Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You really were the best person for the job,” God says to Alhaitham on the last day of his formal tenure as Acting Grand Sage. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to keep doing it for a little longer?”

This visit, as unscheduled as it was, was not unexpected. Even now, as Alhaitham packs away the last of his meagre belongings into a box to take back to his Scribe’s office, he only gives a short glance to Lord Kusanali in acknowledgment of her presence before returning to the wholly engaging task of maximising the available volume of his box. 

The tiny archon’s Shaymin is dozing in her arms, and she smooths a hand absently over its grassy fur as she watches him pack. 

“With all due respect, I’m just a simple scribe. I don’t believe I’m at all qualified for the job.” He replies, as though he hasn’t been clocking into it for the past few months and been so competent at it that he had been nearly assassinated for it. 

The Dendro Archon only smiles at him, her eyes curving up into half-moons. She tilts her head slightly, and huffs out a quiet puff of laughter. 

“Ah, pity.” She says, a touch rueful. “Well, at least I can say I tried.”

Both of them knew that there was no other answer that he could have replied with. He’s been certain that he has made no effort to hide how much he disliked the position, with an exception to the increased salary it granted him, but even then, he was more than glad to be rid of it. Even in the past few days alone, his palpable relief to finally return to being the Scribe had had Kaveh commenting on his unusually good mood — something that was only usually reserved to finding a particularly good read hidden away in a dusty corner of the House of Daena.

“I’m sure that whoever you’ve decided to instate as the new Grand Sage will do a far better job than I ever will.” 

This, of course, is another seemingly simple statement that has far greater meaning to it. He knows who the new Grand Sage is; he helped her pick them out from a shortlist that he created, after all. And yet, somehow, as with many other occasions that they’ve been working together in the past few months, it still comes down to this game of more-than-truths that they play together. Things that are objectively true, but don’t speak to the full depth of whatever they’re discussing. 

“Ah, yes, I suppose so,” she replies, pausing, and the hand brushing over the Shaymin’s fur slows. “Still, I’d like to personally extend my thanks to you for the past few months. Sumeru would have been a great deal worse off without you.”

“It’s not necessary. I did what was required, and now that it’s done, I’ll simply go back to doing what I was doing before. It makes no difference to me.”

And quite frankly, Alhaitham hopes it stays that way. 

One coup is already one too many, in his opinion, and that wasn’t even considering the amount of effort he had spent putting into dealing with the fallout - which was more than he should have had to spend in the first place. 

All in all, it’s an experience he would rather not repeat. If he had to take part in another coup for whatever reason, he’d make Kaveh do it instead, seeing as he’s always complaining about how Alhaitham doesn’t do anything unless it benefits him. Then they’d see how he likes being caught up in all sorts of nonsense without being consulted first. 

“Alhaitham, I have a gift for you,” Lord Kusanali says suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts. “It’s— well, let’s just say it’s a token of my appreciation for your work as Acting Grand Sage.”

He pauses then, and he sets aside the book he had been flipping through absently to look down at the archon. 

In the time between when he had last glanced up to now, the Shaymin in her arms had been replaced with an ornately carved wooden box inlaid with gold filigree. That very same Shaymin now flits at her elbow in its sky form, sniffing curiously at the box. 

She sets it down on the empty desk and feels for a catch at the side, flipping open the lid. 

“… What are these?”

The contents are… unexpected, so to speak. 

“Whilst organising some of the previous administration’s relic archives, I found these sitting on a shelf, completely sealed,” she begins. “From what I can tell, they’re symbols of protection.” 

Symbols of protection, as Alhaitham has found in the past, either turn out to largely be scams or never as effective as his Vision and a few swings of his sword, or even a blast of psychic power from a fully trained Metagross. 

If it had been anyone else offering it to them, he would have rather bluntly turned them down, but seeing as it was a gift from a god, there was hardly anything he could say about it. 

He was already pushing his luck resigning from Acting Grand Sage as it was. He’s sure that she would keep him in that position permanently if she was able to. Really, it was a good thing that he was leaving it now before it was too late. 

“In any case, I’d like to give them to you. And your architect! There’s one for each of you,” she continues, stepping back slightly. 

Nestled inside the plush interior of the box are a pair of spherical stones. One white, and one black. At her nod of invitation, he lifts the white one out of the box and holds it up to the light, turning it over. His Pichu perks up from where she had been dozing on the Grand Sage’s chair behind him, and moves to jump up onto the desk where the other stone sits in the box, peering at it with twitching ears. 

As far as stones go, it’s fairly unremarkable. There aren’t any scratches on it, and it shines with a dull lustre. It isn’t particularly big either, and he’s sure that it could fit into his belt pouch along with the rest of his pokéballs if he wanted to take it with him.

The examination of the black stone goes in much the same way, and it isn’t until after he’s done turning them both under the light that he turns his attention back to Lord Kusanali, who had watched his entire appraisal wordlessly. 

“There’s something you aren’t telling me about these stones, isn’t there,” he says more than he asks, but she only smiles, clasping her hands together again. 

“I’d hate to provide conjecture for what might prove to be a baseless claim,” she replies, shaking her head slightly. “I do have some theories, but nothing concrete.”

At that, he only stares at her, and she laughs, stepping forward to close the lid of the box with a gentle click. She scratches under Pichu’s chin, earning a happy chirp from the little electric-type, before she glances back to Alhaitham. 

“Alright, let’s think of it this way. The seeds of the henna berry plant are in the fruit itself, but they have no way of germinating elsewhere unless something separates it from the plant and carries it elsewhere. I have a hypothesis, but no way to test it. The henna berry plant will continue to grow, but its seeds will not take root elsewhere without an external force.  This is what I’d like to ask of, and entrust, to you.”

The metaphor isn’t completely inaccurate, he thinks. But it also feels like a trap. He doesn’t know what the purpose of her giving him these stones are, and he’s not entirely that keen on taking on more work than he has to, even if it was given to him by a god. Especially if it was given to him by a god. 

It wouldn’t be anything dangerous. She’s far too a careful and kind god for that, but that doesn’t mean she’s not calculating, and there is definitely an ulterior motive to her gift… if it could even be called that. Still…

“What makes you so confident I’d be able to sufficiently test it?”

At this, she breaks out into a wide grin, eyes sparkling. 

“Of all people, it’s you, isn’t it?” She says with an absolute certainty that only a god could have. “You are a scholar of Sumeru, just as everyone else who walks through these halls. Here is a relic of the past, a mystery that requires unravelling. Let yourself be curious, and let yourself follow the path to where it leads. It is as much a challenge as it is a gift, and I find that for some, the delight comes from their moment of enlightenment.”

She sets her hands on her hips, looking ahead at him confidently. Even without reading his mind, he’s certain that she knows what his answer will be. 

What a troublesome god.

“Keep the stones with you, Alhaitham. Simply do as you normally do, but if you must begin with a question, then I’ll remind you of your own words — What are these? 

“I, for one, look forward to witnessing your answer.”

The front door is already unlocked by the time Alhaitham gets back, which means that Kaveh either came home early or didn’t leave the house at all today. He hadn’t mentioned his plans for the day in the morning, nor had Alhaitham actually seen him, for that matter. It wasn’t something that was completely unusual; Kaveh had, on more than one occasion, worked on some project or another from dusk til dawn and passed out at his desk, oversleeping past breakfast. 

He’s already running somewhat late - he should have been home at least forty five minutes ago. It wasn’t as if he was particularly trying to keep the news of him resigning as Acting Grand Sage secret, but it blew up farm more than necessary thanks to the Akademiya’s overly active rumour mill. 

Just as he was about to leave, he was bombarded with an onslaught of colleagues saying everything from thanks to begging him to stay to congratulations, and maybe what might have been one person cursing him out. At that point he had turned up the noise cancelling on his headphones and promptly left, with Pichu gleefully shocking anyone that got too close. 

He toes off his shoes at the door, locks it behind him, and drops his key in the bowl in the entryway as he heads further in, Pichu already scampering ahead in search of her customary after work-before-dinner snack.  She would probably find it. There was the smell of something cooking in the air, a faint trace of something spiced that Kaveh had probably taken on the duty of making. 

“Ah, Haitham, you’re back? Come here. One of the aunties from the market gave me a new blend of chai to try that she absolutely swears by, and I’ve just finished making some now, let me know what you thi—“

Kaveh rounds the corner with an apron on, his hair tied back and what seems to be a long spoon in his hand, but stops dead in his tracks. His eyes immediately focus on the box in Alhaitham’s hands, and the line of his mouth twists into a slight scowl.

“ What is that ,” he says flatly, jabbing the spoon towards it. “Ugh, did you buy another tasteless decoration— no. To call the things you bring back decorations is far too generous. Well? Let’s see what abomination you’ve brought back this time. Go on, I’m waiting.”

The stones in the box could indeed be considered decorations if he wished to display them that way, but that was hardly their intended purpose, going by what Lord Kusanali had told him. Instead, he lets out a quiet, noncommittal hum as he slips past the man and into the living room, placing the box down on the table before moving off in the direction of the courtyard entrance. 

“Why must you immediately assume that the items I bring back are immediately an affront to your tastes? Or that they are decorations at all?” As is his daily routine, he releases both Braviary and Metagross out into the courtyard, the former taking off to stretch his wings while the latter lumbers over to its usual spot in the shade to doze off. Kaveh’s Reuniclus is already settled in a sunny spot along with Mehrak, the both of them doing some modelling for what must be Kaveh’s latest project. “Besides, Senior, you should know better than anyone that the value of aesthetics is subjective. Would I not be free to style our home as I please?”

By the time he heads back inside, Kaveh has set down the spoon he had been holding, though his apron is still on. He sits on the divan with his arms crossed, the box sitting on the table in front of him and two mugs of softly steaming chai next to it while Pichu nurses her own, appropriately sized one next to him. He rolls his eyes at Alhaitham’s response, waving a hand in annoyance. 

“Must you be so difficult? Taste may be subjective, but harmonious principles of design are not! There’s a difference between something looking bad, something looking out of place, and something that is both!” He sighs, crossing his arms. “Alright, open it up already. I’m done bracing myself.”

“Hm. See for yourself then.”

He takes a seat next to Kaveh, picking up the box off the table. He feels for the latch along the side, and pops it open, turning it in his hands so the contents face Kaveh. His eyes widen at first in surprise, then narrow thoughtfully. 

“… This is it?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Like Alhaitham had done earlier, Kaveh lifts one of the stones out of the box to take a closer look at it, turning it over a few times. His face scrunches up in a way that means he’s thinking, and after a moment, he shifts it from the black stone in his hands to look at Alhaitham instead. 

“Well, for one, it’s better than I expected,” he sniffs. “But it’s hard to mess up something so simple. Are they really only just stones? I don’t recognise this material.”

“Oh? So even this escapes the illustrious Light of Kshahrewar’s purview?”

He gets a light flick on the forehead and a disapproving look for his comment.

“Oh, be quiet, you,” Kaveh huffs. “It’s not like you can do any better, can you? Did Lord Kusanali really not tell you anything about these when she gave them to you?”

What she did tell him was disappointingly little, as she often did in her way of leading others to find answers for themselves. In that same way, it was frustrating how well she knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist the challenge she, and by extension, the stones pose to him as well. 

“Well, for one, they’re not decorative ornaments; they’re protective charms… apparently.”

Now that gets the response he expected. Kaveh snorts slightly, looking at him in slight disbelief. 

“Hah! Protective charms? Does she know who she gave them to?”

As someone who Alhaitham has criticised for buying far too many (and the main reason he thinks of protective charms as scams), he knows that Kaveh hardly agrees on his stance on them, as with many other things they disagree on. It’s… a comparatively minor one, especially considering the other things they don’t see eye to eye on, but it’s one that Alhaitham has commented on enough that Kaveh knows entirely what his response would have been in any normal circumstance. In this one, though…

He sighs. 

“She is a god, Kaveh. She clearly sees something about them that I don’t yet. And she specifically told me to make sure that you receive one as well.”

At this, Kaveh’s mouth falls open in clear shock. 

“M-Me? Why me?” He stammers. “How does she even know about me? I- I mean, we’ve never even met!”

“Is it so surprising that she does? Her being the archon of this land aside, you are also the most eminent graduate of the Kshahrewar in recent history. It would be more worrying if she did not know you.”

“Yes, well—“ Kaveh stops, and sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. This, of all things, Alhaitham finds rather pointless to be embarrassed about. It is an objective truth. Sumeru is the land of Dendro, Lord Kusanali is the God of Verdure and Wisdom, and Kaveh, Light of the Kshahrewar, is his darshan’s most distinguished graduate since the likes of Pir Kavikavus. A veritable and recognisable genius, even if Alhaitham doesn’t completely understand his ideals or his discipline, or if Kaveh himself refuses to acknowledge it. “Ah, forget it. If Lord Kusanali says so, then who am I to question her?”

He looks down at the black stone in his hand, which he had not put back in the box the entire time that they had been talking. 

“I… hm. I suppose I’ll take this one, then.”

Which left the white stone for Alhaitham. Fine by him. He closes the lid with a soft click, reaching for the now cooled mugs of chai on the table. He passes one to Kaveh before taking a sip of his own. It’s not half bad. Better than he could ever make it, though that isn’t something he particularly feels like admitting to Kaveh at the moment. Instead, he curls his hands around the mug, feeling the warmth spread through his fingertips. 

“Keep it safe. If she knew you were being careless with it, she would be disappointed in you, and in me for letting it happen. And that includes giving it away to someone.”

“Alright, fine, fine. If you have to mention this specifically, it must mean a lot to you. Who knows, maybe it’ll give me some luck…”

The last part is half muttered to himself, and Alhaitham doesn’t choose to comment on it. Perhaps at another time, he would have, but as it stands, even he can’t say for sure that Lord Kusanali’s gift will or won’t have that effect. It will just have to be something that only time can prove. 

As he downs the last of the chai, Kaveh nearly plucks the cup from his hands, standing back up. He smooths out the creases in his apron and huffs slightly. 

“Not that you asked, but I made Sabz Meat Stew for dinner, the way you like it. Congratulations on your demotion. What Lord Kusanali sees in you, I’ll never know. Now go and get cleaned up. I’ll start heating it up.”

