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Yamamoto woke up slowly, the morning sun streaming in the small window of the shack and crawling across his face. He groaned and scrunched his face at its rude intrusion on his sleep and flopped over to his stomach. As he reached his arm up to hug the pillow, he froze when his hand felt nothing but empty bedding next to him. He gasped as he sat straight up, instantly awake and searching the bed for any sign of his bed partner. His heart throbbed, the lurking fear of being abandoned consuming every rational thought in his head.
“Hey, Stupid. I’m right here,” An irritated voice said behind him. Yamamoto flipped around, sending blankets flying and spotted Kenma across the room as he poked at their makeshift fireplace. He didn’t even try to mask his relief as he heaved a loud sigh and rubbed his palms over his face.
“I’m sorry, Ken. I can’t help but worry.”
Kenma stared back at him, the light from the fire casting a warm glow across his face. It was subtle when his expression softened. Had anyone else been watching they wouldn’t have been able to tell, but it had been months since they’d been thrown together, and Yamamoto could read every twitch of his eyebrow.
“I’m not going to leave you again,” Kenma finally replied, turning back to the fire. “I promised you a long time ago.”
“Yeah… you did.”
He remained on the bed for a few minutes, rubbing his chest as his pulse returned to normal. He watched Kenma pull a steaming teapot from above the fire and set it on their rickety table. Everything they owned had been bought by passing travelers or built in Yamamoto’s spare time. And considering they didn’t have a lot of money, it was Yamamoto’s own templar armor that had been traded, so they could live and eat. Now to any passerby, they looked like a couple of Ferelden peasants instead of a templar and mage glued to that spot by his own righteous sense of duty.
“Come get your tea. Or not, you can drink it cold if you want.”
Yamamoto’s chuckle faded into a groan as he stood up and stretched toward the ceiling. “Do we have anything left to eat?”
“A little, but after today we’ll probably starve.”
“Nah, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Kenma glared and used more force than necessary when setting a plate down in front of him. “Your optimism can’t magically bring us food. I can still travel into Redcliffe and sell my staff. There are still rebel mages wandering around.”
“No, you’d have no way of protecting yourself if you sell it.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here, though?”
Yamamoto had just taken a bite of the bread but paused his chewing to catch Kenma’s gaze. The slight smirk on his lips was teasing, causing another flutter to his pulse and his cheeks to heat up. It was an interesting question because as a templar it was his duty to control mages and keep them from harming others. That was what he had believed all throughout his youth as soon as he started his training, and he held to that truth until the whole world went insane.
The mages rebelled against their captors and escaped, some taking refuge in Redcliffe castle and minding their own business while others performed violent acts against anyone they could find, even innocent villagers. The templars had their own rebellion against the Chantry and took to behaving just as irrationally as the violent mages. Yamamoto was lost in a sea of chaos with no outlet for his sense of duty. All his fellow templars were either killed or lost their minds like the rest, and for the first time in his life, he had no one to rely on.
He needed to do something though, so he decided to defend the innocents caught up in the riots. He wandered from village to village, defeating both mages and templars alike if they couldn’t be reasoned with. In exchange, the villagers were kind and gave him any food or money they could spare.
Eventually, the Divine called for a Conclave for all the parties at war to meet at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, a gathering that was to put an end to the senseless war and come to some sort of compromise. Yamamoto considered attending himself, but there were still idiots attacking villagers and he couldn’t abandon them. It ended up being the smartest decision he had ever made when the Temple exploded in a supernatural event, leaving thousands dead, including the Divine.
That in itself was horrific, but the explosion caused a breach in the Veil, the barrier between the physical world and the spiritual one called the Fade. All over the world, eerie bursts of green light erupted in the sky and allowed demons to pass into their world. Yamamoto was nearly consumed with despair when he first encountered one himself. At the time it felt like the end of the world had finally come. Crazy templars, rabid mages, and then demons, just more things for Yamamoto to fight without anyone watching his back.
It was lonely and disheartening, and he was just waiting for the day when one of those monsters would finally defeat him. It must have been fate that led him through a random field one morning near Redcliffe and found a rift churning in the sky near a dilapidated shack. One lone mage stood in the field as he fought the demons off, and it only took a glance for Yamamoto to see that he was losing his strength. He charged in with a bellowing shout, swinging his broadsword straight into a rage demon that had been frozen from the mage’s magic. It shattered into hundreds of ice shards in the most satisfying way he could imagine.
Most of the demons had already been taken care of by the mage but there was just one Shade left, the cloaked demon lurking toward him with its clawed hands outstretched. His skin flooded with heat as if he had slid into a soothing bath. He had no idea what it was, but he suddenly had a burst of strength and energy. The Shade had already been weakened, so it only took a few hits of Yamamoto’s sword for it to disintegrate, leaving the field quiet and devoid of demons for the moment.
