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Chapter Text

The Matsuno manor was built for silence. Even at the height of day, when the gardens were full of servants and the kitchens clattered with pots, there was a stillness that clung to its walls, heavy and unyielding.

Every sound seemed measured: the soft sweep of cloth over polished floors, the distant ring of a bell signaling the hour, the faint echo of footsteps that never lingered long enough to feel human. It was a house that did not welcome laughter.

Chifuyu Matsuno moved through its corridors as though he had been carved to fit them. His posture was straight, his steps unhurried, his eyes lowered just enough to avoid presumption.

The servants bowed when he passed, never meeting his gaze for more than a heartbeat. Some did not look at him at all.

He knew why.

He had always known why.

The illegitimate child had grown into the heir. His father’s affair made flesh, seated above those who carried purer bloodlines. The title of “heir” had been bestowed on him not out of love or pride, but because the Matsuno line required one.

A family name was worth more than any single person. So Chifuyu learned to wear the mask expected of him. He memorized his lessons until his hand cramped around the brush, stood still until his knees ached, and spoke only when spoken to.

The heir they wanted was obedient, composed, silent. He did not stumble. He did not falter. He did not remind them of his mother. He played the part well. Almost flawlessly. But the silence remained.

The morning meal was taken in the great hall, where the lacquered table stretched nearly the length of the room. At its head sat Lord Matsuno, his presence sharper than the blade of any sword. His stepmother was beside him, her posture so refined she seemed carved from porcelain, her every motion delicate and deliberate.

Chifuyu entered with a bow so deep his hair slipped over his shoulder. He took his place two seats down, where the distance felt like both a reprieve and a punishment. The meal began without ceremony. The servants moved like shadows, silent as they poured tea and placed dishes.

Conversation was sparse, and when it came, it carried the weight of formality.

“The western retainers grow restless,” his father said, his voice measured, commanding. “There are disputes over the harvest tax. They must be reminded that loyalty to the Matsuno name is not conditional.”

“Yes, my lord,” his stepmother replied, her voice soft, precise. She did not look at Chifuyu when she spoke. She never did.

Chifuyu listened in silence, his hands steady on the porcelain bowl before him. The steam curled upward, warm against his face, but the food tasted of nothing.

It was one of the younger cousins who broke the rhythm. Barely twelve, the boy leaned forward with a spark of excitement in his eyes. “I heard from the guards last night. They say pirates were seen again near the southern coast. A crew called Toman.”

Chifuyu’s hand paused over his tea. The name carried a weight he couldn’t explain. He had heard it whispered in the servants’ quarters, caught in half-sentences when they thought he wasn’t listening. A crew that burned ships, plundered villages, and vanished into the horizon like smoke. Some said they were demons in human skin, others that they were simply men who refused to bow to anyone.

His father’s brow tightened, though he did not raise his voice. “Idle gossip. Do not waste your time on the tales of peasants.”

“But they say the Toman pirates can’t be caught—”

“Enough.” His stepmother’s voice cut sharp through the hall. “We are not children to whisper about monsters.” The boy bowed his head, chastened. The silence returned, heavier than before. Chifuyu lifted his cup, letting the tea wash over his tongue. Still, the taste would not come.

When the meal ended, his father rose. The room seemed to shift with him, as though his presence had been the only thing holding it upright. His eyes lingered on Chifuyu only briefly. “You will attend the inspection this afternoon,” he said. “The retainers must see their heir.”

“Yes, Father.” The reply was quiet, steady. He had practiced it countless times. His father turned away, robes sweeping across the floor, and was gone. His stepmother followed, her shadow passing like a cloud across the sun. The others trailed after, cousins and attendants and retainers, their voices low and distant. Soon, Chifuyu was alone at the long table. The silence pressed in again. He sat there for a time, hands folded neatly, before rising with the same care he carried in every movement. His reflection caught faintly in the lacquered surface of the table as he stood — pale eyes, pale skin. He did not look like his father. He never had. The hall was vast, but his footsteps sounded too loud as he left.

The rest of the morning passed in lessons. History, politics, poetry. His brush glided across the paper with practiced precision, but none of the words stayed with him. The tutor praised his diligence, then reminded him that diligence was expected, not exceptional. When the lesson ended, he walked the garden paths in silence. The chrysanthemums were in bloom, pale gold and white, but their fragrance was faint. A group of servants passed in the distance. They bowed deeply, too deeply, and their whispers carried on the breeze as soon as he had gone.

The heir.

The illegitimate heir.

He did not turn. He did not flinch. By the time the afternoon sun fell across the courtyard, he had arranged his expression back into perfect stillness. He joined his father for the inspection, bowing when required, speaking only when prompted. The retainers looked at him with the same polite masks they wore for everyone. Not loyalty. Not warmth. Only expectation.

It was evening by the time he returned to his quarters. The sky beyond the window burned crimson at the edges, the sea faintly visible in the distance. Chifuyu sat on the tatami floor, the silence of the manor pressing around him once more. He thought of the whispers at the table that morning. Of men who lived by no one’s rules.

And for a fleeting moment, he envied them.

Chapter Text

The manor grew quieter with each passing hour.

By nightfall, the last of the retainers had retreated to their chambers, and the corridors were left to the lanterns burning dim along the walls. The faint smell of smoke and polished cedar hung in the air. For most, it was a time of rest.

For Chifuyu, it was the only time he could breathe.

He sat in his chamber until the stillness became unbearable, his posture held stiffly, his hands folded too neatly in his lap. The paper walls filtered the faintest wash of moonlight, pale and cold. Beyond them, the house seemed to sleep, but Chifuyu’s blood thrummed with restlessness.

He rose.

His movements were soundless, practiced. He had walked this path more times than he could count. His steps knew where the floorboards creaked, which servants dozed at their posts, which gates had hinges that groaned if opened too wide. The Matsuno heir was not supposed to slip into the night, but he had been doing so since he was a boy.

The air outside was sharp, clean. He drew it into his lungs, filling himself with something that belonged to him alone. His robes, plain compared to the silks he wore by day, fluttered faintly in the breeze.

The path to the cliff wound behind the estate, hidden beneath the shadows of towering cypress trees. Their branches leaned over the narrow trail, whispering against one another when the wind shifted. As a child, he had once been afraid of them. His mother’s hand had steadied his own, her voice lilting softly with stories as they walked.

The stars are a map, Chifuyu. Do you see them? They guide sailors across endless seas. Each one carries a story. And if you listen closely, you can hear them.

He could still hear her, sometimes. The warmth of her tone, the faint smile in her words. But when he turned, there was only the rustle of the trees.

The trail ended abruptly, spilling into an expanse of open earth. The cliff stretched out like a waiting hand, its edge sharp above the restless sea below.

The air was different here. Salt bit at his tongue, and the crash of waves filled the silence left behind in the manor. Above, the stars burned, countless and clear, their light scattered like shards of glass across a black canvas.

Chifuyu stepped to the edge. The sea sprawled endlessly before him, its surface silver where the moonlight struck, dark where the depths swallowed it whole. It looked alive, breathing, untamed.

He lowered himself into the grass, lying back with his hands folded behind his head. The earth was cool against his skin, grounding. Here, there were no titles. No watchful eyes. No father’s gaze, heavy with unspoken disdain.

Here, he was not the Matsuno heir. He was only Chifuyu.

His chest loosened as he exhaled.

For a long while, he simply lay there, watching the constellations wheel slowly above. He traced them silently, the ones his mother had taught him. The hunter. The sail. The wolf. His lips shaped the names without sound.

He remembered her stories — how sailors prayed to the stars for safe passage, how lovers promised to meet again beneath the same sky. How every star was a story, carried from shore to shore.

She had believed it. He still wanted to.

The wind rose, carrying the smell of brine and the distant call of gulls. The waves struck the rocks below in steady rhythm, like a heartbeat. Chifuyu closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him.

The emptiness of the manor felt far away here. The silence was different. Not heavy, not suffocating. It was vast. Open.

And yet, the ache in his chest remained.

He had come to the cliff countless times since her death. At first, it had been to feel close to her — to chase the echo of her voice, the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. Later, it had become something else. A place to breathe. To exist without pretense. To be someone his family did not know.

But lying beneath the stars, he could not shake the thought that he was still alone.

His eyes opened again, drifting across the sky. The stars flickered, steady and cold. Somewhere out there, sailors might be using them to chart a course, just as his mother had said. Somewhere, people were moving, living, free.

The sea whispered below, calling and unknowable.

He wondered what it would feel like, to follow it.

The first hint of dawn touched the horizon before Chifuyu stirred. The stars had faded, washed away by pale light. The sea was no longer silver but gray, restless still, waiting.

Reluctantly, he rose. His robes were damp with dew, his hair mussed by the wind. He brushed himself off, but the air of freedom clung to him stubbornly.

The path back through the cypress grove was slower, heavier. Each step toward the manor felt like a step back into a cage. By the time the walls rose into view, silent and imposing, the tightness had returned to his chest.

He paused at the edge of the grounds, looking back once. The cliff was hidden from sight, the sea’s roar muffled by distance. Only the faintest trace of salt clung to the breeze.

Then he stepped back inside.

By morning, when the servants came to wake him, the heir of the Matsuno family would be seated at the table once more, composed and obedient.

But the stars would remain with him, hidden where no one could reach.

Chapter Text

The courtyard was already crowded when Chifuyu arrived.

Servants bustled along the edges, carrying trays of tea and setting up stands for the retainers. The retainers themselves stood in small clusters, their silks rich with clan crests, their swords gleaming at their sides. Voices carried low but eager, laughter punctuated here and there, though all of it quieted when Lord Matsuno stepped into view.

Chifuyu followed a measured pace behind his father, his robes immaculate. He kept his gaze lowered just enough to appear respectful, just enough to avoid presumption. It was a performance, and he had learned long ago that performances mattered more than truth.

“Be still,” his father’s voice murmured, low enough for only him to hear. “You represent this house.”

“Yes, Father.”

The inspection began.

One by one, the retainers came forward to offer their reports: harvest yields, tax collections, disputes among tenants. Chifuyu stood beside his father, hands folded, nodding when expected. When a retainer bowed and addressed him directly, his father’s eyes flicked toward him like a knife.

“Your heir will speak,” Lord Matsuno said, his tone a command, not an invitation.

Chifuyu forced his voice steady. “The matter of the western fields should be reviewed again after the next collection, to ensure stability.”

The retainer bowed, his mouth curling faintly at the corners — not mockery, but not sincerity either. Polite deference, nothing more.

The inspection continued.

Chifuyu listened as the words droned on: grain, tariffs, repairs to the eastern granary. It was endless, and yet every syllable felt like a stone being placed upon his shoulders. His father’s expression remained unreadable throughout, though once or twice his gaze flicked to Chifuyu, cool and sharp, as though waiting for him to falter.

He didn’t. He never did.

It was near the end of the inspection when the subject shifted.

One retainer, a broad man with weathered skin, cleared his throat. “My lord. The villagers bring troubling reports from the southern cape. They speak of ships sighted under a strange banner. Some claim it was the Toman crew.”

A murmur rippled faintly among the others.

Lord Matsuno’s jaw tightened. “Stories.”

“With respect, my lord, they say a merchant vessel was set aflame. Such rumors spread quickly among the common folk. Fear grows.”

Another voice chimed in, quieter. “They say these pirates vanish like smoke. That the sea itself shields them.”

“Fools who do not know how to guard their own ships,” Lord Matsuno snapped, his voice cutting across the courtyard. “The Matsuno family does not cower at bedtime stories.”

The murmurs died quickly. The retainers bowed their heads, silenced by the sharpness in his tone.

Beside him, Chifuyu kept his face carefully still, though his heart beat faster. The word Toman lingered in his thoughts, heavy, echoing the whispers he had caught at breakfast days earlier. 

But his father’s hand suddenly fell upon his shoulder. Not heavy, but firm, cold.

“Remember this, Chifuyu,” Lord Matsuno said, loud enough for the nearest retainers to hear. “A wolf may snarl and bare its teeth, but it is still a beast. Beasts do not lead. They are ruled by hunger. Unworthy of respect.”

The retainers nodded, murmuring their assent.

Chifuyu bowed his head, hiding the heat that rose in his chest. He knew his father’s words were not only about pirates.

They were about him.

By the time the inspection ended, the sun had already begun its descent, throwing long shadows across the courtyard. The retainers dispersed in orderly groups, their voices rising again now that the lord’s attention had passed.

Chifuyu remained a step behind his father as they returned toward the inner halls. His father spoke briefly with a retainer about the next collection, not acknowledging Chifuyu at all.

Only when they reached the threshold of the hall did he pause.

“You will remember what was said,” Lord Matsuno murmured, his voice low but cutting. His gaze swept over Chifuyu like cold steel, searching, weighing, finding him wanting.

“Yes, Father,” Chifuyu replied.

His father said nothing more. He turned and disappeared into the manor, his presence leaving the corridor colder in its absence.

Chifuyu lingered a moment longer. The air in the courtyard was cooling, tinged with the faint salt of the sea breeze. From beyond the walls, he thought he could almost hear the crash of waves against stone, faint but steady, like a heartbeat.

The sound called to him.

But when he turned back, it was only the silence of the manor that greeted him, vast and heavy.

The evening meal was quieter than usual. His stepmother spoke briefly of arrangements for a festival two provinces over, her tone polite but distant. His cousins whispered among themselves but fell silent whenever his gaze lifted.

Chifuyu ate in silence, his mind elsewhere.

He thought of the cliff. Of the stars. Of his mother’s stories about sailors and their constellations. 

The food tasted of nothing.

When the meal ended, he bowed and excused himself.

And though the corridors of the manor stretched long and unyielding before him, he already knew where his steps would carry him once night fell.

Chapter Text

The day dragged long.

Chifuyu sat through lessons of calligraphy and diplomacy, his brush steady even as his mind drifted elsewhere. By the time the ink dried and the scrolls were rolled, the sky had already begun to deepen into gold and red.

He should have returned quietly to his quarters. He should have kept his silence as always.

But when the evening meal came, something shifted.

It began with a small thing — one of his cousins mentioning again the whispers in the village, of banners with wolves and fires on the water. His father’s expression soured instantly.

“I will not hear it repeated again,” Lord Matsuno said, his voice hard. “Only cowards obsess over the movements of criminals.”

Chifuyu’s stepmother inclined her head delicately. “The Matsuno family must stand above such peasant fear.”

The conversation should have ended there. Chifuyu should have bowed his head, let it pass.

But the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“Perhaps it isn’t cowardice,” he said softly. “If ships are being burned, it’s natural for people to be afraid.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

His cousin’s eyes went wide. His stepmother set her chopsticks down, movements so precise they were almost brittle.

And his father turned toward him.

“You speak as if you admire them,” Lord Matsuno said. His voice was calm, too calm.

Chifuyu lowered his gaze. “No, Father. I only meant—”

“You only meant,” his father repeated, the words laced with scorn. “Do you think the heir of this house has the luxury of meaning? Of indulging in foolish sympathy?”

“I…” Chifuyu’s throat tightened. He forced the words past it. “I spoke carelessly.”

He thought that would be the end of it. That his father would dismiss him with his usual coldness.

But something different flickered in the man’s eyes. Something darker.

In one swift motion, Lord Matsuno’s hand lashed across the table. The strike caught Chifuyu hard across the cheek, sharp enough to send him staggering sideways. Porcelain rattled, a teacup shattered against the floor.

The room froze.

Chifuyu’s stepmother did not move. His cousins stared down at their bowls, as if the lacquered surface could swallow them whole. No one spoke. No one dared.

His father’s voice filled the silence, low and cutting.

“You will not shame this house with your softness. Do you understand? You are heir to the Matsuno name. You are not a boy chasing dreams, not a bastard clinging to fairy stories.”

The words sank deeper than the sting of the blow. Chifuyu’s cheek burned, but his chest burned hotter.

For a moment, he wanted to speak back. To shout that he had never asked to be heir, that all he had ever been was a shadow of someone his father despised. The words surged at the back of his throat, desperate, furious—

But they died there.

“Yes, Father,” he whispered.

Lord Matsuno’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, sharp and unyielding, before turning away. He picked up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.

The meal continued.

