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Chapter Text

This is a telling about how several foolish beings riddled with folly, lack of heart, arrogance, self-hatred, and despair came to love one human.

The touch of his heart to theirs brought about a mass shift in the way they viewed the world in their longevity. As the universe grew older, their minds had grown weary. Their hearts had long been forgotten to exist under resentment and distraction of the ever changing world that would not yield to their brimming desires.

Today’s protagonist would be the Tyrant Dragon King of the northwest corner of the continent, the chaos country of Johzenji.

Officially, previous rulers would take on the title of Johzenji, discarding their past selves to devote their body and soul to their country. This one such king, however, did not follow such a tradition. This king, a dragon wearing the skin of a human, would be known as Terushima the Troublesome.

He came about the throne fifteen years prior. He aged not a single day since the passing of the previous king. Outsiders would speculate the current king had assassinated or poisoned the late king, yet the citizens of Johzenji knew this was not the case.

The indirect cause of his death was the drought and the forest fires that assaulted the capital city’s surrounding forest twenty years prior. The capital was situated at the head of the country’s main river that served as a natural border against Shiratorizawa. That year, the drought had forced the river’s water level to recede. Without the access to water, there was no way for the citizens to put out the forest fires that had started from the dry air of the far north and the moist winds of the ocean to the west.

The 78th king’s line had always been known for their health problems, especially within the lungs. Living in Johzenji’s environment for centuries had a definite impact on later generations. The life expectancy for one king would not be long.

Volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, and forest fires. These conditions made it hard for isolated towns to live and grow agriculture on their own. The beaches of the west shore threatened the lives of lesser beings with carnivorous creatures from the depths of the sea, rivaling only the land-dominant dragon in their mystery. The lands to the north were too cold to grow crops, and the dragons were rumored to make their nests deep within the cracked earth and mountains to the northeast. All but the capital was deemed uninhabitable for humans.

The casualties to these natural disasters were inevitable, but a very many that could have died were saved by the arrival of a majestic gold-scaled dragon.

The recount of the survivors said it had parted the flames like they were licks of grass. In all of them, there lay a sense of awe. Fear was furthest from their minds, especially when they discovered one of those it had rescued was the late king.

His monthly inspections of the state of the land had put him at an untimely risk among the hellish environment the country was infamously known for, second to Terushima’s reputation later on in the years.

The first year after the dreaded forest fires that nearly claimed the king's life, Johzenji had announced a Gold Scale Festival in honor of that mysterious dragon saving the lives of thousands.

It lacked creativity in name, but the country found it fitting. Their land was full of dangers, but they were bountiful in metals and jewels from the fertile soils of volcanoes, both dormant and active. Each citizen owned at least one piece of gold and jewel encrusted decoration, and wore it with pride on that seven-day festival.

Soon after, Terushima would arrive at the capital, all flashy charisma and boisterous fanfare as he befriended the king. He claimed he was a travelling, unrivaled gold knight looking for a valiant king to serve. Behind him was the support of his comrades, a bunch dressed in less eye-catching attire but imposing enough to be able to follow a man with supposed superhuman strength. Flattery was accepted, yet Johzenji would take no oaths unless the knight in gold proved himself worthy.

Their spar proved well enough that Terushima had the strength to challenge a king’s army. There was no question why he had scoured the lands looking for the right king to pledge to. Any country would be glad to have him. However, the reason why Johzenji promised to take him in was this.

“Your heart is young and playful. I want to help guide you to greatness.”

After four years of devote loyalty, Johzenji Okudake Seiji’s last words for the shining knight of gold were:

“Without a land to live in, a wholesome ruler cannot reign.”

The 78th ruler of Johzenji passed on to the heavens, and the 79th king was crowned Terushima Yuuji. The traditional policy of past kings would change from simplicity and fortitude, to fun and frivolity. This was the way Terushima the Troublesome ruled.

