Chapter Text
Akechi Goro is all of seven and a half years old when he learns where his mother came from.
His beloved mother, who hangs the moon and the stars in the sky and suffers under the sunlight for it, reveals it one twilit-evening in their room, staring out of the frosted windows of their balcony and picking at her food. She doesn’t eat very much, Goro always notices. She smiles and says he needs it more so he can grow big and strong when he presents as an Alpha, but he worries regardless. If he has to eat all his vegetables, she should too. The knobs of her delicate wrists work under her skin as she tears the simple bread to shreds and says so quietly, “Rin was right.”
Goro hears it, and with his typical curiosity, he asks who Rin is. He almost regrets it for the look on her face—surprise and heartache and anger and sadness and a wild, desperate panic—scares him. His mama has never looked at him like that, and he shrinks back before her face smooths out. The tiredness in her eyes is a little deeper now and her smile a little more fake when she explains.
Rin, it turns out, is one of Mama’s friends from back home. Where she grew up, where she left when she went North after meeting his papa. His mama tells him, voice soft and thin, that Rin was one of her best friends, and was worried about her when she left. Rin had told her that his papa wasn’t very nice, and they’d fought about it before she left.
His mama tells him, tired and sad, that she wishes she’d listened to Rin. “She was always right about the worst things,” his mama says wistfully. “Cruel in the fairest way. I doubt she even remembers me now, it’s been so long…”
And his mama trails off, her eyes wandering back to that balcony window, and if Goro were still paying attention he might be frightened again by the look in her eyes.
But he isn’t.
So he isn’t.
No one pays attention to Goro when he wanders into the scribe’s room, aside from glancing up, scoffing, and looking back down. He’s used to that. No one cares when he’s places he’s not supposed to be unless it’s his papa’s friends. Then they care way too much.
But none of the scribes are papa’s friends, and they don’t care when he walks by an empty desk, and takes a pencil, some paper, wax, and the fanciest seal he can find. Later, he’ll hear that a scribe was fired for losing something important, but he doesn’t put two and two together. He’s got more important things to think about.
To Mama’s friend Rin,
How are you? My name is Akechi Goro and I am seven and three quarters years old and my mama misses you a lot.
Her name is Suzume, and she’s very pretty, and her hair is long and brown and her eyes are the color of the good red dirt under all the snow. She has a very nice smile except when she’s sad and she’s really sad right now because she misses you.
She says you probably don’t remember her, so that’s why I disk ducrib talked about what she looks like, so you can try to remember.
It would make her really really REALLY happy if you wrote to her and maybe came to visit!!! Mama doesn’t have many friends so I think she would like to see you.
I drew a picture just in case you need it, and a map. I don’t know if you know where we are but we’re really really high up on the world is what Chiaki-San says.
Please write back soon! And don’t tell my mama, okay? She might get really mad that would make her cry and I don’t want her to cry anymore ):
Akechi Goro
Seven and three quarters years old
P.S: mama says there’s lots of tasty fruit where you are, you should bring some when you visit! I want to see an Apple!!!
Kurusu Rin, Empress of the Southern Realm, is thirty-one and a quarter years old when she hears from her long, thought to be lost, friend's son.
At first, she thinks the missive is a ploy. The Northern Seal? On a letter addressed to Rin? In the untrained hand of a child? Torashi, Rin's mate, told her to burn it.
“Who knows how it got here or what's inside if it's from the epicenter of the Northern Realm? It's dangerous.”
But there was something about the childish scrawl that gave Rin pause. Perhaps being a mother has made her weak—Torashi is quick to assuage those fears.
“If anything, you're fiercer than I've ever seen you— and I've seen you.”
Yes, her mate has. He's seen her through every phase of her life, from the embarrassing fumbles of a young Omega striving for power and respect when he was her body guard, to the untouchable Empress she is today as her mate.
In her private quarters, she holds the letter in her hands, opened, read, and ruminating. By the windows, her son dances in between the billowing curtains. The sun is just about to set and the wind off the sea is a cool balm to humid heat from the day. Akira winds between the sheer red fabric, like a shadow beneath the waves. All but disappearing in their depths, only to pop out when a large gust blows with simple joy on his face. Carefree, yet sharp smiles, and enough curiosity to kill a thousand cats (not that he would, her child would rather die than hurt a cat), and so much like his father.
Unlike the child etched in the pages of the letter in her hand.
All her worst fears are confirmed in Kanji from an unsteady hand, the author unaware of the gravity of the situation he writes from. Nine years ago she couldn't convince her best friend to stay, too-love struck by the guiles of a heartless man. Perhaps Rin had been too harsh, as was her way. She did not mince or sugarcoat her words, not for anyone, not even her son—though for the latter, she took extra care in the tone she chose to use.
What words should she use for the son of her enemy? No, that's not right. That boy deserves better than to be called the son of Shido.
The son of her former, closest ally?
The letters on the page give Rin the impression this boy had not yet been tainted with the poison his father spews. They told her this child had no idea just who he had written to. Suzume, guarded as ever, probably never told her son about her past life as the Southern Ambassador to the Northern Realm.
Perhaps there was hope for the North after all.
Rin sees the opportunity before her and wonders…
To Seven and a three quarters-year-old Akechi Goro,
I remember your Mama very well. Her smile could melt the coldest peak of the highest mountain in the Northern Realm if only she would climb it. It never failed to cheer me up when we were about your age.
Unfortunately, I'm not in a position that I can leave to visit right now. I'm very far South, and it would take me months to reach you and your Mama, so I've written her a letter as well, enclosed within this one for you to give to her instead. I promise I did not tell her what you said about her sadness, nor anything that would make her mad. Feel free to read it before you give it to her if you're worried. I hope she chooses to write me back. I would very much like to see her again one day and meet her little crow, when things aren't so tense between our Realms.
I look forward to hearing from you soon. You'll have to tell me what you think of the apples I've sent along with this letter. There are three kinds, Empire (my favorite, more sweet than tart, extra crisp), Snapdragon (my mate's favorite, extra sweet with hints of vanilla and spice), my son's favorite, Mutsu (sweet and slightly tart, crisp, and juicy)
Sincerely,
Your Mama's friend Rin
(A lady never tells her age)
A K I R A
"Did you just sign your name on this letter?" Rin asks, hiding her amusement behind a hand.
"Yes!" Akira exclaimed, peering over her desk. Aside from the mop of messy black hair, his silver eyes are all she can see across it. in a spur-of-the-moment decision, one she hopes she won't regret, she grabs an extra sheet and slides it over to Akira.
"Here," Rin says, "Why don't you draw our friends a picture? Like one of the ones you drew yesterday?" On my very important missive that was supposed to be sent to our Master of Coin that I had to painstakingly rewrite, she keeps to herself.
"Really?" His head pops up fully, a shadow of a smile on his face.
"Yes, really."
What harm can it do? It's not like anyone would be able to figure it out. Not with half the Southern Empire now naming their kids Akira, after her son.
"I'm gonna draw him a woof," Akira says. "People in the North like them, right?"
Rin represses the images of bloodied fangs and hellfire lit eyes from her mind as she corrects her son, "You're going to draw him a wolf. And yes, Northerners like their wolves."
"Wolf," Akira slowly sounds out, the right way this time, as he sketches a big furry dog with a lopsided smile and a large lolling tongue.
Rin folds the drawing up carefully, and has Akira write, To Goro, From Akira on it, before sealing it in an envelope alongside the other letters she wrote.
With enough luck, the fruit and their letters would reach the Northern Realm before the autumn ended.
"Do you think he'll write me a letter too?" Akira asks, hopefully.
"Maybe." Rin tucks an errant curl behind her son's ear. "We'll just have to wait and see."
Akechi Goro is almost eight years old when his mama kills herself.
He is one month away from being eight years old, sitting there numbly as his father, with the same level of distress he’s portrayed after having food spilled on his clothes, tells him that his mother is dead.