Chifuyu’s cheek throbbed, but no one looked at him. The silence around the table was heavier than stone, heavier than the manor walls themselves.

When it was over, he bowed. His legs felt numb as he rose, as though his body moved without him. He walked the corridor back to his chamber in perfect stillness, his face carefully arranged, just as he had been taught.

But inside, he was breaking.

That night, the manor’s silence felt unbearable. Every lantern, every tatami mat, every polished corner seemed to press down on him until he couldn’t breathe. His cheek still stung faintly where his father’s hand had struck, the mark hidden but present.

He left his chamber as soon as the halls grew quiet. His steps were faster than usual, almost desperate, carrying him through the cypress grove and up the familiar path.

The stars waited above, countless and bright, their cold light spilling over the restless sea.

Chifuyu collapsed into the grass, lying back as the night air filled his lungs. The burn in his chest eased, little by little, though the ache did not fade entirely.

He thought of his mother, of her gentle voice as she spoke of sailors and constellations. He thought of her hand holding his, guiding him along this very path.

The stars will always be there, Chifuyu. Even when everything else feels heavy, look up. They belong to no one.

His father’s words echoed, bitter and sharp: Not a boy. Not a bastard.

Chifuyu shut his eyes. The waves roared below, steady, endless, free.

For the first time in a long while, he wished he wasn’t alone on the cliff.

Chapter Text

The sting in Chifuyu’s cheek had faded by morning, but the words lingered.

He went about the day as though nothing had happened — posture straight, expression still, voice quiet. The servants bowed as always, eyes averted. His cousins laughed in corners where he could not hear. His father’s gaze passed over him like steel.

The routine was unbroken, but Chifuyu felt the crack inside him widen with every hour.

By nightfall, he could no longer stay within the manor walls.

The halls were empty when he slipped away, his steps faster than usual. The cypress grove swallowed him in shadow, the branches whispering overhead as the wind stirred. The path was familiar, but his chest felt tighter than ever, as if the night itself were pushing him toward the cliff.

When he emerged from the trees, the stars greeted him.

They burned sharp and countless across the sky, mirrored faintly in the restless dark of the sea. The moon stretched silver across the water, a path leading nowhere and everywhere. Chifuyu exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he stepped onto the open ground.

Here, he could breathe. Here, he could remember his mother’s stories, could imagine the world as more than duty and silence.

He thought he was alone.

But a voice broke the night.

“You’ll fall if you stand that close to the edge.”

Chifuyu froze.

A figure sat perched on the rocks a short distance away, legs dangling dangerously over the drop. Moonlight caught on dark, unruly hair that spilled wild across his shoulders, and when the figure turned, sharp eyes glinted like sparks in the night.

The stranger grinned. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Chifuyu’s breath caught. He had never seen anyone here before. This place had always been his alone — a sanctuary untouchable by the world beyond. And yet, here was someone who looked as if he belonged more to the sea than to solid ground.

“…Who are you?” Chifuyu managed, his voice low but steady.

“Just a guy enjoying the view,” the stranger said easily, leaning back on his hands. “The stars look better from here than anywhere else.”

Chifuyu hesitated. He should have turned back. The heir of the Matsuno family was not meant to speak with strangers in the night. But the words slipped from him before he could stop them.

“They always have.”

The stranger tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly — not unkind, but sharp, as though he were studying Chifuyu. Then his grin widened. “So you come here often?”

Chifuyu’s lips parted, but no reply came. He didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to give anything of himself away. And yet, he couldn’t look away from the stranger’s smile, from the careless way he sat as though the cliff belonged to him.

Instead of answering, Chifuyu moved closer, lowering himself into the grass a safe distance away. His eyes lifted toward the sky.

The stars were the same, endless and cold. But tonight, they felt different.

The silence stretched until the stranger spoke again, his voice rough but easy.

“Y’know, my mom used to tell me the stars were like lanterns. Said they guided people through the dark.”

Chifuyu’s chest tightened. The words echoed too close to his own memories, to his mother’s voice on this very cliff.

“…Mine told me the same,” he said softly, surprising himself.

The stranger glanced at him, and for the first time, the grin softened into something else. Something warmer.

They sat like that for a long while — not speaking much, not needing to. The waves crashed below, the stars turned slowly above, and the night carried them both.

For once, Chifuyu did not feel alone.

It was nearly dawn when the stranger finally rose, brushing grass from his clothes.

“Guess I’ll see you around, star-gazer,” he said, flashing one last grin before turning toward the shadows of the grove.

Chifuyu sat frozen in the grass, watching him go.

The manor would be waking soon. His father’s eyes would be waiting, sharp and unyielding. The silence would press in again.

But for the first time, Chifuyu carried something with him.

Not just the stars.

 Not just the sea.

A voice. A grin. A presence that refused to be silent.

And he found himself hoping, against all reason, that he would see the stranger again.

Chapter Text

Chifuyu told himself he wasn’t waiting.

He left the manor as always, his steps light and measured, his body moving through the motions of a secret he had long perfected. The air was cool, the path up the hill familiar. The branches overhead whispered, the earth smelled faintly of sea-salt and pine.

He told himself he wasn’t expecting anything different.

And yet, when the trees opened and the cliff stretched before him, his heart lurched.

The rocks were empty. The sea roared below, the stars burned above — but no figure sat on the edge, no voice greeted him.

Of course. It had been foolish to think otherwise. Whoever that stranger was, he must have been passing through. This cliff, this solitude, belonged to no one but Chifuyu. It always had.

Still, he lingered, sitting down in the grass with a heaviness he hadn’t expected. The stars blurred faintly in his vision. He blinked hard, trying to focus.

Then a rustle broke the night.

“You again.”

The voice was rough, familiar — and it made Chifuyu’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t name.

He turned. The stranger emerged from the shadows of the grove, carrying himself with the same careless ease as before. Moonlight traced along his sharp grin, his dark hair falling untamed around his shoulders. He dropped into the grass a short distance away, as if this had always been his spot.

Chifuyu stared, unable to stop himself. “…You came back.”

The stranger snorted. “Course I did. Stars aren’t as good anywhere else.”

Chifuyu looked down quickly, hoping the night hid the heat in his cheeks. He forced his gaze upward, to the sky.

They sat in silence for a while, the stranger leaning back on his elbows, Chifuyu hugging his knees loosely to his chest. The waves below were steady, a rhythm older than words.

This time, it was Chifuyu who spoke first.

“Why here?” he asked softly. “There are other cliffs. Other beaches.”

The stranger tilted his head toward him, eyes glinting. “Why you here?”

The question caught Chifuyu off guard. His lips parted, but no answer came. He could not say the truth — that this place was the only remnant of his mother, that it was the only space where he could breathe.

“…I like the stars,” he said instead.

The stranger grinned, sharp and easy. “Then we’re the same.”

The words lodged in Chifuyu’s chest, simple yet startling. He could not remember the last time someone had said we’re the same.

He let the silence stretch, but it no longer felt heavy.

The stranger plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between his fingers. “So, star-gazer. You always this quiet, or are you just shy?”

Chifuyu glanced at him, startled. “I’m not—” He cut himself off. His first instinct was to deny it, to craft the polite answer expected of him. But here, with the night air cool against his skin, the words felt wrong. He looked away, the stars flickering above. “…Maybe both.”

The stranger laughed, rough and genuine. The sound startled Chifuyu again, not because it was loud but because it felt real, unrestrained.

“You’ve got a funny way of answering,” the stranger said. “But I like it.”

Chifuyu’s chest warmed in a way that unsettled him. He pressed his lips together, unsure how to respond.

They fell into another silence, but this one carried no weight. The stranger stretched out on his back, arms folded beneath his head, gazing up as if the stars belonged to him. After a moment, Chifuyu followed, lying down with his hands resting lightly on his stomach. The sky opened endlessly above them.

The stranger’s voice drifted up. “See that one?” He pointed toward a cluster near the horizon. “Looks like a wolf, don’t it?”

Chifuyu squinted. “A wolf?”

“Yeah.” The stranger traced the stars with his finger. “There’s the head, see? And the tail, stretched out like it’s running.”

Chifuyu followed the line, and slowly, he could see it — a rough shape, wild and sharp against the sky. “…I suppose it does.”

The stranger smirked. “Told you. Wolves always find their way into the stories.”

Something in his tone tugged at Chifuyu, but he let it pass. He only watched the stars, the imagined wolf running forever against the dark.

The minutes stretched, soft and endless. For the first time in a long while, Chifuyu’s body felt light, as though he weren’t carrying invisible chains.

When the horizon began to pale faintly, he pushed himself up. The stranger sat as well, brushing grass from his clothes.

“You gonna be here tomorrow?” the stranger asked suddenly.

Chifuyu froze. The question was casual, almost careless, but it struck through him like lightning. No one had ever asked that of him before — not as if his presence mattered.

“…Yes,” he said quietly. “I will.”

The stranger’s grin returned, sharp and certain. “Good. Then I’ll see you, star-gazer.”

He rose, striding toward the grove without another word. Chifuyu watched him vanish into the shadows, the grass still bent where he had sat.

Alone again, Chifuyu turned his gaze skyward one last time. The stars were fading against the light of dawn, but his chest was strangely full.

For once, the silence did not feel empty.

Chapter Text

The day bled slow, as all days did.

Chifuyu sat through lessons and meals with the same practiced composure, eyes lowered, voice measured. He felt his father’s glance once across the table, sharp as a blade, and quickly returned to the silence expected of him. The rest of the family spoke around him as though he were part of the furniture — always present, never belonging.

By evening, the weight in his chest pressed so tightly he could hardly breathe. The hours passed until the sky darkened, and once again, his body carried him down the familiar hidden path.

The grove opened, the cliff spread before him, and —

“There you are, star-gazer.”

The words landed on him like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Baji was already there, perched on the rocks with one leg dangling over the edge. His grin flashed in the moonlight as if he’d been waiting.

Chifuyu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “…You’re early.”

“Couldn’t miss my favorite view, could I?” Baji leaned back on his hands, eyes flicking toward Chifuyu before he added, “And I don’t just mean the stars.”

Chifuyu blinked, startled. The heat rose quickly in his face, and he looked away too fast. “…You shouldn’t say things like that.”

Baji laughed, a rough, unrestrained sound that seemed to wrap around the cliff itself. “Why not? You’re easy to tease.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

Chifuyu turned to glare at him, but Baji’s grin only widened, all sharp edges and mischief. The indignation in Chifuyu’s chest tangled with something else he couldn’t name, and before he knew it, the corner of his mouth betrayed him — the faintest upward curve.

Baji caught it instantly. His eyes gleamed. “Was that a smile?”

Chifuyu stiffened. “No.”

“It was.”

“I don’t—”

“You smiled,” Baji cut in, leaning forward like a wolf scenting blood. “And it suits you, star-gazer. Should do it more often.”

Chifuyu’s mouth opened, then closed again. His composure crumbled. And when Baji let out another laugh, so full of life it filled the night, Chifuyu felt his own chest break open — and for the first time in years, he laughed.

It startled him. The sound felt strange in his throat, unfamiliar, like a part of himself he’d forgotten existed.

Baji’s eyes softened at once, though his grin remained. “See? Knew you had it in you.”

Chifuyu pressed a hand against his mouth as though to stop it, but it was too late. The cliff had already heard him, and the stars above bore silent witness.

The two of them sat down in the grass together, the air between them changed — lighter, warmer, though Chifuyu’s cheeks still burned.

“Alright,” Baji said, stretching his legs out and folding his arms behind his head. “Since you laughed, I’m making it my mission to keep you doing it.”

Chifuyu gave him a sidelong glance. “That sounds… exhausting.”

“Not for me,” Baji replied easily. “I’m good at this.”

Chifuyu almost rolled his eyes, but the urge was strange, almost foreign. He leaned back on his hands, letting the cool night air brush against his face.

Above them, the stars burned fiercely, endless and far.

“Look at that one,” Baji said suddenly, pointing toward a cluster near the zenith. “Tell me it doesn’t look like a rabbit.”

Chifuyu followed his finger, brows furrowing. “…A rabbit?”

“Yeah. See, the ears are there. And the body—”

“That looks nothing like a rabbit,” Chifuyu interrupted, a rare boldness in his voice.

Baji whipped around to stare at him, then burst out laughing. “You’re impossible.”

Chifuyu couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. “…It’s true.”

They went back and forth for a while, Baji insisting on ridiculous shapes among the stars — a dragon with crooked wings, a fish with an enormous tail, a wolf with an oversized snout — while Chifuyu refuted every single one, his voice gaining a little more confidence each time.

The waves crashed below, steady and endless, but the night felt alive in a way it never had before.

At one point, Baji nudged his shoulder lightly, not rough but solid. “See? Told you. You’re fun when you loosen up.”

Chifuyu froze at the contact, his body stiffening out of instinct — yet he didn’t pull away. Slowly, his gaze lifted to the stars again.

“…I don’t remember the last time I laughed,” he admitted quietly.

Baji turned to look at him, but Chifuyu kept his eyes fixed upward, as if the confession belonged only to the sky.

“Guess that means I’m special,” Baji said after a moment, his voice rough but softer than before.

Chifuyu’s lips curved again despite himself. He didn’t answer, but the silence that followed felt warm — not heavy, not empty. Just full.

The night stretched until the horizon hinted at dawn. They rose together, brushing grass from their clothes.

Baji gave him that same grin, but this time it seemed less sharp, more real. “Same time tomorrow?”

Chifuyu nodded before he could think better of it. “…Yes.”

“Good,” Baji said simply, as if there had never been a question. He turned toward the grove, lifting a hand in a careless wave before vanishing into the trees.

Alone again, Chifuyu stood at the edge of the cliff. The sea below roared its eternal rhythm, the stars above faded against the coming light.

But the echo of his own laughter lingered in his chest, fragile and alive.

For once, he did not feel like a shadow in his own life.

Chapter Text

The manor was suffocating.

The day stretched endlessly — tutors with dull voices, servants with careful words, the faint scrape of silverware at dinner where silence spoke louder than conversation. Chifuyu sat through it all with his hands folded neatly, his head bowed just enough.

His father’s eyes brushed over him once, sharp and dismissive in the same glance.

It was nothing unusual. But tonight, the dismissal felt heavier. Because Chifuyu knew there was another world waiting. One with salt wind and stars instead of chandeliers. One where he could laugh without fear.

By the time darkness fell, his chest ached with urgency. He slipped away, silent and practiced, his feet carrying him down the familiar path to the cliff.

And there he was.

Baji sat in the grass, plucking at strands as though weaving something only he could see. When he noticed Chifuyu, he grinned — careless, bright, like the world could burn and he wouldn’t mind so long as the stars stayed.

“You’re late,” he teased.

Chifuyu’s lips curved faintly. “Or you’re early.”

Baji laughed, tossing the grass aside. “Fair enough.”

They sat together, the night wrapping around them. The sea crashed below, the stars burned above. For a while, they traced constellations again, arguing over shapes. Baji insisted one cluster was a horse; Chifuyu said it looked more like a bent spoon. The banter was easy, flowing, and Chifuyu’s laughter came quicker now, though always with a quiet surprise — as though he still couldn’t believe it belonged to him.

Yet between the laughter, something lingered.

At one point, Baji turned his head, eyes catching the starlight. “You always sneak off here, don’t you?”

The question landed softly, but it struck deep.

Chifuyu froze. His instinct was to deny, to mask — the noble heir should never speak of things unbecoming. But with Baji’s gaze steady on him, the lie withered.

“…Yes,” he admitted at last. His voice was low, nearly lost to the sea. “Since I was young.”

Baji tilted his head, waiting.

Chifuyu’s throat tightened. He wanted to say more — about his mother, about her voice weaving stories beneath these very stars, about how the cliff was the only place that still carried her warmth. But the words caught, fragile and dangerous.

Instead, he said, “…It’s the only place I can breathe.”

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable, but heavy. Baji didn’t laugh this time. His eyes softened, though his grin remained faint at the edges.

“Then it’s a good thing I found it too,” he said simply.

The words should have been nothing — casual, tossed like another joke. But Chifuyu felt them settle in his chest, heavy and strange. He didn’t know what to say.