He glanced up at the rift, the churning green light sending a shiver down his spine. There was no way to stop the demons from coming through, but he knew they didn’t come through constantly. He turned his attention instead to the slender mage sitting on the ground, his blonde hair falling in his face as he hunched forward. The staff was resting slack in his hands, so Yamamoto decided to throw caution into the wind and replaced his sword in its sheath.
“Hey, you alright?” He asked as he approached slowly. The young man lifted his head and his hair spilled away, revealing a cute face bedecked in cuts and dirt and a pair of radiant amber eyes. As if he could read Yamamoto’s thoughts, he glared up at him petulantly and tightened his grip on his staff.
“I’m tired but I can still defeat you if you try to hurt me.”
Yamamoto pursed his lips to try to mask his smile and held up his hands. “Easy, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“How could I trust you?”
“Well, I did save your life.”
The young man relaxed slightly but kept a suspicious gaze on him. “Thank you. You can leave now.”
“Do you live there?” Yamamoto asked, nodding to the shack.
“And if I do?”
“Why would you live right next to that?!”
The young man glanced up at the rift and shrugged. “I’d rather fight demons than stupid templars. Their motivation is purer.”
“Yeah, I can’t deny that. But it’s dangerous doing it by yourself, why don’t I help you?”
“Why would you help a mage?”
“Because you’re the first person I’ve found that’s doing something productive, and I’m tired of fighting on my own. What do you say?”
The mage stared at him for a while. Yamamoto wasn’t sure if the mage thought he was crazy or lying but eventually, he shrugged and tried to stand on his wobbly legs.
“Do what you want.”
“Great! What’s your name?”
“Kozume Kenma.”
“Hi, Kenma! I’m Yamamoto Taketora, but my friends call me Tora. You can call me that too if you want.”
“No thanks.”
Yamamoto squawked at the mage’s rejection but quieted down when he caught a slight smirk on Kenma’s lips.
It was an odd partnership, one that logically shouldn’t have worked. They bickered over the smallest things but whenever the rift poured demons out, they were a united front. The warmth of Kenma’s magic pouring over him felt stronger than his armor ever did and Kenma’s quiet presence soon wafted away any wisps of loneliness still plaguing him.
There were times, however, when Kenma left him, his distrust of templars spurring him to escape from Yamamoto although he was doing nothing to hold him captive. Yamamoto hadn’t cried since he was a child but finding himself alone again, he could do nothing but wrap his arms around his stomach and weep in front of the fire. Yet Kenma always came back without any explanation of why he decided to return, and Yamamoto was so relieved that he never demanded one.
Kenma’s disappearances only happened a few times at the start of their partnership. One day he made his promise to never leave him again and he had held fast to that vow. Yamamoto had faith that Kenma wouldn’t leave him again, but the fear of abandonment still lurked in the recesses of his mind.
He was suddenly drawn from his dark thoughts by a sharp pain on his arm.
“Ow! What the hell?”
Kenma smirked down at him and released his arm from the pinch of his fingers. “Stop thinking useless things, you’re bringing the mood down.”
“Ha! What mood? I never took you to be a bucket of sunshine, Ken.”
“Fine, wallow if you want. I’m going to see if we’ve had any new sprouts.”
Yamamoto caught his arm before he left and reached up to slip a few strands of blonde hair over Kenma’s ear. “You want me to tie your hair back first?”
Kenma tried to hide the pink fluttering across his cheeks by hiding behind his shoulder, but not before Yamamoto caught a glimmer of it. “Fine, do it quickly though. I need to get in the garden before the rams do.”
“If they do, then I can shoot it. Then we’d finally have some meat.”
“And no herbs to heal you next time the demons come out.”
“Meat will replenish my strength. Now sit,” He commanded gently as he hopped up from the chair and bumped Kenma into it. He sat down with a huff but didn’t complain as Yamamoto gathered the hair falling in his face and twisted it back. Kenma could have easily done it himself but he never bothered, and Yamamoto never complained. He yearned for moments like it where he had a perfect excuse to touch Kenma. It was all he allowed himself considering he was craving to wrap the mage up in his arms and hug him to bits. They had already come a long way from when they first met, and he would wait as long as it took to move further. He knew it would be worth it in the end.
