Archive of Our Own

Shion wakes up to shouts coming from above. He must have fallen asleep reading, trying to decipher some of the most obscure passages of the book that could solve all his problems. Or at least, most of them.

The sixteen years he spent living in the Blessings didn’t prepare him for any kind of violent confrontation. He would like to think that what came after had hardened him —life in the Pious Ward wasn’t easy— and yes, in some ways it had, but nothing could really prepare him to hear Rikiga’s muffled voice coming from the main deck, shouting “PIRATES!”. 

His mind halts to a stop.  

This wasn’t supposed to go this way.

The small storage room he is cramped in has some barrels and crates that could provide a good hiding spot, he thinks as he looks around. But to what end? What if they find him anyway? 

Standing up, at least, seems like a good place to start. He picks up the book and holds it against his chest, right before he hears footsteps approaching.

"I'll take this one," shouts a voice he doesn’t recognize. Then a woman walks into the room.

The first thing he notices is the sword she holds in one hand; the second, the ridiculous feathered hat that obscures her face. The poor light in the room, coming from a lonely candle on the table doesn’t help. "A scared little mouse!", she says, bringing him out of his stupor. "Everyone's on the main deck, darling, you're missing out. Follow me outside and don’t try anything funny.”

Shion speaks before his brain can process the words.

“Like what? You’re the one with the sword.”

A brief look of surprise is quickly replaced it with a sharp smile. “You’re right about that, which is an even better reason for you to do as I say. Come, we have business up there.” 

Shion forces himself to walk towards her, slowly, even though all his instincts scream at him to get away .

Then, he passes right in front of the candlelight. 

And the woman freezes.

The moment lasts only a heartbeat. In an instant, she lifts her sword until the point almost grazes Shion’s chin. 

“Wait,” she says, and there is a strange change in her voice. “What’s your name?”

He swallows, staring down at the blade. 

“Shion,” he answers, not expecting the woman to curse under her breath, sword dropping to her side as she rubs her forehead with her free hand. 

“This is just my luck.”

“I’m sorry? Did I—do something?”

“ Plenty ,” she drawls as she points the sword at Shion again, with considerably less enthusiasm this time. “I’m looking for a certain book. Nondescript, written in Laidoan. Would it happen to be what you’re holding right now?”

Shion instinctively hugs the book tighter to his chest. 

That is all the answer she needs.

“Great! This is—great. Excellent,” she continues with fake cheer. “I’m assuming you know Laidoan? Of course you do, that was a stupid question. Now—”  She takes a step to the side, making a grand gesture with her sword towards the open door. “You’ll get out and go directly to the deck, understand?” 

Shion doesn’t know how he gets his legs to move. He’s scared, but somehow, he walks past the entrance, down the narrow hallway and up the steps to the deck. Once he reaches the top, he sees the crew. They are all kneeling down on a line, their hands behind their backs, surrounded by an armed group of strangers. All except Rikiga, who’s lying on his side and holding his arm close to his chest. His hand is stained red with blood. Drazh, his first mate, is in a similar condition on the other end of the line. 

“Rikiga!” Shion calls, his body moving towards him before he can even think. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” says the woman behind him. He feels something cold and pointy against the back of his neck.

“But he’s hurt! He’s—”

“Nothing vital. He’ll be fine, little mouse.” There’s a pause. Shion stays very still, distantly noticing how his breathing is coming raggedly and his chest feels tight. “Go to him, but behave .” 

Shion doesn’t need to be told twice. He almost trips the few steps that take him to Rikiga. He kneels by his side, never letting go of the book. “Rikiga, are you—?”

“Fine, Shion.” Rikiga winces and looks toward him. “Fucking pirates. They never get close to this route, I didn’t think—”

An individual he doesn’t recognize comes up from the stairs that lead to the crew’s quarters. “Nothing there, Eve,” he says to her. “The usual.”

She nods and sheaths her sword in a clean movement. At first glance, she doesn’t look particularly strong or remarkable. Shion could immediately point out at least three others that look like the personified version of the evil pirates that show up in cautionary tales. But the woman projects an unmistakable air of confidence and command.

 “Well, my friends, we find each other in an uncomfortable situation. See, I never meant to hurt any of you, but seeing as you were so rude when we approached, it couldn’t be helped,” she says with ease. Under the light of the sun Shion can finally make out her sharp features and dark blue hair—something in the back of his mind stirs, but he’s too worried to pay attention. “As I very cordially tried to tell you before, I came here to pick up something I’ve been looking for. Now, I have to be fair to my crew and to the dedication they have put in supporting my efforts today, so they will be taking any of your belongings they find of their liking. We’ll leave you with enough provisions to last until you reach the closest port.”

Rikiga tenses by his side and Shion can hear him mutter curses under his breath. The woman—Eve, looks towards them and her mouth tilts in something that’s close, but not quite, a smile. 

The minutes after that seem to stretch indefinitely. Eve orders someone from Rikiga’s crew to show two of her comrades to the cargo hold. Shion doesn’t know how long they take, but after that they make a few trips carrying provisions to the upper deck and then to the ship that’s stationed right next to theirs. Rikiga is almost shaking with anger by his side. 

“We thank you for your collaboration,” she says after all is done, taking a graceful bow that’s way too deep to be taken as anything but an insult. “I only need one thing before we leave you to your journey.” 

And then she points at him. 

Of course she does.

Shion stiffens, feeling suffocated both by the sun shining above and by her keen gaze. “Little mouse, come forward.”

His legs feel numb after being in the same position for so long, causing him to almost stumble once he gets to his feet. Rikiga mutters something but his heart is beating so loud in his ears he fails to hear him. 

He does as she asked, approaching but keeping what he thinks is a safe distance while gripping the book so hard his fingers hurt.

“You seem very attached to it,” Eve says, eyes darting to his hands. Her voice is suddenly quiet, almost a whisper. 

“It’s important to me.”

“You have studied it.” 

It’s not a question. She mutters the words with unwavering certainty, but Shion nods anyway. 

There’s a moment of silence and then many things seem to happen at once. Eve grabs his arm and drags him to her side, announcing they’ll be taking Shion back to their ship. Rikiga tries to stand, shouting at her to let him go, now , and Shion tries and fails to go to him when one of the pirates unsheaths his sword in a silent  threat. 

“Colin, don’t,” she calls out. 

The pirate stops on his tracks immediately. 

Rikiga manages to stand, eyes narrowed. “Why the hell would you take him? He knows shit about sailing and it’s only going to be another mouth to feed. Just take the damn book and leave us be.” 

She grips his arm a little tighter and Shion is sure that would register as painful in any other circumstance.

“Rikiga, is alright. It’s—your arm, please, Rikiga. I’ll…” he pleads, feeling his words tangle like vines as they leave his mouth.  

Eve doesn’t let him continue.  “We’re in need of another carpenter” she says pointing at Rikiga’s arm, “I can deal with that in a few minutes. If you care so much about the little mouse, come with us.”

Shion doesn’t know what he’s expecting but Rikiga’s agreement is certainly not it. There’s defiance in his voice, and Shion is both thankful and terrified for him. 

She gives Rikiga time to talk with his crew, and they both get a chance to pick up a few of their things under the watch of one of Eve’s comrades. 

Crossing the gangplank to the other ship doesn’t feel real. They’re guided below decks to the cargo hold and a woman they didn’t see before comes to treat the wound on Rikiga’s arm. 

A pair of wooden crates in a poorly lit corner is where they’re told to wait, and Shion can feel his stomach drop when the ship starts moving. A few individuals come and go, carrying the supplies they took from Rikiga’s ship. 

Only when they’re alone again, Rikiga speaks.

“Shit, Shion, I never thought we would ran into fucking pirates. They never wander around this route, not that I know of. Here’s supposed to be safe, there’s usually patrols from port Daahl, what’s your mother gonna say—”

“You had no way of knowing,” he says. “And my mom doesn’t even know I’m here, Rikiga,” he reminds him, trying not to let that thought weigh him down. Despite the four years that have gone by since he last talked to his mother, no part of him has come to accept that. 

It’s the main reason behind his decision to go into this journey. 

“But eventually she will. I just don’t like the idea of Karan finding out her son got kidnapped by pirates when he was under my watch,” Rikiga insists; but he must see something in Shion’s face right then, because his voice loses some of his edge after that. “Don’t go losing hope on me now, Shion, you still have the book in your hands after all.”

Shion sighs. He’s right about that. 

“Tell me if you need something for the pain. I brought a few things that can help with that,” he says.

Rikiga shakes his head. “I won’t be drinking any weird tea with shit-smelling flowers.”

That makes Shion smile. 

It feels weird, like his muscles forgot that’s something he can do. 

“It’s not that bad. I can mix it with something else to help with the smell and the taste.”

“When we were young, your mother said something like that to help with a hangover and I shouldn’t have believed her,” he grumbles, squinting his eyes.

“Well, this certainly isn’t the same, and mom was still learning back then, I’m sure.”

Rikiga lets out a small chuckle. “Still learning? By then she was already the best herbalist around, stealing patients from the local physician. Wonder why she didn’t follow up on that path.”

Shion shrugs. He doesn’t have an answer for that.

“Oi, did you bring the thing that helps you sleep?” Rikiga asks, inspecting the bandages on his arm. 

“Azahal. Yes, it’s with all the other supplies.” 

“Good, good.”

Rikiga looks like he’s about to say something else when they hear footsteps coming down the stairs. He doesn’t recognize the person that approaches; they definitely weren’t among the crew that boarded Rikiga’s ship. 

“Shion,” they say, “the captain wants to see you. Bring the book,” and without another word they turn around and leave. Shion stays sitting there, frozen for a second until Rikiga pats his shoulder and mutters a quiet ‘ go ’.

So he follows them, trying to ignore the stares he can feel on the back of his neck. The person guiding him stops in front of what can only be the access to the captain’s cabin, they open the door and unceremoniously push Shion inside. 

He stumbles as the door is closed behind him. 

The room has enough space to fit a nice bed on the far end and a desk in the middle. There are windows that illuminate the space with warm sunlight, sending slanted beams of light that  hit the dark wood of the floorboards. 

