Chapter Text
THWACK THWACK THWACK
The sharp crack of splintering wood under a heavy fist snapped Eijirou back like a tether from his light drift to sleep. He shot to his feet from the guard's bench, blearily searching for the source, soon finding a begrudged officer, standing just out from under the roof of the small station, being pelted with freezing cold rain in the deep amber lamplight. A hot blush of embarrassment crept its way up to his ears once he recognized the superior officer, and he quickly assumed the stance of a soldier with much better manners than he.
The older man grumbled something from underneath his wiry mustache- muddled behind a thick curtain of rain.
“What?” Eijirou yelled against the thundering rain, leaning in slightly, to make sure he heard him this time. He was sure he could smell booze on the man’s breath, heaving heavily into his face, burning at his nose. The older man grimaced as he tugged a roll of parchment from his belt, shoving it into the center of Eijirou’s armored chest, setting him back half a step into the mud.
“Orders, Kirishima, directly from Shinso. He’ll have yer head if you mess this up.”
Eijirou chuckled with an air of embarrassment, thinking the man was making a cruel joke as he took the message in hand, thumbing over the thick wax seal holding the roll tight. Tilting it just right so the firelight hit the crimson impression, he could make out the intricate curves of the royal seal- a fire breathing dragon. He hadn’t ever seen the seal himself, or at least not this close, always passed between lithe aristocratic fingers with great assurance, or to trusted, battle-beaten soldiers. And Eijirou was a far cry from either one of those.
He tilted his head with a look of confusion, eyebrows knitted together.
"..I-"
The man's stern gaze met his. The ghost of a shiver whispered down Eijirou’s spine.
Of course he's serious, stupid.
He took a sharp inhale, quickly stuffing the parchment away in his armor. Offering a small bow to the officer, he cleared his throat. “I’ll finish my shift here, then take care of it, Sir.” The man, inexplicably, looked even more dissatisfied at that, with a deep sigh. “No, you’ll do it now. I’ll take over here.”
“O-oh, uh, sure, yeah.” Eijirou stuttered as he cleared the way for the officer, clumsily taking the small lantern shoved in his general direction, trying not to let the rain reach the delicate flame inside.
The man sat with a groan, and so did the bench, beneath his weight.
As Eijirou back stepped from underneath the small roof, he gritted as the frigid rain began to find the small gaps in his light armor. He silently pleaded the walk wouldn’t be too long, or at least within the city gates. However, typically, sending out a soldier who was patrolling the outside walls, meant it would be a trek. He gazed over his shoulder at the deep, misty fields behind him, skirting around the wall of the bright, warm city of Nagoya within. Usually, he found comfort in the country, but tonight, it felt eerie. One of those nights where faces appeared where they shouldn’t.
“The fuck are you doin’, standin’ around?”
Eijriou snapped back to the present, and bowed to the officer, before quickly turning toward the mists. He still hadn’t gotten into the swing of all this yet, apparently.
He was currently about three months into his position as a city guard. And not one of the good ones, who could spend all of their time drinking booze and playing games, laughing haughtily in their adorned armor. No, Eijirou was the lowest of the low, and even then, he had no idea how he had gotten so lucky as to get in. He was born to lowly parents who abandoned him to an elderly couple who worked on a farm on the far outskirts of the city. One of the edges where they barely meet their required output, year after year. Where the steer show their ribs, and every grain counts. People like him were worms- lower than worms- to anyone within the city walls. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time- taking a wooden rod to the head, and staying on his feet.
The guard who recruited him called him 'sturdy'. They said his brain was full of rocks, but his skin seemed to be made of the stuff, so they kept him around.
As he began down the sodden path, he pulled out the - now fairly damp - piece of paper from his waistband to read the orders, and figure out where exactly he's supposed to be going. His hand barely shook as he popped the wax seal free and uncurled it, if not from the frigid rain, from the anticipation of a direct order from the Emperor’s Right Hand. It wasn’t too terribly uncommon for guards to get orders from Shinso, but this was Eijirou’s first.
He held the lantern close, trying his best to hide the page from another heavy sheet of rain as he read it.