He smiled as Kenma leaned his head back with his eyes closed, his body completely relaxed. It reminded him of a cat he used to have as a child, one that would hiss whenever he approached but occasionally enjoyed a good pet, on his own terms of course. Though they hardly lived like kings, Yamamoto prided himself on keeping Kenma fed and healthy. Most of the mage’s old scars had healed and a pleasant color rose on his skin. Yamamoto wanted to lean down and whisper against his forehead how lovely he was, but no doubt such an action would end in a broken nose. One day…
He was just able to finish tying Kenma’s hair back when a shriek cut through the air. Kenma’s eyes flew open and he flew across the room to grab his staff. Expletives flowed under Yamamoto’s breath as he did the same, snatching up his broad sword and running out the door after Kenma. He wasn’t two steps out when he felt the familiar warmth of Kenma’s protective magic wash over his skin.
Two terror demons were already wandering around the field, green creatures that towered over them with their stick-like legs. Surrounding them were a few wraiths, apparitions hovering in the air that could fling beams of energy as a defense. It was difficult to describe the effect of being hit by them, especially since it was a bit of a mind-scramble. It usually renders him useless for a moment or two, along with some crippling pain all over his body. He didn’t need to worry about those with Kenma’s magic flowing over him, so he ran at the first terror demon and struck at its legs. It threw its head back with a scream and he didn’t wait to lift his sword again to give it another whack.
“Tora, look out!” Kenma yelled but he didn’t have a chance to look around as he was thrown up into the air and landed hard on his back. The other terror demon wailed in his face and held up a claw, ready to slash down and slice him open. Its movements slowed as it brought its claw down, a layer of ice crawling over its skin until it was frozen stiff right over him. Yamamoto tightened the grip on his sword and slammed the blade on top of its head, a hit that shattered the demon to pieces.
He had no time to rest when he heard Kenma grunt in pain. The mage twirled his staff in his hands as he sent a ball of fire to catch on the other terror demon that Yamamoto had injured earlier, but the wraiths kept pummeling him with their vicious attacks. Yamamoto hopped to his feet and sliced his blade through the first wraith he could get to, and a few more times until it disintegrated into light and flowed up into the rift. The injured terror demon wobbled in the air, shrieking as flames danced across its skin. Yamamoto ran for him shoved his sword right into its waist, ending the spine-tingling screams once and for all.
Without the terror demon’s presence, Kenma could finally concentrate on the remaining wraiths. Yamamoto took one moment to glance at him, his heart racing as Kenma’s eyes flashed with fury and lightning rippled through the air. He couldn’t help but think how sexy the mage looked when he got that angry. He tore his eyes from the vision and observed every wraith in the clearing shuddering in the crackling light, momentarily stunned. Yamamoto took the chance to rush at the next one closest to him, leaving Kenma to focus on the last two.
Once every demon was defeated, silence settled over the clearing. Yamamoto wiped his sweaty forehead on his sleeve and sighed as a refreshing breeze cooled his skin. He turned toward Kenma and flinched when he caught sight of the mage’s terrifying glare.
“What?!”
“You always do that,” He spat back and whirled back into the shack without another word. Yamamoto clamored after him, trying his best to clean his sword on a spare rag he kept in his back pocket.
“What do I always do?”
“Rush in without thinking. You know the terror demons pop out underneath you. I told you to keep moving when attacking, so they won’t catch you!”
“Oh, that. Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry to me. You’re the one who’s going to die.”
Despite the anger rolling off his friend in waves, Yamamoto snickered and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Hey, I’ll try and remember next time. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Kenma stood still with the weight of Yamamoto’s hand on his shoulder, silent as a strange tension filled the space of the shack. He hadn’t shrugged him off yet, so Yamamoto felt the urge to push a little further.
He covered both Kenma’s shoulders and rubbed gently, letting his thumb roll up Kenma’s skin to the base of his neck. A quick intake of breath could be heard in the quiet of the room, but Kenma had yet to pull away. Yamamoto gulped and continued gently pressing on the narrow shoulders, daring to travel over them and down Kenma’s arms. He took a step closer, his chest a whisper away from pressing into Kenma’s back when the mage finally stepped out of his grasp with a cough.
“Sit down, I need to clean your head.”
“You need to— what?”
“You’re bleeding. I was going to patch it up, but you distracted me,” He scolded as his hands fumbled with the basket where they kept their wrappings and healing herbs. Yamamoto patted his head and winced when he hit the cut and felt a warm trickle of blood on his fingers.
“Shit, I didn’t even realize.”
“Of course, you didn’t. You never realize anything.”
Yamamoto blinked in confusion. What was it he was supposed to realize? Was he talking about the demon? Kenma huffed when he hadn’t moved and grabbed his arm, shoving him onto the chair while keeping his face hidden from his sight.
“Don’t speak, don’t move.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ouch!”
“I told you not to talk.”