“You have to understand, Goro-Chan,” his papa says, and all Goro can really see is the way his mouth lies. “She wasn’t well, mentally. She was… confused. There was a note she left, you see. I don’t want to distress you, but—“
“I want to see it,” Goro interrupts, and the irritation his father feels at being interrupted is offset by the triumph in his eyes that Goro is too busy mourning to understand.
“Of course. But I warn you, it’s the ramblings of a disturbed woman.”
Goro doesn’t care. The paper is cool in his hands, and his fingers tremble, rasping against it as he unfolds the note.
Akechi Goro is almost eight years old when his world shatters and he learns his mother never loved him at all.
The apples sit on his mama’s vanity, as if taunting him. Bright red, still beautiful despite the journey, and his mama’s friend Rin’s letter sitting next to it. One opened, addressed to him, and the other still closed. The courier, Goro remembers, had seemed baffled that the Prince was receiving anything at all. No one wrote to a child, after all, let alone sent them packages. But after Goro had stared at him, hollow eyed and as pitiful as half an orphan could be, Goro had been given the box with three perfect apples and two letters inside.
He wants to read what she wrote to his mama. He doesn’t want to know what was written to a woman who never wanted him. His eyes prickle with tears as he sits there in the bed that’s much too large and much too empty, and he cries for far longer than what is appropriate for a boy his age.
In the end, he doesn’t open it. Instead he hauls himself up into the chair in front of his mama’s vanity, pulls out the spare paper he’d stolen from the scribes, and begins to write. That’s what a grown up would do, after all.
Miss Rin,
Sorry it’s taken so long to write back. A lot happened and none of it was nice.
My mama Suzume Mama
She killed herself.
she isn’t here anymore and it’s my fault she never got to see your letter. I wasn’t fast enough and I was too loud. I’m sorry. I wish she was still I didn’t read the letter you wrote her. That’s private and I think
(This section is too smudged with water to be legible.)
The apples are tasty. The wolf is really cool. Is Akira your son? He draws good. Do you love him is he ann my mama always
My favorite was the Mutsu too. I drew a wolf too because they are much scarier than Akira drew them so I am showing him how they actually look.
I am sorry I didn’t write sooner so you could see her again.
Akechi Goro
Seven years and eleven months old
Maternal Instinct was something Rin thought she didn't have until she held Akira in her arms for the first time. It unlocked a deep, atavistic drive within her that flares brightly whenever she interacts with her son, or even thinks of him. Strange, how upon reading this letter from Suzume's son, it flares just as brightly. Caring for someone else's child was another thing Rin didn't think herself capable of, but here she was learning something new over a tear-stained letter.
"Tora," she says quietly. Her mate snaps to her attention from where he'd been gazing out the window, his hand playing in the billowing curtains. She holds out the letter for him to read. "I am going to make a decision that might be the catalyst for a full scale war if the Northern King isn’t already preparing a declaration and risk slowly ruining everything we've ever built from the inside out…”
Torashi takes her seriously, always has, and always will, and it's something Rin loves about him. Those words may seem melodramatic to anyone else, but she knows her mate understands her stance when he glances up from the letter with a panicked determination set in his eyes. "Or?”
“Or change the goddamn world for the better.”
Dear Goro,
My deepest condolences I give to you. Losing someone you love is the hardest battle any of us must ever face in this life, and my heart bleeds for you to have to face it so young. I lost my mother too when I was a child, and I know it was difficult for me. I pray you are not alone in your grief, and you can surround yourself in the comfort you deserve. There are things we cannot control, no matter how hard we try--whether that be when people choose to leave us or how fast the mail gets delivered--please know neither of those things are your fault.
I'm very glad you enjoyed the apples, Akira will be thrilled to learn you share a favorite of his. We will send you more Mutsu apples with this letter.
Yes, Akira is my son, and he's just a little bit younger than you are. He's begged me to write that he's "almost six years old!" exclamation mark and all. He's still learning how to write, otherwise I'd let him do it himself. He's drawn you more wolves while waiting for your reply, and is sketching another now based on the one you've provided. We've hung it on his bedroom wall.
Goro, I must ask you to do me a favor. It is of the utmost importance you do exactly as I say. I've written another letter and included it with the one you're reading now. I need you to give this second letter to the adult you trust the most--someone you would trust with your life and everything you hold dear, make them promise not to tell anyone about these letters we've been exchanging. (You may show them these letters we've exchanged, and the one I wrote to your mother, but only to this person you trust).
I hope you understand how serious this is Goro. Do not be alarmed, you are not in trouble. Once your person has read their letter, they will be able to explain why I'm being so secretive about this and the cost it comes at.
If there is no one you trust, or feel safe enough to trust, burn this second sealed letter immediately and write back to me as quickly as you can. I will find a way to explain everything.
I have a feeling we will meet each other soon. Until then, be safe, little crow.
Sincerely,
Rin and A K I R A
??? and almost six years old
"Mother, are you okay?"
Rin lifts her head from Goro's letter, the fifth time she's read it, and meets her son's sad but curious eyes. "I will be. Come here."
She leans back in the armchair she'd been sitting in, by the window with its billowing curtains, and opens her arms to receive Akira. He hops up and snuggles in a matter of seconds. She holds him tight, running gentle fingers through his hair and swallows back the growing tightness in her throat.
"Akira, you know I love you, right?" she whispers into his soft curls and he goes still. "I don't say it very often, but I do. Very much."
"I know," he whispers back, fidgeting once. "But... I wish you'd say it more."
Rin's chest seizes and her eyes sting, pulling Akira closer to her. "I promise, I will."
She holds him until his breaths grow deep and slow, until his fingers go lax against her arm, as she looks to the North.
Grief was not something Chiaki Yua handled well. From her youth, when her sister was lost to the frigid snows of a brutal winter, to her adolescent years where her mother was lost to a fever, to seeing her neighbors succumb to illnesses and age and injuries that had she studied that smallest bit harder she could have perhaps healed…
Grief has never been her friend; she does not greet it with grace or dignity, no matter how old she gets nor how often she experiences it. And thus, in the face of the passing of the closest friend she’s ever had, Yua turns to the tried and the true:
Overwork.
In her work, in her clinic, nothing can touch her. No emotion can thread its insidious self through the cracks in her armor if she’s working herself to the bone and the marrow underneath. If she’s stitching wounds, producing miracles, focused on the lives she can save here and now in front of her, she won’t have the time or energy to touch that rotten decay. Like wiggling a loose tooth, it is. She despises her own tendency to prod. So she works, and works, and works, and works—
“Chiaki-san?”
—and doesn’t expect Suzume’s son (God, he looks just like her, big eyes and fine features, poor thing) to enter her office. He doesn’t look much better off than she does, and she isn’t surprised. The tiny wretch was a novelty in the eyes of the Fortress, a boy destined to be a toy like his mother. Everyone could see it, and no one believed the lad when he stubbornly proclaimed he’d be an Alpha to make his mother proud.
He doesn’t have any of that bravado right now. His face is pale, and the shadows in his eyes are far too deep and dark on a child his age. Yua doesn’t have the heart to send him away.
“What is it, Goro?” she asks, and hopes the misery in his voice is buried deep enough.
Suzume loved her son, after all. Loved him enough that it probably killed her.
“…I…” he starts, and then falters, biting his lip.
Concerning. “Are you unwell?”
“No, I just…” he goes quiet again, clearly thinking hard. “…I’m supposed to give you this,” he tells her, and approaches to give her an envelope that’s… completely blank.
“For me?” she asks, puzzled. “There’s no name on the front, are you sure?”
He nods once, serious and intent now. “I’m supposed to give it to an adult I trust with my life.”
Something ominous curls low in her gut, and she glances back down at the letter again. “…I see.”
