Chapter Text
It's silly.
War, that is.
A good leader cares about their people, and sending those people to their deaths for a selfish cause is not a mark of a good one. It's unfortunate that Inazuma's leaders are limited to its clans, then you're stuck with stubborn old fools whose greed overtakes all moral values. Ayato acknowledges that he has more than benefited from this system of nepotism, but he has no qualms against abolishing it, even if it meant that he would lose all this luxury too. After all, he has seen better leaders in the common people, oni included, than most of the prestigious clans combined, and it would put him at ease that the nation is mostly in good hands.
Still, it is all just a far-fetched dream, and Ayato envies Mondstadt's freedom and Liyue's unity all the more because of it.
"Ayato."
The harsh reality is that Inazuma is close to war. With the unexplained absence of their shogun, Kujou Takayuki arrogantly took over the country's general affairs, claiming that his clan was the most loyal, thus the most deserving. The clans tolerated it at first, especially since no one wanted to bear the burden. But power changed people, and the Kujou clan wanted more. Settling at the shogun's seat during meetings, barging in on territories without prior notice, and commanding forces that are not under the jurisdiction, who knows what else they're up to behind the scenes?
"Ayato."
Ayato snapped his head up, meeting his father’s eyes.
He has not taken a single bite off of his meal.
"Sorry. I was... distracted." Ayato's brow furrowed even further, questions about Inazuma's inner conflicts circling in his mind. It seems uncouth to bring up politics in the middle of dinner, but curiosity is a deadly enemy. "Dad, do you know anything about Kujou Taka—"
"It is not I who you should be apologizing to for not eating your food." His father interrupted with a smile, gesturing his head towards the other occupant in the room. We'll discuss this later, the action signaled. "Right, Furuta?"
Ayato frowned but nodded in reply. He could be patient, as long as his questions will be answered.
"Indeed." Furuta approached from behind. "But it is not I who you should be apologizing to either. Someone else was in charge of dinner for today."
"Oh?” His father smiled cheekily. “Do tell us their name. I'm not sure who it is, but I think Ayato would love to pay them a visit later on."
Ayato stared at the expression on his father's face. What is he up to? He thought, sipping on his miso soup and narrowing his stare in suspicion. We’ve never visited a home for something as trivial as this, and I hate small talk. Is he just teasing me?
The soup was still warm as it settled in his stomach. Its flavors were at odds with their usual simplistic meals, but it’s a welcome change. The urge to lay down in bed after the day's exhausting events grew considerably by the second.
"Perhaps Ayaka is more suited for such a job?" Ayato managed a reply through the sleepy haze that came over him. "I am no less thankful for the food, of course, but I believe Ayaka will convey our sentiments more sincerely."
"Perhaps," Furuta acknowledged, "but young lady Ayaka is out with your mother tonight, and I imagine that Thoma would be quite upset that it isn't young master Ayato at his doorstep."
Ayato choked on the soup halfway down his throat.
His father—his dear, merciless father continued the assault despite his dilemma. "Well, Ayaka could always visit tomorrow. I'm sure Ayato needs a break after all his duties today." His father sighed exaggeratedly. "Though I can't imagine how disappointed Thoma will be. I heard that he's been working hard for weeks to cook a proper meal, especially for you." His father winked at him, no longer bothering to keep up his act.
You said you didn’t know the cook’s name, Ayato internally seethed, heaving short dry coughs.
“Oh, dear. Was it something I said?” Furuta fussed.
He took a moment to put himself together, straightening his back and taking the glass of water handed to him, not wanting to seem too eager. When he finally settled in, he said: "I'll go."
Furuta and his father shared a look, but Ayato pretended not to notice. The situation was humiliating enough already.
"Your father is right, you need some rest. Are you sure you’re willing to go?" Furuta asked.
"I am not as tired as I appear to be,” A lie. “And I have a few things to discuss with Thoma about housekeeping.” Also a lie. “I’d also like to thank him for the meal, as father said earlier.” A truth just to throw them off. “So I’m sure.”
If Ayaka was here, she would have gawked at his shamelessness, but Ayato didn’t care. He would have sneaked out to see Thoma regardless. At least, with the blessing of his father, he would not risk the possibility of getting caught and punished for it.
“Then you better start eating before the food gets too cold,” Furuta said.
Under the watchful eyes of his father, Ayato picked up his chopsticks and examined his meal with newfound wonder. It was at his father's request that their meals were scheduled and simple, so he could not identify anything different at first glance; tamagoyaki, miso soup, rice, salmon, and pickled radish.
But, Ayato started as he took a bite of bits combined, it's different.
The salmon is saltier, the rice is slightly overcooked, and the tamagoyaki's layers were uneven. He wasn’t aware about the history behind this meal then, but he could tell that even the miso soup he had earlier was also different.
I heard that he's been working hard for weeks to cook a proper meal, especially for you.
Especially for you.
