Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was a heavy thickness in the air. One that Tadashi had to force himself to breathe down as he stumbled through the halls of his home.

Screams and sounds from all around him made his mind flurry, the smell of death overwhelming his senses. As he runs his hand through his disheveled hair, he can feel the blood on his hands stick to his face, the stench immediately enveloping him. He comes to a standstill, his situation slowly dawning upon him. 

He was going to die. 

From all around him, he could see the damage to the palace, bright flashes of fire visible through the windows, the embers and lights radiant against the dark void of the night. Even through his tattered sandals, he could feel the vibrations of the angry mob around the building, threatening to break into his oasis at any moment. It had only been moments before that he had witnessed his parents be struck down, all due to greed. Greed strong enough to turn those who were once dear to him to those who were willing to see his death. He would never be able to grow up with his siblings. He would never have the chance to explore the world. He would never be able to find the love his parents crooned about. 

He will never be able to do anything else. 

Tadashi’s knees buckle with the realization, the air in his chest slowly becoming more and more difficult to grasp. Tears he had known were welling up, tears he has been holding back from months of unease and panic, all seem to flow as soon he hits the ground. His hair surrounds him, the hair tie holding it back long gone, funneling his  vision towards his palms. His chest started heaving, his throat feeling like it was constricting around his neck. The pit in his stomach seemed to expand, an aching pain fanning his insides. A hot, burning sensation filled his ears, as if molten blood was oozing out. This was horrible. 

He barely sensed the quick, panicked pads of someone running. Tadashi twisted around and stood, holding his katana with a practiced, precise distance from his target, his chest continuing to heave and his empty hand continuing to tremor. As the person in front of him came into view, Tadashi released a deep sigh of relief, enough to make him fall back onto his knees. As the woman knelt in front of him, her hands tightening around Tadashi’s shoulder. 

“Tadashi.” the old woman crooned, her voice enough to make any, and all of Tadashi’s composure break. Days of having to quell a rebellion he didn’t cause, months of having to keep his cool, only to come back to his childhood home to see his family dead. It all floods the moment Tadashi sees her. 

“Obaa-san !” he cried, crying into his grandmother’s chest, her familiar, yet already foreign scent enough to throw him over the edge. “They’re all gone! Every si-single one of them. M-my parents. Takumi. Sumiko. They’re gone!” he wailed, agony threatening to rip him apart. He could feel his grandmother stiffen, her already tight grip around him tightening even more. His thoughts fled out, his mind reasoning that he was going to die anyway. “A-and..I won’t be able to live! I won’t be able to do anything. Oh obaa-san, I’m scared. I fought them, but they kept coming. What do we do?” he whimpered. 

His grandmother doesn’t say anything, only taking an old yet firm hand and lifting Tadashi’s chin up. When he looks up, through the tears that have threatened to take a hold of him, he can feel his own eyes widen at the resolve in hers. 

“I did not get to save them,” she attested, the wetness in her eyes never leaving. “But I will save you Tadashi,” she declares, before quickly standing up and pulling Tadashi along with her, down the achingly familiar halls. 

As Tadashi follows her whims, he is temporarily taken back to his younger siblings pulling his arms as they rush to show him something. Giggles and exclamations as they explain something that happened while he was on tour. Such a recent yet distant memory that threatens to envelop Tadashi as he is pulled into another hallway. 

For a second, he can smell the cherry blossom essence his mother used to wear, always saying that a scent was a way into people’s minds. That, and a great smile. She would always remind him before his diplomatic travels, before bugging him about getting another family portrait. When he is pulled into the main hall, Tadashi can almost feel her smile, her portrait looking down at him with the same warmth as he pulled further away from it. 

Reaching his grandmother’s quarters, he can see the glint of his father’s katana to the opposite of him. Always a strict man, he made sure that Tadashi knew how to take care of himself, how to fight, and how to protect those closest to him. But as he takes one last look at the katana, he can see the small bead charm he had made as a kid, the strings worn down from constant use. He had given it to his father as a gift during a birthday, not really expecting him to use it and almost jumping for joy when he saw it clink during an official meeting. 

The memories seem to create phantoms and shadows, creeping up on him and creating a pitfall as he is dragged by his grandmother, as if forcing him to keep up. 

He is pulled and pushed into his grandmother’s painting room, canvases and pigments surrounding him. Painting had been the one thing that his grandmother had taken from the Westerners, allowing the figment of culture to enter her heart and mind. He had vivid memories of sitting in the same room, getting “patience lessons” as an excuse to sit and have his grandmother paint him, her caretaker Maria holding him still. 

He didn’t have a clue as to where Maria was. The thought made him want to vomit. 

As his grandmother slides the door closed, he can hear a crack and a symphony of roars, the mob finally breaking their way into the building. He can see his grandmother’s face crack for a moment, for a look of extreme determination to take over. From a corner, she pulls out an ancient book, a bright orange and black design adorning its spine, immediately sliding off materials from a table to place it on. After frantically flipping for a few seconds, she finds what she is looking for and releases a quick sigh of relief, only to then look at Tadashi with a sad smile. He has no idea what it is, but the look is enough to make the pit in his stomach fall. 

“ Obaa-san? What is it?” 

She peers at him, the candlelight in the room shining in her eyes. “Promise that you will do what I say.” she declares, her tone making Tadashi’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Before he can refute, she shakes her head, sticking her hand out to stop him. “No time to debate. You heard them, Tadashi. They are on their way. Promise me. Quickly.”

A million thoughts race through his head, doubts and confusion popping up in his mind. Yet he cannot attempt to say anything else, the situation forcing him to nod his head. He put his hand on his heart, his other arm behind his back, before stating, as clear as he could, “I promise I will do as you say.”

His grandmother’s eyes crinkle with a joy that seems incredibly out of place, before looking down at the book, taking a breath, and looking back at him, and beginning an incantation. 

“You will live. For those who have fallen around you, you will live. You will live. You will live. Until the one who doubles your days with light is found, you shall walk the earth. To balance the world’s order, the moon shall serve as your sun, and time will twist and fade your mind. You will live. This is my decree. Yamaguchi Tadashi, you will live.” 

Tadashi can only open his mouth in shock when he can feel warmth surrounding him, lifting his arm to only see it glowing. He looks back at his grandmother, gasping at the sight of her completely still, yet free flowing tears from around her face. 

“This was not your fault Tadashi,” she weakly whispers, whatever this was draining her enough for her to lean against the table. “You deserve to live, Tadashi. Everyone here did,” she continues, before collapsing, her strength seizing. Tadashi flies over, cradling his grandmother’s head in his arms as he tries to lift her up, only to receive another head shake and stop hand. “I have lived my life, Tadashi. You need to live yours.”

“No. No, no, no. Obaa-san, don’t do this,” Tadashi pleads, attempting to lift her up once again, yet finding no strength to do so. As he looks at his fingers, his eyes widen to see them slowly fading away. From his fingers, he sees small orbs of light creating a floating path, leading to a painting that is slowly starting to…paint him.

His grandmother gently grabs onto his arms, dragging him back to reality. He looks at her with urgency, fear pouring through his eyes. She smiles, the warmth of it making Tadashi feel horrible, before reaching up and cradling his head with her hand. “Do not be scared. It is our family magic. I was going to tell you when you got older, but I am afraid I will never get the chance,” she chuckles, in a way that is so out of place, it makes Tadashi feel faint. She holds him longer and looks him in the eyes, as if she wanted nothing more than for Tadashi to resonate with her words. “You are Yamaguchi Tadashi, the prince. We love you. And while we won’t be there to see it, you will always make us proud.”

Tadashi feels the rest of his body fading and he puts his forehead against hers, tears he didn’t know he was shedding dripping down his chin. As he embraces her, he can feel his consciousness fade away, as if falling into a deep, deep slumber. Just as he starts to fall into whatever this is, he can hear his grandmother’s gentle, yet constantly strong voice reminding him. 

“ Live. ”

 ☆☆☆

If there was one thing Kei could not do, and with a real emphasis on cannot, it was late nights.

He had more memories of passing out before the clock hit 12 than actual memories of celebrating. He would get fussy as a child, throwing tantrums and becoming a pain to deal with. Of course when you grow up, there is no surprise that the time you stay awake increases with your age. So instead of a fussy, slightly annoying child, Kei became a bitchy, frankly a little assholeish grown man as the hours grew later.

But of course, of course, life can’t help but be a thorn in his side. Because when Kuroo walks through the office door, a cheshire smile adorning his face, Kei is positive he is in for a lot of late nights. 

God, it was a good thing he enjoyed what he did. 

He had faced enough ribbing from Hinata and Kageyama about his job to know that it wasn’t the most exciting, or the most tantalizing, but it gave Kei a thrill unlike any other. Because for him, being a museum curator wasn’t just pouring over old books or coughing at the dust from an old painting, it was finding stories. 

It made sense that his friends - and their lack of brains - didn’t seem to get the appeal of finally landing a contract for an exhibit or analyzing a passage to find its hidden details. But to Kei, it felt like he had a responsibility to the stories he was telling. He had this responsibility to make sure that their stories were portrayed in a way that made people feel what his subjects felt. He knew this responsibility and you could stab him before he took it lightly. 

So late nights will have to do. 

And even if Kei could physically feel the spike of annoyance that enveloped him when he saw Kuroo, he could also feel the jolt of excitement. He would be able to put together someone’s whole life and make it so that people would be able to live it, even if it was just glancing at the small little blurb or leaving their annoying fingerprints on the glass cases. 

This particular project was something that Kei completely enveloped himself into. It was completely and utterly one of the most interesting stories Kei had ever seen. 

“The Lost Prince!!!” Kuroo exclaimed dramatically, bursting through the office door with a force enough to make the hinges creak. How he had that much energy at 8 am, Kei would never ever understand.

It took Kei and Akaashi a comically long amount of time of blank staring before Kuroo cleared his throat, intent on actually explaining. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know! How on earth can you call yourself museum curators without knowing this amazing bit of Japanese History?!” he exclaimed again, flailing his arms around like a mad man. 

Kei sighed, letting out a huff of air. He could try to calm him down, he could , but previous experiences have let him realize that it is beyond him. “Oh please. Enlighten us,” he deadpans. 

Kuroo chuckles at Kei’s “no can do” spirit, but continues anyway. In a comedic, mystery voice he starts,  “Well basically, there was this small kingdom, I mean it was small. But they had a proper monarchy and everything. Well, anyway, according to surviving documents, there was some uproar, and it caused the villagers to rebel against the royal family, slaughtering all of them.” 

Akaashi interrupts, “And I’m assuming, though it is just a hunch, that the prince was never found. ”

Eagerly nodding, Kuroo pulls out the manila file he had entered the room with. “Exactly! We had records of him, but it was almost like anything directly about him vanished. No body was recovered, no belongings were ever found. I mean we didn’t even have a name! In any and all documents he was just given the nickname Mountain. So in the history buff community, he was given the name the Lost Prince.” And with a dramatic flair that only Kuroo could have this goddamn early, he slams the folder on the table. “That was…until two days ago.” 

As he pulls out the documents and photos from the folder and passes them around, he continues, a slightly more professional tone in his words. “Some excavators were going through the palace and ruins and found a never before seen room. And in the room,” he pauses, before sliding a shiny, printed photo towards Kei and Akaashi, the duo instinctively leaning towards it. “The one and only painting of the now identified, Lost Prince. And guess who got the first rights for it to be in our one, our only Sendai City Museum. Guess. Don’t guess. It was me. Cool, right?” 

It took one look at the photo for Kei to look back up at Kuroo annoyingly. “You’re joking, right?”

Kuroo, who had been standing proudly with his arms crossed, quickly dissolved. “What? What’s wrong?”

Akaashi calmly slid the photo back to him, pointing at its contents. “This is a photo of the back of the canvas.”

Kuroo lunged at the photo, grabbing it with both hands and holding it up to his head. “Well would you look at that,” he murmured, before looking back at Kei and Akaashi. “Well. Um. Well, anyway this is our next assignment! And…well…I guess the Lost Prince’s face will be a mystery to you guys as well!” he exclaimed, all his previous embarrassment seemingly gone with this new realization. 

