Archive of Our Own

There is a common misconception that apples, among other fruits, require a frost in order to sweeten. In actuality, freezing temperatures can, and often do more harm to a tree that outweighs any potential good compared to planting trees after the last sign of frost. 

Miya Osamu is of the opinion that schooling is much like growing apples, and should not begin in Autumn.

His cloak billows in the chilly wind, rendering it almost useless as he makes his way through the crowds. Groups of students linger in the city, both unwilling and excited to head to the academy. Vendors line both sides of the street in an attempt to hawk their wares, eager to lighten the bulging coin purses of new, and possibly naive, students. Osamu is already technically running late since his travel took longer than expected, so he’s forced to go against his nature and ignore the grilled meat, fresh baked bread, glistening pastries… it’s enough to make his mouth water. 

He bites his tongue, resisting the urge to stop. He’s light on time and coin after his journey, and he’ll have plenty of both to spend once he’s settled. 

Among the various sounds of the market, one voice pierces through the crowd. 

“You there!” 

It’s shrill, aggravatingly so, and Osamu hesitates. 

“Right, you, professor! Come ‘ere!” 

As soon as his steps faltered, Osamu knew he lost. He could just keep walking, but it wouldn’t be so bad to take a look at one stall. Only one, though. 

He walks over, approaching the vendor. Although, now that he’s actually looking, he’s not sure what is even being sold. The stall is lined with bird cages of various shapes and sizes, each seemingly stuffed with a bouquet of flowers. None of them seem like they have birds in them, but it’s an odd choice of decor. Osamu’s curiosity is getting the better of him. 

“Thought I’d get your attention, you scholars stand out much more than you think.” The vendor grins, wringing his hands together.

Yes, perhaps that’s because Osamu is an adult man. There’s no time for him to be smarmy though, as the vendor lifts up one of the smaller birdcages to show it off. It’s only then that Osamu realizes what he’s looking at. 

“This, my good sir, is a genuine pixie.”

Osamu shudders, but it’s probably caused by his useless cloak.

He’s not stupid. Though the pixies in this region are probably different, he’s still encountered them before. They’re cute little things, usually found in gardens or forests, and they love causing trouble. This man is probably trying to take advantage of clueless students who want something they can command to cast spells, when in actuality they’re buying something far more interested in hiding their keys. 

The pixie in the cage is perched on a leaf, practically unmoving. She doesn’t even beat her wings, so she seems rather miserable. Like a bird in a too-small cage. 

Certainly no fairy. Those are few and far between, and even Osamu’s heard tale that they use their fae magic to live among humans. One wouldn’t be caught and kept in a cage like this. 

“And these pixies are happy like this?”

The man’s flashy grin melts into something akin to a sneer. “Of course they are, I wouldn’t sell an unhappy pixie, now would I?”

Osamu looks at the listless creature in the cage, then up at the vendor incredulously. 

“They feel safe in the cages, and the flowers keep their mood up, alright? Those stay fresh indefinitely too, what with their pixie magic and all.”

Indefinitely, probably not. Maybe for a month or two, pixies don’t have a huge reservoir of magic. Either way, Osamu doesn’t have time for the sales pitch nor does he want to spend his remaining coin on something like this, but he finds himself reaching for his coin purse all the same. He tosses his payment on the counter haphazardly, and takes his pixie cage. 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.” The vendor’s lips pull into a shit eating grin. 

Osamu doesn’t return the sentiment and heads for the academy. 

The academy courtyard is large, and mercifully empty. The path cuts through a well manicured garden, with ponds and plenty of flower bushes. Osamu hurries across the grass, kneeling down by a rose bush after checking to make sure no one else is around. He nestles the cage in the rose bush as gently as he can, then opens the little door. “There, you can escape now.”

He lingers for a second, watching as the pixie looks at the opening to the cage, then up at Osamu, then as she doesn’t move a centimeter. He doesn’t have all day to sit here and make sure that she gets out of the cage, but he also doesn’t want to just leave her here for someone else to find. Osamu reaches his hand into the cage.

“I won’t hurt you.” He gently coaxes, gesturing with his hand. “Sit on my hand.” 

The pixie sits still for a moment longer, then hesitantly begins to move off her leaf and onto his hand. Osamu slowly takes her out of the cage, careful not to bump her against any of the bars, then holds her up to one of the branches. Once she climbs on, he stands up and dusts himself off. “There’s going to be a lot of people coming by here today, so be careful.”

He’s not sure why he feels compelled to warn her, he’s not even sure she can comprehend what he’s saying. It makes him feel better, though. 

Osamu leaves the cage behind and hurries to the entrance of the academy, and his little pixie escapade leaves his mind. He has more important things to deal with right now.

—

Headmaster Washijou is a lot faster on his feet than Osamu would have ever predicted. He struggles to keep up with what the old man is saying as he’s led down hallways and past classrooms, some with their doors open and some without. Occasionally another professor will poke their head out to watch.

Eventually, and mercifully, they stop. Washijo produces a ring of keys, and locates the one to unlock the door with pinpoint accuracy. It’s impressive. 

“This will be your classroom.” He unlocks it and leads Osamu inside. It’s average sides, big enough to comfortably host his classes.

More interesting are the ceiling height windows. They allow so much natural light that he probably won’t even have to supplement during the day. 

“You are responsible for maintaining this room, here are your keys. Your personal belongings will be taken to your quarters as soon as they arrive.”

He briefly entertains asking what happens if he were to lose it, but instead wordlessly pockets the key. 

“Additionally, you are responsible for the maintenance of the greenhouse. It’s that building there.” Washijo points out one of the windows, to a large glass building. “You may use the laboratory and conservatory as you see fit, although they haven’t been properly maintained since the last horticulture professor left.” 