There has never quite been a word to accurately describe what Alhaitham and Kaveh are to each other, exactly. 

At first, it had been classmates, and parallel to that, junior and senior. Somewhere in between that it had been friends, and then strangers, and finally roommates, but none of them were completely correct in their entirety. Even if they worked, they still felt reductive to the whole of the matter. 

They were too familiar to be strangers, too cautious of certain things to be friends — even putting aside the matter of that devastating thesis from years ago. Some days they would be fine, existing in a quiet harmony like two ships tied together at a dock, trees in a forest standing tall and reaching for the sky. 

But some days, it wasn’t like that at all. Those days were dark storm clouds of crackling thunder and forest fire ready to be set alight at any moment — walking through a patch of desert where an entire colony of wenuts lay beneath the shifting sands that was their existence. 

The fact of the matter though, was that for the most part, they were two people who by all accounts and purposes should have no reason to get along or interact at all, but their lives still fit against each other far too comfortably. 

This house, pressed up against part of the Divine Tree’s trunk where there was a natural hollow big enough for two fully evolved flying-types to roost, a courtyard big enough for Alhaitham’s not yet fully evolved future Metagross, a spacious study with plenty of natural lighting — as much as Kaveh had refused its hospitality in the beginning, there was no escaping the fact that it had been designed for the both of them in mind, and that in the end, he found his way there anyway. 

Within a week of moving in, Kaveh had already begun heckling him about how the decorations didn’t match, about how he left his books everywhere, about how he should buy this brand of pokémon feed because it was healthier for psychic types, which, somehow, between the two of them, they were abundant in. It was so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. 

Both Braviary and Pichu liked him. It was hard for them not to. The former had always liked Kaveh ever since their Akademiya days, when he was still only a Rufflet and Kaveh would take the time to groom both him and his own Pidgeotto’s feathers after classes. Pichu liked whoever could give her tasty snacks to eat, and it seemed that it wasn’t only pokémon that were affected by Baby-Doll Eyes. Metagross was neutral at most, but neutrality was still far better than the indifferent disregard that it showed to everyone and everything that wasn’t Alhaitham, its teammates, and a battle against an opponent that actually let it push itself for once. 

So. 

One week after Lord Kusanali gifts him the stones, Kaveh makes biryani for dinner. Sometime after the first few days, Alhaitham’s coworkers had seemed to finally get the idea that he wanted to be left in peace, and stopped bothering him after he clocked out.  

As a result, he finally gets to start going home on time once more, and not a moment too soon. 

“The Akademiya Extravaganza is coming up again.”

The more work he has to do at his actual job, the more he wants to enjoy his off the clock hours at home. Really, it’s just his luck that he leaves behind the workload of the Acting Grand Sage straight into preparation for the Akademiya’s next big event. Whatever thoughts he had about the stones possibly being a good luck charm, he certainly did not keep any longer. 

The way Kaveh brings up the topic is with a cautious tone, more of a statement than a question. It feels like one of those days — where something small could blow up into something big, and both of them would be left licking their wounds afterwards. 

(It had been like this on the day they had The Fight too.)

Alhaitham pauses, lowering his spoon. He looks at Kaveh, raising an eyebrow. 

“And? If you were hoping to get some insider knowledge on the planned events, I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” he says. “Senior or not, I don’t compromise my integrity that easily.”

The reaction he gets is instantaneous; Kaveh bristles, a Qwilfish with its spikes puffed out. 

“Alhaitham, you—! That wasn’t what I was going to say, and you know it! Can you not put words in my mouth for once?”

But just as fast as he puffs up, he deflates, waving a hand exasperatedly. 

“Ah, never mind, never mind. The Kshahrewar nominated me to be their representative, so naturally, I was wondering if you intend on representing Haravatat.”

The thought of that, frankly, was absurd. 

Maybe once, when he was younger, Alhaitham would have entertained the thought. If Senior Kaveh was competing, then surely he should too, as intellectual equals. No matter who won, there would still be a place for their debates. Surely, as the best their darshans had to offer, there could be no greater stage than this for them to argue their views. 

But as he is now, there is absolutely nothing to gain from it. 

Not the monetary prize, not the recognition it could bring to Haravatat. Kaveh would be the first to say that he had no pride for his darshan, and he wasn’t completely wrong in that sense in that he found the majority of its student and teaching body hardly worth paying attention to… which is to say, it was no wonder that the only other person who was able to capture his attention during school wasn’t even from Haravatat. 

He especially doesn’t care for the recognition it could bring to his name. There had been enough of that during his time as Acting Grand Sage, and he’s still dealing with the fallout from that too. For some reason, even though the new Grand Sage has made numerous public appearances since their appointment, there is still a minimum of three or four proposals or people coming to his office asking him for approval for things he doesn’t have the authority to approve. 

Besides, he has other duties to attend to during the proceedings. 

“Is that something that matters to you? Are our ongoing debates through academic papers and bulletin boards not enough for you, that you seem to want to pit yourself against me in this way too?”

Kaveh leans forward, and the edge of his sleeve nearly ends up in his dinner. 

“So you are competing?” He all but demands, and the entire table jolts at his sudden movement. 

“Did I ever say that I was?” Alhaitham says mildly. “I’m not. Don’t put words in my mouth. And mind your sleeve.”

Kaveh jerks back his arm. His sleeve, thankfully, is free from biryani. Still, it doesn’t stop him from aiming a scowl in Alhaitham’s direction. 

“Alhaitham, you—!”

“Besides, I can’t anyway,” he cuts off Kaveh coolly. “I’ve got far too many other responsibilities during the event to even consider doing that.”

“Tch. Figures.” Kaveh sinks back down into his chair. “I don’t even know why I thought you would in the first place. There’s no way you’d do something as strenuous as enter a competition like this, nor would you even care about the prize money. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Well, yes. But there was no point in acknowledging that when they both knew that it was true. 

“If I did, then the reasons I would have to compete would be none of your business,” Alhaitham says instead, crossing his arms. 

“Good thing you aren’t then, because I wouldn’t care anyway.”

“Well, there’s no prizes for guessing what you’re hoping to gain out of competing. What do you intend to do with the prize money should you win?”

Because anyone with even the slightest amount of awareness of the situation could use basic deductive reasoning to figure out what Kaveh wanted from it. 

To pay off his debt to Dori. To gain recognition from the public, more than he already had, and to expand his clientele. 

To move out of this house.

“When I win, you mean?” Kaveh replies sharply. “The first thing I’ll do is throw a huge party and invite everyone except you, of course. Archons knows you’ll bring down the mood just by being near the premises. Then, with the rest, I’ll pay off the rest of my debts and find a place to move out to so you can finally stop complaining that I’m bothering you all the time.”

The idea of Kaveh moving out… is not one that Alhaitham has not previously thought about. It would be hard not to, with how often Kaveh brings it up of his own volition. It isn’t even a matter of being bothersome or not. 

He isn’t opposed to the idea, per se, but it also isn’t one that he’s certain would be wise. 

Would Kaveh benefit from moving out into a place of his own? Undoubtedly. Was he ready to do so? That was an entirely different question. 

“As long as that’s what you actually do instead of giving it out to the first person to come up to you on the street asking for a small loan to feed their family,” he ends up saying instead. “And the next one. And the one after that.”

Kaveh’s expression darkens, and Reuniclus warbles nervously from where he floats beside Kaveh. 

“You— Is it really so hard to believe that I can actually be responsible with my money? And what’s wrong with being charitable?!”

“I’ll start believing it when it starts becoming true. Are you sure that you even have enough to cover rent this month?”

Maybe this is what does it. A discordant screech echoes through the room as Kaveh’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands up suddenly, hands braced on the table as he stares down Alhaitham. Reuniclus’ warbling grows louder and more frantic. 

“I— I cannot believe you! First of all, you could stand to learn to care a little more about others! If it’s within my abilities to make their life a little easier, then why shouldn’t I? You don’t get to control what I do with my money! Do you understand how crazy that sounds?” Kaveh spits out. “Second of all, yes! I have enough for rent, you greedy bastard! I swear, you get paid enough as is, and you still want more? And for what? Ugly decorations?”

That was hardly the point Alhaitham wanted to make. 

“What do you owe those people, Kaveh? Why do you feel the need to put their needs before yours? For every person that genuinely needs help, there are five more waiting to take advantage of your foolish generosity.”

The plates and their silverware clatter as Kaveh slams his fist on the table in frustration. Pichu squeaks, ducking under the table to burrow into Alhaitham’s side. 

“You— Are you being serious! Would it kill you to see the good in other people for once? Alhaitham, this is why I can’t stand you sometimes! I’m done here.” He turns away, striding purposefully toward the front door. “I’m— I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me.”

He slams the door on his way out, and Reuniclus cringes back slightly, turning to Alhaitham with a helpless expression. 

He meets the psychic-type’s gaze evenly, before letting out a long sigh. 

Well.

That certainly could have gone better.

Every time something like this happens, he has to wait a few hours minimum before he can even start to think about looking for Kaveh. 

So he does. 

He scrapes off the leftovers from Kaveh’s plate into the compost, and sweeps the kitchen floor. He does the dishes. He wipes the countertops, and checks the pantry for anything that might need to be refilled. From their mist-flower compartment, he takes out a chilled pitcher and fills it with water, putting it on a tray on the counter along with a cup and some headache medicine, then thinks about it again, and puts the pitcher back in to cool. 

He takes a small towel from their bathroom, and a basin of water, putting that on the tray too. 

Some of Kaveh’s half finished blueprints lie on the coffee table along with a mug of half empty coffee dangerously close to the edge, now gone cold, so he takes that, empties it, and puts it in the sink to soak, tidying away the blueprints for Kaveh to review properly later on. 

He cleans his sword, and for good measure, takes the time to do the same to Mehrak and Metagross too, even though the latter gives him a somewhat strange look for it. 

Even at the end of all that, he still doesn’t think it’s been long enough, so he picks up a book from the absolute bottom of his shelf - something he picked up on a whim but found hardly interesting and hardly required his attention, meant for days where his thoughts weren’t actively needed to consume whatever he was reading - and settles down on the divan. 

Time passes, and the house is quiet. Too quiet, without Kaveh there. 

Reuniclus warbles at him once the four hour mark passes. 

“I know.”

…He’d better get going. 

He puts down the book. 

He picks up his cape on the way out. While Sumeru’s rainforest was warm most of the time, there were still days where the nights could get rather chilly, and he would rather deal with an upset drunk of a roommate rather than a sick, upset drunk of a roommate. 

He picks up his mora pouch too. If previous occasions were anything to go off of, he’d need it. 

As an afterthought, he takes Lord Kusanali’s stone with him too, putting it in his pocket alongside his wallet. 

The jingle of keys from the bowl sends Pichu on a path towards him, but he shakes his head. 

“No. You stay here for now. We’ll be back soon.”

She visibly wilts somewhat in disappointment, but nods all the same, turning away. 

“…I’ll be off then,” he says, and steps out into the Sumeru night air. 

Fighting, of course, is hardly an uncommon occurrence in their house. 

But it had been a while since their last big disagreement. 

Even then, the both of them were usually careful to not let it get too out of hand. They had come too far, and done too much since the fight over their thesis for something of that scale to happen again. 

They each had their own ways to blow off steam in those cases. For Alhaitham, it would be stewing in his thoughts for an unspecified amount of time, finding things to occupy himself with— and working himself up to process whatever issues had been the root of their conflict of the day. 

Kaveh’s, however, would be complaining about it to anyone who was willing to listen, and if there wasn’t, then drinking himself into a stupor. 

Every time he’d need to vent out his vexations to someone, it would usually be at Tighnari’s if the day was right for it. That wasn’t one of those days, which only left one other place…

Predictably, Kaveh is already wasted at Lambad’s when Alhaitham finds him, though that isn’t especially impressive considering how often it happens. Really, what’s more impressive is just about Kaveh’s ability to get drunk off of a single glass of wine. 

As if to prove his point, the man is face down at the bar, his head buried in his arms while a half empty glass lies next to his elbow. Lambad himself is drying glasses on the other side, and he brightens at the sight of Alhaitham. 

“Ah, Alhaitham, you’re here to pick up Master Kaveh?”

He sets down the glass he’s wiping as Alhaitham approaches the counter. 

“How much has he had this time?” Alhaitham asks, wrinkling his nose as he gets closer. The smell of alcohol comes off Kaveh in waves. 

“The same as always, more or less. You’d think that by now, he’d be able to handle his drink, eh?”

That would probably never happen. Alhaitham only sighs. 

“He’s always been like this.” 

Like this, just like many other things. He counts out a large handful of mora and sets it on the counter, sliding it over to Lambad. “Here, for his tab.”

“Thanks for your business as always, you two! Get home safe now, you hear?”

With the issue of Kaveh’s tab now settled, Alhaitham goes to solve the other matter, and the main one that brought him here. He crosses his arms, and sighs again. Maybe he should have brought someone along after all. Reuniclus, or even Mehrak. 

Well. No matter. It was hardly the first time this had happened, and it would hardly be the last. 

“Kaveh.”

No response. 

“Kaveh,” he tries again. “Get up. We’re going home.”

A little more successful. He gets an incoherent mumble for his efforts. 

“Kaveh, you’ve had enough. You need to go home and sleep.”

At long last, Kaveh lifts up his head, staring at Alhaitham with bleary eyes. A light flush dusts the top of his cheeks and across his nose, and part of his bangs cover his face. 

“…Ugh… Haitham?”

“Yes, it’s me. If not, then who else?”

Kaveh scowls, and turns his face away. Alhaitham rolls his eyes. Between the two of them, who really was the childish one? 

“Go away…”

“I’m not doing that.” Walking here, the weather had been rather cool. For him, it would be bearable, but for Kaveh, perhaps not, especially as he hadn’t even thought to bring his own cloak with him and the shirts he favoured were made more for keeping cool rather than keeping warm. He shrugs off his cape to drape it over Kaveh. “Come on, we’re going.”

In a single, smooth action, he slides an arm underneath Kaveh’s, pulling both of them to their feet. For all that he was protesting earlier, Kaveh goes willingly, the warm weight of his body leaning heavily against Alhaitham’s side. Part of his cape gets trapped in between their bodies, sure to wrinkle the next day, but then again… it was a weekend, so who was going to see it other than the two of them?