What else is she to say? The boy has no mother anymore, and Yua realizes with the swiftness of the winter winds that she is now his de facto. No one else would dare try to coddle him, not when his father had made his opinion of his son and ex-mate quite clear. There’s a lump in her throat at the thought, the familiar old acidic fury boiling black hot in her stomach, and she carefully opens the letter to read it.
The world falls out from under her, and she swears before she can stop herself, much to Goro’s obvious scandalization.
Rin,
My name is Chiaki Yua, and I am the head healer of the Northern Fortress.
I brought Goro into this world, and assisted Suzume with her pregnancy, and all the evil that came afterwards. Not enough to save her, though. If my understanding of the situation and your relationship to her is correct, I’m sorry for our mutual loss.
There are preparations to be made before we can go anywhere. Yes, we. I am sick of the tyranny of this land, and I cannot, in good conscience, remain here and heal in the name of an Alpha with so few morals and such evil in his soul. We share a goal, I believe, and thus I will tell you this:
War is coming. Soon. I send you this letter on the swiftest wings I can find in the hopes my warning comes in time. It will be declared, and your borders will be attacked at Winter’s thaw.
I do not think we will be able to make it to the border before this happens. Neither of us are able to travel as fast and hard as needed in the teeth of the season, and the Lion still pretends to care for his cub’s distress.
But with the declaration of war, his attention will be shifted, and with that shift we may make our move. The end of Spring, I believe, will mark the winds of change in our lives. I shall leave the planning to you; with your next letter, tell us where to meet, and we shall leave as soon as we receive your missive.
I cannot thank you enough. I knew our mutual friend was well connected, but I never imagined this was ever possible. If we succeed, you have saved her son’s life and soul. He looks exactly like her; I’m quite sure you can imagine what grim fate lay in store for him should the devil dance among the biological dice.
I look forward to meeting you.
Chiaki Yua
Forty two and a half years old (Goro insisted I put my age.)
P.S: thank you for the apples. I was lucky enough to share one with Goro, and they are delicious.
P.P.S: Enclosed is another drawing of a wolf, as insisted upon by Goro, along with another letter he has written to your son. I believe he is listing everything that he has not drawn correctly on a wolf.
The morning Rin receives Chiaki Yua's letter she wastes no time moving into action. There was so much that needed to get done for this plan of hers to work. Only her most trusted members of her network of spies could she use, the gravity of what she is doing could make the War the Northern King was waging a hundred times worse. The risk to her life wouldn't change much, but the people she entrusted to complete this mission of hers and the little Prince himself were on the line.
Her entire morning meetings are cancelled and the time is devoted to mapping out the best escape route out of the Northern Realm. They needed to avoid all the major areas of conflict, but that left her with all the unsavory routes, the dangerous ones. Not to mention it would take them much longer to reach the Pantheon if they came down the North from the West, over the border and pivoted east along the edges of the sprawling forest at the heart of the Realm.
Too many variables, too little time.
"We can't send them through the Western Woods," Rin murmurs. "All the King would need to do is send a pack or two of wolfhounds after them and they'd be caught within the week. Too much open space, not enough places to hide. More populated areas would hide their scents..."
"But increase their risk of being recognized," Torashi finishes for her. "Perhaps a disguise?"
"They'd be disguised regardless," Rin says, placing her hands on either side of her desk. "But I'm leaning toward having them escorted along our spy routes into these cities." She points to them on the map splayed out on her desk. "But the problem then becomes, at which part of the border do we have them cross at? The eastern sea is fraught with warships and pirates, and the Western Mountains are a death trap without training---they don't have time to learn that..."
"Or, you could send them through the heart of the conflict," Tora suggests, fending her appalled glare with a give me a moment gesture. "They'd be traveling right into the most fortified Southern encampments, it's the safest place they could be."
"Cutting through the Northern offensive line is the most dangerous place they could be," Rin argues, shaking her head.
"I still believe getting them to the main base of operations once they cross the border is the best course of action, and, " Tora continues, reaching out and cupping Rin's chin to get her to look up from the map. "It would mean they get delivered to me, personally. I'll escort them from there."
Rin purses her lips but doesn't pull away from her mate's hold. "Going directly through the Northern Front is out of the question. Though, begrudgingly, I have to agree that having them be intercepted by our main forces is the safest place for them to cross."
"What about having them cross through Yoshizawa territory?" When Rin goes quiet, he continues, "They're still our Northern Ambassadors, their territory is a non-combat zone, possibly the only one along the border that isn't an environmental hazard."
A slow smile crawls across her face. "I knew I mated you for a reason."
Torashi matches it, a bit of his commoner drawl slipping in when he says, "Told ya I'd be useful, darlin."
Dear Chiaki-san,
Enclosed you'll find explicit instructions, follow them exactly and you will have a safe and swift journey. Do not be late arriving at any checkpoint I’ve outlined. Your guides have also received explicit instructions on what to do if you do not show, and we both would prefer to avoid this scandal in the making becoming public. Rest assured they will find you, but at great cost.
Each checkpoint will have supplies, clothes, and food for you as well, so pack light. Take your fastest horse and leave when the hour is quietest.
My mate, Amamiya Torashi, will meet you at the border and escort you the rest of the way.
I believe the old Northern travel blessing goes something like, May the frost never nip at your heel.
Sincerely,
Rin and A K I R A
old enough and almost six years old!
The hardest part of escaping the North, it turns out, isn’t the actual escape itself.
It’s the waiting.
It’s waiting after Chiaki tells him what’s happening, why, and when they’re leaving. It’s waiting after he carefully packs up everything that’s ever mattered to him (featherman books; mama’s jewelry; his training dagger; the notes they passed back and forth once during a quiet game they were playing; and her collar, the one she told him she wasn’t allowed to wear anymore because his papa’s friends wanted to see her pretty neck…)
It isn’t much. Those, in conjunction with his collection of feathers and cool rocks and wolf teeth (Akira is going to think they’re so cool), fill up the small backpack Chiaki had given him for personal objects, and he still has room for a few more things. It’s hard to think of anything he wants to bring that’s not too big (he thought about his favorite pillow, the red one that he’s slept with since he was a baby, but it was far too big and felt childish), and as he wanders the room for the umpteenth time, his eyes land on Karasu. And like Goro does every time, he hesitates in front of the little stuffed crow.
The toy is old, ratty, and lives on the bed. Every night it falls off, and every night Goro picks it up, puts it back on its place of honor at the foot of the bed, and apologizes. Every day, Karasu forgives him.
”He’s full of love just for you, my little crow,” his mama teased when she gave him to him, years and years ago. ”He’s here to listen and understand and be there for you for as long as you need him. And then when you don’t, he’ll fly away and find another little boy just like you to comfort.”
Does he still need Karasu? It’s been ages since he’s confided in the little doll, whispered his secrets and confessions into its knit feathers and empty eyes. Karasu is full of Goro’s secrets and his weaknesses and everything he really should leave behind when he goes South. He isn’t a baby anymore, after all. He’s going to be an Alpha, big and strong and powerful enough to defeat his papa and make him pay for making his mama so sad. He’s going to fight his papa. He is going… to kill him. He wants to. He does.
He does.
Karasu stares at him with those empty, non-accusatory eyes. Karasu doesn’t know he wants to kill his father. Karasu doesn’t know he’s leaving. If Goro just leaves, he isn’t setting it free to find someone else. He’d be breaking the cycle his mama always told him was so important.
Karasu ends up tucked in next to Goro’s box of cool rocks, and Goro tells the toy firmly not to let any of them fall out. The doll doesn’t speak, but he’s quite sure Karasu understands anyways.
Karasu always does.
They take a horse, and Chiaki brings along her hound.
For protection, she explains, ruffling Caduceus’s ears. The hound is a timid one, for all that she’s among the largest of the females. Goro adores her. She’s huge and perfect and noble and her tongue is as big as his entire face. He wishes he was still small enough to ride her, but Chiaki said no even if he was.