That was not the end to the human Terushima. The magical creatures across the continent knew him by another name: Terushima the Tyrant Dragon King.

As a supposed dragon living the life as a human king, he allowed the dragons of his land to kidnap royalty from other countries and hide away in his borders. The lack of royal and noble children caused strife with other countries.

It was a completely different matter if they wanted war.

To do so would be to willingly cross Shiratorizawa’s borders, or brave the far north tundra to reach Johzenji. Only the courageous and reckless would dare to do either.

Eventually, it would come to royalty negotiating terms with Terushima by letters and ambassadors. In a matter of days and weeks of correspondence and treaties, the kidnapped royalty would return. Bitter nobles with decreased treasuries would mutter, underhanded, while the clever vengeful ones whispered, calculated. The latter would be how Terushima would increase his court, adding in the party-going nobles and envious magical creatures here and there.

Many rumors floated about the continent about Terushima the new Johzenji king. The ones that were obscure only reached those with keen ears. Such rumors, or half-truths, would be that Terushima the Troublesome had loved once. A human, at that.

This is correct. Once upon a time, twenty years ago to be exact, Terushima Yuuji, a young dragon looking for purpose in his unfulfilled life, saved a human on a burning plain. That time, their personal statuses did not matter. There was only the two of them, a weakened human and a powerful dragon on opposite spectrums of life and death.

“Are you special, human?” the dragon had asked.

“Maybe,” the human replied, voice hoarse with dryness. “Maybe not. If you promise me one thing, should I tell you, I wonder?”

The dragon had not hesitated.

“Yes, I promise.”

The weakening human had laughed.

“I’m as special as a star in the sky. I burn with the dying light of life.”

The dragon had looked satisfied with this, probably not understanding (nor caring) that the human meant he was simply an insignificant part of a trillion distant galaxies in the universe.

“What do you wish to ask of me, human?”

The crackle of flames had overtaken the rasp of the kingly human’s request, but the dragon heard. Soon, the trapped citizens of Johzenji continued to live with gratitude to the one who saved them.

The dragon had not returned to the land. The gold knight reigned as the gold king, vast in riches and grand in parties to the point of recklessness. The advisers from the previous king’s time looked over Terushima’s activities with concern.

“Okudake wouldn’t have wanted this,” Misaki Hana, the closest supervisor and childhood friend to the previous king, told him one day after the end of another festival. “He would frown at how you make our treasurer and secretary work to the bone.”

They were in the back courtyard, devoid of any guards and court members. It was known Terushima preferred his privacy, and opened his doors solely for the parties he liked to throw once every few months. It was the least they could do for their generous king to clear out and laze around in their rooms for the day.

When he was alone like he was with Misaki, then he was free to do what he wanted. He transformed out of his human shape and allowed his true form to unfurl. His body took up nearly the whole length of the courtyard, from head to tail.

“So what? He’s not here now.”

Terushima stretched out a wing and exhaled with relief. A particular spot of grass was singed soon after, which would puzzle the groundskeeper for weeks on end.

“Johzenji,” Misaki said low in warning.

“Don’t call me that.” Terushima turned his gold flecked eyes on her and maneuvered so he towered over her smaller form. His pupils dilated dangerously, and his wings threatened to destroy the nearby rooftops.

Unlike most humans he knew, which were few, Misaki was unflinching to his threats. She stood her ground, allowing her skirts to flutter in the small gusts.

“You may be a dragon,” she enunciated slowly, arms crossed sternly, “but you are now responsible for a human kingdom. At least honor some of the traditions like Okudake did. Make your rounds at the outskirts of the city.” She paused when he idled with a chipped scale on his flank. “Do it for him,” she whispered.

He glanced at her fleetingly and moved into a position she recognized from past, unfortunate incidents involving her skirts flipping and showing things she would much rather keep to the view of her tailor. She anchored herself to a pillar at the opposite end of the courtyard and waited.

“Be back before the next festival,” she announced over the flap of wings.

