou’s eyes burned with contained anger. “They called you a monster and a cursed…yet one of them did this.”

“…Shinsou…”

“The only monsters I see is them,” Shinsou breathed and Ojiro was struck with just how much fury the faerie was holding. He hadn’t remembered Shinsou looking like this since that drunk tried to assault Ojiro all those years ago.

In the not so far distance Ojiro heard voices and he froze, his tail falling limp at his side and his fingers clenching onto Shinsou’s shirt so tightly he thought he’d tear through the fabric. They found him…they’d take him…

The crowd had broken into the clearing, some people trampling over the blooming orchids in their haste with their search and Ojiro was all but ready for someone to seize him by the tail and drag him away. But every time anyone even glanced at the faerie ring, their eyes shot past it entirely, looking off into the distance instead. It happened once, then twice…then 20 more times and Ojiro frowned. It was like they couldn’t see him at all, standing right in front of their very noses.

“Shinsou..?”

“They will never hurt you again,” the faerie breathed and his hold on Ojiro tightened.

Slowly, the crowd dispersed from the clearing once more until only Ojiro and Shinsou remained, unseen by any of the humans. Shinsou’s hold on Ojiro relaxed, but only barely and he peered down at him, reaching over to gently clean the blood off his face.

“Shinsou…”

“If you’d like,” Shinsou said gently, carefully wiping the blood off Ojiro’s cheek, “you can go back. Go somewhere new maybe…where people are not monsters.”

Ojiro blinked at him, his eyes hurting from all the tears and feeling completely dried out. Go back? Somewhere new? He looked at Shinsou and almost couldn’t believe the faerie would even entertain the notion…

“I…” Ojiro breathed, trying to collect his thoughts before leaning forward, his lips almost brushing Shinsou’s ear and gently whispered, “ask me for my name.”

Shinsou inhaled sharply and when Ojiro drew back, he saw the faerie was visibly surprised. “You…”

“…I’ve been wanting to give you my name for years,” Ojiro said after a long pause, eyes focused on Shinsou’s, “but I just wanted to say goodbye to my life before I did…now though…nothing is keeping me here…nothing at all. And…even if this hadn’t happened…I would have given you my name…”

Shinsou looked clearly taken-a-back by this and didn’t seem quite sure what to say. Ojiro smiled weakly, eyes sliding from Shinsou’s face to focus on his chest. “…It’s probably naïve…” he said softly, almost to himself, “but I think I lo…”

Shinsou’s finger found Ojiro’s lips, pressing to them. “…In order,” he said weakly and when Ojiro looked up at him, his surprise had faded to be replaced by the softest, fondest expression Ojiro had ever seen. Ojiro inhaled deeply…in…then exhaled…out. Here goes. Leaning up, he drew close to Shinsou’s ear...so close that he could whisper.

“Mashirao Ojiro,” he breathed and felt Shinsou visibly shudder at the words, the faerie’s eyes closing. When his eyes opened again, he too leaned in close to Ojiro’s ear, close enough that his breath tickled as he whispered.

“Hitoshi Shinsou…”

The words made Ojiro shiver before he suddenly realized several things all at once. “You…you gave me your REAL name since the beginning..?” he asked slowly. Shinsou nodded.

“…Why?”

Shinsou considered for a moment before shrugging, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck in dawning embarrassment. “It felt…right,” he said at last and his face cracked in a faint smile, “I wasn’t wrong. Plus, it wasn’t my full name. There’s only so much you can do with halves.”

“You…weren’t worried?”

“No,” Shinsou said frankly before careful fingers pressed to Ojiro’s cheek once more, “…if you’d like…we can set things right…before we leave…Mashirao…” he breathed the name out like a prayer and Ojiro felt his skin crawl with goosebumps, visibly shivering again.

“…Wow…”

“Names are powerful.”

Ojiro considered, sniffing faintly. “…Hitoshi…” he breathed experimentally and felt Shinsou shudder again, eyes closing for a moment. When he finally looked down at Ojiro, Ojiro looked thoughtful.

“…I want to set things right…see my parents off…” he said at last, Shinsou nodding.

“Let’s. It will be your last task here...do you think you’re ready?”

“…Yes.”

It was strange. Moving from the faerie ring felt different now than it had before and Ojiro felt strangely…okay…despite everything that’s happened. The tears had dried and he did his best to clean his face before they moved on to do the important things. They passed through the village as if ghosts, unseen by any of the village inhabitants even as they brazenly walked right through the village square. It was odd and honestly, not unwelcome, to not be ever seen by these awful people ever again.

They moved the bodies carefully, and Ojiro noticed with disgust that no one had come to even tend to them. He supposed that at least allowed him the proper farewell he had hoped for, even if they were no longer with the living. But it still made his blood boil. There was no honor in this…in how this village had treated his parents after everything they had done. They weren’t perfect, and Ojiro still wished they could have seen just what kind of people they lived with but he supposed that whatever faces these villagers put on when his parents were around were a completely different nature to what Ojiro saw.

He and Shinsou stood in silence together, having buried both in a beautiful glade, wild lilac bushes framing the area and surrounding the freshly dug plots like a protective barrier. “…Do you think they’ll be better off…in the afterlife?” Ojiro asked without even looking over at Shinsou, staring at his parent’s graves intently. Shinsou shifted beside him.

“I think they will find peace.”

“You’re not…just saying that to make me feel better?”

He heard Shinsou snort, peering over at him at last. “I wouldn’t sugarcoat this, Mashirao,” he said seriously, still seemingly relishing the use of the name he had longed to get for so many years. Ojiro shivered despite himself, gaze wandering to the graves once more.