He doesn’t let his eyes wander for long. 

Eve is standing next to the desk, fingers drumming on top of it. Now that she isn’t wearing that ridiculous hat and there’s no imminent threat of death, he lets himself really see her. 

And it knocks the breath out of him. 

Her eyes , they’re just like—

But it can’t be.

Then, Eve’s shoulders drop slightly and she waves a hand in the air, her fingers dancing in a pattern that’s too precise to be casual. With a final flick of her wrist, her image shimmers like a mirage, shifting and blurring. Shion resists the urge to rub at his eyes but can’t help taking a step back.

It takes less than a second. Her hair shortens and changes to a lighter hue, her coat and clothes stay the same, only shifting from a deep purple to a plain black with no ornaments. Her features turn a bit more pronounced; pointed jawline, high cheeks and thinner lips. 

Same eyes. 

They are like a storm , Shion had told him, over four years ago. 

“You—” he chokes on the words, eyes scanning his face. It’s him , there’s no doubt about it. He looks older, of course. Taller and sharper, somehow. A far cry from the boy he kept hidden in the Golden Library’s basement for weeks, back when he still could walk the streets of the Blessings freely.   

“Shion—”

“How did you—? Are you…” 

He halts, struggling to remember what he wanted to ask. 

Nezumi— Nezumi walks around the desk and rests his arms on the back of the tall chair. Shion feels something hot and ugly bubbling up in his chest.

The ship must be veering to the east, because the sunbeams dance across the room, changing their position. One of them lands on the side of Nezumi’s neck, shining on the strands of hair that fall freely from his ponytail. 

The part of Shion’s brain that got over the initial surprise thinks ‘ beautiful’ , and it’s really not fair, not with the hurt and the anger eating him up from the inside.

“If you want to know how I did, here’s the answer,” Nezumi says, pointing at a couple of parchments rolled on top of the table. “I’ve learned a few more tricks since we last saw each other.”

“I don’t care about your tricks!” he spits out, unable to keep his voice level. “For the Gods above, why didn’t you say anything? I thought someone was going to die —” He takes a sharp intake of breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He remembers the fear, acutely, like a sickness spreading in his veins. “And you hurt Rikiga, my friend, and Drazh, and they only got into this for me and now—”

“I did not mean them any harm,” Nezumi says firmly, his fingers tightening on the back of the chair. “But they retaliated, and my crew has the right—”

“Oh, shup up ,” Shion cuts in. “They retaliated? You are pirates that boarded their ship ! Of course they’d retaliate, in what world that wouldn’t happen?” He holds onto the book tightly with one hand and clenches the other in a fist to keep it from trembling. “What are you doing , Nezumi?”

Nezumi’s eyes scan his face quickly before dropping to his side.

“Looking for that,” he says, pointing at the book.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but that’s all you’re going to get.”

“But, really? A pirate? Nezumi—”

“I will save us both time by telling you that the judgement of a pampered kid from the Blessings has no value on my ship,” he interrupts, and Shion recognizes the steel behind his words. 

It seems the years have only served to fortify it. 

Still, that’s not fair . 

“I haven’t lived in the Blessings for a while now.”

“I know.”

He’s stunned into silence for a moment, feeling strangely cold. Like someone submerged his bones in a frozen lake.

“How?” he asks, after a few beats. 

Nezumi looks down at the desk, eyes shifting briefly towards the rolled parchments, but he says nothing.

Shion feels nauseous. 

“Why do you want this?” he manages to ask, lifting the book.

“Nothing of your concern, Shion.”

He nods. There are still words burning his throat, but there are also tears threatening to fall from the corners of his eyes and he feels like all the anger has left him hollow and aching. 

So he says nothing, turns around and walks to the door.

“Where are you going?” Nezumi’s voice rings with sudden surprise.

“To see Rikiga,” he answers, reaching for the handle. “He needs healing.”

And then he leaves. 

Nezumi doesn’t try to stop him. 

Shion ignores the stares he gets as he descends to the cargo hold. Rikiga is exactly where he left him and the relief is visible on his face when he sees him arrive. Shion drops down on the wooden crate next to him and only realizes there are tears streaming down his face when Rikiga calls his name worriedly and threatens to go kill Eve right that second. 

Shion feels like he should explain.

Rikiga has helped him so much, he deserves to know.

So he tries, as best as he can, wiping away the angry tears and breathing deeply. It’s not a long story, at least, and Rikiga already knows the important parts. The parts about how, when he was sixteen years old and a star student at the Golden Library, he helped a stranger escape from the Crown Guards and led him to hide in the basement. How he took care of him for almost a month, as best as he could, stealing infusions and medicine from his mother’s shop to help with his wounds. How he sneaked away to keep him company, even after he learnt why he was being pursued, knowing he could be accused of treason if anyone found out

Which was exactly what happened at the end. 

Rikiga got most of that story from him the night his crew went drinking to the tavern where Shion was working near the docks, right after they somehow connected the dots and realized Rikiga knew Karan from years past. 

It’s been a little over a year since that conversation, so it surprises Shion that Rikiga still remembers all the details. And he’s grateful, because it means he only needs to fill in the blanks he avoided before. 

Rikiga is frowning by the time he finishes. 

“So… Nezumi... is Eve?” he says, slowly. 

Shion nods, closing his eyes. 

“Damn. Well, he’s an asshole. He didn’t deserve your help back then, that much I can tell.”

A part of him wants to agree with that, but it’s a hopeless endeavour. 

He doesn’t regret his decision and he knows, with strange certainty, that he never will.  

There’s silence after that and Shion wonders if Nezumi will call for him again any time soon. Idly he realizes he doesn’t even know if Nezumi doesn’t mind Rikiga knowing about his whole double identity deal, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

It is then that another set of footsteps can be heard approaching from the stairs. Shion looks up and finds Nezumi walking down, and then to a corner to drag a small round table to where they sit. 

“Put your arm there,” he says dryly to Rikiga, pushing then a crate to sit on. 

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Rikiga,” says Shion, with his eyes trained on the rolled piece of parchment that Nezumi is carrying, “just do it.”

Rikiga grumbles under his breath but does as Shion requests.

Nezumi places the parchment on the table and begins undoing the bandages on Rikiga’s arm. 

“Does he know?” Nezumi asks, looking sideways at Shion as he finally reveals the wound. 

“Yes.”

There’s no reaction. Nezumi merely nods, asks Rikiga to stay still and unrolls the parchment. 

Old runes are written along its length, beautiful swirls of fresh ink very few comprehend. He presses the parchment along the wound and RIkiga, to his credit, doesn’t even wince. 

There’s a pause and for a moment Shion wonders if Nezumi is regretting this, if he’s just going to walk away and leave them in the cargo hold for the rest of the journey. In the candlelight, Nezumi’s skin looks oddly pale, and Shion notices how stray hairs curl on his temples where sweat has gathered. 

Then, there’s humming. 

Shion recognizes the melody. It’s the same he heard years ago, when Nezumi was finally strong enough to reach into his power. 

The runes on the parchment glow with a soft blue light. Shion hears a surprised gasp coming from Rikiga but his eyes are glued to the process. 

It’s been so long. Sometimes, he thought maybe it had all been a dream. 

Nezumi’s humming turns into a quiet song. The melody rises and falls like the waves they ride and as the runes shine brighter, it changes, until there’s a harmony of voices coming from only one person, a cadence of times old that lives again.

A song woven with magic. The same magic that’s been forbidden in the Sixth Kingdom for two hundred years, the same magic that would’ve gotten Nezumi captured and executed if Shion hadn’t run into him that night. 

The glowing symbols twirl and slide off the parchment, following the cadence of the tune until they disappear under Rikiga’s skin. For a moment, there’s brightness that expands from his elbow to his fingertips, almost as if his blood was alight.

Then it dims until it becomes nothing. 

Nezumi pulls his hands away, slowly, and the parchment is turning black at the edges, an invisible fire burning it until all is left is ashes. 

Where there was a wound, now there’s only a scar, its texture and color a stark difference with Rikiga’s skin in the candlelight. 

“Well, shit,” Rikiga mumbles a little breathlessly, stretching his arm and pulling it close to his face to squint at it. 

Nezumi stands up and shakes the ashes from his lap, keeping his eyes down. 

“Inukashi will come in a moment to show you around and give you your duties,” he says, turning around and walking to the stairs. “Follow their orders and don’t try anything stupid.” 

Shion stares, swallowing down his urge to thank him and ignoring the uneasiness that creeps up his spine. 

***

When Inukashi shows up, he recognizes them as the person who led him to Nezumi’s quarters before. They look no older than eighteen and Rikiga sputteres indignantly, refusing to take orders from someone that young. 

However, it’s not like he has much of a choice. 

Elyurias is the ship’s name and most of its crew are young sorcerers or apprentices, but whatever their powers are, they keep them to themselves. A few older members are also among them, but they don’t seem to hold any special position of authority. 

When Shion is asked about his knowledge on sailing he is tempted to repeat what Rikiga had said before they took them, but he bites his tongue and mentions that he can cook and knows enough about herbalism to treat a few ailments. At that, Inukashi waves a hand dismissively. There’s a cook on board already, so he’s designated as cabin boy and there’s that. 

On the third day on the ship, right before sunset, Inukashi says Nezumi wants to see him. 

And he wants him to bring the book. 

Shion has kept it carefully tucked away with his belongings. So he picks it up and, for the second time since he was brought here, goes into the captain’s cabin.

Nezumi's cabin. 

The sun is already low on the sky when he steps inside and there are some candles lit around the room to keep the shadows at bay. 

Nezumi is standing behind the desk, looking down at a map spread on top of it. His hair falls loose down to his shoulders, framing his face when he lifts his head as the door creaks open. He’s wearing the same long black coat and an expression that betrays nothing.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Nezumi speaks up. “How’s your friend doing?” 

He reminds himself to breathe . 

This is going to be fine. 

“Rikiga is doing better, thank you,” he says almost in a whisper, approaching the desk. 

This conversation is one they need to have, but he can’t be blamed for haven’t been looking forward to it. 

Gingerly, he places the book on the desk and Nezumi’s gaze falls down to it immediately.