He didn’t refute her with an answer, not like she would have heard it anyway. Her single acknowledgment was the fact he had left the royal insignia behind when they left his study slash play room. Second to his preference to freedom, he valued Okudake’s possessions first and foremost.

She remembered Terushima stumbling out into the same courtyard in the middle of the night—that sad, awful night—and collapsing to his knees, eyes to the heavens with the wing crest clutched in his hands.

“There’s another star in the sky now, Misaki.”

She sighed as the gold blur in the sky faded to an inscrutable dot.

“When will he realize Okudake’s things are now his things?”

What the rumors don’t say, is that Terushima has fallen in love twice.

The second king he met was, like Okudake before him, a regular human.

The plain he first met the previous king had been glossed over with new soil and vegetation. A small forest had grown, flourishing and sheltering all forms of life. He explored this small forest and entered the deeper parts where it branched into the older, untouched forest Terushima had known from the time he was a young hatchling. Like him, the trees that towered like mountains were indomitable and long-lived. Species from ages before his time lived in the shadows of the forest floor and treetops, wary of the fire-breathing predator scouring their habitat like the king of the jungle.

(Deep down, Terushima had a notion there was something hidden in that forest, something these unseen creatures tried desperately to hide. Terushima had yet to find it in all his centuries alive. Every year, he would go looking, and every time, he found himself at the place where he started.)

He didn’t expect anyone but himself to be wandering there, figuring humans would listen to their instincts and go around. The outer reaches of the capital took days from the center to the edges of the city. Flying took a couple hours, but on foot it would take a week. It was assumed someone would have to be mad or soul searching to go out there.

This human really did not belong there, and so deep in the parts where nature let life grow wild and free.

(Something about human kings venturing to places they so obviously shouldn’t made Terushima pang with a rare bout of concern. It must be a trait common between kings who had no regard for their own mortality. Would Terushima become like them, too?)

The human didn’t look to be dying, but he was certainly lost as he glanced around where Terushima had settled behind the trunk of a tree thick enough to provide fuel to his citizens for the winter.

“Who goes there?” the human called out.

Terushima had transformed back into his human form, clothed in worn commoner’s attire to blend in with his surroundings. The accent the human spoke in was not of Johzenji’s dialect.

An outsider.

Terushima felt himself grin. This would be fun.

“Nobody,” Terushima answered, forcing his voice to come from various directions. The human looked around in puzzlement.

“Well, hello, Nobody,” the human said courteously, perhaps to go along with Terushima’s scheme. The gait in which he spoke made him think the human was half serious, like maybe some parent poorly found “Nobody” fitting for a newly made blob of flesh and screams. “May you direct me to Johzenji’s capital? I hear the palace is very beautiful. I wish to take a souvenir back to my home at Karasuno.”

The name didn’t ring a bell, even with Terushima’s experience travelling the continent. It must be a brand new country, having been established within the last century.

“Is that all?” Terushima asked, enjoying the way his projected voice confused the human further.

“Yes.” The human said it with determination like he was about to die. Interesting. Boring. Definitely boorish.

“Alright~!” Terushima found no troubles with guiding the directionally-challenged human to the capital. The appeal to the palace’s beauty worked to convince him. He encouraged the exaggeration and spread of the palace being covered from top to bottom in jewels. It did good for the tourism. Misaki and the treasurer would be happy.

When Terushima skipped out of the shadows and showed himself, the human looked at him with no amount of surprise. It was to be expected; none outside the kingdom knew of Terushima’s appearance. He only let out a sigh.

“What’s that for?” Terushima raised an eyebrow, prepared to be offended and finally do away with a human.

“No.” The human collected himself and adjusted the pack on his shoulders. He looked straight into Terushima’s eyes, unafraid. “I’m relieved. I was honestly scared I might have been hallucinating and conjuring up a ghost named Nobody.”

