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It honestly had just been a simple stroll through the woods, but somewhere along the way, Shirabu Kenjiro had gotten lost. It was just too unfortunate.
Kicking stray pine cones aside, he cursed under his breath. This definitely was the worst – Lord Ushijima would expect him to be back soon. It was unlike him to spend the night away from Sendai Castle, and the other knew that.
If Tendou only hadn’t mentioned the rumours entwining the woods – cursed and apparently haunted. This was mere child’s play, collecting plants was something he’d done for ages, yet Shirabu still had taken a sword along, strapped safely to his hip and swaying from side to side with every step he took on the uneven ground.
He clicked his tongue and brushed through the thicket. It was late afternoon and the sun shone lazily on this September day, bathing the forest in warm brown and red hues. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of leaves could’ve been peaceful, but right now all Shirabu wanted was to get back to the castle, back to Lord Ushijima and his duties, even if that meant not getting what he’d wanted.
Shirabu honestly had no idea why he’d taken the sword along with him. He gave it a nasty look and scowled, loosening the belt holding it up and ultimately dropping it onto a pile of leaves. Tendou had just pushed it into his hands when he’d mentioned going out to collect some of the herbs he needed to perfect his mixtures. Shirabu didn’t even know how to properly fight, hell, he most likely lacked the strength to even hoist the damned thing up. And besides, he’d never needed a sword before.
Grumbling quietly to himself he left the sword behind. Lord Ushijima wouldn’t miss it, he had dozens of these lying around, and if need be, he could always come back and pick it up, he knew these woods like the back of his hand.
Speaking of knowing the woods, he would surely remember an oak tree this big in the middle of a clearing, right? Or, well, at least it seemed to be an oak tree.
Shirabu scrunched his brows together and examined the tree stump closer – there seemed to be something wrong with it. The bark looked sickly, too dark to still be alive and it was oozing a dark substance. He scooped some of the runny liquid up with his index finger and raised it to his nose, sniffing cautiously. It smelled like the oil lamps Lord Ushijima sometimes had burning in his office, late at night when he was supposed to be asleep but his duties kept him awake. Shirabu shuddered and hastily wiped the substance on his linen trousers, probably staining them permanently.
There was something wrong here, he could feel it. He stumbled a few feet back, not daring to turn his back to this abomination of a tree and left the clearance. As soon as it was out of sight he whirled around and ran.
Superstitious was the last thing he’d describe himself as, but that- that thing couldn’t have been normal, under no circumstances.
Murmuring slightly to himself he trudged further and further into the forest until the treetops formed a unified whole and swallowed every last ray of sunshine, effectively casting shadows on the mossy patches that covered the entire forest soil.
It was all fine; he didn’t expect this part of the forest to have a lot of visitors. To be honest, he was glad for that fact. Living in the castle with both Tendou and Goshiki was a strain, to put it lightly. The knight and his squire had voices like foghorns, waking him and the rest of the servants early in the morning.
Taichi always complained about them waking his falcons, saying that his birds got restless whenever they heard their voices and felt their presence, and Shirabu couldn’t blame the poor animals. As the castle’s falconer, he was responsible for the wellbeing, care and training of the hawks – and the occasional eagle their Lord brought home with him. But he did his job well, and Shirabu couldn’t be any prouder of him.
He couldn’t dwell on that right now, though. There were more important things to do – like finding that damned herb he’d been trying to get his hands on all along. There was a reason he was the head alchemist, and he would rather die than give up his title. After all, he wasn’t one to give up at the tiniest hindrance that life threw in his way.
And thus he ventured deeper and deeper into the forest.
Technically, there should not be a garden fence here.
Bewildered, Shirabu stared at the intricate brass-fence in front of him, maybe reaching up to his hips. He put his hand on one of the tips to feel how sharp it was. It wasn’t rusty, no, it felt as if someone had cleaned it not too long ago.
Who would own a house in the middle of the forest? And more importantly, whose garden was that pretty and full of what seemed to be the healthiest variety of herbs he’d ever seen?
After contemplating it for a second he called out a timid “Hello?”, which he received no answer to. For a moment he just looked at the house, smoke rising from the small chimney on the straw roof. He sighed and pushed the gate open, stepping into the strange garden.
The sweet scent of the flowers hit him full on. The difference shouldn’t have been that great, it had just been a step, but their smell filled his head and made it swim. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the smoky scent of burning timber wood and sugary gloxinias.
Then he looked around. There was ivy coating the small hut, crawling up alongside the windows and hanging off the roof. Stepping stones led to the door and around the side of the house, where the garden seemed to continue. Flowerbeds lined the path, showcasing a million different kinds even though it was time for flowers to wilt and for trees to shed their leaves.
Carefully, and trying not to step onto the bright green grass, he manoeuvred his way past the hut and to the back of the house. Just like he’d assumed, the garden went on and on, a little pond and a bench not too far away.
And – as it seemed – this was where the house owner grew their food as well. Shirabu figured they’d need their own supply, after all the nearest village was quite a while away. Multiple fruit trees decorated the pasture and there was even a rather large vegetable patch.
With a boy sitting on it, nonetheless. His hands were embedded in the soil, seemingly oblivious to Shirabu’s sudden appearance and planting something in, speaking sweetly to the plant.
Shirabu had always considered Lord Ushijima to be the most beautiful person to grace this earth with his presence, but this boy – he was something else, something Ushijima couldn’t compare to.
His build was slight, some might call it frail, with bones slightly protruding from the milky-white skin. An oat-coloured linen shirt loosely hung off his frame, dotted with specks of dirt and he wore wide, comfortable looking pants. The boy was barefoot and ashen hair framed his narrow face. He looked peaceful, and Shirabu almost didn’t dare disturb him.