In the relative silence of the room, his breathing seems too shallow and too loud, his skin itching with uncomfortable anticipation. 

“Nezumi, I—”

“Save it”, he interrupts, finally looking at him. As always, his eyes are beautiful, like the sky in a storm, but there’s also a strange shine to them that feels out of place. “Let’s make this absolutely clear and put both our cards on the table, since we’ll be working together for awhile. I am indebted to you still, we both know that. So, to even the escales, I’ll share whatever we find with you. Any secrets, any treasure or answer, any proof; it will all be split between the two of.” He stops and takes a breath. “We’ll both get what we want, for whatever we need and we’ll be free to go our separate ways after that. I can take you and your friend to a safe port where you can find transport back to the Sixth Kingdom when it’s all over.”

Shion should feel relieved. It’s what he needs and objectively, the best case scenario. 

It’s the closest thing he’s going to get to an apology.

But his brain is hung on a single word.

“Indebted?” he repeats, trying and failing to read Nezumi’s expression and the small smirk that starts forming on his lips at the question. “What are you talking about? You don’t—if this is what you think I was trying to get at before, you’re sorely wrong .”

“I know that,” he says, straightening slowly to move the chair and take a seat. “But it doesn’t change what I just said.”

“But why… you know that’s not why I did it, right? That I wasn’t trying to get some kind of favor from you?”

Nezumi snorts and rolls his eyes. “You still understand so little, Shion. Going out to the open seas and risking your life to face the perils of a sailor’s life might have been the best decision you have taken.”

“And you’d be one of those perils in this hypothetical life lesson?” he shoots back. 

Nezumi’s smirk widens a bit. 

He recognizes many things there, things he got accustomed to, for a while. Like the smugness, the confidence and the convictions steeled by a life of unfair trials and cruel puppeteers. 

“Why, of course I am! What other role could I have but that of the antagonist force in your life? I’m certainly not a hero or a martyr,” he fakes a shudder. Shion had almost forgotten he had a penchant for theatrics. “I’m the captain of a pirate ship, that would not suit me well at all.” 

“You’re not an antagonistic force,” Shion says, taking the seat in front of the desk and placing his hand on top of the book. “You want the same thing as I do and you’re not looking to take it from me. Moreover, you want to share it justly, right?”

“Congratulations on your listening skills, that’s exactly what I said.” 

Shion decides to ignore that and lets his shoulders rest against the back of the chair. 

The past four years feel like a heavy weight on his back.

“Do you have a location?” he asks, pointing at the map spread on the desk. 

“If I had, I wouldn’t have gone after the book” Nezumi replies. “How much of it have you read?”

There is no point in lying and, the thing is that, despite everything, despite the fear and the hurt and aching in his chest when he thinks of the danger everyone had been in, he believes him. 

He has a feeling he always will.

So he tells him what he knows.

The book, as it turns out, is a journal. An account of the only person who supposedly found one of the three Secrets of Old. The Singing Waters, the Fire’s Call and the Gifted Pearl were all said to be gifts from the gods, one of the five blessings they had bestowed upon their children long before the six kingdoms were born. Some said they were magical objects created by the powerful sorcerers of ages past, when the first pacts were made with creatures of the Fey and power in humans was still raw and new. 

But the discrepancies regarding their origin didn’t matter much. They were legends, inspiration for countless storytellers to give their heroes a goal and a purpose. An example for the priestesses to describe the grace of the gods. Despite that, there were those who seeked them. Those who thought had found proof solid enough and embarked on the path to find them

The Singing Waters to heal, the Fire’s Call to destroy and the Gifted Pearl to create. That was the simplified description of each one. Shion had spent most of his last years at the Golden Library researching and studying the Singing Waters, not because he believed them to be real, but because there was enough evidence to think they were based on a real and powerful healing source that old civilizations had used and that had somehow gotten lost through time and war. There were enough accounts to point to that conclusion. As far as he knew, his professor back then was the most knowledgeable man in the Kingdom on the subject, but even though the Golden Library was the best place to conduct any research, they still always seemed to be one step behind, no matter how much new information was acquired. 

That’s why, when Rikiga showed up with the book during a warm summer night after one of his short trips to close ports, Shion had thought nothing of it. It was a common occurrence, since Rikiga seemed committed to bring him books from his journeys after finding out he used to work and study in the Golden Library. 

When Shion finally got around opening the book and realized it was written in Laidoan, an old tongue spoken only in a handful of places by few individuals, his interest was immediately picked. He then discovered the Laidoan in the book was different from the one he had studied, an archaic version of it mixed with influences from other tongues he wasn’t so familiar with. There were coded passages too, which did nothing to deter his determination. 

It took him over three months of studying and translating, with the few resources he had in the Pious Ward, to figure out that what he had in his hands was an account of an individual who had found the exact location of the Singing Waters. From what he had been able to unravel, there was a first location that needed to be found that would point to the final destination. Problem was, all the passages regarding that first location were particularly obscure, mixed with a heavy tint of Bressen—an old dead tongue he was not familiar with. 

At first, he didn’t really believe it. It could be a lie, a fantasy, but... it seemed too elaborate and it matched many of the things he had learned in his studies. 

The only person he could talk to about it, was Rikiga, who had listened with an incredulous and amused expression until he realized Shion was, in fact, not messing with him. So Shion decided to go with Rikiga on his next trip to Port Daahl, where the Scribes Archive of the Third Kingdom was located. He hoped to find books on Bressen that would help him understand what he was missing.

Now, as he recounts what he has learnt from the journal and breaches the subject on Bressen, a smile curls Nezumi’s lips. He moves to rest his chin on his palm.

Shion stops mid sentence. The sun set a few minutes ago and in the candlelight Nezumi’s eyes are similar to endless pools of turbulent water.

“What?” He asks, regaining his voice. 

“I would call it fate if I didn't know how ridiculous a notion that is and how pleased a priestess would be with that kind of statement.”

“You… that’s not really explaining anything”

“Shion,” Nezumi starts, leaning forward. The light softens some of his features and sharpens others, making him look like a cat before jumping to catch his prey. “ Sarasse kh’ilss. ”

There is an eternity encapsulated in the second that follows. 

It reminds him of the first time he saw Nezumi using his magic, when he was once again strong enough to reach into his power in a dark basement corner, with ink stained fingers and an ancient song spilling from his lips. 

“You—is that…”

Nezumi’s smile widens and his eyes dance.

“Bressen. I’m familiar with it.”

“You speak it?”

“No, I think no one does these days. But I can understand it in written text. It's been a long time since I studied it, but I’ll remember enough, I’m sure.”

Shion swallows, trying to ignore the staccato of his heart. “What did you said, earlier? Arasse… ?”

“ Sarasse kh’ilss . It means ‘in fortune’s wings’, a sort of parting sentence.”

Shion merely nods and his hands shake a little when he finally reacts and stands up, almost knocking the chair behind him. He flips through the pages as quickly and carefully as he can. “Here,” he says, walking around the desk to stand next to Nezumi, placing the open book in front of him. “Can you understand this?”

They spend the next hour working on the first part of the cipher. Nezumi can read a few words in Bressen but, same as with the Laidoan, it’s an old version of it, and both tongues mix and weave together in riddles neither of them can immediately make sense of.

But somehow, at the end of it, they manage to put together a phrase. It’s short and insignificant on its own, but still, it’s something , and Shion sees his exhilaration reflected on Nezumi’s eyes and he forgets, for a moment, what led him to this point and why he’s even set on this goal. Instead, he remembers memories long locked away, of late nights shared reading behind discarded bookshelves, of the stillness brought by the approaching footsteps of a librarian working late hours. Of a younger version of himself, leaning against Nezumi’s shoulder as he picked up the sentence right where he left off, voice soft but unwavering. 

Then the door opens and Inukashi enters the room with no preamble, walking straight towards the desk.

Nezumi leans back a little. “Inukashi, I think I’ve told you you should knock first.”

“I thought I told you I don’t care,” they say, eyebrows raising. “Why, am I interrupting something?” 

“Since you asked so nicely, yes, you are,” Nezumi says, and Shion would very much like to understand the significance of the look they exchange then. He feels the sudden need to press something cold against his cheeks. 

“Too bad. It’s late.”

“We are—”

“ It’s late , Nezumi.”

Shion can feel him tense by his side. And that’s—odd.   

He knew Nezumi to be defensive, that’s something that obviously hasn’t changed, but the situation is still… he can see how Nezumi’s is holding his quill a little too tight, how he quickly drops it to push a rebellious strand of hair away from his eyes. 

“Shion,” he says as he closes the book with care and locks it away in a drawer. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Shion leaves. The book is safe behind him and the key of the drawer where it is kept rests in his hand; the metal cold against his palm as he grips it firmly. 

***

They do continue working on it the next day. And the day after that. It’s a slow progress and Shion still has to tend to the duties Inukashi and other crew members have for him, but that doesn’t bother him. He likes to keep busy and it’s good to do something with his hands as the waves crash softly against the ship and the sun rises high in the sky. 

It’s usually late in the afternoons when he goes to Nezumi’s cabin to spend two to three hours finding meaning in weird passages, putting together symbols and ancient words as the temperature drops and the candles are lit. 

This new routine blossoms with a rhythm that’s both new and familiar. His heartbeat is quick to remember what it was like to jump under the unexpected intensity of Nezumi’s gaze, to feel lost and found under his brightness, small behind his brilliance. 

He cannot bring himself to recall what it was like to think he was never going to meet him again. 

These reflections are usually interrupted when Inukashi shows up and Shion has to leave, the key in his hands. 

He wonders why Inukashi always comes. Why Nezumi’s expression closes off every time without fail.

He wonders, but says nothing. 

In the meantime, the crew seems to slowly be warming up to his and Rikiga’s presence. He suspects in Rikiga’s case it’s partly because he actually knows his way around a ship after years on the sea, and partly because he likes to drink and sing merrily and doesn’t mind placing bets on card games he’s sure to lose. 

In Shion’s case, it starts with one of the younger crew members, who haltingly asks him if he knows of something she can do about the itching on her arms. Warily, she agrees to show him, and Shion is grateful to recognize it as a fairly common skin allergy. Not for the first time since he left with Rikiga, Shion’s glad he followed his instinct and stuffed half of his bag with all the herbs, potions and supplies he had.