“She needs to be unencumbered so she can protect us,” Chiaki whispers as they saddle up Robin Hood (The horse is actually named Thunderclap, and he doesn’t belong to anyone, but Goro refuses to call him that since it’s a dumb name and Robin Hood is helping them steal away into the night.) “Thunder—“
“Robin Hood.”
“Robin is large enough to carry us both and our supplies, and we’ll walk often as well.”
“Can you walk that far?” Goro asks, concerned. “You’re really old. I can walk and you can ride?”
Chiaki’s expression twitches, and Goro wonders why. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
“Now come on, help me tighten this. We have to go by moonrise.”
“Okay!”
It’s exciting for the first few hours. Maybe even the first few days. It’s thrilling, in all the ways Goro has read in his featherman books. A great escape, all silent and nervous and scared because of course they’re both scared. His papa is a scary man, after all. Obviously Goro is going to be scarier than him one day, but for now Papa is probably the scariest Alpha he’s ever seen.
Even scarier than Asakura-san, and he’s huge. Even Asakura-san is scared of his papa.
So it’s scary for a while, and Chiaki-san looks so scared and nervous Goro doesn’t dare say anything about how his rear end hurts from the horse, or how he’s bored of looking at the snow, or about how cold his nose is, or about when he can’t walk right when they stop for the night or when he can’t sleep because it’s too dark. Those are all the complaints of a baby, and he is not a baby.
Chiaki-san doesn’t look any less scared until after they leave the first town, and she doesn’t tell him why. He presses and prods and asks until he can smell how annoyed she’s getting but it doesn’t show on her face and she just tells him she’s been talking to the townspeople. Why, he doesn’t know. They all seem kind of boring anyways. They all talk in whispers and look at the fortress like it’s a monster.
Chiaki-san tells him not to talk to anyone so he doesn’t. She tells him to hide in the forest with Caduceus and not come out until she whistles real sharp like a songbird, and so he doesn’t. He plays quiet fetch with her while she’s gone, and when Chiaki-san comes back she has new, browner clothes and tells him to change.
“Is this a disguise?” he asks, and he’s rewarded by a small smile from her.
“It is. We have to go undercover if we want to make a clean getaway and make sure we don’t get stopped. You’re very distinctive after all, little crow.”
He puffs up at the compliment (he’s very sure it’s a compliment; distinctive is a good word) and then it isn’t as bad changing into the brown clothes, even if he misses his cape. It’s a nice cape, and he’s only a little reassured when Chiaki-san tells him he won’t need it in the South.
He wonders if Rin wears a cape. Or if Akira does. They probably do. Every nobility has a cape in the North, they obviously must in the South, too.
Good. He won’t stand out.
“Chiaki-san?”
“Mmm?”
“I can hear a Robin.”
“Can you?”
“Yes. It’s the tweet-y one that dips low and then stops and then starts again.”
“That sounds like every bird.”
“No, it doesn’t. It’s fluting. And warbling.”
“Doesn’t every bird warble?”
“No! Blackbirds whistle and cheep and click, and woodcocks peep, owls hoot, and—“
“I’m getting the picture.”
“Good. Birds are important. They let you know about the seasons, and the weather, and about food, and if predators are nearby, and if they have chicks.”
“And how is that last one important to us?”
“If we get too close, they’ll dive bomb us and then Caduceus will bark and you said that would be bad.”
“Earlier it would have been, but now it’s less dire.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Did you know robins migrate?”
“Do they?”
“Yeah! But it’s not about the weather.”
“Mmm.”
“They follow the food ‘cause they eat worms.”
“I see.”
“Like worms from the dirt.”
“Unsanitary.”
“Yeah! They also eat fruit, though.”
“What kind of fruit?”
“……”
“Well?”
“….apples.”
“I don’t think that’s quite right.”
“Chiaki-San?”
“Yes, Goro.”
“Have you ever seen an ant?”
“…have you not?”
“…I don’t think so.”
“Well, there’s plenty of ants in the South. I hear there’s even venomous ants.”
“WHAT.”
“Shhhhh!”
Yua isn’t asleep, which she supposes she should be grateful for.
It means that when she hears the creak of a footstep on the floorboard beside her bed, she’s awake and ready to gradually slide her hand under her pillow, and wrap shaking fingers around the dagger she’s kept at her side every night for the last few weeks. Her and Goro are at the tail end of their journey, finding aid and respite at every place they stop at courtesy of the Viperess. The hospitality makes her paranoia tingle, and every night they spend under a ceiling instead of the stars she barely sleeps a wink.
It’s too good to be true, and she expects to be double crossed at any moment.
So when the presence stops at her bedside, hardly breathing, she’s ready to strike at any moment. Ready to move, to kill if she must for the sake of the boy curled up on the other bed. She never heard a scream, never heard a scuffle, so they must think her an easier target.
A healer she may be, but…
“…Chiaki-san? Are you awake?”
Goro’s voice, quiet and breaking at the edges, instantly melts the terror gripping her heart. “…I am. What’s wrong, Goro?”
“I…” her little Prince starts, then falters. He sniffles, like he’s trying to hide it, and her heart breaks a little more. “S-sorry. I’m not a baby, I’m not. I just… I wanted to check on you.”
There’s fear there, too much very real terror underlying those words, and she understands. “I’m still here,” she promises, and a sob cracks out of his mouth before he can stop it. “It’s alright, Goro, it’s okay…”
Her hand leaves the dagger, and she shifts to push herself upright, patting the spot next to her. Almost immediately the boy crawls into the bed, and his body quakes from the grip his night terrors still have on him as he presses into her side. Automatically she offers him his wrist, rubbing the gland against his own undeveloped ones, and an iota of tension eases out of him as he fights to hold back his tears.
“I had a bad dream,” he whispers, tucked neatly into her side. “I… I saw mama jump.”
Her next breath cuts off, and her grief spikes. “…I’m sorry,” she whispers back, and he hiccups.
“Me too. I didn’t mean to… I-I know she liked you and you liked her a-and I’m sorry, it was my fault—“
“No.” The sharpness of it shocks him into silence, as it surprises herself. “No, Goro. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t ever blame yourself for this.”
“B-but the note said—“
“Damn the note.”
Goro makes a shocked, scandalized little noise in the back of his throat. “That’s a bad word.”
“Bad situations sometimes require bad words. Goro, that was not your fault. That note was…” she trails off, wondering how much she tells him. How much he needs to know. Obviously she plans on sharing her theories on Suzume’s ‘suicide’ with the Empress, but does Goro need to know at such a tender age, when the wound is still so raw? “…I have… I don’t think your mother wrote it.”
She hears his breathing stop, a stunned silence, and then feels him twist to look up at her face in the dark. “What?”
“…I think…” she hesitates, then soldiers on. The truth will be his greatest weapon and shield here, and he deserves nothing less than it. “…I think your father wrote it. To what ends, I don’t know. But from what I heard of the contents, it doesn’t match her writing style, and the things she wrote… Suzume would never say such terrible things about you. She loved you.”
“…but… but I was annoying, and too much like papa, and—“
“None of that mattered, Goro. Every child is annoying, and you are nothing like that monster that sired you. Nothing, do you hear me?”
Goro is silent.
And then the dam bursts all at once, but this time, the tears are that of the purest, most childlike relief.
Yua holds him close, and allows him to cry it out, rubbing his back and refusing to allow her own bitter grief to permeate her scent. This isn’t about her, right now.
This is about Goro, and what she needs to give him.
Torashi has been stationed at the front lines now for two months. His presence invigorates the troops. Fighting beside your Emperor-consort apparently is very motivating. Tora goes down to the border frequently to fight, bringing reinforcements or the next wave of fresh soldiers to relieve the ones who’d currently been holding the line. He gets first hand updates of how successful their retaliation and defense is going. So far, so good. They’ve managed to keep Northern warriors from crossing, even defending some of the middle zone territories from being ravished.
No one knows why Tora is truly there. No one except Rin, and to some extent Akira. His son wanted to go with him but both he and Rin vehemently refused.