‘Yamamoto Rin
Southwest of the West Gate
A collection of 200 Ryo must be made in full, forthwith. If the collection can not be completed, authority and direction is given to Kirishima Eijirou to execute Yamamoto Rin, immediately.
Shinso, of the Royal Guard’
His steps faltered to a stop, reading the orders over again, and again once more, making sure he read it right, that the rain or his still sleep addled brain wasn't shifting the words around.
“A collection of 200 Ryo must be made in full, forthwith. If the collection can not be completed, authority and direction is given to Kirishima Eijirou to execute Yamamoto Rin, immediately. Shinso, of the Royal Guard” He whispered the words to himself, an apparition of them left in the cold night air. He stared at the page, trying to piece the words together, like he suddenly forgot how to read. Surely that can’t be right. He was just a new recruit, barely out of training, he hadn’t even gotten his official tailor-made armor yet, he barely knew the first thing about collecting debts, let alone killing somebody for them. He gripped the letter so tight it crinkled in his hand.
This must be wrong. He turned back to where he left his superior officer, his eyes wide with confusion, tension creasing his brow with every footfall. Eijirou stopped in his tracks when he could make out the older man’s face again. It was the same as before, stone cold, and knowing. He wouldn’t have any answers for Eijirou. The man gave a short, solemn nod, and Eijirou could feel the blood draining from his face.
Execute?
His pulse was drumming in his ears in an ugly, asynchronous beat. It felt as though something crawled between his ribs and clutched at his heart, froze every nerve ending and muscle where he stood. Why would they want to kill a farmer over a fine? Granted, 200 Ryo was a terrifying amount of money, let alone as a debt you owed to the Emperor. Eijirou would be lucky to hold even two Ryo in his hand at once within a lifetime. But some farmers were luckier than others, and maybe Yamamoto was one of them. His luck was running out though, as it seems.
It wasn't rare to hear of executions, but it was rare for a farmer- someone who owned their land and had high enough standing to be in dealings with the Emperor. But things were getting tight lately. The Emperor wasn’t quite tyrannical, but he certainly wasn't shy of appearing like it. And from what he’d heard, Shinso was being permitted with much more controversial choices lately. But either way, this is all if Yamamoto can’t pay the fine. And surely, he has to know this fine is coming, and with how large the sum is, he must know the risk it poses.
He’ll pay it, Eijirou kept telling himself, forcing his heartbeat to slow. He didn’t know what else to think, as he trudged through the shivering mist, straining against his thawing muscles.
The walk wasn’t terribly long, just wet and dark, aside from his little lantern, fighting its best against the wind and rain. He eventually spotted the farm, the family name painted down an old, faded wood panel by the doorway. A few cattle trotted up to the small fence as he approached, the creatures swaying heavy with each step. And even in a monsoon, Eijirou wouldn't give up the opportunity to pet an animal.
He slowly lifted an open palm as it approached, making sure the animal wouldn’t be spooked by him, and when it seemed okay, he dropped his hand to the side of the creature’s neck, digging his fingernails into its dark, coarse hair. He felt a smile creep onto his lips as the cow leaned slightly into his scratching, a light huff coming from its wet nose.
“Excuse me, officer? Is everything alright?”
Eijirou turned to find an older looking woman under the roof of the porch, pulling her outworn robe tighter around herself. It took him a beat to piece together what to say, the mental detachment catching up on him.
“Oh, yes, sorry, does Yamamoto Rin live here? I have to speak with him.”
The woman nodded, somewhat cautiously, “Yes, he's my husband. Please, come in, I’ll find him for you." Eijirou gave a small glance to the cow, patting it goodbye before hurrying to the woman. "You must be freezing, young man, you had better not catch a cold.” She chided in her uncertainty, guiding him into the small home. Eijirou tried to smile, but it felt hollow and weird, gnawing at the pit of his chest, the parchment on his waist feeling like the weight of a full grown man as he passed through the doorway of the home.
"Oki over there loves visitors, though she hardly gets to see any. Kind of you to pay her a visit."
The woman's shoulders were sunken with age, as was the smile tucked in her softened skin, and the door seemed heavy under her hands. She didn’t know the severity of the news he had to share tonight- nor could she have. She hadn’t read the words that gave him the royal authority to make this the most dark and terrifying night of her life. And here she was treating him like a son.
