Archive of Our Own

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The world they have landed in this time round is a fairly ordinary one. The inn they’re in is a cosy little thing, double-storeyed with a thatched roof and a wooden front door complete with ivy romantically crawling up along the white-washed walls, and Fai, Kurogane and Syaoran are currently sitting in the dining room listening to the innkeeper couple across from them recount small disputes at the borders, as well as their concerns over the raise in grain taxes imposed on them by their landowner. It’s a welcome change from the last world, where they had spent most of their time cowering in trenches as fighter drones whined long and terrible above their heads, so Fai for one is glad for the opportunity to be able to sit back and relax in a world with no immediate danger, washing off the grime and exhaustion accumulated from their previous travels. But though this world has so far been unremarkable in its mundanity, it did, however, have one uncommon feature. 

‘Marriage is a luxury, here,’ the innkeeper, this world’s Sorata, explains while stirring a cup of tea with a spoon. (The three of them had been offered tea too, but they’d declined.) ‘I don’t know what it’s like where you guys are from, but here, to get married there’s an office that you have to go to, and to the person in charge there, you have to prove that you’re worthy of the status of “married” by proving that you’ve paid—’ And here Sorata lifts his hands up and makes air quotes, ‘—“the price to stay together”.’ 

Fai is intrigued. ‘What’s that?’ 

‘Back in the past it was more metaphorical,’ Sorata says, as a kettle settled on top of the stove at the back of the dining room starts to whistle. Sorata’s partner, Arashi—not wife, partner, Fai reminds himself—gets up to attend to it, picking up Sorata’s teacup along the way, and Sorata sends a goofy grin up to her before turning back to the three of them seated at the table. (Mokona didn’t technically count since she’s currently riding on Syaoran’s shoulder.) ‘Our country had been torn apart by terrible provincial wars in the past—it was only under the current queen’s grandmother that this country became united. Dire circumstances had been the norm. That’s why, to be considered married, it became the custom to show proof of the sacrifices you’ve made to stay with your lover, even when circumstances tried to pull you apart. But now the meaning’s become more literal. People pay the “price” in actual money to get married. Marriage’s become more of a product you purchase, in that sense.’ 

‘Is that the only way to get married, now? Or is the old way still viable?’ Syaoran, the ever-enthusiastic history scholar, asks, leaning forward with interest. Fai smiles fondly at him. 

‘The old way’s still legitimate! It’s just really rare nowadays. Times are peaceful so there’s not much—to put it crudely—occasion to “sacrifice”, in that sense. Money’s become the customary way to get married, and since that costs a lot, marriage is usually something that only nobles can afford.’

Syaoran asks how much is “a lot”, and the price Sorata names makes his eyes fly wide open. Fai whistles. 

‘That is a lot of money,’ Fai observes, to which Kurogane snorts and nods in agreement. 

‘It is!’ Sorata confirms. ‘The price, when first implemented, was supposed to be proportionate to what was considered “sacrifice”. That’s why it’s so expensive. Us working lot typically can’t afford it, and well, even if we could, we usually don’t anyway.’ 

Sorata smiles and puts a hand up to grip at Arashi’s resting briefly on his shoulder, as Arashi sets a fresh cup of tea down in front of him. 

‘What do you mean?’ Syaoran asks. 

‘It’s not part of our culture to get married,’ Sorata explains. Arashi moves away to wash up at the sink. ‘It’s not really an expected rite of passage or milestone in relationships the way I know it is in other places; it’s more of a class symbol than anything else.’

Fai nods thoughtfully, as Sorata reaches and takes a sip from the tea in front of him. 

‘Your customs certainly are very different from our worlds’,’ Fai says. 

Fai keeps the pronunciation of the ending sibilant ambiguous. However, from the look that Kurogane shoots his way, Fai knows that the swordsman’s caught onto it. That’s fine, though, because Sorata himself seems none the wiser. 

‘“our world”? C’mon, I know you guys came from far away, but there’s no need to be like that!’ Sorata grins at the three of them, and Fai holds his tongue. ‘And I think we might have more in common than you realise.

‘After all, our symbol for marriage is the same, even though our customs are so different.’  

Sorata eyes Fai and Kurogane. Fai knows that he’s looking in particular at the earring that’s hanging from Fai’s right earlobe, a golden teardrop-shaped globe that glints low in the late afternoon sunlight. The earring is simple, for all the weight and significance that it holds, and Fai has never once taken it off. The earring in his left ear may change as casually and quickly as the tide of fancy, but the one in his right earlobe will always stay constant and true to shore. 

To Fai’s left, there’s movement as Kurogane shifts uncomfortably under Sorata’s gaze. Fai grins at that, leaning into the taller man’s weight before deliberately tipping his head onto Kurogane’s shoulder and nuzzling into it. 

‘Aw, Kuro-pon is being shy,’ he croons, because Fai has never once passed up an opportunity to make fun of Kurogane in any way, supposed matrimony or no. ‘It’s okay, you’re still the big bad guard dog of this family, don’t worry—’ 

Fai cheerily pokes at Kurogane’s cheek. On the other side, Mokona hops from Syaoran’s shoulder to Kurogane’s and proceeds to do the same, under Syaoran’s concerned eyes and ignoring Kurogane’s rumbling growls of mounting irritation. 

‘No need to be shy, Kuro-papa!’ Mokona chirrups, right on cue, when Fai sends a wink her way. ‘You and Fai-mama are very much in love, and there’s nothing wrong with showing it off for the world to see! Kuro-papa has a soft side, after all.’ 

As she speaks, Mokona bats at the earring hanging from Kurogane’s own right ear, a matching golden drop earring that, similar to Fai, has never been taken off since the day the both of them had gotten them and put them on. Unlike Fai, Kurogane’s other ear is unpierced—which actually declares loyalty and affection to Fai almost as loud as the earring itself. Even as Kurogane swipes at the offending white creature currently bouncing on his head, threatening to throw both her and his earring into a river, Kurogane’s hands never even move close to the jewellery in question, and that, to Fai, speaks more to Fai about proof than anything else. Fai hides a fond smile by turning back to face Sorata, who is watching the situation with amusement. 

‘Don’t mind them over there, that’s normal for us,’ Fai says, as the ever-concerned Syaoran attempts to mitigate the situation. ‘It is quite a coincidence that both our expressions of marriage are the same, though, even when we are so different in other areas.’ 