“But he’ll need a friend!” Akira protested before he left, tugging on Tora’s belt. “It’s gonna take forever to get here.”
“He’ll have you once I’ve brought him here.”
Akira had been displeased with Tora’s answer and sulked the rest of the day. Rin kept a sharp eye on him, not letting him out of her sight lest he stow away among the supply carts. Tora wouldn’t put it past his kid, knowing his mother’s old habits when she was young.
The sun sets low on the western horizon, casting the encampment in hues of pink and yellow, steadily growing more purple as Tora makes his rounds. It’s his last night here, if his two refugees can safely make it through the Yoshizawa territory unnoticed. He’d received a missive from the Northern Ambassador the young Prince and his guardian had arrived a few nights ago and were recuperating from the harsh journey. Understandably so. Fleeing the Northern Fortress, being hunted across the realm, trusting a foreign adversary for their chance at freedom… it’s been quite a test of endurance for sure. But they made it this far. Tora can be patient.
Rakshasa’s tail flickers back and forth, the only indication Tora’s dragon is antsy. He presses a hand along Rakshasa’s neck, steadying him.
“Any moment now,” he murmurs, scanning the treeline across the farmland before him. Birds burst out of trees and into the sky along the right side of the clearing. “There.”
A horse and its rider breaks through, barreling full speed out of the forest. Followed closely at its heels is a large wolfhound, flying fast and low to the ground like an arrow. Tora can make out a woman at the reigns, dark hair flying wildly out behind her as she rides like a summer storm across the plains. As they get closer, Tora catches his first glimpse of the young Prince. Golden brown hair peeks over the woman’s shoulder as the Prince rises behind her to get a look at Tora waiting for them.
Rakshasa paces, knowing it’ll be his turn to run soon, too.
“Don’t stop,” Tora yells out to them once within earshot, turning Rakshasa with a press of his knees, ushering the dragon into a run. “Follow me!”
As they cross the field, cries of confusion, outrage, and worst of all, recognition begin to arise from the woods where the Northern Packs lurk and hide. Warriors, some with only the bare minimum of armor, start to pour out from behind the tree line, weapons brandished and horses unsaddled.
Chiaki does not look back at that, but she crouches lower against the horse and shouts something to the Prince, who obediently presses low as well.
Arrows begin to fly, going wide as the brilliant white horse that blended in well in the North but sticks out like a sore thumb here, follows behind his blue-scaled dragon.
Her face is set in a grim, determined line, and she glances briefly over towards their savior before focusing once more. The Prince still hasn’t raised his head, small shoulders hunched as he stays tucked against the small of his guardian’s back.
Yoshizawa Territory has been compromised, Tora thinks as he leads them father across the open land. They’re closing in on the Southern border, a large stone barricade built as far as the eye can see in either direction.
Tora slows Rakshasa to ride alongside his wards.
“Chiaki Yua, I presume?” Tora calls out and gets a sharp nod in return. “There is no gate ahead so the only way over is via a lift. Be prepared to guide your horse onto the platform. Keep ‘er steady. Tends to spook horses a bit.”
“What about you?”
Tora shifts his attention to the Prince and flashes him a mischievous smile. “Don’ worry ‘bout me.”
He clicks and Rakshasa takes off ahead, charging the wall at full speed. He can hear the Prince’s gasp from yards away as his dragon scales it, running up its surface and pulling him over onto the rampart.
Tora shouts an order and from their hiding spots along the top of the wall, hundreds of archers pop up, taking aim at the approaching offensive assault.
Tora hops off Rakshasa and goes to assist with cranking the lift with the precious cargo in it.
Robin Hood comes to a nervous halt on the lift, snorting restlessly and shifting his weight as it rises slowly in the air. Yua pats his side, her heart pounding in her chest just as fast. It doesn’t feel safe; it doesn’t feel real.
The border, the army, the South… for so long it’s only been the journey and the dread, and a part of her still anticipates a rough hand dragging her or her charge off the horse. They aren’t fully safe yet; it’s still possible.
“His dragon climbed a wall!” Goro yells into her back, and she fights back a small smile. At least someone is having fun.
“It did,” she agrees, and glances out at the battlefield—
—and makes eye contact with a soldier across the way, one she recognizes, one who has spent many a night in her infirmary, and who clearly recognizes her in turn. His expression goes slack and wide, staring at the both of them, and then his mouth twists, sneering, into a word she’s expected to have hurled at her for close to a month now.
Traitor.
Yua’s heart stumbles over itself, and she has a choice. Of course, there is only one correct one.
She raises a hand and flips off the soldier, mouthing back ‘Fuck you,’ and the lift grinds to a groaning halt.
“Make room,” Tora orders, steering people away, allowing Chiaki to guide her stallion off the lift. “Secure that lift in place.”
He sends off another order to the commander on the wall to let the Vultures handle the survivors below, to hunt those who retreated back into the forest. None were to live.
“There’s ramps on the other side a little further down,” Tora explains as he leads them through the sea of archers at a brisk pace. Most know to leap out of Rakshasa’s way and the ones not paying attention get bumped aside. “I’m sure y’all’re tired so we’ll take a rest at one of the strongholds a little deeper into our territory. Ya good to ride another hour? Or do ya need a moment?”
With the noise of the battle further away, there’s silence for a moment in response to Torashi’s question. Then, a muffled voice comes from the Prince still plastered to Yua’s back.
“Yes, you’re good now.” she reassures him, and then the Prince raises his head to look around. “We’re fine to ride more,” she tells Torashi, the relief clear on her face. “I’d rather we get to safety sooner than risk any stragglers getting lucky.”
Behind her, the Prince is silent, staring at Torashi and his dragon with undisguised suspicion.
"You got it." Tora winks at the Prince as he hoists himself back onto Rakshasa’s saddle, making his suspicious scowl deepen.
They ride into the twilight, past the tents of the Southern army posted at this part of the border. They take the well-worn path out of the encampment, out into sprawling farmland, green as far as the eye can see with fresh blooms of spring. A few farmers that provide for the army look up as they race past and Tora throws them a wave and a toothy smile that gets shyly returned.
They keep going until the sun dips fully beneath the horizon and the first few stars start to shimmer into existence. Looming ahead is one of the first Keeps. A tall, dark imposing structure built with one purpose in mind. The large brazier blazing away at the top of the tower is a stark reminder their realm is at war. The gates clank and groan as they’re raised, allowing enough space for a dragon and horse to ride in alongside one another.
Rakshasa comes to a slow stop and stretches with Tora still on his back.
Tora laughs, "I get it, you're ready for a meal and a nap. You've earned Shasa."
He dismounts in a fluid, practiced motion and lets his dragon wander off to the stables, needing no direction.
Tora turns to his guests and offers the little Prince a hand to get down. "You must be exhausted, Highness. There'll be a bowl of steamin' stew and a warm bed for ya soon."
“Why do you talk like that?” the Prince instantly accuses, refusing the hand and instead deliberately getting off the horse from the other side. It’s obviously a struggle, and he’s very much too small to do it himself. Judging from Yua’s blatant exasperation, however, it’s obvious he does this regularly.
“Goro, don’t be rude,” she scolds him lightly, taking Torashi’s hand instead so he doesn’t feel useless as she hops down from the horse.
The Prince hits the floor in a puff of dust, but quickly scrambles back upright. “It’s not rude, I’m gathering more data,” he pronounces, enunciating each syllable.
Tora chuckles and says as an aside to Chiaki, "It's fine. Used to it."
To the Prince, Tora replies, "More data?" He motions for a soldier to take their horse for its own care, leaving the three of them in the center of the square courtyard. "You writin' a report or somethin'?"
Now Goro stares harder at Torashi, tiny face scrunched in concentration. “I could,” he tells him loftily.
Yua glances at him as well, curious. “What accent do you have?” she asks.