Interesting. That aspect of the job was never communicated to him, but it sounds interesting enough that Osamu isn't annoyed. Yet.

“Thank you, Headmaster Washijo.” He nods, accepting the key. 

“Now, I’m behind on work thanks to you showing up late, so I have to go.” He huffs, practically stomping out of the room. 

Once he’s alone, Osamu examines the greenhouse key more closely. He didn’t know what to expect, but a conservatory was never mentioned. Without a proper horticulture professor until now, it’ll be interesting to see if it’s a complete disaster or somewhat salvageable.

However, his classroom is more important for now. There’s a layer of dust on just about every surface, so Osamu sets his things down, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work. 

—

By the time Osamu is finished, it’s evening. The sun is starting to set, bathing his classroom in a dusty orange light. He is thoroughly exhausted at this point, and looking forward to going straight to bed after dinner.

He wipes his brow and looks out the window at the conservatory. Even though the walls are made of glass, it’s hard to tell what state the interior is in. He’s eager to check it out, but it’s already getting late. It’ll still be there in the morning, though. 

He’s about to grab his things and leave when he hears something behind him. 

Rather, someone. There’s an unmistakable sound of whispering, although it sounds more like someone is trying to get his attention. Osamu turns around to catch two people conspicuously peering into his classroom.

He raises an eyebrow.

“He finally spotted us.” One of them, a tall man with fiery red hair, covers his mouth with his hand to speak to his companion, although he’s whispering loud enough for Osamu to hear anyways. 

The other one, a shorter, black haired man, stares at him intensely. How long have they been there, for…?

“Hello.” He waves hesitantly.

“We’ve been found out, Fukunaga. We should make a run for it.”

“You saw him earlier, this track star could easily catch us.” 

Osamu has the distinct feeling that he’s being made fun of. 

The red-haired one steps into the classroom, quickly followed by the other one. “We heard someone got chewed out by Washijo and wanted to see the damage for ourselves. Looks like he left you in one piece, though.”

“How boring.” Fukunaga adds.

“Next time I’ll let him get a hit in.” He retorts with a flat affect.

“Next time…!” The red-haired one chokes back a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. “Looks like you already know what you’re in for.” 

“So, who are you?” Osamu finally asks, placing his hands on his hips. 

“Fukunaga Shouhei, culinary professor.” 

“And I’m Tendou Satori, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I teach pastry. Washijo must have stuck you with us since our classrooms are some of the only ones with sinks.” Tendou cups his mouth with his hand as if to whisper, but speaks at a normal volume anyways. “We’ll happily dispose of any extra produce you have lying around, too.” 

“Miya Osamu. It’ll be at least six months before I can harvest any usable produce, so don’t get yer hopes up.” Unless the conservatory already has produce growing, but they would already be using that if that was the case. 

Both of them avert their gazes.

He fails to hold back a laugh. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s no big deal if you can’t get us fresh grown stuff, we’ll survive somehow.” Fukunaga adds, sounding 

“I didn’t say I couldn’t,” Osamu corrects, “It just might take a while. Lemme know if you have any requests and I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Ooh, how reliable.” Tendou and Fukunaga say in unison.

“Anyways,” Tendou quickly adds, “Why don’t you come eat with us? We’ll be seeing each other a lot over the next year so we might as well be friendly. Isn’t that right, Fukunaga?” 

Fukunaga gives him a thumbs up.

“Sure, I’ll join you.” Especially since he still has no idea how to navigate the academy. 

“Atta boy!” Tendou laughs, slapping Osamu on the back. 

—

It’s not until a few nights later that Osamu has a chance to check out the conservatory. 

With his work complete for the day, Osamu dons his cloak and heads out into the cold. There’s a path leading directly to the entrance of the conservatory, and the glass building itself seems well maintained. The frosted windows are clean, the iron framework is sharp with little corrosion or damage. He unlocks the door and steps inside. 

Rather than the dried up and half dead garden he was expecting, Osamu is greeted by a warm, verdant paradise. Every plant is lush, bearing colorful flowers or shiny, ripe fruit. The paths are tidy, the climate is moderate and not overly humid, even the water in the ponds and streams is clear. There’s a low thrum of life, and a butterfly flutters in front of him and lands on a large white flower. 

What on earth…?

Osamu wanders down the path, trying to take in everything he’s seeing. Every plant seems healthy at a glance, the soil looks well tended to. Headmaster Washijou would have no reason to lie about the state of the conservatory. Maybe he wrongly assumed it would be in disarray, but why wouldn’t they be using the produce that’s already growing? It seems like every tree is bursting with ripe fruit, there are patches of culinary and medicinal herbs, and various flowers dotted throughout. Without a horticulturist, it’s possible they were afraid of overharvesting and leaving the space bare. 

And yet, there’s something off about it all. Why is every tree full of unblemished fruit? Even in the most ideal conditions, it’s not likely that such a large variety of plants would all be in season at the exact same time, and virtually untouched. There aren’t even fallen or rotting fruits on the ground. It’s too perfect, too clean. 

Osamu continues down the path, passing a door that leads into the laboratory area. It, too, seems like it’s been maintained, although the utilitarian interior looks like it’s seen some action in recent history. It’s in a good condition for him to use for his classes right away, and there are shelves filled with decent looking tools. 

When he accepted the job, he didn’t expect this academy to have such a top of the line facility. Maybe he’s dreaming. 