Kei’s face scrunches up in confusion, a little concerned he had heard right. “Wait, what? How are we supposed to curate a whole exhibit if we don’t know his name or his face?”

Kuroo shrugged and started walking out of the door, clear on escaping his underlings. “I mean, you will work on context and Akaashi works on aftermath. As the only person who knew about the Lost Prince and your boss. I get the privilege of overseeing the placement of the portrait and all of the Lost Prince’s information. Ha!” he chuckled, before quickly sliding the office door out of the way and gliding out, only to peek back in. “I’ll send you the information and logistics. Love you guys!”

Kei sighs and facepalms, slowly sliding his hand down in his face. “If I die, it’s because of him, Akaashi. If I go mentally insane, it is because of him. I swear.”

Akaashi sighs and gets up, lightly tapping Kei’s back before walking to the door, a ridiculously large thermos of coffee in hand. “He has good intentions. I can tell you that much in the one year I have been here longer than you. And who knows,” he pauses near the door, looking back at Kei with a mysterious, almost eerie look in his eye. “Maybe this exhibit will be one that changes your life.” he smirked, gracefully exiting the room. 

Kei realized that day that he worked with weirdos. 

And so began late nights of scrutinizing any and every document about the ancient kingdom town of Isobe. Background, formation, the king, and the royal family. It was exciting, Kei had to admit. 

There was just an allure about this story that Kei couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as if there was this underlying thread of mystery that made Kei delve more. Even though, based on records, this kingdom seemed to be a smaller one, as Kei looked deeper, there were more and more bouts of information that made that assumption seem false. No record talked about a motive. It ticked off Kei. It felt like something was off from the government documents and records they had. As if something was missing.  

However, every single class in history and its portrayal made it clear, abundantly so, that gut feelings and inferences were something that could be discussed but never displayed. So Kei compacted his assumptions in his head, always intent on writing it in the margins of his leather-bound journal, but never sharing out loud. With Kuroo going absolutely bonkers about this Lost Prince, Kei could not let it out that it was something he had an iota of interest in. 

Kuroo took the whole, “I guess the Lost Prince will be a surprise!” thing a bit too seriously. From blocking off folders of information, to never mentioning his or Akaashi’s name, to even bribing Bokuto to keep them away from the Lost Prince specific area of the exhibit. Kei lowkey thought that Kuroo hadn’t bribed, rather blackmailed his way into getting Bokuto to guard Akaashi. It looked like it killed him every time he had to stop Akaashi from making his way into the room. Oh yeah, Kuroo definitely blackmailed him. 

Oh well. Whatever Kei didn’t need to know, he didn’t need to know. 

This became his daily routine. Wake up, morning routine, take the train, enter the office, clock-in, small talk with Akaashi before Kuroo bursts in dramatically, analyze documents, write findings down, eat lunch, attempt a (small) peek at the exhibit, get blocked by Bokuto, write suspicions down, before finally clocking out, taking the train, and passing out. 

That was until the day before the exhibition opening. At an hour almost too late, Kei had been overlooking his final notes for the next day when Kuroo popped his head (and huge hair) into his already small office. 

“They just installed everything. Oh god Tsukki, it looks great! Great job! Aaaannnndddddd,” he drawled before widening his smile. “The portrait was put up too! So you and Akaashi finally get to see him!” 

Kei sighed. “We would have been able to see him weeks ago if you had printed the right photo.”

Chuckling, Kuroo shrugged. “Potato, potahto. Whatever! You get to see him now! Akaashi already took a look before! At least make sure to take a look before tomorrow morning. We have a full house tomorrow and we wouldn't want you to make a fool of yourself!” 

Kei gave him a glare, which earned him a signature Kuroo guffaw, before the elder bid him a good night and walked away, Kei hearing the little tune he hummed getting further and further. 

No matter how much Kei despised long nights, his need for perfectionism was past his aversion. Even before he knew it, Kei had long passed the hour he usually leaves, pouring over his important notes for the next day. He needed to be available if anyone had a question regarding anything in the background of the kingdom. 

It only hit Kei that he was quite past his usual time when his eyes began to feel heavier, the energy he had put into blinking now becoming apparent. He looked at the clock, an angry 5:50 am staring back at him in red, electronic colors. He would probably get a few hours before he had to return. Oh well. Sighing, he gathered his things, sliding them into his briefcase and wobbly getting up from his chair, the hours making his knees hinge. 

As he closed his door, he could hear its echo resonate throughout the hall. Without a doubt, it was probably just him and Bokuto in the entire museum, the latter most likely on the other side of the museum at this point in the night. Many of the staff had a habit of taking it easy before a big exhibit, one that Kei couldn’t quite understand but didn’t really care enough to think of the why. He walked slowly and steadily, passing the hallway of offices before reaching the grand hall, its many offshoots leading to various exhibits. 

Though he could feel his brain literally turning into mush, Kei realized that he should, no he had to take a look at the other parts of the exhibit. It was part of his responsibility to at least know. I mean, how could he call himself a museum curator if he didn't know what was curated? 

So he stopped in his tracks, heaves quite possibly one of the heaviest sighs he has ever heaved, and begrudgingly stomps over to the exhibit. He scans his card, and pulls the door open, feeling the wish of air behind him as the door auto locks. 

As he looked around his room, he could see familiar photos and text staring back at him, now blown up so that an average grandparent can see it. Kuroo wasn’t lying, it really did look great. There were recovered artifacts that matched Kei’s explanations, his maps pointing out important locations, and just an overall aesthetic that he knew Kuroo inevitably scrutinized over. 

Kei looked at the last wall of his room, a timeline that he created merging into the one of the next room. The Lost Prince’s room. As Kei walked in, he tried to contain his sight to the linearity of the timeline, knowing it was probably one of the details that Kuroo meticulously curated. 

It was definitely moments like these where Kei felt something akin to respect towards Kuroo. He cared about his craft in a way that was so masterful, it made Kei jealous. Not that he would ever admit it. 

As he continued to look, from his point of view, he could see the side of the canvas, its gold frame shining beautifully under the moonlight of the gigantic window parallel to itl. Kei looked back at the timeline, reading more and more about the Prince until he finally got to a large gold panel. 

“Yamaguchi Tadashi. The Lost Prince of the Isobe Kingdom.”

Somewhere behind him, the clock tower struck 6, the deep sounds resonating in the back of Kei’s head as he looked up at the portrait. Only to see…

Absolutely nothing. 

It was a blank canvas. 

There was nothing on the canvas.

Kei feels his mouth begin to drop, before a flurry of something flashes in front of him and he is pulled and pushed against the window with a force unbeknownst to him. Oh god, he had never been more happy of the fact that he was on the first floor and that this window was strong as fuck. 

Yet despite the strength of the window and his distance to the ground, he still lets out a yelp in pain as his head bangs against the reinforced glass, instinctively shutting his eyes. Before he can even comprehend what is happening, he feels something sharp and heavy against his throat. He gulps, feeling his Adam’s Apple hit the blade of the knife? Sword? 

“Where am I?” a soft, yet angry voice asks, breaking Kei out of his mini stupor. Slowly, Kei opens his eyes, his mind abruptly pausing as he looks in front of him. 

What hit him first was the smell of smoke, a woody smell that Kei instantly cemented in his mind. Freckle-like scars riddled the man's face. A forest green kimono, the deep neckline showing a hint of developed pectorals. And more than anything, deep brown eyes, filled with such a sense of absolute frustration and confusion, it almost made Kei feel bad. Almost. 

Because what the actual hell is happening?

The stranger pushed even closer at Kei’s silence, the cool blade coming uncomfortably close to Kei’s jugular. 

“Where am I?” he repeated, an angry sigh in his words. 

Kei tried to breathe. “The- the Sendai City Museum.” 

The man’s eyes flashed with confusion before looking all over Kei’s face, seemingly analyzing him the same way Kei had just done. Kei takes this chance to glance to his side, his eyes almost gauging at what he sees. 

To his side, is a smaller, more compacted version of the painting, laying in a brochure. Instead of the blank canvas, the smaller version contained a subject in the painting. The man in the painting had wild dark brown, almost green hair. A forest green kimono. With a katana to his side. A katana that had a charm. 

As he continued to stare, the man seemed to follow his line of sight, and right as the man scooped the brochure up with a fell swoop, Kei realized who he was, his mind spinning at the thought. It couldn’t be. There was actually no way. But as he looked back at the man, it clicked in his head. It was undeniable. 

“You-you’re the Lost Prince,” he uttered, his mind seemingly out of control. The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, pushing even closer to Kei, the brochure crumpling his hands. 

“What are you talking about?” he jeers, a frustration now apparent in his words.

“You are Yamaguchi Tadashi. The prince of Isobe,” Kei spat out, the fear in his mind taking over his usual nonchalance, his face crumpling up in anxiety

He felt an immediate release at his words, the loss of pressure immediately giving him a chance to breathe a breath he didn’t know needed. Kei couldn’t help but hunch over and huff, the fear of the past twenty seconds now filling with adrenaline and anxiety. What the actual fuck was happening right now?

“How do you know that?”

The stern voice snaps Kei out of whatever mind palace he was in, almost immediately straightening up and looking at the man. 

The same wild hair. The dark green kimono. To the man's side, he can see the hilt of a katana, the same small charm dangling against the smooth metal. It looked exactly like the man in the painting. Yamaguchi Tadashi, the prince of Isobe. The former Lost Prince. What the hell?

“The brochure. That is you right?” Kei replied, his body feeling like it was in jello. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was from the frequent long nights. Maybe it was the fact that a man from decades ago was now in front of him. This felt like something from a story. Or some ridiculous myth that his older brother would tell him in an effort to scare him. How the hell could this be happening right now? This man was presumed to be dead. A long, long, long, long, time ago. But there was no denying it. The man in front of him was the Prince of Isobe.

The man slowly raised his arms, looking at the brochure in great detail. Kei could see his eyes scan the small page, taking in all of the information. He could see the man’s eyes slowly widen, more and more information making his expression change. It shifted with something akin to a concerned surprise before changing to a tired, dilapidated look. With a sigh, he lowered his arm limply. He simply stood, looked at the frame in which his image was supposed to take up. 

All Kei could do was watch. There was a dormant fear pounding in his heart and he could feel the line of sweat dripping down from his hairline. Was this some sick prank? Did Kuroo hire someone to scare him? If so, they really did their homework. Kei was about to ask the man as such, when he suddenly put his hands in his hair and started screaming. 

“Ugh, you’re right! This is me!” the man croaked, his words being muffled by his arms. He whipped them back down, only to start walking from side to side, his eyes focusing on his steps while his arms flailed around. “I mean, what the hell?! What was Obaa-san thinking?! Was she out of her mind?!” All of a sudden he stopped walking, standing still and pinching his forehead, as if he was battling a headache. “Over a 100 years, I’ve been stuck in that stupid painting! Of course one day, I was going to be put up like this! She was always so quick to act before she thought.” 

What the hell was this guy on? 

Kei could only stare in confusion as the man continued to ramble, going on and on about how the painting was bound to be put on display and how some obaa-san should have really told him about the “stupid magic.” 

This was too much. Kei couldn’t. I mean, he shouldn’t. The man had a katana for god sakes. He almost killed him less than a minute ago. He has better common sense. Kei wouldn’t. 

Kei cleared his throat, actively bringing all of the man’s attention towards him. He stopped in his tracks, his brown eyes lasering on to Kei. He gave him another look-over, meticulously examining everything on Kei’s body with practiced ease, before finally looking at him in his eyes. And then, as if a bubble burst, the man melted. 

“I’m so sorry!”

Huh?

“I didn’t mean to target you, I swear! It was one of those muscle memory things people say these days! I needed to make sure that you were not a threat,” he spit out, only to immediately turn pale and look at him nervously. “Not that you aren’t a threat! I mean, not a bad threat! I would think that if you tried you could be a threat!” he babbled, only to sigh when he realized the sheer amount of what he said. 

Kei could feel the confusion spread back on his face, the sheer whiplash of the interaction throwing him off his guard. This man was moments away from actually killing him in the moonlight and all of a sudden there was a floundering personality of his, actively trying not to make him feel bad. Kei was staring in perplexion when a flash of warmth hit his face, prompting him to look in the direction. 