So he prepares a balm for her and tells her to let him know when she needs more. A day later an older man comes to him with the same problem. He swallows his surprise and offers the same solution. After that, the navigator shows up with a stomach ache. Then, the rigger complains of a strong headache from working too many hours under an unforgiving sun. The carpenter working with Rikiga asks him for something to alleviate muscle cramps, and Rikiga himself gives in when he wakes up one day with a bad, bad hangover. 

At some point it stops being a surprise and little by little, he learns all their names, and they learn his. 

***

They’re half a day away from Fawaris, a coast city from the Second Kingdom. 

In the first hour of the morning, when the sun is slowly rising from the east and bathing everything with the promising colors of a warm day, Nezumi places strips of parchment all around the perimeter of the ship. On the bow, the forecastle, the main and the quarter deck, the masts and the crow’s nests. Different crew members are tasked with holding them in place and it seems like something they’ve done before, because they move with the confidence of a practiced routine. 

Still, everyone’s attention is on Nezumi when he kneels in front of a bigger piece of parchment in the middle of the main deck and starts singing. 

There’s something almost ethereal about listening to him singing out in the open. He had only witnessed this in poor lit rooms, the song always a quiet melody crafted for a small audience. Now the music expands and the winds carry it to every corner—the harmonies raising like the sea. 

The glow in the different parchments brightens with the song and dims as it ends. 

Right then the edges of reality seem to blur. All around small details start to change; the masts shorten, the bowsprit grows, the sails change their size and color and the wood of of the floorboards looks darker and older. 

It seems like a different ship. 

Shion would bet the name painted on the hull has changed too. 

Nezumi straightens up on the center of it all as a wind picks up and scatters the ashes of the parchments used. “Welcome to the Shy Mistress, everyone”, he says, taking a bow before walking towards his quarters. 

Inukashi speaks up, silencing the claps and laughter that had erupted at the mention of the temporary name of the ship, and starts calling those who’ll go with them to get supplies and assigns tasks to those who’ll stay on the ship once they reach port. 

“Good show,” Rikiga says, standing behind him.

Shion almost jumps out of his skin.

“I didn’t know something like this was possible” he admits once his heart feels a little more under control. 

“Do you think he can do that to another person? Turn you into a horse, maybe?”

Shion laughs, trying and failing to imagine what kind of horse would suit him.

“Oi, Shion!” Inukashi calls, approaching them. “You can go to port once we dock, in case you wanna look around for whatever it is you need for reading time. And, here,” they say, as they rummage through a leather pouch and pick up a closed bag from it. Once he takes it, he realizes it’s heavy with coin. “Don’t give me that look, it’s mostly copper pieces. In case you need to replace all the plants and shit you’ve used to help all the idiots around. Just remember to be back before morning. And you,” they turn to Rikiga, who is trying to step away inconspicuously, “you’ll be coming with me, Colin and André. I need you to carry some stuff.” 

Shion doesn’t need to be told twice. 

As everyone goes back to their positions while the Shy Mistress continues on her path, he goes to find Elena, the cook.

“Hey, Elena?” he calls out when he finds her rummaging through open crates in the cargo hold. “Are you going? To port Fawaris, I mean.”

“You bet,” she says, moving to open another crate. “It’d be nice to have some fresh vegetables even for a few days. And fruit. It’s expensive as hell over here but Nezumi won’t say shit if I make some sort of pie after he finds out.” 

Shion chuckles, something warm spreading in his chest. He had shared Karan’s blueberry pie with him once and Nezumi had devoured it . 

“If that’s the case and you have enough time, would you show me some shops? I’m running low on some of my supplies.” 

“Sure. You wanna continue spoiling them, uh? At this rate they’ll end up going to you for every minor inconvenience,” she turns to him and blinks rapidly, inflicting a different pitch on her voice. “‘Shion, I stubbed my pinky with a table, would you kiss it better?’ Just wait, I’m telling you”. 

Shion laughs and helps her move a crate aside to pull another from behind a pile. “I like helping them if I can.”

“I know. There are a couple of herbalist shops here. I can’t vouch for their quality but I know their location. Is there anything in particular you need? Or just a bunch of herbs?”

He hesitates for a moment. “Um. Azahal. That’s… maybe harder to find.”

“It doesn’t sound familiar, what is it?”

“It’s like… like toronjil, or similar, in some aspects. But stronger. It’s native to the Sixth Kingdom and doesn’t grow well in other locations, usually,” he explains, carefully removing a bag of grain from the crate as Elena counts. 

“Uh. I guess we won’t need more of that. Help me close this.” 

They work silently for a moment, long enough to think the conversation is over. 

His mistake. 

“And why do you need that? The stronger thing?”

“Ah,” Shion mumbles, stalling. “It’s—I need it to sleep.”

“Is that the thing you put on that tea each night?”

“Yeah.” 

“Isn’t toronjil good enough for that too though?”

“No. I mean, yeah but—not for me,” he says, resisting the urge to wring his hands. “Azahal it’s the only thing that works. It’s a condition, I guess. Sleeping problems. My father used to have it, from what I’ve heard. Mine started a couple of years ago.”

“Uh. That sucks.”

“A bit.”

“And it doesn’t have any bad effects? Like, I don’t know, making you see flying puppies or something?”

“It’s—no,” he says smiling in spite of himself. “It could if prepared incorrectly, but my mom perfected the distillation process. I sometimes get a bit disoriented for a bit before actually falling asleep, but that’s all.”

“Good thing you were born in the Sixth Kingdom then.”

Shion shrugs. “I was lucky. Azahal can be hard to come by there too. You know how… well. The law’s against magic there—”

“I know. We all do.”

“Right. Ah… the authorities use azahal as a measure of protection when they—” he stops, licks his lips, “when they capture a sorcerer.” He looks sideways. Elena is looking at him with a frown. “Another of its uses is the suppression of the power in magic users. It’s the only thing that doesn’t have a bad side effect and allows them to conduct… interrogations. In a—a safe way.” 

There’s a tense moment of silence.

“Well. Fuck.”

Shion feels a bit sick. The interrogations are safe, yes, for everyone involved except the sorcerer being questioned.  

“Yeah.” 

“Does Nezumi know about this? About you having this thing, I mean.”

“No, why would—”

“I don’t know, Shion,” she sighs, and takes a seat in the crate she just closed. “I’m not a sorcerer, but my wife is. As are many around here—that’s the main reason why we stick together. Nezumi is the one with the fancier tricks, and the cleverest of us all. And if I was him, or any of the others, I’d like to know that I’m travelling with someone who regularly uses a crazy plant that could suppress my power just like that.” 

“But—it’s a different preparation and—”

“Not the point, Shion.”

He looks away. “It didn’t even occur to me, Elena. I don’t… I don’t usually talk about this. It’s just—it’s for me. I would never use it on anyone here. Least of all Nezumi, he—”

A gentle hand on his shoulder encourages him to look back. Elena gives him a small smile, her eyes warm in the candlelight. “I know. I won’t tell anyone, Shion, just thought I’d mention it, you know?” She straightens and ruffles his hair. “Now stop looking all worried. It’s not a good look on you.” 

After that, it’s a bit of a long walk back up to the main deck.

He wanted to ask Nezumi something before they docked. He still wants to, but now there are spider webs of doubts clogging his lungs and his hands and feet feel like they’re made of lead. 

Still, he ends up in front of the door of the captain’s cabin. It occurs to him he’s never called Nezumi “captain” and wonders if seeing his reaction is worth the try. 

He inhales, exhales, knocks and waits. 

No answer. 

“Nezumi?” he calls, knocking again. 

He turns and takes a step to look around, scanning through the crew members working on the main deck to see if he spots Nezumi among them with no luck. 

Trying the handle seems like the next sensible step. It gives a soft click when he turns it, allowing him to open the door slowly. 

The light of the morning enters through the circular windows and expands in golden halos that give everything the appearance of a dream. Maybe that’s why it takes him a second, as he steps in and closes the door behind him, to notice the figure sitting behind the desk, slumped forward. 

Something coils around his heart and tugs painfully.

“Nezumi?” he calls, forcing his feet to move. 

He’s probably just asleep.

Shion keeps his hand steady when he places it on Nezumi’s shoulder, swallowing down a sigh of relief as he feels him breathing.  

Then, he sees the vial of spilled ink on top of some papers. They’re all ruined, whatever they had, and Nezumi’s hand, still loosely holding a quill, is stained black.

Suddenly, he stirs under his touch and Shion squeezes his shoulder softly. “Nezumi, hey, you should go to your bed if you’re this tired.”

Nezumi straightens slowly, his movements sluggish, and he turns to look at Shion through bleary eyes. There’s color high on his cheeks and his skin glistens under the light with a sheen of sweat. 

Only then Shion registers that his breathing seems short and erratic.

“What—” Nezumi is saying, looking disoriented. 

“I think you fell asleep on your desk”, Shion explains, voice heavy with worry, placing a hand on Nezumi’s forehead. He’s burning up. 

Nezumi frowns slowly before turning to look at his desk. He must notice the mess immediately then, because he stands up way too quickly, forcing Shion to back up a step and knocking his chair on the process. 

He curses under breath, pressing his ink stained fingers against his forehead.

“No, no, wait.” Shion hurries forward, catching his wrist and pulling his arm down. “Don’t—just… look.”

Nezumi thankfully stays still as Shion takes off the thin scarf he wears around his neck.

“Shion—”

“You’re sick,” he interrupts, focusing his attention on dragging the fabric across Nezumi’s forehead. The ink slides off easily. Then he moves to clean his open palm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m not sick, Shion.”

“Bullshit,” he counters, his voice sounding rough and quiet in the golden light of the morning. 

He continues cleaning his fingers, one by one, when on his peripheral vision he notices Nezumi swaying momentarily in front of him. He almost drops what he's doing to steady him, but before that, Nezumi leans forward, pressing his forehead on Shion’s shoulder. 

He can feel his breathing on his neck. At least it feels a little more regular now. 

“I’m just tired. The spell. It takes a toll.”