Osamu continues down the path, passing under a pergola lush with shiny, plump grapes to a flower garden, and beyond that is a set of stairs leading to the elevated walkways. He takes interest in the flowers though. Many of them are wildflowers, and it smells intensely of nectar. He leans in to inspect one of the flowers, when something suddenly shoots out from the plant and flies past his head. He takes a step back in surprise. It seemed bigger and faster than anything he would normally find inside of a greenhouse, so he turns to see if he can spot it. 

He nearly trips over himself when he comes face to face with a pixie. 

It’s not just a pixie, though. 

“You’re…” The pixie in the birdcage. “How did you get here?” He asks, knowing she can’t respond. 

He hears footsteps behind him, and whips around. His heart is racing.

There, coming down from the steps, is a man. 

He stops, and stares at Osamu in surprise when he finally catches sight of him. Osamu stares right back. Neither of them say anything. Osamu has no idea how to react.

“...Hello.” He settles on a greeting eventually. 

The other man blinks, coming out of his shock. It’s another long moment. 

“Excuse me.” He says, then turns around and heads back up the stairs.

“Oh, wait-” Osamu calls out to him, but doesn’t give chase. The man doesn’t stop and disappears from view. 

…What was that about?

Osamu turns back to the little pixie, but she’s gone too. He doesn’t sense her anywhere, so maybe she went with that man. Or flew away in fright. An odd feeling settles in his stomach, unnerving him. He feels rooted in his spot, but pinches the back of his hand anyways. He’s definitely not dreaming, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hallucinated whoever that was. 

Unable to shake the feeling, Osamu decides to leave. He locks the door behind him, but lingers on the steps. He runs a hand through his hair, trying and failing to process what just happened. There’s no point in thinking about it too hard for now, though. Osamu glances up towards the second floor as he walks back to his residence. He will figure out what the deal with the conservatory is, no matter how long it takes. 

—

Despite how hard he tries to remove it from his mind, Osamu is incapable of ignoring his encounter. It doesn’t help that it’s visible from his classroom.Every time he walks past the windows, it’s there in the corner of his eye and all its oddities rush to the forefront of his mind. The few times he’s returned have been fruitless. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the pixie or that weird guy since. 

Osamu even tried asking Washijou about it at one point, or if anyone else had a key to the building. Washijou hemmed and hawed about it for a moment, and never really answered the question. Osamu doubts that he forgot, so there must be something up with it. He didn’t press the issue, though. 

The most obvious solution is that guy is another professor and has access to the conservatory, but didn’t want to be caught. Or, he lives in the city and has been routinely breaking and entering without a trace in order to use the conservatory. That would explain why he ran away from Osamu. And maybe the pixie found her way there since she could sense the plant life. 

And yet, every time he runs through a possible solution in his mind, he feels unsatisfied. 

“You seem pretty out of it, Samu-Samu.” Tendou comments at breakfast, setting his tray down at their shared table. “It’s only been a week, no need to run yourself ragged.” 

What’s with that nickname…? “I’m fine, it’s just…” I saw a strange man in the conservatory and now he won’t leave my mind? He’s not admitting that. “I’m always really busy at the start of a new term.”

“You’re so dedicated to your work.” Tendou marvels, as if Osamu hasn’t seen him testing recipes in his classroom after hours.

“Like a samu-rai.” Fukunaga adds between bites, then starts laughing to himself. 

Osamu and Tendou both look at him slowly. 

“Pfft…” Tendou snorts, then starts laughing. “Samu-rai? What’s up with that?”

It must be infectious, because Osamu ends up laughing too.

Eventually they settle down, and Osamu resumes eating. “I’m having my students start planting in the next few weeks, if there’s something specific you want then let me know.”

“Ooh, grow me some strawberries, ‘kay? And lemon.”

“I could use some herbs, rosemary, basil, thyme…” Fukunaga starts listing them off, counting on his fingers. “Carrots, celery, and onion would be useful too."

“I’d use those herbs too. Don’t you use lemon a lot, Fukunaga? You probably want garlic bulbs as well.” 

“Woah, wait.” Osamu holds his hands to interrupt them before they get carried away. “Just, write me a list, or something. I’m not going to be able to grow lemons any time soon, but I can look in the conservatory to see if they’re already in them.” 

“Oho? Are we allowed to use conservatory produce now?” Tendou looks at Osamu with a glint in his eye, which makes Osamu pause.

“Were you not before?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Not in my time here,” Tendou hums, tapping his chin as he recalls. “Although maybe it was different when there was an active horticulturist.” 

“Did they ever tell you why?” 

“Nope, just that it’s off limits.” 

He should get permission before harvesting anything, then, but it still strikes him as odd. With so much prime produce, why weren’t they utilizing it…?

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

—

It’s evening when Osamu heads back to the conservatory. Dried leaves crunch underfoot, and it feels like it’ll start snowing any minute. He shivers, pulling his cloak tighter. 

He hesitates when he reaches the door, the odd feeling returning. He’s felt it every time he’s returned to the conservatory, but he brushes it aside. It feels quieter when he enters, the thrum of life isn’t as pronounced. Osamu walks down the path, past the lab, and under the pergola, but stops when he hears the quiet sound of someone speaking. It’s too faint for him to make out what they’re saying, but it’s definitely a voice. He peers out from behind the vines, nearly gasping when he sees the guy from before. 

Then, he pauses, and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Get a hold of yourself. 

This is probably someone who works at the academy, and Osamu was bound to run into him eventually. Treating him like some mythical creature is weird. Then again, so is hiding among some vines and watching him. He watches for a moment longer as the man continues speaking. He doesn’t hear any other voices, so Osamu assumes he’s alone and steps out from the vines. 

He quickly realizes that the man is not alone, and instead in the presence of about five or so pixies. Including the one Osamu freed. 

The man’s shoulders jolt, and he turns to look at Osamu. The pixies don’t immediately scatter, which is probably a good sign, but they do hide behind the man. 

