Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sleepless nights weren't considered common for someone like Zeno, who can already live his everyday life without the burden of fatigue. However, even though he can spend a millennium without a trace of rest, the sheer boredom—and ever-lasting depression, one might add—that haunted his very existence were the sole reasons behind his unnecessary slumber. Despite that, he found that those long hours of inactivity resembled something akin to therapeutic. Because in the lingering essence of his dreams, peace resided. It functioned as his safe place and through his free will, he can accept the arms of sleep in ways he couldn't with death. It was reassuring, soothing, familiar. It was a moment in time where he could escape the world plagued with war, hunger, blood, and misery. In the space of his mind, he can return to times long gone, but not forgotten. Here, he is granted the gift to relive a happier timeline, and, perhaps, kiss a beautiful female without touching the collagen of her decayed skeleton.

Furthermore, this bonafide young boy's appearance failed to capture the evenings where he spent gazing at the stars instead of sleeping. In fact, he looked to be barely a man. His skin was smooth, fair, and uncontaminated in the light of day. He seemed to be insanely healthy. Not only that, but his teeth maintained that stark whiteness his unruly hair failed to obtain despite his several years of existence; his contagious smile created dimples instead of wrinkles. However, beyond his adolescent appearance, his mind was a fascinating place. It was practically a library, stacked with bookshelves upon bookshelves of untold stories that caught dust during passing seasons. Pages of hoary fables that didn't quite make it to campfires lay within his brain, simply waiting to be touched by the fingers of man. Zeno, all in of himself, was an adventure waiting to be had.

He was apart of these historical stories, too. He's witnessed the seasons arrive and depart; lives pass on during winter mornings, fall afternoons, and summer nights like the hush of a flame. The more it goes, the more it's gone, the more it takes away. It was the way of life, and Zeno could no longer participate.

A shift of a sleeping bag disrupted the melody of crickets that inhabited the foliage outside of their campsite. His mind, hazy with the expectation of sleep but without the actual taste of it, slowly resurfaced to greet reality. Active blue eyes fell from the make-shift ceiling made from fabric and rods. His movements were slow, leisurely, as he turned to look at the others that crowded the shelter. Since it was late, the lumps of blankets were cast in a crepuscular umbra. At that very moment, the yellow dragon realized that he was the only one awake.

The odor of men permeated through the confined space; he could vaguely catch Jae-ha's cologne, not that it made a huge distinction. Zeno thought that, perhaps, the displeasing effluvium was emitted from the numerous days spent without proper cleanse and senseless battle that worked up a sweat. It wasn't the best smell, nobody could argue with that. However, at this point, he was rather used to it. After all, Guen, Abi, and Shuten lacked a desirable aroma when they emerged victorious from battle. However, the warriors of old were fortunate enough to have access to a bath in the castle of Kouka. More-ever, the Dark Dragon and the Happy Hungry Bunch were nothing more than animals in a forest.

With limbs as heavy as lead, Zeno freed himself from the multiple blankets that covered his seemingly brittle figure. The chill of night oozed over his skin like wet paint and it generated a wave of goosebumps that pinched against his exposed arms. Nevertheless, the yellow dragon didn't shiver. Instead, he reached over to thoughtfully grab the medallion that rested beside him. Its cold metal bit at his narrow fingers, yet he held it with nothing but respect and fondness. He pressed it against his chest, fingers clasped around the crest's sleek edges. Then, he gradually got to his feet. His bones creaked beneath his skin and it wasn't because of old age; to lay in one place for an extended period often led to stiffened limbs.

With a short glimpse in the direction of his temporary friends, the male approached the opening in the tent. His footsteps were sluggish, concentrated as he advanced through the gloom. The sound of deadened leaflets crushed beneath his thin-soled shoes and the noise alone made his nose crinkle. He tried his best not to wake anyone, but the Earth seemed to have other plans. Luckily, he reached the entrance successfully.

Zeno's delicate fingers traced along with the worn fabric of the tent, and for a concise moment, pondered how many times it has been patched up by Yoon's cleverly crafted hands; how many times it's been torn, charred, or man-handled since their escapade began. In some sort of twisted way, it reminded him of his own journey. His body has been torn on recurring occasions by the back end of some prideful malice. However, no matter how many times he wished against it, he was stitched back together with the strips of his shredded flesh and blood. He didn't physically possess the stitches as the tent did, but he should have and that was the sole reason he sympathized with the piece of inanimate cloth.