Especially for you.
Ayato wished Thoma told him about it. He would have canceled his whole schedule to be with Thoma as he cooks. As Thoma worked the stove, he'd eat the discarded dishes and listen to Thoma's anecdotes, just the two of them together from the rose-pink light of dawn to the quiet of the night. Although he loved his family and everything he grew up with, the simple thought of time with Thoma felt more like home than anything in the world.
As Ayato got lost in his daydreams, his body moved automatically, scooping and chewing until he was eating nothing but thin air.
Amused, his father reached out to still his wrist. “You finished already.”
Ayato slowly looked down at his clean bowls—not even a grain of rice left in sight—and wiped off his mouth with a napkin to cover the heat rising on his cheeks.
“I wonder what’s on your mind?”
His father chuckled, hand gently squeezing his wrist—a small gesture of affection—then beckoned for Furuta. They both bowed and uttered their thanks as she took their dishes away. Only when she finally left did his father speak again.
“Kujou Takayuki… was it?”
“Who?” Ayato replied without a thought before startling in realization. “Right. Of course. Head of the Kujou Clan. That Kujou Takayuki.” Ayato patiently waited for his father to continue, but one look at his dad’s raised brow told him that he was waiting for a question from Ayato.
And well, only one name occupied Ayato’s thoughts at the moment, and it was no longer Kujou Takayuki.
“What about him?” A hint of a smile grew on his father’s face. “Am I missing something?” The smile grew further. “Dad.”
“It’s nothing,” his father waved off. The skin around his eyes crinkled from the size of his smile. “I was simply trying to recall his name, that's all. Now, would you look at the time? I suggest you be off to visit your friend before your mother brings up your curfew." At this, he reached out to ruffle the tuff of Ayato’s hair. "Chiba will accompany you."
“Thoma is a friend,” Ayato grumbled. “And I’m old enough to go on my own.”
“Not in my eyes,” his father said as he got up from his seat. “You’re going with supervision. No negotiations.” He paused as if in deep thought. “Well, not until you have a vision.”
Ayato sighed but ultimately gave up on independence. I should have sneaked out instead.
“I almost forgot!” His father was already at the door when he exclaimed. “Do yourself a favor and bring a gift with you. It's always worked on your mother. Don't bother combing your hair either, they usually like the windswept look.”
“Dad! You—”
He was gone before Ayato could get another word in.
Ayato ended up bringing a box of dango, courtesy of Furuta, and foregoing a hair brush. He refused to give any credit to his father.
It’s not like he’s trying to keep his attraction to Thoma a secret, Ayato just wished his family stopped teasing him about it, especially in front of Thoma himself. He had plans, okay? Plans of a slow and steady courtship, so he’d prefer it if no one butted in lest they ruin it all.
A lifetime, Ayato reassured himself. I have a whole lifetime to do what I need to.
But first on the list: dango.
The door opened. Someone gasped, then—
“My lord!”
Ayato stumbled backwards as Thoma’s body clashed against his, both arms wrapping around the other’s waist. Their sudden proximity made Ayato’s heart soar, and he unconsciously tightened his hold around Thoma because of it.
I love you, he thought as Thoma’s arms wrapped around his neck. His scent was both homely and intoxicating.
“What are you doing here?” Thoma pushed Ayato back by the shoulders, giving him a once-over. Not wanting to lose contact, Ayato’s hands lingered. “Aren’t you tired? It’s so late!”
“I just wanted to see you.”
“You always say that.”
I want to pinch his cheeks, Ayato thought, doing just that. Much to his amusement, Thoma squirmed further away. “And it is always true.”
“So you say.”
Ayato loved the evenings for the sense of intimacy it brings—the sun is often unforgiving and the indoors are suffocating. But at night, he gets to see this: the brilliance of Thoma’s smile highlighted by the warm light of the lantern hanging over his doorstep. Ayato’s own sun under the moonlight.
Someone cleared his throat behind Ayato. He turned his head to the right to face Chiba, who was holding up the box of dango with a sheepish smile as a reminder. Unnecessary, really. Ayato chose to ignore the other’s presence, but he was still conscious of it.
Thoma was the complete opposite. “Chiba! I didn’t know you came along. What brings you so far from the agency? You don't usually bring a guard…” he mumbled the last part to Ayato, who placed one arm around Thoma’s waist once more but didn’t reply. Telling Thoma about his very much illegal breakouts is unwise, and Chiba seemed to agree, if his raised eyebrow was any indication.
“A friend wanted me to take over his shift. I owed him a favor.”
The way Chiba eyed the place they were connected did not go unnoticed. Ayato could not tell if it was one of judgment or simple curiosity. Still, he did not let go. It’s always been a problem. No matter how many times Thoma reminded him of the time or things to do, Ayato struggled to part from him. Never visibly, of course. His face was trained to remain passive, and though he truly isn’t trying to hide his affections, it is a comfort to know that Thoma is oblivious to it. He doubted that he’d be allowed to touch Thoma like this otherwise.