Fai is only lying a little bit. To call what he and Kurogane have a “marriage” would be to oversimplify the issue; there has never really been a name to what they had, one reason being that no word has ever been quite accurate enough, another that there has never been a need for one. The earrings, too, hadn’t precisely been a deliberate choice of declaration on their part; simply a vendor a few worlds back, a tug by Fai on Kurogane’s sleeve, and then they’d returned to the hut Syaoran and Mokona had been waiting in with their day’s provisions and a new earring in each of their ears. Heavier than whim but less customary than rite, the earrings held none of the ceremony of a marriage or a wedding, but that didn’t mean they were any less meaningful. Fai reaches one hand up, and touches the smooth metal; feels the rounded tip, and is reassured by it. The weight of it at his ear, the cold metallic brush of it against the side of his jaw, grounds and anchors Fai in ways that are hard to describe—Fai thinks now that if he ever took the earring off, he would feel unbalanced somehow, incomplete. 

‘I think you’ll find that humans will always have more similarities than we will have differences, at least in the things that matter,’ Sorata laughs, and Fai smiles at that. ‘I just hope you won’t run into trouble in town here, though—nobles can sometimes get quite touchy about what they think is “commoners stepping outside their lines”.’ 

Fai blinks, and leans forward. ‘Do you think that will happen?’ 

Sorata shrugs one shoulder. ‘Probably not, since the noble who owns the land here isn’t that kind of guy—but sometimes he has relatives or friends who visit, and they’re not necessarily as,’ Sorata coughs, ‘intelligent.’ 

Arashi, who arrived just in time to catch this last sentence, admonishes, ‘Sorata.’ 

‘Yes, yes, I know, the walls have ears, blah blah,’ Sorata flaps his hands in Arashi’s direction, who manages to look distinctly unamused even as the corners of her mouth twitches slightly. 

Arashi turns to the three of them. ‘Things should be alright, though,’ she reassures, placid in her confidence. ‘You guys are travellers. You’re not obliged to this land’s customs or traditions.’ 

‘You’ve got that right,’ Kurogane snorts, and Fai turns to see Kurogane, having won and subsequently finished the tussle with Mokona, tuning into the conversation. Mokona is currently wailing dramatically into Syaoran’s cloak about “a mean Kuro-papa”, and Syaoran is worriedly attempting to soothe her. ‘If some stuffy noble bothers us about something like this, I’ll just hack them to pieces.’ 

‘Kuro-wan is such a violent puppy,’ Fai whines. He wags a finger in Kurogane’s face. ‘No making trouble while we’re here! Sorata and Arashi have been kind enough to give us a room to stay in, and we mustn’t be a nuisance!’ 

‘Tch,’ Kurogane mutters, but he doesn’t argue back, so Fai knows that he’s won. 

‘Speaking of that,’ Arashi says. ‘Your rooms are ready. Would you like any help moving in?’ 

‘Oh, no need at all, but thank you for the offer, Arashi-chan! It’s very kind of you,’ Fai shoots her a beatific smile, and Arashi smiles and bows her head back in return. Rising from the table, Fai pulls at Kurogane’s sleeve. ‘Kuro-sama, come help lift all the heavy luggage, don’t leave poor little me or Syaoran or Mokona to do it.’ 

‘I wasn’t going to,’ Kurogane growls, standing up. 

‘I can help!’ Syaoran gets to his feet as well. 

‘Alright! But don’t overexert yourself, alright? Leave everything to big strong daddy over here,’ Fai pats Kurogane’s shoulder, and darts his hand back laughing when Kurogane snaps at it with his teeth. 

Amidst the bustle of moving their things and settling into the inn room, the topic of marriage and price is pushed to the back of everyone’s minds. 

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Turns out, trouble makes itself so long as they are concerned. 

It had just been a regular day at the market. Fai had stopped at a stall selling particularly fresh-looking fish and, while in the midst of alternating between sweetly charming and outright haggling his way into a cheaper price for a bundle of shellfish, the fishmonger had noticed the jewellery hanging from his ear. 

‘That earring looks very familiar,’ she says, squinting at it. 

‘Have you seen someone else wearing an identical one, by any chance?’ Fai asks. ‘Black hair, red eyes, grumpy-looking, tall—’ Fai gestures to a space above his head where he estimates Kurogane’s height to be, ‘and most probably wearing black?’ 

‘Oh yes!’ The fishmonger’s eyes light up. ‘He was my customer two days ago. Drove a real hard bargain for the river fish— Probably thought he could intimidate me into giving him a cheaper price, kid’s got another thing coming—’ 

The fishmonger pauses mid-thought.

‘Hold on,’ she says. The look on her face suggests incredulity, and Fai arranges his own facial expression to express attentive pleasantry even as, internally, he laughs at the notion of the hulking Kurogane being referred to as a kid. ‘Are you and that man married?’ 

‘Well, not precisely,’ Fai begins to explain. ‘We’re travellers, see, and—’

‘A commoner like you, married?!’ 

Blinking, Fai pauses mid-sentence and swivels his head to see a man, dressed in finely-tailored clothes made of what looks like velvet and silk ( In this weather? Fai wonders. It’s summer) huffing indignantly in his direction. Fai looks at the man’s immaculately coiffed blond hair, the jewelled rings worn on multiple fingers of each hand, notices the golden crest that indicates a noble house gleaming bright on the breast pocket of the man’s suit in the sunlight, and thinks, oh, dear.    

‘Not really, sir, no,’ Fai says, holding his hands up in what he hopes is a placating manner. ‘If you’ll allow me to explain—’

‘Silence,’ the man orders, and obediently Fai snaps his mouth shut with a click —already, though, Fai can hear the cursing out Kurogane is going to give him once he escapes this situation and reports back to the inn. They’ve gotten into their fair share of trouble, some life-threatening and others fairly benign, when travelling through different worlds, and while this ranks fairly low on their trouble scale, it’s still probably going to be a headache to wriggle out of this one. 

The noble strides forward in three steps, and circles Fai in what he probably thinks is an intimidating manner. Fai, for the most part, keeps his opinions to himself, though he thinks that the smile that’s currently curling his lips is a bit too amused to pass off as politeness. Behind the stall, Fai can sense the fishmonger watching the scene play out, nervous as a hawk, eyes darting from side to side as things unfold. 

‘Are you a noble?’ The noble asks, finally. 

