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Saiou began his day as he usually ended it: alone, but not lonely.
The walls that surrounded him were small, homey. The blinds were always kept open to receive the morning’s greetings as well as the evening’s farewells. When he had been discharged for a second time from the hospital a few years ago, his younger sister found him and dragged him to the mountains for his health. The pair have been living together since, though Mizuchi spends most of her time at the local shrine anyway.
In between the lull of the passing hours, he still read fortunes here and there–mostly for children and the elderly that see him on their way to the temple, those of which pay him with popsicles or homemade tea blends. However, his predictions were not set in stone as they once were. Among the smiles and laughter he shared with the shrine’s many visitors, he learned that he enjoyed it much more that way.
As the sun slowly rises in the sky, Saiou flows to the kitchen to break his fast. He begins to boil water for chai, crushing cardamom and ginger while he waits.
While pouring milk into the mix, Saiou burns himself on the rim of the pot. His wince evaporates from his lips as he studies his hand for any lasting injury. Instead he finds, on the crown of his middle knuckle, a white freckle. The small mark puzzled him–had it always been there? He often covered his hands with his sleeves and could not recall. Maybe it was a gift from trying to cook with an oil that sputtered too hot. Compared to Mizuchi, he was far less careful when it came to the temperamental ingredient.
Before he could continue his pondering, the landline rang. Quickly turning off the stove, he makes his way to the phone. “Hello?”
A soft voice answers him. “Saiou? This is Edo.”
“Edo,” Saiou mirrored, “Good morning–what time is it for you currently?”
“Good morning. It is morning for me, too–I landed in Tokyo not long ago.” A muffled yawn is heard through the receiver. “Anyway, would you like to get lunch later?”
“Just landed? Wouldn’t you prefer to rest?” Saiou leans his head against the wall, the sun warming his back.
“That’s why I’m offering lunch instead of anything sooner,” he laughs. “I know it’s short notice.”
Saiou bites back a yawn of his own. “I would. It has been some time since we have caught up. Will it be the usual place?”
“Yes. Meet me there around 12pm?”
“Alright. 12pm it is.”
“Great,” Edo’s smile is bright even though Saiou cannot see it. “I’ll see you then.”
The call ends and Saiou places the phone back onto its pedestal. From there he returns to the stove. He catches himself glowing as he pours his drink from the pot into a well loved mug.
His chai is still blessedly warm.
-
Spring was turning into summer, the few remaining flowers framed by seas of green. The two hours by train went by in a flash, roaring landscapes that Saiou had grown accustomed to giving way to the familiar metallic sheen of Tokyo.
When the train doors open and mark his official arrival, he tries his best to not immediately drown in the sea of people. This city, like any other, is overwhelming to someone who has acclimated to the quiet countryside. Despite his sweaty palms, Saiou does his best not to panic and slowly makes his way to their usual cafe.
Edo stayed short over the years, but he was still easy to spot in a crowd. Even with a face mask and a cap covering his hair, the young man had a powerful aura surrounding him. Saiou could find him anywhere.
“Good afternoon,” Saiou smiles as he walks up to him. “I hope I have not kept you waiting.”
“No, you’re good. I just got here.”
Saiou takes a quick glance over the silver-haired duelist and notes the flushed cheeks that peek over his mask. He must’ve been waiting for at least ten minutes underneath direct sunlight for him to be so red. His arms are dusting pink, too.
“Well, let us go inside. I do not want you to burn up anymore than you already have.”
The taller of the two walks inside without a look back–already familiar with the hidden and astonished curl of Edo’s lips.
-
Both men bow in polite greeting to the waitress, a young woman who leads them to their usual table in the back.
In the cool of the cafe, the pair are able to let out a breath. While Saiou had a stronger tolerance to the heat, the hustle and bustle of the city did not help–even while forsaking his earrings and tying his hair back into a low braid. Edo couldn’t help but fan himself with his shirt, exposing more of his sweaty skin. The taller man lets himself stare.
“Every time I see you, I feel like I discover a new star.” Saiou’s gaze catches onto a freckle on the duelist’s elbow. Edo was littered in them. His skin was an expansive sky–every mark a star, every cluster a constellation.
“It’s probably because I’m usually in a suit. Casual clothing is a rarity for me,” Edo preens his hair for a second, “Since I only dress like this when I see you.”
“What an honor to witness it, then,” Saiou lilts with a smile, blinking when Edo suddenly looks away, likely still flushing from the heat.
At that very moment, the waitress arrives at their table. The two put in their order: oolong tea with a fruit tart for Saiou, and an americano with a croissant for Edo. Throughout their shared meal, the two caught up–as they usually do.