Yamamoto smiled as he closed his eyes. He didn’t mind the occasional sharp pain, especially if Kenma’s cool fingers were accompanying it. His body gave an involuntary shiver when Kenma’s warm breath wafted over the back of his neck, and he smiled even wider at the soft huff of a laugh.
Kenma often made fun of him a lot for being too much. He was fine with that though because he knew that he enjoyed it more than he let on. Yamamoto used to tease him back about not being enough, not doing enough. Over time, he felt differently about that as well. Kenma’s subtleties could lure him into a state of serenity where he could focus on all the mage’s nuances. He loved every single one of them.
To their relief, there were no more demons for the rest of the day. It allowed them to pick what they needed from the garden and continue about their day as if there wasn’t a doorway to the spiritual world hovering right outside their door. Most of all, the quiet gave them a chance to rest and plan out their next move.
“We still have that old bow and quiver that we haven’t sold yet. I’ll go out in the morning and try to get a ram.”
“You really think you’ll catch something? Your aim is shit.”
“It’s better than yours.”
“I can use my magic.”
“And if there are still templars roaming the woods?”
“You know you are a templar, right?”
“I’m not crazy though. Listen, you’re staying here and that’s final.”
“Who made you the boss of me?”
“Do you really want to go tromping around in the woods, kill a ram, and haul its carcass all the way back here without any help?”
“Ew, no. You can do it,” Kenma finally relented with a scrunch of his nose. Despite the pointless argument, Yamamoto laughed and reached across the table to ruffle his hair. A growl rumbled through Kenma’s throat, and Yamamoto pulled his hand back before he got bit.
“Well, come on. I need to get to sleep early.”
“You don’t need me for that.”
“What else do you have to do?”
“None of your business,” He grumbled, even as he blew out the last of the candles and followed Yamamoto to the bed.
When Yamamoto opened his eyes the next morning, he smiled. He didn’t need to see Kenma to know he was still there; his scent was reminiscent of the herbs he cut from the garden and his face was nuzzled into Yamamoto’s chest. Whenever he was awake, physical affection did not seem to appeal to Kenma. His subconscious always betrayed him whenever he drifted across the bed during the night until their limbs tangled together. Yamamoto told himself it was probably the warmth Kenma was craving, but he treasured every embrace regardless.
The slender body in his arms began to stir and Yamamoto closed his eyes quickly to pretend like he was still asleep. He fought the smile tugging on his lips when Kenma released a yawn more suited for a bear than a human. It was even harder not to frown when the warm body against him wiggled further away, releasing a wave of cool air to rush over his skin.
It was torture keeping his eyes shut for the next couple minutes of silence. He wanted to see Kenma’s expression, wondering what he was thinking about. Even without seeing his bedmate, he could feel his gaze was on him. Why was he thinking about him? Was it good, bad?
A finger poked into his cheek and his lips trembled to keep his face calm. After a few more pokes the finger lifted away, and Yamamoto was certain that Kenma had given up. A hand smacked hard against his cheek and his eyes flew open as he yelped in pain.
“What the hell?!” Yamamoto squawked as Kenma snickered, pulling the blanket up to hide his smirking lips. Despite the throbbing in his cheek, Yamamoto smiled back, unable to resist Kenma’s smile. “Is that any way to wake a man up?”
“No, but I knew you were awake.”
“How?!”
“That’s not your sleeping face. When you’re asleep, you’re like this.” Kenma shifted onto his back, threw one of his arms over his head and let his mouth fall slack, emitting an obnoxious snore.
“You brat!” Yamamoto laughed, digging his fingers into Kenma’s ribs. The mage squealed and disappeared somewhere under the blankets and Yamamoto lost track of him until he emerged out the bottom of the bed.
“Come on, oh great Hunter. You need to get us some food.”
Yamamoto sat up fully and rubbed the sleep out of his face with a groan. “Are you sure you’ll be alright here?”
“I’m not helpless.”
“Yeah, but if the demons come out—”
“Don’t go too far then, so you can hear them and come running back.”
Kenma was right, there were more rams to be found in the forest just beyond their field since fewer ruffians were roaming about. A group of soldiers called the Inquisition had cleaned most of that up, allowing peace to gradually spread once again. It was giving people the chance to carry on with their lives and left Yamamoto and Kenma to deal with the demons dropping out of the sky. Now, if only they could fix that too. Ha, fat chance.
With his stomach growling for sustenance, Yamamoto dressed and picked up the bow and quiver. He paused as he walked down the path toward the forest and glanced over his shoulder. The tear in the sky was shimmering like always but remained quiet. He hoped it would remain so until he returned. His gaze fell to the door of their shack when Kenma emerged. He held up a hand and waved slightly. Yamamoto grinned and returned the wave.
He’ll be fine… He’s stronger than he looks.