Good god, it was the sun. 

It flashed a bit of panic throughout Kei’s mind. He had stayed up so late, the sun was literally up. How the hell would he lead a day full of presentations? The thought made him pause for a bit, before his brain seemed to catch up with the situation at hand. How the hell would he lead a day full of presentations, when the literal topic of said presentations had been in front of him, up close and personal? 

Thinking about said subject made his body screenshot, so many thoughts floating around his mind making it extremely difficult to stay focused. He looked back at the man, only for his eyes to go wide. 

The man stood in front of him, a bright smile and wide eyes adorning his face as he stared through the window, his eyes softly analyzing the different parts of the sunset.

“It’s been so long since I have seen a proper sunrise,” he whispered in a way that almost made Kei forget about everything that had just happened. There was a reverence in the man’s voice, as if the sunrise was something that revitalized him. His expression carried an unknown softness that Kei had rarely seen. It was one that Kei felt was built through perseverance and strong belief. He had seen it on Hinata when he was finally able to set properly, or on Kageyama when he was able to communicate with his teammates. Hell, he had his own experience with growth and what it can help you achieve. 

It was an expression that made Kei fall soft. So soft, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

The man looked back at him, his smile still adorning his face. “Just wait,” he beamed, the expression on his face carrying a confusing mix of mischief and tranquility. As if magic, the man started to glow, a halo surrounding the outline of his body. Slowly, his body started to fade, orbs of light popping off of him and floating towards the canvas. As it landed, it would absorb into the canvas, before painting the portion back on. He looked back to Kei, before smiling once more. 

“I will be back tonight! Once the sunsets and the moon is out! I would love some company!” he bubbled, before fully fading away, the last few iridescent orbs melding into the canvas. It now adorned the painting displayed on the brochure, one that displayed a more dignified and strong image of the prince. At least compared to the one Kei had seen a mere moments ago. He could feel his wide eyes widen further and his jaw to drop lower. 

What on Earth just happened? It sounded like something from a fiction novel. A man in a painting? Not any man, but a prince? 

But he couldn’t deny it. A theory from a forum? The plausibility is questionable. A thesis by some Phd. Okay, there's more merit. But something he saw with his own two eyes? Å sight he was able to talk and interact with? You couldn’t deny it. 

He is left still by the whole thing, idly gawking at the painting, when he hears a door open, jolting at its sudden sound. 

Like a giant middle finger to his face, Kuroo’s face pops through the door frame. 

“Wow Tsukki! Here already? What an overachiever!” he exclaimed, while putting his hands on his hips and walking towards Kei. There was no way. It was almost opening time. Kei didn’t get an ounce of sleep. He would have to run this on Red Bulls, coffee, and sheer willpower. 

Kei could only stare silently as Kuroo walked to where he was, standing next to him to look at the painting. As he looked up, his expression seemed to take a more serious tone, before speaking.

“There’s something there right? I mean, I found myself just staring at it for a crazy long time when it first came in. It just hooks you right in and you’re not able to look away. Like…like magic or something! Y’know?” he marveled, before looking at Kei. It was different from the usual teasing lilt that lined his expressions. Maybe wonder? Kei was too tired to tell. All he could do was stare at Kuroo for a second, before nodding blankly and looking back at the painting, his fuzzy mind not stopping him from responding. 

“You’re right. There’s something about it.” 

 ☆☆☆

That whole day, Kei ran on autopilot, the amount of Red Bull and coffee reanimating him enough to complete his basic responsibilities. He couldn’t even enjoy the appeal of a new exhibit, not fully being able to take in the curious glances and coherently answer eager questions. 

Ever so often, he would remember his morning and feel a jolt of confusion rush through his body. Thoughts of long brown hair and deep brown eyes bounced around his mind. 

There were moments where he would feel like he had just dreamed the whole thing up, only for the bruising from being slammed to flair up. It was real. It had been a real thing that happened. Kei couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

It didn’t stop his curiosity however. 

How did this happen? Who was this Obaa-san ? Was it some sort of figment of the prince’s soul or was it actually him? Why did no one else find him before this? What the hell would happen this evening? 

The questions didn’t stop floating around his mind, almost fueling him to stay conscious. It would creep into his actions, causing him to bounce his knees or act uncharacteristically jittery. It felt like the hours would drag along, and drag Kei along with them. He knew he was acting completely insane, nothing like how he usually did, but he couldn’t help it. The absolute absurdity of what just happened fanning the ever so curious flame within him. 

Kei needed to know more about the prince. 

So when the day had finally, finally, come to the end and Kuroo asked someone to close up, Kei had quickly raised his hand. Of course, it earned him a side-eye from Akaashi and a blank Kuroo, the duo quite confused as to why he was suddenly so eager, yet he couldn’t help it. So he goes through the motions of bidding them goodbye, waving at them and locking the door behind them. He looks at the sky, the sunset painting one side with pink and orange cloud swirls, while the other side took on a darker hue. 

“Once the sunsets and the moon comes out!” the man had exclaimed. He pulled out the weather app and looked for the sunset time. He had 10 minutes until it finished. 

He looked like a madman doing all the close-up duties, running around the rooms to make sure everything was set up for tomorrow. Finally stumbling into his office, Kei frantically started packing up his things, shoving them in his bag and pushing it on his shoulder. As he started walking to the display, he could feel his hands start to sweat and his throat begin to feel dry. Was he nervous? Excited? Kei couldn’t put a word on it. 

He slowly opened the door, the final rays of sunlight blinding him as he made his way to the painting. Standing right in front of it, he looked up. It was a ridiculously big canvas, the bottom of the canvas scraping the floor and the top nearing the ceiling. The prince was pictured unlike any other painting from the era, the style resembling one of western portraits. 

The prince stood at an angle, both hands on his katana as he looked at Kei. His face carried an expression that was calm and dignified, yet Kei could see a warmth shine through a practiced gaze. A myriad of scars littered the prince’s face, the strands of dark brown hair framing his face. 

It looked so realistic. More than any other painting Kei had ever seen. Even as Kei started to move backwards, further away from the painting and towards the window, the painting continued to hold his attention. His eyes couldn’t seem to leave. Kuroo was right. If you didn’t know what was going on with it, you would be drawn in. It had this pull that was beyond something that could be explained. 

As if his mind had manifested his thoughts, the painting began to glow. The sky started to darken, gray clouds starting to replace the orange hues. In a completely opposite way from the previous night, orbs of light started to separate from the canvas, floating down and landing a couple feet in front of the painting, right in front of Kei. Each time a separate orb left, more and more of the painting started to fade, before all of the orbs gathered and created a figure. After a moment, the light settled, revealing the figure of the prince, his eyes closed as if sleeping. He stood there for a second, before taking a deep breath, as if breathing in life. 

The prince’s eyes fluttered open after a couple of seconds, blinking quickly to adjust to the change in environment. There was a moment of silence in which the prince analyzed the sight in front of him, his eyes quickly scanning what was in front of him. His deep brown eyes met Kei’s. Kei felt his heart stop for a second. There was something magnetic about those eyes. The prince blinked a few times in recognition, before a bright smile spread across face. 

“You! From last night! You came back!” he chirped, pointing at Kei with a childlike surprise on his face. 

Kei could only stand still. The whole sight was incredible. If he had doubts before, they were all gone. He knew himself that much, and there was absolutely no way his imagination was that powerful. This was very much real. As he stared at the man expectantly looking for an answer, he couldn’t articulate a proper response, simply settling on a small, “Yes.”

The prince nodded and walked towards him, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Who are you? What is your name?”

The charm on his katana chirped with the movement. Kei gulped. “I work here, your majesty. I am Tsukki-” 

“Oh please! Do not call me your majesty! Whatever influence I had is long gone, Tsukki!” he exclaimed, an incredulous expression on his face as he chuckled. Kei had no idea where ‘Tsukki’ came from, and though he had given hard glares at those who had called him that in the past, none of those people had a katana and knew how to use it. 

So Kei only nodded, before dumbly starting, “Then…what should I call you?” 

The prince looked at him in confusion, the small grin still adorning his face. “By my name, of course.” 

Kei’s eyes widened with shock, shaking his hands in refusal. “No, no, no. I couldn’t possibly.”

The prince looked at him with even more fake confusion, his smile growing at Kei’s apparent panic. “And why not? Do you not like my name?” he teased, his eyes filled with a growing mischief. 

Kei’s mouth dropped in surprise. What on earth was going on? This was crazy. “No…no not at all..” 

The prince’s eyes twinkled. “Then say it.” 

Kei looked down at the prince, hesitation in his features. It was the same man he had seen a mere two minutes ago, yet there was so much more. Whatever glow that had simply lined him before, now seemed to exude from all of his features. He looked so bright, Kei couldn’t resist. 

“Yamaguchi,” Kei said tentatively, his words no higher than a whisper. The prince smirked at him, walking backwards with his hands behind his back. 

“Seeeeee,” he jeered. “That was not so difficult!” 

As he started walking towards the exhibit, Kei felt dumbstruck. A literal person from a century ago was standing in front of him, alive and well, and very keen on making Kei feel like a flustered mess. But he didn’t seem to know any better. There he was, simply looking out into the nighttime as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. This was insane.

“Excuse me…Yamaguchi?” Kei started, the name tasting odd. 

The man turned around to look at him, a small smile at the name. “Yes?” he coaxed, his voice light and airy. 

Kei hesitated for a second. “Can I be frank?”

Yamaguchi looked at him, his eyes widening with surprise. He slowly nodded, turning his entire body to face Kei. 

“I don’t understand this,” Kei starts, taking a step closer to him. “I mean, you are in another century. Everything is new. You don’t know anyone. This is a completely different world from before. Not to mention the magic.” He pauses, gauging the expression on Yamaguchi’s face. The warmth had left, leaving a blank look. With every blink, Kei could see the brightness from his eyes fade. He looked tired. But he needs to ask. “How are you so calm about this?”

Yamaguchi looks at him intensely, his gaze heating up the back of Kei’s neck with uncomfort. There was something so enthralling about his gaze, so filled with this unknown feeling that Kei couldn’t even comprehend. It had this ability to render Kei frozen. The museum was a place where Kei prided himself on knowing absolutely everything, yet, it was in this very same place he could feel himself fall further into the depth of this unknown. 

“My grandmother used to tell me these stories before I went to sleep,” Yamaguchi starts quietly, sighing deeply into his words as he looks down at the floor. “She would tell me about how the world was a wide and ever expanding place. She always wanted me to experience it,” he murmurs, looking down at his palm and playing with his fingers. “So, she put a spell on me.” he states blankly, now locking eyes with Kei, the intensity from before replaced with a soft, almost indecipherable, sadness. “Every day, when the moon comes out, so do I. And- when…before, when the painting was near Isobe, I would simply walk out and look around. I’ve seen so much and experienced so many things. I have literally seen the world grow around me,” he says softly, a sad smile on his face. He pauses for a second, seemingly reminiscing all of the years. “But the joy never lasts. Because everyday…” he sighs, his voice dripping with exhaustion. “...everyday I get sucked back in. I can never truly, truly live.” He looks back at Kei, vulnerability painted over his features. “To answer your question, I am calm because I have lived through every other emotion.”

Kei is rendered speechless, all of Yamaguchi’s words echoing through his head. He couldn’t even fathom waking up one day to have everyone you know gone, much less having time flipped on its head. In his time working at the museum, he had seen every angle of history. The good and the bad. Dark and light. He has read the diaries of horrible, horrible people. He has physically seen weapons of mass murderers. Kei would say it has watered down his ability to feel relationally. 

Yet, simply thinking about how long Yamaguchi had been stuck in this loop, even entertaining the thought of his everyday life, was enough to make Kei’s heart pang. He looked at Yamaguchi, the man now eagerly scanning the words beneath the displays lining the walls. His face seemed to be lighting up with every additional word, his gaze fluttering all over the display. As Kei continued to look at him. He could almost laugh at the irony. 