“You’re right,” Ojiro said at last, falling into silence again for a long time. There were many things he wanted to say but for now, he said nothing. Ojiro inhaled deep, feeling his eyes sting again and unconsciously groped through the air, reaching for Shinsou’s hand. Their fingers met and he felt Shinsou’s fingers immediately interlace with his own. Like an anchor, Ojiro decided to himself and smiled tearily, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand and feeling thankful that he at least had memory enough to wash them of blood.

After a while, Shinsou’s hand drew away and the faerie promised he would return soon, slipping from the glade without a sound. It was only hours later that he returned, finding Ojiro in the same spot he left him, only sitting on the grass, speaking softly. His eyes looked teary again but Shinsou didn’t interrupt him, merely moving to sit beside the blonde.

When Ojiro finished, he peered at the faerie. “…Everything alright?”

“I took care of a matter.”

“Hitoshi?”

“Everything is alright, Mashirao…I promise,” Shinsou said softly and Ojiro had no reason to doubt him. And he wasn’t sure why…but he felt lighter.

The sun was starting to rise now and finally, Shinsou carefully nudged Ojiro’s hand with his own, only speaking when Ojiro looked at him. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Ojiro replied without hesitation and hefted himself to stand, reaching out a hand to help Shinsou stand as well. The faerie looked amused but took the offered hand just the same, pulling himself up. Ojiro seemed to be considering something, still clutching onto Shinsou’s hand.

“Hitoshi?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why me?” he asked at last, grip tightening only a little as he clung to Shinsou. The faerie quirked an eyebrow at him, making Ojiro swallow thickly, “why not someone else?”

Shinsou sighed faintly and, placing a hand on Ojiro’s shoulder, pivoted him so that they were face to face. “Mashirao…it would never BE anyone else. It was always you.”

At Ojiro’s confused expression, Shinsou smirked, ever so slightly. “I know I looked young when we met…just like you…but I’ve watched this village for years beyond memory and let me tell you; very few came from there who we’d even consider. I don’t know what it is about that place, maybe how isolated it is. But the people who come from there are…not good people. We don’t want them.”

“But I am?”

“Yes,” Shinsou replied without hesitation before a fond smile crept onto his face, “plus I liked you.”

Ojiro flushed pink but still didn’t let go of Shinsou’s hand. He wasn’t sure what he expected the answer to be but it was definitely not all that and it made him ponder back to himself and how he'd lived. So much time spent amongst people that convinced themselves and him that he was awful sure had a way of distorting one’s perspective. But here was Shinsou… an immortal faerie no less, telling Ojiro that he was good. That he was worth all this and that it wasn’t, as Ojiro had been afraid of for so long, some sort of cruel trick.

He couldn’t help but laugh finally, a faint, gentle sound that seemed to surprise Shinsou, judging by his expression but Ojiro was smiling. It was weak and it was still grieving but it was a smile just the same.

“I’m glad you found me…Hitoshi.”

Shinsou studied Ojiro intently before carefully pulling him close, wrapping his arms around the blonde. “…Me too, Mashirao…me too.”

It was so strange…just how comfortable the names felt as they spoke them. When he was warned about faeries, this was the opposite of what Ojiro imagined it to feel like. He let himself study Shinsou’s face, memorizing every tiny detail that he never really got a chance to take in before. He looked less tired now, the dark circles around his eyes only slightly visible, standing out against pale skin. Violet hair was as unruly as ever and Ojiro could swear he could see the faint twinkling of starlight in those purple locks. He wondered at that…was it ALWAYS like this and he was simply dumb and blind? Shinsou’s red eyes were stunning and seemed to glow from some fire within and Ojiro felt like they could see right through him. Maybe see into some hidden depths Ojiro wasn’t even sure he had.

He smiled at Shinsou’s quirked eyebrow. “Mashirao?”

“I’m sorry,” Ojiro chuckled weakly, “just…memorizing…”

“You’ll have all the time in the world now.”

At that, Ojiro smiled. “I’m glad,” he whispered, making Shinsou smirk before he leaned down, and without much warning, carefully pressed his lips to Ojiro’s. It startled a noise from the blonde but he soon found himself sinking into the kiss and letting his lips part in response. Somehow, Shinsou’s lips were as soft as he had imagined them to be and as rough as they appeared, finding a strange balance between the two. When he was 16 and realizing just how he felt about this strange faerie boy, Ojiro tried to imagine what it would feel like to kiss those lips and made himself incredibly embarrassed in the process.

Well, 16 year old Ojiro, 21 year old Ojiro was happy to report that kissing Shinsou was just as stunning as he had imagined, if not more so. When they finally pulled apart, Shinsou smirked, ducking down to press another, smaller kiss to Ojiro’s lips before finally straightening. Ojiro let his hands reach up, caressing Shinsou’s cheeks.

“Thank you…Hitoshi…for everything.”

“Always,” was Shinsou’s reply before he took one of Ojiro’s hands, pressing his lips to the back of it and nodding, “ready?”

“Yes.”

And just like that, they were gone. Ojiro still remembered the warmth of Shinsou’s hand and the taste of his lips as the two returned first to their faerie ring before disappearing altogether from mortal eyes to ever see again.

Ojiro would consider this to be the best decision he had ever made and would kick himself for not making it far sooner. But it didn’t matter in the end, they were together and, as Shinsou told him later, that man who hurt his parents could never hurt anyone again. And even though the rest of the village still lived, Ojiro could forgive the idea and leave them be. It was his greatest relief that he would never be forced to see them ever again.

And Ojiro could finally be with someone who loved him just the way he was and would never force him to do anything he didn't want to. For Ojiro…that was enough.