Fai shakes his head. ‘No, sir,’ he replies. ‘My companions and I are travellers.’ 

The noble narrows his eyes. ‘As I thought. Well, that I could tell as much,’ he says, turning his nose up at the well-worn edges of Fai’s blue robes, the sturdy nature of his boots. The dust the noble kicks up from the dirt road in his circling is settling on his velvet mules. Fai wonders if the noble notices. ‘Are you aware that by wearing matching earrings with your partner you are assuming the status of marriage, a status which you have not earned?’ 

‘I’m aware that couple earrings are your country’s ceremonial way of expressing matrimony,’ Fai says. ‘However, sir—’

‘I don’t want to hear your excuses!’ The noble barks, and Fai once again shuts his mouth with an imperceptible sigh. ‘You are deliberately disrespecting the rule of the noble who governs this piece of land! The impudence! You are to report to the Office of Union first thing tomorrow morning with your partner, so as to rescind your earrings and apologise in person to your ruling noble for your actions.’

‘What happens if we don’t show up tomorrow?’ Fai asks. 

The noble narrows his eyes. ‘Then a land-wide manhunt will begin for you and your partner, and you will be captured and thrown into jail without trial.’ 

Of course. Fai sighs again. 

‘We’ll be there,’ he tells the noble. 

The noble draws back. ‘Good.’ He turns away, apparently satisfied, and starts back down the street. The two guards that had previously been leaning unobtrusively against a wall straighten themselves and fall into position behind the noble, flanking him on either side. 

Fai stares after the noble’s back for a few more seconds, before decisively turning back to the fishmonger who looks decidedly concerned for his future. 

‘So how much for the shellfish, now?’ 

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‘I can’t believe you ran into Atsuya in the marketplace,’ Sorata groans. ‘Atsuya! Of all people! Wasn’t he supposed to be out of town? Doesn’t he live out of town? Why is he constantly crashing at his brother’s place if he’s got a castle of his own, anyway? He’s a snobbish, stuck up, absolute jackass of a bastard—’ 

‘Sorata—’ 

‘And he usually doesn’t even go to the marketplace,’ Sorata continues on, as if he hasn’t even heard his partner Arashi’s chastisement, ‘since he’s made his hatred of places like that abundantly clear, so what was he even doing there? Honestly, the fact that you managed to run into him there and get into trouble really means your luck is the worst of the worst.’ 

Fai laughs. ‘Well, perhaps.’ 

It’s night-time, and lamps cast warm flickering shadows over the stone walls of the inn’s dining room where Fai and his companions are seated, dinner kindly prepared by the capable hands of Arashi. Outside the kitchen windows, the summer night presses itself dark and balmy against the glass panes. Fai feels at peace. Perhaps he shouldn’t be, given the predicament they’re currently in, but as Fai’s said before, this situation ranks itself as merely an irritation on his family’s trouble scale, so Fai figures that he needn’t waste too much time worrying or even thinking about this. They’ll just deal with it when the time comes.  

‘Why didn’t you just send his ass packing where he stood is the question,’ Kurogane grumbles as he cracks open another shellfish with his fingers. ‘Having to show up tomorrow morning is going to be a whole waste of time. Maybe I’ll just cut them down where they stand.’ He grins ferally. 

Fai raps smartly at Kurogane’s knuckles with the spoon he had been using for soup, causing Kurogane to yelp slightly and glare in his direction. 

‘No cutting tomorrow morning, have you even been paying attention to what I’ve been saying?’ Fai scolds. ‘All we have to do tomorrow is show up and explain that we’re just travellers passing through, and that we don’t come from their lands, and things will be all fine! Kuro-papa must stop resorting to violence to solve everything.’

Beaten, Kurogane lapses into sullen silence, muttering darkly under his breath. Syaoran looks concerned. 

‘Should we still come up with a plan of action?’ He offers. ‘Just in case things don’t work out. I wouldn’t want either you or Kurogane to have to give up your earrings.’ 

Fai turns to Syaoran, surprised but touched. Reaching out, he fondly pats Syaoran’s head. ‘I think we’ll be quite alright, Syaoran. But thank you for your concern! Both Kuro-sama and I very much appreciate it.’ Turning, Fai grins unabashedly to Kurogane, who has been watching the moment with protective eyes. ‘Isn’t that right, Kuro-papa?’ 

Kurogane rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. He’s absentmindedly rubbing at his left arm, as if in thought. 

‘Well, just in case, Arashi and I will go down with you to the Office of Union tomorrow,’ Sorata decides. He glances at the group seated across from him at the table. ‘That is, if you’d like. You’d probably sound more believable if two locals vouched for you.’ 

‘That would be a big help, thank you,’ Syaoran says sincerely. 

Mokona takes advantage of the moment to hop down onto Kurogane’s plate and swipe the last of his shellfish pasta, making Kurogane yelp in outrage. Kurogane ducks to swipe at the offending round creature, teeth bared. His earring swings with the movement. 

Fai laughs, feels the weight of his own earring rest reassuringly at his side, and doesn’t worry at all.

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Fai shows up the next day bright and early with a disgruntled Kurogane, an earnest Syaoran, and an exuberant Mokona all in tow, the former first still opposed to the entire affair and the latter pair coming along because they wanted to. Arashi and Sorata lag behind, Sorata still shaking off the last dregs of sleep from waking up at an hour much earlier than he is used to, Arashi unruffled and placid despite it being the same for her. At least, that’s what Fai thinks, until Sorata points out that she’s accidentally worn her socks inside out. 

The Office of Union is a monument of social class and status that Fai, in the private confines of his own mind, thinks is wholly unnecessary and overly extravagant. A packed square of stone and marble situated at the top of a small hill, the overarching gate glints with inlaid mother-of-pearl and what looks to be painstakingly cut and polished crystal. 

As Fai and his companions pass the tall chiselled marble columns into the hall within, Kurogane groans. 

‘Oh, hell.’ 

For the people gathered and waiting in the Office are not only one or two, like Fai had expected, but rather a cluster of what seems to be an entire noble family, the oldest being a severe-looking matriarch with grey hair piled high into a bun and a deep purple dress buttoned to the throat, and the youngest a baby shy of a few months swaddled in warm white robes in the arms of its clucking mother. Fai sweeps his eyes quickly over the group, estimates there to be about twenty people in total, and paints a smile across his face even as inwardly he braces himself for a problem bigger than previously anticipated. Leading the forefront of this little brood of nobles stands Atsuya, wearing a suit of gold and navy along with an arrogant smile, next to an embarrassed-looking man of similar facial features and hair colouring that Fai can only assume is Atsuya’s brother and lord of the land.