Almost.
Carefully he crept closer, not taking his eyes off the boy in fear of him turning out to be some kind of hallucination. The nearer he got, the more details he could make out – the plant the boy seemed to be nursing was a tiny lemon tree, which seemed unfitting for a vegetable patch, his fingernails had dirt under them and his eyes, cast in shadows by long, black lashes, were unbelievably dark.
Then a twig broke in half beneath his feet and the pretty boy looked up, alarmed. Immediately he got up, brushing his fingers on his pants and taking a defensive stance in front of the small plant, glaring angrily at Shirabu. His eyes were as dark as the dead tree he’d seen on his way here. Carefully, as to not frighten the boy further, he raised his arms in the air to symbolize his surrender.
His mouth was dry when he opened it to speak, but the other beat him to it.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, but it didn’t sound as much angered as frightened. “You- you need to go. Now.” The boy took his eyes off Shirabu to examine the area around them, as if someone else would suddenly decide to reveal themselves.
“What’s your name?” He asked instead, choosing to ignore the boy’s demand to leave.
Ashy glared at him, obviously annoyed. “I don’t have to tell you anything,” he snarled.
Well, two could play this game. He shrugged, seizing the other boy up and down before his eyes landed on the plant the boy was protecting. “As you say, Lemon Boy.”
Lemon Boy narrowed his eyes even more, if that was possible. “It’s Eita,” he finally relented, hesitantly. He eyed Shirabu as if he were the dirt under his feet.
Shirabu hummed, content with his discovery. “I am Shirabu,” he said, making sure to blatantly look around. “Do you live out here all alone?”
Eita looked nervously around. “Listen, Shirabu,” he started, and Shirabu really liked the way his name sounded on the other’s tongue. “You cannot stay here, under no circumstances.”
“You haven’t answere-“ A yell cut him off midsentence, and both his and Eita’s head whipped around to the direction it came from. It was the house.
“Eita!” The person yelled, and Shirabu was sure that it was another boy’s voice. “Are you coming? You have been out for so long!”
Making frantic shooing-motions with his hands, he yelled back, “Do not worry, Koushi! I’ll be coming shortly to assist you and Auntie! Just give me a minute!”
The other voice didn’t say anything else, so Shirabu guessed the answer had been satisfactory. When Eita didn’t receive another reminder from the boy in the house, he turned his attention back to Shirabu. “Leave, now that you still have the chance,” he commanded, and it sounded final.
That certainly piqued his interest. “Will I be able to come back?” He asked. Something about the way the other had phrased that sentence seemed off to him, and he definitely wanted to know more about this mysterious boy in the middle of the woods. And besides, he was pretty.
Eita seemed to consider the question in his head before finally nodding. “I suppose so. Come back tomorrow at sunset and I shall spend some time with you. If you even manage to find the way, that is. I will make sure that you do not, though.” With a smug grin he turned around and stalked towards the hut, effectively leaving Shirabu alone with the lemon plant.
He shot one last look at the plant that shouldn’t even be growing here and then decided to leave this place.
Sighing, he made his way back to the castle, totally forgetting the sole reason he had ventured into the woods in the first place.
He’d been so lucky for meeting Yamagata along the way home. The older boy acted as sort of a herald for Lord Ushijima, bringing important documents and treaties both from and to other counties and their lords, which – sadly – included Lord Oikawa as well. Shirabu hated him like the plague.
But anyhow – he’d met Yamagata and the other had offered to take him back to the castle on the back of his horse, which Shirabu gladly accepted. He was used to running around all day, but his feet still hurt and he was sure blisters had formed on the heels of his feet.
Tightly slinging his arms around the brunet's middle, he hung on for his dear life. Yamagata wasn’t exactly known for being the safest rider, but more so for being the fastest, and the scenery blurred from the warm hues of the forest into the cooler tones of the nightsky.
Shirabu hadn’t even noticed how dark it had gotten, so enamoured had he been by his newest discovery. Yamagata thankfully kept quiet on the entire way, which was a relief in itself, because Shirabu really needed to digest all the information he’d received that day.
As soon as he got back he thanked the older boy and climbed off the horse - neither gracelessly falling off nor throwing up afterwards this time – and ran inside to catch Reon while he was still working. There was something he needed from the blacksmith.
“Reon,” he said quietly while knocking on the doorframe to alert the other to his presence. Reon’s door was always open, both literally as well as figuratively. The other looked up from his work and smiled at Shirabu.
“Do you need something this late?”
“Actually, yes,” he started, gnawing nervously on his lower lip. It was alright, he wasn’t doing anything illegal or questionable. “Could you forge me a hoe until tomorrow? It needn’t be big or very pretty, just make it practical.”
The other raised his eyebrows but didn’t ask. Although it was uncommon for Shirabu to tend to the plants himself, it wasn’t completely unlikely. “I will do what I can.”
Shirabu nodded his thanks and headed out. Reon would finish the job, without any doubt.
Next he headed to Jin’s chamber, not wanting to bother Lord Ushijima this late but still needing to report his arrival. Jin, as their Lord’s adviser, took care of such things as not to burden Ushijima with too many trivialities. He had an entire county to run, after all.
After it had all gone over smoothly he went to his quarters and changed into his clothes for the night. As the head alchemist and one of Lord Ushijima’s closest confidants, he had a slightly bigger room to himself, but it was sparsely decorated and archaic – yet that was just what Shirabu liked. He had no mind for knick-knack and such.
When he draped the covers over himself and let his eyes fall shut, he dreamt of a beautiful garden and its attendant, the birdsong ringing in his ears and the rustling of leaves shushing the thoughts in his mind.