His focus sharpened when he entered the woods, listening intently for any sound of nearby hoofbeats. There was no time to admire the beauty of the morning, the golden light filtering through the leaves overhead. He pushed forward, determined to grab a ram and get back to Kenma’s side. As he neared a cool stream, he slipped off his bow and nocked an arrow, certain that his quarry was near. The bushes to the left rustled and he whirled around, pulling the bow tight. He groaned when nothing but a Fennec emerged, chirping in a friendly way as it hopped down the path as if Yamamoto hadn’t nearly just shot it.
His head jerked when he heard the low moan of a ram not too far away. He licked his lips and jumped the stream with ease, keeping the bow ready and his footsteps silent. Winding around the slender trees, he froze as soon as he caught sight of the large ram, rubbing its horns against a boulder.
Yamamoto didn’t hesitate, eager to catch it while it was distracted. The bow creaked slightly when he pulled back, and as always when he was about to shoot an animal, he allowed a moment of solace for the poor beast before releasing the arrow. His aim was accurate, much to his relief, and the ram didn’t suffer long as it crumbled to the forest floor.
He ran swiftly to its side and bit his lip. Being so close to the stream, it would be best to clean it there before heading back. But his desire to return to Kenma’s side was stronger than the convenience of the situation, so he grabbed a few sturdy branches and quickly tied them together with a bit of rope coiled on his belt. Rolling the dead ram on top of his makeshift litter, he gripped onto the end branches dragged it along behind him toward the direction of the shack. Sweat poured down his face, every excruciating step burning his muscles, but he kept on moving. The last part of the trek was the worst since he had to drag the dead beast up a large hill. He paused at the bottom of it to catch his breath and drink from his waterskin as he was beginning to feel lightheaded.
A blood-curdling shriek echoed over the hills, turning Yamamoto’s skin to ice. He dropped the litter and his waterskin and ran up the path, his hands immediately reaching for his bow. His pace didn’t slow even as he crested the top. In fact, he moved faster when he spotted a group of people spread out amongst the demons wandering in front of their shack. It didn’t matter to him that they seemed to be fighting the demons, he wouldn’t stop until he knew Kenma was alright. He finally caught sight him lurking further off and Yamamoto almost called out to him when he heard a strange sound.
A mage stood in front of the rift with his hand outstretched. A stream of energy flowed between them, so intense even Yamamoto could feel the power behind it. There was a tension rippling in the air, radiating from the occurrence, yet none of the mage’s companions looked surprised by any of it. They waited patiently as the mage focused on the rift until the connection was severed and he stumbled back a few steps.
Yamamoto gaped at the bit of sky where the rift had been a moment before. There was no more eerie green light, and there were no more demons. He startled when he felt a gentle hand on his cheek and blinked at Kenma staring up at him with his eyebrows pressed together.
“Tora? Are you alright?”
“Am I alright? Are you alright?! What happened and who are these people and where the hell did that thing go?!”
“I don’t know who they are, but they wandered up to the rift and started fighting the demons that came out.” Kenma didn’t get the chance to explain further as the group came closer, led by the mage with the glowing hand. Yamamoto urged Kenma behind him and nocked an arrow into his bow, holding it straight toward them.
“That’s close enough. Who the hell are you?”
They stopped, and the mage held his hands up in front of him. He didn’t look surprised by Yamamoto’s reaction, in fact, he seemed curious about him as he gazed at them with large, brown eyes.
“It’s alright, we only came to close the rift. We don’t mean any harm to you or your friend.”
“Forgive me if I’m leery of strange magic.”
“I would expect nothing less from a templar.”
“How did you know I was a templar?”
The man laughed softly and jerked his head back to gesture toward the staff secured on his back. “I’ve been stuck with them all my life without a choice, and now I work with them, side by side. My name is Sawamura Daichi. I’m the Inquisitor of the… Inquisition,” He finished with a wince. A man with silver hair laughed and clapped the mage on the back.
“Sorry, he’s still getting used to his title. He’ll sound more impressive with a bit more practice.”
“Inquisition? I’ve heard rumors about someone…” Yamamoto trailed off, looking the man over more closely. Whispers were spread all over the Hinterlands of all the miraculous things Sawamura Daichi had accomplished so far. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the man staring back at him wasn’t it. There was something calming about his presence, nothing flashy at all about him except for the hand that could close rifts.
Yamamoto flinched when another member of the party stepped forward, a woman in full armor with the Inquisition symbol emblazoned on her chest plate. He gasped when he recognized who she was, but it was her stunning beauty that caused him to sputter incoherently.