As he entered the house behind the woman, he slipped his shoes off, and blew his lantern out as he set it down beside them. A quick glance around, and it was easy to tell the situation he had just stepped into. Every corner of this home was worn to the bone, but loved, so deeply loved. The tatami was worn thin, patched in some areas, but obviously dutifully cleaned. There was a small shelf with a proudly displayed tea set, missing a cup or two. Two small floor cushions sat beside each other near the sunken hearth, their cloth patched with layers of scrap fabric. A small teapot hanging above the red embers.
He removed his helmet, shaking free his long locks of hair, and tucking the helmet under his arm. He lightly bowed to the woman, "Thank you for inviting me in." She responded with a swift, nervous nod as she quickened her pace to find her husband.
“Rin? There’s a soldier here to speak with you.” She called through a doorway, as Eijirou stood stiff by the hearth in the middle of the small room. She returned with a smile. “Would you like some tea? I was just pouring a cup of my own, when I noticed you out there.” Out of habit, Eijirou nodded. “Tea would be lovely, thank you.” And he nearly bit his tongue as he said it. What kind of man walks into someone’s home, with a letter calling for their execution, and sits with them to have tea? He felt sick, and his head started spinning when he noticed the small portrait of who must be their son, along with a humble altar below it, a fresh sprig of flowers in the vase.
“Are you alright, young man? You can sit, if you’d like. Must've been a long walk.” The woman said as she handed him a small cup, indigo with painted cherry blossoms all along one side, a tiny chip on the bottom rim he could feel with his ring finger. He took a deep breath as he smiled at her, taking a seat on the floor, hoping he wasn’t dripping rain onto their mat.
As he was about to thank her, an old man appeared from the other room, bent over a wooden cane. He gave a small bow, even though his bones naturally bent him into the shape after all these years. “Good evening. What can I do for you, Sir?” He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, where the fear resided. Eijirou quickly stood, not exactly sure as to how he should respond. What was he supposed to say? How could he ask a man for all he has?
This must be some deific joke. Sending him to collect a fine that would take lifetimes to earn, from a couple whose home smelled like Eijirou's childhood. From a man who could barely stand on his own, whose given enough already, body and soul. Shinso demanded he cut him down. He demanded Eijirou to run his blood to the Earth like water for the crime of fucking trying. For living a long, beautiful life, touched with hardships and no shortage of pain. A life the Emperor knew nothing about. A life Kirishima knew all too well.
More than a few times, he found his father with a broken lip or bruises littering his skin. He'd always say it was because he was a clumsy old man, but when they worked the fields the next morning, he'd double the sweat on his brow and callouses on his hands, and Eijirou knew. He knew, but he kept his head down and worked alongside the man who took him in. He'd try to make jokes and tell shitty stories to make his old man laugh again. And often he did, ruffling Eijirou's hair with a laugh that could light the darkest night. He tried to make everything okay again. But it always weighed in the air, filling their lungs and making everything heavier than it already was.
When he took this job, he promised to himself and his father's grave that he would be different.
He sucked in a deep breath, corralling the tears threatening to burst the surface.
He’ll pay it. He has to pay it.
“I was asked to collect a fine for the Emperor tonight.”
Eijirou glanced over at the woman who kept her head low, and back to the man, “Were you made aware of the debt?”
He was screaming at whatever deity would hear him, whichever one took enough time out of their oh so divine lives in the skies to bend their ear down to Earth, close enough to hear Eijirou's heart cry for this family. But he knew no such deity would listen now, when they never have before.
Rin nodded with a drag of breath. Eijirou had to remind himself not to shatter the delicate teacup in his hand. “I’ve had a loan with the Emperor for years. I’ve been paying it as much and as often as I am able, but,” The man’s face creased with worry, his tone quieting with shame. “the interest. I haven’t been able to keep up with it. The farm has been difficult to manage lately, with my back." He softly gazed at his wife across the room, a pleading look in his eyes. "And there are only so many corners you can cut.”