The unequal, stumbling pace they set out of the tavern eventually evens out, the two of them falling into something familiar. Kaveh’s head lolls slightly, slipping onto Alhaitham’s shoulder, and when his breath fans out, his breath smells like the wine he had been drinking. 

“My father was in the championship before,” Kaveh says suddenly. He hadn’t said a word ever since the tavern, but does so now, slurring over his words slightly. “He entered because of me. And then… he changed. He went into the desert. And he… didn’t make it back. And it was my… fault…”

That… was slight news to Alhaitham. Kaveh’s parents had always been a seldom discussed topic between the two of them, and for good reason. It had been months of being friends before Kaveh even divulged the slightest bit about his family, and that was when they were still on good terms instead of being… whatever they were now. Why did he bring it up again now?

“…What are you saying? Don’t be ridiculous, Kaveh.”

“Ridiculous..? You… never mind. You wouldn’t understand. Let’s just go home…”

Oh. 

If he didn’t have the energy to protest even that, then Kaveh really must be out of it. 

Alhaitham picks up the pace. 

The sooner they get home, the better.

By the time they get home, Kaveh has sobered up a little. Alhaitham doesn’t think he’s as drunk as he was at the tavern, but he’s much sleepier now, and he has to fight back a yawn as a concerned Reuniclus and Mehrak crowd him in the hallway. Even Pichu comes by to check on him before she wanders off, presumably to go back to sleep. 

“I’m fine now… you don’t have to follow me…”

“And risk you falling over and breaking your wrist? I think not.”

This is what he had prepared for earlier. He guides Kaveh to his room, and pushes him down to sit on the bed before heading back to the kitchen. 

The pitcher comes back out of the cryo compartment and onto the tray, and he takes the entire thing back into Kaveh’s room, setting it on the bedside table. He pours out a cup of water and hands it to Kaveh, who drinks it down slowly, blinking sleepily as he does. 

“I believe Madam Faruzan is representing Haravatat,” Alhaitham begins slowly. “I don’t wish to take that position from her, for multiple, and obvious reasons. You were right in saying that I can’t find it in myself to go to the effort to compete.”

As he does so, he soaks the towel in the basin and wrings it out, bringing it up to start wiping away the smudges of Kaveh’s makeup. Even though they’ve gone through this so many times now, Alhaitham still doesn’t know where to begin with Kaveh’s collection of cleansing oils and creams. For just tonight, plain water will have to do. 

“Hah… I knew it. I know you too well, Haitham…”

He washes out the towel again, and brings up the clean side to wash the rest of Kaveh’s face. 

“I’m also unable to compete because I’ve been asked by Lord Kusanali and the organising committee to serve as one of the judges,” At this, he wrinkles his nose slightly. At first, he had intended on declining the offer, but now… “Apparently, they need someone fair and impartial so they can prove that there’s no bias in the judging process like in previous years under Azar.”

At that, Kaveh snorts slightly. 

“Well, they couldn’t have found anyone more unbiased if they tried. Was it actually rigged under Azar?”

“They can’t prove it exactly, but it seems likely, yes.”

“Hmph.”

Kaveh leaves it at that, and so does Alhaitham, setting down the towel. He pours Kaveh another cup of water, and stands up to start easing the clips from his hair, as well as taking off his earrings. The golden strands are soft under his hands, and he tries to be as gentle as he can while taking them out. The lot of them join the rest on Kaveh’s dresser, and he takes the comb lying there too, passing it through Kaveh’s hair until it passes through smoothly without catching on any knots or tangles. That too, goes on the bedside table along with Kaveh’s Vision, unclipped from his side. 

The now empty cup goes back on the tray on the table, the pitcher still half full. Maybe he should refill it before he leaves. 

Kaveh’s eyes are closed by the time Alhaitham returns from putting back the basin and washcloth, and he is lying down with Alhaitham’s cape wrapped around him. He cracks open one eye when Alhaitham switches out the pitcher for a new, full one. 

“..’m sorry…” Kaveh breathes out, and Alhaitham pauses, his grip tightening slightly on the handle of the pitcher. 

“…Save your apologies for someone whom you actually owe them,” he simply says instead, and Kaveh closes his eyes again. 

“You… you’re so…” he mumbles, trailing off. 

“Go to sleep, Kaveh.”

As Alhaitham turns to leave, Kaveh’s voice rings out again, almost a whisper in the dark. 

“Haitham… What happened to us? Why are we like this..? Why couldn’t things… have… been…”

He falls silent, and the only thing that Alhaitham hears after that is the sound of faint breathing. 

“…Goodnight, Kaveh.”

He shuts the door behind him, and only then does he let himself breathe . 

…Archons. 

How long could he keep doing this? How long could both of them keep doing this?

Because for all that there is no word to describe what they are to each other, there may be something to describe what Kaveh is to Alhaitham. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands in the hallway for, but at some point, he comes back into awareness of the dimly lit hall, silent save for the occasional cry of night birds outside. He turns to make his way back to the kitchen…

How interesting. The truth is there for you to take hold of, yet you do not. Little eagle, surely you of all people should hold no fear?

… Only to almost drop it as a faint voice whispers its way across the surface of his mind. 

“…I don’t,” he finally says aloud. “Don’t think for even a moment you know my thoughts.”

He gets what seems to be almost a light hum of amusement back in response, and just like that, the house falls silent once again. 

He stands there for a moment longer, the white stone in his pocket a dead weight against his hip. 

He drops the pitcher off in the kitchen, filling it back up with fresh water and placing it back in the cryo box. 

Then, he turns, heading for the study. 

Even if he hates bringing work back home, there was something he needed to do before he went to bed himself. A letter to pen, and drop off at the after hours box at the Akademiya tomorrow. 

Lord Kusanali would be getting her fair and impartial judge after all, it seemed. 

They don’t talk about it the next day, but when Kaveh emerges from his room, bleary eyed and squinting against the light, leaning on Reuniclus, there is a bowl of cut zaytun peaches, chilled sunsettia juice, and a serving of palak dal sitting on the counter for him. If Kaveh remembers anything at all, he doesn’t say anything. 

Later on, while Alhaitham is sitting on the divan reading with Pichu curled against his side, Kaveh will take up a spot next to him, a sketchbook and pencils in hand, and begin to draw wordlessly. 

Two ships, moored together, weathering even the wildest storms. Two trees, reaching for the same sky, trunks blackened by forest fire but still alive. Magnets, polarising forces but drawn together all the same.

Chapter Text

One week after Lord Kusanali approaches him with the stones and two days after Kaveh had brought up the matter of the Interdarshan Championship, Alhaitham finishes all the pressing tasks that require his attention and slips off to the Akademiya records room for the rest of the day. 

Technically speaking, this is still part of his job. The organising committee had requisitioned the records of the previous Akademiya Extravaganzas to help with their preparation, and it was well within his authority as a judge to investigate as well. If it just so happened that he stumbled across other unrelated records, then who would discipline him for it?

The Akademiya records room is deep underground, near the roots of the Divine Tree. It’s one floor above the archives of physical objects and two floors above the offices where recent acquisitions are recorded and entered into the system. 

The name Sachin isn’t entirely unfamiliar to him. It always comes up during Interdarshan Championship season, alongside the rumours of his inheritance. Any Akademiya scholar with half an ear turned to the gossip mill knows of him, and while he doesn’t particularly care for those sorts of things, he’s ended up knowing about it because of his post. 

He wouldn’t have paid it any mind either if it weren’t for the fact that this year, for the first time in a very long time, Kaveh was not only back in his life, but so intertwined with it that it found unexpected ways of manifesting and shaping his philosophies - so much so that Sumeru was a completely different environment to the one it was last year. 

And, there was one other matter he had been leaving until the moment presented itself to investigate. 

He’s sure he hadn’t been imagining it. Someone spoke to him that night, and it hadn’t been verbally. Someone had been speaking in his mind, and it was nobody that he knew. 

On the few occasions she had spoken to him telepathically, Lord Kusanali felt more like the gentle brush of grass and leaves on his skin than the muted, ember-like feeling from that night, so it surely could not be her. She would not address him in such a way and would be much more likely to confront him about it directly rather than in response to his… feelings about Kaveh. 

He isn’t stupid. The chance of it being a prank, or malicious in nature is incredibly low. The watchful eye that all of their psychic types kept over the house and its inhabitants made sure enough of that. At any sign of danger, they would know instantly. 

No. Whoever had spoken to him would either have to be on the level of a god or have already been in the house from the start, and other than their groceries, only one other set of items of note had been brought in recently. 

On a desk down in the archives, he sets down his notebook and pens, his packed lunch, and the white stone, which shines back at him innocently. Pichu clambers down from his shoulder, digging through his lunch instantly. He lets her, instead moving off into the expanse of shelves in search of the records he needs. 

The ones on the previous Interdarshan events are easy enough to find, having been all sorted into several thick volumes in chronological order. Despite the fact that the records room was hardly used, it was well organised. 

From those, he takes the most recent volumes, as well as some of the oldest, and brings them back to the desk, where Pichu is happily making her way through a samosa nearly the size of her head. 

“Watch the crumbs,” he says to her as he drops the books on the desk with a small thump, but if she hears him at all, she doesn’t acknowledge it, instead taking another bite of the samosa. 

The rest of what he was hoping to find… may prove more difficult to locate. 

Technically, all physical relics submitted to the Akademiya through official channels had serial numbers that helped researchers find them in the catalogue. They, along with any reports, proposals, and additional documents would be filed in conjunction with the relics and were available upon request. But, hardly anyone ever used that when the Akasha system was more readily available, and often enough provided what the regular scholar needed. 

Now that the Akasha system was defunct, many people were finding that the numbering system was unnecessarily complicated and, in actuality, included a great deal more items that showed up in the Akasha inquiries - no doubt another attempt by the previous Sages to control the amount of knowledge that was being distributed. The matter of reorganising them into the new, standardised system, quite thankfully, was one that Lord Kusanali had deigned to take on herself, and she had politely turned down any offers to help, though it had yet to be fully implemented. 

As it stands, parsing the system isn’t something that Alhaitham necessarily considers difficult, but it is one that he finds tedious - especially when he has hardly anything to go off of regarding the stones in the first place. 

It seemed stupid not to check the House of Daena first. Any kind of book on local legends, folklore, Rtawahist and Kshahrewar manuals for tools and materials would naturally be the first line of inquiry—but nothing at all came up matching the description of the stones. Either they were so unique and rare that no mentions existed of them or so old that they actually predated any mentions. That being said, there was always the records room to check. 

And here he was now.

He flips to an empty part of his notebook and takes up a pen. 

This is what he presently knows about the stones —

They were gifted to him by Lord Kusanali, whose wisdom sees them as something much more than regular stones. According to her, they are protective charms and seem to be part of an unknown hypothesis of hers. 

As it turns out, they seem to have a mysterious quality that either houses another entity or allows them to channel their presence through it.  

He notes these characteristics down. 

Next was what could be reasonable assumptions. 

Not likely to be from the rainforest. They didn’t fit the typical kind of charms that were usually from this side of the Wall, either in the present era or the past. Of course, there was always the chance that it could have slipped through the net of his historical knowledge, but he found that highly unlikely. 

It meant its origins lay in the desert, Khaenri’ah, or even abroad. These other locations had much more variety in their artefacts and much less documentation… which ultimately did not narrow it down that much. 

Well… if that line of inquiry bore no fruit, perhaps he could follow another one. 

The box it came in had a very particular pattern that was only produced by a certain craftsman who lived several centuries ago. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have paid it any attention, but he does remember Kaveh explaining it to him once - and that had been enough for it to remain in his memory. According to him, those carvings could only be done with a certain type of wood that grew in northern Sumeru, close to the border of both Liyue and Fontaine. It had something to do with the malleability and tendency of the wood to retain its shape and colour after being treated, not to mention the decorative art style. 

Alhaitham didn’t really understand it then, and he still doesn’t. But Kaveh had been enamoured by it enough that he incorporated its aesthetics into quite a few of his designs at the time, and his constant agonising over whether it was too close to the original or even too dissimilar at times meant that Alhaitham had passively absorbed far more knowledge about this carving style than he would ever have by himself. 

So, for all of Kaveh’s accusations that he doesn’t understand artistic and aesthetic value, Alhaitham's understanding of it certainly comes in handy now. It narrows down the time frame in which they were sealed quite considerably. 

He notes it down. It isn’t something he would forget, of course, but it helped organise his thoughts. 

What else could he use? 

Perhaps… what that voice had said last night. 

“The truth is there for you to take hold of, yet you do not.“

Why would it focus on that in particular? He already gets enough knowing looks from Cyno and Tighnari about his apparently obvious feelings around Kaveh. He doesn’t need a being of indeterminate power thinking that they know better than him about it as well. 

Still, truth seemed like a very particular aspect to focus on when it could have been expressed in many other, more concise ways. 

This, he notes down too. He doesn’t especially like noting down something that isn’t certain, but there isn’t much for him to go off of. 

He leaves his notebook on the desk along with the rest of the records on the previous Interdarshan events as he walks down the aisles to where the old tome of physical catalogue numbers were recorded was. It shows signs of being used recently, with a small handprint having been left in the dust on the lectern where it’s kept as if someone had put their hand down in it by accident. 

He flips it open, turning to the section where the numbering system is organised by chronology. The listings are faded and handwritten but still legible. Now would be the hard part — actually finding something that matches the description of the stones. 

If he remembered correctly, the box they came in should have been produced around two hundred years ago. From that, filter past any records which obviously didn’t match its description…

He stops, finger landing on an entry halfway down the page. 

“D-904.87.2….”

That section shouldn’t be too far from here if he recalls correctly. 

A couple of rows over, he finds what he’s looking for, extracting a surprisingly thin file from a cabinet. 

Hm. 

If there was this little, perhaps he should just read it here. 

Flipping it open, he quickly scans down the page. The first few lines are rather standard, but from the second half downward, it’s hardly legible, with a small note in red being the only readable part of it. 