They lay back in the grass after that, staring upward. The stars seemed sharper tonight, the air clearer. But Chifuyu’s thoughts tangled with shadows.

Every laugh, every glance, every shared silence — it was more than he had ever been given inside the manor walls. And the more he tasted it, the more unbearable his days became. The polite smiles, the silent meals, his father’s cold eyes — they pressed harder now, because he had something to compare them to.

The ache lodged in his chest, sharp and quiet.

“What are you thinking?” Baji asked suddenly, his voice rough in the stillness.

Chifuyu hesitated. His instinct was silence, the shield he had always carried. But something about the stars, about the warmth at his side, pulled the truth closer to the surface.

“…That I wish it could always be night,” he murmured.

Baji turned his head, watching him. For a moment, neither spoke. The waves below roared endlessly, as if mocking the smallness of his wish.

Then Baji let out a low chuckle. “Night’s good. But you’d miss the sun if it never came.”

Chifuyu closed his eyes. “…I don’t think I would.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, raw and aching. He bit his lip, but Baji didn’t press.

Instead, the older boy stretched out, folding his hands behind his head. “Then I’ll make sure you’ve got plenty of stars. Enough to last you through the daylight.”

Chifuyu turned his face toward him, startled by the ease in his tone. The promise meant nothing, and yet — it felt like everything.

The night passed too quickly after that. Dawn crept along the horizon, soft and pale. They rose in silence, brushing grass from their clothes.

When Baji flashed his usual grin, Chifuyu returned it faintly, though his chest ached.

He walked back to the manor in the dim morning light, the path long and familiar. But when the walls rose before him — tall, cold, unyielding — the weight of them pressed harder than ever.

The laughter of the night still lingered in his chest, fragile and bright. And that was the cruelest part of all.

Because now he knew what freedom felt like.

 And he had to return to a cage.

Chapter Text

Morning brought no peace.

Chifuyu rose when the servants knocked, dressed in the embroidered silk his father preferred, and moved through the motions of his day with the careful grace expected of him. Lessons blurred together — etiquette, politics, recitation of history — but his mind wandered, drifting toward waves and stars.

It was at breakfast that his father noticed.

The long table stretched between them, lined with silver and crystal. His stepmother and younger half-sister spoke in hushed tones at the far end, their laughter practiced, proper. His father, as always, sat at the head.

“You’re quiet,” the lord observed, his voice cutting through the clatter of utensils.

Chifuyu froze mid-bite. He lowered his eyes. “…Forgive me, Father.”

“I did not ask for apology.” The man’s tone sharpened, steel beneath silk. “I asked for speech.”

Chifuyu’s throat tightened. He searched for something — anything — acceptable to say. But his father’s gaze pinned him in place, cold and expectant.

At last, Chifuyu forced out, “The lessons yesterday were… thorough. I am still reflecting on them.”

A pause.

Then his father’s lip curled, a ghost of disdain. “You are too soft-spoken. A Matsuno heir should not hesitate to fill silence.”

The words stung, though Chifuyu bowed his head. “…Yes, Father.”

The rest of the meal dragged on in heavy quiet. When it finally ended, Chifuyu retreated to his lessons, burying himself in practice until the sun slipped west. But the weight of his father’s gaze lingered, pressing against his skin long after he’d escaped the hall.

By evening, the ache in his chest grew unbearable. He needed the stars. He needed the sea.

He waited until the manor dimmed, lanterns flickering low, and slipped down the servant passageways. His steps were light, careful, the way they had always been. But tonight, a flicker of unease chased him — as though shadows watched from the corners.

At the side gate, he paused to listen. The courtyard lay silent, the breeze stirring the trees. Still, he hesitated.

He told himself it was foolish. He had walked this path for years without consequence. Yet his father’s voice echoed in his mind — sharp, cold, suspicious.

With a steadying breath, Chifuyu pushed forward.

The gravel crunched beneath his shoes, loud in the quiet. He winced, adjusting his stride. The garden wall loomed ahead, and freedom with it.

Then—

“Chifuyu.”

The voice froze him where he stood.

He turned slowly. A servant girl stood near the walkway, a basket in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw him, recognition sparking. For a moment, neither moved.

Chifuyu’s heart pounded. If she spoke, if she told—

But the girl only bowed her head quickly, as though she hadn’t seen him at all, and hurried the other way.

He exhaled, trembling. His palms were damp, his body tense. He didn’t know if she would stay silent, didn’t know if tonight’s freedom had already betrayed him. But he couldn’t stop now.

He slipped through the gate, into the dark grove, and hurried down the hidden path.

By the time the cliff opened before him, his breath was ragged. But the sight waiting there nearly broke him with relief.

Baji sat on the rocks, tossing stones into the sea. When he noticed Chifuyu, his grin flared.

“Took your time, star-gazer.”

Chifuyu let out a shaky laugh, more fragile than he intended. “…I was delayed.”

Baji tilted his head, studying him. Something in Chifuyu’s face must have betrayed the weight of his night, because the older boy didn’t press with jokes this time. He only patted the grass beside him.

Chifuyu sank down, his body still trembling faintly. For a long moment, he stared at the waves, listening to their endless crash.

“You alright?” Baji asked at last, voice softer than usual.

Chifuyu hesitated. The lie rose to his lips, the polite mask he wore in daylight. But under the stars, it faltered. “…No.”

The word slipped out raw. Fragile.

Baji leaned back on his hands, gaze steady on him. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here.”

Chifuyu turned toward him, startled by the ease of it. No judgment, no demand, just a truth spoken like a promise.

The ache in his chest loosened. He let out a slow breath and tilted his head back, letting the stars fill his vision.

For a while, neither spoke. The waves roared, the wind carried salt, and Chifuyu’s trembling stilled.

He had almost been caught. His father’s shadow pressed heavier than ever. But here, at least, the air was his own.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The stars seemed closer that night.

Chifuyu lay back in the grass, the cliff’s edge a dark line beyond his vision, the sky spilling wide above him. Beside him, Baji stretched out as though the whole world belonged to him, hands folded behind his head, hair spread wild.

For once, Chifuyu didn’t speak. The waves crashed below, the wind whispered through the grass, and silence rested between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable — far from it. It was the kind of quiet that held weight, as though the sea itself had leaned in to listen.

“You’re wound tight,” Baji said at last, voice lazy but sharp.

Chifuyu blinked, turning his head slightly. “Am I?”

“You breathe like you’re waiting for someone to shout your name.”

Chifuyu’s chest stilled, caught. He looked away quickly, eyes fixed on the stars. “…Maybe I am.”

Baji didn’t laugh. His gaze lingered, but he didn’t push. Instead, he shifted closer, his shoulder brushing Chifuyu’s. The touch was casual, careless — but Chifuyu felt it burn through the cool night air.

“Whatever’s chasing you,” Baji said, softer now, “it doesn’t reach here.”

Chifuyu’s throat tightened. He wanted to believe that. For a moment, lying here with salt on his lips and warmth at his side, he almost did.

“You speak as if you know,” he murmured.

Baji’s grin flickered faint, wry. “Don’t have to know. I can see it.”

The words stole Chifuyu’s breath. He was so used to masks, to careful performances, that the thought of being seen — truly seen — left him unmoored.

His hand curled against the grass. “…I shouldn’t be here.”

Baji tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Then why are you?”

The question landed heavy, cutting through every excuse he had rehearsed. Chifuyu stared up at the sky, his heart hammering. Why was he here? Because the manor suffocated him. Because the cliff was the only place that still held his mother’s warmth. Because in Baji’s presence, the loneliness that had gnawed at him for years seemed to ease, even if only for a night.

“…Because I can breathe here,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper.

Baji was silent for a beat. Then, without warning, he laughed — not mocking, but bright, rough, alive. The sound made Chifuyu’s chest loosen, even as his cheeks burned.

“That’s all you need, isn’t it?” Baji said. “A place to breathe.”

Chifuyu turned toward him, startled. The older boy’s grin softened at the edges, the usual sharpness gentled by the night. For the first time, Chifuyu noticed the lines of tiredness beneath Baji’s eyes, the shadow of something unspoken.

“You say that,” Chifuyu murmured, “like you understand.”

Baji’s gaze flicked toward the sea, his grin still in place but thinner now. “Maybe I do.”

Chifuyu waited, curious, but Baji said nothing more. The silence returned, heavy but not empty. It was a silence that hummed, that held the weight of secrets neither of them were ready to share.

Their shoulders stayed pressed together. The warmth of it seeped into Chifuyu’s bones, anchoring him. He realized, with a start, that he didn’t want to move.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves fill him. For the first time in years, his chest eased fully, no tightness, no fear. Just the night. Just the stars. Just the steady presence beside him.

When he opened his eyes again, Baji was already watching him.

The moment hung between them, unspoken, delicate. Chifuyu’s breath caught, his pulse loud in his ears. Baji didn’t look away.

Then — slowly, deliberately — Baji tilted his head back toward the sky, as though the moment had never existed.

Chifuyu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

The night stretched on, slow and endless. They traced constellations again, their voices softer than usual. The teasing was there, but it lingered, gentler, weighted with something beneath the words.

By the time dawn brushed the horizon, Chifuyu felt the ache return — the dread of returning to walls and silence. But for once, the weight was softer. The memory of warmth pressed against his shoulder lingered, steady and bright.

And he knew now, without question, why he came here night after night.

Not just for the stars.

 Not just for the sea.

 But for the boy who made him feel real beneath them.

Chapter Text

The sea was restless that night, waves crashing harder against the rocks below. The wind tugged at Chifuyu’s hair as he stood near the cliff’s edge, arms wrapped loosely around himself.

Baji was already there, as always — crouched on the rocks like some wild creature, skipping stones into the black water.

“You’re late,” Baji said without looking up.

“I had lessons,” Chifuyu replied, lowering himself onto the grass. “My father was… thorough today.”

Baji finally turned, grinning. “That’s noble talk for ‘he was an ass,’ isn’t it?”

Chifuyu blinked, then looked away quickly, lips pressed together. “…Something like that.”

The grin widened. “You’re too polite, you know that? One of these days, I’m gonna drag something sharp out of you.”

Chifuyu shot him a look, caught between exasperation and… something else. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Because watching you crack would be fun as hell.”

Before Chifuyu could answer, Baji leapt to his feet. His energy seemed to crackle against the night, restless as the sea. Without warning, he strode to the very edge of the cliff.

“Wait—” Chifuyu started, alarm shooting through him.

Baji didn’t pause. He spread his arms wide, leaning forward dangerously over the abyss. “Think I can fly?” he shouted against the wind, his voice bright with reckless glee.

Chifuyu scrambled up, his heart in his throat. “Stop! You’ll fall!”

Baji only laughed, rocking forward on the balls of his feet, hair whipped wild by the wind. The sea roared beneath him, merciless.

“Don’t—!” The word tore from Chifuyu’s chest, sharper, louder than he meant. His hands shot out before he thought, grabbing Baji’s sleeve, yanking him back.

Baji stumbled a step into him, laughter breaking free like thunder. “Damn, you should’ve seen your face!”

Chifuyu’s heart was still hammering, his grip tight on Baji’s sleeve. “That isn’t funny!” he snapped, his voice raw, stripped of all its usual composure. “You could have— you—”

His words broke off, his chest heaving.

Baji stared at him, laughter fading into something softer, something curious. For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he grinned again — but it wasn’t sharp this time. It was warm. Delighted.

“There it is,” Baji said quietly. “Finally. The real you.”

Chifuyu froze. His face burned, his hand still clutching Baji’s sleeve. He wanted to pull away, to retreat behind silence and composure. But Baji’s gaze held him there, steady and alive.

“You—” Chifuyu’s voice faltered, tangled. He looked away quickly, but his hand didn’t let go. “…You’re infuriating.”

Baji laughed again, loud and unrestrained, the sound rolling into the night. But it wasn’t mocking. It was free, bright, and it wrapped around Chifuyu’s chest until the sharp edges of panic dulled.

For the first time, Chifuyu felt himself laugh too — startled, shaky, but real. The sound spilled out before he could stop it, carried by the salt wind.

The moment cracked wide open.

They sank onto the grass together, shoulders brushing, still breathless from laughter. Chifuyu pressed his hand to his chest, trying to steady his heartbeat. Baji stretched back against the earth, grinning at the stars as though he had just conquered the night itself.

“You’re reckless,” Chifuyu muttered, but his voice lacked bite.

“And you’re alive,” Baji shot back.

Chifuyu turned toward him, startled.

Baji’s grin softened, just a fraction. “Don’t waste it hiding.”

The words settled heavy, sinking deeper than Chifuyu wanted to admit. He looked away, his cheeks warm, but the tension in his body eased.

The night stretched around them, different now. Lighter. Warmer. Their laughter still echoed faintly in the air, stitched into the sound of the sea.

Something had shifted.

They weren’t just two strangers meeting at the cliff anymore.

They were something more — bound by a secret laugh, by a wild

moment on the edge of the world.

Chapter Text

The cliff felt different after laughter.

Chifuyu found himself returning the next night with an unfamiliar lightness in his chest. His father’s words still pressed on him during the day, the manor’s silence still cut into his ribs, but the memory of Baji’s wild grin and his own startled laugh clung like warmth to his skin.

When he reached the cliff, Baji was sprawled in the grass, hands behind his head, staring up at the stars as though they belonged to him. He turned his head lazily at Chifuyu’s approach, a grin tugging at his mouth.

“Thought maybe you’d be too mad to show up again.”

Chifuyu sat down beside him with a quiet huff. “You’re lucky I didn’t push you off the cliff myself.”

Baji laughed, loud and unbothered. “There he is — the sharp-tongued version. I like this one better.”

Chifuyu rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward. The air between them was easier tonight, looser, as though the chaos of last night had cracked something open.

They lay in silence for a while, watching the constellations emerge one by one. The sea below whispered and crashed, steady as breath.

After a long stretch, Chifuyu spoke first. “My mother used to bring me here.” His voice was softer than he intended, words carried by the wind.

Baji turned toward him slightly, eyes catching on the change in tone. He didn’t interrupt.

“She would tell me stories,” Chifuyu continued, gaze fixed on the horizon. “About heroes, and journeys, and… places far from here.” He paused, his throat tightening. “She said the stars carried them — that if I ever felt lost, I could find them in the sky.”

The night hushed around them. Baji didn’t laugh, didn’t tease. He only watched, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

Chifuyu exhaled, a touch self-conscious. “It’s foolish, I suppose. I’m too old for stories.”

“Not foolish,” Baji said, voice rough but certain. He shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “The stars are all anyone’s got out here. Stories keep you from forgetting who you are.”

Chifuyu blinked at him, surprised. “You sound like you’ve thought about this before.”

Baji gave a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I have.”

The silence that followed was different — weighted, intimate. Chifuyu felt the urge to ask more, but something in Baji’s posture stopped him. He recognized the same guardedness he carried himself, the same wall of unspoken truths.

So instead, he asked gently, “What about you? Why do you come here?”

Baji’s grin returned, easier now, though there was a shadow beneath it. “Because the sea reminds me I’m alive. Because no one tells me what to do here. Because…” He trailed off, shrugging. “It’s quiet.”

Chifuyu tilted his head, studying him. “You don’t seem like someone who likes quiet.”

That earned a laugh, low and amused. “Maybe I don’t. But sometimes it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Their eyes caught then, held for a fraction too long. Chifuyu’s chest tightened, his pulse quickening. He looked away quickly, fixing his gaze on the stars again.

But the warmth lingered — in the brush of their shoulders, in the comfort of words shared, in the heavy silence that no longer felt suffocating.

They talked more as the night stretched on. Not about the things that weighed deepest — not about fathers or secrets, not about blood or belonging — but about small things. Favorite constellations. Foods they liked. Stupid childhood habits.

Chifuyu found himself smiling more than he had in years.

At one point, Baji plucked a piece of grass and stuck it between his teeth, leaning back with a grin. “Bet you’ve never broken a rule in your life.”

Chifuyu bristled. “That isn’t true.”

“Really? Then tell me — what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

Chifuyu hesitated, then admitted, “Once… I stole sweets from the kitchen.”

Baji burst into laughter so hard he had to clutch his stomach. “That’s it? Gods, you’re hopeless.”

Chifuyu tried to scowl, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “It was a serious matter at the time.”