There Yamaguchi stood, alone in the midst of everything he had ever known, a century after it had all vanished into memory.

Kei couldn’t help but ask, “Can you end it?” 

Yamaguchi looked up at his words, a small grin remaining on his face as he looked at pictures from his past. He raised his eyebrows in confusion, his neck turning in response to the question. 

Kei cleared his throat, a flash of embarrassment shooting through him at the abrupt question. “I mean, can you end the loop of going back in?”

Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up in recognition, slowly nodding in confirmation. He prodded over to a portrait of an older lady in a magnificent kimono, a traditional fan to the side of her face as she looked intensely. The small smile on her face, the crinkle in her eyes. She looked like Yamaguchi. 

“Until the one who doubles your days with light is found, you shall walk the earth. To balance the world’s order, the moon shall serve as your sun, and time will twist and fade your mind,” Yamguchi recites, his gaze remaining on the painting as he spoke. “That is what my grandmother said when casting her spell,” he says, looking back at Kei. “I have thought about it everyday, but I can never figure it out.” 

“Let me help you.”

The words leave Kei’s mouth before he can even think. A part of him awaits the surprised look that spreads over Yamaguchi’s features, while another part of him questions his very being. Yamaguchi looks at him, his jaw dropping with surprise, his eyes creating saucers for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight. All of his features are bathed in warm moonlight, the lights of the cityscape littering his face with all kinds of colors. The sight makes Kei freeze, though he can’t imagine why. He takes a breath, waiting for an answer he didn’t know he wanted. 

“Why?” Yamaguchi asks, his voice soft and guarded. 

The simple question breaks Kei out of a trance he didn’t realize he was in. It makes Kei question his own reasoning. He could land on so many answers. This whole scenario was quite possibly the most interesting thing he had ever seen. He could get so many answers to history questions. He could study spells. He could solve a decades long mystery and get loads of recognition. 

None of those seemed to land correctly, though. The more he looked at Yamaguchi, the more he wanted to find out why. The more he wanted to help. Everything about this gave him the same feeling as working on an exhibit. He felt like he had a responsibility to help Yamaguchi learn why. Because everytime Kei caught himself looking at Yamaguchi’s eyes, he caught himself falling deeper and deeper into his mystery. 

“I am curious,” he answers, hoping his voice doesn’t sound arrogant. “My whole life is history. I have resources that we could use. I want to know more. If I help you, I learn and you become free.” 

Yamaguchi looks at him, weighing Kei’s words in his mind. Just when Kei thinks it’s too far gone, and that he’s never going to be able to recover from this, Yamaguchi smiles, the teasing grin back from before. 

“You know I cannot pay you, right? I guarantee you that no bank will take ‘I am a prince from hundred years ago’ as a reason,” he jests, his eyes crinkling with his smile. 

Kei lets out an airy chuckle, the tension from before vanishing at the joke. He rolled his eyes before dramatically retorting, “Oh how will I ever financially recover?” 

Yamaguchi starts giggling at this, the same crinkly smile that has seemed to become frequent in the two days Kei has known this man. He wondered if Yamaguchi knew he looked better when he smiled. A little thought in the back of his head whispered the notion that Kei would do a lot of things to make sure that smile remained. 

Kei ignored that notion.

“You know that this is not true, right?” Yamaguchi starts, pointing at the paragraphs in one of the display panels. “The main export was not barley wheat, it was buckwheat. I mean, that would explain why more and more bugs started to build up over time, but it's an easy mistake to make, so do not feel bad. And speaking of! That one over there, about the village map, a small correction!” he rambles, quickly walking towards another display, gesturing to Kei to follow him. 

Kei doesn’t really remember the specifics of what they talk about, the whole night blending together. It feels incredibly natural talking to Yamaguchi, despite the fact that he is more than a hundred years older than Kei. He just had this reciprocity that Kei never seemed to find in others. He shows Yamaguchi every bit of what he worked on, asking him all of the small doubts he had and Yamaguchi answering every question earnestly. What seemed to be a ten minute conversation stretched into a night time of talking, and before Kei could even realize, a hazy 5:55 yelled at him on his phone screen. It was almost time for the sunrise. 

Both of them are sitting with their back against the wall, right under the portrait, and facing the large window. Kei could sense the consecutive all-nighters sneaking up on him, his eyelids becoming heavier and his ability to lift his arms dissipating. Yamaguchi is sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs, bringing them closer to his chest, his eyes eagerly anticipating the approaching sunrise. As Kei squints at Yamaguchi, his eyelids nearly losing the ability to stay open at this point, he can truly see the myriad of scars on his face. Some were long and gash-like, probably scars from fighting or swordplay. Others were round and faint, likely acne scars. Their appearance made Kei realize that Yamaguchi, in all technicality, was the same age as him. At the time of him being sealed, he had been twenty-three and had not aged a day.

Yet, he had lived a whole lifetime alone. 

“Why are you staring?” Yamaguchi whispers, not breaking his gaze with the window. The teasing lilt in his words made the back of Kei’s neck burn. He had been told many times in his life that he was intimidating, discouraging people from teasing him. But that realization never seemed to occur to Yamaguchi. He had just seen through him. 

Kei clears his throat. “No reason.” 

Yamaguchi whips his head towards him, his mouth slightly agape. “Oh, do not do that! We just talked for an entire night! I would assume that consecutes a sliver of Tsukki’s thoughts!” 

Kei can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face, though he assumes it’s the lack of sleep that is making him lose his regular nonchalance. 

There was an aching feeling in the back of his mind, one warning him of the dangers of getting involved. He had gone through his life always assuming the worst, always gaslighting himself to ensure he was never let down. But he couldn’t deny that there was always a part of him that wanted to expect the best. No matter how he tried to push it down. 

It was that same feeling that made him speak, hesitation evident as he spoke softly. “What do you think will happen if we break the curse?” 

The question makes Yamaguchi close his mouth and crease his eyebrows. He looks back at the window with the crease remaining. He takes a few moments before lifting his head and looking back at Kei, a serene look on his face. 

“I have no idea.”

Kei can feel the shock on his face spread, the sheer bluntness of his statement taking over his expressions. He can start to feel the warmth of the sun rays on his cheeks, oranges and pinks slowly starting to take over the skyline. The light seemed to make Yamaguchi’s skin glow, an innate tan making him look like he was radiating. As if on cue, his entire body began to illuminate, the small orbs starting to coagulate and float off. 

“But I guess we will find out, right?” Yamaguchi asks, his voice as clear as the sky. He gave Kei a resolute look, the same teasing smile that had lingered on his face all night. All Kei can do is stare for a second, watching Yamaguchi continue to glow and fade away, before snapping back and nodding. 

“Yeah. We will,” he answers. Yamaguchi smiles wider and nods, everything around him shining an iridescent glow. Kei can feel a heat bloom across his chest. Before he can say anything else, Yamaguchi fades away, the last orb floating back into the painting above them. 

He leaves Kei sitting there, the warm sun tickling his face as he gazes at the sunrise they had shared just moments before.

☆☆☆

“So you’re telling me, after a full year of asking. A full year of begging, you’ll finally take the research position?!”

Kuroo looks at Kei with a ridiculous expression on his face, shock etching every single segment of his face, his arms extended as stands and leans in. Akaashi is sitting next to him, calmly drinking his coffee and looking at something on his phone, Bokuto leaning on his shoulder and fast asleep. 

Kei rolls his eyes at Kurro’s antics. “Stop being dramatic. I liked what we did for the Lost Prince exhibit, but I wanted to deep dive. Is that so wrong?” he questioned, a smug look on his face. 

To be technical, Kei wasn’t lying. He really did want to take a deep dive into the history of the Lost Prince. What he was researching however, didn’t have to be out in the open. 

In the last week, he had spent every night talking with Yamaguchi, sneaking in the minimal amounts of sleep to pass by. They would talk about everything, Yamaguchi somehow being the person who initiated most of it. Favorite colors. Favorite Foods. Kei didn’t even know he had a favorite drink until Yamaguchi asked him. They would also talk a lot about Yamaguchi - Kei asking all of these questions. He now knew that his assumption of Isobe’s main farming technique was wrong, his inference that the queen was of slight Indian descent was correct, and so many other facts about Isobe, he could probably play off that he lived there. It was enough to make Kei feel at least, if he had to admit, a little close to Yamaguchi. 

It also spurred Kei to fully immerse himself in research about Yamaguchi, spending any hour he wasn’t working on finding materials. It, however, did detrimental things to his awareness, his lack of sleep fully killing his ability to be his usual put together self. And, unfortunately, Kuroo, being ever so perceptive, had cornered Kei, badgering him about starting to do a log to make sure he got adequate sleep hours. And as a result…research position. 

“No, no, no. Of course it is not wrong,” Kuroo responded to his question, now retreating back into his seat. “It was just a shock, that’s all. It’s so many night hours that you nearly looked like you wanted to choke me the last time I suggested it.” 

Also not an oversight. It was a great excuse for having later hours and guaranteeing Kei some highly welcomed sleep. The research position also granted him access to a myriad of resources that were bound to bring some answers into Yamaguchi’s curse. 

“Well if you want it, it’s yours! It finally gives me a chance to spend some long awaited time with Kenma,” Kuroo replies to his pitch, eagerly texting someone - probably said Kenma - and smiling to himself. 

This was perfect. He gains resources. He has excuses. He secures a respectable amount of sleep. 

That night, he walks into the exhibit, armed with stacks and stacks of papers and documents. He sets them up around the painting and waits, his arms pulling his legs towards his chest. As he looks towards the window, he thinks about the curse. 

I remember her saying it was her “family magic”,  Yamaguchi had reminisced to Kei. 

Magic wasn’t that big of an anomaly to Kei. There were constant mentions of it in documents.  Especially from this period in time, there were many mentions of a magic that was blessed down lineages. Kei had even been able to exhibit a magical amulet once, though he had gone through much of the exhibit questioning its supposed supernatural powers. 

After this whole thing, Kei wasn’t so sure of intuition.

He’s brought back to the present when a now familiar glow starts to light up the room. Kei stands up and turns around, walking backwards. Kei has only seen a few times at this point, but he already knows he will never get used to it. The orbs seem to be different every time, more of the painting fading in and out. The colors also seem to change, shining more blue on the day they first met and now glowing an orange of some kind. 

What didn’t seem to change however, was the position Yamaguchi “woke up” in. He would have his eyes closed, as if he was asleep, both arms on the hilt of his katana as he stood. He would then take a deep breath, like letting life into his body. Yamaguchi's eyes would flutter open, before scanning his surroundings and landing on Kei. This time, his eyes landed on Kei and then drifted to the stacks of paper surrounding him. 

“Tsukki!” he chirped, tip-toeing over the stacks and making his way to Kei. “What are all of these?” 

“These,” Kei starts, before sitting down and gesturing to Yamaguchi to follow. “Are every single mention of your grandmother that we have.” He starts going through the stacks, taking out the pages with the green tabs and placing them in a pile. “These are every single mention of magic or curses ten years before and after the rampage,” he continues, taking out the brown tabbed pages and placing them in another stack. “And these,” he says, lifting up the tiniest stack, “are theories regarding what happened the day of the rampage.” 

He looks up at Yamaguchi, holding back a smile at Yamaguchi’s shocked expression. “When I was making resources for the exhibit, it always felt like something was off. There didn’t seem to be enough reasoning as to why people who had received so much care from you and your family would suddenly revolt. Though people who were part of it cited land issues as the reasoning, I don’t think it fits.” He takes a moment to tap on the stack for magic. “Something tells me that your grandmother’s magic has something to do with it.” 

Tadashi’s eyes widened. “Why would my grandmother’s magic spark a revolt? It seemed like it was a secret?”

Kei nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I thought, too.” He pauses to pick up a tattered excavation file. Kei couldn’t count the amount of times he had gone through the file, the number growing exponentially after learning about Yamaguchi’s existence. “Until I found this. When the archeologists found the painting, they found pages from your grandmother’s spell book. But…” he pauses, handing the pictures attached to Yamaguchi, showing a desk with a rectangle shape in the middle, the dust around it much more prominent. “...they found no book. Someone took it. It had been some time of course, otherwise the dust difference between the space and its perimeter would have been much more prominent. The excavators had blamed it on thieves, and it kind of got pushed to the side when they found your portrait.”