“What is that?” Thoma asked, pointing at the box Chiba held.
Too lost in thought, Ayato did not think to speak up.
“It’s dango. A gift from—”
“You brought me dango?” Thoma stretched his hands out and wiggled his fingers in excitement. All his boyish charms on display. Chiba, as if in a daze (Ayato knew the feeling), handed it over. “You really didn’t need to, Chiba, but thank you! I was craving the whole night, but the walk to the store was too far.”
Ayato snapped his attention towards the box, then to the guard. When their eyes met, he narrowed his own.
“We should eat this together then. Would you both like to come in?” Thoma shook the box and frowned. “Huh, it’s kind of light.”
Ayato broke off the staring contest with his opponent. They both started to clear up the confusion at the same time.
“Not to say that Chiba isn’t an honorable man, but this box is actually from…”
“I’d love to buy you some dango another day, Thoma. But the young master was the one…”
Both their voices slowly faded away as Thoma revealed the contents of the box.
Don’t rush, young master, and remember that it’s the box with the red ribbon. Ayato suddenly remembered Furuta’s words, but it was too late. He immediately headed to the kitchens after dinner with his father, Chiba hurrying after him, and he did not realize that he picked up the wrong box until this moment. He grabbed the one with a orange ribbon, not the red, but he was more mortified that the box was filled with—
Slime secretions.
Dango-shaped slime secretions.
Ayato had no idea such things existed. He was mortified while observing Thoma’s reaction. Its slimy and sticky properties often made people shiver in disgust, and to think that it was offered to be eaten like his favorite dango? In the formalities of court, such a gesture would be considered an insult and not at all appropriate for courtship. In fact, the same scenario happened to his great-great-great granduncle, who was poisoned by the woman he favored a week after the incident. Though not proven, Ayato was sure that it was murder.
Chiba must have sensed his panic, for he rushed to cover for him. “I apologize it was— Well, it was not — What I meant was that—”
“How fascinating… It seems I still have a lot to learn from Inazuma after all.” The two watched in horror as Thoma held up a stick, turned it around, and bit into one of the pieces. “I didn’t realize dango came in this flavor.”
The fact that Thoma doesn’t even know what he’s chewing on makes it worse. But even then, its appearance alone is enough to make a grown man puke, how is Thoma immune? How is he swallowing? And why is he taking another bite?!
“Because it’s delicious! You should try one, my lord.” Thoma offered the third and last piece of the stick to Ayato, who unconsciously blurted his thoughts out loud. They looked like a lovey-dovey couple, with Ayato wrapped around Thoma while the latter attempted to feed him with a grin. “It’s quite chewy, so you might have to work your mouth a bit.”
That brought his gaze to Thoma’s lips. The translucent snack stretched and stuck to the other’s teeth, leaving strings of it on display every time Thoma opened his mouth. Ayato really wished he could turn his brain off for a few minutes to prevent a thought that crossed his mind—one so filthy that his father would tease him to death if it was aired out. He was a healthy teenage boy and no stranger to vulgar thoughts, but as he recalled a drunken conversation between two citizens about head and swallowing and how it was so good and lips around inappropriate parts that shouldn’t be talked about in public, he broke.
“Tho…ma.” Ayata winced at his voice crack. “I’d love to eat with you, but I’m more exhausted than I thought.”
As expected, Thoma fretted. “My lord, why didn’t you say so? You didn’t have to go through all the trouble. We see each other everyday! Here, wait a second.” Thoma stepped back into his quarters, coming back in and out in a blink. “A talisman for sweet dreams, and another for a good night’s sleep. Oh! This. What was this again…? Ah yes, a drink for sore throats. It’s surprisingly sweet for its medicinal properties, and I bought it immediately after knowing that. You need it for how long you have to keep up with everyone’s concerns and meetings…”
Thoma kept going on and on while Ayato hung on to his every word. He long had to let go of his hold around Thoma to accommodate all the gifts Thoma gave him, the stack on his arms piling up by the second.
To think I was about to give him the wrong box of dango, Ayato thought as Thoma listed down the ten different uses of a sakura blossom concoction. Not for the first time, his thoughts and decisions made him feel guilty. He deserves more than that. I can do more than that. His father was right about that.
When Thoma finally bid him goodnight, squeezing his forearm with a look that said get some sleep, Ayato remained by the door, wishing for more.
“You,” he said to Chiba after a long moment of silence, losing his animosity with the other man. “Thank you for your help, but I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about tonight.”
“Not a word about what, young lord? I saw nothing noteworthy.”
“Good.”
“If it’s of any help, he’s as fond of Inazuma accessories as he is about the food. Stalls around the agency profit ten times more when he’s around to advertise. It’s not even his job.”
“Did you say something?”
Chiba smiled. “Nothing, young lord.”