“How has your dueling been holding up?”
“Nowhere near yours, that I am sure, but I do duel occasionally. I think a good number of the monsters in my deck frighten the younger children–even though we do not use the holograms. I am challenged mostly by teenagers and an interesting number of adults,” the taller man smiles as he takes a sip of his tea.
“I’m sure they keep you on your toes,” Edo says with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll go down to challenge some of the townsfolk. Or I could challenge you again–I’m sure you’re still as strong as I remember.”
“I think the children would be ecstatic to have the Edo Phoenix dueling them.” Saiou’s smile only grows.
“Yeah? Would Saiou Takuma be ecstatic for a visit from the Edo Phoenix, too?”
Something about Edo’s gaze on him reminds him of the heat outside: inescapable and overwhelming, yet familiar. Like home. Feeling blood pool in his cheeks, he takes another sip before answering.
“Of course, though I hope I do not see you making that journey just for me alone–Mizuchi would appreciate your company as well.”
"Actually, that reminds me," Edo pats a napkin at the corners of his lips, "Are you busy next weekend?"
"I do not have anything planned," Saiou's voice is soft, curious. "Why do you ask?"
"I was invited to a gala in New York. I'd like you to be my plus one."
"I'm flattered–but it’s been a long time since I was your manager. Not to mention that I am not the best at parties. I believe I am something of an odd pick." The true question is left unspoken. Why me?
Edo's gaze is solely on him, and Saiou holds it. "I know; but I'd feel better if you were there."
The long haired man holds a hum before releasing a sigh. "Alright." He wasn’t going to turn him down, anyway. “You’re difficult to say no to,” he smiles.
A smirk meets him halfway, “Good thing it works in my favor.”
-
Edo had many places to stay in New York, especially Manhattan. This condo was new. Saiou was not fond of the city, but the silent view of the skyline put him at ease. After the silver-headed duelist insisted on taking their luggage up himself, he gave Saiou a copy of his key.
"I have an event to go to in a bit, but please make yourself at home. Flying takes a lot out of you, and I know everything about New York is overwhelming."
It's been a while since Saiou had returned to the States, so the fact that Edo remembered how difficult it was for him warmed him. He bit back a smile as their fingers brushed. In the exchange, he noticed a particular freckle on the tip of the duelist's middle finger.
"I'll get some groceries sent over so we don't have to eat out. We can cook here."
"Thank you," Saiou nods. “And Edo?”
“Yes?”
“Do try to enjoy yourself at the event,” the older man pauses, “And don’t pick fights.”
Edo smirks, “No promises.”
-
When Edo returns, he still looks as pristine as he had when he left. If he had gotten into a fight, he at least had no evidence left on him. Saiou chuckles to himself as he stirs a pot.
“Smells really good,” Edo smiles.
“I am glad you think so. You came back sooner than I thought you would. It should be ready in a few minutes.”
“I can help–” Saiou raised his hand gently, pausing Edo’s train of thought.
“Remember the last time you tried to help me in the kitchen?” He gives him a look.
The duelist's cheeks bloom like cherry blossoms, embarrassed. “Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”
Saiou laughs. “That it was. Still, It is alright–I am not the only one who has had a long day. I appreciate it, Edo.”
As the long haired man floated from place to place, Edo lingered. It was not uncommon nor unwelcomed–Saiou is used to feeling the duelist’s gaze on him more often than not. Yet something about this felt different. Maybe it had been due to the distance that had settled between them over the past few years or even due to the nostalgia that preceded it. They had lived together while Saiou was possessed by the light and even some time afterwards, before they separated due to Edo’s demanding career.
It was not something Saiou lamented. They did not belong in the same world. It was a truth as solid as destiny.
“I’ll set the table.”
Saiou was about to open his mouth to say that he would handle it, but Edo was gone before he could get a single word out. Edo was efficient, as he always is, and made it back to Saiou’s side with two plates in tow.
“Would you not like to change?” Saiou’s eyes traced Edo’s form.
“I’m more than used to wearing this suit,” Edo teases with a smile. Saiou nods his agreement after a moment of thinking. “Plus, it’s nice to spend time with you. It’s been a while since we’ve been together like this. I don’t want to waste a second of it.”
Saiou’s heart skips as he takes the plates out of Edo’s hands. “Let us enjoy dinner then.”
-
After their meal, Edo insisted on doing the clean up. The long-haired man would have forced them to at least do it together, but the length of their travels had caught up to him and he let his body sink into the living room couch. As his dazed eyes take a look around, he finds the beauty of the condo within the night.
“It is a nice place,” Saiou yawns softly.