Tadashi leaned in closer, strands of his hair falling from the loose ponytail he kept it in. “So you think that those people, the ones that attacked, had not been after me or my family?”

Kei nods, looking down at the files in between them. “I think…they were after your magic.” Kei looked back at Yamaguchi. “It also made me think about the timing. People weren’t able to find a trace of you for years, and all of sudden they not only found a hidden room, but your portrait?” 

Yamaguchi comes to the realization just as Kei speaks. 

“Someone wanted us to find you.”

“Someone wanted you to find me!”

Kei picks up a pen and turns a page over. “ Until the one who doubles your days with light is found, you shall walk the earth. To balance the world’s order, the moon shall serve as your sun, and time will twist and fade your mind ” he writes, looking up at Yamaguchi, before tapping on the pile about magic. “I did some research on the magic of that era. There is a consensus that if you break down a spell by its meaning, you can figure out what type of magic it is. If we figure out what type of magic it is, we can try to find how to break it.” 

Yamaguchi leans forward, placing his chin on his hands. His eyes peer up at Kei, innocence seemingly dripping out of them and the lights from behind Kei sparkling in Yamaguchi’s eyes. It renders Kei speechless for a second, a grimace at the unexpected expression. Kei clears his throat. “And if we find who has been involved with it, then we can contact them to find out any more information.” 

Yamaguchi leans up, and cracks his knuckles . “Then we better get to work then.” He picks up a file and scans it before putting it down and looking at Kei, blankly. “How do you break down a spell?”

Kei leans forward and grabs the file from Yamaguchi’s hand. He leans in closer, so that he’s close enough to murmur. “So you basically look at a combination of words and try to find something similar in any of the references. If we don’t find something for the characters, we also have the database and the internet…” he pauses, looking at Yamaguchi with doubt. “You…you know what the internet is right?”

Yamaguchi levels him with a look. “Tsukki, of course I know what the internet is. I am not that old.” 

This makes Kei smile, rolling his eyes as he scooches over to be next Yamaguchi rather than across. “You know you are probably the oldest person on Earth, right? Logically, that makes you pretty old.”  

“Is that so?” Yamaguchi retorts, before pausing. It’s long enough that Kei assumes the conversation is over and is about to go back to scanning the documents, before Yamaguchi grabs one of his shoulders and pulls him to be face-to-face. “Well if I am so old, why do I not have any wrinkles?” Yamaguchi smirks, his face smug with triumph. 

Sitting down, he’s only a couple inches shorter than Kei, but it was enough to make him have to peer up at him. His ever so dark brown eyes catch Kei off guard, instantly freezing him into a paralysis. It’s as if his body is submerged into amber, forever to be frozen in one position. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He’s so close Kei can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. It had never occurred to Kei that he would be warm, but on second thought, it makes perfect sense. He spent his whole day under the rays of the sun, albeit inside a painting. It would be assumed that he would have a warmth that felt like it could freeze people. Was that a normal thing to think? Kei didn’t know. 

He’s so close that Kei can take in all of the little details that he hadn’t been able to before. The glittering lights from outside of the window twinkle on his skin. Yamaguchi has a scar on his lip. He has closed piercings on his ears. His irises have some green in them. Kei hadn’t even heard of people from that time having green eyes. 

He’s so close, he can smell char. He can smell the same burning scent he had smelt the day they had first met. It already seemed so long ago, but Kei thinks he can recognize that scent in his sleep. 

They sit like that for a moment, Kei’s ability to breathe slowly coming back to him. Yamaguchi’s expression has now changed to curiosity, his eyebrows scrunched in question and his mouth slightly agape. “Helloooo,” he drawls, his eyes wide. “Earth to Tsukki!”

Kei flinches and blinks, staring blankly at Yamaguchi, every inch of skin now erupting with embarrassed heat. He clears his throat and looks back at the file, before resuming, as if nothing changed. “A-anyway. It takes some time to break down codes like this, so we better get started.” 

From his peripheral vision, Kei can see Yamaguchi nod, before picking up two files and leaning against the wall. He does the same, mirroring Yamaguchi in an effort to calm down his rapidly beating heart. He can feel every thump throughout his body, everything around him seems to be amplified. 

What the hell is going on? What the fuck was that? Kei can’t help but think, rubbing the sweaty palms of his hands along his pant legs. He starts scanning the pages of the words, looking for any mention of the words in the spell, but it feels like nothing he is reading is being absorbed. He was reading the words but not understanding them. This has never happened before. Kei tries to center himself, closing his eyes and breathing in and out. He opens his eyes, and looks at the page, the words finally clicking together to create thoughts. Kei releases a sigh and begins to analyze everything. 

They do this for hours, both of them in a comfortable silence. Every now and again, Yamaguchi would tap Kei’s shoulder excitedly, seemingly thinking that he had figured it out, before visibly deflating when Kei pointed out why it wouldn't work. 

At some point, Yamaguchi stands up, stretching and contorting his limbs in a way that is almost hypnotic to Kei. He starts slowly walking around, wrapping his kimono around his chest. He hugs himself for a moment, before turning to face Kei, who was currently trying to laser focus on a manuscript and take notes. 

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi starts, holding back a laugh when Kei flinches, his concentration broken. Yamaguchi almost felt bad for speaking. “Do you have some other clothes I can wear? I am feeling quite cold.”

Kei’s face twists. “You feel cold?”

Yamaguchi looks at him with a deflated expression. “Of course I feel cold. I am a human, not some sort of zombie.” 

Kei’s eyes widened further at this. "You know…what zombies are?”

Letting out an exasperated laugh, Yamaguchi lazers Kei down with a glare. “Yes, I know what zombies are. I read some stories when I was a child. Now please, give me a hoodie or something.”

Kei stares at him for a second, thoughts floating around his head. He lets out a small smirk, and starts slowly speaking. “You..you know what hoodies are? Aren’t you too old for that?” 

He maintains a normal face for a moment, instantly breaking when he sees Yamaguchi’s heated expression. He starts chuckling, his laughs increasing when Yamaguchi starts furiously walking towards him. 

“You are not funny! Do you know that?! How dare you question my ability to know stuff!” Yamaguchi fumes, leaning over and softly smacking Kei on the shoulders. Kei reaches out and starts waving his hands. 

“I-I am s-sorry! It was a joke! A-a j-joke!” Kei tries to say, his laughs breaking his words, while also actively blocking all of Yamaguchi’s attempts to attack. As he continues to evade Yamaguchis’s jabs, he can slowly hear Yamaguchi start to break, his fuming words morphing into fluttery attacks with no venom. Kei can’t remember the last time he has laughed this much. People usually didn’t receive Kei’s jokes with the humor they were intended with. Kei never minded though, no matter what people said. He didn’t. 

Yamaguchi is still laughing, the little smacks he had been airing out coming to a pause. He gives one last nudge of Kei’s shoulder, before he stands up completely straight. He attempts to walk his little spot on the floor, when his kimono is caught underneath Kei’s foot, yanking him back. He is about to fall completely, when Kei instinctively reaches up and grabs his waist, Yamaguchi holding on to the wall, almost caging Kei in. Kei looks up at Yamaguchi, surprise etched all over his features. 

The same thundering heartbeat comes back, the impact making Kei feel like he’s burning up. The same burning smell seems to intoxicate Kei once more, his head feeling a bit loopy. He can feel the tips of Yamaguchi’s long hair tickling his face. It is like the world fades out, his brain lasering on Yamaguchi’s face. A faint flush starts taking over Yamaguchi’s cheekbones, his jaw slowly starting to drop. Kei’s brain starts to feel like mush, his mind losing the ability to activate any of his senses. 

They only break this little haze when Kei feels a warmth spread among the room.

The sun. 

Yamaguchi feels it as well, the man quickly regaining his balance and standing up straight, looking every other direction than Kei. Kei gets up quickly, never really understanding what to do when this happens. What was he supposed to say? Was this as common as saying goodbye to his coworkers? Did he wave? Did he smile? 

“I guess I will take that hoodie tomorrow then, huh?” Yamaguchi lightly teases, the orbs of light already starting to paint him away. Kei only nods, watching Yamaguchi fade away, the bright sunrise behind him taking his place.

As Kei stares at the previously occupied space, thoughts fly around his mind. How did it feel like it was always ripping something away? Why did it make the pangs of his heart always ache just a little more? Why was he beginning to find a hatred for the starting ray of sunlight that shone every morning? 

Kei looked around their little workspace, various papers with different tabs in different locations all over the floor in front of the painting. As he kneels down, sorting all of the documents into their different piles, he can feel the remaining warmth that Yamaguchi left on one, his unnatural warmth leaving its print. He looks up at the painting, blankly staring at the face that was directly in front of him a mere seconds ago. He gathers up all of his folders and starts walking to the exhibit door, ready to go home and promptly pass out. 

Kei ignores the tug that continues to pull on his chest as he walks. One that he knows, but doesn’t acknowledge, is dragging him right to the painting. 

 ☆☆☆

Kei once heard that in order to create a habit, you needed to do an action for 21 days straight. By that point, your body makes it a routine. Though Kei doesn’t realize it, it feels like his body had been waiting for Yamaguchi, everything related to him instantly becoming a part of Kei’s exclusive routine. From when he woke up in the morning, to the breakfast he ate, it all seemed to rotate around the man. 

Over the next few weeks, it became his standard practice to wake up late, do a skincare routine, take the noon train, enter the office, clock-in, attempt to communicate with Bokuto over lunch because the others were working, analyze more documents about Isobe and Yamaguchi, eat dinner, frantically clean up his materials, lock-up, gather up materials for analyzing, sneak into the exhibit, spend hours with Yamaguchi looking over the documents, say bye to Yamaguchi, before finally sneaking out, taking the train, and passing out. 

They are laying on the floor, in the middle of trying to analyze the spell for the nth time, when Yamaguchi lets out a deep sigh, flopping the file he was holding on the floor, whipping himself up. 

“AGHHHH I can’t take it anymore! We have been doing this for far too long!” he groans, looking out of the window and stretching his arms above his head. He has begun to wear clothes that weren’t his kimono, Kei bringing and storing them in his office. He’s currently wearing some flowy pants that Nishinoya had “gifted” him, and one of Kei’s black long-sleeves, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

From his position, Kei could see Yamaguchi’s defined back muscles, the fabric stretching and molding against every fiber. With every motion, Kei could see the dynamic muscles change, different ones activating with different actions. It was not a surprise that Yamaguchi would be extremely muscular, the man having to go through all sorts of martial arts training. It was expected even. 

It was dangerously captivating. 

He catches himself staring when he starts to see Yamaguchi turn around, quickly shoving his face into a random file. 

“Why don’t we go out?” Yamaguchi suggests, his eyes wide with excitement. 

The suggestion catches Kei off guard, though he doesn’t know why. There had really been no reason they hadn’t gone outside yet, the curse being a more pressing matter in both of their minds. It was only a matter of time before Yamaguchi would want to explore beyond every inch of the museum. Maybe there was some part of him who wanted Yamaguchi to remain a secret. Maybe somewhere in his mind he had come to the conclusion that his existence alone would be enough to sustain Yamaguchi. But he knew that was beyond selfish. Who was Kei to stop him? He had absolutely no authority. There was no reason to dissuade him.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he responds, keeping his voice as light as he can. He ignores the bubbling of hesitation in his throat, threatening to override any control he had on the situation. “Kuroo was mentioning a night market in front of the museum. We can go there.” he says, standing up and dusting the cracker crumbs off of his pants. Kei had made the mistake of assuming a 100+ year old man would have a more refined palette than animal crackers and soggy fries, but he had been proved wrong a lot in the past couple of weeks. 

Yamaguchi excitedly springs up, quickly dusting himself off and organizing all of the files in a way that tugged Kei’s heart. Somehow, he had picked up on the way Kei liked to organize things and just did them, like it was second nature. He didn’t like how his heart started to speed up the sight. 