Shion stands very still. The moment feels fragile and brittle, he feels as if moving would be enough to shatter everything around him.

He hasn’t let go of Nezumi’s hand yet. 

“You are too warm, Nezumi. This is not just tiredness.” 

There’s an exhale against his neck. The coil around his heart is still there, tugging painfully. 

“Living people are warm,” Nezumi says. 

And Shion wants to laugh, wants to push him away, wants to hold him closer. 

He does none of those things.

***

He doesn’t find azahal in Fawaris but he wasn’t really holding onto any hope for that. Thanks to Elena, he does find one good herbalist shop and buys more than enough to have supplies that will last for a while. 

He also finds a book on Bressen, which is what he was going to ask Nezumi about but he instead ended up using his energy to convince him to drink some water and go to bed. 

They leave the port the next day and, when afternoon comes, he feels trepidation crawling up his spine as he knocks on Nezumi’s door. 

Nezumi does appear to be okay. He even humours Shion and lets him press his hand against his forehead, smirking up at him the whole time. Shion ignores the way his heart jumps and pushes the memory of Nezumi leaning against him behind a smile. 

“It was really tiring then,” he says, giving him the key so he can open the drawer where the journal is kept. “The spell, I mean.”

“Magic is complicated, I didn’t tell you everything about it back then,” Nezumi explains as the lock clicks open. 

“You didn’t? I asked you plenty of questions.”

“Yes, but I didn’t trust you enough.”

Shion pauses. Nezumi is opening the book in front of them.

“I thought you had.”

“Had what?”

“Trusted me.” 

Nezumi meets his eyes for a beat and Shion is thankful his gaze doesn’t waver. 

“You were naive.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes, shrugging, and decides this conversation will get them nowhere. So he picks up the bag with the book he bought and takes it out, handing it over to Nezumi. “I got something that might be helpful.”

“A book?”

“On Bressen”

The reaction is immediate. Nezumi takes it and flips it open in one motion, going through the first pages and then skipping right to the middle. 

“Port Fawaris?”

“Yes. I thought it might help us with—”

“Perfect,” Nezumi cuts in, and when he looks up his smile is bright and open and Shion feels a bit unsteady on his feet. “Look, there’s a list of the declensions, even the ones that got merged with the years.” 

He walks around the desk and moves a stool to sit at Nezumi’s side. The first sentence has something that catches his eye. “Isn’t this the one that keeps showing up? Here...“ he points, pulling the journal so it’s side to side with the book. “It’s the same. Here too.”

Nezumi laughs at his side and the light of the sunset catches on his hair.

He looks lovely.

Shion forces himself to look away. 

“I think we might figure this out,” Nezumi says, pulling a blank parchment open and picking up a quill.

Shion’s voice is barely above a whisper when he agrees: “I think so too.” 

Two hours later the night finds them with all they need, all the words and sentences connected. The cipher is no longer a mystery. 

Still, it doesn’t make sense.

Nezumi paces the room with a parchment in his hands, reading it under his breath over and over again. Shion stands leaning against the desk, just watching him.

“Maybe we got something wrong,” Nezumi says. 

“No,” Shion replies. “We checked. It’s all… it’s all there.” He rubs his eyes, thinking, trying to think. It feels like there’s something just at his fingertips, always sliding away at the last possible second. 

“But it doesn’t… what is this supposed to mean?”

“Maybe that’s the whole point. Something meaningless, or something that only the author could understand.” 

Nezumi stops pacing and just looks at him. In the silence, the sound of the parchment crinkling under his grip feels too loud. “Where’s your optimism now, Shion? Because we could use some of that now. Maybe it would work a miracle for us, who knows, might be worth the try.” 

Shion walks up to him. “You’re being unfair.”

“Am I? And you get to decide that?”

“Yes,” he remarks, taking the parchment off Nezumi’s hand, thankful when he doesn’t resist and just lets it go. “Have you casted any spells today?” 

Nezumi looks momentarily thrown aback.

“What?”

“Spells. Maybe you’re tired and that’s why you’re so prickly,” Shion says as he turns and goes back to lean against the desk. “Because of magic and all of that.”

“I didn’t know you could be sarcastic.”

“Yes, well, maybe you’re rubbing off on me.” 

“But it doesn’t suit you.” 

Shion decides to ignore him. Nezumi is very much like a temperamental cat when he’s in a mood. “Perhaps we’re looking at this from the wrong perspective,” he says, frowning. 

“How so?”

“It says, ‘ in the Siris, find the sky above the tallest grass ’. We know the Siris was—is a temple.”

“A temple that’s probably been underwater for a long time.”

“Do you know…?” he bites his lip, thinking, trying to remember, trying to keep reaching. “Laidoans... what was their religion like?”

“Uh,” Nezumi walks towards him, frowning. “They—I think their pantheon looked a lot like… a mix from Fey and the Gods of the five blessings.” 

“They adored the Fey?” Shion questions, looking up at Nezumi. 

“Yes. From what I know many of their high priests were sorcerers who had pacts with powerful creatures from beyond.”

That makes him look back down at the parchment so sharply he’s sure his neck might hurt the next day. “Temples to the Fey, Nezumi, they were different.”

At that, something in Nezumi’s expression clears and his eyes widen a fraction

“Towers,” he says. “The Laidoans loved towers, we know their cities were full of them—” 

“And their temples were no different,” Shion cuts in, excitement growing until he almost feels his hands shake. 

“Shion,” Nezumi adds, and he’s smiling again, eyes alight. “ Garden s, the word in Laidoan for temple is alk’naan and it means garden .”

“So ‘ the tallest grass —’”

“The tallest tower in the Siris,” he completes. “It’s a poor excuse of a metaphor, but it makes sense” 

Shion can hear his heartbeat loud in his ears. He’s still holding the parchment in his hands and Nezumi is standing right in front of him, the storm in his eyes holding so much it threatens to spill and drown him. 

He would let it, he realizes. 

And it should be a terrifying thought to have, but it’s not fear what he feels. 

“It must be,” he finally answers, his voice a whisper.

Nezumi’s smile changes suddenly and he leans in, crowding Shion against the desk. “You look distracted.”

“I am,” he admits, holding the parchment against his chest. He feels his cheeks heat and wonders how well can Nezumi see in the candlelight.

Nezumi moves his hand, slowly, and threads his fingers in Shion’s hair. He can’t help but close his eyes and remember. Nezumi did the same thing the night before he had to run away, carded his fingers through Shion’s hair while he was reading until he fell asleep with his head on his lap. That’s how they found them, right before the escape. 

When Nezumi speaks again, his voice is soft but clear.

“At least, this means we’re not going to the place where the Siris is located for nothing.”

Shion decides not to say anything, lest the multitude of words in his throat choke him. After a few seconds, Nezumi steps back, straightening.  

“When will we get there?” he asks finally, wondering if in the silence Nezumi’s thoughts had traveled with his own, back to four years ago.

“Three days. Possible four. Gives us time enough to prepare.”

***

André and Val are the best swimmers in the crew, according to Inukashi, so it’s lucky that they volunteer to dive to the ruins with them. They shed the clothes that would only weigh them down and Shion resents the chill of the morning wind as it hits his naked back when they gather at the bow of the ship. Nezumi is the only one who looks mostly the same; only his boots and coat are gone.

Before he can say anything, Karina, Elena’s wife, appears with Inukashi at her side and casts a spell on the four of them to allow them to breathe underwater. 

A minute later, they jump overboard. 

Shion panics each time he inhales and doesn’t choke on the water. He does his best to focus on following Nezumi and the others, forcing his heart to slow down. 

Luckily, the temple is not too deep under the sea. The waters here are shallow and clear, and the light that filters through still reaches the seafloor and the space around it. 

They spot the ruins easily. 

At a distance, it looks like a mass of darkened stones covered in different forms of sea life. They circle the top of the ruins once and Nezumi, with a gesture, instructs their companions to spread out and around, keeping a perimeter close to the tallest tower. Then he dives towards it and Shion follows. 

The topmost chamber is wider than Shion imagined it would be. Wide arches where windows of stained glass were probably placed make for an easy entrance. Immediately, Nezumi points up to the vaulted ceiling. It is still intact.

Almost at the same time, they start swimming towards it. It doesn’t take to find what they’re looking for. 

Carved on the stone in the center of the ceiling is a strange array of symbols and lines, some of them connect with the others, some don’t. Shion looks at Nezumi with a question on his lips. 

Nezumi smiles at him and gestures to Shion to wait awhile. He nods and moves back a little, keeping an eye on their surroundings until Nezumi turns around and nods once. Together, they push themselves out of the chamber through the arched windows, where they wait for the others to see them. 

And just like that, it’s done. 

He’s almost certain that when he saw Nezumi's expression upon finding the carvings, there was recognition in his eyes. 

He grins and kicks his legs to push himself forward when he sees the others quickly swimming ahead. 

But then—

Paint shots up his right leg as something cold and sharp digs and pulls. A silent scream leaves his lips; just bubbles in the water. 

He turns wildly, trying to kick whatever has got a hold of him. He manages to make contact with something solid and for a moment, he’s free. In that split of second he manages to see the shape of a reptilian creature, a blur of dark green scales, elongated limbs and sharp claws. 

It’s fast. And Shion isn’t a particularly good swimmer. 

This certainty grips him with fear and he barely moves out of the way in time when the creature slashes at him with his claws. Pain blooms in his chest and he kicks, trying to swim upward as he’s grabbed and pulled down again. 

He tries to look in the direction where Nezumi and the others should be but everything is spinning and he can’t distinguish up from down any longer. 

Somehow, he manages to break free once more, turning so the creature is not at his back this time. He has less than a second to regret that decision, seeing with stark clarity the instant the creature curls his arm back to strike at him with its longest claw pointed not to slash or grab, but to pierce . 

He won’t make it. 

However, the pain never comes. A shadow falls between him and the creature, the blow still pushing him back. 

Shion struggles to remain upright and out of the corner of his eye he sees the light reflecting on a blade that gleams right before going into the neck of the reptilian monster. 

His heart catches up with what he’s seeing before his brain does, seizing painfully in his chest. 