Sorata and Arashi come forward to bow briefly to the man next to Atsuya, confirming Fai’s suspicions. ‘My lord Atsushi,’ they chorus. Politely, Fai and Syaoran bow as well, though they claim no allegiance by honorific. Kurogane, though disgruntled, inclines his head. 

‘Sorata, Arashi,’ Atsushi greets, smiling. ‘How has the inn been faring? I hope things are well.’ 

‘We are doing comfortably enough, my lord, thank you for the concern.’ Arashi responds.

‘That’s good to hear.’ Atsushi looks over their shoulders to where Fai and the others are standing. ‘Now, I believe you’ve brought along some guests?’ 

Atsushi brushes past Sorata and Arashi. Fai can feel Kurogane tense just slightly beside him, but Fai keeps himself loose and relaxed as Atsushi approaches. The lord comes to a stop in front of them, and smiles. 

‘It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Atsushi, the noble that rules over this land. I hope the townspeople have been treating you well.’ 

Fai beams. ‘Oh, wonderfully,’ he says. 

Syaoran hastens to add, ‘everybody has been very kind.’ 

Atsushi’s eyes flick backwards for a moment, in the direction of where his brother stands, and his smile grows apologetic. He leans forward slightly to murmur, low enough that it’s out of earshot of the group behind him. 

‘I am truly sorry for the entourage, and for the inconvenience my brother has caused.’ He has the grace to look embarrassed. ‘He insisted on our entire family showing up today, even though I told him repeatedly that as lord I was the only one whose presence is necessary for the proceeding.’ 

‘Why did he even bring along your entire family?’ Syaoran wonders.

Atsushi’s face creases. ‘He claims it’s for security, that having more witnesses means that you would be less inclined to be dishonest. For the record, I don’t think you two are lying at all,’ Atsushi hastens to tell them, mainly to Kurogane who has raised an eyebrow rather threateningly, ‘and as usual, my brother has probably… overreacted again, as he is prone to do. Once we’ve cleared things up with the Office, we can all go home. As an apology, I would love for you to stop by my manor as well, for dinner.’ Atsushi smiles encouragingly. 

‘Dinner sounds lovely!’ Fai claps his hands. ‘Thank you very much for your kind offer.’ 

‘If you’re quite done conversing, we should start events proper now,’ a snide voice interrupts them from behind, and Fai looks over Atsushi’s shoulder to see Atsuya coming up. ‘We haven’t got all day, after all.’ 

Fai hums. ‘You’re quite right, sir,’ he says, to Atsuya’s irritation, ‘so lead the way!’ 

Fai loops an arm around Kurogane’s forearm, and steps forward. Kurogane huffs, but goes along anyway. 

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Fai and Kurogane find themselves standing in front of a priest at an altar. The humour of the entire situation is not lost on Fai. 

The priest looks down over his records. ‘So you guys are travelers, correct?’ He drones. He seems even more disinterested in this whole affair than Kurogane is, which is really quite a feat considering that Kurogane might actually be asleep where he stands right now. Fai chances a glance at the taller man in question—Kurogane stands straight and attentive, his years of training as a soldier keeping him upright, but sure enough, Fai can see that his eyes are closed. It really is something if the priest hasn’t even bothered to mention this. 

‘Yes,’ Fai answers for the two of them. 

‘From where?’ 

Fai waves a hand vaguely. ‘From aways,’ he says. ‘Across the seas.’ 

The answer Fai just gave was possibly the most generic answer that could ever be given, but Fai’s not quite sure how to tactfully explain ‘we all came from different worlds in a multiverse, got thrown together through fate and manipulation and ended up staying together along the way’, and he hasn’t got enough information on this world to come up with a believable lie. But the priest merely nods and marks down something in his records before moving on. It seems that geography isn’t a developed field of study in this country. Maybe he could’ve lied and gotten away with it. Regardless, at the rate things are going, he and the others will be out of the Office of Union before the morning is even over. 

‘And how long have you been here in town?’ 

‘About two weeks or so?’

As Fai continues patiently answering the priest’s questions, he can’t help but glance back to where Atsushi and his family stand waiting. Arashi and Sorata stand respectfully to the side, and Syaoran is anxiously peering out from next to them, Mokona hanging on his shoulder. For the life of him Fai can’t figure out the necessity of having even just Atsushi at the scene, let alone the whole family being here as witnesses. Atsushi has not done anything except walk up to the priest and instruct him on what to do, surely he could have done this by dropping off a note or something similar to that effect? Must be a nobility formality thing. 

The priest makes a final note in the huge ledger in front of him, and nods. 

‘Well, according to our customs, since the two of you are travellers, there aren’t any problems. So long as you do not intend to settle on these lands long-term—’

‘We don’t,’ Fai confirms.

‘—Then you guys are free to carry on. Your earrings do not need to be confiscated, and you may continue your statuses as husband and husband.’ The priest moves to close the ledger. ‘And congratulations on the marriage,’ he adds on, politely. 

Fai beams. ‘Thank you!’ He says cheerily, already tugging on Kurogane’s arm and stepping away from the altar. 

‘Hold it.’ 

Fai bites back a groan as Atsuya strides forward from where he’d been standing, a look of displeasure evident on his face. Of course things could never be that simple. 

The noble rounds the altar to stand right next to the priest, which, Fai isn’t sure but thinks breaks at least a few rules, nobility or no. Atsuya taps the ledger imperiously. 

‘Review the rules again.’ 

‘Lord Atsuya?’ The priest asks, bewildered. 

‘Do I have to repeat myself?’ Atsuya asks, impatient. ‘Review. The rules. Again. You’ve missed out on an important step in this whole proceeding. Are you deliberately trying to bring shame onto your lord’s name?’ 

Atsushi steps forward. ‘Brother—’ 

Atsuya points a finger towards his brother. ‘Keep quiet and let me settle things for you. Clearly you’ve been more neglectful of your duties than you’ve realised if you let something like this slip you by.’ 

There are two spots of red high on Atsushi’s cheeks. Sorata looks outraged at the insinuated insult being directed towards his lord, but Atsushi’s family members were all similarly clucking their disapproval, shaking their heads in disappointment at Atsushi’s back, and so Atsushi could only subside and stand helpless as Atsuya took control of the situation. 

