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Sun streams through the cracks in the caravan's wicker cover as he was bumped and jostled as they traveled over the bumpy road. His ponytail swung back and forth, occasionally swatting Nanako in the face as she leaned up against his shoulder using him as a pillow. The summer air carried the scent of warm soil and wildflowers, a stark difference from the battles that were being waged. War was as common today as a pickpocket was in a city. Everywhere you looked— even in those places totted to be a higher echelon were drenched in blood and strife.
It has been so since the Great Leaving.
Haruta hadn’t been born during that cataclysmic event but he’d been told stories by Kenjaku. Mahito told him things too but he discovered after a few too many bad experiences to take what Mahito said with a grain of salt— his stories always devolved into mutilation and eccentrics. Tall yellow spires rose into the sky in jagged lines as the caravan crested the top of a hill. He poked Nanako’s cheek with the tip of his finger, waking the younger girl up and before she could snap at him for doing so, he pointed forward. “We’ve almost made it.”
The kingdom of Kaisen.
The horses pulled to slow stop before the looming walls of the kingdom, golden symbols carved into the milky stone. Soldiers armed with sharp gilded spears and swords strapped to their hips stood in front of open gates, stamping a golden mark on the back of every persons hand who entered the kingdom. The seal of Kaisen— an ancient custom that invoked the law of hospitality. Haruta hopped from the bench seat of the caravan and onto the springy red soil, digging his bare toes into the dirt. As soon as they each got a golden mark they were let into the city with a parting of their bladed spears.
Despite the heavy presence of armed soldiers the city seemed to be in good spirits. It was the prince’s birthday after all. The caravan rolled over the cobblestone slowly trudging towards the palace and Haruta watched with interest as they passed crowds of citizens, drinks in hand and dawning clothes in the color of the sun. Children wove through the crowds giggling and holding streamers of reds and oranges tied to their wrist like trails of fire.
Haruta had traveled across the continent twice over and in every place he’d been the stench of war hung heavy across the world like a shroud of darkness. The Fae had left the world in shambles and the humans were still breaking themselves over the bloody shards they left.
He’d never seen a city so content but if he looked closely he could tell that this place hadn’t been spared from the fate of the rest of the world. While they looked happy he could see the dark shadows that hung underneath their eyes. The overwhelming presence of children and elderly — the young men and women still on the frontlines of the war. It was a strange feeling; that if he looked too closely he’d see cracks in the facade. So he didn’t and let himself be distracted by the smiles and the fires burning on every street, shooting harmless sparks into the sky that formed into dancing dragons.
The palace looms above them, built out of the same stone as the great walls of the kingdom. Tall pillars held up an archway of a carved sun with glittering dragons weaving between the rays. Kenjaku got down from the caravan and handed a letter with a golden seal to the guards who looked at it for a moment before handing it back, gesturing for them to enter. The caravan wheels creaked and the horses pulled to a stop. Kenjaku started barking orders telling Jogo and Hanami to unlatch the trailer attached to the caravan that held all of their instruments. The banquet didn’t start until this afternoon but they had been invited to explore the palace and all its many gardens and gallery rooms. They were requested to wear a pendant that acted as an access key and told the various guards of the palace they were honored guests and could walk freely.
They had been invited personally by the king Daisuke Nanami to perform at his grandson's twenty-fifth name day. The prince hadn’t returned home since he left for the frontlines two years ago or so Kenjaku told him. How the king knew of their group of waylaid fae performers was beyond him but he supposed they’d been performing long before Haruta joined them a few years ago. His bare feet stuck slightly to the smooth tile steps leading to the palace entrance.
Purple wisteria hung from balconies, lush vines dripping with a honey sweet scent. It was still the early morning having sun only rose a few hours ago but people bustled in and out of the palace, toting boxes of wine and decorations. Haruta dodged a group of young maids chasing after a young boy of pink hair and quick feet down the steps. Mimiko giggled at the sight, threading her arm through his as they crossed the threshold into the palace. Haruta had never seen such grandeur in his life— it spoke of a time before the Leaving when the world was lush with beauty and security.
Haruta’s feet squeaked against the stone floor as they walked down the halls of the palace. If the guards felt some type of way about his bare feet staining the pristine floors they didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t like his feet being confined and avoided places with harsh weather that made it impossible to avoid. That's why he preferred coastal kingdoms like Kaisen and Eldara but even so he rarely spent time in one place too long. The visibly human population treated the visibly fae with disdain— the purple marks under his eyes and tapered ears made him a target wherever he went. Even in kingdoms like Kaisen who were more forgiving than most couldn’t avoid descending in war. It’s why he preferred to keep moving and not settle down in any one place.
The bustle of the palace didn’t slow down as they delved deeper and at some point Kenjaku disappeared from the group not that Haruta had noticed until he went to ask a question and he was nowhere to be found. Mahito wandered off next. Haruta thought about following him but the law of hospitality should keep him from misbehaving and he really didn’t want to follow wherever the half fae was skipping off too.