“Well, I’m neither of those.” This human’s straightforwardness was intriguing. He could entertain Terushima for the time being. “I’m Terushima. I’ve been around this forest for ages, so I know the way.”

“Are you sure?” The human looked positively worried that he may be imposing. How cute. He also didn't question Terushima's intent or motives.

“Yah. I have plenty of time to kill.” It was true. Up until it was time for him to leave. He liked messing around, but promises were different, never mind the fact Terushima had forgotten when the next festival would take place.

“Let’s go shall we?” Terushima hummed over his shoulder.

The human nodded.

After walking for a short time, the human stopped in his path and pat his fist into his palm.

"How rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself," he said with a sheepish chuckle. He stretched out a hand, grinning with a natural honesty Terushima had yet to find so blatantly in a human.

"I'm Sawamura Daichi. Please take care of me from this point forward."

Chapter Text

The dragon king and the kingly human walked alongside each other until they reached a village.

“I need to get some things,” the human explained.

“Go ahead,” the dragon king said as he sat on top of a nearby log.

“Are you going to come with?” the human—Daichi—asked.

“No.” The villagers would recognize their king right away. It was best to stay low.

“Alright. I’ll be back.”

The kingly human strode toward the entrance of the village as the dragon king stayed behind under the cover of the new forest. He watched Daichi go until he disappeared into the safety of the human settlement.

Terushima yawned and stood up. He turned back where they came from toward the rise of the ancient forest.

He knew this was best. The humans in the village would guide the foreigner to where he needed. It was not his job to do more than give him a boost in the right direction. It would be a pain. Terushima didn’t even know the human’s true intentions of going to the capital.

Ah, this sucked. It was a good thing he was leaving. His worries would fall away as the problem with the foreigner became someone else’s problem.

Terushima did not like to do work, and he liked handling somebody else’s work even less.

Now play time, that’s a thing he could do without boredom.

He glanced at his surroundings, and once he made sure the coast was clear, he shifted and took off toward the sky.

Terushima didn’t feel the eyes of someone observing him from the village. He was too relieved to take note.

The dragon king had more important things on his mind.

xXx

This year he would for sure find his birthplace. Terushima didn’t want to, but the divinations from the snarky dragon of the Demon Realm always proved true.

Twenty-one years ago, the imoogi dragon gave him a passing divination that Terushima would find his life’s purpose at the place of his birth after he intertwined his soul with the soul of a king.

Nineteen years ago, Terushima was content to live out his life with his king until Johzenji naturally passed away.

Fifteen years ago, Terushima’s world shattered.

Terushima had flown for seven days and seven nights to the Demon Realm, causing havoc in his wake as he stormed the castle and demanded to see the damned imoogi.

“Why?” Terushima had cried, tugging on the human-shaped imoogi’s collar desperately. He had barely had time to keep his transformation in control; his claws dug holes into the dark material as he kneeled over the smugly grinning bastard.

“Nice to see you, too.” The stupid imoogi dared to grin. He addressed the similarly dressed demon on the throne behind him, “My king, don’t mind this interruption. It’s simply a conflict between kin.”

The Demon King had looked on in glittering amusement with a hand propped under his chin. He wasn’t as impressive as Terushima had assumed, maybe even a bit plain in his looks. His eyes, though, glowed an eerie bright green, marking him as a member of the demon race.

“Settle it soon, Kuroo. I’m expecting guests and need the carpet free of blood. Geez, how your kin frolick around without worry. You’re paying for the damages.”

“Yes, my king. I’ll contact the treasurer as soon as I can.”

Kuroo had partially transformed his arm, midnight scales glinting as he threw Terushima off him and dragged him to an empty garden.

“Why do you let that halfling order you around?” Terushima had snarled, curling in on his rage to address his longtime mentor. “Your might is enough to rule over the whole Demon Realm!”

Kuroo had dusted off his clothes, magickally fixing his robes to how they were pre-tear.