Haltingly, the priest flips the ledger open again, and begins to read off it. ‘Due to their status as travellers on our land—’ 

‘Ah-ah!’ Atsuya interrupts. ‘But is that really true?’ 

‘...What?’ Fai asks. Next to him, Kurogane has tensed. 

Atsuya runs a finger down the ledger page. He stops at a particular line, and reads it aloud. ‘“Foreign travellers passing through—so long as they have proven that they are travellers—are not beholden to the rules and customs of the land”.’

‘And we are travellers,’ Fai protests. ‘Like we said, we don’t intend to settle down here.’ 

The glare that Atsuya directs at them could’ve cut glass. ‘Just because you do not intend to settle down on this particular piece of land does not mean that you are foreign travellers,’ he snaps. ‘How are we to know that you are not from another province?’ 

‘Brother, please!’ An exasperated exclamation breaks out of Atsushi, who strides forward to stand between his brother and Fai. He gestures in Fai and Kurogane’s direction. ‘They’re clearly dressed in foreign clothing not of our country, and one of them even has black hair, which we know is not native to our nation! How is this even in question?’ 

‘They could’ve gotten the clothing from trading merchants,’ Atsuya shoots back. ‘And just because black hair is not native to our people does not mean that he is foreign—after all, do we not have immigrants that come from other lands? That innkeeper couple is already one prime example!’ Atsuya sweeps a hand towards the two people in question. ‘Besides, aren’t you the one constantly espousing the importance of opening our borders and welcoming those who come to our shores to “seek a better life”?’ 

Atsushi’s mouth snaps shut at that retort. Atsuya sneers in Kurogane’s direction. 

‘Who knows, maybe to throw us off he’s deliberately dyed his hair a different colour.’ Atsuya makes as if to reach out and actually grab Kurogane’s hair to check, but the glare the swordsman sends his way at the motion is so dark and dangerous that Atsuya instinctively snatches his hand back. ‘A-anyway, the point is, there is no proof.’ 

‘A matter that is easily resolved if we only ask the men in question.’ Atsushi turns to Fai and Kurogane. ‘Could the two of you show us proof of having come from beyond our lands?’ 

‘Uh.’ Fai pauses. ‘What would you consider definitive proof?’ 

A concerned frown creases Atsushi’s brow. ‘Documentation of your citizenship from another country,’ Atsushi says, slowly, ‘for example.’ 

‘Our country doesn’t provide that.’ This time it’s Kurogane who speaks. The short clipped tone of his voice leaves no room for argument. 

‘How awfully convenient,’ Atsuya rolls his eyes. 

‘ Many countries don’t provide official documentation for their citizens,’ Atsushi says, narrowing his eyes at his brother. 

Atsuya holds up his hands in supposed acceptance, though his face conveys just how much he doesn’t buy that explanation. ‘I merely think, brother, that you are being much too lenient on these people who claim that they are foreigners without being able to produce a single shred of evidence for it. If you’re unable to manage the disciplining of just two measly people in your domain, how will you oversee the livelihoods of an entire group of people?’ 

There are so many gaps in Atsuya’s logic that Fai doesn’t even know where to begin. Though he doubts that him pointing out the flaws in the stuck-up noble’s arguments is going to earn him any favours right now—and therein lies the problem. He’s damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t, and Fai can’t conjure up a way for him and Kurogane to get out of this mess without doing something drastic like knocking all the nobles out and making a run for it. And he can’t even do that, because doing so would land Sorata and Arashi in trouble when they had already been so kind as to let them stay at their inn for free in the time that they are here. Fai wishes, suddenly and desperately, that he had taken up Syaoran’s advice from last night to come up with a plan, because things are looking to go south pretty quickly if they don’t get it under control soon. This all without even mentioning how Kurogane might react. 

Fai chances a glance to his side. Kurogane’s face has smoothed out into an impenetrable mask of stone, but Fai, attuned to Kurogane’s behaviours and idiosyncrasies the way he is, can still read the fury and indignation rumbling slow and steady beneath the taller man’s skin. Though Kurogane hasn’t done anything, Fai notes how Kurogane’s left arm has drifted closer to his sword Ginryuu at his side, so that the crook of that prosthetic arm is resting carefully on the hilt. It looks innocuous, but Fai knows better. He turns back to face the altar.

‘No cutting anyone, Kuro-sama, you promised,’ Fai murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. 

‘You tell me, then, how we’re going to get out of this situation,’ Kurogane says back, voice pitched equally as low so as to not draw the nobles or priest’s attention. 

Even in this situation Fai manages a lopsided grin. But Kurogane’s sudden sharp gaze on him only means that he isn’t convincing. ‘We’ll manage somehow,’ Fai says. ‘If it comes down to it I guess we should—’ Fai licks his lips, ‘—I guess we could give up the earrings. Temporarily.’ 

‘Temporarily?’

‘Obviously we’ll sneak back into this place and steal them back before we have to leave this world, Kuro-sama! ...Unless you don’t want to?’ 

‘Don’t be stupid.’ Kurogane’s comeback is immediate and resolute, which eases nerves Fai didn’t even realise he had. Old instincts die hard, in the end, no matter how much love is proven many times over. Fai might face the legacy of that love everyday, in the early dawnings of the morning to the deep shadows of the night, when Kurogane rises or goes to sleep and the gears in his metal prosthetic arm grind and creak like the bones they have replaced, but still sometimes Fai doubts himself. Somewhere, deep inside of him, there is always going to be that thin-starved boy who believed irrevocably in the inherent damnation of his existence, and not even blood and bone, sacrificed in conviction of the value of his life, can whittle away that boy completely. Fai isn’t even sure if he wants him to be. That boy was as much a part of him as the man he is now, and on the nights where Fai can’t quite remember that, he sleeps curled up on the left side of Kurogane instead, fingers threaded through with the swordsman’s so that he can feel the reassuring thrum of circuitry. No matter the size of the bed or Kurogane’s muttered complaints of crampedness, Kurogane has never once let go. Fai has always loved that about him. 

‘Things’ll be just fine, Kuro-tan, don’t you worry,’ Fai says, and manages to almost believe it this time. But his hand goes up to worry at the clasp of his earring, regardless. Kurogane assesses that movement with eyes sharp as an eagle’s.