“Oh.” He says, sounding a bit stupid. “Hello.”

The man doesn’t say anything in response.

“I didn’t realize there were so many pixies in here.” He comments, attempting to make conversation.

“Right. Well, excuse me.” He says, before turning to walk back up the stairs. 

That annoys Osamu. No way has he been bothered by this guy for this long and he thinks he can just walk away again? “Look, I don’t mean to bug you. I don’t really care what yer doin’ in here, I just wanna know who you are.” 

This makes the man stop, and he turns to look at Osamu with a quizzical expression. 

Now that he’s getting a good look at him, he’s sort of… good looking. 

Not the time for that.

He clears his throat. “I’m the new horticulture professor, Osamu Miya. I was given the conservatory key and told I need to take care of it. As far as I know, I’m the only person with access to this place, and you keep acting suspicious, so forgive me for bothering you for just a few minutes.”

The other man stares at him with a disquieting intensity. His eyes are sharp and dark, and it feels like he can look straight through Osamu. He stands firm, though, not willing to dedicate so much of his mental retail to this man. The other man scoffs faintly, and averts his gaze.

“I’m… also a professor. History. Suna Rintarou.” He finally divulges. 

Osamu relaxes. “Okay then, Suna. Nice to meet you. I’ll try not to bother you when I’m working.”

“Thanks for warning me.” 

Now it feels a bit awkward. Osamu looks away, distracting himself by inspecting the flowers. He didn’t think this far ahead. 

“So…” He starts, looking at Suna again. “Are you the person that’s been taking care of this place?”

“Something like that.” Suna shrugs.

There’s another question answered. Osamu has so many more, but Suna seems reluctant to even be in his presence, let alone answer his questions about soil composition and how he’s been maintaining the ambient temperature. More importantly, Osamu struggles to comprehend how a single person could possibly maintain the entire conservatory in this state. He glances at the pixies fluttering nearby, wondering if they’re the reason why. 

“It’s really amazing here, but I’ll leave you alone for now. Sorry for confronting you.” He apologizes lightheartedly, before heading out. 

“See you later, Miya.” 

—

It’s not long before they fall into a routine. 

Osamu heads to the conservatory after dinner most nights. Sometimes he’s preparing lessons for the next day, other times he’s grading papers. Every time, Suna is there. 

He’s never quite sure what Suna is doing, but he tries not to dwell on that too much. He’s too busy with his own work to wonder whether gazing out a window for an hour is a waste of time. He’s definitely not jealous that Suna seems to have way more free time than him, even though they’re both professors. 

Regardless, he’s become a comforting presence to have around. Even when he’s watching Osamu work. He’s used to having someone around practically at all times, so it’s nice not to be alone even if they don’t interact much. 

They’re cordial, at least. 

On the other hand, the pixies still avoid him. They don’t hide as soon as Osamu comes around, but they do still avoid him.

Except the one he rescued. Whenever he’s working, she’s nearby. Sometimes on a branch, sometimes on the edge of his notebook. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, she wants to watch. It’s kind of cute. 

He’s working in the lab testing soil samples when the door to the conservatory opens. 

Suna walks in, with the little pixie sitting in his hand. He pauses when Osamu looks over at him, and a flash of embarrassment crosses his face. “She wouldn’t stop flying around the door, so I wanted to let her in.”

“Oh.” How cute… “That’s fine.” 

The pixie flies over to his work table, perching herself on it to watch him work. 

“It’s not very interesting.” He warns her, but she probably doesn’t understand him. 

“I’ll leave the door open so she can come and go freely, if she wants.” Suna offers, and Osamu nods. 

He doesn’t leave though, and lingers by the door frame. That’s unexpected. 

“I don’t come in here often.” He explains, and Osamu nods again.

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” He offers gently, as if saying it any other way might scare Suna off. 

He doesn’t budge at first, and then almost reluctantly makes his way over to Osamu. His gaze falls to the table, and the pile of dirt on it, and raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Osamu stares at him. Is Suna actually interested in what he’s doing? His heart skips a beat for some reason. 

Suna stares back awkwardly. 

Right. He asked a question.

“I’m, uh, testing soil. From the conservatory.” He explains after remembering how to speak.

“Testing it for what?” He takes a pinch of dirt and rubs it between his fingers. Osamu finds it oddly captivating, the way his fingers move. 

“I… don’t know yet.” He admits, and Suna gives him a weird look. 

“What are you testing for?”

“Well I’m just- doing the basics.” He explains, looking at his workstation. Various testing components are strewn about haphazardly. “The conservatory is incredibly unique and defies explanation, so I’m trying to figure out why it’s the way it is. I don’t know where else to begin except what everything in there grows out of.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, haven’t you been maintaining it?” He questions Suna right back, giving him a quizzical look. “Haven’t you noticed how weird it is? Even the most well tended-to and preserved plant will usually have something wrong with it, even just minor cosmetic blemishes. But everything here is… perfect. I want to find out why.”

Suna hesitates, still looking at the dirt. Osamu’s attention goes to it as well. It would be great if somehow the dirt held all the secrets, or some magical compound that made it so everything that grows in it comes out perfect. He knows it won’t, though. Even if it did, how would his methods even indicate it? 

“How will you know you’ve found what you’re looking for?”

“No clue.” He shrugs, meeting his gaze.

It’s only now that he realizes how close they are. A lot closer than he initially thought. Suna has a floral, sweet smell, almost like nectar. It’s nice. It belatedly occurs to Osamu that he should probably take a step back, but he doesn’t. He holds Suna’s gaze, feeling like he’s being studied. 