Black Stone | White Stone

Findspot: Far Northwest Sumeru (Desert)

Material: Unknown, stone-like

Acquisition date: 296AC

Description: Paired black and white stones of an unknown material. 

[THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION AND ALL RELATED FILES HAVE BEEN REDACTED AND RELOCATED TO SUMERU AKADEMIYA RESTRICTED REPOSITORY UNDER THE DIRECTION OF GRAND SAGE MAAN.]

Now that was rather unexpected, but it would hardly be a challenge if Lord Kusanali let her secrets be found out that easily. Though he has to admit, he didn’t think they were impressive enough to warrant a retraction to the restricted repository. Still, if the rest of the files are there, then there’s nothing he can do about it for the rest of the day. He’ll simply have to submit a request to the matra and hope it gets approved. If it doesn’t… well, that would be a bridge he crosses when he comes to it. 

He slips the file back into the cabinet, retracing his steps back to the table, where Pichu has finished her samosa and taken to napping on top of his papers. 

He nudges her aside with the back of his hand, freeing the paper from underneath her. A few stray yellow hairs stick to the front, which he brushes off, ignoring the tiny pricks of static that he gets from them. 

Though he’s more or less been involved in the administrative processes of previous Interdarshan Championships, it isn’t until now that he’s had reason to look into it further than some archiving and paperwork processing. 

The first volume he pulls out is marked to be read first, and he flips it open past the foreword straight to the contents, scanning until he’s found what he’s looking for. 

Sachin, a researcher of the Vahumana darshan.

Per his wishes, the Mahamata of Sumeru Akademiya is to manage his assets and affairs until a suitable inheritor is identified as the executor of his estate. 

…

For a profile of his basic history and academic transcript, see subsection 8-A. 

For a list of his published scholarship, see subsection 9-A. See also: the attached hard copies of his publications. 

For a complete inventory of his estate, see subsection 10-A. 

For his instructions regarding the Akademiya Extravaganza and the Interdarshan Championship, see subsection 11-A. 

He lays this out on the table in front of him alongside his open notebook. There are still a few much smaller samosas left inside the bag that held his lunch, probably intended for Pichu, but as she did, she cared little about what was intended for others and took as she wanted. 

Still, he takes them out to eat, perusing through the manual as he goes. 

It has more depth to it than he anticipated, and from how long he’s already spent here, as well as the time he would need to fill out the proper form to access the restricted section… it was likely that he’d need to bring back a few documents to look over at home. 

For the moment, though, he eats his samosas and starts reading through what he can. 

Three mysteries to solve. 

Sachin, Kaveh’s father, and Lord Kusanali’s stones. 

He has his work cut out for him.

The next day, he comes in to work to find his request to access the restricted section back on his desk, stamped across the front with an ‘Approved’ in forest green ink. A handwritten note in a looping cursive is clipped to the top with a sprig of vine. 

‘I know what you are looking for! I have personally approved your request to access the restricted section. Though I know you will, still please take care to return everything to their proper places after use, and be careful to not look into the things that you are not searching for specifically. This is more for your own safety than it is my concern you are seeking out forbidden knowledge for your own gain. Good luck, Alhaitham! May wisdom guide you!’

Underneath the approved request form is a letter of introduction written in the same looping script, laying out the topic and the reason for his visit. It isn’t signed with a name, but the curling dendro symbol used in place of it says it all. 

It was fairly obvious who the note was from, though, as if the writing style and the fact that only a handful of people could actually approve his request on such short notice weren’t telling enough. 

The day passes in relative monotony until the clock finally ticks past three in the afternoon, and he quietly gathers his things to slip off to the restricted repository. 

It isn’t a place that he’s been to before, but he can’t lie and say that the thought of finding out whatever was hidden away in there hasn’t crossed his mind before. 

But he needs to keep his curiosity in check. He’s going there to find a specific thing and nothing else. God herself had warned him not to go poking around, and he isn’t about to ignore her probably well-justified instructions. 

The matra posted outside the hidden entrance looks up as he approaches, giving him a perfunctory nod in greeting. 

“Lord Kusanali already sent word ahead that you’d be coming by today,” he says in lieu of an introduction. Very to the point. That made things easier for Alhaitham, then. “Don’t know if she told you or not, but the originals don’t come in or out of this room without permission. I’ll need to look over any notes you make too, if you want to take anything out. Find what you need, and get going.”

“Noted.”

He hands Lord Kusanali’s note to him, and the guard scans it before handing it back. He goes over to the wall, and a few moments later, a door opens up out of the wall. He motions for Alhaitham to head inside before following along behind, with the door sliding closed behind them. 

The restricted records room is rather small, but the bookshelves that adorn its walls are floor to ceiling, with books and scrolls tightly packed into every available shelf space. Pichu jumps off his shoulder to go to a dusty corner, seemingly finding interest in something he can’t see. 

“What you’re looking for should be in the back.”

“Got it.”

So Alhaitham goes, squeezing past stacks of books and the rickety desk at the back of the room until he’s facing the shelf at the back. 

The shelf at his eye level contains entirely Amurta report logs on… experimentation with forced grass-type and fungi hybridisation. Not what he’s looking for, and not something he feels keen on looking into either. 

The next shelf yields no results either. He scans through the entirety of the bookshelf until he hits the bottom row. There, he teases out a file similar to the one he had found in the archives but substantially thicker. The writing on the front is faded and hard to see under the dim light of the room, but he can just about make out the title:

The search for truth and ideals; a kingdom lost to the sands no more. 

Truth?

Then… that would align with what he had noted in his research. But what did ideals have to do with it?

He takes the file over to the desk and sits in the chair. A writing pad and tools are already laid out on the desk, so he doesn’t bother taking his notebook out, instead making use of the existing items. 

With his free hand, he flips open the file's first page, reading down the page. 

Until now, the existence of the kingdom of truth and ideals, like that of many other Deshret-era desert civilisations, has been widely contested. However, following new breakthroughs in recent texts discovered and deciphered by the Haravatat, there is now credible proof of its existence. 

This research trip, jointly proposed by the Vahumana and Rtawahist darshans, aims to launch an expedition into the Great Red Sands to ascertain this fallen kingdom's exact location and determine whether traces of its culture remain. Furthermore, we aim to determine whether the black and white dragons of the myth existed as they were or if they were simply metaphors for another cataclysmic event…

This must be the research proposal that brought the stones back to the Akademiya. 

Alhaitham can’t say he’s heard of such a kingdom before, though. From what it seemed, there should have been some mention of it in Haravatat texts, but there hadn’t been any mention of it at all in all the ones he’s read, both old and new. Was this information so dangerous that sages had to completely erase it? 

He reads on. The rest of the proposal is standard, if a little outdated in its referencing and background knowledge. There is most definitely a certain tone to it that he’s mostly seen in older Vahumana works, but he tries to ignore it for the most part and parse what it’s actually trying to say. 

Checking the rest of the file yields a literature review of the aforementioned Haravatat research and a scattering of offhanded mentions in previous publications. Overall, there’s still not much to go off of. Still, he makes a note of what he can, resolving to search for more information later on. 

It isn’t until he reaches the very end that he comes across something more unexpected. The following section is written in what seems to be some sort of cypher, combining several ancient desert scripts with Sumeran standard. To anyone looking on, it would come off as simple gibberish. An average Haravatat scholar wouldn’t likely be able to make heads or tails of it. Whoever had written this had, evidently, been extremely averse to the idea of someone finding it and reading it without their permission. 

Rather unfortunately for the author, however, Alhaitham is hardly an average Haravatat scholar. 

He tears several fresh pages from the writing pad and starts setting up his usual process for decoding. 

Time passes as he works his way through the cypher. He has to admit—it’s a little more of a challenge than the usual runes he’s worked on before, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, and he can tell he’s making progress. Just a little more, and he should have enough to read the last section of the file. 

After a while longer, he lays down his pen, staring contemplatively at the now-deciphered script. 

This is a greater discovery than we could have ever hoped for. Those scholars truly don’t understand the magnitude of their little project. If this power was enough to bring a kingdom to its knees, then surely it must have the power to raise it above the heavens as well. With this, we may have a solution to lead Sumeru back onto the true path of wisdom. Kusanali cannot be relied on. What does she know, child that she is now? No. We must grasp wisdom with our own hands, and this is the way we shall do it. 

The shortlisting process for suitable candidates will begin within the week. Sumeru has no shortage of scholars seeking the truth or those that follow their ideals. I am certain that we will be able to bring the one who can awaken the power in these stones to our side. 

This must, of course, be kept in utter secrecy. None shall be allowed to know of this. Not Kusanali, not the General Mahamatra— none, other than the Rtawahist’s sage. Her aid will surely be invaluable in this project. 

Several more pages in the same script remain encoded, but Alhaitham doesn’t think he’ll need to read anymore. From what he’s seen so far, he’s beginning to form several theories of his own.

Though he doesn’t read on, he does flip to the last page. Translating it from its code is much easier the second time around, helped by the fact that this note is somewhat shorter, too. 

How utterly disappointing. Is this generation of scholars so pitiful that they lack the strength of will to awaken these dragons? It seems that this will not be a viable solution to our problem. However, it has given us much to consider regarding our future directions. This may not be a totally wasted investment after all.

The black dragon that rends the sky with thunder, and the white dragon that scorches the earth with flame, however…let their knowledge of their existence be struck from the record. Send the matra to silence the scholars who probed into this topic initially. It would be unwise to allow this knowledge to fall into the hands of the public, after all. If they were to know of such things… if those of the desert knew… no. It shall be as is. Retract all the files to the restricted repository, and consign the stones to the archives room where they shall remain. 

Then… that would explain why this knowledge was hidden away with no mention of it in any of the texts in the House of Daena and why the stones were sealed away too. 

Based on what he had just read, he thinks he might be able to guess Lord Kusanali’s initial hypothesis, and why she had given him and Kaveh the stones. 

Though… whether they can meet her expectations will be something else entirely. 

He gathers his notes and the original file, placing the latter back on the shelf where he had taken it from. 

“Got what you need, scribe?”

The matra flicks through his notes as Alhaitham makes to leave before handing it back to him. He doesn’t comment on its contents other than giving a noncommittal hum. 

“I’ve got enough for now.”

“Best you be on your way then. Sticking around here does no good for anyone.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m off the clock now.”

He signals to Pichu, who had been batting around a piece of scrap paper waiting for him, and she quickly bounds over, clambering up his side and onto his shoulder. 

Without sparing a second glance behind him, he turns on his heel and starts to make his way out of the restricted room, and on towards his way home.

A few days later, he is attempting to sort through the various pieces of information he has gathered. Documents and loose papers lie spread over the divan and the coffee table, and he has his notebook in front of him as he tries to connect everything. 

Despite sponsoring the competition, Sachin had never personally appeared or responded to any attempts to contact him in the past twenty-odd years. In Alhaitham’s opinion, it was quite likely that he was dead— though this was something that could not be confirmed. 

One of his most significant purchases was the Diadem of Knowledge used in the Interdarshan Championships. Alhaitham had seen it before and thought it rather overrated. Kaveh would call him uncultured, but to Alhaitham, it had just seemed rather ostentatious and tacky-looking. 

However, if Sachin had been willing to spend a small fortune on it, then there must be something special about it. He’s confident that if he can trace its purchase history, he might be able to piece together why. 

What was ultimately the most concerning, though, was the reports of Sachin that had come in after he returned from the desert. The descriptions of him at that time… well, it was almost the same as how Kaveh described his father acting just before his death. 

“Those who believe in their ideals…” he says to himself, tapping his pen against the notebook. “And the worlds they wish to build for others….”

“What are you muttering to yourself about now?”

The sound of Kaveh’s voice breaks him from his thoughts. His cape is thrown over his shoulders, and Mehrak and Reuniclus follow, floating after him. Ah. He did mention that he would be out earlier tonight, didn’t he?

“Research, Kaveh. Something you should be familiar with, considering you’ve done your own fair share.”

Kaveh huffs, rolling his eyes slightly. 

“Of course it’s research. I’m not blind. You only take notes when you’re researching something. It’s not another unbearably bland and overly verbose paper on the proper conjugation of Deshret-era language groups, is it? Honestly, I don’t know why you still bother with those. Every Haravatat and their mother feels like they have something new to say about it and it’s always the same. You yourself said as much once. I remember that.”

Alhaitham remembers that, too. He had once submitted a critique of that particular topic to a Haravatat journal, and after an unusually long peer-review process, it had been formally published. 

It hadn’t been received all that well, but he really couldn’t care less. Many had tried to refute his claims, but none of them really successfully did. It was one of the few things that Kaveh actually agreed on and defended alongside him, even though they weren’t speaking at the time— unless through the message boards counted. Alhaitham won’t tell him that the only reason he still reads those is because he thinks Kaveh’s indignation at those protesting scholars on his behalf is funny though.

“It’s not, but even if it was, I don’t see how it would concern you. It’s not your darshan, after all.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes at him but doesn’t make any move to take a look at his research materials. 

“Well, if it’s not that, then what’s got you so interested?”

“Notes on Sachin, the sponsor of this great event you're so determined to win. Look through them if you wish. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“I’ll pass then. When I win, then it’ll be through my own efforts and not through looking through whatever plans you have.”

“These notes have nothing to do with the event planning. It’s just a personal interest in his background.”

“Then that’s more reason for me to keep my nose out of it. I don’t need to get into another disagreement with you over whatever you’re writing.”

“Hm. Suit yourself.”

A quiet jingle echoes through the hall as Kaveh reaches for his keys in the bowl, unlinking them from Alhaitham’s set. He casts a final look over his shoulder towards Alhaitham, making a vague gesture towards the kitchen. 

“Alright, I’m off to Tighnari’s then. Dinner is on the stove. Just heat it up when you’re going to eat. I’d say you should come too, but I think neither of us want that.”

“You’d think right. Don’t get too drunk, by the way. You’re already imposing enough on him as is.”

At this, Kaveh’s slight frown of annoyance deepens into a full-blown scowl. He jerks the door open, and a few of Alhaitham’s loose papers fly off in the draft it creates. 

“Alhaitham, you—!” Kaveh fumes. “One of these days, you’ll understand the meaning of generosity. And when you do, you’ll regret not understanding it sooner, I swear!”