“L-Lady Shimizu!” He cried, letting his bow clatter to the ground as he fell to his knees. “I’m sorry, my Lady, I didn’t see you there. I’m not worthy to even look upon your face!” He shouted and planted his palms on the grass in front of him. The Inquisitor and his companions snickered and whispered amongst themselves, but Shimizu sighed and stepped closer.
“You don’t need to bow. Please get up.”
Yamamoto clamored to his feet with his cheeks on fire. Movement beside him drew his gaze and he saw Kenma giving him an irritated glare. Yamamoto snatched his arm to pull him closer and gestured toward Shimizu without looking at her directly.
“Ken, this is Lady Shimizu!”
“I heard you.”
“She’s one of the Seekers of Truth! She’s the right hand of the Divine!
“The Divine’s dead.”
“How can you be so insensitive?!”
Kenma answered with only a huff and looked away. Yamamoto opened his mouth to question him further, but he caught sight of the group’s other warrior wandering toward their shack. At a first glance, he seemed the scariest one of the bunch with his broad stature and gargantuan hammer strapped to his back. The warrior’s expression was one of wonder, however, as he gaped at their shelter and the garden surrounding it, making him seem less terrifying.
“You both were living here?” He asked as he turned toward them at last.
“Yeah, what of it?”
“You were living next to the rift? Why would you do that?”
“To keep the demons at bay. The refugees have been through enough and I know this wasn't the only one but there’s only so much the two of us could do.”
“That’s incredible!” Sawamura chimed in with a nod of agreement from the other two. “What are you going to do now that it’s closed?”
“I… I don’t know. We never even considered that would happen,” He said, sharing a look with Kenma but his friend said nothing as he pressed his lips together. Yamamoto knew that look. He could say it was apprehension, but it went deeper than that. Kenma was not comfortable with change, which was why Yamamoto thought that he had always returned to their shack after running away. His anxiety was going haywire behind his calm exterior and before he could stop himself, Yamamoto cupped his cheek and forced his gaze up to his own.
“Ken, calm down. We’ll figure it out and we don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to. Stay with me,” He whispered and took a deep breath that Kenma mimicked as he fluttered his eyes.
“Okay.”
“You know,” Sawamura began, keeping his voice soft to not upset Kenma further, “You both seem incredibly skilled. You could always join the Inquisition and help us put the world back together again.”
“Oh, thanks, but to be honest I’m tired of fighting. I wouldn’t mind a rest from it.”
“You wouldn’t have to. Our keep is up in the mountains where it’s well protected from our enemies, and we have plenty that you could help with there. Commander Bokuto is an ex-templar himself and is always looking for experienced soldiers to train our new recruits. We could use more mages as well that are skilled in making potions and tonics. Would you at least consider it?”
Yamamoto kept his hand against Kenma’s cheek, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone as he considered Sawamura’s words. Sweet nostalgia flooded him at the thought of training fresh soldiers, something he did often when he was still with the templars. And the thought of Kenma being safe and free to grow fresh herbs almost made him agree on the spot. But Kenma had been told what to do his entire life. Even if it was for his own good, Yamamoto would never snatch away the freedom he’s achieved at last.
His eyes met Kenma’s, calculating and radiant as ever. Yamamoto forced himself to focus and tilted his head questioningly and Kenma answered with a whisper of a smile.
“Alright, we’ll go.”
“You mean it?!”
“Yes. Look at you, your tail’s wagging already.”
“I don’t have a tail!”
Kenma laughed quietly and reached up to remove Yamamoto’s hand from his cheek. Instead of simply flinging it off as he sometimes did, he entwined their fingers and kept them threaded together as their hands fell between them. Yamamoto gazed down at the strange phenomenon while Kenma offered Sawamura a slight bow.
“If it’s alright, we’ll join you at your keep.”
“Skyhold is its name, and we would be honored to have you both,” Sawamura answered with a beaming smile. He turned and pointed at the top of the next hill. “We’ve just established a camp just over there. If you want to collect your things and head over, I’ll let our soldiers know to give you provisions for your journey. I look forward to working with you both. For now, however, we must continue on our way. There are still many rifts in the sky and other matters I need to straighten out.”
“A hero’s work is never done,” The silver-haired man sighed dramatically as he leaned against Sawamura. The Inquisitor, at last, lived up to his intimidating reputation and pinned his friend with a terrifying glare, giving him a rough shove then sent him flying several feet away.
“I’m not a hero, Suga.”
“Don’t discount your efforts, Sawamura,” Shimizu chimed in, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sawamura stared at it as a blush crawled up his cheeks, losing every ounce of aggression he had projected a moment before. Suga and the other warrior stared at her hand as well with jealousy plainly written across their faces. When no one else said anything, Shimizu sighed and nodded to Yamamoto and Kenma.