“I guess…” His voice drops into a whisper. “I’ll just know.” 

Suna’s lips pull into a slight smirk. “Fascinating.” 

Osamu flicks his eyes back up to Suna’s, and he teases him right back.. “It almost sounds like you’re not actually interested in my methods.”

“I think testing dirt for mysterious substances is very interesting.” 

“In that case…” He grabs a container off the desk, not breaking eye contact with Suna, and presses it into his hand. “Go get me some more.” 

He teasingly rolls his eyes, but takes the container. “Fine, only to prove I’m telling the truth.” 

Suna lingers for a second, as if he doesn’t want to break the closeness between them. Eventually he pulls away, leaving the room to get Osamu more dirt.

Once he’s gone, Osamu braces himself against the table and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. That was dangerous. He’s a grown man, though. Getting this bent out of shape over… whatever that was, is childish. Suna is teasing him, that much is obvious, but that went beyond teasing. No, what they were doing was toeing the line into something else entirely, and Osamu does his best to bury that thought. 

…Suna does smell nice, though.

—

“I saw a pixie when we were in the lab last time, I swear.”

“No way, they wouldn’t be in there. Even if they were, they wouldn’t let you see them.”

“I swear! It was floating by the window.”

Osamu firmly bonks one of the whispering students on the head with the spine of his textbook. “The conservatory is not full of pixies,” he lies, “But even if it were, they’re not dangerous. Now, please rejoin the class and read the passage aloud.”

“I heard that fae creatures try to steal your soul if you get close to them. They make everything all sugary sweet to lure you in, and once you trust them, they trap you in their fairy dimension and make you their servant.” Another one chimes in.

“Imaginative.” Osamu commends. “If not inaccurate. This is a horticulture class, so let's focus on the lesson. The reading, please.” 

As the student begins to read the passage, Osamu pretends to follow along in his own book. He’d rather his students not encounter any of the pixies in the conservatory if that’s how they’re going to speak about them. Maybe Suna can help him.

—

Osamu snips some herb sprigs, tying them together with a piece of twine. “You know,” He starts, glancing at Suna who’s sitting nearby. “My students were talking about the pixies today. I think they may have seen them flying around. I’m a little worried about them being found out.” 

“Worried how?” He sits up from where he’s relaxing, eyeing Osamu curiously. 

“I don’t want them traipsing around here hunting for pixies. People don’t seem to like fae much, so I don’t want my students causing problems.” Even if it’s as simple as trying to catch them, Osamu would rather not have to deal with that. 

Suna hums softly, picking up one of the herb bundles. “They hide when other people come around, but maybe they’re so used to you that when you’re hosting classes, they think it’s safe.”

That… makes a surprising amount of sense. “I wish I could tell them to not come around unless I’m with you.” He sighs. Why does this have to be so complicated? He clips a sprig of rosemary, plucking the purple flowers off before adding it to the pile.

“I think it’ll be okay, I wouldn’t worry too much.” Suna sets the bundle back down on the parchment.

He has a point, there’s nothing he can do about it at this point. “Why do people dislike fae so much around here, anyways?” 

“They view them as tricksters, beings that disguise themselves as humans in order to take advantage of them. Some people think they steal souls, others think they whisk humans away to become servants. Pixies aren’t really capable of doing that, so they’re mostly seen as mischievous pests. Fairies, though…” Suna’s gaze drops a little, then he looks at Osamu. “People say they have the ability to ensnare hearts. They use their extensive magic to give you whatever you want, then they eat your essence.” 

Osamu feels his chest tighten.

“Scared?”

“Over fairies? No.” He scoffs. “It’s not like humans behave any different, they can accomplish all of that without any magic.” 

“Sounds like you’re the perfect target.” Suna teases, stretching his arms above his head. “It’s mostly just legends, though. Stories to tell kids so they don’t go out into the woods at night.”

“Right.” He nods, resuming his harvest. It’s the strangest thing. He doesn’t lend too much credence to it, but why did it gain so much credence? And why in this region specifically? There weren’t stories like this in his hometown. 

He cannot add researching that to his plate.

—

A few weeks later, there’s a casual knock on his classroom door after classes end for the day. He’s grown accustomed to the greeting, and turns to face Fukunaga. “Where’s Tendou?”

“Class ran long, he’ll be on his way.” Fukunaga holds out a container with a single bite of food. “Taste this.” 

Osamu does as he’s told, chewing thoughtfully. It has the texture of roasted chicken with crispy skin in a silky sauce, but all he tastes is rosemary. If he really ruminates on it, he can pick out a subtle hint of lemon and the fattiness of butter, but the predominant flavor is overwhelmingly rosemary. Unpleasantly so.

“That’s… not very good.”

“This was made with the rosemary you brought me.” Fukunaga explains. “We ran out of our stock, so I had some of my students use the stuff you harvested. Everyone who used it had their dish come out like this. Everyone who didn’t, made normal tasting dishes.” 

Osamu pauses, studying Fukunaga’s face. He’s not joking. Osamu just tasted it for himself, anyway, so why would he? The rosemary completely overpowers everything else, even the flavor of the chicken itself. “I don’t know how that’s possible.” 

At that moment, Tendou bursts into the classroom, holding a box in the air. “Hey! I brought something-! Oho?” He stops when he reads the room. “What’s going on?”

“Tendou, have you used any of the produce I’ve given you?” Osamu asks. 

“...Heh.” He smirks, then holds out the box again. “Behold, Tendou Satori’s miracle cakes! Well, technically my students. But that’s not important!” He opens the box, removing one of them. It’s a small, cutely decorated petit four with a flower decoration on top. 