“Why would I do that when you seem to understand enough for the both of us?” Alhaitham calls after him, but if Kaveh hears or not, he doesn’t respond; instead, he slams the door shut behind him. More of Alhaitham’s papers go flying, and the loud bang of the door startles Pichu awake. 

Well, that could have been worse. In any case, it’s Tighnari’s problem now. 

He sets aside the papers in his hands and goes to pick up the ones that had gone flying. 

Of course, he hadn’t told Kaveh that Sachin wasn’t the only thing he was researching. 

There are also notes on the two stones and a few on the Interdarshan Championship that Kaveh’s father had participated in. There are not that many on the latter—he hasn’t had the time to investigate properly yet, and he doesn’t think he will until this year’s event begins. He also doesn’t want Kaveh stumbling upon them before he’s ready to present his findings. Knowing him, he’d get the wrong idea or react badly to what he’s found. Maybe even both. 

He sets those notes aside in his desk drawer and leaves the rest in a neat stack on the coffee table in their sitting room. 

As he makes his way out to the kitchen, that same stoked-coals voice from before echoes in the back of his mind. 

You seek the truth, but for whom exactly are you seeking it?

“Who else?”

Who else, indeed?

There has been only one person Alhaitham would do this willingly for, without question, complaint, or being asked.

One person he has seen bear the world’s weight time and time again and still finds it worthy of bearing. 

One person for whom he fears that one day, the world will be too much and that that one person might break, and it will be too late for Alhaitham to try and pick up the pieces. 

So he does what he can now. 

And he has to hope that it will be enough. 

Before the fall of Gurabad, numerous other kingdoms of some renown rose to prosperity, and all fell in the desert in the same breath. At the borders of once Remuria, now Fontaine, a kingdom once existed under the rulership of two brothers and a dragon they shared. 

For a while, all was peaceful, and under their rule, the kingdom flourished. However, one day, the brothers began to fight. 

One argued to follow the path of truth. Only by being true to themselves would they be able to withstand the fierce sandstorms that ravaged the desert. 

One argued to follow the path of ideals. Only by being idealistic would they be able to expand their kingdom and ensure prosperity for all. 

This clash of values would lead to a bitter conflict, and the dragon that they shared could not side with one brother over another. Torn, it split itself into two, with one following the brother of truth and one following the brother of ideals. 

The two brothers and the two dragons fought a devastating war between themselves. The kingdom they were once so proud of fell to ruin under their battle, and their individual beliefs led both to fall without resolution. In an instant, the dynasty of generations was lost to the sands. 

Weakened by their fierce battle, the dragons fled into the desert and were never seen again. According to the astrologers of the time, the dragons will return someday when the ones who uphold truth and ideals as strongly as the brothers prove themselves worthy of the dragons’ power. Thusly, they will continue the battle and determine which belief is held above all.

…

Lofty ideals may provide no defences at all against nihilism, but perhaps small decisions can.

The Interdarshan Championship begins, and so does Alhaitham’s investigation in the field. 

Of course, he’ll have to be there for his commentator duties, and whenever else he needs to be, but he can spend the rest of the time following the threads unravelled by his snooping around in the archives.

As he’s found, every conspiracy has its trail of breadcrumbs to follow, no matter how hard they try to conceal it, and every mystery has its answer, even if it might be unsolvable at the time of its conception. The only difference is that this is one that he’s seeking voluntarily rather than one that he’s been unceremoniously thrust into as opposed to hive minds and attempted apotheosises. 

More than twenty years ago, Kaveh’s father had participated in the championship, coming close to winning, only to fail towards the end. Not long after, his entire personality entirely changed for some unknown reason, and following that, he disappeared into the desert. 

At the same time, if not a little earlier, the Vahumana scholar known as Sachin surrendered his estate to the Akademiya and sponsored this event in the hopes of finding a successor to his ideals. He became a recluse, supposedly observing the events from afar, though his chosen successor was still yet to be named. 

Multiple things about them both don't make sense, though, and Alhaitham already notices multiple things about this event that feel off. 

His investigations after the first round lead him to two things. First, he’s noticed an increased Eremite presence in the city. Though they try to disguise themselves as tourists, their body language signals anything but. Still, that isn’t something Alhaitham’s willing to confront just yet on account of how much attention it’d draw to him. 

The second is his investigations regarding Sachin. This, unfortunately, hits a roadblock. It isn’t that his idea of trying to track the purchase history of Sachin’s diadem is foolish; it’s just that it leads him to Dori. He can count the number of times he’s spoken to her on one hand, and none of them could even be considered a conversation. It’s not likely that he’ll be getting any information through that route. 

That being said, he does have some idea of what the diadem’s unique qualities were. Finding that information had taken considerably less digging than the stones. All he had to do now was chase up a few last leads to confirm his suspicions. 

So, he leaves the matter of the purchase history for the moment and returns to the Akademiya’s records. If nothing else, he could at least look there. 

Coming back to those records, there’s a note attached to them that details the person in the planning committee to whom to direct any inquiries about the diadem. He finally feels like he’s picked up the right trail, but by then, it was too late in the day to ask his questions. 

So he goes home. 

He lets Braviary and Metagross out into the courtyard and gives Pichu her snack. A note on the kitchen counter tells him that Kaveh has left for the desert to scout out the competition arena, so to speak, and that the next time they see each other will most likely be the second round. Maybe for the better since their last interaction at the end of the first round had gone in the wrong direction, as it usually went with many of their interactions. 

He heats the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner to have today and tries to ignore the fact that they don't taste as good as Kaveh’s fresh cooking. 

Even though the house that night is quiet and he doesn’t have to wear his noise-cancelling headphones to bed, strangely, he still finds it hard to sleep. 

The following day finds him still sleepy, but he downs three cups of coffee and heads out for the desert atop Braviary’s back. He makes it with time to spare and goes through the excruciatingly dull process of ensuring the round’s preparations are ready. 

The rest of the competitors, spectators, and other event guests trickle in throughout the morning, Kaveh among them. 

The two of them lock eyes across the desert sands, but then Alhaitham is explaining the rules of the round, and once again, they don’t discuss the crux of the problems between them. They don’t talk until the round concludes; even then, it’s fraught with tension—perhaps even more than usual. It was one thing for them to fight in the privacy of their own home about Kaveh’s self-destructive tendencies, but it was another thing entirely for Kaveh to recklessly give away his limited rations to some desert foxes when the environment he was in was as unpredictable as it was and for Alhaitham to confront him about it here. 

After the second round ends in the early morning of the following day, he excuses himself and returns home. He still has a few things to resolve, but not enough time to do them. 

Kaveh is already home by the time Alhaitham returns. This fact is not entirely unsurprising to Alhaitham. Pidgeot was a faster flyer, and she disliked the desert just as much as any other impeccably groomed bird pokémon who hated the feeling of sand between their feathers. When he does come home, Kaveh is still in his room, his door fully shut and the occasional banging sounds coming from within, so, nothing new. 

He’s only home to make a quick stop in the kitchen and to quickly review his notes. While he had eaten something in the morning, it wasn’t much. He recalls some leftover pita pockets from the other day that would hopefully last him until dinner. Hopefully. 

What’s more surprising, however, is that when he leaves the kitchen, it’s to the sight of Kaveh fervently trying to shove several of his rolled-up blueprints into a travel bag. The bag itself is almost full to bursting, and Alhaitham would have trouble believing that Kaveh could leave with it if it weren’t for the fact that he knew that Reuniclus would be carrying it instead. 

“Going somewhere?” He asks, crossing his arms, and Kaveh jumps at his voice, looking up from his manic packing. 

“Archons! Alhaitham, can you give a little more warning before sneaking up on someone like that?!”

“The issue is entirely your own if you couldn’t hear me coming in. Or see me.”

“Don’t try and put this on me!” Kaveh retorts, getting to his feet. He brushes out some of his clothes' wrinkles and puts the blueprints aside on a nearby shelf. 

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Alhaitham replies dryly, stepping over what seems to be another bulging bag to go over to the same shelf. Kaveh had placed his blueprints on top of his own notes. 

Alhaitham flips through them quickly, mentally cross-checking his information before setting them back down next to the blueprints. 

“I’m packing!” Kaveh says, jerking his thumb at his bags. “I’m moving out the moment the last round is over and I’ve secured my victory! My luck’s already looking up, so it’s going to be just a small matter to win! See, Alhaitham? Good deeds pay dividends. Not that you’d know anything of that. You know, you could stand to listen to your senior on these things for once. It could do you some good.”

Their idea of dividends must be supremely different, then. Alhaitham would hardly call what had happened in the second round anything remotely close to a good deed. Kaveh would call it a basic kindness. Alhaitham would much rather call it the choice of an idiot. The foxes would have been fine either way, but of course, Kaveh had seen fit to intervene—at his own cost. 

“And which one of us was the one who passed out in the desert?” he says coolly, and the self-satisfied smile on Kaveh’s face begins to drop. “You're always quick to remind me that you're my upperclassman, and yet you do not problem-solve in the manner becoming of an upperclassman. This begs the question of why we attach prestige to seniority at all.”

“What? Alhaitham, you-!”

“I'd encourage you to reflect on why you've ended up having to rely on luck every round. Frankly, it's incomprehensible to me how you've managed to make it to this age without acknowledging the proverbial elephant in the room of your life."

Because as much as they both know it exists, Alhaitham is the only one willing to address it. 

It isn’t as if Kaveh is a fool or weak. But he is weak-hearted toward the plight of others, which becomes the part of his life that never seems to stop causing trouble for him and, by extension, Alhaitham. 

However, that discussion would not be resolved now; it had not been previously, and it was improbable the time would be now. Neither would be the issue coming from what had happened in the desert be resolved. There would be time for that after the Interdarshan Championship. 

He finishes flipping through his notes. The topmost ones are all related to Sachin, with a few mentions of his diadem mixed in with the rest. Then, he turns back around and heads down the hallway to the front door.

“Wha—Hey! I’m not done with you! Where do you think you’re going?!” exclaims Kaveh.

Alhaitham turns, meeting Kaveh’s indignant expression with an even look of his own.

“I’ve said all I have to say on the matter, senior. Whether or not you choose to listen this time is your own prerogative. I have places to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

With that, he ignores Kaveh's spluttering in the hallway behind him and steps out into the late afternoon sun.  

His investigations are far from over, after all.

Alhaitham’s first destination is the event area set up in Sumeru City. 

More specifically, it’s the little tent that serves as the planning committee’s field office while the event is underway. From his notes, he needs to speak with the person in charge of supervising the diadem. 

That person turns out to be a man named Wiqas, who all but drops everything to answer Alhaitham's questions regarding the diadem. 

From that man, he learns about a rather surprising turn of events that occurred more than twenty years ago… right around when Kaveh’s father would have participated in the Interdarshan Championship. 

But as far as Alhaitham’s aware, nothing similar had happened since that incident. If the diadem truly was dangerous, then surely it would have exposed itself since then. 

No. Some other factor had to have caused Kaveh’s father to undergo the transformation he did. He just has to find the connection…

“Actually, you aren’t the first people to come around asking about it today!” Wiqas continues, breaking Alhaitham from his musing. “That Traveller and their little friend… they came around too, actually. Oh Archons… do you think that means something bad is going to happen?”

So this matter was of interest to even the Traveller? Although it’s the first that he’s heard of it, he can’t find it in himself to be surprised. Whenever something happened, it was almost sure the Traveller would be nearby—considering them a bad omen though… well. That just seemed unreasonable. 

“…I think you’re being overly paranoid, frankly speaking,” he replies, and Wiqas chuckles nervously. 

“Haha… maybe you’re right. I hope that what I told you is at least useful… Um… Nothing is going to happen… right?”

Alhaitham gives him a flat look, and he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Never mind!” He says quickly. “You have a good evening, sir!”

He wasn’t aware that his investigation would take him until into the evening. 

It’s already dark outside as he starts making his way back to Sumeru City, with just a glimmer of orange on the horizon; the last remnants of the day. 

Talking with Wiqas had solidified a few things in his mind about the diadem. Though he still hasn’t figured out why it had gone missing or why the man’s senior colleague had found it in a tree hollow of all places, it did confirm that nobody else had been affected by the diadem in the same way that Kaveh’s father had been— and he had been. 

There had to be something linking the two. Something unique about Kaveh’s father that had caused the deterioration of his mental state… It couldn’t be darshan. Age… that couldn’t have been it either. Whether they held a Vision or not… if they had any ancestry from the desert… none of them were connecting nor distinguishing qualities. 

Eventually, he makes it back to Treasures Street. From here, it wouldn’t take much longer to get home. Today had been far too much work to start with, and that included coming back from the desert without anything as much as a break. Fortunately, he had picked up some candied ajilenakh nuts for Pichu from Aaru Village before heading back to the city. Without those, she would have been a lot grouchier. Speaking of… 

Alhaitham stops walking. The usual weight on his shoulder is gone, and he doesn’t see Pichu anywhere when he looks around. Had he really been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed her wandering off?

“Huh? Hey, lil’ guy, I think you’ve got the wrong—oh, hold on.” 

A familiar voice rings out behind him, and he turns around. 

Behind him is the tall figure of the Flame-Mane, who has Pichu settled into her arms, if not a little awkwardly. Dehya glances up and meets Alhaitham’s eyes from across the street, brightening up. 

“Hey!” Shifting her arms slightly, she raises a hand to wave him over and reluctantly, he moves over. “If it isn’t Alhaitham! Didn’t expect to see you out here at this time!”

He eyes Pichu, who has cuddled up to the woman in the time it has taken him to walk over. Her eyes are closed in contentment as Dehya rubs along the electric-type’s ears. 

“You’d be right,” he says, giving Pichu a flat look that she promptly ignores. “I’m going home now.”

“Whoah, why the rush? Candace!” She raises her voice to call out, and sure enough, the guardian of Aaru Village is at a nearby stall. Candace looks over at Dehya’s call, and when she does, Dehya gestures to Alhaitham and holds up two fingers. Candace nods and turns back to the shopkeeper.

“C’mon, it’s been a while! Don’t think we can drag you out for drinks, but we can treat you to something! ‘Sides,” At this, the grin on Dehya’s face drops slightly, becoming more serious. “I…  uh, got something you might wanna know about.”