“Serious matter,” Baji repeated mockingly, shaking his head. “You’re going to kill me, star-gazer.”

But there was no malice in the words. Only fondness.

By the time dawn tinged the sky pale, Chifuyu felt a strange ache in his chest — not dread this time, but reluctance. He didn’t want to leave.

He glanced at Baji, who was watching the sea with a faraway look, hair tangled in the breeze.

For the first time, Chifuyu realized something simple and terrifying.

This boy wasn’t just someone he met on the cliff.

 He was becoming someone he couldn’t imagine the nights without.

Chapter Text

The sea wind was sharp that night, carrying the smell of salt and fish from the harbor. Chifuyu had barely settled on the cliff when Baji appeared out of the shadows, energy crackling off him like a storm.

“You,” Baji said, pointing at him as if Chifuyu had done something wrong. “Get up. We’re going.”

Chifuyu blinked. “Going? Where?”

“Into town.”

Chifuyu frowned. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I said no.”

Baji grabbed his wrist without waiting for further argument, tugging him to his feet with infuriating ease. “Too late. You’re coming.”

Chifuyu stumbled after him, protesting with every step down the rocky path. “This is absurd— I don’t belong wandering around at night— someone might see—”

“Exactly,” Baji cut in, grinning. “Someone might see. Thrilling, isn’t it?”

“It’s reckless!” Chifuyu snapped, though his heart was already hammering with something he refused to name.

The harbor town was still awake when they reached it, lanterns swinging in the wind, voices carrying from taverns. Baji moved through the narrow streets like he owned them, shoulders loose, grin wolfish. Chifuyu trailed behind like a tethered cat, stiff and tense.

Baji stopped at a food stall, eyes gleaming at the skewers laid out. He glanced at the vendor, who was busy arguing with a fisherman, then at Chifuyu.

“Hungry?”

Chifuyu stiffened. “Don’t even—”

Too late. Baji snatched two skewers, shoved one into Chifuyu’s hand, and bit into his own with satisfaction.

Chifuyu froze. “You can’t just—”

“Relax,” Baji said through a mouthful. “I’ll pay next time. Maybe.”

Chifuyu’s eyes darted to the vendor, terror clutching his chest. “We’re going to be caught!”

And as if fate were listening, the fisherman shouted, “Oi! You little thief!”

Baji’s grin widened. “Run.”

Before Chifuyu could react, Baji grabbed his arm and yanked him into the street. They bolted through the winding alleys, lantern light flashing across their faces. Chifuyu stumbled, nearly dropping the stolen food, while Baji’s laughter tore through the night like music.

“You’re insane!” Chifuyu yelled, breathless.

“Maybe!” Baji whooped, dodging around a cart. “But you’re still running with me!”

Chifuyu’s protests dissolved into frantic breaths as they careened around corners, feet pounding against the cobblestones. A dog barked, someone shouted after them, and still Baji dragged him forward, hair flying wild in the wind.

At some point, Chifuyu realized his own lips had split into a grin. He hated himself for it — hated the exhilaration flooding his veins — but it was there, undeniable. His heart raced not only with fear, but with something dangerously close to joy.

They ducked into a narrow alley, pressing against the wall as the fisherman ran past, cursing. Baji was bent over, laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

Chifuyu shoved his arm weakly. “You’re unbearable.”

Baji straightened, breathless, grinning so wide it almost hurt to look at. “But you’re smiling.”

Chifuyu’s face heated. He tried to school his expression back to seriousness, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, still twitching upward.

“I— It was the absurdity of it,” he muttered weakly. “Not your doing.”

“Liar,” Baji said, leaning closer. “You loved it.”

Chifuyu’s chest tightened. He wanted to argue, to deny, but the truth burned too hot in his blood. He had loved it — the chaos, the laughter, the dizzying freedom of being no one’s heir, no one’s obedient son. Just a boy running through the night with another boy who didn’t care about rules.

“Maybe a little,” Chifuyu admitted, so softly he hoped the wind would steal the words.

But Baji heard. His grin softened into something brighter, something dangerously genuine.

“Good,” he said simply.

They sank onto the steps of a shuttered shop, still catching their breath. Baji leaned back, looking entirely at ease, while Chifuyu held the stolen skewer awkwardly in his hands.

“You should eat,” Baji said.

“I shouldn’t even have this,” Chifuyu muttered, but he bit into it anyway. The savory taste spread across his tongue, startlingly good after the bland refinement of manor meals. His eyes widened despite himself.

Baji laughed. “Tastes better when it’s stolen, huh?”

Chifuyu almost rolled his eyes, but instead he found himself laughing quietly, the sound strange and fragile in his own ears.

The world felt different in that moment — sharper, wilder, alive in a way the manor never was. For the first time, Chifuyu thought maybe the stars weren’t the only place his mother’s stories could live.

Maybe freedom had a heartbeat.

 And maybe, right now, it was sitting beside h

im with a wild grin and fire in his eyes.

Chapter Text

The night air still hummed with the remnants of their flight through town. Chifuyu’s legs ached from running, his chest still tight from laughing harder than he ever had. When they reached the cliff again, both of them collapsed into the grass as if the earth itself was pulling them down.

For a while, the only sound was the rush of waves below and their uneven breaths. Chifuyu lay on his back, staring up at the sky, the stolen taste of grilled meat still lingering on his tongue.

“I should be furious,” he muttered finally, though there was no heat in it. “I’ve never done something so— so reckless.”

Baji stretched out beside him, hands behind his head, grin still feral and bright. “And yet, you don’t regret it.”

Chifuyu turned his head, scowling. “I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to,” Baji said easily. “I saw the way you smiled.”

Chifuyu’s face warmed, the memory striking sharper than he wanted to admit. He looked away quickly, pretending to study the constellations. His mother used to trace them out for him, naming the heroes and creatures that lived among the stars. For years, he’d only ever found solace in those stories. But tonight, there had been another kind of story—one he was writing in real time, with laughter and stolen food and pounding footsteps echoing through the harbor streets.

It unsettled him. It thrilled him.

“I felt…” Chifuyu began, then faltered, the words heavy in his throat. “I felt alive. Like I wasn’t… bound to anything for once.”

Baji’s grin softened. He rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand, studying Chifuyu as if he were something rare. “That’s because you were alive. Finally.”

Chifuyu scoffed faintly, though his voice lacked conviction. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is,” Baji said, matter-of-fact. “Life’s not meant to be cages and orders. It’s meant to be—” He swept his free hand wide at the sky, at the sea, at everything around them. “This. Chaos. Adventure. Whatever the hell you want it to be.”

Chifuyu let the silence stretch. He wanted to argue, to remind him that life wasn’t like that for everyone. Not for heirs of noble houses. Not for bastards pretending to be legitimate. But the words tangled and died before they left his mouth.

Instead, he whispered, almost to himself, “My mother used to tell me the stars held heroes. That they carried adventures, whole worlds I’d never see.”

Baji’s eyes flicked to the sky, then back to him. “Then she was right.”

Chifuyu turned toward him, startled by the certainty in his tone.

Baji held his gaze, the wild grin slipping into something steadier, something that almost scared Chifuyu with its intensity. “You want to see them, don’t you? The worlds beyond this cliff.”

Chifuyu’s lips parted. His heart stuttered, caught between fear and longing. “I—”

Baji reached out then, plucking a blade of grass and rolling it between his fingers as if to soften the weight of his next words. “Then I’ll show you. One day. I’ll take you past this cliff, past this town, past all the cages they keep you in. I’ll show you the world your stars are hiding.”

The words struck Chifuyu like the sea wind, sharp and overwhelming. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t breathe. No one had ever spoken to him like that before—not with duty, not with contempt, but with promise. With possibility.

“You can’t promise something like that,” he said weakly, though his voice trembled more from hope than disbelief.

Baji smirked, though his eyes stayed serious. “I just did.”

Silence stretched again, but this one was warm, filled with the rhythm of waves and the quiet thrum of something new weaving between them.

Chifuyu turned back to the stars, afraid of what might show on his face if he kept looking at Baji. But the words stayed with him, bright and dangerous: I’ll show you the world your stars are hiding.

For the first time in years, the cliff didn’t feel like an escape from his life.

 It felt like the edge of something beginning.

Chapter Text

The manor was already awake when Chifuyu returned in the gray wash of dawn. Servants moved briskly through the corridors, carrying trays, polishing silver, their voices hushed but urgent. He slipped inside through the back gate, brushing stray grass from his sleeves, still tasting the night on his lips—laughter, stolen food, Baji’s voice echoing in his ears: I’ll show you the world your stars are hiding.

It had felt real, that promise. For the first time in his life, he had believed in something beyond the manor walls. But as soon as he stepped into the great hall, reality surged back like cold water.

His father was already seated at the head of the dining table, posture stiff, eyes unreadable. His stepmother sat beside him, her smile sharp and thin, like a blade hidden in silk. The air carried a tension that had nothing to do with morning rituals.

“Chifuyu,” his father said without looking up from his cup of tea. “Sit.”

Something in his tone made Chifuyu’s pulse quicken. He obeyed silently, lowering himself onto the cushion across from them.

The meal began in heavy silence. Only the sound of chopsticks against porcelain broke the air. Chifuyu tried to eat, but his throat felt tight, his stomach restless with unease. The servants lingered longer than usual along the edges of the room, their heads bowed but their ears sharp.

Finally, his father set down his cup. The sound was final, like a hammer striking wood.

“It is time,” he said, his voice measured, heavy. “Time for you to fulfill your duty as heir.”

Chifuyu’s chopsticks paused mid-air. He looked up slowly. “My… duty?”

His stepmother’s smile widened. “You will be married, Chifuyu. The agreement has already been arranged.”

For a moment, the words didn’t make sense. Married. Arranged. His chest went hollow, as though the air had been pulled from the room.

“To whom?” he asked, though his voice was hoarse.

“Daughter of the Kurokawa family,” his father answered. “Merchants of considerable wealth and influence. Their ships run across the eastern waters. This marriage will secure ties that will ensure the Matsuno name endures another generation.”

Chifuyu’s blood ran cold. The irony burned—ships, the sea, freedom—and here his father sought to use them as chains.

“No,” Chifuyu whispered, the word escaping before he could stop it.

His father’s gaze snapped to him, sharp as a whip. “What did you say?”

Chifuyu’s hands curled into fists against his lap. For so long he had endured in silence, played the obedient heir. But last night’s laughter still echoed in him, and the stars still shone in his memory. He couldn’t smother it. Not now.

“I said no,” he repeated, stronger this time. “I won’t marry a stranger. I won’t—”

The blow came before he saw it. His father’s hand struck him across the face, sharp enough to knock him sideways onto the tatami. The sound cracked through the hall, and even the servants froze.

Chifuyu’s cheek burned. His chest heaved as he pressed his palm against the floor, forcing himself upright. His father’s shadow loomed over him, eyes burning with fury.

“You think you have a choice?” His father’s voice was low, dangerous. “You are nothing but a bastard born of shame. Were it not for my mercy, you would have been cast out with your whore of a mother. Everything you have—the roof over your head, the clothes on your back—was given to you. You will repay it. You will honor this family. Or you are nothing.”

The words cut deeper than the blow. Chifuyu’s breath trembled in his chest. He thought of his mother’s soft voice beneath the stars, telling him he was her pride, her light. He thought of Baji’s grin, his promise of a world beyond this cliff. Both collided against his father’s venom, crushing him between what he wanted and what he was told to be.

“I…” His voice cracked. He wanted to shout, to fight back, but fear and duty clamped around his throat. “…understand.”

His father sneered, straightening as though the matter were finished. “Good. The betrothal will be announced within the week. You will meet the girl tomorrow. Do not disgrace me further.”

The servants stirred at last, returning to their quiet duties as though nothing had happened. His stepmother sipped her tea, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

Chifuyu sat rigid, his cheek throbbing, his chest burning. Inside, something twisted and coiled tight, like a knot pulling at the edges of his soul.

That night, when the manor finally fell into silence, he slipped away to the cliff again. The stars were waiting, indifferent and endless. But tonight, they offered no comfort. His mother’s stories felt distant. Baji’s promise felt impossible.

And yet… as he sat there, staring into the night, his fingers brushed the grass where Baji had once leaned, where his laughter had filled the air.

“I can’t,” Chifuyu whispered to the wind, though whether he meant he couldn’t obey or couldn’t escape, he wasn’t sure.

His chest ached with both.

Chapter Text

The morning after the announcement came like a verdict. Chifuyu was dressed in his finest hakama, attendants fussing over every crease and strand of hair until he hardly recognized himself in the polished bronze mirror. The reflection staring back was the obedient heir the Matsuno name demanded—not the boy who had laughed in the streets, stolen food, or whispered dreams beneath the stars.

When the sliding doors of the guest hall opened, he rose and bowed as rehearsed.

The Kurokawa daughter stepped forward, gliding with the practiced grace of someone born into expectation. She was delicate-featured, her eyes dark and solemn, her kimono adorned with blossoms stitched in silver thread. Behind her, her father watched with calculating eyes, measuring every detail of the heir he was selling his daughter to.

“Chifuyu-sama,” she greeted softly, bowing low.

“Matsuno Chifuyu,” he answered, voice even but distant, returning the bow.

From that moment, the next few days blurred into a rigid rhythm. They were ushered into the gardens for walks among the manicured pines, servants trailing a careful distance behind. They sat across lacquered tables, sharing tea while their fathers discussed trade routes and profits, never once acknowledging the children’s presence except to remind them of their duty.

The girl—Kurokawa Airi, he learned—was everything his stepmother would praise. Polite, articulate, reserved. She carried herself with the air of someone who knew her place and accepted it without protest.

But her acceptance chafed at Chifuyu more than disdain ever could.

One afternoon, as they sat beneath a pavilion overlooking the koi pond, Airi broke the silence that had stretched between them.

“You don’t speak much,” she said, her voice gentle but direct.

Chifuyu kept his eyes on the rippling water. “There isn’t much to say.”

Airi’s lips curved faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “That’s all right. I know what this is. We are not here to speak; we are here to… align.”

The word tasted bitter. Align. Like the clicking of gears in a machine. Like cages being fitted together.

“You don’t mind?” Chifuyu asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

She tilted her head slightly, considering him. “Mind? Of course. But what I want has no bearing. I was told from childhood I would marry where my father chose. So were you, I imagine.”

Chifuyu’s hands curled against his knees. He thought of his father’s voice, cold and cutting: You are nothing but a bastard born of shame. He thought of the sting on his cheek that still hadn’t faded.

Airi studied him for a moment longer, then looked away. “We don’t have to love each other. We only have to play our roles.”

Her words fell like stones in his chest. He didn’t answer.

The days passed in this quiet suffocation. Every moment was scheduled, every interaction observed. There was no room for him to slip away, no excuse to return to the cliff. At night, he lay awake in his chambers, staring at the ceiling while the stars outside went unseen. The air felt too still, too heavy, and the memory of Baji’s laughter flickered like a candle in a storm—fragile, already fading.

By the third day, he realized with a jolt that he had not seen the sea once since the meeting began. The thought hollowed him out.

At dinner that evening, his stepmother spoke sweetly of the future—of unions and prosperity, of the Matsuno and Kurokawa names woven together like threads of the same fabric. His father’s silence was a weight more suffocating than her words.

Chifuyu sat rigid, chewing rice that tasted like ash, nodding where he was expected to nod. Across the table, Airi’s expression never wavered. She too had perfected the art of existing quietly in chains.

But when their eyes met, just briefly, Chifuyu saw it—the faint, flickering resignation. Not cruelty, not malice. Just surrender.

And that, more than anything, filled him with dread.

Because if he accepted this, if he let the days continue, then one day he too would wear that same resigned mask. One day, he would no longer even think of cliffs or stars or promises spoken in wild laughter.

One day, the boy who had longed for freedom would be gone.

That night, he sat alone in his chamber long after the lamps had been dimmed, fists clenched against his knees. He couldn’t remember the sound of the sea. He couldn’t remember the exact curve of Baji’s grin. Even the stars seemed distant.

For the first time in his life, he was afraid of forgetting.