Without a second look back, he slipped through the flaps that separated them from the world. As he stepped into natures region, golden hair became shrouded in crisp moonlight. He ascended hills and walked around towering trees with ease. His heels thoughtlessly scrapped against the damp ground. Each blade of grass was soiled by dew, bound to be dipped in frost by the time the sun peeked over the mountain. The sound of crickets and frogs were like robbers at his door. His wide eyes moved about his surroundings with pointless speed.

The night was a special kind of darkness to Zeno. It was something that upheld warm security he couldn't find anywhere else. It was a distinct kind of murkiness that kept the stars in place and helped them shine with invaluable brilliance. Under the moon's keen eye and tender touch, he could practically feel his soul. He felt home, notwithstanding the lack of structures and beds. Because, in the end, the stars and the moon alike have raised him; they watched him thrive and watch him fall under the need to be held by someone—or a few someones—familiar.

Zeno liked to stare back, not that his wandering gaze could ever make the extraterrestrial lifeforms tremble. But, it reminded him that there was beauty in a world so cruel. The sky remained the same, no matter how many years were chalked off the board. Just like him. Somewhere within him, Zeno felt comfort in that.

With time, the trees became less populated as he slithered through the overgrowth. His clothes often caught on miscellaneous twigs that stuck out from disheveled bushes. In fact, he couldn't move without a plant touching his skin. There was more life here per square meter than anywhere else on the planet—especially in comparison to the fire kingdom, even with Tae-Jun's generous improvements—and yet Zeno was completely alone. Everything looked the same no matter where he looked but after walking through this world for more than an era, everything tended to blend. As far as he knew, he could've walked down this very path thousands of times before.

When a clearing peeked through the body of the forest, a soft smile appeared on his lips. With a glance over his shoulders, Zeno happily skipped to the patch of land that was drowned in the pale moonlight. He was quick to plop down onto the ground, legs crossed over one another like a child during story-time. With his hands present in his lap, he lifted his gaze to the stars above. They glimmered like they always did, silently accepting his company. His fingers subconsciously drifted across the engravings present on the golden crest.

As his gaze ran over the constellations he knew, a sigh drooled from his lips. It wasn't one of relaxation; this time, it held a much deeper sense. Slowly, he lowered his head.

"All living things return to heaven someday," he repeated to nobody in particular, recalling what he had said over dinner that night. He fingered the carvings in the necklace King Hiyruu once wore so proudly; a pang of yearning struck his heart. "Then what does that make Zeno?" He added casually as if he was talking to the inanimate object before him. It didn't reply, not that he expected it too.

He knew the answer to the question. However, usually, he doesn't like to dwell on such a thing as his power and what happened to him because of it. Unfortunately, the topic bobbed incessantly at the forefront of his mind. He was quite aware of it; what came with the blood of Ouryuu. However, in the end, he wanted nothing to do with it. Not anymore. He wanted to return home, return to the arms of his wife and the banter of his brothers.

Zeno's no longer human, huh?

The dragon paused in perplexity. His fingers hovered over the crest that weighed in his neck. His lips parted but not a sound drooled out. Horror swam in those blue eyes of his, similar to when he asked King Hiyruu about his power.

Zeno's truly a monster. His thoughts poked at him, merciless and truthful.

The need to destroy everything around him sprouted in his chest faster than any other plant could; his fingers yearned to pull up every root, throw each thing placed around him, and tear everything apart. He wanted nothing more but to show the world a depiction of what he felt inside; give the heavens a picture of what they did to him. Draw his aching heart on his sleeve and show the world just how much he despises being on it.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, old man?"

But, he didn't. He didn't move an inch. The familiar voice acted like the antidote to the sudden anger that injected itself into his system. Instantly, his exasperation quelled.

Zeno's head perked up. Jae-ha—the proclaimed older brother between the four dragons, with the exception of Zeno's actual age—stood behind him, gaze composed and his features drawn with sleep. He had one hand present on his hip, fingers outstretched across the soft fabric that hugged his body. The other hung limply by his side.

"Zeno isn't tired," the blond replied with a smile and watched as the other man approached him.

"Mind if I join you then?" The question was soft.