Eijirou stared at the man for a few moments, his mind going everywhere and nowhere. To the altar that didn't have a speck of dust on it, the plates on the kitchen shelf that did. The woman quietly sipping her tea, hands shaking as she prepared another cup for her husband. The rain creeping from his hair, down his spine. The cows huffing in the rain. The seams of the home crying against the storm. The small peaceful ecosystem of their lives breathing its last breaths.
“Whatever the fine is, I will do my best to pay as much of it as I can, but-”
“200 Ryo.” Eijirou blurted out, his armor felt heavier by the second, choking around his neck, clamping down on the lungs in his chest. He wanted to throw the letter in his waistband into the fire- pretend this never happened. Run back to a home that doesn't exist anymore, run back into arms that aren't here anymore.
“It has to be paid, tonight. All of it.”
The words coming from his mouth were entirely disconnected from him, stagnant in the humid air.
Rin looked at him with wide eyes, then over to his wife, who reflected the same.
God, please, no. Please.
“I-I can’t. Even if the Emperor took everything we have, I’m not sure if it would even cover half of the fine.”
Eijirou felt like he was about to shoot teacup shards across the house, so he gently set it down, and did the only thing he could think to do, and shoved his hand into the small sack on his hip, digging for any loose change he thought he might have - only finding a few strings of Mon, which seemed like some sort of pitiful joke right now. His hands shook as he set them on the table alongside his helmet, suddenly wondering how much his armor could sell for. He'd be tossed in jail for the rest of his life if he was lucky, but at this point he'd sell his soul for this man could get one more night. Maybe the royal seal? That might catch a decent price in those markets his mom told him to never wander into. He pulled the parchment from his waistband to check if the seal had been cracked when he unrolled it.
"Oh, sweetheart, no-"
Her husband gently cut her off, “Do we at least have the night, to prepare?”
Eijirou froze and looked up at the man, his breath dragging against his dry throat. “What?”
“If the fine can’t be collected tonight, I’m assuming we'll be taken to prison. Will we have the rest of the night to prepare ourselves?” He asked, taking a few weak steps toward his wife, who had budding tears in her eyes. Eijirou clenched his jaw, breathing himself down a sob. A waft of the warm floral tea hit him.
I can't do this. I can't.
He rushed to Rin and took the man firmly by the shoulders, pleading. “You need to leave. Leave the city, go as far away as you can, immediately. It doesn't matter where you go, go anywhere but here. I'll do my best to give you as long as I can, but you need to go, now. Please.” The couple looked at him in pure shock, looking more concerned for Eijirou than themselves. “But-” Eijirou cut him off, almost yelling against the rain, against his own rushing heartbeat, against the thoughts swirling in his pounding head, “I have orders to kill you tonight if you don’t pay it. You need to leave. Now.”
A clap of thunder reverberated throughout the room, a tail of lightning flashing bright light through the small windows, and the front door snapped open, the rails splintering from the sheer force, making the couple jump. Eijirou turned to find a figure shrouded in black, with golden, snake-like pupils piercing through the dark, locked in on him.
“Worthless.”
“Who-”
Eijirou’s mouth seized shut and his eyes brimmed with tears. Magma the shade of death filled each vein without exception, burning, burning, burning. Scorching and ripping through muscle fiber, leaving nothing untouched. He tried to tear at his skin, tried to cry and scream, tried to get it off - but nothing moved. It dug deeper, filling his chest cavity with rot and primal fear. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. That is, until the creature with golden eyes spoke. He couldn’t make it out beyond the blood in his ears rushing like a crashing tidal wave in a storm. Barbed, thousand ton talons reached into his skin, hooking themselves deep within his muscles, digging into the bone. Like a puppet doll, the arms pulled at him, contracting and twisting every armature in his body to do their bidding, and he was powerless in the face of their violence.
Even the thought of putting up a fight against it was severed from his mind with a stinging knife.
And there was red. The wool over his eyes seemed to be soaked in wine when the light hit it. Everything was numb and ablaze simultaneously, but beyond it all, a ghost of warmth on his face. And it almost felt nice, comparatively. It made him feel like he could just hide in the recesses of his own skull and let go of it all.
Eijirou forgot why he was holding on in the first place.