Shirabu had never been one to sleep long, but nonetheless he liked his mornings to not be disrupted by the clattering of armour and the clashing of swords, accompanied by agitated yells.
Groaning he pulled the itchy pillow over his head and tried to block out the sounds, and for a while it worked. The only problem was, that he was wide awake now.
He pushed the covers aside and got up, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Padding over to his wardrobe he picked out a casual outfit and a cloak, changing quickly into it and then walking back to his bed to make it. It always annoyed him when things were untidy, so he was extra careful to align the corners and flatten out the pillow. A spider, black and long-legged, hurried across his pillow, and with a frown he scooped it up, making his way over to the window in order to set it free.
When he brushed aside the cloth curtain and looked out the window, he saw Tendou and Goshiki sparring with one another, metal hitting metal and producing that disgusting sound. He screwed up his nose, turned away and picked up his latest notebook, taking it with him to the dining hall.
The kitchen staff had probably been up and about for a few hours now, already preparing lunch, but some of the breakfast food still stood on the table and he helped himself to a bowl of oatmeal and half a loaf of bread. Munching peacefully on his food, he scanned the room.
Taichi and Yamagata were most likely already attending their duties, he’d seen Tendou and Goshiki outside and Reon was probably working as well. He quickly finished his meal and brought his dishes over to the water tub, were other plates and bowls already sat inside.
Then, taking a seat once again, he whipped out his notebook to come up with a plan for the day.
Until lunchtime he would try to work on the new medicine he was trying to come up with, so he’d spend the time in his laboratory, filled to the brim with glass cylinders, test tubes and flasks.
Lord Ushijima was always adamant that they all had at least one meal per day together, so he’d eat his lunch with the others and… Yes, that was the perfect chance to casually ask Reon if the tool he’d commissioned was already finished.
After that he’d look for Jin to let him know he’d be trying to get some ingredients from the woods and then he would be on his merry way.
Content with his plan, he turned around and strode back to his laboratory, trying not to think too much about the house in the woods, which seemed to occupy his mind nowadays.
Listlessly he stirred around in his stew – potato, carrots and something that vaguely resembled fish – and sighed.
Ushijima, sitting to his right noticed his demise and cocked his head. “Is something wrong, Shirabu?” He asked, sounding slightly worried.
“Nothing sir,” he answered. “It’s just… I’m not making any progress with the medicine. He stirred around some more, making it seem as if that was the only thing plaguing his mind.
Tendou snickered. “Alas, it seems our doctor has lost his worth!” Shirabu frowned at the older boy – actually, he wasn’t all that much older.
Tendou had been at their Lord’s side since the day he was born around 19 years ago, hovering in his shadow and protecting him from every harm that came their way. He didn’t take a lot of things seriously, but Ushijima’s security was the one thing he’d probably die for. They all would.
Goshiki, with his sweet 13 years, was the youngest of the bunch and everyone loved him. Well, most of them, as long as he didn’t open his mouth. He was distantly related to their Lord and when his parents had died, Ushijima had taken the boy into his household, vowing to not let anyone harm his family. And Goshiki saw them all as exactly that – one, big family. With Ushijima and Tendou as his big brothers, most likely.
Said boy had now opened his mouth and was spewing horseshit, as usual. “But I don’t want Shirabu to go!”
Something fluttered past the window and, expecting one of Taichi’s falcons, Shirabu looked outside, but it was just a wild crow. Still more interesting than Goshiki’s opinions.
Reon hummed and decided to humour the boy. “What makes you think that Shirabu will leave us, Tsutomu?”
The black haired boy stared with tearful eyes at his elder, lower lip quivering. “Well, you know… if people lose their worth they get thrown out of the castle! And I don’t-“
Their blacksmith’s warm chuckle interrupted him. “Shirabu’s not leaving, don’t worry. Ah, by the way-“ he stopped to rummage in his bag, filled to the brim with utensils he might need every now and then, drawing a small packet from it and reaching over to give it to Shirabu, who stuffed it into his pants pocket- “I finished it this morning. I hope it’ll help you.” He winked.
Shirabu thanked him and ignored the others' curious stares, addressing Lord Ushijima once again. “I still need to collect some ingredients in the forest. May I go there this afternoon?”
Their Lord took this into consideration with furrowed eyebrows. “Of course you may go. I believe you are old enough to come to your own decisions and I do trust you to make the right ones.”
He smiled at that, but his enthusiasm was put out quickly by Taichi butting in. “Didn’t you spend the entirety of yesterday afternoon in the forest, Kenjiro?” It was an honest question, but it made him grind his teeth nonetheless.
“I suppose I did,” he answered and shot a nasty glare at his best friend. “But I could not find what I had been looking for.”
Jin opened his mouth to speak and the chatter at their table died at once. When Jin spoke, you had to be quiet, because the words of the old wise man were worth gold. And he mumbled, but no one dared to bring that up. “I say let the boy go.” He shushed Ushijima who’d tried to interject, most likely saying that Shirabu already had permission to leave. “He needs the time outside, it’ll only do him well. All I say is that you better take along dinner; it could very well be that your journey is longer than anticipated.” He added with a sly smirk.
Shirabu stared back at him, perplexed. How did-? Never mind, it was Jin after all.
After a minute of silence passed and the old man didn’t add anything else, the conversations resumed. Yamagata and Tendou were bickering, exchanging heated words about whose duties were more important with Goshiki supporting Tendou and Taichi occasionally butting in to defend Yamagata. Reon watched them, amused, but didn’t try to interrupt them, and Lord Ushijima just continued his meal, not caring about the ruckus around him.
He turned back to his food himself, picking up the spoon he’d discarded a while ago and took a sip from the stew. It didn’t taste bad at all, now that his plan for the day had been approved of.