The banquet hall was still being decorated when they entered— the stage they were to be performing on in a few hours was being wreathed in sun-gold flowers but their instruments had been brought in and stacked in their cases on the stage. Mimiko and Nanako bounded up the stage stairs and started twirling, mapping out the stage and how it would fit with their choreography. Eyes briefly looked up from their work but didn’t do anything at their intrusion— those pendants really did work. Haruta hopped on stage and took in the view, humming to himself a tune he’d never put to lyrics. The vantage of being above a crowd always made him giddy with excitement but soon he got bored of just standing there watching the workers and Jogo and Hanami tune their instruments and practice familiar melodies.
Still humming to himself he went off on his own letting his hand trail over the palace walls only removing his touch when he had to weave past someone. Out of the corner of his eye, across an open courtyard he caught the sight of azure flowers hanging over a balcony— lush and the color of the ocean under sunlight. He traced the path up to the balcony and how he might get there. Using one of his miracles he felt the coolness that followed one of his marks disappearing and let his feet follow fate.
He found the balcony after some time of wandering— those flowers would do nicely as an accent to Mahito’s costume. The blue haired fae had still held a grudge after a particular prank Haruta pulled a few weeks ago that ended with Mahito getting blamed for the chaos Haruta created— the Shibuya incident as he fondly called it.
The hallway leading to the balcony was so that he could not see the full length of the balcony until he crossed the threshold, all he could gleam from the end of the hall was an open door leading to dapple shaded flowers winding across the balcony ledge. Moving closer, the scent of the sea wafts through the air, mixing with the scent of flowers and whatever wonderful spices the chefs were cooking with downstairs. A stone arch with cutout filigree covered the balcony but still let the shining morning sun warm the tiled floor.
It was peaceful.
Haruta had never found many peaceful places in the cities he’d traveled through; moments of it but only when the streets were completely crowded but it still felt like the moon was his only company. He found peace in the green flash of a sunset, in a rainbow of color in a clear blue sky— in all the natural little miracles he experienced. It was all the more shocking to realize he had encroached upon someone else’s peace in his venture to smooth over a wrongdoing.
A man was sunbathing with both of his green-sleeved arms draped over his eyes. The sight of it made Haruta’s skin tingle. The stranger's short blond hair haloed out against the floor and his body moved with slow, steady breaths that spoke of a deep sleep. Haruta tiptoed fully out on the balcony and started picking flowers, clipping their stems of the vine with his fingertips.
Once he couldn’t hold much more without damaging the petals he started tracing the shape of the sleeping form in azure blooms. Plucking each blossom and placing them along the long lines of his legs, clad in dark linen trousers. Haruta held his breath as he got precariously close, biting his lip in concentration and follows the tempting expanse of ribs and the wide breadth of his shoulders. The underside of the man’s strong arms were exposed to the sun, marked with the pink of fresh scars— the blue of his veins underneath his pale skin so apparent he could almost see the blood pumping underneath.
He went to pick more blossoms, wondering where this man had been before today. His build spoke of war and so did the scars but many had led other lives before taking up the blade. If he wasn’t sure it would wake the man he would’ve started singing. The melody he’d always hummed but never could put to words was starting to form lyrics. He forced out a slow, giddy breath as he crouched down to place a flower over the curve of his head but a hand reached up to stop him— clear blue eyes peering up at Haruta.
Haruta’s breath hitches at the eye contact but now that he had an active audience Haruta releases his lip trapped between his teeth and smiles. “Hello there,” he flirts, leaning into the grip encompassing his wrist. “I didn’t mean to wake you— I was only trying to encapsulate your image.” The man's brows furrowed like little mountains of confusion, his eyes trailing over his body and over the flowers still held in Haruta’s hand before he released his grip on Haruta’s wrist.
“Do you make a habit of disturbing people when they are clearly taking a nap?”
Haruta places the finishing flower atop the man's crown before replying. “Only when they are as enticing as you I’m afraid,” Haruta proclaims, tilting his head to the side in wistful longing. “I seldom get the opportunity— it’s really quite the miracle I found you here laying in the sun.”
“A miracle?” The man scoffs, still on his back but the arms that were shielding his face were laced behind his head now revealing his handsome face fully. It was truly a miracle of conception to be born with such beauty. Haruta hums, lacing his legs together so he is sitting properly. “I was only trying to pick some flowers for the banquet and I was led to a treasure beyond belief— miracle.”
A breathy laugh escapes the man's lips and a small smile settles in its place after. “You are quite the flatterer, if I didn’t know better I’d think my father sent you to soften me up.”Haruta shakes his head and settles it into the palm of hand and smiles.
“The only one who sent me was Lady Fate herself.”
“You’ve met Fate before then?” the man asks, blue eyes imploring and warm in the sunlight. Haruta could hardly resist pouncing on the man right then and there but one had to be cool about such things. He wiggles his toes underneath his thighs instead and replies as without much thought of what he was saying— if he did he might never say anything at all. “I’m looking into their eyes right now,” Haruta cooed, twirling a lock of his long hair around a pointer finger. “How about it Fate— what do you have in store for me?”
