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Fall festivals boldly announce the changing of the seasons in Hoshido. In his hometown of Igasato, no expense was spared in celebrating the turning of leaves and a bountiful harvest. Color is the main theme of the festivities: vibrant cloths imported from neighboring villages decorate stalls serving hot Hoshidan treats.
And so too do the attendees follow the spirit of the festival. Kaze had donned a modest green yuka with a purple obi.
By his side, Xander stumbled clumsily, tightening his grip on Kaze’s shoulder. “Incredible that Hoshido could develop footwear that rivals clogs in difficulty of use,” Xander mumbles, taking a moment to recollect himself. It had been a challenge in and of itself to get Xander to dress for the occasion as Xander quoted misgivings of disrespecting delicate Hoshidan dresswear with his ‘brutish’ Nohrian body. Such a notion was ridiculous, of course; Xander had only the utmost respect for Kaze’s homeland. Kaze suspected that a Hoshidan desire to save face may be playing a larger role than Xander had let on.
“You’re doing great, my love,” Kaze comforts, “Though I fear I may lose my arm should you continue using me for support.” The vice lightens.
“Sorry.” Xander gathers a calming breath and relaxes his grip.
They continue down the main path, admiring the joy of parents and children alike. They take in the sounds of performers playing old love ballads on the koto and shamisen and smell diverse baked goods in the shape of cute animals. The last time Kaze had been at this festival was his seventh birthday, he remembered, but the reality of being here with Xander far trumped his childhood memories.
“I’m glad we could take this trip,” he comments. “And that you could see what Igasato has to offer with your own eyes.”
“It’s beautiful,” answers his husband. “I believe we must take some souvenirs back for Elise. She would love a cat statue, certainly.”
Continuing their stroll, they arrive at the main square. “Igasato’s shrine,” Kaze explains, “As you undoubtedly noticed when we arrived, a dense forest surrounds Igasato. Here we honor the deity that keeps us protected from the outside. She blesses our clan with their stealth and expertise, or so it is said.” Kaze had more belief in the former than the latter.
A moment of reverence from Xander, taking in the scene and the intricate designs of the shine’s engravings.
“And that booth?” Xander asks.
Kaze follows Xander’s gaze towards a small gathering of people at a booth. “That is where one can divine one’s own fortune, without the assistance of an onmyoji,” Kaze answers with a light smile. “Would you like to try?”
Kaze senses some trepidation from Xander, though its cause he cannot discern. “I’d like to.”
Joining the crowd, Kaze directs Xander to pick up a hexagonal box. “Shake it until a straw falls out. That represents your own effect on destiny.” Xander does so, dutifully shaking it until one drops on the table. “Seventy-three. And that must lead you to the box of the same number,” Xander deduces. Kaze hums in approval.
Opening the drawer labeled 73, Xander takes a piece of paper, frowning when he realizes the obvious conundrum. Uncountable Hoshidan characters are written on the page, their elegant forms joining together to form a veritable army of indiscernible meaning. “You’ll need to translate. And do not spare my feelings.”
“I would never,” Kaze teases. Taking the paper, he reads: “Good blessing. She looks favorably upon you this season. You will find great success in business, if you work with a moderate hand and tempered hand. In love, she finds you need no additional help.” Kaze finds himself agreeing. “And in health, she sees no setbacks, should you continue to respect your body.”
“Is that what it says? You aren’t hiding a bad fortune to appease me?” Xander replies. He sounds serious, but Kaze knows better of his husband.
“I would never. Of course you would get a good fortune.”
Kaze hands it back to Xander. “There is yet one more step to the tradition.”
But Xander does not move. “And your fortune? Will you not divine your own fate?”
Kaze pauses.
“I think I will not.”
“Why not?”
And so Kaze is trapped, in a way only Xander could do.
“I will pull a bad fortune,” Kaze states matter-of-factly, though not with as much confidence as he would have liked. “Come.”
Xander pauses, debating whether to press the topic – but ultimately does not.