Osamu takes it and eats half in one bite. The cake is soft and buttery, the chocolate glaze is rich, and the jam filling is… intensely delicious. The other components are doing enough heavy lifting to not be completely overpowered by the jam, but the fruit flavor is very much at the forefront and lingers in his mouth. Fukunaga eats one as well, and the expression on his face says he’s having a similar experience. 

Osamu swallows. “Wow.” 

“Right, right? My students are the best.” Tendou laughs, then eyes Osamu with a cat-like smirk. “Why do you ask?” 

Fukunaga holds out the chicken to Tendou, who takes a bite. His expression immediately falls flat. “Oh, I see.” 

“I guess, be cautious what produce you use from the conservatory. It’ll depend on the recipe, but it’d be better to use outside ingredients for the time being.” He feels a little guilty that some of the students had their recipes ruined by his herbs, but nothing can be done about that.

“No worries, I’ve got plenty of thyme.” Fukunaga says, making the OK sign with his hand before laughing to himself.

—

None of Osamu’s tests have bore fruit. Whatever is causing the plants to behave this way isn’t something that can be measured scientifically, at least not in a way that’s known to him. It’s frustrating to no end. 

He clips off a sprig of rosemary to inspect it. There’s nothing visually abnormal, although it has a stronger scent than he would have expected. 

“Are you doing this?” He asks the little pixie perched on his book, but she doesn’t answer. 

“Doing what?” He hears a voice behind him, and turns to greet Suna.

“Using her pixie magic to affect the plants.” It’s not too far-fetched, but there’s no way to test for that. Even with all of the pixies in the conservatory, they wouldn’t have enough magic together to have such consistent and long term growth patterns. He sighs. 

Suna leans against the wall next to him, picking up another herb cutting to inspect. “I doubt it. Not all of them have natural magic, anyways.”

Suna’s right, of course, but Osamu keeps that to himself. Osamu reaches for his notebook to write down his observations, and the little pixie flies off. He notes the details of each herb clipping even though this research will ultimately be inconclusive. All he learned was what he already knew: Everything growing in the conservatory is abnormally intense in flavor.

“Why did you decide to study horticulture?” Suna asks after a moment, rotating the basil herb between his fingers. 

Osamu doesn’t even have to think about it. “Because I like it.” He holds out his hand for the basil. “I need that.” 

Suna gives it to him. “Is that the only reason?”

He fills out the entry for the basil, notating its shape, size, color, and aroma, before placing it back down. “My hometown is in the countryside and one of our biggest sources of income is rice. It’s the base of a lot of food we eat, but as a kid I didn’t really care about the process of growing it. It was just something that happened. I had a friend, someone I really looked up to, who was from a farming family. One year, when we were older, he told me that he’s afraid that when the harvest comes around, there won’t be any viable rice.” 

Osamu sets his pen down, picking up the branch of rosemary again. He brings it closer to his face, inspecting the fine details. The velvety branch, the evergreen leaves, the tiny purple flowers blooming on the ends. “I realized that there was a monumental amount of effort that went into growing it year after year, and there was always a chance that you could end up with nothing. I wanted to do something where I could make sure that no matter what, people would have something to eat. What better way than by making plants that can survive even the harshest environments?” 

He brings the branch away from his face, and looks at Suna again. “Is that a good enough reason?”

Suna is quiet, and the two of them stare at each other for a moment. They do that a lot, but this time it feels a bit more embarrassing. Osamu doesn’t really talk about himself much, but to be met with silence… Admitting all of this makes him feel shy, and he was hoping for a bit more of a reaction.

“That’s…” Suna starts after a moment, then stops to find his words. “It’s a good reason.” He agrees after a moment.

Osamu decides to flip it around on him. “Do you have a reason you like to study history?”

“I just… like it.”

“Oh, so ‘i like it’ is a good enough reason now.” 

Suna shoots him a withering look, and Osamu laughs.

“I don’t actually think you have to have a reason to want to do something. You can just want to do it.” He acquiesces, but Suna looks unconvinced.

Eventually, he elaborates. “It’s a glimpse into the lives I would never experience myself and I can see the whole world from right here.” He looks towards the window with a wistful expression, and continues in a softer voice. “I don’t even have to leave the conservatory to experience it.” 

There’s something unusually heavy about the way Suna adds on the last bit,, but Osamu doesn’t feel like he should pry. “I never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. Everything we do here has a basis in history, too. I rely on existing knowledge to teach and research.” 

“Right.” Suna nods.

Their conversation trails off after that, and Osamu is left wondering about Suna. 

—

The little pixie must have noticed that Osamu has been collecting samples, because the next day, she starts bringing some directly to him. They start small; a single berry, a flower, a leaf of parsley. 

As time passes, they get bigger. 

A branch of currants, a tulip bulb, an entire carrot. He’s not really sure what he’ll do with them, but he doesn’t know how to tell her to stop either. Throwing them out feels wasteful.

Osamu munches on the carrot while reviewing his notebook, which is gradually becoming a catalog of everything in the conservatory. At least this way he doesn’t have to hunt everything down himself.

Eventually she returns with a large, dark fruit. It’s almost the size of her, so she struggles to fly straight while carrying it. Osamu reaches out to meet her halfway, taking the fruit from her. “Thank you.” He nods at her, then inspects it. 

It’s an apple with a deep purple skin. Holding it up to the light reveals a faintly green sheen, but the color is so dark that it doesn’t even seem shiny. A bitter apple, one of the many medicinal plants growing. It’s supposed to have an anti-inflammatory and antimicrobial effect, particularly useful when someone is sick. Osamu was fed it more than once as a child, although usually in a cooked form and mixed with honey and spices. Cooking tempered the bitterness, but even then he would have to force it down. 