"Kansai," Tora says, as if it's obvious. "Southeast Common District in the outskirts of the Royal city. Known fer our military an' farming."
It's refreshing to use it. He tries to repress it as much as he can within Court. Rin says she'd cut anyone down if so much as implied anything negative about his upbringing or right to the throne, given he was just your run-of-the-mill commoner who trained to be a standout soldier and won his claim of military fame in the Arena. Enough so it impressed Rin's parents, the former Empress and Emperor, to assign him as Rin's bodyguard. Much to Rin’s unfathomable dismay at the time.
Rin's protectiveness over him is endearing, and one of the many reasons he's hopeless in love with her, and tries his best not to give anyone a reason to test her wrath. It's nice to know she cares so deeply though.
Here, out of the city, on the outskirts of the Realm, Tora feels he can let loose a little.
Recognition flashes across Yua’s face, and she glances at Goro now, who still seems to be thinking quite hard.
“Suzume was from there,” she explains, a touch of grief in her voice. “His mother. The accent only came out when she was… quite angry. That’s likely where you remember it from.” She directs her last words to Goro, who finally looks away.
"I remember Suzume," Tora says quietly to Chiaki. "Kind soul, but yeah, nasty temper. Tongue as sharp as a knife if ya caught 'er on a bad day."
He smiles to himself. He'd been on the other end of that knife many times.
"C'mon, I promised ya stew, and I'm nothin' but a man of my word." He leads them toward one of the four doors built into the four walls, toward the kitchen. "Y'all can tell me 'bout yer trip over it. An a glass of brandy too, if ya like Chiaki-san."
She considers him for a moment, eyes sharp. He knew Suzume well, it seemed… interesting. But more interesting at the moment was—
“Brandy would be wonderful,” she breathes, and follows behind him gratefully. Perhaps it’s shallow of her, but the idea of a warm drink after their journey and taking the time to properly begin to unwind is more valuable than any knowledge she could gain in this moment.
Goro trots behind them, grabbing for her hand. “I want brandy too.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But Chiakiiiiiiiiii—”
“You can have dessert.”
“What if I want brandy for dessert?”
“You won’t like it.”
“Yes I will.”
She sighs deeply.
"Let the kid sniff it, and watch his face crumple," Tora says lightheartedly, holding the door open.
At least, that's what Akira did when Tora let him try it while Rin wasn't looking. Not a full-on sip, Tora ain't that bad of a dad. He let Akira lick it from a spoon. Akira's never asked to try his "Dad" drinks ever since.
"Trust me, one whiff an' it'll send him wretchin' over the table."
As the Prince passes by, Tora gives in to impulse and ruffles his hair like he would with Akira. The scandalized look he gets in return is absolutely worth it.
So here were the facts:
First fact: He and Chiaki-san were now in the South. This meant that they could stop running, according to Chiaki-san. Or at least not ride and walk for every daylight hour. Which was good! Goro would never admit it, but his feet and his butt had been hurting the entire trip. Not that he was a baby or a whiner, especially since this trip was Very Important, but still. He ached, and he was glad they’d be slowing down now.
Second fact: They were being escorted by a man named Torashi who sounded a lot like mama when she was mad at him or at the world, and it makes his chest hurt real bad. His voice rounds around vowels and skips over consonants and never makes the ooo noise his mama always told him was very important to enunciate and it’s so familiar it hurts. He misses his mama more than he can breathe sometimes and he knows Chiaki-san feels the same way. Goro doesn’t want to listen to him talk as much as he desperately wants to, because it’s mama’s accent not in mama’s voice, and it’s wrong. He listens anyways, because he’s already starting to forget the shape of her hands and he’s scared to lose anything else.
Fact the third: Torashi has a dragon. This is very scary, and he doesn’t want to think on it for too long because it is so scary. Those eat people. They especially eat Alphas, and Goro is going to be the best Alpha ever, so obviously Torashi’s dragon wants to eat him. This is the third fact.
Fact the fourth: Goro is very, very scared that Rin will not like him. It’s silly and he knows it is. But he already sent one mother into her grave; what if his presence makes Rin do the same thing, and then Akira doesn’t have a mama either? Akira would hate him, and then he wouldn’t have any friends in the South and also Rin would be dead too just to get away from him. It’s scary, but it’s not as solid of a Fact as the other three and Goro knows he’s being a baby, so that’s why it’s at the bottom of the list.
Goro stares at his tiny notebook, filled with his thoughts and his Facts just like Chiaki-san taught him, and lets out a big long breath before taking another one. There. They were on paper, so that means they aren’t in his head anymore. It’s good. They were heavy thoughts and now his brain feels less tired. His body still hurts, though; it’s early morning after their hard ride to cross the border, and he wishes he could have slept longer. The sun isn’t even awake yet.
But a nightmare had woken him up a little bit ago, and he hadn’t wanted to wake up Chiaki-san again, so he stuffed his fist in his mouth and gnawed on it until the pain there was worse than the fear in his head, and then he started to write. It almost always helps whenever he feels bad, and today is no exception. But now his brain isn’t ready to go back to sleep, and his stomach is waking up, too. It growls, and Goro makes a face.
Maybe the kitchen is awake. The people in there never seemed to sleep up North, which was very annoying when he wanted to take some food up to his Mama whenever she didn’t feel good enough to go down to eat. But they were always nice enough to give him a few sandwiches; maybe the kitchen here was the same way.
It doesn’t take long for him to dress to his specifications (no cape anymore; it’s so hot!!) and soon enough he’s creeping out of his room right next to Chiaki-san’s and probably Torashi-san’s. The kitchen can’t be too hard to find, right?
Tora rises with the dawn but isn't awake until he's had at least one of cup coffee, otherwise, he's a ‘grouchy tiger’ (per Rin) in the mornings. He's about halfway through nursing his first cup, sleep still clinging to his body and mind, tempting him to abandon the cup and climb back into bed. But he can't do that, he's got a big responsibility to fulfill, and he'll need all the energy he can get to keep his charges not only safe, but entertained.
The hardest part of this journey isn’t going to be the actually travel itself. No, it’s going to be earning the Prince’s trust. His stare seared into Tora’s back the whole way here last night, and across his bowl of stew. If looks could kill, Tora wouldn’t be dead but he’d be at least inconvenienced to a little while.
Tora thinks he and Chiaki will get along just fine, if their conversations over shared brandy last night was any inclination to how their relationship is going to develop. That woman could probably drink him under the table and still be able to perform surgery, which is quite a fucking impressive feat. He raises his current drug of choice in the direction of her quarters before taking another sip. Hopefully she’s not hungover too.
As he does, he notices the little Prince slinking around just outside their rooms. Oddly endearing kid, Tora thinks, as he observes the Prince go through the process of trying to break into every door he can within the courtyard. Tora smiles to himself as he watches the Prince's patience dwindle, stamping his foot when he comes across the fourth locked door he can’t muscle through.
With three quarters of a cup of coffee, Tora feels magnanimous enough to help the poor fella out.
"G'mornin' Highness," Tora announces, leaning on the doorframe of the open kitchen door. "Lookin' fer a bite to eat?"
Goro does not scream.
He does not. Akechi Goro is not a screamer, or a yelper, or a shrieker. He just… makes a surprised noise and then whirls around to face the sudden threat, his fists raised.
Oh. It’s Torashi-san.
“You shouldn’t scare people like that!” he scolds, feeling the tops of his ears burning. “That’s not nice!”
"So is snoopin' around places as a guest," Tora quips back, slow smile growing on his face. Poor kid is so on edge, it really wouldn't be nice if Tora teased him too much, at least right now. "Hungry?"
Tora sips his coffee as the Prince debates whether or not he should come closer.
“I’m exploring, not snooping,” Goro corrects him, lifting his nose in the air. “It’s totally different.”
His accent still makes his chest hurt in a weird way. Goro isn’t sure if he likes it or not… but admittedly he is pretty hungry. Trying all those doors woke him up more, and now his stomach is protesting its emptiness.