“Thank you for joining the Inquisition. May the Maker watch over you both.”
“Uh huh, yeah, ha ha, sounds good,” Yamamoto stammered. Shimizu smiled and walked away with her three companions in tow. It wasn’t until they were out of sight that Yamamoto turned back to Kenma and squeezed his hand. “You sure about this Kenma? It’s not too late to back out of it.”
“No, I have a feeling it’s safer there than anywhere else.” His hand slipped out of Yamamoto’s grasp and he wandered back inside the shack. Yamamoto glanced down at his warm palm and followed with a soft smile playing on his lips. “Tora? Were you not able to catch a ram?”
“Aw, shit. I dropped it at the base of the hill when I heard the demons.”
“Idiot.”
“What was I supposed to do?!”
“It’s probably been eaten by bears or wolves by now. Maybe the Inquisition camp has some food as well.”
“We don’t need their food, I can kill another one.”
“Stop being all macho, I want to get a move on.”
“You want to leave right this second? So eager to leave our beautiful home?” He laughed, gesturing at the crumbling ceiling that leaked whenever it rained. Kenma rolled his eyes and continued to pack.
“Anything I treasured about this place, I’ll be bringing with me.”
“Kenma!” Yamamoto gasped, not believing that such sentimental words could come from him. Kenma turned around and held up their battered teapot.
“We can bring this, right?”
The journey was long and tiresome, but it wasn’t so bad on the Inquisition’s borrowed horse. It was incredible to Yamamoto how much the world had changed since he’d last seen it. Before he met Kenma, there were templars and mages attacking everything that moved and innocent villagers were either injured or starving as a result. He marveled at how everything seemed more as it should be with commerce blossoming in the villages and travelers moving back to their old homes.
When they started the path up into the mountains, it wasn’t difficult to find their way to Skyhold. A long train of pilgrims, recruits and volunteers led the way up the snowy slopes, all of them in high spirits. The only one who seemed disgruntled was Kenma, grumbling under his breath about the cold. Yamamoto chuckled and wrapped his arm tighter around his waist and tugged their blanket closer around him.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s far.”
Kenma mumbled something else into the blanket but Yamamoto couldn’t hear what it was. He wasn’t sure it mattered since the tops of his ears had flushed, his body proving to be more honest than his words. Yamamoto said nothing but urged his horse a little quicker, anxious to get Kenma out of the cold.
Their introduction to the Inquisition was a bit of a whirlwind. They seemed eager for new recruits and hardly gave them a chance to take in the extraordinary castle grounds. Yamamoto was overjoyed when he found some of his old friends from the templar order that hadn’t gone completely berserk. Even Kenma was reunited with a childhood friend he had known before he was sent off to the Circle in Ferelden.
Yamamoto tried not to be jealous as the Inquisition’s tall, mysterious and obviously handsome Spymaster wrapped Kenma up in his arms without any resistance from Kenma himself. Some of it must have leaked through his expression from the way Kuroo Tetsurou eyed him over Kenma’s shoulder with a devilish smirk and hugged him even tighter. With great reluctance, Yamamoto left Kenma to catch up with his friend and spent the rest of the day being fitted with new armor and equipment. It was Kenma who found him in the training yards later that evening as the sun was slipping behind the distant mountain peaks.
“Kuro was able to find us a room to ourselves, not too far from him.”
“Oh, good. Heaven forbid we stray far from Kuroo-san.”
His sarcastic tone earned him a punch in the arm, which after the training he’d put in all day was sore already.
“Shut up, have you seen how many people live here? We’re lucky to get that much. Come on.”
Yamamoto bid farewell to his friends and new acquaintances and followed the mage up various winding staircases before even entering the castle. He would need Kenma to draw him a map next time, certain that he’d never find it otherwise. The castle was lit with torches, the warm light dancing across the grand tapestries and casting flickering shadows over the ancient stone walls. Yamamoto whistled low in his admiration and nearly ran into Kenma when he suddenly stopped at the end of the corridor.
“This is ours,” He said softly and opened the door without glancing back at Yamamoto. Caught off-guard by Kenma’s nervous tone, it took Yamamoto a moment to stumble in after him and glance around the room. It was even bigger than their shack inside with a magnificent fireplace that was already lit and flooding the room with heat and a gentle crackle as the flames ate away at the logs.
He frowned at the way Kenma was standing in the center of the room with his back toward him and almost said something when he realized that there were two beds in the room. That shouldn’t have surprised him, they were two men after all. They didn’t have that kind of luxury at the shack, however, and he had spent the last several months sleeping with Kenma snuggled into his side. His head jerked back and forth between them, one slimmer and shoved completely against the wall and the other larger and grander.