As they walk, Yamaguchi leading the way despite only recently being introduced to the hallways of the museum, he suddenly stops and dramatically turns around, putting his hands on Tsukki’s shoulders with a panicked expression. 

“Wait! Tsukki. What if someone recognizes me?”

Kei scoffs, looking at Yamaguchi with an incredulous look. “How on Earth would someone recognize you?”

“Well, you said the night market is in front of the museum! What if one of your colleagues finds us? Maybe I should wear one of those masks that they give out?” Yamaguchi suggests, his eyes wide. He looked completely convinced with his idea, his expression serious and determined. 

Cute. 

The thought was enough to make Kei blank, his body rushing to catch up to his brain. He vaguely understands that Yamaguchi is awaiting his response and he summons every ounce of composure to nod. 

Yamaguchi erupts into a smile and walks forward, confident in every step as he leads the way to the mask dispenser he was literally introduced to the day before. Kei follows him, his steps feeling like he was walking on air. 

He grabs one of the black masks and puts it on, turning his head back at Kei. He raised his eyebrows in question, as if asking How do I look? 

Kei looked down at him, the power of Yamaguchi’s dark brown eyes somehow being amplified. It was insane the hold he seemed to have on Kei. He didn’t even know if it was possible to have this big of a weakness in regards to a person. 

As calmly as he could, Kei raised a thumbs up, and lightly tapped Yamaguchi on the shoulder, before sliding straight past him towards the museum door, scanning his ID card and pushing the door open in one fell swoop. He looks back at Yamaguchi, the city lights outside shining through the frame and illuminating Yamaguchi’s face. He could have sworn a light blush flushes over Yamaguchi’s cheekbones, and his heart skips a beat. 

He vaguely realizes the lights of the market are red and orange, and he can absently hear the romantic pop music floating from the crowds. Yamaguchi snaps out of it, slightly flinching and prodding his way to the door. 

“Thanks,” he breathed, sliding in front of Tsukki, his shoulder brushing against Kei’s chest. It might have been the chilly weather. It might have been the atmosphere. It might have been the rapid thumping against Kei’s chest. 

But Kei’s breath is taken away by Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi took to the market like a fish in water. From stall to stall, he seemed to glide in between the crowds of people. He would eagerly scan one booth, pointing out interesting things and talking animatedly with the shopkeeper, before bouncing to the next booth. The only reason Kei was even able to catch up to him was that he was taller than the majority of the people in the crowd. He catches up to Yamaguchi for the fifth time before he finally has enough. 

“Yamaguchi, wait!” he calls out, the other man pausing his heavy strides upon hearing his name.  Kei walks up to him and grabs his hand, gently pulling him along as he weaves through the crowd. “This way we don’t separate.”

He holds Yamaguchi’s hand, slotting his own to all of the crevices. It’s incredibly warm, especially considering the cold weather. He’s already got a strong grip, but the warmth makes him squeeze harder. 

It feels nice. 

There’s a chill in the air, the wind cutting against Kei’s cheeks. The sweet music is floating in Kei’s head. The smells of all of the foods are making him reasonably hungry. There were so many small red lanterns, the sight was so wonderful to the eyes. 

Yet, all he could feel was the warmth of Yamaguchi’s hand.

It feels amazing. 

As he leads the way, Kei lands on a small pastry booth. He can smell the sweet croissants and cookies and cakes, and oh what the heck. Kei looks behind him to ask, only to pause. 

Yamaguchi was holding his hand, the lanterns all around him, flushing his tan skin a beautiful shade of pink. His eyes were wandering all around them, taking all of the sights. He was simply walking, as if there was nothing wrong with holding hands. In Kei’s clothes, he pretty much looked like he was from this time period. As if he was someone that had naturally met Kei. No magic. 

It looked like he belonged. 

The familiar pang comes back and Kei has to hold himself back from coughing in shock. It feels like legitimate pain, but Kei knows it isn’t. He knows that it is something that he has been trying to bury, not prepared to deal with its consequences. Something he is trying to convince himself will never happen. Because temporary pain is always better than disappointment. 

Yamaguchi makes eye contact with him, their eyes locking. They are walking slowly, the majority of the crowd simply stepping to the side of them and continuing on their way. It creates a cage of some sort, trapping Kei and Yamaguchi in this odd hypnosis. Kei just wants to stay there, he realizes. 

But he can’t break. Why can’t he break?

Yamaguchi breaks first, looking at the sweets booth. “Tsukki! There are strawberry pastries over there. Those are your favorites, right?” he says, pulling Kei in the direction of the booth. He drags him to the attendant and points at the ones that catch his eyes. Kei is just so flustered at the moment, he shells out a couple of bills, not really understanding what he just bought. He is pulled once again to a nearby bench, where he is promptly handed a small strawberry cake in a cup. 

“I remember you saying that you enjoyed strawberry flavored pastries! Though you do not have the faintest idea how much it took me to get it out of you!” Yamaguchi rambles, digging his spoon into his own strawberry cake. 

Kei eats his cake in a daze and looks up at the sky. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen the sky this dark. In fact, he can’t even remember the last time he had looked at the night sky. It had been so long. When he thought of the sky, all he could even conjure up was images of sunsets and sunrises. 

Yamaguchi laughs by his side. “When I was a child, the sky had a lot more stars!” he giggles, erupting further at Kei’s shocked face. “No, no, I know that they still exist. Do not worry, I excelled at world sciences when I was in school! I was the best in studies among my siblings!” he says with triumph. 

Kei glances at him, noticing the sadness start to sap into his eyes at the mention of his siblings. Oh god. They had never really brought up what happened to Yamaguchi’s family. But Kei knew that in Yamaguchi’s mind, it couldn’t have felt that long since the last time they had met. 

“Do you miss them?” Kei asks, hoping that he wasn’t making a terrible, horrible, awful mistake addressing it. 

Yamaguchi sighs and looks up, staring at his breath floating into the air. “Everyday,” he starts, his voice dripping with a sadness that instantly makes Kei remember the first day they had met. “I was really close with them. I think about them all of the time. When we began to analyze the spell, it reminded me of helping my younger siblings study. My sister never used to sit still and my brother would always stretch his legs out. When we were exploring the museum, it made me think of this one time when I was a child and my parents pretended to lose their memory. I pretended to be a guide of some sort and showed them around. I mean, I was close with everyone in my family, but especially my grandmother. She even knew I liked men.”

Kei freezes. “Excuse me?” he responds. “Could you say that last part one more time?”

Yamaguchi shifts his view of the sky to stare at Kei, his eyes carrying a haze that makes him look hopelessly melancholic. “I like men.” he repeats, honing on every movement Kei makes, as if he was ready to lock up and shut down. 

Kei looks at him for a moment. It wasn’t a major shock. There were many historical accounts of people having feelings for multiple genders. It wasn’t out of the ordinary. In technicality, there was really no reason to feel anything drastic. 

So why did Kei’s heart feel like it was going to burst?

Yamaguchi is still staring at him, seemingly holding his breath in response to Kei’s silence. His expression was changing by the millisecond, becoming more dilapidated by the moment. Kei didn’t like that at all. 

“Great. We have that in common,” Kei answers, simply shrugging his shoulders and giving Yamaguchi a slight smile. Smiling works in these scenarios. He knows that for a fact. Yamaguchi stares at him, his mouth agape, before erupting into a radiant smile, a small laugh releasing in relief. 

Their hands are close, both of them at some point putting down their cakes and having their arms meander close to one another. If Kei could, he could move less than an inch and feel the warmth that he had already begun to crave. Was it something that would help? Would it be worse? He doesn’t know. But he wants to. He feels like he should. He slowly inches his hands toward Yamaguchi’s, trying to not look ridiculous, when a booming voice interrupts them. 

“Tsukki! Hey!” 

Kuroo. 

Kei jarringly turns his head at his name, already planning the various ways he would get revenge for ruining this moment. Kuroo was looking at him all smiley and waving, eagerly pulling along a smaller man behind him.  He was holding a comically large amount of night market snacks, carrying everything in one arm while he used the other to hold the other man's hand. 

“I never expected to see you here! Especially this late at night…with someone else?” he begins loudly, before teetering off at the end of the sentence. His face starts to morph into a shocked expression, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Next to him, the man rolls his eyes at Kuroo’s antics, before stepping forward and reaching out his hand. 

“Ignore him. He’s being stupid,” he deadpans, side eyeing the Kuroo who is currently intensely peering at Yamaguchi. “I’m Kenma, Kuro’s boyfriend.” 

Kei stands up and shakes his hand. “Don’t worry I am used to it. I’m Tsukishima Kei.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Yamaguchi whip his head at his name. 

A spark of recognition flashes through Kenma’s face. “Ah, you’re the Tsukishima I’ve been hearing about. I saw your exhibit on the Lost Prince. Nice work.” 

Kuroo seems to sober up at this, turning to face Kei and Kenma, yet still glancing at Yamaguchi every so often. “Yep! Tsukki was super helpful for this one. He’s always working so hard, but always leaves so early. I’m surprised you’re still awake. It’s almost sunrise! So it’s really surprising you’re here man!”

Kei ignores the direct jab at his lack of sociability. “Is this always here?” he asks, gesturing to the night market. “I don’t really remember it being a thing.”

Kuroo nods, giving him a satisfactory smirk. “Well it’s like a monthly thing. It’s like the day before every moon cycle? Before the moon disappears…ugh Kenma what’s it called.” 

Kenma continues looking at his phone, simply adding with a plain voice. “It’s the New Moon Night Market. It’s always the last day before the moon disappears for a week.” Kei can feel Yamaguchi tense up next to him, and as the words sink in, he realizes why. 

The painting was activated by moonlight. So no moon for a week, meant no Yamaguchi for a week. 

Blood rushes through Kei’s head, the realization throwing him for a loop. How had he not come to this realization before this moment? He had always thought these sorts of things through. Why had this not crossed his mind before? 

Kuroo continues speaking, unaware of the panic that is rushing through both of the people in front of him. “Anyway, it’s good you’re finally getting out! There’s only a week of this left, so just hang in there!” he chittered, flashing him a wide smile, one that was meant to give him some sort of reassurance. 

Doubt shoots across Kei’s mind. “What? What’s happening in a week?” 

Kuroo’s eyebrows furrow with confusion, looking at Kei like he had just grown another head. “Huh? The Lost Prince exhibit closes in a week. That’s so weird, you usually remember the closing date of an exhibit better than anyone.” Kei can feel Yamaguchi physically stop breathing, all of these realizations crashing down at once. 

The materials and the painting would get shifted to the next museum when the exhibit closes down. There was a week until the painting got shipped out. A week without Yamaguchi. They only had one week to figure this out. 

Faintly realizing that Kuroo and Kenma were still very much in front of him, Kei slowly nods. “I- I guess it just slipped my mind.” 

Kuroo is about to say something else when he is pulled by Kenma, who gives him a pointed look. He looks at him, then Kei and Yamaguchi for a moment before gasping in realization. He lightly chuckles. “Well, I’ll see you later Tsukki! Bring your friend to the exhibit before it leaves,” he says, while continuing to take long looks at Yamaguchi. Even as they walk away from the pair, Kei can hear Kuroo’s voice go, ‘ Kenma, I swear! I’ve seen that guy somewhere before!’

Next to him, Yamaguchi is silent. He looked like he was in a daze, his eyes losing the spark they had a mere moment ago as he stared at nothing. He only breathes slowly, the air from his breath floating up into the sky. Kei could only stare at him. The realizations were weighing down on their minds, both of them not really understanding what to do. Yamaguchi stands up and looks down at Kei.

“Can we go now?” he asks, his voice small. He is not making direct eye contact with Kei, rather looking at the hands that they were holding moments after. The crowds have dissipated now, the hour eagerly approaching the time most people start getting ready for work. There was no need to hold each other’s hands. 

So they walk back to the museum silently, the heat immediately feeling too warm as they step inside. They return to the exhibit room, the crumbs and files still in the same place that they had left them. Both of them stand there. Was this really goodbye? Was this the last time they would ever see each other? Kei wanted to know more. Though it hurt, he wanted to feel more of those damned pangs through his chest. 