His curiosity gets the better of him, and he takes a bite. 

Instantly he coughs the chunk into his hand, the flavor of the apple lingering far longer than he would ever want. It is indescribably acrid, and Osamu worries for a moment that it might even be caustic. He grabs the carrot and eats it all the way to the green in an attempt to get the flavor out of his mouth. 

Even then, it lingers. 

Behind him, there's a laugh. 

He levels a mild glare towards Suna. “What’s so funny.” It doesn’t really land as intended though, because Suna is laughing and Osamu softens. 

“Don’t you know not to accept food from a pixie?” He jokes as he comes over, taking the fruit from Osamu’s hand. 

“You didn’t say anything when I ate that carrot, though.”

“Then it’s already too late, you’ll be bound to them eternally and forced to do their bidding.” Suna teases, lifting the apple to his mouth. 

“Wait, don’t-”

Too late. Suna crunches down on it, and his smirk is gone in a flash. He pauses, briefly, then immediately coughs up the fruit. His face contorts into disgust. “What is that? It tastes like poison!”

“I tried to warn you.” It might as well be poison. Osamu hands him the berry branch the pixie brought him earlier, and he starts popping them into his mouth. “It’s a bitter apple, they’re… bitter, but not usually at that level.”

Suna coughs again. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to consume something like that.” 

They both just did, willingly, but Osamu doesn’t say that out loud. 

He takes the apple back to inspect it. Other than the color, it looks normal. If the flavor is that intense, then the alkaloids in the flesh must also be increased. They should be fine after spitting that bite out, but it’s possible that the fruit itself actually is harmful to eat, negating any medicinal effect. 

His mouth doesn’t feel like it’s lastingly burned, at least. Thank god he didn’t swallow it. 

Why didn’t this occur to him sooner?

“Are you okay?” Suna asks. “You’ve been staring at that for a while now.”

“Oh.” He looks up at him. “It just occurred to me that the food growing in here could be unintentionally poisonous.” 

“What?” Suna’s expression sharpens, and he furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… think about it. Something like this has alkaloids in it that make it taste bitter. If the flavor is intensified, then the alkaloid presence probably is too. That means that eating it could be harmful. That might hold true for every toxic compound. There are plenty of foods we eat that have low levels of toxins, but if those toxins were magnified…” Osamu looks at Suna. “We can’t eat anything from the conservatory anymore.”

Suna stares at him with a complicated expression. “So, everything in here is useless?”

“Unless we can test each individual plant, yes. It’s too risky. Not until I figure out what’s going on.” 

“I see.” Suna seems bothered by that.

"Are you okay?" Osamu asks, putting a hand on his arm.

Suna pulls away after a moment. "I'm fine, I'm just worried that someone might have injested something toxic."

"It'll be fine, no one's been using much of this stuff yet." He tries to soothe him. It's true that he only gave a few things to Fukunaga and Tendou, nothing of which cause an adverse reaction, but he worries too.

—

At breakfast the next morning, Osamu picks at his food. The issues with the conservatory were plaguing him at this point, and he doesn’t know what to do next. What else can he do?

“He’s been pushing that chunk of potato around for five minutes, do you think he’ll notice if I take his toast?” Tendou whispers to Fukunaga. 

Osamu brandishes his fork in Tendou’s direction as a warning. “I’ll notice.”

“You look rough.” Fukunaga adds helpfully.

“I’ve been up late researching.” He rubs the bridge of his nose to punctuate his statement. 

Tendou tears his toast in half. “The conservatory problem? It’s a shame we can’t use that produce anymore, those berries were incredible.” 

Osamu is just as disappointed that he can’t use it, either, but he’d rather not get fired for poisoning a student. “Do either of you know professor Suna Rintarou?” Maybe they know where his classroom is, Osamu wants to ask him 

“Hm… nope. I don’t think we’ve had someone by that name work here.”

Fukunaga shakes his head. “Never heard it.” 

…What? 

“Ohoho?” Tendou leans in, visibly interested. “Is that someone you think was involved with developing the conservatory? Are you trying to get in touch with them?” 

Osamu forgets to respond for a moment, then shakes himself back to reality. “Uh… yes, I think so. I saw his name somewhere while working, and thought maybe he was here recently. I’ll just ask Washijou or see if there’s any record in the library.”

It’s not outside the realm of possibility that neither Tendou nor Fukunaga have encountered him, but it’s very unlikely. The odd feeling–a mixture of uneasiness and uncertainty–returns. 

“At least it’s the weekend.” Tendou sighs wistfully. 

Osamu hurries to finish his breakfast. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

—

Osamu practically runs to the conservatory, fumbling with the key before forcing himself to take a deep breath. He can’t run in there all frantic and demand Suna explain what’s going on. He’ll never get a straight answer that way. 

He opens the door, and walks inside.

Suna is in his usual spot, sitting among the flowers and gazing out the window. He greets Osamu with a slight wave, and he takes a spot next to him.

“You’re here early.”

“So are you.”

Suna breathes out a laugh. “I had nothing better to do.”

“Me neither.” 

He’s only there for a moment when the little pixie makes her appearance, this time with a perfect looking orange. She hands it to Osamu, and he takes it with a nod of thanks. He rolls it around in his hand for a moment, examining the shiny, dappled skin.

“She’s trying to thank you, you know.” Suna comments after a quiet moment. 

Osamu doesn’t look up from his orange. “Thank me for what?” 

“Freeing her.”

He answers so easily that Osamu almost doesn’t even notice at first. The orange in his hand is perfectly round, perfectly even orange. It has a citrus-y aroma when he drags his nail across the flesh.

Finally, Osamu looks at him.. “I never told you about that.” 