Jin stayed back to speak with him as he was about to pack his satchel, grabbing a loaf of bread, some cheese, his waterskin and his new tool. “So,” the old man started and stroked his beard. Jin had been working for Ushijima’s father before and he’d seen their Lord grow up, had been at his side and lend him advice whenever the young Lord had needed it. He cared about the residents of the castle as if they were his own children. When Shirabu had been younger, still naïve and innocent boy, Jin used to tell him stories about magical beings in the forest, and up to a certain age, he’d believed them.
“Be careful out there in the woods, boy,” he went on, not once taking his milky eyes off Shirabu.
“The others, they don’t have an ounce of magic in them. But you do.” Shirabu wanted to snort, wanted to tell him that he didn’t believe in magic and that he thought it was humbug, but he held his tongue instead, letting Jin continue.
“There are… things in this forest. Things that should not be there, you hear? You’re at a very special age right now. The age where the stories turn out to be a little more than just that, where your longings and dreams can lead you on the wrong path. Be wary of whom you trust out there, and always question if the things you see are real.”
Shirabu wondered if Jin knew about what he’d seen, but before he had the chance to ask, the other continued.
“No matter what you do, always stay away from the turtles, will you?” He clasped a bony hand onto Shirabu’s shoulder, holding on tight until he saw the boy nod and only then he let out a relieved sigh.
He honestly had no idea what Jin was talking about, but he didn’t dare ask either.
He tried to go the exact same way as before, but he hadn’t even found the goddamn sword. And how could he possibly miss a sword? Maybe some bratty child had taken it, but what did he care.
He buried his hands into his hair and tugged, crouching on the ground and breathing in deeply. It was okay. He’d find the way. He knew these woods like the back of his hand.
No, he didn’t. Didn’t know anything. Stupid boy, thinking he knew what was going on.
His gaze focused on a tiny spider scurrying along, climbing over dead leaves and as he tracked its movements with his eyes, something black and shiny caught his eye. He scrambled up, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to the familiar shape.
The tree! He rested a hand on the cold bark, devoid of life and sighed. It was alright now; he knew the way from here. As much as it had scared him the day before, he was glad to see it now.
With renewed hope he picked up the satchel he dropped when he’d gotten up too fast and continued his way, the area becoming more and more familiar the closer he got.
And not too far away, he could make out the shape of the hut and the garden, lit only by the warm light of the setting sun. Picking up the pace, he almost ran towards the house and pushed the gate open, not bothering to close it behind him, his manners be damned.
Then he made his way along the backside and- sitting on the stone bench next to the pond were Eita and another boy, eerily similar.
Eita looked at him unbelievingly, as if he hadn’t thought Shirabu would find the way back, but the other boy looked ecstatic. He put down his pie – it was yellow and he could smell a citrusy scent waft over from the house – and bounced over to Shirabu, his light grey locks bouncing up and down. He had lighter eyes and his face wasn’t as serious as Eita’s, a beauty mark directly under his left eye and crinkling when he smiled.
“Oh, a visitor!” He said excitedly, taking both of Shirabu’s hands in his own, warm ones and shaking with such vigor that Shirabu thought his arms would fall off. “I’m so glad to have some company for once!”
Eita, who’d gotten up and stalked over – still barefoot – snatched the other boy’s hands away and drew him back. “So you’ve come back? Didn’t think you’d find the way.
The fair skinned boy looked from Shirabu to Eita. “So you know him, Eita?” He asked
The other shook his head. “He appeared in the garden yesterday and wouldn’t leave.”
“And you kept him a secret? Oh, how rude of me!” He turned around again to face Shirabu. “My name is Koushi! It’s so nice to meet you!” His smile looked real and warm and Shirabu could feel the corners of his mouth lift up as well.
“Shirabu. Likewise,” he replied, taking in both boys before him. They couldn’t be much older, maybe around Tendou’s age, and despite being outside right now, they looked like they didn’t get much sunlight. “So, are you two brothers?”
They exchanged a look and Koushi finally answered. “Not by blood. We were both adopted by Auntie Whispers, though. So we’re basically family.” Eita smiled slightly at that.
Shirabu frowned. “Auntie Whispers?”
Koushi opened his mouth to answer, but Eita slapped his hand over his… brother’s mouth, cutting him off. “There’s no need for you to know any more. What do you want here?”
As if remembering what he’d come here for, he stuck his hand in his bag and pulled out the tool he’d gotten from Reon. “On the way here, I have seen your herbary. In exchange for a few ingredients, I have brought you this gift. May I?”
Eita snatched the packet from his hands before Koushi could even express his gratitude, and unwrapped the thing, taking it in with shining eyes. “What’s it for?”
Shirabu eyed him cautiously. “It's a hoe. To tend to your garden. It shall help you plant your seeds as well,” he replied easily, trying not to appear put-off by Eita’s lack of knowledge.
“But you didn’t have to bring us anything!” Koushi finally interrupted them, smiling softly. “We don’t even use half of the herbs we cultivate; I’m sure Auntie does not mind if a few of them go to you!” Eita nodded, for once agreeing with his brother, and held tightly onto the hoe as if it could magically disappear any moment.
“You should not be coming back after that though,” he said, effectively ruining the good mood that had settled between them. “It’s too dangerous for someone like you.”
“Eita,” Koushi sighed, and it sounded as if they’d had this conversation a multitude of times before. “I really-“
Shooting him a glare, he silenced Koushi. “And if we allowed him to stay, what good would that do, Koushi? Everyone who can leave, will leave.”
“Are you still bitter about that?” Koushi asked with a twinkle in his eyes, his lips quirked up as if he knew some profound secret that Shirabu didn’t. Which probably was the case.
Eita stared darkly at his brother. “Of course! He broke your heart!” He replied heatedly, and Koushi chuckled once again.