Though he doesn’t know why, Kei pulls out his phone and types the moon phases of the week. There would be no moon for…6 days. That could work. Kei would work hard. That could work. 

“Wait. Wait, Yamaguchi look. It’s only 6 days. We can still try,” he urges, vigorously tapping Yamaguchi’s shoulder, and holding the phone out in front of him. The man slowly turns to him and looks at the phone, his eyes scanning the page. 

But there’s no excitement, when he looks up at Kei, his eyes showing a hopelessness that Kei had never seen in his life. 

“Tsukki. Do not worry too much. I have become used to this,” he laments, the look in his eyes making Kei’s heart ache. 

“What…what do you mean?” Kei asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Yamaguchi rips the mask off and glares at Kei, tears starting to well up in his eyes. Kei feels his heart just burst. 

“I mean, give up! Just give up!” Yamaguchi screams, tears fully flowing down his cheeks. “I do not want to feel any more hope when there is no possibility of succeeding! We have been looking at these papers for so long and we have found nothing! I do not want to feel any more hope! Just let me be alone! Just quit it!” he yells, glaring at Kei and his face painted with a scowl. 

A rush of anger overwhelms Kei. “How can you say that! How the hell do you expect me to leave you alone?! You are a person, Yamaguchi! You can’t just decide that you are inconsequential enough to make me give up! You can’t make me quit! ”

Yamaguchi is about to refute, taking in a huge breath and preparing to scream, when he pauses and looks at Kei. His eyes are wide and wandering, as if he had just had an epiphany. Kei simply stares at him, the complete whiplash from the argument rendering him silent. 

“Quit…” he whispers, before immediately bending down, going through the many piles of files and information before landing on the one he wants. He scans the information before rushing up to Kei. “Quit! Maria!”

Kei looks down at him, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Maria? She was your grandmother’s caretaker right?” 

Yamaguchi nods, his eyes slowly regaining light as he speaks. “Yes! They had always been so close to one another, that she probably found out about the magic! She was supposed to be in the house with my grandmother, but I remember not seeing her at all! And look,” he says, holding up the forensic file of the house. “They only ever found my grandma, my parents, and my siblings.”

Kei’s eyes dawn with realization. “They never found her.”

Yamaguchi's eyes sparkled. “Exactly! She probably knew about the attack! That is why she did not show up that day!” 

Kei could feel the warmth of the sun start to warm up his body. The painting started to glow. He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he steps in front of Yamaguchi, blocking him from the sun. He just needed a few more seconds. Just a few. 

“So if I find Maria, I can find out what the magic is,” Kei completes, looking down at Yamaguchi. There is urgency in his eyes, constantly switching between looking up at Kei and the increasingly vivid sunrise. Kei holds him by the shoulders, effectively stopping Yamaguchi from going back and forth. “I will find Maria,” he declares, hoping that it reaches the very core of Yamaguchi’s doubt. “And I will break you from this loop.” 

Yamaguchi smiles at him, the outline of him already starting to fade and orb into the painting. Letting out a wet laugh, he surges forward, wrapping Kei in a tight embrace. It catches Kei off guard, and he’s frozen, his arms hovering over Yamaguchi’s waist. 

“I know you will,” Yamaguchi hums, already pulling away, his arms still tightly gripping Kei’s waist. “I will see you in a week,” he says, looking up at Kei with a radiant smile. 

Kei gives him a small grin. “Yes, you will.” 

As Yamaguchi fades out, he squeezes Kei one more time, his touch remaining moments after. Kei looks out into the sunset, before sighing and bending down to pick up all of the files. Despite the heaviness in his arms and the fuzziness in his brain, determination was flowing through his veins. 

He was going to find Maria. 

 ☆☆☆

The moment after Yamaguchi leaves that morning, Kei falls into researching. And every moment that he is not researching, he feels like he is in a trance, simply whittling the moments before he can continue researching. 

Yet, despite his determination, Maria didn’t seem like she wanted to be found. 

He analyzed every single file he had access to, reading every single shitty thesis about the incident for a detail he might have missed. Anything for a mention of Maria. Anything.

Nothing. 

It didn’t help that Yamaguchi wasn’t there. He had left his traces all over Kei’s office. His dinosaurs had been turned to face each other. His armchair had Yamaguchi’s signature wood scent lingering on it. His secret snack drawer now looked incredibly dilapidated. 

At the moment, he had the file on his face attempting to fucking absorb the information into his brain in an effort to go through anything he hadn’t found before. He’s on the fifth day of searching, attempting to look up and analyze the entire recorded history of Isobe, when Kuroo pops his head into his office. 

“Woah, Tsukki!” he exclaims, an annoying grin on his face. “You look rough man! What the heck have you been doing?” 

He hasn’t been sleeping, that's for sure. 

“I’m trying to find this one person that I saw an account for,” he wearily replies. “It was the caretaker for the dowager queen. She never showed up in the count for the deceased, but I can’t find her name in any of the staff records.”

Kuroo hums and peers over his desk, looking at the countless files all over the surface. “That’s odd. What was her name?

Kei rubs his eyes, trying to massage the drowsiness out. “Maria.”

Kuroo hums again. His hands are in his pockets and he’s swaying side to side. “Could it be her Christian name?” he suggests casually. “This was well into the time where there were Christian families. Isobe was quite a religiously diverse kingdom.” 

Kei pauses for a moment before frantically pulling out a file. He scanned down the list of staff members. 

Fuse Izumi -- informal caretaker to the dowager queen. Never accounted for post-massacre.

It had been staring in front of him the whole time. Kei stays still for a second, digesting this new information, staring directly at his armchair. Yamaguchi had been sitting there a week ago, laughing at some comic book he had found in the gift shop.  

Kei misses Yamaguchi. He misses the little tidbits that he would leave. He misses his warmth. He misses everything about him. How can he miss someone so much? 

“Hello? Tsukishima? Tsukiiiiiiii” Kuroo coos, waving his hand in front of his face. 

“You’re right,” Kei admits, shaking his head and putting it in his hands. “How could I not think of that? It was so obvious.” 

Kuroo leans up, his hands shaking back and forth at the change of tone. “Woah, woah, woah. Tsukki what’s up? What’s wrong?”

Usually, Kei would deflect his issues. He wouldn’t address them. He would just thug it out until his problem would go away. He would ignore the part of him that was hurting in order to convince himself he didn’t care. But he was tired. He was at his brink. 

“I- I don’t know. I really…I really want to figure this out. But I keep on missing things that seem so obvious.” Kei admits, looking at his hands while he fidgets with his fingers. 

Kuroo hums again, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. “Well. I think that’s always been your strength.” Kei looks up at this, making eye contact with a very smug looking Kuroo. “You have always had this ingrained responsibility for your job - one that’s really commendable. You treat every exhibit like it’s your own story to tell. But sometimes, you get in your own head, and you convince yourself to hold back.” Kuroo starts to lean away from his desk, tapping it on his way out of the door. “Don’t psych yourself out. This is what you were made to do. Just figure out what is drawing you to this story and let that motivate you. The rest of the details will lock in before you know it.” 

He walks out of the door, leaving Kei to ruminate with his words. “What is drawing me to this story?” 

Was it because he was curious? Maybe. 

Was it because he wanted to solve the mystery? Possibly. 

Was it because of Yamaguchi? Obviously. 

But by this point, Kei knew it was much more than that. Somewhere along the way, he had begun caring a lot more. He had started putting his 100% into stuff. He no longer felt the dissonance that came with trying. Maybe he had always wanted to feel this, to want to excel at something and do his best to get there, but had stopped himself from reaching that point. 

He wanted this. 

And when he thinks of what spurred this change, all he can summon is bright smiles and soft, deep brown eyes. Yamaguchi had altered him at the core. He had gone through so much and was constantly living in a loop of people’s nightmares, but he had remained resilient.

He was so bright and warm, despite losing the sun. 

Kei looks at the file, a hot resolve flowing through his veins. He had done this countless times, tracking names down to their precise location. 

And after five hours of concentrated, painstakingly precise, research, he had found traces of a Fuse family that matched the specifications that Maria would have had to match. Kei takes the address for the last known member and searches it up. 

Maria’s Home for Magic. 

Oh yeah. This was it. Kei hit the maps for the location. 

12 hours from him. The same place that Isobe would have existed all those years ago. 

Kei looks at the clock. If he started now, he could drive half-way, stay the night, wake up in the morning, drive the rest, find the shop, ask Maria how to break the spell, and be back in time for Yamaguchi to come out. This was perfect. 

He grabs the file and some stuff and runs to Kuroo’s office. 

“Kuroo! Please, I don’t have time to explain, but can I please borrow the museum car?” Kei pleads, trying to not let the adrenaline take over him. 

Kuroo looks at him smugly, not an inch of shock on his face as he reaches into the drawer to grab a set of keys, tossing it to him. “Drive safe!” 

Kei shoots him a quick smile before running out, starting the car, and driving. He was so close. He was so close. 

As the scenery starts to fade from the urban nature of Sendai to a rural area, Kei can feel his blood pumping throughout his brain. He would finally be able to see Yamaguchi. The past week has felt like hell. It had felt as if he had been alive, but he hadn’t been living. He didn’t know why the thought of Yamaguchi made him smile or why he wanted time to stop when Yamaguchi was around. Yamaguchi just seemed to add so much more to his life. 

As the sun sets, he can’t help but feel a twinge of excitement. It seemed like he had developed some sort of Pavlovian Response, the thought of a sunset brewing feelings of anticipation in his mind. He had gotten so used to Yamaguchi spawning at sunsets, that he now associated them with him. Yamaguchi occupied his head and the drive passed incredibly quickly. He had never driven more than an hour at a stretch, the power of adrenaline pushing him beyond what he thought he was capable of. 

By the time he reaches a halfway point, it is beyond night time. The sky looked like it had been painted black, sprinkles of stars splattered all over. It looked amazing. Though something in the back of his brain told Kei that it would have been better if Yamaguchi was there. Yamaguchi had the ability to always make things better than they seemed. 

He checked into a random hotel and dredged up to his room. Falling on his bed, he looks at the small analog clock, on the side of his bed, a scary 1:56 am staring at him. 

Sleep doesn’t come as easy as Kei wants it to. His brain is completely fried with adrenaline that never seemed to crash. And when he finally fell asleep, he would dream about beautiful scarred skin and the flowyness of a kimono, the woody smell that had followed him from the beginning surrounding him like a blanket. 

Morning comes and Kei can barely contain himself. He goes through the motions of a morning routine, showering and eating food like a mad man. As he puts in the address of the shop, he feels like he is flying. 

Maria’s Home for Magic is a very quaint shop, both sides surrounded by gigantic buildings. He opens the door and is immediately hit with a smell of incense. The whole front room looked hazy, the smoke from said incense clogging up the air. There were a variety of gemstones and charms lining every inch of the wall, with various statues placed every other inch. 

“Can I help you?” a melodious voice asks. Kei turns to be face to face with a young woman, her hair blonde and in a ponytail. She was wearing a long light-pink dress that flowed down to the floor, intricate lines of sparkly tulle running up and down it.

Kei lets out a dry cough. He had been expecting to see some old lady. “I- I’m looking for Maria.” 

The woman raises her eyebrow, an unimpressed look on her face as she stares at Kei. “Why are you looking for her?” 

“I have this spell,” Kei starts, his voice a lot more stable. “I need to know what breaks it.” 

The woman nods and goes over to the counter and takes out a sheet of paper. “Write it down here.” 

Kei walks over and writes down the spell. He had memorized it by heart at this point, hours and hours of re-reading paying off. The woman picks up the spell and initially scans it before her eyes widen and she looks at Kei, a confused look from before. 

“Wh-where did you get this?” she asks, her voice wavering.

Kei’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“This,” she starts, looking back and forth from Kei to the sheet of paper. “My grandmother told me about this spell.” 

Kei’s expression changes. “Your grandmother…she was Maria wasn’t she?” 

The woman nods, before bending down and heaving up a gigantic, worn-out book, the top of it tattered and the binding moments away from snapping. As she opens, yellowed, thin pages fall out, ancient script littering every possible space. Kei recognized those pages. 