Fai’s unconscious action finally draws the attention of Atsuya, who had for the better part of ten minutes been ignoring the two men in question. ‘You there,’ he barks, as though Fai is not standing less than three metres away from him. ‘Step up.’ 

Fai raises an eyebrow quizzically, but nevertheless does as what Atsuya requested. ‘Yes?’ 

‘Can you and your supposed husband provide any proof at all that you guys are foreign travellers who do not come from our lands?’ Atsuya asks. 

‘None that I can provide right now, no,’ Fai answers honestly. 

Syaoran steps forward from the back. ‘However, if you would permit us to go back to the inn, we might be able to find something among our belongings that could—’ 

‘And give the three of you the opportunity to forge something and trick us all? Not a chance,’ Atsuya retorts. 

The look of plain frustration on Syaoran’s face makes Fai’s heart ache. 

‘If I may offer a suggestion, Lord Atsuya,’ Arashi says, suddenly, moving forward to stand next to Syaoran. The entire room’s focus shifts to her. 

‘Perhaps proof of their status need not be shown through physical objects? If they are able to sufficiently answer questions about their place of origin, I believe that could serve as sufficient evidence.’ 

Atsuya narrows his eyes with suspicion. ‘And how would we know they aren’t lying?’ 

‘Of course there would be no guarantee, but surely your lordship would be clever and perceptive enough to spot a liar.’ 

Coming out of anybody else this sentence would’ve sounded impudent, but the serious and dark-eyed Arashi gave no hint of derision. Behind her, Sorata has his head bowed, presumably in a show of deference to his partner’s judgment—but the slight shaking of his shoulders tells Fai that the man is merely trying not to give Arashi away from his silent laughter. 

Predictably, Atsuya preens under the compliment. ‘Very well.’ He turns back to Fai and Kurogane, as Arashi bows and retreats back to stand at Sorata’s side. There’s only the slightest of smiles playing on the corners of her mouth. ‘You. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and if you’re able to answer them satisfactorily, I’ll perhaps consider letting you go.’ 

Fai smiles, hiding his relief. ‘Alright,’ he agrees. Talking? Talking, he can do. 

What follows next is a series of rapid-fire questions from Atsuya about where they’ve come from, the cultures and features of said land of origin, how they’ve met and how long they’ve been travelling together and questions to that effect. Fai, for the most part, sticks mostly to the features of Clow when describing their alleged homeland, using whatever he has picked up about Syaoran’s country from the things Syaoran has told them and the little books Fai has read, though he does throw in a few details from Kurogane’s country whenever he finds fit. He leaves his own country unmentioned, however, not because of any lack of desire to acknowledge it but because that country had collapsed into itself ages ago, and out of respect Fai does not intend to unbury the dead. 

Fai has always had a silver tongue, and his ability to spin and crystallise answers out of thin air has not diminished, even if he has little to no reason to lie and tell stories about himself anymore the way he had to in the past. The ease through which Fai answers the questions starts to annoy Atsuya. The questions start coming faster, as though Atsuya thinks that if he manages to catch Fai tripping up he might be able to proclaim them guilty, but Fai has had experience dealing with things bigger and more devastating than some petty provincial noble, so he barely even bats an eye. 

‘How long have you and your husband been married?’ 

But a question like that actually brings Fai to a halt, as automatically his brain tries to calculate precisely how long it would have been. Time has the tendency to flow differently between worlds, so what could’ve been a week in one universe could have been merely half a day in another. Fai and Kurogane have both long since given up trying to calculate the precise time they have been travelling together, opting instead to take each day as it comes, but Fai knows that Syaoran has been earnestly keeping track of each world’s time and recalculating it back to a rough equivalence to Clow, so that he would know how much time has passed between the time he last saw Sakura and the next. Even taking it as-is, however, there are some worlds they have been in where they don’t really have the luxury of keeping track of time, so in all honesty Fai isn’t sure if they’ve been “married” for six months or eight—

‘Hah!’ Atsuya’s crow jerks Fai back into reality, and immediately Fai could hit himself. He could’ve just thrown out any number, the closest approximation of a number would have been fine, why did he take the time to try and calculate the precise time? It’s hideously ironic that it’s Fai’s sense of honesty that is going to get him into trouble for allegedly lying, now.

‘Please, Lord Atsuya, I was merely trying to ascertain—’ Fai starts, but Atsuya cuts him off. 

‘No need for your excuses, commoner, I’ve gotten all the information I need to know,’ Atsuya says triumphantly. Fai, helpless, glances back in a plea, but not even Arashi or Syaoran has a way out for Fai now—the plausible deniability of Atsuya’s belief means that Fai can’t talk his way out of this one anymore, not when Atsuya is so fervently convinced of Fai’s inherent guilt. 

Atsuya turns to the priest. (Somewhere in the back of Fai’s mind, he spares a moment to give sympathy to the poor priest, who is beginning to look rather harassed in the middle of it all.) ‘If the supposed “foreign travellers” are unable to give proof that they are not from these lands, that means they can’t be considered travellers at all, yes?’ 

‘Well, technically, yes—’ 

‘And if they can’t be considered travellers, they are subject to the same rules as the citizens of this country, yes?’ 

‘Er, that’s true, yes, but—’ 

‘And since they are commoners, with no way to pay for the price of marriage in this country, then they have no right to wear the symbol of marriage in their ears, yes?’ Atsuya presses the priest, who is looking both overwhelmed and trapped, his eyes darting from Atsuya to Fai and Kurogane as though looking for help somewhere, anywhere. Fai deeply sympathises, but considering he’s the one about to get dropped into hot water, he isn’t up to doing much saving any time soon. 

‘...Yes, that is correct, Lord Atsuya.’ The priest says, finally, and Fai hears those words like a stone dropping down in his chest. 

Atsuya twists back to look at Fai and Kurogane, smug. ‘Well, you’ve heard him.’ 

Atsuya extends one bejewelled hand. 

‘...Pardon?’ Fai asks, after a long, difficult moment. His brain is having trouble processing. 

‘Your earring,’ Atsuya says. His gaze flicks over Fai’s shoulder to Kurogane, as if to say, you too. ‘With no rights to claiming marriage status, you are hereby disallowed from wearing those earrings, and must hand them over to the Office of Union. Unless you are able to show some kind of proof of having paid the price of marriage in this country,’ Atsuya smirks, ‘which you commoners undoubtedly have not.’  