Kaze brings Xander to a young maple tree in the center of the courtyard, decorated with papers just like Xander’s. “When one pulls a bad fortune, it is said that tying it to this tree helps grant your wishes… though in your case, it is not necessary. You can keep it, and it may help guide you in the future.”
“I will treasure it,” Xander replies.
They continue their visit of the festival, letting themselves be enticed by freshly fried fish on a stick, or perhaps by the sheen of a candied apple.
–
As the evening progresses, so does the busyness of the festival decline, allowing for moments of just each other’s company.
“Do you believe in preordained fate?” asks Xander, a suddenly serious topic broaching the afterglow of the festivity’s soft pleasure.
It is a difficult question, and one Kaze treats with respect.
Kaze mulls it over even as he speaks. “I believe… in fate. One’s life has a start and an ending, and many factors are determined at such a start.” The color of one’s eyes, hair, royal status… “Is it so strange to think one’s end could be predetermined as well? Orochi seems quite convinced,” is Kaze’s attempt at injecting levity into the conversation.
“And you believe your fate is predetermined to be unfortunate?”
Kaze knows Xander does not mean it, but those words cut sharper than Siegfried could.
He shifts, struggling to put an incorporeal train of thoughts on his life’s progression into words.
He can only manage one sentence. “I am unlucky.”
Xander, unfortunately, does not toss him a lifeline. So Kaze must elaborate.
“Even from the beginning. I was born the second to the heir of my clan. Mere minutes separated us, said my mother.” Kaze respects her and her memory with a brief pause.
“And to be born into a profession as dishonorable as a ninja no less… There are quite many lives I would call more fortunate.” Xander frowns in protest, but keeps quiet. “I caused the death of King Sumeragi. I was caught by Nohr and sentenced to execution. And if you would not believe me, then perhaps you would believe Orochi and her sacred divination, or the countless omikuji I’ve pulled in my childhood… I am unlucky.”
It’s a pitiful story, one that brought him shame. But it was a simple fact of Kaze’s life. “Perhaps I was cursed at inception,” Kaze jokes, peering over at his love, who’s wearing an unexpected scowl.
“Cursed at inception?” Xander’s tone is nearly incredulous, a rough bite tempered by public decorum. “Kaze, there is nothing further from the truth. You have forged your own path– made your own choices that lead you here, with me. Is that so unlucky? Were you cursed with the misfortune of serving the Hoshidan royal family? Unfortunate to be born with a face so fair it is admired by all who may gaze upon it?
Xander takes a moment to reorganize his thoughts. “Every person has the power to change their fate, so long they are brave enough to fight for it. And you have shown that you have that power, Kaze. You helped reunite our countries. You saved Corrin with your own two hands. If anything, we are lucky to have you, Kaze. I am lucky to have you.
Kaze is unsettled by Xander’s heartfelt lecture – it continues to be difficult to hear such praise about oneself, even coming from one’s spouse.
Xander stands with a confidence that does not agree with his accustomedness to Hoshidan footwear. “Come, Kaze,” Xander directed, using the authority of a Nohrian king and husband, “I will show you that you have changed your fate.” A hand is extended towards Kaze.
Kaze hesitates, but knows it is impossible to change Xander’s mind when he’s like this. Without a word, he lets Xander guide him back to the shrine, to the box Kaze had shunned but hours ago. A brief shake reveals a single lot. “Twenty-two.”
The boxes containing his fortune seem much further than they had appeared earlier today. The prospect of disappointing Xander was unappealing, but Xander looked on with such determination that Kaze could not flee.
His heart weighed heavy as he pulled open the drawer and took the top sheet. For a moment, he dare not read its contents – until Xander comes to take his hand, a wordless affirmation of Xander’s conviction.
Kaze reads, appearing expressionless as he discerns his fate.
“...Well?” Xander’s peering, but cannot make out any result.
Kaze smiles. “Daikichi. I am lucky.”