Chapter Text

Baji leapt from the manor wall like a shadow unchained, the soles of his boots hitting earth with a muted thud. The night air was damp, thick with the scent of the sea drifting up from the harbor. He exhaled slowly, letting the rush of the moment drain through him.

And yet—his pulse didn’t calm.

His lips still burned with the memory of the kiss. The stunned look in Chifuyu’s eyes. The way the kid had gasped, trembling against him, like no one had ever touched him like that before.

“Shit…” Baji raked a hand through his hair as he disappeared into the trees. “What the hell am I doing?”

He should have left the second he saw the steward’s shadow in the hall. Should have cut his losses, slipped back into the night, and told Mikey it had been nothing but wasted time. That’s what a good right-hand man would have done.

But instead he’d gone back—pulled by something reckless, uncontrollable. Something that made his chest ache and his throat tighten in a way he didn’t recognize.

Chifuyu Matsuno. The noble’s son who looked fragile as glass but carried grief in his eyes heavier than iron. The boy who’d told him the truth tonight—about the engagement, about the cage his father was building around him.

The boy who had kissed him back, even if he’d been too shocked to admit it.

Baji’s grin crept across his face despite the turmoil twisting in his gut. “He’s mine. Whether he knows it yet or not.”

By the time the ship came into view at the edge of the docks, the grin had hardened into something wolfish. Lanterns burned low along the mast, casting shadows across the water. His crew was still awake, voices carrying over the waves—rowdy, impatient.

And at the center of it, perched on the railing like a bored cat, was Mikey.

Baji sighed. Of course.

“Oi, Keisuke!” Mikey’s voice cut through the night the moment Baji’s boots hit the deck. His sharp eyes gleamed in the dark, too knowing, too sharp. “You’re late.”

“Had business,” Baji muttered, waving a hand as he strode across the planks.

“Business, huh?” Mikey tilted his head, gaze narrowing. “Funny. You look like someone who just stole something.”

Baji froze mid-step. His smirk wavered, then snapped back into place. “Tch. Always paranoid, huh, Mikey?”

“Not paranoid,” Mikey said simply. “Just paying attention.” He leaned forward, chin resting on his hand. “So? Who is she?”

Laughter broke out from a few of the other men nearby. Smirks, nudges, whistles.

Baji’s jaw tightened. He rolled his eyes, baring his teeth in a grin to mask the sudden panic thrumming in his chest. “What makes you think it’s a girl?”

That earned louder laughter. One of the executives slapped the railing, another nearly spilled his rum.

Mikey, however, didn’t laugh. He just kept watching. Patient. Expectant.

Baji looked away first.

He stomped toward the lower deck, desperate to escape their eyes. But no matter how deep he went, the image of Chifuyu lingered—standing by the window in moonlight, eyes wide, lips parted from the kiss.

The kid had been trembling, caught between fear and something else. Something he didn’t have words for yet.

And Baji… Baji had wanted to devour him whole.

He slammed his fist against the wall of his quarters, frustration buzzing under his skin. “Dammit.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to care. Nobles were trouble, always. They looked at pirates like they were dirt, monsters, less than human. And yet—Chifuyu hadn’t looked at him like that. Not once.

He’d looked at him like he was dangerous, yes—but also like he was a lifeline.

And maybe that’s what scared Baji most of all.

He sat down heavily, elbows on his knees, running both hands through his tangled hair. His body still thrummed with heat from the kiss, from the taste of Chifuyu’s lips. He wanted more. He wanted to drag him out of that cursed manor and onto the deck of this ship, to show him the stars without bars, the sea without walls.

But it wasn’t that simple.

Mikey’s words echoed in his head: Who is she?

If the crew found out, if anyone found out… if Matsuno’s father found out…

The entire city would burn.

Baji chuckled under his breath, low and humorless. “Guess I’ve really done it now.”

A knock came at his door—sharp, impatient. He didn’t need to ask who it was.

“Keisuke,” Mikey’s voice drawled. “Don’t keep me waiting. You know I don’t like being lied to.”

Baji exhaled, pushing himself to his feet. He plastered on his trademark grin, wild and defiant. “Relax, captain. You’ll hear it all when I’m ready.”

But even as he said it, his chest ached. Because for once, he wasn’t sure if he could keep this secret much longer.

Not when every thought, every breath, every reckless beat of his heart was already pulling him back toward that window. Toward Chifuyu.

The night air inside the captain’s quarters was heavy with smoke and rum. The crew gathered around Mikey’s table, eyes flicking between the captain and Baji like wolves waiting for a signal.

“We’re leaving with the tide,” Mikey said, voice sharp and decisive. “The Navy’s already sniffing around. If we don’t vanish now, we’ll be cornered.”

The room groaned—men hated retreat, especially when it felt like running. But before the murmurs could settle, Baji slammed his hand down on the table, grin glinting like steel.

“One last raid.”

Heads turned. Eyes lit. The crew knew that look on him—wild, reckless, irresistible.

Draken’s voice rumbled like thunder. “This again?”

Baji leaned forward, black hair spilling around his face, grin carved sharp as a blade. “Don’t tell me you want to sneak out like rats. We should leave them something to remember us by. A blaze so big, the whole city’ll talk of it long after we’re gone.”

Mikey tilted his head, pale eyes unreadable. “And where exactly is this blaze supposed to be?”

For a moment, silence pressed tight.

Baji’s grin widened. “That’s for me to know. And for you bastards to enjoy when the time comes.”

The crew erupted—shouts, laughter, the pounding of mugs. They didn’t need the details, only the promise of chaos and glory.

But Mikey didn’t laugh. He just watched Baji. Calm. Quiet. Too sharp.

“You’re hiding something,” Mikey said softly, almost lazily.

Baji met his gaze, reckless fire sparking in his chest. He knew Mikey could see it—the truth he was biting down, the secret burning through him.

Still, his grin never faltered. “What I’m hiding,” Baji drawled, “is a damn good time. You’ll see.”

Mikey’s smirk curved slow, dangerous. “Then you better not disappoint me, Keisuke.”

The crew cheered, pounding the table like a war drum. Plans sparked, blades sharpened, rum spilled.

But Baji barely heard them.

Because the fire he planned to light wasn’t in a governor’s storehouse or a Navy dock. No.

It was in the glittering halls of the Matsuno manor.

 During the wedding.

 When every noble, guard, and snake in the city would be gathered in one place, ripe for ruin.

He could already picture it: chandeliers shattering, silks burning, music twisting into screams. And in the center of it all—Chifuyu, ripped from gilded chains, swept away before vows could cage him.

Baji’s grin turned feral.

One

last raid.

 One last fire.

 And this time, it would take everything.

Chapter Text

The cliff was too quiet.

Baji sat on the jagged rock ledge, arms draped over his knees, the salt wind tugging at his hair. The sea below roared, wild and endless — but up here, where a certain blond boy should have been, it was nothing but silence.

He dragged a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath. It had been… how long? Days? Weeks? He’d stopped keeping count after the third evening he’d sat here alone, waiting for footsteps that never came.

At first, he’d laughed it off. “The brat’s probably stuck with some lesson on manners.”

The second night, irritation. “What’s he so busy with, huh? Forgetting me already?”

By the fifth, it was something else. A knot tightening in his chest he didn’t have the words for.

His crew had noticed. Of course they had.

Mikey had caught him staring out at the shore after a raid, blood still on his knuckles. “Waiting for your little noble friend again?” he’d said, grinning like the devil.

Baji had thrown a punch that missed by an inch, but Mikey only laughed harder.

Even Takemichi, softhearted fool that he was, had tried to comfort him. “He’ll come back,” he’d said. “Maybe he’s just… trapped right now.”

Baji hadn’t answered. Because deep down, he knew. He knew.

Something had shifted.

The boy with the hesitant smile, the one who listened to his reckless dreams under the stars — he wouldn’t just vanish without a reason. Someone had pulled him away. Someone had caged him.

And the thought of that — of Chifuyu’s laughter being smothered by duty and his fire being chained — made Baji’s fists clench until his nails dug into his palms.

“Damn it, Chifuyu,” he muttered to the waves, voice rougher than he liked. “What the hell are you doing?”

That night, aboard the ship, the crew celebrated another raid. Wine flowed, voices rose, laughter rang across the deck.

But Baji sat apart, leaning against the railing, the stars overhead mocking him with their brightness.

He remembered the promise he’d made. I’ll take you on an adventure. I’ll show you the world beyond the starry cliff.

He’d meant it. Every word.

And if that promise was slipping away — if some gilded prison was swallowing Chifuyu whole — then maybe it was time to stop waiting.

The night was alive with noise — singing, sloshing mugs, the sharp clatter of dice on a barrel top. Toman thrived in chaos, and they wore it like second skin. But even in the heart of it, Baji’s mind kept drifting back to that damn cliff, to the way Chifuyu’s hair caught the moonlight, to the sound of his laugh when he pretended not to care.

A heavy thunk snapped him back. A bottle landed on the railing beside him, rolling until it tapped his hand.

“Drink,” came Mikey’s voice, lazy and sharp all at once.

Baji looked up. Their captain stood there, pale hair catching the torchlight, expression unreadable as always. He wasn’t drunk. Mikey rarely ever was.

Baji grabbed the bottle but didn’t drink. “What?”

Mikey tilted his head back toward the crew, then out to the horizon where the black water shimmered like oil. “We can’t stay here much longer.”

Baji’s jaw tightened. “The navy?”

“Not just them,” Mikey replied. His voice dropped low enough that only Baji could hear. “There are rumors spreading. That the ship is anchored too close to the Matsuno territories. The wrong eyes are watching. If we linger, we’ll have a fleet hunting us down by sunrise.”

Baji felt the weight of it sink in his stomach. Matsuno. That damn name again.

Mikey studied him, sharp gaze cutting deeper than Baji liked. “You’ve been… distracted.”

Baji snorted. “Tch. Since when do you care?”

“Since distraction gets men killed,” Mikey answered flatly. Then, after a pause, he smirked. “But I’ll let you handle it. You always do.”

With that, their captain turned, melting back into the raucous light and laughter.

Baji stared after him, bottle still gripped in his hand.

Matsuno.

He didn’t need anyone to spell it out for him. If the family had tightened its grip, if they were watching the seas and the cliffs — then that was exactly why Chifuyu had stopped coming.

The sea wanted him. Toman needed him. Mikey’s orders would soon push them far from these shores, maybe for weeks, months. But that knot in Baji’s chest only tightened.

Because if he left now…

If he left without even seeing Chifuyu one last time…

He’d be breaking the only promise he’d ever wanted to keep.

Baji tipped his head back, staring at the endless sky, the stars bright as silver nails hammered into black velvet. His fingers itched for a fight, for something to smash, to burn, to steal — anything to tear away the image of Chifuyu fading behind locked gates.

But the truth was heavier than iron: this wasn’t a fight he could win with fists or fire.

This one… this one was going to hurt.

Chapter Text

The manor never felt like home.

It was too quiet, too polished, too heavy with rules stitched into every carpet and curtain. Chifuyu’s footsteps echoed faintly as he crossed the grand hallway, his own shadow following him like a stranger.

The air reeked of incense and politics — the kind of suffocating perfume his father liked to fill the rooms with, as if the smoke could hide the rot underneath. Every servant’s glance slid away from him, polite, distant. Nobody spoke. Nobody ever spoke in this house unless it was to issue orders or bow to them.

In a few days, I’ll be married. The thought gnawed at him with every tick of the hall clock. Caged. Tied. Another pawn in Father’s game.

He kept walking until his steps carried him to the one place in the manor that wasn’t lined with polished gold or cold marble: the small garden tucked behind the east wing. Forgotten, overgrown, left wild because his father never cared for it.

But his mother had.

Chifuyu’s throat closed as he stepped into the shadowed patch of tangled roses, thorns long since untamed. He remembered the way she used to kneel there, dirt clinging to her skirts, hair pinned messily as she laughed at her own failed attempts to grow lilies. “Roses are stubborn,” she’d told him once, hands cradling his much smaller ones. “But they’re honest. They don’t pretend to be soft. You always know when they’re hurting you.”

That memory broke him.

He sank to his knees in the damp earth, hands shaking, and pressed his forehead against his arm. The tears came fast, hot and humiliating, but he couldn’t stop them. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, but the sob tore through anyway, muffled against his sleeve.

“I wish you were here,” he whispered into the dirt, into the roses that clawed at his skin. “I don’t know what to do.”

His chest heaved, grief spilling out of him like it had been waiting years for this chance.

Because the truth was simple, and cruel: without her, he was alone. His father’s sneer haunted him in every corridor, his orders carved deeper into Chifuyu’s back than any whip ever could. And now, this marriage — this farce of a union meant to tighten power, meant to erase him into someone else’s plan — it was breaking him piece by piece.

And worse than all of it…

He missed Baji.

The reckless grin, the warmth in his eyes, the way he spoke like the world outside the manor walls was bigger, brighter, waiting. Chifuyu clenched his hands in the soil, nails digging into the earth. He hadn’t been to the cliff since the engagement was announced. His father’s guards shadowed him at every turn. There was no freedom anymore, no escape.

The stars used to feel close when he sat beside Baji. Now they felt like they’d abandoned him too.

The wedding was days away. His cage was already closing. And in that dark, lonely garden, Chifuyu broke for the first time since his mother’s death, his voice trembling through the night.

“Mother… I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this.”

But the roses only whispered back with their thorns.

The garden air was damp, carrying the faint chill of night. Chifuyu sat hunched in the dirt, sleeves stained with earth, the once-pristine fabric clinging to his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself fall apart like this. The manor demanded masks, perfection, obedience — never cracks.

But here, where his mother’s roses grew wild and ungoverned, he let himself unravel.

The roses cut him when he leaned too close, shallow lines stinging across his palms, but even the pain was grounding. He whispered into the thorned silence, a boy’s voice carrying years of loneliness that no one in these walls had ever bothered to hear.

“Why did you have to leave me here? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

His mother’s absence was an old wound, but tonight it bled fresh. He could still remember her voice, soft and lilting, the one person who made the manor bearable. Her hands had been warm, gentle — and gone too soon. His father never let him mourn, never let him show weakness. Matsuno men do not weep. Matsuno men rule.

Chifuyu’s nails scraped into the soil. “I can’t rule anything,” he hissed, a bitter laugh breaking on a sob. “I can’t even breathe here.”

The truth of it cracked something inside him: he was choking. Choking on the weight of expectations, on his father’s cold eyes, on the marriage being carved into his future like a gravestone. Every corridor of the manor felt like a noose, every door another lock.

And yet…

Baji’s face burned behind his closed eyelids. That reckless grin. The way his voice lit sparks even in silence. The warmth of him pressed against Chifuyu’s shoulder, the memory of nights under the cliff’s starry sky.

The more he tried to push it away, the more it rooted inside him, stubborn as the roses at his knees.

“I want to see him,” he admitted to the night, voice breaking. “Just once more. Please.”

The garden gave no answer.

Somewhere in the manor, a bell tolled the late hour. His father’s men patrolled the halls, and the windows of the guest quarters still glowed faintly — his bride-to-be was inside, waiting for another day of polite small talk and strained silences. Chifuyu hadn’t even allowed himself to look at her properly. Not because she wasn’t kind — she was, in her own sheltered way. But because every glance at her reminded him of the chains fastened around his neck.

Chains that would drag him to the altar. Chains that would erase the boy who once laughed under the stars with a pirate who never belonged in this world of rules.

Chifuyu tilted his head back, staring at the sliver of moon tangled in clouds. His tears blurred it, made it shimmer like a false star.

“Baji…” His lips shaped the name without thought, soft, aching, as if speaking it aloud could summon him from the sea itself.

But no storm came. No footsteps. No wild voice to cut through the night.

Just silence.

Chifuyu wrapped his arms around himself, shivering though the night was warm. For the first time since his childhood, he prayed. Not to his father’s gods, not to the hollow idols in the shrine. But to his mother’s memory, and to the sea itself, to whatever cruel fate kept pulling him toward a boy he could never have.

If you’re listening, if you’re real… let me see him one more time. Just once more, before they take me away.

The wind stirred, carrying the faint salt of the ocean, though the sea was miles off. Chifuyu’s breath caught. He closed his eyes, clutching the ache in his chest, and the world spun smaller and darker.