Zeno choked up for a moment. He escaped the campsite simply because he didn't want company, and right now with a hundred rancorous emotions holding him hostage, he wasn’t sure that he could partake in conversation. But he had to because there was concern in the hazy, unfocused gaze of the current Ryokuryuu. It burned through his resolve more than the "of age" insults ever could. At this point, Zeno wished for those playful gestures instead of droopy eyes that reminded him of the first green dragon.

He forced himself to swallow. "Zeno doesn't mind."

Without another word, Jae-ha joined the smaller male on the ground. He crossed his legs and the two shared a moment of unspoken love for the stars. Zeno was content, happy that the seemingly older man didn't ask questions. Instead, silence returned as an invited guest.

The scene was vaguely familiar to the nights he spent with Kaya. She, in all of her beauty, was there in ways the stars couldn't be. She acted like a map when he felt so undeniable lost in a world so big; she was, to put it simply, his temporary everything.

He could easily recall the nights she joined him outside when the air was frigid. They could spot each other's breath. Even if she was shivering, her eyes were always so full of excitement as she stared at the world above. Zeno would stare too, but not at the countless twinkling dots present in the sky. Instead, he gazed upon her. He didn't mean to gawk, but in the end, that's exactly what he did. She was so 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳—so beautiful—in his crumbled world. She was the only thing standing when everything else came apart at the seams. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to linger. Zeno needed her, similar to how addicts needed nicotine. Kaya was his nicotine; he yearned for them to last forever.

But she went away, too.

Under the overcast sky, time escaped both of the dragon warriors. Hours could've slipped by for all he knew, as he wasn't even consciously aware of the seconds that clicked between them.

However, it seemed he was the only one who got sucked up in time. Jae-ha's curious hum brought him back from the world of old. "That's one thoughtful gaze you have there," the green-haired dragon stated teasingly. He couldn't help but catch the tired hint that poked at his tone.

Zeno shrugged, some crumbled copy of a smile crossed his face. "Zeno's just thinking," he replied with a childish laugh.

"What may the great and old Ouryuu be thinking at this time of night?"

Zeno disregarded the need to crinkle his nose in utter disgust at that name. He wouldn't openly admit how much he's grown to hate the calling that was granted to him, especially around those that thoroughly enjoyed their abilities. He prefers Zeno much more. "Nothing all that important," was his reply; short and strained. His lips twitched as the wind of his words graced the pink skin. Kaya was the opposite of unimportant, but at that very moment, she wasn't the only thing on his mind. His very existence was the topic of tonight, regret and fear present on a silver platter. That, to him, was the very definition of trivial.

There was a pause. A particularly long one, enough to cause Jae-ha to lift an eyebrow. Zeno has learned through this journey not to take the current Ryokuryuu for an idiot. He was a level-headed observer beyond his perverted ways—not one to be taken lightly. In many ways, he reflected Shuten. Zeno wasn't sure if he was ridiculously proud or deeply shaken by that. Nevertheless, the other man clearly picked up something in his behavior. Much to his dismay. But, Jae-ha didn't press on as Kija may have; it was a trait Zeno was thankful for.

Once again, a particular silence ebbed along every blade of grass like dew would on winter daybreak. It wasn't awkward, yet it wasn't exactly comforting either. They were one step away from reaching tranquility similar to the unperturbed sky but neither of them took the step to grasp it. Something held them back.

Luckily, he wasn't the one to address it; the other man was on a mission, and he was hard to shake once his mind was made. "You know," Jae-ha began in that curious tone of his, "I still have a lot of questions."

A smile painted the youthful boys' expression. "Everyone has questions for Zeno."

"Not for you," he respectfully corrected and laid back on his hands. "About you."

"Oh," the blond breathed out. Fear bubbled against his insides like bile.

"Especially about that wife you have mentioned a few times in the past."

"Typical."

Jae-ha laughed halfheartedly. "Intrigue me; did you woo her with those forever young looks of yours? Women these days tend to like the young doe-eyed types."

Zeno sat up straight. "Ryokuryuu!" He said his name like he’d personally wronged the man.

The other held up his hands in a makeshift apology. "I'm more than just a little curious," he informed curtly, similar to how he treated Shin-ah and his desire to spot the breathtaking eyes of a dragon.

"What's so astounding about Zeno having a wife?" He asked without a single glance his way. His fingers were at war with each other, where rounded fingernails picked at healthy skin. He could recall the expressions that painted their faces when he first mentioned it.