Fai stares hard at the outstretched palm in front of him, his heart thudding. 

In the grand scheme of things, this is really just such a small thing—it’s just a single earring. It’s not as if he would be giving it up forever. Fai tries to console himself with this fact, that they can and probably will break into the Office to steal back the earrings, and that it probably won’t be any trouble at all—but still, somehow. Somehow. It’s only been a few months, at best, but already Fai can’t imagine not having the tiny weight of the earring by the side of his face, the same way he can’t imagine not being by Kurogane’s side. It’s less about sentimentality and more about certainty; that, in exchange for the worlds they have crumbled and the flesh they’ve exchanged, they have built for themselves a place with each other piece by painful piece. Both Kurogane and Fai don’t have to prove this to anyone. The earring is only a small drop in the vast ocean of their history, in that sense. But it’s still a drop, and some part of Fai loathes to part with it even temporarily.

Fai’s eyes dart about, searching for a way out. But even as Fai does so, he knows that the simplest and most efficient method would be to give up for now, and think up a plan later. Atsuya’s palm lay waiting. With heavy, clumsy fingers, Fai reaches up to the clasp at his ear. 

Atsushi, upon seeing the expression on Fai’s face, reaches out. ‘Wait a mi—’ 

‘Wait.’ 

Both Atsushi and Fai whip their heads around to see Kurogane stepping forward, an unreadable expression on his face. 

‘Yes?’ Atsuya asks, impatient. ‘What is it? Don’t waste my time, commoner—unless you have some proof of the price you’ve paid for marriage, don’t speak.’ 

‘I have it.’ 

‘What?’

‘Proof.’ 

Kurogane starts rolling up his left sleeve, and instantly Fai understands what he’s doing. ‘Kuro-sama—’ 

Atsuya furrows his brows, confused. ‘What do you mea—’ 

Without ceremony, Kurogane pulls his left arm free from his shoulder joint.  

The ensuing chaos from the viewing entourage takes a long time to settle down. 

Arashi and Sorata both look incredibly shocked. Arashi has one hand covering her mouth, and Sorata is openly gawking as Kurogane holds up his arm towards the altar as if presenting an offering. The matriarch standing to the left of Sorata and Arashi looks about three seconds away from a dead faint, while the mother of the burbling baby is clutching the child close to her chest in horror. Next to Kurogane, Atsushi, to his credit, has no outward reaction, though he does look faintly nauseated as Kurogane drops his arm onto the altar. 

Atsuya rears away from the arm as though it might snap up and throttle him at any moment, face grey and legs shaking. The priest, though trembling, leans forward to take a look, as though morbidly fascinated. 

‘That was my price.’ 

The priest blinks up at Kurogane in puzzlement. ‘...Your price?’ 

Kurogane nods at his arm. ‘My price. That arm. Ages ago, I gave up that arm in exchange for that—’ Kurogane jerks a head back in Fai’s direction, ‘man’s life.’ 

'What?’

‘I cut it off myself.’ Kurogane’s gaze never once leaves the priest’s, and the veracity of his statement could not be denied. The simplicity with which he states such an immense sacrifice seems to stun the looking entourage. ‘With this, regardless of whether we’re travellers or not, we’re considered married, right? I’ve been told that the old way of marriage, by “sacrifice” or whatever, is still allowed in this country.’  

‘I don’t believe you!’ Atsuya shrieks.

Kurogane turns to the noble, who quails under the intense fire of the swordsman’s gaze. ‘You don’t believe what? That I have the ability and conviction to cut off an arm? I can demonstrate that to you, if you’d like.’ Kurogane’s right hand moves towards his sword, and an inch of steel springs clear. Kurogane shifts his stance, and the movement makes his earring swing—the gold of it gleaming unflinching in the light. 

Atsuya all but trips over his own feet in his haste to get away from the swordsman. Despite that all, however, he still has the guts to speak. Fai would almost admire him for his courage if he isn’t so worried that Kurogane might actually cut Atsuya’s arm off. ‘No, you impudent madman, I don’t believe that you cut your arm off for that man!’ The noble yells. He points a finger furiously in the swordsman’s direction, and Fai reaches out instinctively to hold onto the back of Kurogane’s clothes to remind him not to do anything violent. ‘Why would you need to cut off your arm for this man, even? Clearly you are a lying, thieving commoner who should be carted off to jail for threatening my life, and—’ 

‘That is enough!’ 

Atsushi’s voice cuts through his brother’s babble like the swing of a blade. 

‘This entire situation ends now,’ Atsushi says, coming forward. The usual patience found on his face is gone, wiped clean by the surging irritation that he makes no attempt to hide as he rounds on his brother. ‘I have had enough of your so-called attempts to “help” me manage my affairs, manage my lands, and it’s become clear to me that all you are doing is trying to antagonise these men about a status that they have rightfully earned.’ 

Atsuya protests. ‘You have no way of knowing for sure—’ 

‘And for what reason do they have to lie?’ Atsushi asks archly. ‘Do they exist merely for our entertainment? Of course, a man does not have an entire arm solely because he intends to deceive us, in order to wear a single piece of gold in his ear. Do you hear yourself, brother? Do you hear how you sound?’ 

‘But—’  

‘These men,’ Atsushi interrupts, ‘—have stood here before the priest, coming in at an early hour at your request and your threat, and have patiently attempted to answer to your every nitpick and disagreement for the past few hours. You say we have no proof that they aren’t travellers, fine—then with this man’s display, they have more than surpassed the requirement to be considered “married” in our lands. And if they are travellers, then they aren’t beholden to our customs in the first place and you just made someone pull his own arm from his sockets for nothing!’ 

Atsuya flinches at how Atsushi’s voice rises in the last sentence. 

‘...You will go against your own brother for the sake of two measly travellers?’ Atsuya asks, finally. His voice is small, but still defiant. 

‘No.’ Atsushi sweeps forward to stand towering over his brother. 

‘I will go against my own brother for attempting to overstep his position and usurp my authority as lord of these lands, beloved blood family or no.’ 

Atsuya visibly shrinks. 

‘You are done here, Atsuya,’ Atsushi says. ‘It is my opinion that matters here, and I say—’ Atsushi turns towards where Fai and Kurogane have been standing watching the entire exchange, ‘that these two men are in their right, and are allowed to keep their earrings as symbols of their marriage.’ 