The red soaked in unceremonious splotches, blurring the edges of light and dark, and he wondered if it was his own blood. But it would be okay. As long as the burning stopped.
Soon it was over, consciousness lost its weight on his bones, and the red flowed to black.
* * *
Cold.
Ice cold.
Did he kick the blanket off of himself again?
He curled inwards, and his bed was rough, grating against his cheekbone like stone. And the ache. He tried to bring his hands to his abdomen to console his bones, but they seemed stuck. Stuck with something even colder than his bed. A deep breath in invaded his senses, a lingering scent of rot and mold in the air.
When his brain finished calculating everything wrong with this situation, he attempted to open his eyes. They protested against the light, although dim. It felt like he had either been asleep for days, or just a few moments. That limbo that clouds every nerve and makes you sick to your stomach.
Surrounding him, he found the cold interior of a jail cell. Rough-cut stone and bolted doors. A mess of fibers on the floor in attempt to be a bed. He tugged at his arms again, this time coming to realize the wrought iron clasp digging into his wrists was holding them back.
A flash of gold at the small slit of the door through his peripheral vision.
Locks chattering.
Those eyes, he couldn't remember those eyes, but his subconscious did. Something fierce and primal. Eijirou scrambled backwards on the floor of the cell, the panic trickling in like a cracking dam. His back hit the wall, but it wasn't near far enough.
"Took ya long enough!"
A jovial voice echoed against the empty walls, and there Eijirou met his fear. A man clad in royal robes, layers of rich colored silk and strings of precious beads, lavender hair, snake eyes, and the flash of a golden incisor. He gritted his teeth, trying to press out the rattling of his bones.
He'd met Shinso once; at his recruitment. It was brief, nothing more than a nod as he greeted all of the new men into the army, alongside the Emperor. But he can't say introduction gave him any relief at the moment.
"You needed your beauty sleep, evidently."
The aristocrat chuckled as he leaned against the far wall, placing an ornate smoking pipe between his teeth. He took a long draw, gazing over Eijirou's no doubt pathetic state. Panic-stricken, pressed against the wall, and certain he was about to die.
"No need to cry, it'll all be over soon. I just need to ask the Emperor if his dogs have been fed yet."
Eijirou hadn't realized he'd been crying, and habitually tried to pull his hand away from his back to wipe them away, to no avail. Instead, helplessly pressing his cheek into his shoulder.
"Dogs? I- I don't-"
"Cause if they have, I needed to keep you alive, so you can walk into the mountains yourself. A nice pack of wolves up there that keep prying eyes away. The Emperor is very conscious about not letting anything go to waste."
He sounded bored with the whole thing. Amused in his own actions and none else, blowing his smoke into delicate rings that hung throughout the cell with a thick scent.
Eijirou sat in silence, staring at the man like he had an eyeball growing out of his nose. It took a few ticks for Shinso to roll his eyes and slump to the side, sighing dramatically.
"Some of you forget, some don't. I was hoping my entrance was dramatic enough to remember this time around."
He pushed himself from the wall and gracefully strode over to Eijirou, a pitiful, fake smile playing at his face. He crouched down to be at eye level with him, elbows resting on his knees as his pipe leaked smoke between his fingers.
"The debt you were sent to collect last night. It was a test, and you failed."
Floods of memories barraged his vision, the letter, the cow, the couple, the shaking in his bones… the burning poison in his veins, the golden eyes. His head shot up to meet them.
A deep smirk twisted the man's face. As if he was holding back a laugh.
"Coming back now, eh? Well, nobody remembers this part, so I'll just fill you in."
He sat all the way down, legs crossed in front of him, like he was about to tell an old friend a juicy story.
"I've seen your type before, waily, wimpy, dumb. The moment I saw that shack, I knew you couldn't do it. So I made you do it! Call it the divine, magic, a curse, either way, your blade went kkkkkkkshkt" He made a slicing gesture across his neck, rolling his head to the side with his tongue poking out a little, as if to play dead. He popped an eye open, "Oh, and I had you take out the hag too, cause she was crying like a BI-"
Eijirou slammed his fists against his restraints, and they creaked at the pressure.