“Oh Eita. I already said it was fine. I’m not mad at him anymore, you can let it go,” he said, grabbing his brother’s hands and patting them gently. At that, the other seemed to finally calm down, and Shirabu felt as if he was intruding in some pseudo-family bonding moment. “I am glad he was able to leave safely. And it wasn't his fault.”
He cleared his throat. “I am very sorry to interrupt this heart-warming moment, but may I be seen to the herbs?”
Both of them sighed simultaneously, but Koushi nudged Eita forward to lead him there. “Sure,” the boy replied finally, taking his gaze off of Koushi. “What are you looking for exactly?”
He described the plant and – leaving Koushi behind to clean off their plates – Eita set off for one of the patches, seemingly knowing where to look. He crouched down onto the soil and pushed some of the plants away to get to it. Shirabu thanked him and pocketed a few stems, carefully wrapping them into a moist cloth so they stayed fresh. “So,” he started once again now that one of his incentives was gone, “who is Auntie Whispers? And how come I’ve never come across this garden despite living here my entire life?”
Eita looked aside, avoiding his gaze and shuffled his feet on the ground. “I can’t answer you these questions.” When Shirabu went to speak again he made a shushing motion with his hand. “No, I don’t think you understand. I literally cannot."
Shirabu scowled, obviously not happy with the answer but he also didn’t want to press the question any more. It wasn’t his place to ask, even though he’d just done that.
“I’m sorry,” he answered, hoping it came across as earnest. “I did not mean to pry.”
“It’s fine,” Eita sighed, dragging his hand over his eyes as if he were tired. Or perhaps just worn out. “You should leave – for the day.”
The other perked up at that. “For today?” He asked, his tone hopeful.
Eita nodded. “You made Koushi happier than I’d seen him in a while. But for now you must go – for Auntie’ll wake soon.”
And with that he ushered him out of their garden, closing the gate behind him and turning away immediately.
Shirabu didn’t mind all that much, now that he had a reason to come back.
Lord Ushijima came into his laboratory the next day just as he was working on the tincture, adding the freshly sampled herbs and taking notes on how the colour changed from a light blue to a yellowy orange.
“I gather you have gotten what you were looking for?” He asked, his tone serious but his eyes kind.
“Suppose so, sir.” Shirabu gave a light bow to Ushijima before focusing on his studies again. The mixture came to a boil over the open flame, forming bubbles and emitting a bitter scent. “Its usefulness hasn’t been confirmed yet, but I have high hopes.”
Out of the corners of his eyes he saw their Lord nod, obviously satisfied with his response. “You were always very diligent. I expect only the best from you, Shirabu.”
He allowed himself to smile when he heard Ushijima’s footsteps fade away.
Tendou caught his arm as he made his way outside, wanting to get a sniff of fresh air after hours upon hours of fumes straining his sense of smell.
“What is it?” He didn’t mean to snap, but the other’s presence was getting on his nerves. It wasn’t like he had nothing better to do.
“For Christ’s sake, Shirabu, calm down.” Tendou playfully rolled his eyes and whistled a light tune, before sniffing the air. “You smell an awful lot like lemons. What’s up with that?”
Shirabu furrowed his brows. He hadn’t added anything citrusy to the mixture, he was sure about that. So there could be no plausible reason for the smell to linger around him. He shrugged his shoulders. So what? “What does it matter to you?”
The redhead bristled at that. “Nothing, I s’ppose. Just think it’s weird, that’s all. And also-“ he stuck out his tongue as to underline his next statement- “I really dislike sour fruit. Bleh!”
With that he let go of Shirabu’s arm and strode away, most likely to look for his squire.
The entire interaction left Shirabu puzzled.
He decided to pay Jin a visit afterwards – the old man would surely be able to answer at least some of his questions.
Greeting Reon as well as Taichi in passing, he made his way over to the other’s quarters, knocking lightly on the wood door as to not disturb the man in case he was asleep.
Shirabu waited until he heard a soft-spoken ‘Come in’ before he pushed open the door, which made a creaky sound. “Jin?” He asked tentatively.
Ushijima’s advisor hummed, bending over his polished desk and writing away furiously. “What’s wrong, boy?”
He carefully closed the door behind him, not wanting to give anyone the opportunity to eavesdrop on their conversation, and took a seat on a lone chair near the door. “You’ve grown up around here, haven’t you?”
Jin wrote one last word and then laid down the quill, holding the piece of parchment he’d been writing on in front of his face to scrutinize it. “That’s about right. My grandfather, old man Washijou, as we kids would call him, he nurtured me. Took me into the woods and taught me everything he knew. That’s what you’re here for, right? The woods.”
It wasn’t a question as much as a statement. Shirabu bobbed his head up and down in affirmation until he remembered that Jin couldn’t see it. “Yes,” he clarified, wondering when his voice had gotten so hoarse. “I have… Jin, I have seen something – someone – in the woods.”
At that, the old man turned around. “Or so it seems.” He replied wistfully, stroking his beard in thought.
Shirabu frowned. “Do you think I am telling lies?”
“No, I do believe you. But as I have said, do not trust everything you see.”
Yes, Shirabu remembered their conversation the day prior. He hadn’t forgotten anything Jin had told him, but he also hadn’t seen any turtles and the two boys seemed quite normal as well.
He decided to make a clean sweep of it. “Do you, per chance, know of an Auntie Whispers in the village nearby?” He asked, his heart hammering in his chest.
Jin pondered about the question, his eyes clouding over. “Alas, I once did, but that must have been ages ago. She was but an old woman – a witch, they said – when I was just a young lad. If my grandfather were still alive, they would be around the same age now. Say, where have you heard that name?”