“Is that so?”

If the Flame-Mane thought it necessary to tell him, then it had to be something actually concerning. She was smart enough to recognise real issues when they arose, and not so prideful that she wouldn’t let others know about it if she felt like it would help. 

“Yup.” Dehya continues, nodding. “The Traveller and Paimon know too— I already told them— but you’re running this event or something, right? So it makes sense to tell you too.”

“I’m just a judge.”

“Eh, close enough.”

The two are not quite ‘close enough,’ but before he can correct her, Candace approaches them, her hands full of several wrapped-up items. 

“Hello, Alhaitham.”

“Candace.” 

“Here’s yours–oh? There’s one extra? We only ordered four, right?”

The items turn out to be extra-large shawarma wraps, one for each of them, a smaller one for Pichu, and one extra, too. Pichu perks up immediately, wriggling out of Dehya’s grasp to jump onto her shoulder. Dehya holds one out for Alhaitham and passes the smaller one up to Pichu, but there’s still one more beyond the ones left for herself and Candace.

“I got one more,” Candace says, nodding towards the extra one. “That one’s for Master Kaveh. It wouldn’t be right to send off Alhaitham without one for his roommate as well, don’t you think?”

“He told you we’re living together?” Alhaitham notes, taking the extra shawarma wrap. 

“That guy’s your roommate?!” Dehya blurts out at the same time, and Candace blinks. 

“Oh. Was that supposed to be a secret? My apologies, I didn’t realise…”

“No, I have no issue with it. He doesn’t usually tell people that though.”

“I see… When Master Kaveh told me, he did seem a little… drunk. Perhaps I should have known.”

“Okay… never mind. I think I don’t wanna know,” Dehya says slowly, shaking her head. “That sounds like something I don’t need to get involved in. Uh, like I was saying though, I do need to tell you something.”

She lowers her voice, casting her gaze to the sides before flicking it back to Alhaitham. 

“You probably noticed it, right? Bunch of mercs hanging around where they’re not supposed to. Haven’t made any moves yet, but I just know they’re waiting for the right time to strike. They’re real pieces of work. Nasty work. Kidnappings… assassinations… that kinda shit. The type that gives the rest of us a bad name.”

Ah. That, he had noticed indeed. It figured that she would notice, too. For someone familiar with how Eremite companies worked, it was no wonder that she had done so immediately and determined their nature. 

“Their target seems to be the sponsor of this competition. Sachin, yes? Our best guess is that they’re after his money.” Candace adds smoothly. 

“There isn’t much either of us can do, hence why we alerted the Traveller and Paimon about it,” she continues. “That being said, given your position, it seems prudent to let you know as well.”

“I’m hardly in a position to do anything either.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dehya grouses, rolling her eyes. “You only do something if there’s something about it that’s inconveniencing you, or if it’s really worth the effort. You could at least warn the guy or something though…”

 “He hasn’t been heard from for years. I think that’s the least of his worries.”

Dehya’s eyes narrow. 

“Shit, really? Why’re those guys still looking for him then?”

“Clearly, someone still believes he’s around.”

“Huh… I’m willing to bet that’d be the client. Whoever it is, they’re gonna be disappointed then.”

“If you already told the Traveller, then I’m sure they’re already handling it. Leave it to them.”

He only sticks around for as long as it takes for Pichu to finish eating. In that time, he has some of his own shawarma wrap, and gets a little more information out of Dehya and Candace. 

The sun had fully set when he got home, and the lights were dimmed but not out. Pichu jumps off of his shoulder and makes for his room. When Alhaitham peers into the kitchen, though, Kaveh is putting what seems to be one last plate back into their cupboards,

To his credit, Kaveh doesn’t nearly fall over in shock at his sudden appearance this time, though he does seem to let out a quiet curse under his breath. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to come home,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’m still mad at you, by the way.”

“When aren’t you?” Alhaitham replies, drawing closer. He holds out the now lukewarm shawarma wrap to Kaveh, whose eyes flicker down at it and then back to Alhaitham. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Shawarma wrap. There was one extra so I’m giving it to you.”

Technically, it was not extra in the way that it had been given erroneously or leftover, as his tone of voice implied, but it was one of the few ways he could increase the chance of Kaveh accepting it without taking it the wrong way.  

Kaveh doesn’t make any move to take it, though; instead, he keeps his gaze firmly on Alhaitham. 

“I’ve already eaten,” he says flatly. “If you weren’t coming home to eat, then you should have told me so I wouldn’t have made extra.”

“Just have it tomorrow then.”

With the competition as it was, it would be unlikely that either of them would have time to make a full breakfast and eat it, even though Kaveh, as a competitor, would need it. Having the wrap would solve some of that at least. 

“Why don’t you eat it?” Kaveh throws back at him.

“Should I take that as you refusing it?”

“Just put it in the cryo box, Alhaitham. Whoever eats it, eats it.”

Which had been Alhaitham’s original intention anyway. As he moves past Kaveh to put it in the cryo box, Kaveh uncrosses his arms with a sigh. 

“The Traveller and Paimon came around asking for you, you know. I had to tell them you were out.”

“And?”

“And?” Kaveh repeats incredulously, They were looking for you! You’re just lucky that whatever I showed them from your notes they were happy enough with!” 

That would make it the third time today that it seems he’d just missed the Traveller. Whether he would have been able to tell them anything of worth was to be seen. 

“Why should I concern myself with whether or not they’re satisfied with my notes? I didn’t make them for someone else, so it isn’t as if there’s a standard I have to hold them to. You would be better off asking yourself why you’re invested in my notes when they’re not yours in the first place, or the fact that you’re apparently expecting some kind of approval from them on my behalf.”

Kaveh blinks, then breaks into a scowl, his fists bunching up at his sides in anger.

“I—What?! That is not what I meant!” He says hotly, jabbing a finger into Alhaitham’s chest. “This is exactly why I’ll be glad to move out the second the competition is over and I’ve won!”

Alhaitham sighs, gently pulling away Kaveh’s hand by his wrist.

“By all means, if that’s something that you believe is in your ability to do, then go ahead. But senior, I would advise you that hubris is not a virtue, nor is it wise.”

“Alhaitham, you really are so—” Kaveh fumes. “Why are you lecturing me on hubris when you are the most arrogant bastard I’ve ever known?”

“You seem to be misconstruing arrogance with confidence. If I have self assurance in my abilities, then why should I not make that clear?”

“Really? Why is it that with you, it’s self assurance, but with me, it’s hubris? Is it so hard to believe that I have confidence in myself too? I don’t need to rely on luck every round!”

“Have you given me any reason to believe so, Kaveh?”

Throughout their argument, they had moved out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Mehrak peeks out from around Kaveh’s open door, beeping almost nervously. Kaveh glares at Alhaitham one last time before he turns on his heel and marches back to his room, forcing Mehrak to bob back out of view to avoid being run into.

“Oh no, I’m not doing this again with you! I’ve had enough! You’ll see tomorrow whether that confidence is unfounded or not. Good night !”

Kaveh slams his door closed and plunges the house into near darkness. The only light Alhaitham can see is that which spills out from the cracks of Kaveh’s door and the Vision at his side. He stands there unmoving for a moment longer before sighing and turning away.

Two steps forward and one step back is still a step forward. 

Alhaitham just has to keep moving forward. 

One step at a time.

One fight, and one unspoken apology at a time. 

The morning before the third round, Alhaitham makes a calculated decision. 

Some way out of the city outskirts, the mercenaries that had been skulking around had set up camp. Dehya and Candace had pointed him in the general direction of where they thought it would be the day before, and their intuition was correct. Dehya had raised an eyebrow when he had asked after that information, but she didn’t question further. Now, when everyone’s attention would be focused on the upcoming round, it would be the perfect time to strike.

He leaves before Kaveh does, eating a quick meal of the leftover fatteh from last night’s dinner that he hadn’t had. When he leaves, he takes care for once to separate the link of their keys. His Vision is firmly affixed to his cape, and his pokeballs sit securely at his waist. He leaves Pichu as is. She was still fast asleep, and if he’s expecting a fight, he would rather her be safe in Kaveh’s care than accidentally be caught in a stray attack. 

As he approaches the camp though, something about it feels unusual. It feels too… quiet. 

He comes closer, and the sight he’s greeted with is enough for him to arch a single eyebrow in surprise. 

Instead of a full camp of Eremite mercenaries, he’s met with a lone figure in shades of blue and an unusual, white, and grey quadruped pokemon beside them. The Eremites he had expected to see are laid out on the ground around them in various states of consciousness, along with their pokemon. 

The figure turns at his approach, an orb of flickering dark green in their hand, but it disperses as they meet his gaze. 

“What— Oh. You. Nahida’s little jobber.” Hat Guy says, crossing his arms. 

Truth be told, even Alhaitham doesn’t know much about the Vahumana representative for the competition. Actually, the entire thing had been fairly strange. He had come to work one day, and suddenly, he had started seeing this stranger wherever Lord Kusanali went. When he had asked her about it, she had smiled cryptically and said something about a personal project and that he needn’t worry about it. 

It hadn’t exactly assuaged the small concerns that Alhaitham had over her safety, but on one of their visits to the desert together to check up on outreach projects, he did see Hat Guy cut an approaching scorpion to ribbons with blades of Anemo while she had been occupied talking to the project manager. In any case, he worried less after that, even though he still wasn’t exactly sure where Hat Guy had come from. 

“I prefer the term employee, actually,” he replies. Hat Guy only scoffs, motioning to his partner, who bumps its head against his hand, returning itself to its ball. 

“Whatever. I’m pretty much done here. They’re your problem now. I’m sure you’ve got things to ask them or whatever it is you’re looking for anyway. I’m out.”

He tucks the ball back into his sleeve, and takes off in a strong gust of wind that blows Alhaitham’s bangs back and kicks up all the loose dirt in the camp. When the dust clears, the closest mercenary is staring back at him with wide eyes. 

“I have some questions,” Alhaitham begins, and the mercenary jumps at his voice. His features twist into a scowl, and his hands clench in the dirt. 

“J-just because that little brat knocked us down, don’t think that I’m going to spill everything just like that!”

How annoying. This guy was backed into a corner and insisted on putting up a front. Still, Alhaitham can’t say that he was unprepared for this situation. Hat Guy’s unexpected appearance only saved him the hassle of engaging in battle, but not the actual interrogation part. With one hand, he summons his sword to his hand in a flash of dendro green, and with the other, flicks one of his pokeballs into the air. 

“Alright. Obviously, I need to be clearer,” Alhaitham says. 

Metagross lands behind him with the force of a small earthquake, and the ground craters under its weight. Even so, Alhaitham doesn’t stumble; instead, he lifts his sword slightly to point the tip at the mercenary on the ground, who instinctively tries to scramble back. With a flick of his wrist, Alhaitham pins him down at the wrists and ankles with shards of his dendro mirrors, stopping him in his tracks. 

“I am looking for information on Sachin, and I think you have it. Therefore, it would be in your best interest to answer them to the best of your ability, yes?”

The man is all too eager to talk after that, stumbling through a hasty explanation of who hired their company and why. It only takes a little more to find the culprit himself, and under the same piercing glare of Metagross, he folds just as easily, too, airing out his grievances in a torrent of words. 

It’s enough for Alhaitham to finish piecing together an idea of what had happened, and despite being complete, the final version of his working theory isn’t one he’s particularly satisfied with. 

The truth is not always pleasant to bear, little eagle. I suppose… you have already discovered that for yourself though, haven’t you? 

“That has been something I have known for a long time.” He mutters back to the voice when it chooses to comment on his discovery. 

The last round’s venue is within Mawtiyima Forest, and as he takes to the skies atop Braviary’s back, he can’t help but rethink the final pieces of information. 

That diadem which was to be used in the final round… Sachin’s research and how it affected Kaveh’s father… It’s hard for him to understand, but he knows what it would mean for Kaveh to learn about it. 

Even so, he knows that with what he’s learned, he can’t keep it from Kaveh. Kaveh himself would call it a moral obligation—and though Alhaitham has never been particularly strict about doing things because of any ‘moral obligations’, he simply can’t reject his 'obligation' this time—not from Kaveh, and especially because it’s Kaveh. 

“If all truths were pleasant, then we would not need any falsehoods. But they are illusions, and they blind us from finding what we truly seek. I have no need for those illusions, and I am certain that when the time comes, he will understand that too.”

Because if his instincts were correct, that time would be upon them sooner than any of them could anticipate.

When Kaveh places the diadem on the pedestal, the entire rainforest holds its breath in anticipation of what will follow. 

The trees stop swaying, the clouds stop drifting, and the birds stop singing. The entire forest is drawn into a collective instance of photosynthesis: sustained respiration, then an exhalation, all at once. 

Of course, by technicality, this already declares him the winner. By combining the points from the last round with the round with the diadem, there isn’t a doubt that he’s the champion of this year’s Interdarshan Championship. What happens next, however, is much more shocking.

As expected, the shade within the diadem makes itself known. 

It opens its mouth, and it speaks. 

It speaks, and everything it says perfectly mirrors what Alhaitham has discovered in his research. 

It speaks of its research in the desert, the suffering of humans, and the desolation it had seen under God's uncaring eyes. God herself could not have done anything either, then, and didn’t that stand to prove everything the shade had experienced? That not even this world was salvageable by the divine?

No. 

After everything he’s seen and learned, Alhaitham knows that it definitively cannot be true. 

God, who must be watching this through the eyes and ears of the forest, cares. She cares perhaps too much, even, always eager to help in whatever way possible to lead others towards enlightenment and the wiser path. 

This event came as a fruit of her efforts and the crystallisation of a small part of her boundless wisdom. That she had seen to share it with others, and that others took this chance to seek a harmonious balance with others in their lives is a testament to that. 

There are Cyno and Tighnari, who perform their duties steadfastly day after day, protecting others simply because it is the right thing to do and because they can do so when others cannot. There is Collei, too, who lives freely as she does due to a combination of their efforts even when so many before them had forsaken her.

Madam Faruzan’s head is held high where she stands in a world years and years unfamiliar to her, and Layla, with the weight of her peers' expectations on her back, pushes past fear and uncertainty to follow her own path. They, too, carry the knowledge of who came before and entrust it to those who will come after.