Nezumi .

He’s holding onto the creature as he continues to push his sword in, twisting it as a dark substance darkens the water around the wound. The creature trashes, mouth opening to reveal sharp, curved teeth that aim to sink into Nezumi’s shoulder. But he’s quick to dodge, and suddenly there’s Val, holding the creature from behind and sinking a knife into his side. 

It probably lasts only a couple of seconds, but it seems like hours go by before the creature stops moving and they let it go. It sinks down to the ocean floor, it’s mouth still frozen in a silent scream. 

Nezumi turns to him and Shion feels a flood of relief so overwhelming it threatens to drown him very much like the sea should, if there wasn’t magic bending the rules of the universe for him.

They swim up to the surface and as soon as they break it, Nezumi calls out.

“Shion is hurt! Ropes, quick!” 

It doesn’t take long before the four of them are back on the main deck, breathing hard and surrounded by worried eyes and a very upset Inukashi. 

Rikiga is at Shion's side, hovering over Karina while she inspects his wound. 

“What do you mean an Arkraa? What would one of those be doing so far from his colony?” Inukashi is asking to whoever might be brave enough to answer. 

Much to their indignation, Nezumi ignores them and turns to look down at Shion, leaning against the main mast with his clothes still dripping salt water.  

“How bad is it?” he asks, his voice sounding raw and dry. Shion immediately tries to find his eyes. “Does it need healing?”

“No, I don’t think that’d be needed,” Karina says. “It’s not a deep cut, and this one here looks worse than it really is.”

“Like hell it does!” Rikiga protests. “It’s all red and swollen—”

“I’m fine, Rikiga,” Shion cuts in, hating how raspy and strange his voice sounds. He looks at Nezumi, finding his gaze at last. “I’m fine.” 

“Good,” he says. “Good.” 

Then he staggers, and falls down. 

***

When Inukashi lets him in, Shion feels cold to his bones. He distantly remembers Elena convincing him to get out of his damp clothes and Rikiga throwing an extra coat on his shoulders when he kept shivering. 

“What—” he licks his lips. His throat feels dry. “How is he?”

Inukashi leads him to the side of the bed with a tight expression on their face. They look as tired as Shion feels.

“Look for yourself,” they say.

Shion does.

His surprise renders him silent for a minute. 

Nezumi lays on his bed, forehead damp with sweat and a tight expression on his face. He’s shirtless and there’s a bandage around his torso, covering the place the Arkraa’s claw pierced through. And all around it, Shion sees a spider web of white scars, shaped in lighting-like patterns. The marks stretch outwardly, expanding to his navel and wrapping around his sides, reaching up to his chest until they almost curl around his shoulders. 

There’s a soft knock on the door that startles him out of his reverie. 

Karina steps in, holding a basin full of water and clean strips of fabric. When she approaches, Shion has half a mind to step aside and help her move a stool next to Nezumi’s bed. 

“Inukashi,” he starts, as he sees Karina cleaning Nezumi’s forehead and checking his bandages. “What is that? What’s… what’s happening?” 

Inukashi sighs and drags a hand down their face. “He didn’t want you to know.”

“But—”

“I don’t give a shit about that now. But I’m gonna sit first,” they say, going to the desk in the center of the room and flopping down on the chair. 

Shion follows reluctantly, his eyes going back to Nezumi’s still form every few seconds.

“I’ll keep this short because this idiot,” Inukashi says, waving a hand in Nezumi’s direction, “should be the one answering all your questions, not me. Look, the Singing Waters is not the first of the three Secrets that Nezumi has tried to find. First, it was the Fire’s Call and guess what? He found it. A few months ago. He went in alone and came back with those white scars forming right around here,” they explain, placing a finger a few inches above their navel. “And it would be fine if they were just scars, but they kept spreading and he kept getting weaker.” 

Karina walks up to them, looking back at Nezumi over her shoulder. 

“From what I’ve been able to gather,” she says, “there’s something about whatever it was the Fire’s Call did to him that makes his power react… badly. Think of it as some kind of poison, the magic in him sees it as dangerous, directly opposed to it, so it tries to destroy it. The problem is that the poison has already seeped in too deep.”

“As a result,” Inukashi continues, “his power is burning him up from the inside.” 

Shion looks at them both. He heard them, but the words keep repeating themselves in his mind, over and over, and he can’t bring himself to understand. He doesn’t want to take that truth in his hands and hold it. 

He feels it might burn him too. 

Fire’s Call, he thinks. Destruction. 

A realization downs on him. “That’s why you came, each night,” he says.

“Yeah,” Inukashi concedes, sighing. “I checked to see how much the scars were spreading, since I didn’t trust him to tell me the truth if I asked.”

“What happens when—” Shions starts. Clears his throat. “What happens when he uses his magic? Or when he gets hurt?”

“We think it accelerates the process,” Karina says. “Under normal circumstances the power of a sorcerer wouldn’t react instinctively if they’re wounded. Magic diminishes to preserve itself if the user it’s too weak. But this poison forces it to react violently, and when magic it’s used, the poison reacts back, starting a chain effect.”

Shion is thankful the empty chair is close by. He grabs the back of it, gripping it until his hand hurts. 

“When we went to Fawaris… he—?”

“Looked like death warmed over afterwards?” Inukashi interrupts. “Yeah, that’s why. I told him not to waste energy in such a big fucking spell. We had enough supplies still, with what we took from Rikiga’s ship and some rationing… we could’ve managed. Do you think he listened?” 

Shion remembers the fear he felt when they caught him after he helped Nezumi escape. Remembers the dread that settled in his stomach when they read his sentence after the trial, casting him out of the Blessings and prohibiting any contact with his mother and anyone from his life. Remembers the distress running in his veins when he saw Rikiga hurt on the deck of his ship. 

All of it feels like nothing compared to what he’s feeling now. 

Still, he forces himself to speak. 

“So now, until he heals, the chain reaction wont stop.”

Karina nods. Inukashi looks away, their lips tightly shut. 

“Is no one else on board able to heal him?”

“We don’t know what will happen if we add someone else’s power into the mix. It’s not… it’s not worth the risk”, she says, sighing. “I’ve been thinking of a way to suppress his power; it wouldn’t make any difference in the long run, but in situations like this, it’d give us enough time for his body to find some balance and for me to heal him with a spell so it—”

“What,” Shion interrupts, hearing his voice distantly, like he’s in a dream. “what did you—suppress his power? That would help?” 

Inukashi and Karina exchange a glance. 

Shion feels his heart in his throat. 

“Well—”

“Karina,” he says, “I can do that. I have—there’s something I can prepare. Would that help?”

***

It takes both Inukashi and Rikiga’s insistence to get him to leave Nezumi’s side. Elena half threatens him to get him to eat something and Karina watches him like she expects him to collapse at any second. 

But, weirdly enough, he doesn’t feel tired. Or hungry, or sleepy or… anything. 

Once he had picked up the azahal from his supplies and started preparing the tincture needed, a strange numbness had taken over him. It brought him an alien sense of calm, a quiet settling in like the sea before a storm. 

He wasn’t sure how long it was going to last. 

Inukashi is the one who finds him later, and they don’t need to say anything because it’s all too clear in their tired smile. 

Shion rushes back to the cabin, breathless before taking the first step, and doesn’t bother knocking before steeping in.

Nezumi is sitting up on his bed, head tilted back and lips pursed in something close to a pout. His eyes, trained on the wooden beams of the ceiling, turn immediately to Shion when he hears the door opening. 

“Shion—”

The calm dissipates like seafoam on the sand. He feels frayed at the edges, about to burst with something that chokes him as he tries to speak.

“You—you idiot,” he says, approaching the bed as he lets the door slam shut behind him. “Why didn’t you say anything?! I was—I thought you were going to die , Nezumi.” 

And he must notice the irony of hearing those words, so similar to what he said to him right after he dropped the visage of Eve in this same room. 

But thankfully, he says nothing, staring at Shion with clear and focused eyes. 

“This is why you want the Singing Waters. You need them.” 

“Yes. I do.”

It surprises Shion a little, how clear his voice sounds. How certain. 

It hurts, too.

“You could’ve told me,” he starts again, trying to bite down on the pain that breaks his voice at the end. “Everyone in your crew knows. And I’m not—you don’t have to trust me, Nezumi, but I would’ve understood, I would’ve helped —”

“You did help,” Nezumi interjects. “We found the location. I already gave Inukashi the course to follow.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because of this,” he explains, waving a hand in his general direction before leaning back to stare at the ceiling once more. “Because I knew you’d get like this. Worried. Distracted.”

“You didn’t tell me because I care? For the Gods above, Nezumi, if that worries you so much, you should’ve never brought me along in the first place.” 

Nezumi says nothing to that. He sees him gripping the sheets by his sides in tight fists, his jaw set firmly.

Shion waits in the silence, feeling the anger seep out of him in slow waves, all the tiredness kept at bay for hours coming to replace it. 

He rubs his eyes and looks at the window. The sun is setting behind the horizon and the sound of waves sets a calming rhythm that his heart aches to follow. 

“Thank you,” he says at last. “For saving my life. That creature... I wasn’t fast enough, and I thought—'' He shakes his head. It doesn’t matter now. “But don’t do anything like that again. I know you think there’s this… debt between us, but you can’t take that risk just to balance the scales, or whatever idea of it you have in your mind, Nezumi. Just—I don’t care, alright? Forget it ever happened. I’m sure you would’ve found a way to survive an escape on your own anyway. You were stronger than me even then—” 

Nezumi’s eyes snap to him so fast and so keen that Shion’s words die in his mouth.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he says, supporting himself with his hands to sit straight. Shion resists the urge to reach out to him and help. “I would’ve never survived that day if you hadn't found me. I would’ve been lost, in more ways than one, if we hadn’t crossed paths. This was… this was never about a debt, Shion. I’m not trying to repay you because I know that no matter what I do, it would never be enough. But I can’t stand aside while you're getting hurt. I can’t . Not after I’ve done that for so long. Don’t ask that of me.”

Shion can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, in his ears, in the tremor of his breathing. 

It is almost funny, he thinks, that it took for both of them to see the eyes of death for their walls to finally crumble completely.