"I would never. You're lying." Eijirou gritted between his teeth, fighting the tears welling up in his eyes.
Shinso tilted an eyebrow in amusement, and stood. He reached in his pocket and retrieved a small shard of something, tossing it to the ground in front of Eijirou.
"Thought you might say that."
It was a piece of pottery, glazed indigo blue, with a small cherry blossom branch running across the corner, distorted by a smear of dried blood. The teacup. The one with the chip at the bottom, filled with some floral tea he couldn't remember the name of, handed to him by that sweet, scared old woman. What was her name? Did he even bother to ask?
"Oh, and you've got a little somethin' on your face."
Shinso ran the pad of his thumb along his tongue, and bent slightly. He drug the wet finger across Eijirou's cheek, then pressing his thumb into the center of his shirt, wiping it off. Eijirou glanced down to stare at the streak of lightly dried blood, thick and clumpy, over the space that occupied his heart.
Tears started falling to the unforgiving stone below his knees and Shinso disappeared through the doorway. Eijirou felt sick, like he might throw up, or like something is off kilter, like this can't be the reality he's stuck with. Like this is all a bad dream, one of those soul upsetting ones you get after you eat too much fruit, or stay in the rain too long. Except this one wasn't fuzzy at the edges, it was too well defined. There was no hiding here, no jolt to reality, just cold stone, dried blood mixing with wet tears, and not even your own hands to hide your face.
* * * * *
"Move." Hanta's ears perked up at the familiar tone of Shinso's voice. He watched as the man entered the interior garden past the door guards, where part of the royal family was spending their morning. He stood firm at his post behind Shoto, who was fully enraptured by the book Hanta had recommended from the library- much to his delight. Shoto was one for tales of unlikely heroes.
"Emperor Todoroki, I have a small request to ask of you." Shinso took a knee, with a respectfully deep bow in front of the man sat beneath the shade of a persimmon tree. Enji Todoroki nodded, not taking his eyes off of his reading. He was making his way through a stack of detailed reports on the city's population.
Hanta listened intently as Shinso explained the 'traitorous' acts of a low level soldier. He was sent to collect a large debt for the Emperor, but in failing to do so, he told the debtor to flee, ultimately stealing money from Emperor Todoroki, and the kingdom of Nagoya as a whole.
"I suggest he be executed, your highness. We have no room for men of this stature in our kingdom, much less the army."
Enji didn't take more than a breath to wave his hand, too busy with his reports to pay mind to such menial tasks. Like this soldier was nothing more than a fly to be swatted away.
"Your trust in me is humbling, your majesty. I will leave you to your duties."
Shinso rose to his feet and turned to the exit with a sickly grin. One Hanta saw more and more these days. He took a small breath, and reached for the small teapot to refill Shoto's depleted drink.
A soft tug on his sleeve, and a glance through silver hair gave him enough of an indication as to what Shoto desired.
"Is there nothing better to be done?" Hanta asked, just as the man reached the door, topping off Shoto's ivory cup with jasmine tea. Shinso stopped in his tracks and glanced over to the fellow guard, venom in those eyes. He glanced at the Emperor, making sure his ear was open to the question.
"Is there no task he can fulfill that would serve us better than a corpse? A man who has already sworn himself to the Emperor would certainly be of some value around here. In fact, the east hall was a bit dusty this morning."
Shinso tensed his brow, facing the man, bearing his teeth as he spoke. "He forfeited that vow the moment he betrayed the Emperor's trust. For you to even suggest such a traitorous man enter the royal home should get you-"
"That handmaiden did pass of illness a few weeks past. What was her name? Kiko? …Riko?" Enji absentmindedly wondered.
"Kiriko." Shoto replied.
While none of the royal family looked up, Shinso looked at them all like they had gone mad, landing lastly on Hanta himself. He could feel the ire pouring from the Emperor's guard. He silenced himself with a shrewd demeanor, knowing he had lost this battle. One of many against Hanta.
"Just watch him closely. If he does anything foolish, you're free to do with him what you will." The Emperor explained. Shinso clenched his jaw with a bow. And as he exited the garden, Enji called, "You know how I hate to make a waste of things."