“A Demon King’s purpose is to take in the world’s chaos and convert that into power.” Kuroo had shrugged dismissively. “It’s my job to monitor them without them knowing.”

“I don’t get it,” Terushima had said with a confused head tilt.

“Of course you don’t sweetie,” Kuroo hummed. “In layman’s terms, a Demon King has the highest capability to contain chaos in the whole land. Diverting the wars and the chaos that follows will equal peace with a Demon King to take care of it.”

“Huh.” Terushima had shaken his head. “No, I’m not here for your lecture. I want to know why my king died without giving me his soul.”

“Ah. Johzenji has passed? He was a wise human for his age,” Kuroo said solemnly. “If the asshole on the throne would have listened to my advice, we would have had an alliance with your country.”

“Who cares? Your divination was wrong.” Terushima thrust an accusing finger into his chest. “You were wrong.”

“No it isn’t.” Kuroo carefully moved aside his finger with disdain. “You’re making assumptions. I only tell you like it is. Your interpretation is the one that’s wrong.”

“How can that be? He was a king. Okudake was perfect.”

Kuroo had looked on as Terushima bit back the tide of pain and sorrow.

“I can do nothing for you,” Kuroo had said, “but there is something you can do.”

Kuroo had ordered him to return to Johzenji and take responsibility for the wish the king had placed on him with his last breath.

(How he knew of Terushima’s newfound kingship was one of the many mysteries surrounding the imoogi, which he would never question.)

His old mentor had tasked him with a certain shift of perspective. Instead of looking for kings, how about he look for his birthplace? There were many kings across the continent, and finding the right one was improper if Terushima was a king himself. He would have to make do with his search for a place he barely remembered.

“I don’t even know where I was born!” Terushima had protested.

“It’s in Johzenji, you got that down,” Kuroo agreed. He brought a finger to his lips for secrecy. “I’ll give you a hint. It’s somewhere in that odd forest you’ve been frequenting like a lost chick.”

“That could take decades. No way.”

Kuroo shrugged helplessly.

“Your loss.”

He had sent him back with a promise to contact him again, presumably when Terushima learned how to function as a proper ruler over a human kingdom.

“This will be fun, Teruteru,” Kuroo said with delight as he sing-songed Terushima’s nickname.

If Terushima knew his mentor at all, it was that only he would find any pleasure in the ensuing events that would follow.

Terushima was not finding any fun in this at all.

“How did you find me?” Terushima grumbled to the human as he bristled with an arm half transformed.

The kingly human tilted his head to and fro, trying to recall the answer as he flipped the sheathed knife in the air in one hand.

“I followed you?” he said as he caught the knife and slipped it back into his pack. Terushima watched his gloved hands warily; sorcerers always hid their hands to hide their runes and tattoos. He couldn't be sure what Daichi was.

“What did you see?” Terushima asked, the air growing tense with his transformation magic in case he had to run.

Daichi shrugged and grinned, which surprised Terushima—it looked completely devoid of malice and ill intent.

“I saw enough to know you aren’t simply a regular villager.” Daichi pushed off from the tree he had been leaning on. “So, where are we headed?”

“We?” Terushima repeated. He felt dumbfounded at Daichi’s switch in topic. “You aren’t going to think anything of what I am?”

Daichi looked him over and answered, “I don’t see what’s the problem. You said you were going to guide me to the capital.”

Terushima lips turned down into a pout. He did say that.

“But I left you,” Terushima said.

“You don’t look like a person who breaks promises for no reason,” Daichi said. “I can wait until you’ve done what you have to do. I have the time, at least for a bit.”

“And how long will that last?” Terushima demanded.

“You and I will both know when it’s time,” Daichi said with a mysterious smile.

Terushima looked at him and sighed. Stubbornness was a common trait in humans. They wouldn’t listen and did what they wanted. Terushima could expect no different from Daichi.

“Daichi-san, was it?” Terushima turned and walked in the direction he was going earlier. “If you can keep up with me, I’ll really take you to the capital. Heck, I’ll even introduce you to the king!”