When sleep finally dragged him down against the roses, his palms still stung with thorns, and his heart still whispered a name that the manor walls would never forgive.

Chapter Text

The dawn bled gray through the windows when Chifuyu woke, curled in the dirt of the garden. His body ached from the cold ground, his hands raw with thorn scratches. For a moment, dazed and heavy-limbed, he thought he was a child again—fallen asleep after running from the suffocating halls to hide among his mother’s roses.

But the slam of a door shattered that illusion.

“Chifuyu!” The bark of his father’s voice snapped through the air, sharp as a whip.

Chifuyu jerked upright, dust clinging to his clothes, shame already prickling hot beneath his skin. His father’s shadow cut across the garden path, flanked by two servants who avoided meeting Chifuyu’s gaze.

“You shame this family,” his father said flatly. No anger, no raised voice—just cold dismissal. Somehow, it burned worse than fury. “Do you think we can afford to have the groom stumbling into his vows with dirt under his nails?”

Chifuyu opened his mouth, then closed it. There were no words to give. Not ones his father wanted.

A hand clamped onto his arm, pulling him to his feet. “You will wash, you will change, and you will remember who you are. The Kurokawa family will arrive within the hour to discuss final details. You will not embarrass us again.”

The grip loosened only when Chifuyu was thrust back through the manor’s polished corridors, the walls gleaming like prison bars. Servants scrambled to draw a bath, pressing fresh silks into his hands. He let them guide him, their eyes flitting nervously, as though he were a dangerous animal barely tamed.

By the time he sank into steaming water, his reflection stared back at him: pale, hollow-eyed, with scratches like red ink scribbled across his skin. He looked nothing like the dutiful son, nothing like the perfect fiancé. He looked like a boy trapped in someone else’s story.

His father’s words still echoed. You will remember who you are.

But who was he, really? The obedient son? The future husband? The heir to a family that felt more like a cage? Or the boy who had once laughed under starlight with a pirate, who had once tasted freedom in the salt air?

The thought made his throat ache. He ducked under the water, wishing he could drown it all out—the wedding, the walls, the chains. When he broke the surface again, gasping, he whispered the name he couldn’t forget.

“Baji…”

The sound of it slipped through his lips like a sin. He clutched the edge of the tub, chest heaving, his pulse wild. It felt wrong to say it here, in this house that hated everything alive in him. And yet it was the only thing that felt true.

By the time the knock came at his door, he’d forced the name back into his chest, smoothed his face into something resembling calm. A servant announced that breakfast was ready, and that his father waited with the Kurokawas.

Chifuyu rose, dried, dressed. He slipped into silks the color of ivory and gold, their weight heavy on his shoulders. The fabric clung like chains.

Walking down the corridor, he could hear voices in the dining hall—the laughter of his future bride’s father, the measured tones of his own. They spoke of alliances, of trade, of power. None of it felt like it belonged to him.

When he stepped into the room, all eyes turned. His father’s gaze was sharp, expectant. The Kurokawa daughter offered him a polite smile, practiced and empty.

Chifuyu forced his lips to curve, bowing with mechanical grace.

Inside, his heart whispered treachery.
I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this.

But he sat down. He picked up his chopsticks. He played the role.

Only in the quiet between words did he let himself imagine salt on the wind, wild laughter, dark eyes that saw him not as a pawn, not as a son, but as something worth keeping.

And with every tick of the clock, every polite exchange, he felt the pressure coil tighter, dragging him closer to the altar.

Dragging him further from the cliff where his heart still waited.

The dining room smelled of lacquered wood and perfumed tea. A low hum of voices filled the air—his father’s precise tone, the Kurokawas’ indulgent laughter, the soft clink of porcelain cups.

Chifuyu slid into his seat like a shadow, spine straight, hands folded with the obedience drilled into him since childhood. Every motion felt rehearsed, detached, as though he were watching himself from afar.

The Kurokawa daughter sat across from him. She was elegant, her hair pinned with jewels, her gaze demure. She smiled at him the way a mask might: pleasant, symmetrical, devoid of life.

“It’s an honor to finally share a table, Matsuno-san,” she said, voice delicate.

Chifuyu inclined his head, his lips curving in what he hoped resembled a polite smile. “The honor is mine.”

The words were ashes in his mouth.

Her father boomed with laughter, praising the match, praising the future it promised. Chifuyu’s father echoed it with that cold, pride-laced certainty he always wore when discussing power and legacy.

Every time they said future, it pressed down on Chifuyu like an iron shackle. Your future. Your duty. Your family’s name. Not once did they ask what he wanted.

The Kurokawa daughter’s gaze flicked to him, studying him like a puzzle she was already resigned to solving. There was no malice there, only resignation. Perhaps she, too, was trapped in a script written long before she was born.

Still, it did nothing to ease the tightening in his chest.

A servant poured tea. The steam rose between them, and for a moment Chifuyu’s reflection shimmered in the surface of the cup. He hardly recognized the boy staring back—polished, painted, stripped of everything that had ever felt alive.

He thought of the cliff.
The stars.
The wild laughter of someone who made him feel as if the world could belong to him.

His chopsticks shook slightly in his hand. He clenched them tighter, forcing himself still.

“Chifuyu,” his father’s voice snapped, a warning wrapped in silk. “Say something of your hopes for this union.”

The room’s attention turned, sharp and heavy. Chifuyu’s throat constricted. His mind screamed I don’t hope for this. I don’t want this. I want—

Instead, he bowed his head slightly, words coming out flat and practiced:
“I hope that this marriage will strengthen the bonds between our families, and bring prosperity for generations to come.”

A murmur of approval swept through the table. His father’s mouth twitched in satisfaction. The Kurokawas nodded with pride.

But inside, Chifuyu felt something splinter.

It wasn’t anger. Not yet. It was quieter, heavier—a grief for the self he was losing. For the boy who once laughed until he couldn’t breathe, the boy who once lay in the grass and whispered promises with someone who felt like freedom.

As the conversation flowed around him, he barely heard a word. He watched their mouths move, their hands gesture, their faces smile. To them, he was no more than a piece on a board, moved into place for their game.

You will remember who you are. His father’s voice echoed again.

But who he was—the boy under the stars, the boy who wanted—was slipping further and further away with every polite bow, every hollow word.

By the time the meal ended, Chifuyu’s chest felt raw with unspoken things. He excused himself with practiced politeness, retreating down the endless corridors of the manor.

Only when the heavy doors closed behind him, shutting out their voices, did he let himself breathe. He pressed his back to the wall, his hands trembling.

I can’t do this. I can’t…

But the truth was cruel. The wedding was only days away. The pressure was building like a storm, and he was shackled at the center of it.

And worst of all—he hadn’t seen Baji. Not once.

The cliff had stayed empty. The night sky had offered him no escape.

He was alone, and the walls of the Matsuno manor felt tighter with every passing hour.

Chapter Text

The silence of the manor was different at night. During the day it rang with footsteps, with servants, with the sharpness of his father’s voice. But when the halls dimmed and lantern light flickered low, the house seemed to breathe, old and heavy, with shadows that remembered more than the people who lived there.

Chifuyu’s feet carried him without thinking. He moved past the family wing, past the doors he knew he shouldn’t open, until he stopped at one he hadn’t touched in years.

His mother’s room.

The wood was cool under his palm. He hesitated. It was forbidden—sealed off, like her memory, tidily hidden away so his father could pretend grief had no place here.

But tonight the weight in his chest was too much. He turned the handle.

The room opened with a sigh.

Dust clung to the air, stirring faintly in the moonlight. Everything was preserved as if she had only stepped out for a moment—her vanity still lined with jars of faded powders, her kimono chest pushed neatly against the wall, a half-finished embroidery frame resting in the corner.

Chifuyu stepped inside, his throat tightening.

The scent was gone—no trace of the soft perfume she used to wear—but his body remembered it. He remembered sitting at her feet while she hummed lullabies, remembered her hands weaving through his hair as she told him to be kind, to be gentle in a world that demanded hardness.

He sat down on the edge of the futon, the blanket still folded, untouched for years.

“Mother,” his voice cracked in the stillness, “what should I do?”

The words trembled in the air, unanswered.

He pressed his hands over his face, shoulders curling inward. He’d tried to carry himself with dignity, to pretend the suffocating mask his father gave him could be borne without cracks. But here, in the quiet of her room, the walls crumbled.

Hot tears slipped between his fingers.

“I can’t…” he whispered. “I don’t want this. I can’t be what he wants me to be. I don’t want to marry her. I don’t want to live like this.”

The silence swallowed him whole.

For the first time in weeks, he let himself unravel—grief for his mother, grief for the boy he used to be, grief for the freedom he’d tasted in laughter, in stars, in the company of someone wild and alive.

Baji’s face flickered in his mind. His grin, sharp and careless. The warmth of his hand pulling him forward into chaos. The promise, murmured under the stars: I’ll show you the world beyond the cliff.

The memory stung.

Because now, with the wedding looming, with chains tightening around his neck, he feared he’d never see that world. Never see Baji again.

He curled onto his side on the futon, clutching the blanket as if it might anchor him to something softer than the life he’d been forced into.

Eventually, his breathing slowed, though his chest ached with every inhale. The room was quiet, the manor heavy with sleep.

But Chifuyu’s heart refused to rest. It whispered rebellions in the dark. It ached for escape, for something more than the cage his father had built.

For a fleeting second, he let himself believe in that promise again. That maybe—just maybe—the cliff would not stay empty forever.

Chifuyu lay there on the futon, the blanket clutched to his chest as if it could breathe warmth back into his hollow ribs. His mother’s room had become a cocoon, shielding him from the oppressive demands of the manor, but he knew he couldn’t stay here forever. Come dawn, his father would expect him to wear a smile, to bow, to perform his role as though he weren’t splintering inside.

He closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling at his bones, but his mind would not quiet. Thoughts spun—his mother’s voice, soft like lullabies, interwoven with the sharpness of his father’s orders. And then Baji’s laugh cut through it all, bright and alive, so vividly that Chifuyu’s chest ached.

For the hundredth time that night, he asked himself what he wanted. Freedom? Love? A chance to live a life that wasn’t chosen for him? The answers terrified him because they all led to one name. One reckless smile. One pair of wild eyes.

His hand drifted to his face, fingertips brushing the dried salt of his tears. “I wish…” The whisper barely left his lips. “I wish you were here.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Too heavy.

Until—

Tap.

Chifuyu’s eyes snapped open.

The sound came again, soft but deliberate, against the paper screen of his window. He sat up sharply, his heart leaping into his throat.

Tap. Tap.

Someone was outside.

Every nerve in his body screamed with confusion. No servant would dare approach this wing at night. His father’s guards patrolled the grounds—no one could just wander this close. Unless—

He rose to his feet, legs unsteady, and crossed the room with careful steps. The knock came once more, almost playful now, as though the visitor knew he was standing just on the other side.

Chifuyu’s hand hovered over the frame, pulse hammering. Whoever waited beyond that paper wall carried with them either disaster… or salvation.

And with his breath caught in his chest, he slid the window open.

Chapter Text

Chifuyu’s heart hammered so loudly he swore the whole manor could hear it. “Baji… how—how did you even get in here?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, clutching at the window frame as though it might steady him. “This place is crawling with guards, and you just—what—waltz in like you own it?!”

Baji shrugged, casual, maddeningly unfazed. “What can I say? Walls don’t stop me. Neither do guards.” He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling as though he’d just pulled off a harmless prank rather than risked both their lives.

“That’s not funny,” Chifuyu snapped, though his voice cracked halfway. His chest felt too tight, his hands too cold. “If anyone sees you… if my father—” He bit down hard on the word, bile rising. “You can’t just appear here, not like this.”

“Why not?” Baji asked simply, stepping down from the ledge and into the moonlit room as though the danger wasn’t real. His presence filled the small space, wild and untamed, bringing the scent of salt and smoke with him. “I missed you.”

Chifuyu’s throat went dry. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Missed me…

“You’re—” he stumbled, anger and panic tangling in his chest, “—you’re reckless. Do you even think about what you’re doing? Do you think about what it does to me when you—when you just show up like this?!”

Baji’s grin faded, but only to something softer, something more dangerous. His eyes burned in the dim light, sharp and unreadable. “I think about you more than you realize.”

Chifuyu’s breath hitched, traitorously uneven. For a second, he couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear the weight of those words. He turned away, but his body betrayed him—his feet rooted to the spot, refusing to run.

“You should leave,” Chifuyu whispered finally, his voice thin. “Before someone finds you.”

Baji tilted his head, watching him with that same infuriating calm, as though danger were nothing but a passing breeze. “If that’s really what you want,” he murmured.

Chifuyu froze, because he didn’t know what he wanted. He only knew that the room felt different now, alive and burning, and that Baji’s presence made the silence unbearable.

Chifuyu kept his back turned, his breath caught somewhere between anger and fear. He heard the faint rustle of cloth as Baji shifted closer, and his pulse leapt traitorously.

“You haven’t been to the cliff,” Baji said at last, his voice low, the usual edge of mischief stripped away. “Not once. I thought maybe you were just busy… but then days passed. Weeks.”

Chifuyu swallowed hard, staring at the pale glow of moonlight on the floorboards. He couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“So tell me,” Baji continued, stepping closer until his shadow loomed against Chifuyu’s, “what the hell is really going on with you?”

Chifuyu’s hands trembled, but he forced them behind his back, gripping his wrist so tightly it hurt. “Nothing,” he whispered.

Baji’s scoff was sharp, humorless. “Don’t lie to me, Chifuyu. You’ve got this look in your eyes… like you’re carrying the whole damn world on your shoulders.”

Chifuyu’s chest ached. He wanted—needed—to tell him. To pour it all out: the engagement, the weight of his father’s cruelty, the suffocating prison of the manor. But the words tangled in his throat. “It’s complicated,” he said instead, his voice brittle.

“Complicated?” Baji pressed. He moved closer still, close enough that Chifuyu could feel the heat radiating from him, the wild freedom that clung to his skin like fire. “Try me. What’s keeping you away from me?”

Chifuyu’s breath hitched, and when he turned, Baji was right there, eyes burning into his like he could drag the truth out by force. The closeness unraveled something inside him. He pressed his lips together, fighting the sting in his eyes.

“I—” he faltered, the word cracking. “My father… he…” His throat closed up, the rest refusing to come out.

Baji’s gaze sharpened instantly, a flicker of something dangerous sparking behind his eyes. “Your father,” he repeated, low and simmering. “What about him? Did he—”

“No!” Chifuyu cut him off too quickly, panic lacing the word. He shook his head violently, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. “Don’t. Please. Just—don’t ask.”

For a long moment, the room fell into silence, so heavy it pressed against Chifuyu’s lungs. Baji didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then, quietly, almost too softly for someone like him, he asked:

“Are you in trouble, Chifuyu?”

The words pierced straight through him, raw and cutting. Chifuyu’s lips parted, but no sound came. His silence was answer enough.

Chifuyu’s silence stretched too long, and Baji’s eyes only darkened with suspicion. His chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, and finally—finally—he broke.

“My father,” he whispered, the words trembling out of him like glass about to shatter. “He… he’s forcing me into an arranged marriage.”

Baji froze.

Chifuyu squeezed his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms as though that pain could keep him steady. “It’s the Kurokawa family. Their daughter. Everything’s already set—papers signed, dates arranged. I didn’t have a choice.” His voice cracked, and tears burned at the corners of his eyes. “That’s why I stopped coming to the cliff. That’s why I couldn’t—” His chest hitched, and he pressed his hand over his mouth as though to choke the sob back down.

Baji’s expression flickered, a storm crossing his face—shock, anger, something deeper, darker. He stepped forward instinctively, reaching, but Chifuyu jerked back, his body trembling.

“I didn’t want you to know,” Chifuyu whispered, his voice breaking. “Because every time I thought about telling you, I thought… maybe I’d lose the only thing that made me feel alive.” He shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks now. “You don’t understand, Baji. This place—this manor—it’s a prison. And now they’ve locked the door forever.”

Baji’s jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth, his fists tight at his sides. For a moment he looked like he might tear the entire Matsuno estate down with his bare hands. Instead, he exhaled, low and fierce. “So you were suffering all this time, and you thought you had to do it alone?”