Shirabu had turned deathly pale. There was no way… It probably was just a coincidence. They could not possibly talk about the same person. “I read it in a book.” He lied. “Jin, did she have any children?”
“Not that I know, no. Just a sister. Adelaide, if my mind is not faulty. And,” he trained his sly gaze onto Shirabu, “for she was a witch, all books containing her name were burnt.”
The copper-haired boy sprung up from the chair as if something had stung him, racing over to the door and grasping its handle. “I have forgotten to tend to my tincture, please excuse me.”
Jin waved him off. “Don’t meddle with what is not in your control,” was all Shirabu heard as he closed the door behind him.
Third time was the charm, and, thank heavens, he knew the way by now. Grumbling he stepped through the forest, cursing himself for not even taking his satchel with him or telling anyone where he went. But it was too late now; the sun was setting and he’d already went half of the way.
When he finally arrived at the gate, he pushed it open without hesitation, stepping inside as if the property belonged to him.
But something was different – there was smoke coming from chimney and the windows were lit up, glowing golden under the darkening sky. Carefully he made his way over to one, peeking inside.
There wasn’t a lot to see: it was a kitchen, barely decorated, with a table, three chairs and a water tub, as well as a small fireplace. The pans and skillets he could make out from his place seemed to be in good condition.
Finally, he saw a figure, standing by the table. At first glance he couldn’t tell if it was Eita or Koushi, so he heaved himself upwards just a tiny bit. The boy’s hair colour was light – lighter than Eita’s, so it must have been Koushi.
And yes, the voice accompanying the person – clear like birdsong – sounded like Koushi’s too. He seemed to be singing lowly to himself, as he sliced whatever was on the cutting board in front of him, a secure grip on the knife.
Shirabu strained his ears to pick up the words he was murmuring. It was a poem, without rhyme or reason, and he repeated it over and over again.
Shirabu shuddered, stepping away from the window when a hand suddenly clasped onto his shoulder. He shrieked, the air leaving his lungs and prepared himself to run as fast as he could when he heard Eita’s harsh voice.
“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?”
He was so relieved he felt like crying. With one hand pressed to his heart he turned towards the other boy, lit only by the glow from inside the house.
Eita was as pretty as he remembered him to be – white skin, ashen hair and the ever-present scowl marring his otherwise perfect face. Then he noticed what the other was holding in his hand.
It was dark, and moved slowly, as if trying to escape the grip that held it in captivity. Eita met his gaze, raising his hand to give the other a better look at it. “It’s just a turtle.” He said casually, as if turtles in this part of Japan were normal. “Koushi’s turtle, probably. He always gives them names; this one might be either Dai or Asa. I don’t get why he does it, though. They all die.” He frowned at the animal in his hand.
Shirabu began to answer but a shrill, female voice interrupted him.
“Eita!” It called. “Koushi is almost done with dinner! Will you not join us?”
Shooting one last, apologetic look at Shirabu, the boy pushed him swiftly aside, in the direction of the gate, and went to the front door. “You should not come back, but you don’t listen to me, no matter how often I tell you. One day you will regret not heeding my warning.”
It sounded more like a threat, but alright. Shirabu opened his mouth before the other could disappear inside. “May I stay here for the night? I will get horribly lost if I try to find my way back.” It was only half a lie.
Eita eyed him for a moment. “There’s a barn, at the end of the garden. Just follow the path, but don’t stray from it,” he finally relented, shutting the door behind him without as much a glance back.
Shirabu sighed, but complied nonetheless. He hadn’t much of a choice, after all.
There was indeed a barn at the end of the path. On his way he had noted some weird stone formations, but it was too dark to investigate them and, as curious as he was, he didn’t want to aggravate Eita any further, nor did he want to get in any more trouble himself. Jin had talked about the turtles and, lo and behold, there had been turtles. If they were dangerous was a whole other question, but Shirabu did not want to test his luck.
Instead he opted to push open the old barn door, pushing aside the hay that had previously lain in front of it, and locked the door behind him again with the bolt. Twice.
Then – passing by fertilizer and other dubious bags of unknown content – he scooped up some of the hay in his arms and unceremoniously dumped it in the corner farthest away from the door, trying to create a makeshift-bed.
Once he was content with his creation, he settled down, for the first time realising the gravity of this whole situation. Lord Ushijima and the others would surely worry about his whereabouts, and there was no way to tell if the lady of the house would be as kind to him as Eita and Koushi had been. Of course, both boys had only spoken kindly of her, but if the lady truly was a witch – not that Shirabu believed in such nonsense – there was no telling as to what she would do to him.
He shivered, both from the sudden fear welling up in his gut as well as the cold night air blowing through the openings in the wood.
He hoped he’d made the right decision in trusting the boy.
The next morning he was awoken by a multitude of things: the sound of rain hitting the roof of the barn, something wet dropping rhythmically on his cheek and another sort of pounding, harsher and getting louder and louder by the minute.
Someone was trying to get in.
He gasped, bolting upright and pressing into the corner, the hay digging into his back. It itched slightly, but he paid it no mind.
Then he heard the voice. “For goodness’s sake, Shirabu, it’s just me! Let me in!” The voice, deep and rich like honey, hissed at him through the flimsy wooden door, and he scrambled to get up and remove the bolts.
In front of him stood a drenched Eita, holding what seemed to be a bowl of porridge and a jug of water out to him. “I figured you’d be hungry,” he said while motioning for Shirabu to step aside.
Shirabu eyed the food carefully. Yes, he was indeed quite hungry, but he also did not know if he could trust the boy. He had been foolish, so foolish by disregarding Jin’s warning.