“You can do that?” Daichi wove and ducked around wrangly roots thicker than a horse as he followed Terushima. At a glance, Terushima could see he had no troubles matching his pace. Terushima’s view of the human went up a notch.

“Of course.” Terushima kicked off from the ground and landed on a boulder. He saw Daichi shake his head in disbelief and, if he was reading his lips right, mutter about “kids these days”.

“I could help you if you tell me what exactly we’re looking for,” Daichi said in a reasonable tone. As Terushima looked over the expanse of the mossy forest floor, Daichi slowly made his way up toward him with clever kicks and movements an ordinary traveller shouldn’t know how to do.

“You do martial arts?” Terushima was impressed. Okudake had brief knowledge, but only to the extent of self defense. The way Daichi moved showed he trained for years.

Daichi laughed. “Don’t answer me with another question.” He pulled himself up to stand beside Terushima, assessing their surroundings.

There was no harm in telling him. “I’m looking for my birth place. A wise old man told me I could fulfill my desire by finding it.”

Far off in a distant land, a demon king advisor sneezed over the transfiguration scroll he was inscribing for his student.

“Ah, those things,” Daichi said. His mouth formed an ‘O’ as the light filtered in several hues of amber and green through the far off canopy above them.

“I’m guessing you don’t like them,” Terushima surmised. He tried not to memorize the way Daichi’s eyes reflected the color of the forest.

“Prophecies are things I love to hate.” Daichi turned his gaze away, shifting his attention back on Terushima. If he noticed how Terushima jumped, he didn’t comment.

“How so?” He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the flutter of his heart underneath his clothes. To distract himself, Terushima leapt off the boulder and landed on the fallen leaves below, kicking them up from the impact.

“I like proving them wrong, for one.” Daichi followed him, albeit more slowly. He grabbed things along the way to slow his descent.

By this point, Terushima knew if Daichi wasn’t a regular travelling foreigner, then he was something of an intrigue he would like to take home and show to Misaki. The technique in which he did everything made him want to stare and see more.

“But prophecies are divine, aren’t they?” Terushima asked. He made an easy pace, keeping half his attention to his footing and the other half on Daichi.

The kingly human swooped by obstacles with ease. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day,” Daichi said.

Terushima paused at an opening in a tree. He could go on for longer, but he knew the limits of a human. Daichi would tire soon.

The dragon king also would like to hear what the kingly human would have to say to his questions. There was something about Daichi he could trust. He suspected it was his worldly wisdom and easygoing nature that so resembled Okudake in its likeness.

“What do you mean? Do you dare to go against the tide of destiny, Daichi-san?”

Daichi took the chance to lay against the trunk and catch his breath. He saw Terushima watching him intently, waiting for his answer. His shoulders loosened, a helpless smile on his face as he looked above where birds flew under a tinted green sky. A large cloud must have been passing by, because their surroundings darkened considerably.

“What has any higher power ever done for me? I’ve earned and fought for my place in this world tooth and nail. Everything I’ve done can’t have been predicted because someone else said so.” Daichi shook his head, realizing bitterness had slipped into his tone part way. “Terushima, humans are weak. We don’t have powers. We get cursed, start wars, and become forgotten if left alone. Kingdoms and empires are abandoned and lost to the passages of time.”

Terushima thought Daichi’s speech was done until he inserted a clear, “But.”

“Humans can be beautiful and understanding. We can be nurturing and kind. We can overcome the past and start anew like fires and ash.” Daichi’s eyes softened as if recalling memories attached to his words. “We can forgive and treasure every moment we have because we know we will not last. We can make a future that’s better for our children and their children, because that is what our fathers and mothers have done before us, and also, because we love them.”

The cloud finished passing over the sun. Technicolor returned to the forest, reviving them in the renewed brightness.