The Traveller and Paimon, Hat Guy, Dehya, Candace, Nilou–everyone he has met in his slowly expanding social circle has their own small kindnesses and little decisions that completely counter the shade’s words.

And then, there is Kaveh. 

Kaveh, the idealist. Kaveh, the sun. Kaveh, bleeding heart and bleeding hands whose blood, sweat, and tears were poured into building a better world for others. Kaveh, who is part of that comfortable life that Alhaitham so dearly wished to protect, enough that he would go on to stage a successful coup of a centuries-old government for it. 

Kaveh, who hears what the shade says and condemns it all. 

Just as quickly as he had placed that diadem onto the pedestal, he takes it and shatters it on the ground. 

Even if Kaveh doesn’t know the extent of his entanglement with this diadem and Sachin, Alhaitham knows that he must be the one to confront the ghost within it.

There are some things that he cannot do for Kaveh. This is one of them. This is one of the illusions that Kaveh has to break from to find the truth for himself.

And as it did before, the forest holds its breath again. 

The wind stills, the morning dew hangs off the leaf’s tip, never falling, but—

But. 

There is a hum in the air, a coiling and restless energy like the hour before a storm. Something electric that stands the hairs up on end on Alhaitham’s arms and has Pichu’s cheeks sparking involuntarily as she huddles closer to him. 

So these are your ideals. Very well. I understand now, champion. The world you wish to see… I will help you realise it. 

And though nobody else seems to hear it except Alhaitham, Kaveh, and perhaps the Traveller, a sonorous voice rumbles in the air. 

Kaveh hisses then and fumbles for his pockets, even as his team cries out their sounds of alarm and scrambles to his side. 

He pulls out the black stone, now splintered through with cracks of electric blue. It pulses once and floats up out of his hands and into the air. Cyno darts to Kaveh’s side, too, drawing his staff, and his Lucario takes up position across from him, both taking up a defensive stance with him at the centre. 

The stone pulses bright blue again, and Alhaitham closes his eyes. 

His own research findings: the two stones were the dormant forms of Zekrom, the black dragon of ideals, and Reshiram, the white dragon of truth.

Lord Kusanali’s hypothesis was that they could be awakened by heroes who could match their resolve. She had given one to him and one to Kaveh—on purpose.

A blinding light hits the back of his eyes, and the smell of ozone stings his nose. A thundering roar cuts through the soundproofing on his earpieces, and when he opens his eyes again, all he sees is a deep black that blots out the sky. 

Even so, Kaveh steps forward, ducking under the cross of Cyno and Lucario’s staves, recognition and wonderment flashing in his eyes. 

“K-Kaveh…!” The Traveller’s little fairy companion cries out in alarm, and the outlander tugs her back, stepping forward with their sword in hand. “What the heck are you doing?!”

“No, I know you, don’t I? You’re…”

The great dragon that had come from the stone stands tall with spread wings, but even with all eyes on it, its own eyes are firmly fixed on Kaveh, red meeting red. A moment passes where they both stare at each other unblinkingly, then, with a slow dip of its head, the dragon begins to glow blue again, its form shrinking and condensing. 

And just like that, the dragon is gone again, leaving nothing but a black stone dropping into Kaveh’s outstretched hands and a wide-eyed crowd staring at him in shock and awe.

That… so the Deep Black has returned. Perhaps…

After the awards ceremony, Alhaitham quietly slips away from the crowd even as the Traveller and the rest of the competitors go up to congratulate Kaveh on his win. Even after witnessing the shade of Sachin appear and give his speech, only to have… everything that had happened happen afterwards, there was still something weighing on his mind: the cut-off word that the shade had been about to say, which, if he were correct, would confirm his suspicions. 

The event stage is already some ways out of the city, just at the limits, and with everyone preoccupied with the festive atmosphere, nobody notices him releasing Braviary and climbing onto his back in a few practised movements. Pichu tucks herself in the space between his back and his cape, her claws tiny pinprick points digging into his shirt.

With a flick of mighty wings, they take to the air, and Alhaitham closes his eyes for a moment as the sting of the wind forces them shut. A now familiar voice drifts past him, light as a wisp of summer cloud. 

Now then, truthseeker. How long until you find what you are looking for?

“You’ll know when the time comes,” he says, and the stone in his pocket seems to hum back again in quiet amusement. He opens his eyes again, looking out towards the desert where the Mausoleum of King Deshret stands, upturned towards the sky. 

“West,” he murmurs to Braviary. “We’re going to Aaru Village.”

Going there would take some time, and he isn’t exactly the most enthusiastic about returning there so soon after the second round had ended, but there are things that he must do, and he isn’t the type to leave behind unfinished business. In times like these, he somewhat envies the Traveller, who seems to have an uncanny ability to always be in the right place at the right time, gone and back again in the blink of an eye. Alhaitham has been out to the desert more often than the average scholar, though, and he trusts in Braviary enough to know how hard he can push himself. 

It is easy enough to ask around regarding Sachin and to find his final manuscript and all his research material. Reading it takes the better part of the afternoon and evening, and he more or less has gotten the gist of it by the time the Traveler and their companion come along. Whatever they chose to do with it after that was none of his business. He’d already gotten everything he needed from it, after all. 

The sun has long dipped past the horizon by the time they land back in the drop-off zone behind the Adventurer’s Guild in Sumeru City. Even at this late hour, Katheryne still gives him a polite word as he strides past with Braviary safely returned to his ball. Alhaitham makes a mental note to pick up some treats for him whenever he has time. While the flying-type had great stamina, there was only so much flying to and from the desert that he could handle before starting to get tired. 

It’s late enough that most of the shopkeepers on Treasures Street are closing up for the night, even though the odd few still stay open for the late-late night crowd and the occasional Rtawahist students. On any other day, he might have picked something up on the way home, but from what he gathers, it’s pretty likely that Kaveh probably saved something for him. 

Still, he buys a single kulfi from the uncle at the end of the street, who seems to only open at obscene hours for Pichu to lick away at as he begins to make the trek back home. 

He needs to sort through many things —mostly the stuff he learned from reading Sachin’s research notes. The entire thing was objectively bleak and depressing, and with how it was so clearly articulated and supported by Sachin’s findings, it would have been enough to make any ordinary person lose faith in the world.

That knowledge, sealed into the diadem… Kaveh’s father had been exposed to it, and even that little had been enough to change him completely. It had tried to change Kaveh too, but Kaveh—

He had already seen and experienced that suffering firsthand, hadn’t he? And he knew all too well what it could do to people. 

Kaveh, who tried taking on the burdens of the world. Kaveh, who pushed aside his own happiness for the sake of others. Kaveh, who felt too strongly the tragedies of the waking world but still woke up to face the sun each day because he was the kind of person who felt that as long as the sun was still shining, there was still something in life worth living for. 

He has to tell Kaveh. 

But Alhaitham doubts he is still awake at this hour and after all the events of the day, and he doesn’t especially feel like waking him up for it either. 

Then, of course, the white stone was still in his pocket. Kaveh had awakened the black one into the legendary dragon of ideals, which meant that surely his own would be…

Well. He knows what it would be. He just doesn’t want to deal with the implications of that on top of everything else he’s learned today while he’s tired and coated in sand. It’s an issue for tomorrow for sure. 

By the time he gets back, the house is dark. He takes his shoes off, sandy as they are, and locks the door behind him as he enters. The key goes into the bowl, and he tries to be as quiet as possible as he uses the glow of his Vision to make his way through the house. 

It was too late to let Braviary and Metagross out into the courtyard. They were probably both asleep anyway. Pichu, of course, would be headed straight to bed. From the patter of her paws against the floor as she makes a beeline towards his room, he’s sure that’s the case already. 

There’s something ironic about it, he muses. On any other day, Kaveh would stumble home after dark and Alhaitham would wait for him—that is, on the days that he wasn’t too drunk to get home by himself. 

Alhaitham isn’t exactly drunk, but this is the latest he’s come home in quite a while. Not even overtime during his stint as Acting Grand Sage had been so tiresome, yet for once, he doesn’t think he minds. As with many things related to Kaveh, he simply couldn’t bring himself to even if he tried. 

Moving from the hallway into the living room, he almost bumps into Reuniclus, who warbles a quiet apology as his large arms steady Alhaitham. 

The psychic-type tilts his head back and floats aside slightly, gesturing to the divan behind him. 

In the dark, the glow of Kaveh’s Vision brightens and dims in time with his breathing. His head lays on his arms, his body almost falling off the side of the divan. The black stone is held loosely in his hand, sitting there as if it wasn’t secretly an ancient dragon that had been responsible for the downfall of a kingdom. 

Alhaitham sighs slightly, but he can’t help the note of fond exasperation that slips into his tone. It’s been a long day for him too. He can let himself be a little obvious just this once… and alcohol and a full day’s worth of activity have always made Kaveh a heavy sleeper. 

Alhaitham lifts a finger to his lips as he motions to Reuniclus to quiet. He first slips the black stone into his pocket, then carefully slides his arms under Kaveh’s knees and around his back to lift him from the divan. Kaveh shifts slightly but otherwise doesn’t wake. He does, however, let out a soft breath and turn his face into Alhaitham’s arm. 

Last he had seen, Kaveh had already packed all his bags, ready to move out after the last round of the competition. Seeing as extenuating circumstances had changed those plans, and Alhaitham doesn’t think he’s even thought about beginning the process to unpack everything again, he’s also willing to bet that Kaveh’s bed is in no state to be slept in. 

That would leave him only one other choice, and faced with it… well, it isn’t much of a choice at all. 

Alhaitham pads down the hall to his own room and tilts his head meaningfully at the door. Thankfully, Reuniclus understands without needing to be told, and a soft glow surrounds the handle as he opens the door with his psychic power. Alhaitham nods thanks as he steps through and nods again as the same power pulls back the covers. 

He slides Kaveh down onto the bed and places both his Vision and the black stone onto the nightstand. He reaches for the hovering sheets, which fall into his grasp the moment he has a solid grip on them. He lays them over Kaveh, pulling the covers up to his chin. Part of his hair falls over his face, and Alhaitham reaches out to tuck it back behind his ear. 

It isn’t as if he’s in the habit of staring at people when they sleep, but like this, Alhaitham has always thought Kaveh looked … softer. 

Cliche as it was, there must have been something truthful to the matter if people kept bringing it up so much in romance novels and the like. 

Like this, Kaveh is just Kaveh. He may be the Light of the Kshahrewar, hero of ideals, genius architect and the rest of his grand and illuminated titles, but all of them were just parts of what made Kaveh… Kaveh — and in this house, he could rest safe and sound, where he did not need those titles. 

And that was enough. 

Before he closes the door, he let himself look back one last time, from Kaveh’s sleeping form to the black stone sitting innocently on his nightstand. 

“…Whatever expectations you have of him, whatever ideals that match your own… don’t expect him to simply be content with it.” He finally says. “Your recognition means nothing unless you have the strength of will to keep your word. If your ideals cannot meet my truths, then you should not have bothered awakening in the first place.”

The black stone offers no response as he shuts the door, but a faint hum of approval echoes in the back of his mind. 

Well-spoken, truthseeker. What many consider ideological conflict has never been rooted in correctness but in whose resolve is stronger. I wonder, then, if yours is strong enough to face his ideals should it come to that.

“There are no winners to that debate. You said it yourself. There is no such thing as ‘correctness’. There is only what the self stands to gain from such debates.”

Then tell me. What do you gain?

“Would you understand even if I told you?”

He gets no response after that, but he leaves it be. 

He doesn’t need beings of old to tell him what his relationship with Kaveh is or isn’t. 

When he checks the kitchen, there are several takeout boxes on the counter, long since gone cold. That hasn’t ever bothered him, though. If anything, it only bothers Kaveh, who, somehow, finds a way to complain about this, too. Something about how he wasn’t bothered to heat it up and just ate it as is, even though it would taste better hot. 

Hm. 

Not leftovers like he had thought, but dishes ordered specifically to take home. All of them are his favourites; Kaveh certainly didn’t seem to spare any expense when ordering for him. 

Later that night, long after he’s showered and eaten his fill, he sleeps in Kaveh’s room. The bed is stripped bare of its sheets and only has a threadbare pillow on it, but as Alhaitham closes his eyes, he takes comfort in the familiar scent of padisarahs and mourning flowers and lets it send him to sleep.

When Alhaitham wakes up the next morning, the house is unusually quiet. He soon finds out why. 

‘Out for a walk. I made naan and coffee. Just heat it up if you want it. Or don’t. Everyone has already eaten, including Pichu. You really need to stop spoiling her.’

A note in Kaveh’s neat cursive waits for him in the kitchen, pinned down with a small bowl of peeled harra fruits. 

Just as the note says, a pot of coffee and a covered plate of food are left for him, made just the way he likes it. There is still a hint of warmth to it when he reaches for it, which means that Kaveh couldn’t have been gone long. 

He makes his way through his usual morning routine. If he slept through the din of Kaveh cooking yesterday, he must have been much more exhausted than he thought yesterday. 

He pours himself a cup of coffee and takes the naan out into the courtyard. While he expects Braviary and Metagross to be there, it’s more surprising for Pidgeot and Reuniclus to be there. Even so, he takes his time making his way through it, tossing up pieces for the two flying-types to catch and eat for themselves. Pichu gets one entirely to herself, and she sits in the shade, making her way through it happily.

He finishes eating and leaves the pokémon out in the courtyard as he quietly makes his way back inside. He finishes his cup of coffee and gathers his things to get ready to go out. 

The white stone, his Vision, his earpieces, and two interlinked sets of keys. 

His feet follow a familiar route as he takes one of the spiralling paths up the Divine Tree. On any other day, he would normally take this route to work. However, the day had been declared a public holiday by Lord Kusanali in light of the festivities, and the entire Akademiya was taking advantage of it as best they could. What would have usually been a busy landing is totally empty, with only one person there. 

Kaveh is standing outside the main entrance to the Akademiya when Alhaitham finds him. He is looking out onto the city, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh. When Alhaitham draws closer, Kaveh breaks his gaze away from the horizon to look at him. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he says. “Where were you last night? You missed the party.”