Yamamoto sucked in a breath to say something, but before he could, Kenma shuffled to the other end of the room where there was a door he hadn’t noticed before. Kenma walked through it to an outdoor balcony overlooking the impressive Skyhold gardens below. His gaze seemed to drift higher than that, staring up into the darkening sky as wisps of clouds parted to reveal the first emergence of stars.
Ruffling his fingers through his blonde mohawk, Yamamoto sighed and dropped his things by the larger bed. He had a feeling Kenma’s nervousness was for the same reason as his own, at least he hoped it was. Taking a deep breath to soothe his thrumming heart, he drifted across the room toward the open door. His mind was a mess of thoughts, ranging from triumphant This is the moment I’ve been waiting for to I can’t pressure him, or he’ll leave for good.
Even as his steps brought him closer to Kenma’s slender shadow leaning against the stone wall, he had no idea what he was going to do or say. It was stupid, he told himself, worrying about seizing a chance with Kenma when they had plenty of time. All the disjointed fragments of the world were finally fitting back together and they both had a new purpose that wouldn’t keep them from each other.
When he finally stepped out into the cool night, all his meddlesome thoughts fluttered away with the warmth from their room. He didn’t need to think as he pressed against Kenma’s back and stroked his hands down his arms. Kenma shivered but didn’t pull away and when their hands joined, he wrapped Yamamoto’s arms around himself and leaned his head back with a sigh.
“Which bed did you choose?”
“The bigger one, of course. I didn’t think you’d appreciate us squeezing into that smaller one.”
Yamamoto tilted his head to see Kenma’s expression. He beamed as he caught a glimpse of Kenma’s lips curling up at the ends and heard his soft laugh above the wind rustling through the trees below.
“Good. I was hoping that’s what you’d pick. Kuro’s just my friend, by the way, so don’t get all pissy whenever we hang out.”
“What? I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to, it was written all over your face.” Kenma shifted in his arms until they were facing, and though his tone was irritated his eyes were dancing with mischief. Yamamoto’s mouth dropped open as Kenma reached up and circled his arms around his neck. He tugged him lower until his face hovered just above Kenma’s, so close he could feel his warm breath tickle across his lips. They remained like that for several minutes in silence, Yamamoto stunned by the situation and Kenma amused by his reaction.
At last, Kenma snickered and lifted himself on his toes, whispering a quick, “You’re an idiot,” before their lips touched. It was gentle and hesitant, soft as the graze of a feather across skin. As delicate as it was, Yamamoto was overwhelmed by the power of it. He fought the desire to pin Kenma against the wall and kiss him more forcefully, instead gripping his arms tighter around Kenma’s waist and pressing deeper into the kiss with a deep inhale. He was encouraged by the way Kenma’s lips curled into a smile and opened a little wider for him.
His heart drummed so forcefully against his chest he was certain it could be heard all over Skyhold. He ignored it completely, focusing entirely on Kenma’s narrow back beneath his palm, the scent of herbs flooding his senses, and Kenma’s soft voice humming his pleasure. A part of him wondered if he was trapped in a dream, or perhaps he had died, and this was the heaven the Maker had decided he deserved.
Sharp pain on his bottom lip snapped him out of it and he yelped as he pulled away. Kenma didn’t seem sorry at all that he had bitten him and curled his fingers into the front of Yamamoto’s shirt.
“Come on, it’s late. Let’s see if that big bed was worth all the fuss.” It felt like Kenma had shoved a torch in his face with how scalding his cheeks were all of a sudden. He sputtered, but when he was unable to lace two words together Kenma rolled his eyes and tugged him back into the bedroom.
The room was sweltering when the door shut behind him. He felt certain of Kenma’s intentions and even though he’d dreamed of this moment he never thought it would actually happen. Gulping he tried focusing on something smooth to say
The world came into focus as two cool hands pressed against his cheeks and he saw nothing past a pair of lovely amber eyes. Kenma took a deep breath, deeper than he usually would, and without thinking Yamamoto imitated him.
“I’m here, Tora… It’s okay.”
The stress seemed to dissipate like steam rising from a cup of tea and he was able to respond to Kenma’s creased brow with a reassuring smile.
“Sorry, I… I just don’t want to mess this up.”
“You mess everything up and I still like you.”
“I know, it’s just that— What did you say?”
“You mess everything up.”
“No, after that! Did you say you like me?!”
Kenma huffed a laugh into his hand and shook his head. “You really are an idiot.”
“But you love me!”
“I didn’t say tha—"
Kenma squawked as Yamamoto picked him up and tackled him to the bed, his laughter echoing throughout the room until Kenma stifled it with an exasperated kiss.