Suna’s expression doesn’t change, and he turns to Osamu with a quizzical look. “Didn’t you?” 

“How did you know about that?” He asks, setting the orange aside.

Suna parts his lips, but says nothing. He looks away, and they’re quiet for a long time.

“Suna.”Osamu breaks the silence first, placing his hand on Suna’s arm. “You can tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

They both go silent again. 

“Rin-” He starts, but Suna quickly cuts him off.

“Tonight. Come back tonight, after the sun sets. I’ll tell you everything.” 

“Okay.” Osamu nods, then stands up, and walks away. 

—

It’s an agonizing rest of the day.

Osamu tries to start or finish several things but can’t, because of how worried he is about Rintarou. Everything is starting to come together in his mind. The fruit, the pixies, his behavior, but he needs to hear it from Rintarou’s mouth. 

Of course, then his brain supplies that he might have something entirely different to tell Osamu. Maybe he hates him. Or maybe he really is going to kill him and eat his heart. That wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, though. 

By the time the sun starts to set, Osamu feels sick.. He can’t touch his dinner, much to the immense concern of Tendou and Fukunaga. It was hard to explain to them why he was feeling this way, and even more difficult to come up with a convincing enough lie. 

As soon as the sun dips below the horizon, as soon as the last bits of daylight vanish, Osamu goes back to the conservatory. His stomach is in knots, but he unlocks the door and heads inside. 

Rintarou isn’t in any of his typical spots, but there’s only one place Osamu never went. So, he ascends the stairs.

At the top is a small landing that overlooks the rest of the garden. There, illuminated by moonlight, is Rintarou.

“Rintarou.” He breathes out. He wants to get close, but maintains a respectable distance.

He turns around to face Osamu with an unreadable expression. “You came.”

“Of course, I-”

“I want to show you something.” He interrupts.

“Sure.” Osamu nods encouragingly.

Rintarou nods, and then he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“W-wait-” Osamu protests, but his voice comes out weak. Even though it’s dark, he’s sure his blush is visible.

Rintarou unbuttons it fully, then discards it on the ground.

And Osamu understands everything. 

Protruding from his back is a set of wings, like paper thin stained glass. In the moonlight, they look faintly iridescent.

“You’re a fairy.” He sounds stupid. “You’re the reason that the conservatory is…”

Rintarou nods.

Osamu steps closer to him, taking quick strides. He thought… Osamu didn’t really know what he thought, but this worry for Rintarou, it betrays common sense. He wants to reach out and touch him.

“I thought you were going to tell me something bad.” Osamu breathes out, with a relieved smile.

“I’m… sorry?” Rintarou stutters out, staring at Osamu. 

His hand twitches at his side. “I was scared that you wanted to tell me something else, like you hated me or something. This is… Well, I had a feeling.” He admits. “You weren’t exactly subtle.” 

Rintarou scans his face, going quiet. “I was afraid that you would change your mind about me, or think I was trying to use you.” 

“Even if you were, I’d probably still forgive you.” He smiles softly.

“Can I…” Osamu starts, then second guesses himself. “I want to kiss you.” 

Rintarou nods, going quiet. 

Osamu leans in, and presses their lips together. Rintarou is warm. So warm, almost like a hearth. Osamu moves his hand back into his hair, careful not to push him. 

It’s soft at first, but quickly grows in intensity. Rintarou wraps his arms around Osamu’s waist, hugging him close. He leans in, desperate to be close to him. Osamu would welcome Rintarou absorbing his essence if it means being that much closer to him. 

It feels like eternity by the time they pull away, both breathless. Neither of them pull away, not wanting to leave the other’s embrace. 

Osamu breaks the silence after a second eternity.. “How did you get stuck here?”

Rintarou rests his head on Osamu’s shoulder. “I agreed to live here temporarily to keep the conservatory alive. The old horticulturist asked me to, but it was left alone and forgotten until you came.”

“Why didn’t you ever leave?” 

Rintarou scoffs. “Didn’t you notice? The frame is iron. I can’t touch the keys, and even if you did leave the door unlocked, I could never open it myself.”

It’s so… simple. This whole time, Rintarou was in a cage and just needed someone else to open the door. Osamu feels like an idiot for not seeing it.

“Come with me.” He instructs, pulling back and heading towards the stairs.

“What? Where?” Rintarou follows him anyway.

He quickly leads him back to the entrance, stopping in front of the doors. “I’ll open it for you.”

“...What?” Rintarou asks softly.

“I’ll open the doors for you.” He repeats, then slips his hand out of Rintarou’s. “Trust me. I won’t let you get hurt.” 

He searches the nearby gardens for big enough rocks, then carries them back to the entrance. He opens up the doors fully, placing the rocks on the ground to hold them open. Once they’re stuck open and wide enough for Rintarou to walk through without worrying about brushing up against the frames, he holds out his hand for him. 

Rintarou takes it, and Osamu leads him outside and away from the conservatory. He stops in the grass, still holding onto Rintarou’s hand. 

“Well?”

It’s cold out, and Osamu probably should have let him put his shirt back on. No one should see them at least. It's late and they’re obscured by the conservatory. 

“It’s freezing.” Rintarou says hesitantly, then he smiles. Then, he laughs. 

“Do you want my cloak?” Osamu starts to take it off, but Rintarou shakes his head. 

“I’ll be fine, I want to feel it.” 

Osamu squeezes his hand, grinning like an idiot. 

It’s early spring, so the nights are still cold. Osamu needs to start thinking about what he should plant for the upcoming year. Apples would be nice. Sweet ones. He’d have to wait until after the last frost for the season though, which makes planting unpredictable. 

But right now with Rintarou, he doesn’t mind the cold.