“Out.” Alhaitham says simply.

“Out? Really? That’s all you’re going to say? Nothing like ‘Oh, by the way, senior, congratulations on your well deserved win. The stone I gave you that time was a humongous black dragon type from an ancient legend, actually.’ Symbol of protection my ass… I mean, really, what—what kind of symbol of protection is so… is so… why does it always have to be so much , with you?”

“I already gave you my congratulations at the end of the event, if you recall. And if you continue to recall, that stone was gifted to you by Lord Kusanali. If you have an issue with it, take it up with her.”

“I don’t have an issue with it! The one I have issue with is you! Disappears to who knows where after the event, doesn’t even have anything to say about this big dragon I’m taking care of now, and when I woke up this morning in your—“ 

At that, Kaveh flushes bright red, and he buries his face in his hands to cut himself off. Alhaitham thinks that this is a relatively minor thing to get caught up with, considering everything else that he’s done for the man before, but he lets it slide for the moment. 

“I was under the impression that I wasn’t welcome at your party. What did you say again? That I’d bring down the mood by just being in the vicinity—“

“—Ack, I get it, I get it! I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean that!” Kaveh says hurriedly. He also manages to look Alhaitham in the eyes as he says it, even though there is still a tinge of a flush high on his cheeks. 

“I would have invited you. You don’t— um. You wouldn’t bring the mood down. I meant to say. That was a joke,” he says, instantly cringing at his words. “No, it wasn’t. It was… you know.”

It was yet another of those unspoken things between the two of them. The things that Kaveh would say that would mean something else entirely. The barbed words that they threw at each other with the intent to agitate the other, only to come to regret in the moments after. Still, when Alhaitham remains silent, Kaveh coughs slightly. 

“Anyway. Reuniclus told me you came home late last night,” he says as if that wasn’t a conclusion he could easily reach on his own. “Where did you go that was so important you couldn’t come and celebrate with me?”

“Am I obligated to report to you my whereabouts at all times?”

This is where they fall back into a much more familiar rhythm, the easy back-and-forth between them in a language that only they know. 

But even as they do, Alhaitham knows that he will eventually have to bring up the elephant in the room. 

And he does. 

He does, and he watches Kaveh’s face cycle through abject shock, sorrow, guilt, exhaustion, and indignation, all in the span of a few minutes. 

He says his piece, and Kaveh falls silent once again. 

Alhaitham doesn’t make any move to leave, nor to come closer to Kaveh. He simply waits, and after a while, Kaveh finally looks up at him. 

“I… alright, fine. I mean it when I say… thank you for letting me know. I… I’ll need some time to work through all this, and I might have to send a letter… but… there’s just one thing… Why… '' Kaveh's voice cracks slightly on the last word, and when he looks at Alhaitham, there’s something so vulnerable and hopeful in his gaze; something that Alhaitham hasn’t seen in a long, long time, and something that he never thought he might see again. “For… for what reason did you do all this?”

“…For what reason do I do anything for you?”

Kaveh takes a shuddering breath. 

“Haitham, please— For Haravatat, you are so bad with words! Can’t you take pity on your poor senior for once— and just —“

Alhaitham takes a step forward and takes Kaveh’s hands in his own. They are warm and slightly calloused at the tips from his years of working with his tools. Whatever Kaveh had been meaning to say gets cut off with a small, choked noise. 

Alhaitham’s speciality has never been in using words to express himself. It isn’t to say he can’t do it— the issue lies in doing it well. The age-old Haravatat debate is always about whether something means what it says, says what it means, or everything in between. Much like truth, meanings can be taken all kinds of ways from Inazuma and back. Meaning and truth are subjective, and what someone might say is a dog could be a cat to someone else. Communicating it to others in a way everyone understands is often the hardest part, and often the part that goes wrong somewhere with Alhaitham and Kaveh. 

But sometimes, actions speak louder than words and are clearer than them, too. 

When Alhaitham tilts his head down to catch Kaveh’s lips in a soft kiss, he knows that it cannot be understood in any other way. 

(Because Kaveh is his truth. He always has been.)

A few seconds later, he pulls away but doesn’t let go of Kaveh’s hands. Those few seconds were enough, as scant and chaste as they were. When he stops, Kaveh is looking back at him with wide eyes, shiny with the unshed tears of many emotions. 

“That is my final answer. You need not reply now or ever, but I should hope that it is enough for you,” Alhaitham says quietly. At that, Kaveh swallows and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, a voice rings loud in Alhaitham’s head, clearer than he’s ever heard it. 

So this is what your truth means to you. Very well, my champion. Let us see where those truths lead, shall we?

“Kaveh—!“

“What— Haitham, you—? Why—?”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s—“

He breaks away from Kaveh as the stone in his pocket burns hot against his hip. He plucks it out swiftly and tosses it onto the ground. 

Instead of hitting the smooth stone of the Sumeru City walkways, however, it hovers some distance off the ground in the air, swirled through with bright orange in the colour of flame. 

It rises into the air, with the orange glowing brighter and brighter as it does. In the split second after it pulses brightly, Alhaitham throws himself in front of Kaveh, pulling him close and throwing his cape up to cover them both. A wave of heat hits his back, and a cry like a roaring fire fills the air. 

He turns, and sees only white. 

“Haitham…?” Kaveh murmurs from behind him, but just this once, Alhaitham does not turn to meet him. Instead, he casts his gaze up–up to the piercing blue eyes of the white dragon of ideals. Its crest flows gently in the air behind it, and its wings are spread wide. 

Alhaitham looks it in the eye and says–

“You couldn’t have picked a better time to do this?”

Kaveh makes a choked sound behind him, but the dragon is silent. It gazes at Alhaitham wordlessly and closes its eyes. Then, it tosses its head, letting out something that might be a chuff of a laugh.

It opens its eyes again, and it meets Alhaitham’s eyes again and dips its head. It glows a burnished vermillion and begins to shrink back into something small and round.

Alhaitham reaches out his arm.

The stone falls back into his hand, and he pockets it without a moment’s hesitation. 

A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye has him glancing over to the Akademiya’s entrance.

He meets the eyes of the timid-looking scholar peeking out of the barely open doors of the Akademiya, and she quickly looks away, shutting the door. Smart of her, really. He just hopes she has the same discretionary foresight when making an incident report to the Matra, who will undoubtedly be looking into the source of the commotion. 

For now, though, he turns his attention back to Kaveh, who looks at him with a rather inscrutable expression. 

“Lofty ideals may provide no defence at all against nihilism, but perhaps little decisions can. By their own choice, the idealist seeks to bring happiness to all, while denying themselves the same. Thus they shall never reach even the borders of truth until they wipe away the ignorance that blinds them...” Kaveh recites and then shakes his head. When he looks back at Alhaitham, though, he is smiling, if not helplessly. “Haha… Even saying such things, it’s so very… you.”

“I am as I am, and nothing more or less,” Alhaitham says back to him, and Kaveh huffs out something between a sigh and a laugh, the sound of it blending perfectly with the warm Sumeru air. 

“I should have known, shouldn’t I?” Kaveh says, half to himself and half to Alhaitham. “Of course it would be you… It’s just like us to be so… so… opposed, yet complimentary.”

Because if Kaveh was the hero of ideals, then Alhaitham could only be the hero of truths. Only the two of them could bring out each other's inherent qualities, and only the two of them were suited to awaken the dragons of old. 

Even if that war had been fought between truth and ideals, those dragons had once been a single being. Even though Alhaitham and Kaveh have fought and have never come to an agreement, they still come back to each other at the end of the day. Black and white, aquamarine and crimson. Just as those dragons were reflections of each other, so too were they. And just as reflections were different, yet the same, the only one who could ever match Alhaitham in any way that mattered was Kaveh. 

Only now does Alhaitham completely understand Lord Kusanali’s intent in giving those stones to him and Kaveh, even if it was more trouble than it was worth. 

“Oh? And here I thought you’d never get around to reading the notes I left for you.”

And once again, Kaveh scowls, but this time, it is different. He does so with all the energy of a cat mildly affronted at being given a different kind of food than usual, with one hand coming up to punch Alhaitham’s shoulder lightly. 

“Ugh! You— you’re so insufferable! Why wouldn’t I read them?” He says, rolling his eyes. “One of these days, you could actually ask me directly instead of leaving them around the house like a cat leaves their catches around for people to find, you know.”

“Hm.”

Personally, he still thought Kaveh was more like a cat between the two of them.

“Oh, forget it,” Kaveh says, shaking his head slightly in exasperation. “In any case… It does look like I won't be moving out any time soon after all though. I’ll have to trouble you a little longer.”

“Shall I add an inconvenience fee to your rent, then?”

“Hah?!”

“That was a joke,” Alhaitham says. “I was joking.”

“It’s not very good. You’re picking up all the wrong things from Cyno.”

He isn’t sure what kind of expression shows on his face at that moment, but Kaveh laughs and closes the distance between them again. A beat passes where something like hesitation flickers in his eyes, but it passes, and he closes the last heartbeat of space between them, throwing his arms around Alhaitham in a tight embrace. His head drops down onto Alhaitham’s shoulder, his breath coming out in soft puffs against his bare skin. 

Instinctively, his arms rise to return the hug, and his hands find their way onto the open planes of Kaveh’s back. 

“I’m going to give you a proper reply soon,” Kaveh murmurs quietly into his shoulder. “This is… it’s a lot. And… I know that we haven’t always been the best to each other. But I don’t want that for us any longer. Not when you’ve given me your answer. I can’t promise it’ll be soon, or it’ll be easy, but I’m going to try. I owe you that much, of all things. I… hope you can try, too. But for right now though… It’s enough. It’s more than enough. And you’ve been more than enough for me, too.”

He tips his head back at that, and looks Alhaitham in the eyes, mouth pressed into a thin line of determination. 

“So… thank you, and I’m sorry.”

But what was there to be sorry about? For not yet putting a name to this thing that existed between them? For the parts of it that had been ripped apart and stitched back together haphazardly, fraying at the seams but still connected? 

“Need I say it again? You should save your apologies for someone whom they’re actually owed.”

They both had their own faults to acknowledge and make amends for. It wouldn’t be easy, but Alhaitham wasn’t so prideful as to deny that he was entirely blameless either. There was no use dwelling on the past: there was only what could be done from now on. Whatever that was, they could figure that out together. 

“I’m freely offering it to you for once, and this is the time you don’t want to accept it?” Kaveh returns in slight affront, and Alhaitham shakes his head. 

“Keep it. If you must give them, then give them alongside your proper reply.”

“You’re really so…” Kaveh says helplessly. He gives one last squeeze of his arms before stepping away, but he slips his hand into Alhaitham’s own and threads their fingers together. “Fine. I think that’s enough from you. Honestly.”

He blinks then and looks around at their surroundings, seeming to abruptly realise where they are. It was lucky enough that there was hardly anyone around. Sometimes, it really did help that the Akademiya was the second-highest facility built on the Divine Tree.  

“We should probably get going. Who knows who saw or heard your little display just now, I’m sure you don’t want the attention, so… hm, how about we go get lunch? Puspa? It’ll be my treat.”

“Fine with me. Many thanks to senior for the meal.”

Kaveh pinks slightly at that, and looks away. Hm. How interesting. Perhaps there were benefits to calling him senior again outside of trying to make a point. 

“Now why’d you have to say it like that?” Kaveh mutters, half covering his face with his free hand. “Really… calling me senior only when it suits you…” 

“Should I not, then?”

“Hey, now I didn’t say that! Alhaitham—! Oh, whatever. Let’s just go, okay? Before I change my mind!”

Kaveh turns and heads down the path leading down from the Akademiya. Hand in hand, Alhaitham lets himself be pulled along, following after Kaveh in the bright, afternoon sun. 

.

.

.

.

.

A week later, Lord Kusanali is sitting in his much smaller Scribe’s office, helping herself to a bowl of cut fruit as he finishes writing up the last of the reports regarding the Interdarshan Championship. 

“You knew before you gave them to me,” he says without looking up from his work. 

“Hehe, didn’t I say I had a hypothesis? I’m just pleased that it was correct,” she replies airily. 

“I’m sure that by now, your research has led you to the origin of the stones, so I’ll keep it short. Hopefully, this will fill in any missing spots in your research, if there are any.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I found them while organising the relic archives of the previous administration. An archaeological team recovered them from the desert sometime after the Cataclysm and my weakening and brought them back to the Akademiya. I believe that the researchers of then, too, conducted the appropriate amounts of research that led them to the same conclusions as you, but were unable to awaken them as none held the values of truth and ideals that you and Master Kaveh have. 

“The Grand Sage of that time seemed to be especially interested in the authority it could grant them. Perhaps that was when they started looking into ways to construct their own god… Well, I’m sure you know by now that those dragons would not support a cause as ignoble as that. In any case, those dragons really do only awaken for the right kind of person. 

“And so, they were written off as a lost cause and hidden away, in case some curious scholar stumbled across those records and managed to awaken them outside the sages’ control.”

Alhaitham signs off on one final document and sets his pen down to look at her. 

“Then, what comes next?”

“That may be something you have to answer yourself,” she says with a small smile. “The Vast White has recognised you as its champion now, the one who upholds its truths most strongly.

On the other hand, the Deep Black has recognised Master Kaveh. But the days where there may have been a need for heroes of truth or ideals are long over, and what remains are two dragons from long ago that now bow their heads to you both. However, I’m sure that as long as you remain true to yourself, you will be able to live the life you want without any issue.”

“Hmm…”

Still, Alhaitham can’t help but wonder about one final thing that hadn’t resolved itself…

“The legend goes that there were two dragons, but all signs seem to imply there should be a third. The remnants of when the dragon split itself.”

Lord Kusanali blinks at him for a moment before the smile on her face widens.

“How astute of you! You’re truly meticulous in your research, aren’t you, Alhaitham? You needn’t worry about the third dragon. I’ve entrusted the matter of that to someone else. I just hope that they’ll get along… Which is perhaps all I’ll say about that for now.”

She gets to her feet, smoothing down the folds of her dress, and beams back at Alhaitham.

“Now then… Enjoy the rest of your day, hero of truth. I’ll be headed off now!”