“People with lives like you and me are lost. We can be a human who finds himself in a mysterious forest with huge ass trees, or we can be a dragon looking for the purpose of his life. Terushima, tell me. Which one of these can I help you with?”

The dragon king looked away, terrified at the clarity in which the kingly human gazed at him. It was as if he could see that which he could not. With the imoogi, Terushima felt irritation and frustration. With the human, all Terushima could feel was patience and warmth. Daichi made him feel like he had a soul. It was odd, and Terushima was not used to being treated like he mattered just for existing.

He drew his attention to the trees around them, noting this area was particularly sparse in the colossal trees they had passed by. A species of plant that was usually found near dormant volcanoes was scattered in an unusual pattern across the floor they overlooked from the high branch they rested on. It almost looked...matted and stomped on, caving in the middle.

“Wow.” Terushima turned to see Daichi with a hand shading his eyes, assessing the forest floor with him. Something like fire burned in Daichi’s eyes as he met Terushima’s. “Doesn’t this look like…?”

Unlike before, Terushima was the one to follow Daichi in his train of thought.

“...A nest,” Terushima finished, awe slackening his jaw. Without a moment’s thought, he stepped forward into thin air, letting himself fall.

“Terushima!” Daichi’s panic was expected but unnecessary.

“I’m fine!” Terushima laughed as he transformed mid-fall and descended with his wings jutted out. He could hear Daichi grumbling above, to which he smiled.

He landed outside of the ring. He transformed back into human form to preserve the fading scent of a dragon nest. He could tell with a single whiff. His instincts told him so.

This was the place he was born so many centuries ago.

“Don’t go running off like that!” Daichi huffed, coming to kneel beside Terushima. He must have caught on to Terushima’s rapt attention to the nest, because he said no more.

The dragon king caressed the layers of detritus and leaves, smoothing his hands over the lava rocks hidden beneath. Faint snippets of his first days occurred behind his closed lids at the rough smell of sulfur. All he could conjure of his birth mother was her eyes, a deep brown like newly purified soil, and her scales like quicksilver. It was no wonder she hid under the cover of the ancient forest where light was consumed readily, greedily.

Terushima could have stayed there with his eyes closed forever if Daichi hadn’t spoke up.

“Are you alright?” Daichi touched his shoulder. “Here.”

He opened Terushima’s hand and closed his fingers around a handkerchief Daichi had dug out of his pack. The material was simple cotton. Terushima knew how cotton woven by the best felt, but the fabric on this small handmade piece of cloth was clearly sewn with attention and care. Terushima had no skill with magic besides transformation, but his mentor himself told him he had an eye for determining the basic elements of all things, living or nonliving.

Daichi’s handkerchief was woven with traces of light magic. He could tell by the way his tears cleared the second he brushed the material over his eyes. “Healing” and “light” and “Daichi” made this cloth special to Terushima.

Terushima finally allowed himself to open his eyes, to allow Daichi to glimpse how vulnerable he really was.

“Better?” Daichi asked. He shook his head when Terushima offered the handkerchief back.

Terushima nodded. Good, Daichi didn’t ask or acknowledge Terushima’s tears.

“It was so easy,” Terushima murmured, quiet in the silence. “I’ve been searching for this place all by myself, you know. I was prepared to look for another fifty years if that’s what it would take.”

Daichi listened, resting his elbows on his knees as they watched the day dance between the trees. It truly felt as if they were alone without prying eyes on them for the first time that day.

“I meet you, a directionally-challenged human, and I find it within hours.” Terushima turned to Daichi, frown etched into his lips. “Tell me, Daichi-san. What would you have me do, if I considered you as a blessing for all my troubles? How can I repay you?”

The only sound between them was the soft whistle of the breezes rustling the leaves like the wind does to the sea.

“It’s simple.”

In this moment, Daichi glowed radiant as he smiled wide with eyes pinched at the corners.

He must laugh often, Terushima thought upon the sight.

“Take me to the capital, and you can consider me whatever you like.”