“I’m allowed to hope,” he says, finally, and his voice doesn’t shake.

Nezumi turns his face away and closes his eyes.

“I hate this,” he mutters.

“What?”

There’s a beat of silence before the quiet answer: “Caring.”

Shion needs to sit down. There must be a limit to how many conflicting emotions a person can feel without bursting at the seams.  

He settles for clearing his throat. “It can be quite uncomfortable at times.”

“Do you think one can just—stop, somehow?” Nezumi asks. 

“No. I’ve been told it’s not exactly a fair deal.”

And at that, and last, Nezumi smiles. “Do you think they’ll accept it?”

“Accept what?”

“The Singing Waters. In exchange for your old status.”

Shion tries and fails to form the same question at least twice.

“How do you—?”

“A deduction. It wasn’t hard to guess, Shion.”

He gives in and takes a step closer to the bed, sitting at the end of it as Nezumi’s eyes follow him.

“I don’t care about… ‘my status’, as you call it. There are things that I miss about it, yes, but I’m not looking to get my life at the Blessings back. I just—” he sighs, looking down at his hands. “I haven’t seen or talked to my mom in four years, Nezumi. And just as I’m not allowed to enter any of the districts save for the Pious Ward, she’s not allowed to leave the Blessings because of me. I know she lives comfortably there, and she has her shop and her clients, but I’m… I’m selfish. I want to see her, to know that she’s alright. And I want her to know that I am too, because she used to worry so much back then, and now I can’t imagine—” 

“Good thing we have a destination, then,” Nezumi says, and when Shion turns to look at him, his gaze is already on him. Piercing and intent. 

Something about setting the course at the beginning of the conversation rings in his mind. 

“You—I thought... ”

“The carvings on the ceiling were old runes; the Fey used them to mark a group of islands they considered sacred. I know where to go, and we’re not that far away.”

He stares. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Nezumi reaches out and Shion, without thinking, reaches back and takes his hand. “We’ll find it. You’ll take it back to them and you’ll see your mother again. And then you’re going to give me some of that pie that she makes, the one you brought to me back then.”

Shion laughs, and there are tears in his eyes, but Nezumi doesn’t mention it.

“Okay,” he says. “okay.”

***

It shouldn’t be surprising that their final destination is in a cave on an island in the middle of an archipelago called Sailor’s Graveyard . They anchor the Elyurias out of the reef range and use two smaller boats that are easy to maneuver around the treacherous rock formations of the outer ring. 

It takes two long hours before they finally reach a spot safe enough to leave the boats and easy for them to approach. The island’s vegetation is lush and vibrant, seemingly untouched by any form of civilization. They marvel at its beauty, but only until the heat starts to make the air feel stifling, the humidity causing their clothes to cling uncomfortably to their skins. 

Rikiga, who refused to let Shion go away again without him, helps to clear the path of vines and long branches that make it impossible to move easily. Still, it takes them another hour before they find the cave. 

After a long discussion and some shouting from Inukashi, them, Rikiga and André reluctantly agree to wait at the entrance while Shion and Nezumi slowly descend. 

The air inside the cave is pleasantly cool. Shion sighs in relief as Nezumi walks a few steps ahead of him, sword in hand. 

“Do you think this will be dangerous, too?” He asks, making sure for the twentieth time that he’s carrying the bag with the two vials they’ll need. 

“I doubt it. The Fire’s Call is about destruction, I should’ve expected it,” Nezumi answers, stopping for a second before they take a turn. “The Singing Waters are the opposite but… I guess we can only wait and see.” 

It takes a couple of minutes for Shion to notice that something’s off. At first, he can’t pinpoint exactly what, but as they keep moving forward, the feeling persists. 

And then it dawns on him.

Caves are supposed to be dark but neither of them has had the need to lit a torch. And even though it’s dim, there is a light that’s enough for his eyes to see everything around.

Finally, he looks up.

“Nezumi?” he calls softly. 

“What is it?”

“Look,” he says, pointing.

Along the curved cavernous ceiling, there’s a thin series of cracks that emanate a soft glow. And they continue, expanding towards the direction they’re taking.

“That’s a sign if we needed any,” Nezumi says, fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword. 

“There’s writing here, I think.”

And there is. Along a ridge on the rock, a series of carved symbols are visible, the glow coming from them too. 

“Those are Fey in origin.”

“Can you understand their meaning?”

“Possibly. These are similar to what I use for my spells.” He moves closer to where Shion is and, in silence, inspects the symbols for a moment. “It’s… something about humility. And patience.”

“Nothing about the Singing Waters?”

“No, not that I can see.”

So they move on, and it’s less than a minute before the tunnels open up to a wider chamber. 

Without saying a word, they stop at the entrance. There's a soft melody that echoes in the space, a sound like rushing water and shining stars and winds blowing against open sails. The glowing cracks that line the top of the tunnel expand and multiply in the chamber, forming an array of lines that stretch from the entrance to cover all sides of the cavern walls and converge on the opposite point, where a thin stream of water emerges from a fissure on the rock, hitting the side of a concave platform and then running down to disappear in a crevice on the floor.

It seems so simple, for something with so much significance. Even so, Shion feels his breath catching. It feels sacred. Unique.

Nezumi clears his throat at his side and Shion looks at him. He seems to shake himself briefly and he wonders if maybe whatever presence is instilled in these walls is affecting him too. 

“Shall we?” Nezumi asks, and takes the first step forward. 

Shion follows him in. They walk the twenty feet that are between them and the small stream. The melody is all encompassing now, still soft, still quiet, but surrounding them fully, so much so it feels weird to speak.

“Should I…?” Shion asks in a whisper, looking at the glowing lines all around them.

“Yes. It’s… better not to  linger too long.”

“Right,” he mutters, fumbling for the first vial. He holds it with trembling hands and gets closer to the crevice where the water comes from before glancing Nezumi over his shoulder. 

He stands close behind, his hand tight around the hilt of his sword, shoulders tense. “Go ahead. I’m right here.” 

So Shion places the mouth of the vial under the stream and watches with fascination as it trickles down and slowly starts to fill it. 

“There’s an inscription here,” Nezumi says in a whisper, and Shion can hear him taking a few steps back “On the top. Just like the runes before. It’s—it’s in Laidoan.” 

“What does it say?”

There’s a brief pause.

“Uh… roughly, something like ‘ a gift in a hundred turns around a star ’” 

Shion hums quietly, seeing how finally the water reaches the brim. He straightens and turns to look at Nezumi, quickly picking the cork from the bag to close the vial.

“It sounds like a proverb, an adage of sorts,” he says, finally looking up to find Nezumi staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Shion—”

“Nezumi, what’s—?”

“Shion, the water, it’s…”

He turns. The stream has been reduced to a slow trickle; small droplets that fall silently on the rock. 

Until it stops. 

Shion breathing stops too, as a dizzying confusion takes over him. 

“Did you do something?” Nezumi asks. 

“What—No, of course not, I only… it was fine, just seconds ago, I didn’t…”

Nezumi’s expression falters. Shion feels his chest constrict as a panic settles in.

No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be. This can’t be. 

His mind races to find an answer, an explanation, anything— 

But then he hears Nezumi’s soft laughter. It’s a broken thing, a melody from a forgotten instrument. 

It feels almost painful.

“Nezumi?”

“Oh, the Gods are cruel ”, he mutters, head hanging low. His hand flexes around the handle of his sword, shaking it idly from side to side. “Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, what were we thinking?”

“I’m not… Nezumi, I don’t understand.”

Nezumi finally looks up. His eyes are dull and his expression forms an imperfect smiling mask. 

But upon looking back at Shion’s face, something breaks. The mask falls, slowly, easily, leaving only an odd blend of anger and resignation. He shakes his head and waves his empty hand at the inscription.

“Humility and patience on the runes from before. And now this, ‘ a gift in a hundred turns around a star ’. What a load of bullshit,” he spats, and realization starts to dawn on Shion. “One time in a hundred years. One chance, one dose. I bet there’s a shitty life lesson they intended to impart from this.”

And it makes sense.

Shion hates that it makes sense. 

He’s frozen on the spot, still holding the vial with the Singing Waters in his hands. It’s just then he notices the melody around them has stopped. 

Nezumi curses under his breath, turns around and starts walking away. 

“Where are you going?” Shion asks, still unmoving.

“What do you mean? We’re getting out of here. There’s nothing left.”

“But—”

“Don’t—” he bites out, turning sharply to look at him. “Don’t do this, Shion. There’s nothing else. Let's leave.”    

He doesn’t want to give in. 

But he forces himself to take a step anyway, and then another, and he follows Nezumi out of the chamber and back into the tunnel. 

As they walk, the lights on the cracks above them start to dim. 

Shion wants to scream ; he doesn’t want any more signs, does need more.

Nezumi’s voice cuts loudly through the silence.

“We have enough supplies to make a journey straight to the Sixth Kingdom. Without detours and changing Elyurias’ appearance to use trade routes, we should be there in less than three weeks.”  

“What are you talking about?” 

“You need to go back to your life, and to your mother, and I need to repay some favours. My crew—”

“Wait. Wait .” He stops. A few steps ahead, Nezumi stops too. “This is not… I’m not taking this,” he says, lifting the vial. The soft light from the cracks above makes its surface shine. “Nezumi, you need this.” 

“You need it too.”

“You can’t compare that. You can’t ,” he says, walking up to him until they’re right in front of each other. “Don’t ask me to stand aside and watch you get hurt. You said that , to me. The least you could do it’s to return the favor.” He pushes the vial against Nezumi’s chest, holding it there. “I won’t take this. I won’t , not if it’s the only thing that can keep you alive.” 

Nezumi looks from his eyes down to the vial. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breaths.

“You’re so stubborn,” he says then. “You have a life to go back to, Shion. I’m a sorcerer and a pirate—in most places, my existence is a crime. But you… you could do so much. And this—” he stops, placing a hand above Shion’s, where he’s holding the vial against his chest. “This is a possibility you deserve.”