“Do you like it?” Edo asks, who had walked over not long ago and was now seated at his side.
“I do,” his indigo gaze meets azure. “I do not see myself ever permanently returning to this city, but this place–it is nice.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Edo states in that genuine and intense way of his, “Always.”
“Thank you.” Truthfully, Saiou did not know what else to say.
And so the conversation sizzled, the warmth between them remaining in the gentle brush of their shoulders.
-
When Saiou made it to the dining room the next morning, breakfast had already been prepared. There were croissants, eggs, and sliced fruit. At the center of it all stood Edo, who removed a tea kettle from the stove.
As Edo poured their tea, Saiou watched him. His back was straight, his hands were steady, and his freckles were twinkling. Starstruck, the older of the two decides to focus on how the duelist’s bedhead descended long past his shoulders.
“Your hair,” Saiou notes, “It has grown longer.”
Edo hums, “Thanks for reminding me. I need a trim.” He had finished pouring the tea. As he slides Saiou’s cup towards him, he keeps his fingertips on the saucer when he asks his question. “Would you like to do the honors?”
Now caught in Edo’s own gaze, Saiou’s eyes widened. “I am very out of practice.”
“You used to do it all the time.”
“Yes, but that was before–” His voice catches in his throat.
He did not like to reminisce as much as the younger of the two did. Saiou tightens his lips and Edo’s hand retreats.
“Yeah, you’re right. My bad.” He takes a sip of the tea. Then, with a low smirk hidden by the cup, he teases, “I couldn’t show up to the gala with botched hair, anyway. Could you imagine the tabloids?”
“It would be a disaster,” Saiou gives an empty chuckle. The thought festers and the man’s grip tightens on his cup. “Your fans would have my head.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Edo says easily, looking out the window to glance at the rising sun.
And once again, Saiou’s heart eases as his view is saturated by the silver-haired duelist and the soft halo that forms around his pajama-clad form.
-
Like the inevitableness of fate, the night of the gala was upon them.
Saiou looked at himself in the mirror. He was regaled in a dark magenta kurta, an open nehru jacket, pink lilac jodhpuri pants, and a rich velvet dupatta which wrapped around his forearm and shoulder. Joining his signature earrings, a moti mala glimmered atop his breast.
His garments fit him well, though a bit looser than he would like. He wasn’t as thin as he was when he was possessed, but even after that light left his body, he found it impossible to put on weight, let alone keep it.
“It has been a while since I have worn this,” Saiou’s nervousness shows through the curve of his brow, “Not to mention that moti male are traditionally worn for weddings. Are you sure it looks alright?”
Edo had been staring at him for sometime, his fingertips ghosting his lips as a word soundlessly escaped them. He clears his throat. “If you don’t like it, I’m sure we could find a tailor to do a last minute job, but this–” the duelist pauses, “I think it suits you perfectly.”
“You are too kind,” the words are like a balm to Saiou’s nerves, “I know how important your image is to your career. I do not wish to blemish it in any way.”
“That wouldn’t happen,” Edo states with a certainty that cannot be argued, “And even if it did, it wouldn’t matter; not to me at least. You’re my–” he turns to the mirror and straightens his tie, “You’re important to me–more so than my image.”
A knot of flowers and leaves clogs Saiou’s throat. He hums in acknowledgement.
“It means a lot that you’re here,” Edo stares at them through their reflection, his hand finding Saiou’s and squeezing it in comfort, just how Saiou had done with him years past. “Trust me.”
“I do. I always trust you,” Saiou says as easily as breathing, and the hand around his own tightens. “...I am just somewhat nervous.”
“We’ll leave whenever you want to. No matter how early it is, yeah?”
“Edo, you do not have to. This is an important gala for duelists.”
“Why not? Why wouldn’t I do this for you?”
Blue eyes shone underneath the lights in a way that made Saiou pause–he wasn’t sure if he would be able to say anything else, lest his tongue betray him. The duelist was about to speak again when his phone rang. Taking a quick glance at it, he sighs. “Chauffeur’s here.”
The pair make their way down. As usual, Edo did not let the chauffeur open or close any of the doors for him–nor Saiou. With Edo’s personality, he’s sure that it is something the chauffeur has long learned about him. Now seated, buildings and lights flash by through the window, reflected in wide, indigo eyes. The night has just begun.
-
The gala is exactly as Saiou expected: luxurious and overbearing. Over the years as Edo’s manager, he had learned to carry himself with the grace and power expected from him, but after years of living a quiet life, he wasn’t sure his bravado was as strong as it used to be. Yet, as if sensing his peril, Edo offers his arm and a warm gaze. “I’m here.”
It’s all Edo says. It’s all he needs to say.