Jae-ha rolled his head on his shoulders. "I've said it once before; I thought I would've been the first to court a lady like that. But that was when I believed you were the youngest out of us."

"I was," replied Zeno, hands bound into shaking fists. Granted, he was never the youngest out of this group of dragon warriors. During King Hiryuu's era, he was taken for a tenderfoot by his three blood brothers. "I'm nothing but a living monster now," he added quietly, the words scratched against his throat.

"That's not true. Everyone considers us monsters, except for a certain few. Their words don't make them right, we are still human." Jae-ha replied in a much softer tone. One akin to reassurance. He was staring at Zeno now, who never once looked up to meet his gaze.

"What makes them wrong?"

"Pardon?"

"What makes them wrong?" He repeated in a brash manner. His knuckles were white, the cloth of his outfit creased between his fingers. This strong sense of revulsion vaguely reminded him of the time he asked King Hiryuu about his power.

"Zeno that's—"

"Zeno's no longer human!" He snapped, a growl to his tone that wasn't directed to anyone in particular. The blond looked up then, feral eyes—glossed over with a layer of water—locked with the other man. He wanted it to stop; every painful memory, the episodes of longing and misery. It mixed so thickly within his troubled soul that they all dulled each other out. It created a sharp kind of emptiness that left often left him devoid of all desires. He wanted to cry.

What's wrong? Zeno could hear the gentle voice of his first master bounce off his mindscape. It was soft, yet he could still catch the age that possessed it. You're not your usual cheerful self. Is something worrying you? I won't be able to sleep in peace if you're like that.

Nevertheless, it didn't calm him in his time of distress. Instead, a lump formed in his throat. Because, in the end, his beloved King did fall into a peaceful slumber that would last forever; he slept easy while Zeno was left victim to turmoil. As did Kaya, whose final wish was to meet again above the stars.

His eyes narrowed on Jae-ha, who was tightlipped. Surprise widened his eyes, lips parted in a way that told him bafflement kept his voice enchained. Although, Zeno didn't particularly blame him. His behavior did suddenly shifted like a capricious climate. The cheerful boy knew was gone, replaced by a man who's soul was tired and mind terrified. Tired in a way that sleep could never cure; mind clouded by the fear of being left behind.

"Everything living will return to heaven someday and... Zeno will not. This one can't rejoin his loved ones in heaven. In the end, Zeno will be alone," continued he, who took a shaky breath and buried his face within his palms. "Always." The word was broken, quiet, spoken between shaken breaths that made his small body shudder.

Pain panged against his heart and he gasped breathlessly from the sheer weight of it. In times like these, he wished his powers treated emotions like it did towards falchion swords. It would be easier; calming. Instead of finding himself in a state of stoic ataraxia, he discovered himself to be damaged beyond the point of recovery. But, he had forever. Time will go like an old friend and he will have to pick himself up from the rubble. Again and again.

However, he didn't want to lose his new family. The thought of doing such a thing fell upon him like cold water rather than simply skating over his skin. He wanted to be with them forever—he used the term far too many times for a person who knew it was inaccessible for those other than him. Within seconds, tears coursed from his eyes and cleansed his reddened cheeks. Few droplets remained, forgetting their way as the path was swept from beneath them. Others slipped off his chin and dotted the golden metal of the medallion present in his lap. Consequently, it blurred Zeno's vision with waves of sadness only the broken encounter. The salty release calmly flowed into his mouth so that he could taste his own sorrow.

Bitter. Unforgiving. Overwhelming.

But, Jae-ha was there; blotted colors of moss green, red-tinted peach, navy blue, and solferino purple sat there before him. With one shaky breath to the next, there was a sturdy hand present on his shoulder. That same hand pulled him closer until his body was pressed against the other, and his nose was buried in the fabric of the bigger man's clothing. A pair of arms followed, securing him in a tight hug that Zeno didn't want to pull away from. The familiar scent of cologne overcame his senses. He took note of just how warm Jae-ha was; it made his embrace all the more comforting.

Ryokuryuu held him for quite some time. Time slipped by like a rushing river during spring but Zeno wasn't counting. He didn't say a word, fearful that it'll agitate the smaller dragon in his arms. Instead, he rubbed featherlight circles into the crease of his shoulder blades. Zeno took the time to calm his scattered nerves, beckoning for his smile to return. He was particularly taken with the mellifluous sounds of the crickets and the rise and fall of the others chest.