Atsushi smiles at them, and Fai feels a weight lift from his chest. Kurogane sheaths his sword. 

‘Hmph. Could’ve spoken up earlier, things would’ve been resolved a lot faster,’ Kurogane mutters under his breath. Fai very quietly pinches him. 

‘Thank you, Lord Atsushi, for your understanding,’ Fai says, bowing his head.    

Atsushi holds up a hand. ‘Please, don’t thank me. I should’ve spoken up much sooner.’ Atsushi doesn’t look at Kurogane as he says this, but Fai pinches Kurogane a second time anyway, as an admonishment. 

Atsushi moves to face his family. ‘As for the rest of you—please, head back to my castle .’ Atsushi sounds polite, but the directive of his tone is clear, and it doesn’t seem like much of his family is inclined towards staying much longer anyway, with how they are still fearfully eyeing the arm laid across the priest’s altar. The circuit connectors at the end of it wriggle as if alive; the priest flicks at them with his quill, a sickened look on his face. ‘I will go to speak with you once I have finished things here. I would like a word with all of you regarding today’s conduct, and how we should best proceed in the future.’ Atsushi’s face darkens as he says this, and his family shivers at the presence of the lord in front of them. 

As Atsushi’s family starts slowly shuffling out of the Office of Union (Atsuya attempts to leave with some semblance of grace, but personally Fai doesn’t think he succeeds), Atsushi walks over to the priest to exchange a few words with him. Syaoran doesn’t waste time in hurrying over to where Fai and Kurogane are, frantically asking if they’re okay. Mokona jumps onto Kurogane’s shoulder and asks him if his left arm hurts. Arashi and Sorata have millions of questions. 

A polite throat-clearing noise pulls Fai from the clamour of his family and the innkeeper couple. He turns to see Atsushi standing next to the altar. 

‘Unfortunately, we do still have a few more administrative matters to finish before I can let you go back for the day,’ Atsushi says politely. ‘But first—’ 

Atsushi eyes Kurogane’s left arm, limp across the altar. 

‘Would you like to have that back?’ 

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On that same day, later that night, Fai and Kurogane curl up together on the same bed in the darkened confines of their inn room, Fai lying on his side on Kurogane’s left. 

‘Are you sure that it doesn’t hurt?’ Fai checks again, just to be sure, his hands fluttering over the juncture where flesh and machinery meet. 

Kurogane snorts. He tips his head away from staring at the ceiling to look at Fai. ‘No, it doesn’t. Quit worrying, will you? I’ve told you, the arm detaches and reattaches quite easily so long as I will it.’ 

‘...Even if you tell me that,’ Fai murmurs, ‘I’ll still worry.’ 

Kurogane is silent for a moment. But then he turns himself over to face Fai. Within the narrow width of the bed, there isn’t much room, so they’re nose to nose with their legs tangled together and jostling for space. Kurogane weaves the fingers of his left hand through Fai’s right, and doesn’t let go. 

‘I can handle myself,’ he says, frank but not unkind. ‘The same way that you can handle yourself. Same with the kid, and even same with the white pork bun. It’s how things have always been. There’s no need to waste headspace fretting over me.’ 

Fai squeezes the swordsman’s hand in response. ‘I don’t worry because I think you’re incapable of handling yourself,’ he says. ‘I worry because people will always worry about those they love.’ 

In the gloom Kurogane’s eyes flash like two points of flame in the dark. His earring lies nestled against the edge of his jaw; it catches the moonlight striping in from the lone window at the head of the bed, and Fai looks at how that almost turns the gold to a bluish-tinged silver. He reaches out with his left hand, and touches the side of Kurogane’s face, brushing his fingers over smooth metal and warm skin. Kurogane closes his eyes, and leans into the touch. 

‘Back at the Office,’ Fai says. 

‘Hm.’

‘Why did you wait so long before revealing you had sacrificed your arm for me?’ Fai asks. ‘If that had been a solution you’ve thought of long before.’ 

Fai remembers shellfish pasta and sitting at a dinner table last night, remembers seeing Kurogane rub at his left arm contemplatively when Syaoran suggested a back-up plan. The action hadn’t made sense to Fai back then, but Fai gets it now. 

Kurogane opens one eye. 

‘Our past isn’t anybody’s business but ours,’ Kurogane says, as Fai moves his thumb back and forth along the lines underneath Kurogane’s eye. Fai huffs a quiet laugh at the almost petulant tone in Kurogane’s voice. ‘I didn’t want to have to tell it to anybody who didn’t need to know. It’s true that I’d thought of the idea last night, but I almost immediately discarded it afterwards.’ 

‘Then, Kuro-sama, why…?’

‘Because you didn’t want to part with the earrings.’ And Kurogane makes it sound so simple. ‘And so I made a choice.’ 

Kurogane made a choice, and he chose Fai. Just like he had chosen Fai, back when he decided that he would rather lose an arm than see him die alone and trapped within the boundaries of a collapsing universe, and every other choice he has made since then, through the worlds they have been in and the lives they have witnessed and the people they have chosen to save. It’s how their relationship has been built, piece by piece or drop by drop until it accumulates to form, this thing they have between them now that allows them to share space as close as breathing while they trade honest conversation and self-indulgent laughter. 

The point is not that Kurogane will always choose Fai, even above all else. The point is that Kurogane will always choose Fai, because they have worked to bone and sacrificed to exhaustion to be able to walk together as they can now; grinded at each other’s tensions and pushed and pulled at each other’s edges through the slow and difficult way of learning, until every choice that either he or Kurogane makes can only offer them the chance of moving closer together, even as they go forward in their own individual lives on their own two feet. A possibility is not a guarantee, and Fai is never going to be foolish enough to believe that it is, but Fai thinks that so long as he is continually offered that opportunity, he is going to choose to walk alongside Kurogane, Syaoran, Mokona, his family—over and over again.

And looking into Kurogane’s eyes, Fai knows that Kurogane is choosing the same thing. 

Fai smiles, then, and it’s a small, soft thing. Another drop into the ocean, another belief in a possibility. Fai looks at the man lying across from him, looks at his stern mouth and his thin brows and his sharp-eyed gaze, and loves him. 

‘Well,’ Fai can only say, lightly. He dips his head, and presses a kiss onto the back of Kurogane’s hand. And Kurogane doesn’t let go. ‘If that’s the case, then thank you for choosing me.’ 

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