Eita stared at him. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
That was what anyone would say in this type of situation. Nevertheless, he grumbled and accepted the food. They’d had enough opportunities to get rid of him during the night, and after the first bite of the still warm meal, he deemed it safe enough and wolfed it down.
The other boy stared at him throughout this entire ordeal, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked nervous when he started to speak again. “Oh and… Koushi might have told Auntie about you.”
Shirabu didn’t even notice he’d lost his grip on the spoon until it clattered noisily onto the ground. He stared back. “What?”
Eita sighed. “He got overexcited and prattled away. She wants to meet you this evening, if that is not a problem for you. She’s a superb gardener herself, so if you wanted any more tips on how to brew… whatever it is you needed those herbs for, this would be your chance.” He didn’t fully look convinced by the words himself, but Shirabu was intrigued.
“That would be… I mean… thank you!” He remembered his manners and bowed deeply, staring at Eita’s shuffling feet dirtying the golden straw littering the ground.
“Ah… it’s no big deal,” the other mumbled. “You should probably thank Koushi and his big mouth.” Shirabu wasn’t sure if he heard a very quiet ‘you shouldn’t thank us at all, you should run’, but he’d probably just imagined that part.
Shirabu set to answer, but Eita beat him to it.
“Say, do you perhaps want to garden with me until then? Auntie sleeps during the day.”
Shirabu nodded, delighted with how well this was turning out.
Despite the rain – which thankfully hadn’t worsened during the day – they had managed quite a lot. Planting seeds in September still seemed odd to Shirabu, but what did he know? This whole place seemed ethereal. Around lunchtime Koushi had brought them rye bread with jam and freshly pressed lemonade, which tasted better than anything Shirabu had ever eaten at the castle. They’d sat around the pond and chatted quietly, laughing and sharing stories.
Shirabu had learned that they hadn’t always lived here, but they couldn’t really remember when they’d come here either. He decided not to dwell on the answers – or lack thereof – he was getting and to just enjoy their company instead.
After that, Koushi took their dishes and brought them inside, leaving them to each other once again.
Nightfall came faster than expected. They finished their duties outside and Shirabu shortly worried about his friends – his family, but a cold hand clasping his wrist in a vice-like grip roused him from his thoughts and he followed Eita to the front door.
All the times he’d been here before, he had not noticed the nametag reading ‘Adelaide’ that was nailed onto the wood. The name seemed familiar, but his mind felt foggy for some reason.
Eita saw him staring and nudged him to go on, motioning for him to take off his shoes and closing the door behind them. “Auntie doesn’t like the night air. It makes her ill. That’s why she cannot tend to the garden either. Koushi and I help her out as much as we can.”
Shirabu nodded; that would explain why he’d never seen her outside as well. Eita led him through a narrow hallway and the wooden planks felt cold under his feet. They reached a door and the other knocked lightly on it, calling out a soft ‘Auntie?’.
The same voice he’d heard the night prior croaked out a ‘yes, my dear?’ and he hesitantly opened the door, displaying a frail, old woman with grey hair sitting upright in a bed.
The woman – Auntie Whispers, he reminded himself – looked kind, although her cheeks had fallen in and dark bags had formed beneath her eyes. She smiled, showing teeth and motioned for them to come closer.
Eita stepped over the woollen yarn littering the floor, and Shirabu followed suit. The closer he got, the more Auntie seemed to look like a spider – not literally, but the way she looked at them like they were prey was disturbing. He felt sweat run down his back and swallowed the lump in his throat, pushing his worries aside. This was just a harmless old woman, no matter what his gut told him. If Eita and Koushi trusted her, then he could too.
“Have you closed the door, my child?” She addressed Eita, and the boy nodded. “You know that Auntie does not respond well to the cold.”
Then she trained her gaze onto Shirabu, scanning him carefully. “And this must be the boy Koushi has talked about, then?” Eita nodded once again, averting his gaze and Shirabu stepped forward.
“Miss, may I ask you something?”
She laughed, but the sound rang hollowly in his ears, as if it didn’t hold any real meaning. “You may call me Auntie Whispers, and you may ask me anything, fret not.”
“Is it true that you are a witch?” He asked, and felt Eita freeze up beside him.
Auntie stared at him, disbelievingly, before she chuckled, holding her hand in front of her mouth. “Oh, my dear child! Not any woman that knows about herbs is automatically a witch! You mustn’t believe everything you hear!”
Shirabu laughed along, forgetting about his nervousness, his uneasiness and felt secure for once. This was just an old lady, caring about her adopted nephews.
She then beckoned for Shirabu to come closer, reaching out to grasp his hand. “Say, what is your real name?” She asked him, and he could see Eita from the corners of his eyes try to catch his attention by vehemently shaking his head.
“Kenjiro,” he replied, and something heavy settled in his chest. It pressed down onto his lungs and constricted his breathing, but as fast as it had arrived it went away, leaving him breathless for only a second.
“What a beautiful name for a pretty young boy such as yourself. Kenjiro, why not stay here? You seem to know a lot of herbology and you look strong, we could use your help. And,” her eyes twinkled in the dim light of the room, “you have that scent of magic clinging to you.”
Shirabu tried to retract his hand but for such an old woman, she surely had a strong grip. “Ah, I mustn’t. I have family and friends in Sendai, they will miss me.”
She fixated him with her eyes, and her bony fingers stroked his hand. They felt like spiders on his soft skin. “Oh, my poor boy! They’ve already forgotten you, I’m afraid. Stay here with us and let me fill your head with wool.” She smiled sweetly at him.
“No, I mustn’t.” He repeated, ripping his hand away and stumbling backwards, directly into Eita who steadied him by clutching his upper arm.
“You can’t leave now.”
Shirabu whirled around, glaring daggers at the boy, but Eita just looked forlorn and sad.