“You’re not listening,” Shion says firmly. “I won’t take this. Not if by the end it means I’ll never get to see you again, even if it’s by chance. That’s the only possibility I want to keep.” He takes Nezumi’s other hand and, when he doesn’t resist, places it under the base of the vial. Then he leans in, resting their foreheads together. “If you don’t take it, I’ll just drop it all on the sea at the first chance I get. I bet that will make some fish really happy.” 

 Nezumi huffs a weak laugh. “You’re an idiot, Shion.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“No. But it’s not like you’re giving me much of a choice.”

At that, it’s his turn to smile.

**

Back in the ship, after toasting to his enemies and downing the Singing Waters in one go, Nezumi falls asleep.

At first, Shion panics. He and Inukashi rush to steady him as he sways in place, the memory of him collapsing after the attack in the underwater temple still fresh for them both. But as the minutes go by and Karina inspects him, it seems he only has fallen to a deep slumber. 

They check his white web of scars and, slowly, they seem to be retracting and fading.

This time around, Inukashi doesn’t try to pry him from his side. They bring him food and keep him company at times insead. 

But in between, there’s stillness. He doesn’t hear the waves or the wind, doesn’t notice the light changing as the sun moves in the sky. His eyes are focused on the rise and fall of Nezumi’s chest, on his hair spilling like fresh ink on the pillow. He holds his hand and tries to memorize its warmth—how alive it feels against his skin. 

At some point, the realization comes to him slowly, softly, like the first notes of a song. 

He loves him. 

And it’s not surprising, it’s not crushing or scary. It simply is. 

Maybe it always has.

***

Twelve hours later, Nezumi opens his eyes. 

“Nezumi,” Shion asks quietly, as if his voice could somehow affect whatever outcome they will get. “How do you feel?”

Nezumi looks at him and reaches out a hand. Shion catches it immediately. “Cold,” he answers, sitting up without letting go. “How long—?”

“Half a day,” he says, looking down at their hands. He moves his fingers gingerly until he can place them on Nezumi’s pulse. His heart beats steadily. “The scars from Fire’s Call have been fading.” 

Nezumi merely nods before leaning forward until his forehead rests on Shion’s shoulder. He exhales, slowly, and says nothing for a long time.

Shion’s throat feels tight. 

“I’m still here,” Nezumi mutters, finally. Shion squeezes his hand once and turns just enough to kiss the crown of his head. His hair is silky under his lips.

“You are.”

“You’re still here, too.”

Shion smiles. “Yes.” 

“Tell Inukashi I resign. They can be the captain now. I want to rest for what’s left of this journey.”

Shion chuckles, feeling his eyes fill with tears. 

“They’ll hate you if you do that.”

“Mmm.”

“What about… you power, Nezumi, do you still—?” 

“Yes,” he says quietly, still leaning against Shion. “It’s with me still. It’s—it really worked, Shion. It really did.”

“I know.”

“But—Shion. Your life, and your mother—”

He squeezes his hand and raises it up to his lips to place a soft kiss on his knuckles. 

Nezumi stays very still. 

“We’ll find another way. I’m sure we will.”

After that, for a long time, neither of them moves.

***

They’re less than a week away from the Sixth Kingdom.

The journey back has been blissfully uneventful. Shion has devoted more of his time to help Elena in her duties, and is helping her with the inventory in the cargo hold when a sound of footsteps descending down the stairs startles them both.

The surprise only increases when they see Nezumi coming towards them, holding a… a flower? And Inukashi following close behind.

“Shion!” Nezumi calls, and his eyes seem to be lit from the inside. It’s the same look he had when they broke the cipher in the journal in what seems like ages ago. “Look.”

And he holds the flower. 

The flower in question is, well, it’s a pretty flower. Big, with wide purple petals, vibrant even the dim light of the room. 

“Uh,” he says, confused, looking at Inukashi and Karina in turns. “Thank you?”

Nezumi laughs a bit… hysterically, and for a second Shion thinks ‘oh, he’s lost it, the cure was fake’. 

“Shion, please , if I wanted to give you flowers you’d get a bouquet, with asters for your name. No, listen, this is—Inukashi, why don’t you tell them?”

“Because you won’t shup up! Gods above, you do love listening to the sound of your voice, don’t you?” 

Shion still hasn’t recovered from the word bouquet when Inukashi starts telling their story. 

“Listen, while I was waiting with the others outside of that creepy cave I decided to wander for a bit, alright? Because I was getting bored and thinking way too much for my liking. So I follow this path around the creepy thing for a while and then I see this patch of beautiful wildflowers, and it seems fair to keep at least one, as a memory, because this stuff is supposed to be legendary and maybe it’ll cheer me up if I get to be old and cranky, so—”

“It’s been two weeks Shion,” Nezumi interrupts, handing the flower over to him. “Just look at it.”

“Didn’t you find it weird?” Karina asks Inukashi, her eyes on the soft looking petals. 

“Why would I? I mean, some plants are weird as hell, right? I didn’t really pay it any mind until Nezumi saw it minutes ago and started asking questions.”

“There’s a difference between weird and unnatural, Inukashi,” Nezumi says.

“I’m no expert, alright?”

Shion listens to them distantly, staring at the flower in his hands. It looks freshly cut, overflowing with life still. 

“Nezumi, do you think—?” he asks, not daring to finish the sentence. Not daring to hope.

There’s finally a moment of silence.

“I don’t know, Shion. But if it’s like this because of its proximity to the Singing Waters source, then it’s worth a try. Can you do it?”  

The distillation process his mother taught him years ago, the one he’s been using infallibly since then, repeats itself in low whisper in his mind, over and over again. 

“Yes,” he says finally. “Yes, I can.” He looks up. Karina is smiling at him and Inukashi ‘ oohs ’ in surprise.

And Nezumi— 

Nezumi looks happy . His eyes alight with warmth and something else that Shion doesn’t dare to name. 

***

The request for an audience with his former professor in the Blessings takes three days to be processed. It’s just enough time for Shion’s nerves to steadily rise until he feels sick just thinking about it.

It doesn’t help to know that Nezumi and his crew are docked at the port of the Pious ward, the ship’s appearance changed once more to look like a merchant vessel. It still doesn’t negate the fact that there are a bunch of sorcerers and pirates stationed in a city where magic can be punished by death. 

Very calming thoughts indeed. 

He finally enters the Blessings feeling the weight of his old life dragging his eyes to all the corners he used to be familiar with, noticing the changes and the things that remain the same. It seems like it only takes a second for the guards to escort him to the office of his old professor and he closes his eyes to pray, to any deity that might be listening, so his words won’t betray him now. 

The man that once taught him and guided him sits at the end of a long room, surrounded by books and years of accumulated knowledge. His hands are clasped on his desk, his face unreadable. 

Shion can’t tell what he’s feeling or what he thinks of him now. He remembers he vouched for him and his words during the trial, but in his eyes he’s probably still a traitor to the beliefs of the Kingdom. 

He approaches the desk with steady steps and fetches the glass vial from his pocket, placing on the desk gingerly. 

“Master,” he says, bowing his head respectfully. “I bring to you the Singing Waters, in hopes this might alleviate the transgressions of my past.” 

***

It’s only fitting that, a week later, the sun is setting by the time he reaches the docks in the Pious Ward and finds his way to the ship. 

The door of the captain’s cabin is half open when he gets there. He stops outside for a moment, taking in a shaky breath before stepping inside. 

Nezumi is standing next to his desk. Slanted beams of light come through the window, catching on his hair the side of his neck.

This time, when he thinks beautiful , the word blossoms painlessly in his chest. 

“How did it go?” Nezumi asks.

“It’s—they approved it. There’re a lot of questions they want to ask, still, but… it worked.”

Nezumi’s shoulders drop slightly and his mouth curves upward. “What about your mother?”

“That’s part of it. I think… I think by the end of the week I’ll get to see her.” 

He feels breathless. Nezumi drops his gaze for a second.

“She’ll be happy.” 

“Yes.”

A pause. 

Nezumi looks up. “And you?” 

“What about me?”

“Are you happy?” 

Shion smiles even though something in him hurts. “Yes. But I would be happier if you could stay.”

Nezumi chuckles, shaking his head. “I was afraid you would say something like that.”

“Afraid?” 

“Mmm… because, you see—” he says, taking the three steps that keep them apart. “It’d be foolish to pretend I wouldn’t like the same thing.”

Nezumi's palm presses against his cheek and Shion leans into it, closing his eyes. 

The Gods are cruel , Nezumi said back in the cave. Shion’s inclined to agree now, as the warmth of the afternoon slowly fades to give room to the night.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, afraid he’ll choke on the words if he doesn’t let them go now.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye” 

“Who said anything about a goodbye?” Nezumi asks in a whisper. Shion opens his eyes to find his gaze on him. “I’ll return. I have some business to take of and a crew that needs me, but I’ll be back.”

Shion frowns, if only to mock him a little. “Isn’t that what all the sailors say?”

Nezumi laughs and leans in to place a kiss on Shion’s forehead. “But I’m a rather unique sailor, wouldn’t you agree?” 

And then he tilts his head just enough for Shion to whisper a soft yes against his lips. He leans into him, hoping a kiss could linger indefinitely, relishing the feeling of fingers gently carding through his hair. 

“I’ll be back,” Nezumi whispers once more against his lips. “I promise.”

And Shion knows this to be true, the same way he knows the sun will rise again and the stars will shine this night, he knows . 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

*** 

Three months later, he sits on an empty bench on the docks of the Pious Ward, holding his winter cloak close. Back at home, Karan waits with a blueberry pie and a lit fireplace. Rikiga is probably already on his way.  

Here, he waits with an open heart and happiness blooming in his chest. 

The cold wind blows softly and the waves crest and crash gently against the pier. There are ships in the distance, some approaching, some leaving. 

He’s not sure how he notices it but he does, instantly. It’s not the same ship he grew accustomed to, but he wasn’t expecting it to be. 

He walks up to the edge of the pier, needing to be sure. 

A few minutes later, he’s able to make out the name of the ship, painted with swirling letters on its side. It’s written in Laidoan and it reads “ Aster’s kiss ”. 

He laughs, the cold forgotten, and even though the waves drown the sound, he knows he holds the happiness of a promise fulfilled and a love returned. 

He's finally back.