Slipping his arm into Edo’s own, he looks to the future and walks alongside him.
-
The evening passes smoothly, all things considered. Saiou does not recognize anyone until he happens to hear the telltale crack of Edo’s spat.
“And here I thought this was a professional’s only event,” the silver-haired man’s smirk is sharp like the edge of a blade.
“Can it,” Manjoume rolls his eyes, “I’m more of a professional than you’ll ever be.”
“Your results say otherwise.”
Swallowing a sigh, Saiou walks up to the two duelists with an elegant stride.
“Saiou,” Edo’s smile immediately softens at the sight of him, and in a smooth motion he links their arms together, “Thunder, you remember Saiou Takuma, yeah?”
“How could I forget?”
At his tone, Saiou frowns. He knows his reputation while possessed preceded him, and it was clear that the other duelist was nothing less than apprehensive with his presence.
So, Saiou bows his head, his hair cascading over his shoulders. “It is good to see you again, Manjoume-san. I hope you have been well.”
Manjoume, who is now even more visibly alert, bows back. The taller man thought the thunder would’ve scampered off, but he seemed entranced by their skinship. It wasn’t until another voice called for him that he tore his gaze away. After a long blink in Manjoume’s direction, Saiou glanced down to Edo.
“Don’t give me that look. I kept my promise–I’m having fun and not starting fights.” His smile is even bigger now.
The taller of the two gave a soft snort before turning away and returning to whence he came.
-
As the hours continued to pass, Saiou found himself people-watching. Little to no other guests came to converse with him, something he was not surprised about. Even before his possession, he was naturally standoffish. He wondered if the night would continue on like this; until slowly, the lights dimmed and the ceiling shone like the night sky as a melody swam around the gala.
Then like a hero revealing himself from the shadows, Edo appeared before him.
"May I have this dance?" Edo asks, his hand outstretched.
Saiou couldn’t hide his smile. How very like him, he thinks. "Yes," Saiou whispers as the star on his fingertip winks at him, "You may."
Rising from his seat, the pair find a secluded portion of the dancefloor to call their own. The two come closer like the earth and the moon, locked by their tide.
Edo held Saiou's hand in his own. The long-haired man’s breath caught in his throat.
Eclipse.
Astute as ever, sky blue eyes soften his fall. "What is it?"
When no words are able to form on his tongue, Edo's gaze follows the line of his own and lands on their hands. He shifts and notices the white freckle on Saiou's knuckle–still, that wasn't what the taller man was looking at. He furrows his brow–until he finds its counterpart on his own finger. They fit perfectly.
“Oh.”
Suddenly the hand on Saiou's waist tightens, pulling him even closer. Then, in a gesture only befitting someone as brilliant as Edo, he brings Saiou's knuckles to his lips, kissing the mark before once more intertwining their hands.
"You know," he whispers, a shy smile catching the light, “Sometimes… Destiny isn’t so bad.”
Saiou hums at that. Then, with a newfound bravery, he leans his cheek onto Edo’s hair and closes his eyes, the swell of the music leading them together.
-
Even when the song ends and the pair separate, the magic continues to waft, floating like a melody of their shared heartbeat. Edo and Saiou leave the gala shortly after that, unable to ignore the fated feelings between them.
The two do not release each other for the rest of the night. Not during the drive back, not during their ascension, not until the two bid each other good night and retire to their own rooms.
-
Saiou jolts awake–a scream about to leave his throat.
It had been months since he’s had that nightmare; a world shrouded in darkness, perilous and merciless, Edo shining in the midst of it before being consumed by it and leaving nothing behind. Years have been plagued by the same dream. It was either that, or the dream of Edo dying at his own hand, drowned in light. Either way, bile clawed its way up his esophagus with a powerful threat.
His trembling hands gripped his sheets and a layer of sweat made his blood run cold. He was in no shape to return to his slumber. Above all else, he needed to make sure Edo was safe. Shaky legs take him from his room to the next, and with all the strength he can muster he knocks on the door.
First, there is silence. Saiou’s mind swims and his eyes water and–
Then the door opens, and a steadfast gaze quickly becomes alert–protective. One warm hand intertwines with Saiou’s and the other traces up his forearm and holds him.
“I’m here,” he says, and the taller man almost lets out a sob. Running his hand over Saiou’s sweaty skin and looking into his quivering eyes, Edo deduces. “Bad dream?”
Saiou nods.
Edo squeezes his hand, “Let’s stay up together then.”
-
“You know,” Saiou whispers, “I have been watching Astro Boy again. It is on air back home.”
The pair had been talking about anything and everything, but the long-haired man had the rare desire to look back to the past as Edo rubbed soothing circles into his palm.