It growls, and that makes his decision for him.
“…is that the kitchen you’re in now?” he asks, trotting closer. He technically shouldn’t be talking to strangers without Chiaki-san, but Torashi-san is a beta and besides that, he’s not a stranger since he knows his name.
Simple logic.
"Mhm," Tora says around his mug. "Fresh coffee and scones in here if ya like. Cook's also fryin' up some kinda fish'n'rice dish too, be done soon if that's more yer fancy."
Tora beckons him inside with a nod of his head before turning on his heel and going back inside. The fresh smell of cooking meat fills his nose as he walks deeper, over to a vacant table and pulls out a chair for the kid.
"Dunno if a kid like you drinks coffee 'er not, so I'll getcha some water while ya decide what yer hungry for."
“Is coffee what you’re drinking?” Goro asks, sniffing curiously before his eyes widen.
The smell underneath the frying fish and the baking scones is deep, dark and rich and bitter enough that it coats his tongue. His mouth waters, and reflexively he leans forward, sniffing again. “I want that,” he says, eyeing Torashi-San’s cup a little longer. Yes, he’s hungry, but if that’s what coffee just smells like…
He does snatch a scone first, though. Chiaki-san says it’s important to eat before anything else in the morning.
Typically, Tora wouldn't give Akira coffee, he's too young for that, his palette not quite developed enough to truly enjoy it but... maybe this Prince would. Kid seems almost too old for his age.
He pours the him a small cup, enough to let him taste it and decide for himself.
"Cream n'sugar's on the table, put as much in as ya like," Tora explains, sliding him the mug. "It's a bit strong without it, especially if ya never had any before."
He smiles inwardly. If the kid doesn't like it... well the facial journey Tora's about to witness will be all the entertainment he needs for the week.
The smell is stronger now with the cup in front of him; hot and perfect and rich.
It smells amazing, and when he pulls the mug closer to him, it warms his hands. Not that they’re cold at the moment; it’s weirdly warm, and he hasn’t seen snow in over a week.
The first time he saw grass, the green carpet covering the earth, he’d been deeply alarmed by the idea that it was so warm the ground was molding. He’d asked Chiaki-san about it, and he knows he heard her snort before telling him it was grass like he’d read about in books. Grass, apparently, did not look like a blanket of green. It looked like green mold.
He pulls it closer, and gently blows on the surface. The steam is hot enough that when he inhales again to try and get another greedy lungful of it, it warms the inside of his mouth.
“What’s it made of?” he asks, buying time to let it cool off… and sniff it more. He’s unaware his nose is twitching like a dog’s.
Oh, Tora could have so much fun with this. But this kid ain't like his kid back home. The little Prince takes things so seriously, he might actually believe Tora if he said they get delivered on full moons by mysterious creatures that live in the clouds. Akira would just laugh and tell him he's being silly and then try to guess where they actually came from.
"That takes the magic outta it, don't it?" Tora goes for it anyway.
“That’d be a stupid kind of magic if explaining it makes it go away.” Goro frowns, looking back down at the coffee then back up.
It certainly smells good enough to be magic. But…
“Then no one would know how it worked, so no one would be able to explain it once everyone who knows died.” He eyes Torashi suspiciously.
Tora has a hard time from keeping the smile from his face.
“Well, it’s an ancient practice. A gift from the Gods.” Tora shrugs. “Taste it yerself.”
Hmmm.
Goro squints at him again, then looks back down at the coffee. Picking it up in both hands, he raises the rim to his lips—
Bliss.
And his eyes blow wide as he lingers, carefully putting it down. “If I finish this, can I get more?”
Well, Tora’ll be damned. The kid likes coffee.
“Best be careful how much ya drink,” he warns the Prince, pouring him a little more. “You’ll soon understand what I mean by magic.”
Poor Chiaki, she’s gonna have to be the one to ride with this kid all day today. Gods bless her and give her strength.
“You just told me about it, that means the magic isn’t there anymore,” he points out, cradling the coffee close. “So now it’s just tasty and magicless.”
He brings it up and takes another sip. A strange sort of shivery delight curls through him, and he can feel his purrbox working as the liquid sits warmly in his stomach. No wonder adults drink this all the time if it tastes and feels like this. Why do they drink brandy instead?
Adults are dumb.
The Prince is honest to the Gods purring over a cup of coffee. It might just be the cutest thing Tora’s ever seen, maybe second cutest because, well, Akira exists.
“I didn’t tell you what it was though,” Tora says. “For all you know it could be made from mud.”
Goro pauses mid-sip, swallowing before he can stop himself and then pulling the mug away to squint at the liquid.
…it’s dark like mud, but it doesn’t have the same texture, or the exact same color. If it was mud, he would probably know. He’s… pretty sure mud doesn’t smell like this. He’s smelled it before, many times, but never tasted it. “It doesn’t smell like mud, and taste and smell are linked.” Goro scowls at him. “It’s obviously not mud.”
Tora decides he can take this a little further. He crosses the kitchen and finds the used coffee grounds, still warm and dark and very much looking like mud in the filter and carries it over. It plops with a wet slap next to the kid.
“Yer sure ‘about that?”
WHAT.
Goro instantly recoils from it in horror, his hands flying off the mug as he stares at the pile of slop in front of him with absolute horror.
It smells exactly the same as the coffee.
“Ewwwww!!!” his voice rises, and both coffee and scone are abruptly abandoned as he absconds. All that remains is an absence of one small Prince as Goro veers straight for the bathroom he knows where it is.
Tora catches him in three steps and hauls him back, kicking not quite screaming but fussing.
“I’m kiddin’ I’m kiddin’ it’s not mud,” he laughs, dragging him over to the kitchen counter, where he pulls an open bag of coffee over. “See? This is what coffee comes from. Ya grind ‘em up and pour hot water over and ya get a delicious cup of magic.”
Goro is picked up, and for a moment he’s too baffled to move. And then he starts kicking, squirming and scowling and deeply offended.
“You said it was mud, though!!” his voice rises in protest and cracks, staring at the bag of— beans??— in outrage and confusion. “It looks like mud!! Why would you say it’s mud if it’s not mud?!”
“Was only teasin’ ya,” Tora says kindly, shimming the bag. “Once them grounds get wet, it kinda looks like mud. I’d still drink it if it was, tastes too damn good so who cares?”
He lets the Prince poke the beans a bit before pouring himself his second mug.
“Wanna see how it’s done? I’m sure Chiaki-san would love a cup if she knew ya brewed it.”
Teasing?? More like lying! Taste didn’t matter much if the origin was gross, in Goro’s opinion. “It still might be dried mud,” he says suspiciously, reaching out and gingerly taking a bean in his fingers. Hard, crispy… and still smelling like that heaven. It looks like a bean, but…
“Are you sure Chiaki-san drinks this too?”
Why hasn’t he ever seen her drink it if she does? Torashi-san is getting more and more suspicious by the minute.
“The woman loves brandy, so I’m willin’ to bet on it.”
The Prince continues his calculating glare. Tora smiles back. This kid is unintentionally funny.
“C’mon, let me show ya.”
Tora carefully instructs the Prince on how to measure out the exact amount of beans to make two cups. He even lets the kid attempt to grind the beans using the grinder—he struggles at first and refuses to give Tora the grinder back until he’s satisfied with the grind. The grounds get dumped into a filter placed inside a pitcher, and Tora guides the Prince’s hand as he pours the boiling water over it.
“Not too fast,” Tora warns. “Fill too fast an’ the water’ll run over an’ make a mess.” He halts the pour to let the water get strained through and collect in the pitcher. “We keep going until the pitcher’s full—enough for Chiaki to have two cups she likes. Or maybe a second cup fer ya if she don’t.”
It’s strange, receiving instruction like this. Goro’s used to watching and obtaining information on tasks like that; it’s rare that anyone takes the time to actually explain what they’re doing and why, and especially making sure he’s doing it correctly when he copies the motions.