“I always have to do it alone,” Chifuyu snapped, though his voice was thick with tears. He collapsed back against the window frame, shoulders shaking. “I don’t have a choice. I’ve never had one. And now—” His voice faltered again, and he whispered, broken: “Now it’s too late.”

For a heartbeat, Baji said nothing. He just stared at Chifuyu, the fire in his eyes steady and unyielding, as though he could burn the entire world down for him. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His hands cupped Chifuyu’s face, rough thumbs brushing away the wetness beneath his eyes.

“Listen to me,” Baji said, his voice low, fierce, trembling with an intensity Chifuyu had never heard before. “I don’t give a damn about your father, or his stupid alliances, or any marriage papers. If you think I’m going to let them chain you up and take you away from me, you’re insane.”

Chifuyu blinked up at him, wide-eyed, the tears blurring his vision. “Baji…”

Baji leaned closer, his forehead pressing against Chifuyu’s. His breath was warm, his words scorching. “I meant what I said on the cliff, remember? I’ll take you beyond this place. Beyond all of it. That wasn’t just a pretty promise.” His voice cracked with something fierce, something real. “It’s you, Chifuyu. I’ll fight hell itself before I let you be locked away.”

The tears Chifuyu had tried so desperately to hold back spilled freely now. His hands, trembling and desperate, gripped the fabric of Baji’s shirt as though he’d drown if he let go. “You can’t say things like that,” he whispered, broken. “You can’t… you can’t mean it.”

But Baji only pulled him closer, fierce and unwavering. “I do.”

Chapter Text

Chifuyu’s throat felt tight as he confessed, the words tumbling out like glass shattering on the floor. His father, the engagement, the suffocating inevitability of it all—he poured it into Baji’s chest, his fists clenching at the man’s shirt as if he could hold himself together by sheer force.

When he finally broke off, shaking, Baji didn’t let go. His hand came up, steady on the back of Chifuyu’s neck. “So that’s what’s been eating you alive.” His voice was quiet, uncharacteristically so.

Chifuyu swallowed hard, eyes glassy. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to—drag you into it.”

“You already did.” Baji’s reply was simple, edged with something heavier.

Chifuyu blinked at him, startled.

Baji’s gaze sharpened, shadows and fire dancing together in his eyes. “Then it’s only fair I tell you my truth too.” His grip tightened, not harsh but enough to keep Chifuyu’s focus locked on him. “I’m not just some reckless bastard who shows up when it’s convenient. I’m a pirate, Chifuyu. And not just any pirate.” He leaned in, his breath brushing against Chifuyu’s ear, low and certain. “I’m Mikey’s right hand. Toman’s second.”

Chifuyu froze, every bone in his body turning cold.

The name alone carried weight. Toman. The power his father feared, the shadow every noble whispered about but never dared confront. The syndicate that ruled the sea routes, untouchable.

He stumbled back until his shoulder hit the window frame, his hands trembling. “You—You’re part of them?”

Baji didn’t look ashamed. He didn’t even flinch. He grinned—sharp, wolfish, dangerous—but his eyes held a strange softness that made Chifuyu’s chest ache. “Yeah. That’s me. Keisuke Baji, pirate, outlaw, Mikey’s right hand. That’s the life I live.” He tilted his head, hair falling into his face, and his voice dropped, rougher. “But when I’m with you, I’m just me. That’s all I wanted you to see.”

Chifuyu’s breath stuttered. His heart raced, torn between fear and something he refused to name.

“You should have told me sooner,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You should have—”

Baji stepped closer, and the night seemed to shrink around them. “Would it have changed a damn thing?” His eyes were burning into him, unflinching. “Would you have stopped meeting me under the stars? Stopped laughing with me? Or would you have run, just like everyone else does when they find out?”

Chifuyu’s lips parted, but nothing came out. His body betrayed him—frozen in place, caught between the instinct to flee and the pull of the man standing so close.

Baji’s hand lifted, his thumb brushing against Chifuyu’s jaw, rough and grounding. His voice softened, almost unbearably so. “Now you know. And I don’t regret telling you. Because I meant what I said before, Chifuyu. I’ll take you beyond that cliff, beyond all this.” His smile turned reckless, dangerous, like a vow carved into the dark. “I’ll tear down everything in my way if it means you’re free.”

Chifuyu’s chest ached with how much he wanted to believe him. His eyes stung, his breath catching on the edge of something he couldn’t voice.

Chifuyu didn’t know how long he had been standing by the window, staring at Baji with wide, unblinking eyes. His confession still rang in the air—sharp, heavy, impossible to take back. A pirate. Mikey’s right hand. It was as though the stars themselves had shifted out of place, their constellations rearranged into something dangerous, alluring, forbidden.

And Baji was still there, leaning forward with that maddening confidence, looking at him like none of it mattered. Like his truth was a blade he wielded carelessly, daring Chifuyu to step into the cut.

“Come with me.”

The words left Baji’s mouth with the blunt force of a cannon shot. No hesitation, no explanation, just an invitation that sounded more like a command.

Chifuyu blinked. “What?”

“Run away with me,” Baji said, steady, unwavering. “Tonight, tomorrow, whenever the hell you’re ready. Just… don’t stay here. Don’t let them chain you to a name, to a life you don’t want. You don’t belong in cages, Chifuyu.” His hand lifted, brushing against the frame of the window, close but not touching. “You belong out there. Free. With me.”

Chifuyu’s breath caught in his throat.

For a moment, he couldn’t find words. All he could think of was his father’s voice, cold and commanding; his fiancée’s hollow smile; the walls of the manor closing tighter every day. He thought of his mother’s room, the lingering scent of a life lost, the weight of everything he’d never said to her.

And then he thought of Baji—wild, dangerous, untamed. A man who could tear apart his world with nothing but a grin and a promise.

It was too much.

“I—” Chifuyu stumbled back, pressing his hand against his chest as though he could keep his heart from clawing its way out. “I can’t. I can’t just leave—”

“Why not?” Baji’s eyes burned with impatience, but beneath it, a flicker of something softer. Fear, maybe. Desperation. “You already said you don’t want this marriage. You’re breaking under it. So why not?”

“Because—” Chifuyu’s voice cracked. “Because it’s not that simple! I don’t even know who you are anymore! You’re… you’re a pirate, Baji. Do you know what that means for me? For—”

“Yeah,” Baji cut in, sharp. “I know exactly what it means. It means danger. It means blood. It means every noble in this rotten city will spit at my name and every guard will try to put a blade in my back.”

His gaze softened then, just barely. “But it also means freedom. It means loyalty, and a crew that’s family, and a life that’s mine to claim. It means I get to choose—and I’m choosing you.”

Chifuyu’s knees went weak. His mouth opened, closed. No sound came.

“I can’t…” he whispered.

Baji took a step forward. The window creaked under his weight, the night air slipping around them like a second skin. “You can. You just won’t.”

Chifuyu flinched. His chest ached. He wanted to scream at him, to demand why he’d said it like that—like the truth wasn’t tearing him apart from the inside.

But before he could speak, a knock echoed on the door across the room.

Both of them froze.

It came again, louder, followed by a muffled voice. “Chifuyu? Are you awake?”

His blood ran cold. It was his father’s steward.

Baji’s eyes flicked toward the door, sharp and calculating. The lines of his body shifted in an instant—predator turned fugitive. He leaned back, already preparing to disappear into the shadows.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, voice low and rough. His eyes darted back to Chifuyu, lingering for one breath, two. “Not now.”

Chifuyu’s chest tightened. “Baji, wait—”

But he was already turning to leave, one leg swinging over the windowsill, hair catching the pale light of the moon. His silhouette blurred against the night, untouchable, slipping away like smoke between fingers.

And yet—he stopped.

His head turned, strands of black hair falling across his face. His gaze locked on Chifuyu, and something wild, reckless, devastating sparked in his eyes.

Before Chifuyu could process, before he could even breathe, Baji doubled back.

He closed the distance in two strides, his hand catching the side of Chifuyu’s face. And then his mouth was on his.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant. It was fire and storm, the taste of danger pressed hard against his lips. Chifuyu gasped, trembling, his hands curling uselessly at Baji’s shirt. He wanted to push him away. He wanted to pull him closer. He wanted everything, all at once, and it terrified him.

Baji broke the kiss only to press his forehead against Chifuyu’s, his breath hot and ragged. “Think about it,” he whispered. His thumb brushed across Chifuyu’s cheek, achingly tender after the fire he’d just lit. “Think about us.”

Another knock rattled the door, impatient this time.

Baji smirked, wicked and soft all at once. “I’ll come back for you.”

And then he was gone.

Chifuyu stumbled back, fingers touching his lips as if to prove the kiss had really happened. His chest heaved, his pulse wild, his entire body burning with a thousand questions and no answers.

The steward’s voice called again, muffled through the door. “Young master?”

Chifuyu’s knees nearly gave out. He dragged himself toward the bed, throwing the sheets over his shoulders just as the latch clicked. The door creaked open, lamplight spilling into the room.

The steward peeked in, eyes narrowed. “I thought I heard someone speaking.”

Chifuyu forced a shaky breath, his voice barely steady. “Just… a dream. That’s all.”

The man lingered a moment longer before bowing stiffly and shutting the door.

Silence settled once more.

Chifuyu sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the moonlight spilling across the floorboards. His lips still tingled, his heart still raced. His mind whispered pirate, outlaw, dangerous—but his body whispered something else entirely.

And for the first time, he realized he was standing on the edge of a choice that could destroy him.

Chapter Text

The day arrived cloaked in silk and smoke.

Chifuyu sat motionless as attendants fussed over him, their hands deftly weaving layers of ceremonial robes around his body.

 Silk brushed against his skin like chains disguised as finery. Gold thread glinted in the lamplight, delicate cranes spreading their wings across the fabric.

“Hold still, young master,” one whispered, straightening his collar.

Chifuyu did not move. He did not speak. He stared into the mirror before him, into the eyes of a stranger. 

The reflection gazing back wore the face of the Matsuno heir—calm, dignified, obedient. There was no trace of the boy who once chased starlight at the cliff. 

No echo of the laughter Baji had coaxed out of him.

He wondered if Baji would have recognized him now.

The attendants stepped back, bowing. “You look splendid, my lord.”

Splendid. A lie wrapped in silk.

When they led him down the polished corridor, the air grew heavier with each step. 

The manor hummed with voices, with the rustle of robes, the scrape of sandals. Nobles had gathered from distant provinces, filling the great hall with a sea of silks and jewels. Incense burned thick, curling through the rafters, a haze of sanctity that smothered more than it blessed.

Chifuyu’s steps felt weighted, as though iron shackles clinked with every movement.

At the hall’s center, beneath the grand banners of the Matsuno and Kurokawa families, the bride waited.

The Kurokawa daughter stood in layers of pale silk, her face serene, her posture unyielding. Her eyes, though, betrayed her. When they met his, Chifuyu saw not joy, but resignation. She was as much a prisoner of this ceremony as he.

Their gazes lingered only a heartbeat before the officiant’s voice rang out.

“On this day, under the blessings of heaven and earth, the houses of Matsuno and Kurokawa are joined…”

The words blurred, each syllable pounding like a drumbeat in Chifuyu’s skull. He tried to focus, to breathe, but the walls seemed to close in, the air thick and suffocating. He thought of the cliff, the salt wind, the stars that whispered of freedom. He thought of Baji’s grin, reckless and wild, promising a world beyond.

I can’t do this.

The officiant turned to him. “Matsuno Chifuyu, do you vow to honor this bond, to carry your family’s name with duty and dignity?”

The room held its breath. All eyes pressed on him, waiting. His lips parted, a tremor of rebellion burning on his tongue—

—and the world exploded.

The great doors at the end of the hall crashed open with a thunderous bang, the wood splintering as if struck by a cannon. Smoke rolled in like a storm, followed by shouting, steel, and the unmistakable stench of sea salt and gunpowder.

Gasps and screams erupted among the nobles. Servants scattered, silk robes tangling in the chaos.

And through the haze, a figure strode forward.

Baji.

His hair was wild, loose around his shoulders, his grin sharp as a blade. A cutlass gleamed in one hand, its edge catching the light as though it burned with its own fire. Behind him, men poured in—his crew—mismatched coats, weapons drawn, the banner of Toman flashing amidst the smoke.

“The pirates!” someone shrieked. “It’s the Toman crew!”

Panic surged through the hall. Guards rushed to form a line, blades drawn, their shouts drowned in the roar of the raiders. Tables overturned, dishes crashed to the floor, incense burners spilled fire onto the mats.

But Chifuyu saw none of it.

All he saw was Baji.

Baji’s eyes locked onto him through the chaos—steady, unflinching, burning with something that made Chifuyu’s heart lurch in his chest.

Not a stranger. Not a dream. Not a lie.

A promise.

“Chifuyu!” Baji’s voice cut through the uproar like thunder. “I told you, didn’t I? The world’s waiting for us!”

The officiant stumbled back, shouting in alarm. The bride clutched her sleeves, eyes wide with terror. Lord Matsuno rose to his feet, his face twisted with fury.

And Chifuyu—torn between fear, disbelief, and something far greater—could only stand frozen at the altar as the world he knew crumbled around him.

Smoke curled toward the rafters. Steel clashed against steel. The air was fire and salt, chaos and freedom.

And at its heart, Baji stood grinning, a pirate crashing through gilded walls, a storm breaking chains.

The hall dissolved into bedlam.

Steel clashed against steel, the high-pitched ring of blades slicing through the air, followed by the guttural roars of men who lived for war. Nobles shrieked, their voices shrill as flocks of startled birds scattering from a storm. Servants fled, skirts tangling as they tripped over fallen dishes and toppled incense burners, smoke rising in oily curls.

Chifuyu did not move.

He stood at the altar like a figure carved from stone, silk robes heavy against his skin, his breath caught somewhere between his chest and throat. The officiant had already vanished, stumbling out of sight. The Kurokawa daughter shrank back, her wide eyes fixed on the chaos, while his father barked orders, fury sharpening his voice like a blade.

And still—Chifuyu could not move.

The world had split apart before his eyes. One half was the golden, suffocating cage of the Matsuno heir, steeped in incense and ceremony. The other half was fire, smoke, and salt—a storm that had forced its way into his carefully caged existence. And at its heart was Baji.

Baji, grinning like a wolf, hair flying as he swung his cutlass. The blade sang through the air, each movement reckless and precise all at once. Every guard who dared block his path was struck aside, whether by steel or by the sheer force of his presence.

For a moment, the scene didn’t feel real.

Baji was supposed to belong to the cliff, to the night, to laughter that lingered in secret beneath the stars. Not here, not in the gilded cage of Chifuyu’s life, breaking it apart with every step.

A shout tore through the air. One of the Matsuno guards broke past the pirates, rushing toward the altar. His blade flashed, raised high, eyes locked on Chifuyu.

Chifuyu’s breath caught. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even raise his arms to defend himself. His body felt bound by invisible cords, frozen between two lives.

The sword descended—

—and Baji was there.

Steel shrieked as Baji’s cutlass collided with the guard’s blade, the shock reverberating through the hall. With a vicious kick, Baji sent the man sprawling. His grin was feral, wild, but his eyes—those sharp, burning eyes—were fixed on Chifuyu alone.

“You just gonna stand there and let ‘em carve you up?” Baji barked, his voice carrying over the din.

Chifuyu’s lips parted, but no words came. His heart hammered so loudly it drowned out the battle.

Baji struck another guard aside, then surged up the steps to the altar. Blood streaked his sleeve, smoke clung to his clothes, and still, he moved like the chaos belonged to him—like the storm bent around his will.

When he reached Chifuyu, he didn’t pause. His free hand shot out, fingers closing around Chifuyu’s wrist. The contact was a jolt, burning through silk and skin alike, dragging Chifuyu back into the present.

Baji leaned close, his breath hot against Chifuyu’s ear, his voice low and sharp amidst the chaos.

“Enough standing still,” he growled. “Time to choose, Chifuyu.”

The hall roared around them—shouts, fire, steel—but in that moment, the world narrowed

to the grip on his wrist and the impossible truth that freedom stood before him, demanding an answer.

Chapter Text

For a heartbeat, Chifuyu couldn’t breathe.