“Astro Boy?” He can hear the smile in Edo’s voice, “That takes me back. Maybe I should rewatch it too.”
“You would get so excited when your father put it on.”
“So would you! You looked forward to it as much as I did.”
“It was both your and my favorite show for some time,” Saiou chuckles, “But I think you had me pretty beat. You loved Astro Boy so much that you called yourself after him–well, not exactly.”
Edo was beginning to turn pink from embarrassment, but he squeezed Saiou’s hand and urged him to continue his retelling of their shared memory.
“You thought his name was Aster Boy, and for the longest time you called yourself that. That is how the nickname stuck.”
Despite their shared smiles, there’s a beat of sadness that hums between them. After all, they are the only two left alive who remember that name and its meaning.
“You can call me that again, if you’d like. It would be nice to hear it from you.”
Saiou was thankful for the darkness surrounding them, as his eyes glistened with tears.
“It would be an honor.”
-
The next morning, Saiou awoke to a soft sky blue gaze.
“I must have slept in,” his voice is deep as he stretches, his back arching along the sheets, “Have I kept you?”
“I don’t have anything planned today,” Edo responds, “I didn’t want you to wake up alone after your nightmare.”
“Thank you,” Saiou hides the thrum of his heart in his words. “I am alright.”
“Up for breakfast?”
“Not yet–maybe just tea.”
“Wait here, I’ll have it ready for you.”
And without another word, Edo rose from the bed and headed off to the kitchen.
Saiou did wait for a couple of minutes, but he decided he didn’t want to drink tea in bed anyway.
“I was going to bring it to you.” He could hear the smile in the silver-haired duelist’s voice.
“Maybe another time then,” Saiou tilted his head, his slippers shuffling along the wood floor.
“It’s a promise.”
Edo’s back was to him. He stayed that way for a couple of more minutes before the silence was broken. “Here,” he says, handing him a warm mug, “For you.” The taller man nods his thanks, not thinking much of the intense stare the duelist was giving him.
When Saiou tasted it, he blinked in surprise. It was chai. His chai. Wide indigo eyes capture Edo’s own.
“I managed to not burn it this time,” Edo’s face pinkened. “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t figure out the recipe on my own. I tried, but I kept making it wrong. In the end, I had to call Mizuchi.”
It was a gesture that needed no explanation.
Carefully, Saiou thinks about everything that has transversed over the past few days–even the past few years. “Edo,” his heart quivers but his voice does not, “Is this why you invited me?”
A pause. “It feels silly to admit it, but yes.”
Saiou breaks into a smile so wide it hurts. He turns away from the duelist, both endeared and embarrassed. He could not hide his gleeful chuckle. “Aster–this must be why I see stars within you.”
He hears Edo’s sharp inhale and it gives him the courage to turn back. Like him, Edo is wide-eyed and flushed, though it is far more obvious on his complexion.
“To me, you are the moon–guiding me through the darkness with your light. Saiou Takuma–” He pauses again. “Would you continue to stay by my side?”
The long-haired man flushes. “There is nothing I want more,” he says, then takes another sip of chai.
A smile that rivals Saiou’s own blooms on Edo’s face, and the duelist reaches over to intertwine their hands. The remaining words that lived between them need not be said.
-
The final day comes, and it is time to say goodbye to New York.
Travel still comes easy to Saiou despite it being exhausting. He plans, packs, watches Edo do the same, occasionally gets lost in those azure eyes of his, and above all, stands at his side.
Transiting through the sky, their flight feels like it both stretches for an eternity and passes in the blink of an eye. Tokyo welcomes the pair, though both are destined to depart just as soon–Saiou back to his sister and Edo back to wherever his career takes him. Tears overtake both of them at their farewells, the taller man bowing down to press his forehead against his partner’s own, their breaths becoming one.
“I’ll call you as soon as I land,” Edo whispers, burying himself in Saiou’s long neck.
Like a crescent, Saiou curls around him. “Please do.”
The silver-haired duelist gives him one final squeeze before pulling away. Indigo eyes watch him go until his shine is lost in the sea of people.
His footsteps guided Saiou in the opposite direction, from one home to another. Edo had been a home too, long before Saiou ever realized. Destiny had led him to Edo, and it was destiny for Saiou to be saved by him. That same destiny separated them and reunited them many times but now, cradled between their hearts was a devotion that was–is–stronger than the threads of fate. His choices were his own, and he chose to love Edo Phoenix, just as Edo chose to love him.
Yes, he thought, a warm smile blossoming on his face, he enjoyed life far more like this.
Decidedly star-crossed.