It’s… nice, though he could do without being treated like a much smaller child. He can tolerate it since he’s actually getting an explanation, and because Torashi-san doesn’t seem like he’ll smack him if Goro talks back.
“Can you eat the grounds, too?” he asks, leaning in to sniff curiously. “Or are they useful for anything else?”
He’s itching to finish the cup he started earlier; the smell is tempting him, and he’s starting to feel… excited. Eager to move, and far more awake than he was before. It’s weird, but nice. Maybe that’s why it’s only a morning drink?
“I mean, yeah, y’can but can’t imagine it tastin’ that good,” Tora says, scratching his head. “People eat the beans straight sometimes. I’ve seen chocolate covered ones in candy shops.”
“Is chocolate good?” Goro asks, and immediately knows that was not the correct thing to ask, given the expression on Torashi-san’s face. It’s one he knows very well; pity, with that mix of sympathy and tight sadness that people tend to get whenever he mentions his mama.
He hates it.
“I’ve had it before!” he instantly defends himself, lying on principle. “It’s just been a while, because we haven’t— we didn’t go to the market recently before we left. I haven’t had it since I was three.”
Tora doesn’t buy it. The defensive look on the Prince’s face however stops him from pressing it.
“We’ll have to fix that so you can remember whether ya like it or not,” he says, ruffling Akechi’s hair. Oh how the kid glares. “The Pantheon definitely has some chocolate in its kitchens.”
The coffee is set, so Tora begins cleaning up.
Goro squirms away from the ruffles, his entire body prickling with the touch. His hair is mussed, and he hates that.
He huffs, making his displeasure audible as he reaches up and tries to fix it, smoothing through the strands and parting it the correct way again. Yes, his hair is a mop, but it’s his mop, and he just got it right!!
By the time he finishes fixing it, Torashi-san has started to clean up, and he blinks.
“I can help!” he offers, edging closer and looking around uncertainly. “If you tell me what to do, I can help clean. I’m good at cleaning.”
What if Torashi-san thinks he’s useless by not helping? He might tell Rin that, and then Rin would think he’s useless and that would be awful. He has to prevent that.
Tora senses Akechi’s stress levels skyrocket.
“I’ll keep that in mind fer next time,” he says easily, tossing the filter into the garbage bin next to the table. “This mess is a quick clean up. See? Already done.”
Somehow, that only makes the Prince look even more stressed.
So Tora pivots.
“Actually, ya know what would be a big help?” The Prince shakes his head. “Can you take the trash bin out by the door? This one is lookin’ a lil’ full. A soldier will come collect it later an’ take it to burn.”
A task.
Goro brightens, and instantly slips out of his chair. That’s perfect; it’s simple and easy and it makes him look good to Torashi-san, and maybe he’ll tell Rin about it and then she’ll think he’s helpful and sweet and worth keeping.
The trash bin is heavy, but Goro is stubborn, and as always his efforts overcome the difficulty. Grunting, he drags it over to the door, pushing and shoving it until it sits outside the room. Satisfied with the position, he trots back inside, rather pleased with himself as he scrambles back into his seat and picks up his coffee once more.
For all the Prince postures about being independent and acting like a grown up, he sure is eager to please. Not a good habit to fall too deep into. It breaks a little piece of Tora’s heart thinking about why the Prince tries so desperately to be liked. Getting him out of the North is going to be the best thing that ever happened to him, even if the Prince might not understand why it was necessary right away.
“Real breakfast should be done soon and if I’m not mistaken,” Tora looks beyond the Prince out the window, “Looks like Chiaki-san is on her way over now to join ya.”
And potentially cut Tora’s throat for giving her kid coffee.
He seems sure there’s nothing else, but there’s still that… itch that says there has to be more. Surely there isn’t just one task, right? Maybe Chiaki-San will have more. She always seems to have something she needs done.
“…okay,” he agrees, craning his neck to confirm Chiaki-san’s impending presence before he settles back in his seat. It feels strange, sitting here with someone besides her after so long. And even before that, no one really sat with him aside from his mama, and even then…
He doesn’t want to think about it. Instead he pulls his small mug closer, taking a quiet sip of coffee and allowing himself a pleased little shiver as the warmth settles in his stomach. It’s nice.
Only a few moments later, the door opens, and Chiaki steps inside. She pauses to sniff the air hopefully, and then blinks as she spots Goro. “You’re up rather early.”
“Good morning, Chiaki-San,” Goro greets her. “I got hungry.”
She nods, and without really taking note of what’s in his mug, she approaches the coffeemaker as well. “Good morning to you as well, Torashi.”
Torashi tips his head and stands aside, letting Chiaki pour herself a healthy cup.
“G’mornin’, this coffee here is special,” he says, shooting a conspiratorial look at the Prince. “Kid here brewed it himself jus fer you.”
A hot flush shoots up his back as Chiaki-San turns to look at him, and he can’t really tell if it’s embarrassment or pride he’s feeling. Probably embarrassment.
“Really now?” she hums, and brings it to her lips to take a sip. For an agonizing moment she doesn’t say anything at all, her eyes closed, and then the cup is lowered. “It’s quite good,” she announces, and the embarrassment shifts into pride.
He knows he puffs up a bit without meaning to, given how her and Torashi both try to hide smiles, but he doesn’t really want to stop being proud right now. Chiaki-san likes it.
“Where did you pick that skill up, Goro?” she asks.
“I like coffee,” he replies, and watches as Chiaki’s eyes suddenly narrow as she looks at Torashi. “And I wanted to know what it was, and Torashi-san told me it was dirt.”
“Is that coffee you’re drinking now?” When Goro nods, her eyes narrow further. “I see.”
“Barely half a cup, don’t worry,” Torashi says under his breath to Chiaki. “He wanted to try it. Didn’t expect him to like it though.”
He drains his cup and lets out a contented sigh.
“As soon as you two finish eatin’ we’ll restock on supplies fer next leg of the trip. We’ll ride hard, as we’re still close to the border and I’d prefer to get ya as far away as I can as fast as I can.”
Torashi stretches as he walks past the kid, who pulls his mug closer. Defensive. Ha.
…that might be a future issue.
“Meet me in the courtyard once you’ve packed your personals, my scouts will have your horse ready and we’ll saddle up together.”
“How much further is the Pantheon?” Chiaki-san asks, and Goro forces himself to pay attention rather than make faces at the idea of riding hard again.
His butt hurts so much, all the time.
He takes another sip of the coffee to hide his face like he’s seen Chiaki-san do before, tipping his mug back to get to the last dregs of it. It’s gone far, far too quickly.
Torashi grimaces in the doorway. "With a kid in tow? Shit, 'bout two months I reckon. It's a long way down around the Shujin Mountains, but, once we get to about Sakura Estate at the edge of the range the trip gets to be smooth sailin', we can take our time then."
Tora quickly realizes these waypoints mean absolutely nothing to his wards. Certainly the young Prince who is squinting funny at Tora again.
"I got a map t'show ya," he says, pushing off the frame to take his leave. "Eat up. Freshen up. Pack up."
With a kid, Torashi-san says, and Goro feels himself shrivel up inside. Like he’s a burden. A problem. If they didn’t have to haul him along, how long would it take then?
Probably much less time, if he’s being honest with himself. They could be safe, and in the South, and away from his father and him if they just—
There’s a hand on his shoulder, warm and familiar, and he feels himself slump a bit. Of course Chiaki-san noticed he was thinking too hard. ‘Spiraling’, she called it, and had told Goro once that he’d gotten that from his mama. He didn’t fully understand it, but Chiaki-san knew everything, so he’d believed her when she told him about it… and how she would squeeze his shoulder just like this if she noticed he was doing it.
Goro takes a breath, holds it, and lets it out again in a big puff.
“We’ll be there,” Chiaki-san promises, and that’s the end of that.