“I tried to warn you, Kenjiro. But you did not listen, and now you must pay the prize. I will show you to your room.” With that he steered the perplexed boy out into the hallway, closing the door to Adelaide’s chamber.
Shirabu tried to break free once again, and to his surprise, Eita let him go. “There’s no use in trying to flee. She has your name and she has already weaved it into her web of lies and false hope.”
They all were godforsaken lunatics, the whole bunch of them. He made a run for it, not bothering to grab his shoes and pushed the heavy oaken door open, running into the still drizzling rain.
The gate!
Neither Koushi nor Eita tried to stop him, or even yell after him, but he decided not to dwell on this kind of suspicious behaviour.
Shirabu opened the gate, tried to pass through, but he got caught in a cobweb that had not been there the last day.
His face paled, the more he struggled the more it tangled around his body, wrapping around his limbs and constricting his movement. “No, no no no no!” He yelled into the cold night air, and white puffs of air escaped his mouth.
He stalled for a moment to catch his breath and that was when he saw something approaching, glinting in the light spilling out from the doorway.
It was Koushi, carrying a knife.
“Calm down, Kenjiro,” he hushed in a low voice, holding his hands up to indicate that he meant no harm. Which was hard to believe when he was carrying a knife this big. But instead of hurting him, he cut him free from the spider web and pulled him towards his own body. “No one ever left. At least not alive.”
And suddenly Eita was there, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He had a lantern in the other hand, most likely from inside the house, and held it in front of them, illuminating the way.
Neither Eita nor Koushi spoke a word the entire way. They ventured through the garden, passing by the bench and the pond, pine and oak trees and finally stopped in front of several stones.
Or at least Shirabu thought them to be simple stones. The nearer he got, the better he could see that something was engraved in them.
Tombstones.
He crouched down, holding onto the cold, mossy stone and swiping his thumb across it to make out the name.
‘Kozume Kenma’, it read. There was no date.
And like that he went through the other names.
‘Moniwa Kaname’.
‘Akaashi Keiji’.
‘Yahaba Shigeru’.
None of these names seemed familiar, but the gravestones looked old. Too old.
A warm hand was placed on top of his head. “You- you will not die unless you anger her. Or you choose to die yourself. There’s no other way. No other way to leave.”
Tears welled up in his eyes and he whirled around, swatting the hand away and clawing at the nearest pair of limbs he could find. “You tricked me! It’s- it’s all your fault! You told her of me!”
Koushi sighed. “We did not. You might feel betrayed, but it was always your choice to come back. We tried to make you leave. We really did. And she was bound to find out, sooner or later.”
Shirabu pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block out the other’s words, but it was no use. They rung in his head, repeating in an ever-lasting loop. “Do you really not remember how long you’ve been here?” he finally asked, when he trusted his voice to work again.
Judging by the sudden silence, they were most likely exchanging looks, conversing in a language only they knew.
“I-“ Eita started at the same time that Koushi said “We-“.
There was silence once again, until Eita tried anew. “We have been here for a… a very long time. A century, maybe. We only have seen some of them come here-“ he gestured towards the graves- “but we have seen all of them die. We have buried their bodies. Or at least the- what was left of them.”
Koushi stayed silent.
“And no one, no one ever left?”
They both shook their heads in unison.
“Once she’s got you, she doesn’t let you.”
Suddenly something collapsed in the mud beside him, wrapping around his upper body. Koushi sobbed into his shoulder. “I don’t- I don’t want to have to bury you too, Kenjiro. Not again. Not anymore.” He let the older boy – he now realized they were not his age – cry into his shirt until he’d calmed down, wiped his nose off and sent him a shaky smile. Shirabu didn’t feel like smiling.
“When we met, I mean, when I met the both of you, you said everyone that could leave, has left. What about them?”
Koushi just hugged him tighter. “Oh Kenjiro. Those were- I don’t think you get it.”
“Well then explain it to me!” He snapped, and Koushi flinched. Apologetic, he awkwardly rubbed the other’s arm. It wasn’t Koushi’s fault, no matter how much he wanted to believe that.
“Now and then, some people show up. It doesn’t happen too often, but it’s also not impossible. But they don’t have an ounce of magic in them, so she’s not interested. She’s fine with them as long as they don’t meddle with her plans, but… if they intervene, she makes them forget us; shows us their future, how they grow old and become happy without our intervention, to- I don’t know, probably to discourage us.”
Eita turned around, facing the horizon and seemingly not wanting to spend any more time outside, but Shirabu had one more question.
“So Eita and Koushi are your true names, right?”
He waited until both boys had nodded.
“But a name consists of two parts. What were your surnames?”
They both exchanged another look, although this one seemed rather confused. “When you’re here as long as we have been,” Eita started, and Koushi took over when he suddenly stalled, perhaps not able to continue, “then you kind of forget such minor details of your past life.”
The ashen boy – ashen-haired, as well as ashen-faced – offered them his hands and pulled them both up, mud and soil clinging to their legs and pants. “We should get inside,” he remarked drily. “Unless you want to try to flee again?”
Shirabu shook his head, defeated. He wouldn’t give up, not until he found a way for all of them to escape, but for now he’d have to make do with playing along, acting like a willing subject to this cruel game.
And as they led him back to the hut, dressed him in dry clothes and showed him his quarters when there should not have been enough place for a fourth bedroom in the tiny house, he schemed and planned, took notes and explored the garden until he had seen every last inch of it.
But as the days went by and no one came along to look for him, the hope in his heart started to dwindle too, until it was but the dying embers of an once raging fire, and he was as bitter as Lemon Boy himself.
Then, one day – it might have been a decade later, it might have been a century later, time was hard to tell in this cursed place – the boy named Tobio appeared.