A blank stare is his only response until the man sighs and responds. “You’ve come for the banquet, yes?”
Haruta nods, slightly crestfallen that the man had not continued their little banter. “I was personally invited to perform at the prince's birthday— by the king himself,” he preens, fawning himself with a wave of a hand. “The prince?” the man questions, sitting up and jostling the flowers Haruta so meticulously placed.
“Why are you acting so surprised? I’m a highly sought out commodity,” Haruta assured with a wag of his finger, he might have gone so far as to poke the man in the chest once or twice. Very firm.
“I was only surprised that you had been invited by the king — it's quite an honor,” the man said and now that he was sitting up fully, Haruta had to tilt up his chin just to keep eye contact. “You must be just as important to be invited then,” Haruta prompts but the man just shrugs.
“I’m just a soldier,” he sighs, tilting his chin up to the sun.
“Does a soldier have a name? I’d like to know the name of my latest muse— I’d hate to have nothing to call you when I’m crafting my songs.”
“Does a performer have a name?” The man counters with a raised brow.
“I have many names but I’ll trade you my first if you’d do the same?” Haruta implores with a teasing smirk.
“Kento.”
Pleased by the response, he takes a flower from the ground, placing it in-between a buttonhole of Kento’s lapel for safe keeping and responds in kind. It was at that moment Time decided to impose and stop Haruta from falling any further into infatuation. A boy in a blue uniform trots up to them with the kind of boundless energy that only a child could achieve. “I’ve been looking for you for the last hour,” the boy whines as he plops down next to them, making himself comfortable.
Haruta stiffens, immediately wanting to swat the little brat for interrupting but Kento retorts with the ease of someone who dealt with this before. “I was hiding from you for an hour, that must be why it was so difficult for you, Yuji-kun.”
“You're always like this in the morning.” Air expels from ‘Yuji’ lungs in an audible groan, deflating his body but with another exaggerated breath he turns to face Haruta. “He’s always like this incase you were wondering— never plays with me, always hides from me— tells me ‘Why are you here Yuji-kun? Aren’t you supposed to be studying Yuji-kun? Haven’t you got chores Yuji-kun?”
Kento narrows his eyes at him and crosses his arm over his chest. “Haven’t you got chores to do Yuji-kun?” Ignoring Kento entirely, the boy continues to whine to Haruta. “This is what I’m talking about, you really should think about that before continuing whatever— ” he pauses to wave his hand towards where they were sitting side by side. “—this is.” Haruta casts an imploring look to Kento who just sighs and stands; knees popping as he does causing Haruta to giggle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Backlight handsomely by the sun Kento holds out a hand, a small smile ticking up the corner of his mouth. Haruta could hardly resist the offer and settles his hand in his and allows himself to be pulled to standing. “It was my pleasure to meet you, Haruta.” Kento squeezed his hand lightly as he spoke. “It seems that I am needed elsewhere but I look forward to seeing you perform— I hope to talk with you again tonight.” Electricity courses through Haruta’s body like a lightning rod; the only thing grounding him was Kento’s touch.
“I’ll be the one on the stage,” Haruta assures, heart pumping wildly in his chest and had to adverts his eyes to stop himself from doing something he’d regret. Their parting was a blur, hastened by Yuji yapping something of little importance and tugging Kento away.
The birds chirp in harmony with Haruta’s singing as he picks flowers and skips through the palace. The afternoon creeps closer in a slow trudge that almost has Haruta pulling out his hair but he stops himself because it had been braided elaborately to look like links in a chain. He’d threaded the blue flowers he picked into his hair deciding that he would not be smoothing over any past wrongdoings with Mahito. The flowers were too precious of a symbol.
Music fills the room.
The celebration had long ago started and still Haruta had not seen hide nor hair of Kento. He’d performed and sang and danced, used all his effort and skill he’d learned from courtesans even using a miracle or two (or all six) and nothing. It was an absolutely terrible outcome to an otherwise wonderful day. It wouldn’t have been so awful if the prince himself hadn’t even shown up to his own banquet! The king had been there ushering placating words that Haruta really didn’t pay attention to because he was too busy searching the crowd for a certain set of broad shoulders.
Haruta pouts the whole rest of the night as he flits around the crowds and even sneaks away to search down halls and balconies.
Nothing.
Once the king had long gone to bed and the royals in attendance were too drunk to walk straight, some stuffy advisor pronounced the celebration to be over. Haruta lingers on the steps of the palace for an hour but Hope doesn’t answer and he ends up giving his pendant back to the palace guard who’d waited to collect it from him. Haruta lingers in Kaisen even when Kenjaku and the others are ready to leave for the next kingdom. Kenjaku just sighs at him and slips a few gold in Haruta’s pocket when no one was looking before turning his back to him. The caravan rolls away and Nanako and Mimiko are still glaring at him as they leave but he doesn’t regret it— he wants to stay.
It was a place of miracles after all.