Once he was positive the tears were dry, Zeno pulled away from the other dragon. Jae-ha lowered his chin and cocked an eyebrow, "everything alright, old man?" He asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

A weak laugh played on his lips like a broken melody. How this one reminded him so much of Shu-ten. It made his heart ache. "Zeno is fine now." He wiped at his cheeks with his sleeve.

A look of uncertainty crossed his expression. "Look, Zeno dear, about what you said earlier. I..." He paused and sent those purple eyes of his searching through the darkened forestry until they found Zeno again. Then, he licked his lips and went on, "we don't see you as a monster. You're Zeno, our Zeno, and I can speak for everyone when I say you aren't alone anymore. There is a distinct distance between us and I don't like it. Don't stress over what's going to happen in the future, live with us in the now. Please, don't fall behind." Jae-ha's words were carefully calculated, spoken with such a truthful depth it almost sent Zeno into another frantic frenzy.

Ouryuu Zeno was a figure of the past and he, too, remained there in spirit. On multiple occasions, he told himself not to get attached to these new, fresh young dragons. Such a feeling would return later in his sempiternal life to bite him. However, as he gazed into the saddened dull that etched Jae-ha's eyes, he came to realize that it was wrong—to neglect and hide from these new warriors simply because he couldn't come to face them. They weren't like the dragons of times old. Each and every one of them possess their own sweet spark. Moreover, to live along beside them instead of behind them sounded rather indulgent. The question was whether or not he would take the first step. He wasn't the one to step out to confront his fears. It reminded him of why he didn't visit Guen in his final days.

Perhaps, without Zeno's initial knowledge, they already managed to slither into his heart.

"Okay," he breathed out. "I'll try."

Jae-ha seemed satisfied with that. A smile, not one of mischief and play but appreciation and pride, painted his lips. "Let's go back to camp before anyone notices our disappearance. I don't want to get another earful from Yoon about my sleep schedule," he said enthusiastically and stood up. His movements were slow and his body flowed like water transformed underneath the moonlight.

"The lad is just concerned for your health," Zeno sang and joined the other on his feet. Some part of him wanted to stay there until the sun breaks into the horizon line. Though, after some thought, he decided that he couldn't deny Jae-ha the company after that extempore speech. Instead, he wrapped his precious crest around his neck and brushed himself off.

"He sure has a funny way of showing it."

"Ryokuryuu likes the kid."

"Some days more than others," Jae-ha flicked his bangs away from his face and ascended down the slope, towards the direction of their camp.

He simply laughed and skipped after the other. "Oh, don't be mean." He knew how protective the group was when it came to Yoon; even Hak, the supposed brute of the bunch (according to Kija, anyway) jumped the gun if the youngest of the group happened to run into trouble. While it was clear that everyone had each others back, Yoon held a special place in everyone's heart. Without him and his genius spark, the group wouldn't last long.

Zeno's eyes flickered over the thick, dark trunks of the trees that rose steadily into the sky, its branches interlocking with its neighbors like giant’s arms linked together protecting their home. The trees were densely packed together, accompanied by thick vegetation, which left just enough space to allow someone to maneuver through. Darkness engulfed the world that existed below the canopy, all that lighted their way was the will to return to their family. His family; the word was almost foreign to him, much like how his name was the first time Kaya asked for it. The cold breeze whistled through deadened leaves and left branches trembling in its wake. There wasn't much left for the imagination. However, he was left to wonder how this scene looked in Shin-ah's perspective, who could practically see through the dark backdrop.

When they reached the campsite, Jae-ha turned to face him. Zeno half expected a good night or, perhaps, a request not to wander off again. Instead, he offered an inviting smile before he slipped into the tent that populated Kija, Shin-ah, and Hak. This time, the blond didn't hesitate to follow. Once he stepped inside, the green-haired man was already under the covers. With a wordless goodnight, Zeno also crawled into the spot he abandoned earlier that night. From deep inside his bones, through every cell of his body, the warmth of the covers welcomed him like an old friend. His body slowly sunk into it, and before he could even remove the crest from his neck, he was far too comfortable to move.

As his consciousness ebbed, his tired mind went into free fall. It swirled with the beautiful chaos of a new dream. Not one that consisted of past legends, but a tale born anew.