“Those pages…they’re from the Dowager Queen’s spellbook,” he says, looking at the detailing of the script. Each page had the queen’s emblem, soft pink ink showing the title of the spell and dark blank ink detailing each spell. He had scanned the ones found at the site a billion times, hoping to find some inkling of a source. 

The woman looks at him in shock. “Okay, I am really sorry, but how do you know all of this? My grandmother said she was the only person who knew this,” the woman asks, fear starting to bubble up in her voice. 

Kei looks up at her and analyzes her face. Could he trust her? He knew nothing about magic, while she clearly knew so much. Did he really have a choice, though? He was so, so close. He had to. 

“Did you know that your grandmother was the caretaker of the Dowager?” he asks, hoping to scope out how much she really knows. When she nods, he doesn’t know whether to feel relief or fear. “Then do you know about the massacre?”

The woman’s face blanches, her expression becoming one of regret. “Yes,” she says, solemnly. 

Kei crosses his arms, hoping that the gesture would get the truth out. “Tell me what you know.” 

The woman starts looking from side to side, as if trying to escape. She clearly would rather do anything than tell him any information. Kei looks at his watch. If he wanted to make it back in time, he needed to leave soon. He sighs, and unfolds his arms. 

“I’m sorry, but I am desperate,” he confesses, looking at the woman pleadingly. “You must know this, but- there-” he doesn’t even know how to explain the situation. “There…there is someone stuck in a painting. The prince. The Dowager’s Grandson. He’s stuck in the painting and he can only come out at night.” 

The woman looks at him with wide eyes, disbelief present all over the place. Kei lets out a breath. He needed to go. He wanted to be with Yamaguchi. He needed to go. 

“I know it is hard to believe, but you must believe it to some extent! Otherwise you wouldn’t own this store!” he huffs, gesturing at the store. “When the massacre happened, the dowager sealed him in a painting to save him, and every day there is moonlight, he comes out, and when the sunrise, he gets absorbed back into the painting. The painting was found in a secret room of the palace, one that only family members and,” he pauses, looking the woman straight in the eyes. “Your grandmother knew about.” 

The woman was fidgeting with her fingers. Hesitation was still seeping into her features. Kei didn’t have time for this. 

“He’s been alone for more than a century,” he fumes, his voice quieter, yet still enough for her to look at him with concern. “He gets the gift of living forever, but he has to live it alone. And…I get that it’s hard to believe that someone that used to be a prince from a century ago would be someone you could connect with. But please trust me,” he pauses, looking at the woman, pleading that he was getting through to her. “He is one of the most amazing people I have met in my life. He is caring and kind in a way that makes you feel so loved. He is so full of warmth you can’t help but want to draw yourself to him. I have only known him for a month, but he is undoubtedly someone I want to have in my life. And if I can’t figure out how to get him out of the loop, I’ll lose him forever. And the thought of that happening... is enough to make me feel like my life is ending.”  

He is slightly panting by this point. The woman is looking at him, tears welling in her eyes.  She turns around and grabs a tissue, handing it to him. When he looks at her in confusion, she gestures to his cheeks. He reaches up and feels his face, only to feel moisture. 

He had been crying.

“You must really love him,” she whispers. Kei’s eyes widen with her words. 

Love?

That word felt right. Everything seemed to click in place. The realization rushes him like a gust of wind. It feels like his horizons start to expand, light surrounding him. He swears he can hear the songs from the night market start to play, Yamaguchi’s warmth surrounding him like an embrace. It was undeniable. 

He loved Yamaguchi. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah I do.”

The woman clasps her hands together, a bright smile on her face. “Then you’re in luck,” she starts, turning the pages before she lands on the one she wants. “My grandmother wanted the Dowager’s magic,” she finally admits, an ashamed look taking over her face as she stares at the page. “She told me everything a few years ago before she died. Somehow, she had spawned rumors in the villagers mind, and it was bad enough for them to want to kill the whole family. She left the kingdom so that no one would suspect her, and then years later, she had returned to the room to get the spell book.” The woman sighs, her head drooping more and more. “Her ultimate goal was to become immortal. She tried for years. Eventually, I thought she stopped. But recently, I found out that she had sent tips to excavators to find the painting before she died. I guess she thought if the painting got revealed, somehow it would resurrect her.” 

The woman looks at Kei, her expression changing from one of shame to one of excitement. “I never knew how to atone for what she did. But I hope this helps a little bit,” she whispers as she turns the book and slides it towards Kei, who leans over to read the page. 

Confession of Life

Use this spell to extend a lifetime in a time of need. After chanting the incantation, the words that correspond to the cure will manifest in your mind. 

• Start with, “You will live. For those who have fallen around you, you will live. You will live. You will live.”

• The words corresponding to the recipient will appear in your mind. 

• Think of the vessel of containment. 

• End with the same words as the beginning. 

To break the spell: The recipient must receive a confession of true love. 

Kei feels his eyes widen at the last line. He looks up at the woman, who smirks and nods. 

“I told you. It’s a good thing that you love him. Go tell him.” 

Before she can even finish, Kei is out the door. 

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The moment Tadashi wakes up, he automatically ends up looking for Tsukki.

It had become something that he didn’t think he even had control over, the searching becoming automatic. Some days, Tsukki would be standing there with a pile of files, his glasses askew. Other days, he would have pulled some “bean bags” into the room, already armed with some warm drinks. 

Tadashi thought he looked great in every scenario. 

He breathes in, taking in the non-painting air. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to describe being absorbed into the painting. It felt a bit like falling asleep and being warmed up at the same time. 

But this week was too long. In the past, Tadashi wouldn’t realize that even occurred. There was really nothing to look forward to, so it felt exactly like regular sleep. 

This time was different, however. His mind couldn’t wait to see Tsukki again. Tadashi remembers this being the most restless he has ever been. In all of his years of being absorbed into that god-forsaken painting, this had been the absolute worst. 

Tadashi remembers the first day he met Tsukki, originally thinking he had been some greedy robber. But there was something different about him. He had been so honest with his intentions. So open to help just for the sake of helping. Tadashi couldn’t help but accept his offer to assist. 

In his time being tied to the painting, he often found himself falling into dark spaces, wondering if he should even continue. But it was different with Tsukki. He brought a spark to Tadashi’s life, one that made him excited for the next day.  

He found himself enjoying waking up, excited to learn more about Tsukki. To experience the joy of learning everything about someone. Though he could be rather prissy, Tadashi could see through Kei. He could see someone that was always nervous to feel disappointed, but never to try. Because when he did commit something, he put his 100% in. 

And slowly, Tadashi began to fall. There were so many nights where Tadashi would pretend to read the files given to him, only to stare at Tsukki in the moonlight. His golden eyes would scan the pages with ease, and his eyebrow would crease, concentration seeping through every movement. The moonlight would hit his hair at just the right angle and he would look like an angel. He would sometimes show up with ridiculously heavy bags under his eyes, simply citing research as the reasoning. He had been doing all of that for him. For Tadashi. 

Tadashi couldn’t help but fall. 

So when he wakes up on the final night, the first night in over a week that he gets to see Tsukki, and possibly their last day of seeing each other, his heart breaks to see no one. He waits for a few hours, hoping that this was a simple delay, that something was wrong. But as the hours tick by, and the moon shifts its position across the night sky, a pit falls in Tadashi’s heart. 

He should have really expected it. How was Tsukki supposed to find someone from decades ago? Tadashi had gone and gotten himself hopeful. In a few hours, he would be moved from this place and into a completely new one. 

A place that held no memories. 

A place that held no warmth. 

A place that held no Tsukki. 

The tears start falling before he can help it. How could he have gotten so careless? He looks at the window, simply standing there as he watches the moon start to dip under the cityscape, his heart burning with pain. 

This was it. He was going to leave. Without ever saying goodbye.

Tadashi is sniffling, his eyes clouded with tears, when he hears a quick succession of heavy footsteps outside the room, followed by the door slamming open. Tadashi turns his head at the sound, his hands instantly going to the hilt of his katana before he realizes who it is. 

Tsukki. 

Panting and sweaty, he looks like a complete wreck, his button down all wrinkled and his hair all frazzled. The eyebags seem to be heavier than ever and he looks like he is about to collapse. He looks around for a moment, his eyes wide and scared before landing on Tadashi. Tsukki sighs a large breath of relief, his expression relaxing. 

Tadashi couldn’t be any happier. And angrier. 

“You absolute asshole! How could you just leave me alone? I was so scare-” he screams, tears making his voice wobbly, only to be cut off by Tsukki bounding over and enveloping him in quite possibly the tightest hugs he had ever received. 

It’s insane the way Tadashi melts into his arms. As if he had been waiting for them his whole life. 

From his side, he can begin to feel the sun’s warmth, the morning rays slowly starting to come up. The sides of his body start to heat up, getting ready to be absorbed back into the painting. 

Panic instantly sits in, and he starts to grip Tsukki’s shirt harder. Tadashi can feel his eyes start to water and his breath start to cease. He doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay. He can’t go back. He can’t be alone again. He wants to live with Tsukki. Living isn’t living if he wasn’t with Tsukki. 

“I love you.” 

The words are so clear, Tadashi thinks he’s hallucinating. He pulls away from Tsukki, only to see the absolute resolution on his face. He was looking at Tadashi like he had just laid the stars in the sky. 

“I love you,” he repeats, this time so that Yamaguchi can see his mouth. “I love you so much, I think my brain didn’t even think it was love. It was so much, my chest would hurt Yamaguchi. I loved you so much, it hurt to even think about it. You are one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I would have been stuck to myself if it wasn’t for you. I would have remained the same person I was, always scared to feel disappointed. You brought so much light and joy into my world, how could I not?” he professed, his expression lined with distraught. “The thought of losing you made me go mad. I don’t think I would have handled you being gone. I honestly planned on following you wherever you went.”

Tadashi can feel his heart beating, the thumps getting more intense as Tsukki continues to talk. As he tries to look at him, a beam of light blinds him, the reflection from the sun hitting him in his eyes. What the hell? “But…” Tsukki starts, a small teasing tone in his voice, as he lifts up Tadashi’s hand. “I won’t have to do that after all.”

The sun was out, but his hand was still solid. 

Tadashi freezes for a moment, processing the fact that he was still here despite the moon being long gone. He looks up at Kei, only to see his endeared face looking right back at him, the sunrise turning his hair beautiful shades of pink and orange. The curse was gone. He was still here.

“You broke it!” Tadashi exclaims, before shooting himself at Tsukki, the latter letting out a surprised breath upon catching it. “You broke the loop! I can’t believe this!” he bursts, before pulling back and looking up at Tsukki. “But how?”

A bright red flush spreads across Tsukki’s face. “It…it was my confession.” 

Tadashi tilts his head in confusion. “Huh?”

Tsukki looks to the side, avoiding eye contact with Tadashi as he stares. “To break the spell. You needed a confession of true love…and…well… I love you. So it all worked out,” he admits, before looking back at Tadashi with a more serious expression, yet still looking from side to side. “But listen Yamaguchi, you don’t have to reciprocate. I promise. I was never looking for you to pay me back in any way, so don’t feel obligated to-”

“I love you, too.” 

Tsukki stops rambling, his eyes fully focused on Tadashi. Tadashi leans up and smoothly places a kiss on his cheek, giggling at how Kei remains frozen but turns a bright shade of pink at the advance. 

“I love you, too.” he repeats, hugging Tsukki softly, his gaze on the window. He hadn’t been able to see this much of a sunrise in years. He squeezes Tsukki harder at the realization. Tsukki had been able to accomplish this. He had done this for him. “Thank you. For everything.” he whispers, his voice loud enough to create a small bubble for both of them. As Tsukki reciprocates the hug, Tadashi can’t help but melt into the embrace. He was finally free to live. Tadashi pulls back, gazing at Kei, praying that he is able to see the sincerity on his face. “There are so many things I want to experience with you. More than just reading boring files.” 

Tsukki chuckles at this, his laugh deep and rich and his golden eyes crinkling. He nods appeasingly, before pulling Tadashi’s head down, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, and then pulling him back into the embrace. 

“Don’t worry Yamaguchi. We have all of the time in the world.”