Baji’s hand was hot against his wrist, steady and unyielding, as though he could drag the air back into Chifuyu’s lungs by sheer force of will. His words still rang in Chifuyu’s ears—time to choose—but his body betrayed him. His legs trembled. His throat burned with all the words he couldn’t say.

He thought of his father, whose glare bore down from the dais like a curse. Of the bride, pale and trembling, a stranger bound to him by duty and lies. Of the Matsuno name, heavy as an iron shackle.

And he thought of Baji—wild, grinning, fire in his eyes. A man who belonged to no one. A man who had already promised him the world beyond the starry cliff.

I… I can’t…

The hesitation rooted him where he stood. Fear slithered into his chest, heavy and suffocating. Even now, with freedom standing before him, his chains refused to break.

Baji’s grin flickered, something fierce and frustrated flashing in his eyes. “Tch. You really gonna make me do all the work, huh?”

Before Chifuyu could respond, Baji moved.

With a single motion, he swept Chifuyu off his feet, hauling him effortlessly into his arms. Chifuyu let out a startled gasp, his robes tangling as he clutched instinctively at Baji’s shoulders. The world tilted, the altar spinning beneath him, the chaos of the hall swelling into a storm of disbelief.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. “He’s taking him!”

“Stop them!” Lord Matsuno’s roar split the air, his voice cracking with fury.

Baji’s grin returned, sharp and merciless. He shifted his hold on Chifuyu, balancing him as though he weighed nothing, and turned to face the hall full of nobles and guards. With his cutlass gleaming in his free hand, he raised it high—then, with all the swagger of a pirate king, flipped his middle finger at the Matsuno family.

The gesture was obscene, brazen, and utterly Baji.

The hall erupted into shouts, but Baji was already moving, storming down the altar steps with Chifuyu in his arms. His crew surged to cover him, blades flashing, laughter ringing through the chaos as they cut a path toward the shattered doors.

“Outta the way, you bastards!” one of the pirates roared, kicking a guard aside.

“Make way!” another shouted, grinning as wildly as Baji himself.

The Matsuno retainers tried to rally, but the storm was already too strong. The Toman crew fought like wolves, a pack untouchable in their frenzy, and behind them the hall collapsed into a scene of ruin—tables overturned, silks torn, the air thick with smoke and fear.

Chifuyu clung to Baji’s shoulders, heart hammering so hard it drowned out the world. He should have been terrified. He should have resisted. And yet—he found himself staring up at the man carrying him, the reckless glint in his eyes, the feral grin stretched across his face.

Somewhere, deep beneath the panic and disbelief, something in Chifuyu broke free.

He’s really doing it.

They burst through the doors into the night, the sea wind rushing to meet them, cool and sharp against Chifuyu’s burning face. The moon hung low, silver light spilling across the courtyard, and for the first time in his life, the manor behind him felt small.

“Don’t look back,” Baji muttered, his voice rough but steady as he carried Chifuyu down the steps. “That place ain’t got nothin’ for you anymore.”

Chifuyu swallowed hard, the words tangling in his throat. He wanted to argue. He wanted to scream. He wanted to thank him.

Instead, all he could do was cling tighter, his silk sleeves fluttering in the sea wind as Baji carried him into the storm.

Guards poured into the courtyard, torches blazing, steel clashing as the manor echoed with the thunder of pursuit. Orders barked in sharp, furious tones—his father’s voice carried above them all, a roar that burned with rage.

“Don’t let them leave! Bring my son back—alive or dead!”

The words struck like a blade to Chifuyu’s chest. Alive or dead. His own father had spoken it, loud enough for the whole world to hear.

But Baji didn’t slow.

He charged down the steps with Chifuyu still in his arms, boots striking the stone in a pounding rhythm. His crew followed, a wall of steel and laughter, blades dripping, eyes bright with the wild thrill of battle.

“Go! Go! The ship’s waitin’!” one of them shouted.

“Cover Baji!” another barked, throwing a dagger that sank into a guard’s shoulder before the man could close the distance.

They burst through the gates and into the open night, the sea wind crashing into them with the smell of salt and freedom. Ahead, beyond the dunes and rocky path, the shore gleamed with firelight—the silhouette of a ship rocking gently against the waves, lanterns swaying at its mast like beacons in the dark.

Chifuyu’s breath caught. It looked monstrous and beautiful all at once, sails half-unfurled, wood gleaming black beneath the moonlight.

That was Toman’s ship.

Baji’s voice rang out, fierce and unrelenting: “To the docks! Don’t stop for anyone!”

The ground blurred beneath them, the shouts of guards growing louder as boots thundered in pursuit. Arrows hissed through the air—one grazing close enough that Chifuyu flinched, the wind of it sharp against his cheek.

Baji ducked behind a crumbling wall, crouching just long enough for two pirates to loose pistols at the archers. The blasts cracked like thunder, smoke clouding the air.

“Move!” Baji barked, adjusting his grip on Chifuyu before tearing forward again. His grin hadn’t faltered, though his chest heaved with exertion. “Almost there, Fuyu! You feel it? That sea breeze?”

Chifuyu clung to him, heart hammering. He wanted to scream, to demand what in the hell he was doing—but the words died against the sharp taste of salt on the wind. The manor’s walls loomed behind them now, shrinking with every step.

The path narrowed into the docks, where the ship waited like a beast ready to leap. Pirates were already aboard, shouting and hauling at the ropes, sails snapping as they filled with the night wind. The sea surged against the pier, waves crashing, as though urging them forward.

“Baji! Hurry your ass up!” a voice bellowed from the deck.

Baji laughed, low and savage. “Keep your pants on—I’m here!”

Guards spilled onto the docks just as Baji reached them, their torches casting wild shadows over the planks. One swung his blade high, blocking the gangplank. Baji snarled, shifting Chifuyu against his chest with one arm and swinging his cutlass with the other. Steel met steel with a deafening ring, sparks flying.

“Baji!” Chifuyu cried, fear choking his throat.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Baji snapped, shoving the man back with raw force before charging up the gangplank. “I’ve got you.”

The ship rocked beneath them as he leapt aboard, crew members shouting, pulling ropes, cutting ties. The sails swelled like the chest of some great beast about to roar.

“Push off! Now!”

The Toman crew roared in unison, shoving away from the docks. Oars dipped briefly into the water, steering them free before the wind caught the sails.

Arrows rained down from the shore. Some clattered harmlessly against the deck, one striking deep into the wood beside Chifuyu’s feet. He flinched, clutching Baji tighter, but the ship was already gliding forward, the distance widening with every heartbeat.

“Faster!” Baji barked, setting Chifuyu down at last but keeping a steady grip on his arm. “Let’s give ‘em a show, boys!”

The pirates howled in delight, some firing pistols back toward the docks, others jeering as the noble guards shook their weapons helplessly from the shore.

Chifuyu stumbled to the rail, breath shallow, eyes fixed on the shrinking silhouette of the manor. The torches looked like a scatter of stars, furious and frantic, as the waves swallowed their sound. His father’s shouts echoed faintly still, but the sea was louder—the crash of water against the hull, the whip of wind against the sails.

It was real.

The manor was behind him. The cliff, the stars, the secret nights—everything had led to this moment.

His hands trembled on the rail. Terror and exhilaration warred in his chest until he couldn’t tell them apart.

Baji came to stand beside him, still grinning despite the blood streaking his sleeve, despite the smoke clinging to his hair. He leaned on the rail with one arm, eyes flashing like the storm itself.

“Welcome aboard, Fuyu,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. “Told you I’d show you the world beyond that cliff.”

Chifuyu turned his head, staring at him, words tangled uselessly on his tongue. He didn’t know whether to curse him, to strike him, or to fall into the wild gravity of his smile.

The ship surged forward, cutting through the waves like an arrow. The shore faded. The manor shrank into a smear of lights swallowed by distance.

And for the first time, Chifuyu was truly unmoored.

Chapter Text

The manor was nothing more than a smear of firelight on the horizon now, swallowed by the restless sea. The sails groaned under the pull of the wind, ropes creaked, and the deck shuddered as the ship surged forward into open waters. Around them, the crew moved in rhythm, voices rough and sharp with orders, laughter, and the clang of boots against the planks.

The storm of the escape still crackled in the air. Chifuyu stood near the rail, every nerve in his body alive, the taste of salt sharp on his lips. His chest heaved, though whether from running, terror, or something stranger, he couldn’t tell.

His father’s words still echoed inside him. Alive or dead.

He gripped the rail until his knuckles whitened. He should have been crumbling, drowning in dread. He should have been shaking with fear of what came next. He should have been weeping.

Instead, a sound slipped past his lips.

A chuckle. Quiet at first, almost a cough. He blinked, startled at himself.

But then it bubbled again, harder to contain. A short laugh, then another, until his shoulders began to shake. He pressed a hand to his mouth, but it was useless. The laughter broke out of him like water from a cracked dam.

“Hah—hah—ahh, gods—” he gasped between breaths, his laughter spilling into the night air. “Did you see—? His face—!”

Heads turned. A few pirates paused, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. Others smirked, one or two chuckling themselves, though they had no idea what he meant.

But Chifuyu couldn’t stop. The images kept replaying in his head—the look of sheer fury on his father’s face, the chaos of silk and steel colliding in the manor, the way Baji had barreled through guards trained for years as if they were children playing at swords.

And then—gods—the memory of Baji lifting him up, carrying him like a sack of rice slung over his shoulder, all while flipping his family off as if centuries of Matsuno pride meant nothing at all.

It was absurd. Completely, utterly absurd.

He doubled over, gripping his stomach, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as his laughter grew wild, helpless. The sound of it mingled with the sea wind, carried across the deck like a strange kind of music.

The crew broke first. A ripple of chuckles spread among them, one pirate clapping his thigh, another shaking his head with a grin. Laughter, sharp and reckless, joined his own until the deck rang with it, like the echo of a tavern brawl won at last.

“Kid’s lost it,” one muttered, but he was laughing too.

Baji leaned against the mast, arms crossed, watching him with that wolfish grin stretched across his face. His hair was still damp with spray, his sleeve streaked with blood, but his eyes glowed with something gentler than battle-light.

“’Bout time,” he drawled, voice warm despite the rasp of exhaustion.

Chifuyu lifted his head, gasping through the remnants of laughter, cheeks flushed. “I—hah—you—you’re insane,” he stammered, pointing at Baji with a trembling hand. “Absolutely insane.”

Baji shrugged, unapologetic. “Maybe. But I got you out, didn’t I?”

The words cut through the laughter, steady and sharp. Chifuyu’s breath hitched. For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the slap of waves against the hull. His chest ached, still rising and falling from the storm of laughter—but the ache felt different this time. Lighter. Freer.

He looked back at the horizon, where the manor had vanished entirely, swallowed by distance and sea. His world—the gilded cage he’d been raised in—was gone. Shattered in one night of chaos.

And for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the crushing weight of it.

He leaned against the rail, letting the last of his laughter trickle into a quiet, trembling sigh. The sea wind tugged at his hair, cold and alive, stinging his flushed cheeks.

Baji pushed off the mast and came to stand beside him, their shoulders almost brushing. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he said softly.

Chifuyu hesitated, then nodded. “...It’s ridiculous.”

“Freedom always is.”

Their eyes met briefly, the space between them taut, before Baji’s grin returned, sharp and wild as ever.

“Get used to it, Fuyu,” he said, tilting his head toward the open sea. “This is only the beginning.”

Chifuyu’s lips parted, another small laugh trembling out of him, though softer now, edged with disbelief. He wasn’t sure if he was laughing at Baji’s words, or because—for once—they didn’t sound like a lie.

The first thing Chifuyu noticed when he woke wasn’t the sway of the ship, or the salty air pressing through the tiny window, or the distant calls of gulls.

It was the warmth beside him.

His breath caught, the world narrowing to the space of the narrow bunk. Baji was sprawled there, hair tangled into wild strands, lips parted faintly as he breathed slow and deep. The rough sheet had slipped halfway down his chest, exposing the sharp line of his collarbone and the steady rise and fall beneath it.

Chifuyu stayed frozen, wide-eyed, heart pounding against his ribs. He should move. He should turn away. He should—

But he didn’t.

His gaze lingered, tracing the unfamiliar sight of Baji at peace. Awake, Baji was all edges and fire—grinning too wide, laughing too loud, charging through life like a storm. But here, asleep, the storm had quieted. His face softened in a way Chifuyu hadn’t thought possible.

It tugged something deep inside him, something that ached and warmed all at once.

He thought of the cold, cavernous bedroom in the Matsuno manor, where silence pressed heavy against the walls. Thought of the way he’d grown used to waking alone, curling into himself for warmth. Thought of nights at the cliff, where the stars had been his only company after his mother’s voice had gone still forever.

For so long, loneliness had been stitched into him.

And yet here, with the creak of the ship’s hull, the hush of the waves, and Baji’s steady breathing filling the space, the ache was gentler. As though he was, if only for a fleeting moment, allowed to set it down.

Chifuyu’s fingers curled in the sheets. His throat was tight. He shouldn’t be watching. He shouldn’t want this.

But he did.

Baji stirred, rolling slightly onto his side. The sheet slipped lower, and Chifuyu’s breath stuttered. He tore his gaze away too late. Baji’s eyes cracked open, dark and heavy with sleep, but sharp enough to catch him.

A crooked grin curved his lips. “What,” he rasped, voice rough and husky, “been starin’ at me all night?”

Chifuyu flinched, color flooding his cheeks. “I—I wasn’t!”

“Mm.” Baji stretched lazily, catlike, and reached out to ruffle Chifuyu’s hair before he could duck away. “Don’t lie. You’re a terrible liar.”

Chifuyu scowled, swatting at his hand. “I wasn’t lying!”

Baji only laughed, low and warm. It filled the small cabin, pressed close, and left Chifuyu more flustered than before. He turned sharply toward the window, staring at the sliver of ocean beyond.

Silence slipped in then, softer than before. Baji didn’t push, didn’t tease. Just leaned back against the pillow, watching him.

After a moment, Baji’s voice came quieter, edged with something Chifuyu didn’t recognize. “Y’know… it’s weird.”

Chifuyu risked a glance. “What is?”

“Wakin’ up with someone here.” Baji shrugged one shoulder, his grin tugging smaller, almost shy. “Feels… good.”

Chifuyu’s chest clenched. His face burned hotter. Words tangled in his throat. He wanted to say something—anything—but all that came out was a strangled, “Oh.”

Baji snorted, amused by his awkwardness. But he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, steady and searching, until Chifuyu felt pinned in place by it.

And then the space between them shifted.

Chifuyu didn’t notice how close they were until he realized Baji’s hand had stilled on the sheets, only inches from his own. His breath hitched. Baji’s grin had faded, replaced by something heavier, something that made Chifuyu’s pulse jump and his stomach twist.

“Chifuyu,” Baji murmured, the name dragging low and rough from his throat.

Chifuyu’s lips parted, though he couldn’t find a reply. His thoughts tangled with the sound of waves and the pounding of his heart.

Baji leaned in first. Not sudden, not forceful, just steady—like he was giving Chifuyu time to pull away. His eyes stayed on Chifuyu’s, asking without words.

Chifuyu didn’t move. Couldn’t.

And then Baji’s lips brushed his.

The kiss was soft, tentative, so unlike the man it came from. It tasted faintly of salt and sleep, of something new and terrifying and impossibly warm.

Chifuyu’s eyes fluttered shut, his fingers clutching the sheets as if the world might fall away if he let go. His heart hammered, louder than the sea, louder than the creak of the ship.

When Baji drew back, only by a breath, he was grinning again—but softer, smaller, like the smile wasn’t for the world, just for him.

“Guess that answers it,” Baji said quietly.

Chifuyu blinked, dazed. “Answers what?”

“Whether you’ve been watchin’ me or not.”

Chifuyu flushed scarlet, hiding his face in his hands. “You’re insufferable.”

Baji laughed, warm and unguarded, and tugged his hands away just enough to press his forehead to Chifuyu’s.

Chapter Text

The kiss should have ended there.

It didn’t.

Baji leaned back in only far enough to watch Chifuyu’s dazed expression, the flush painting his cheeks, the way his lips parted like he wanted to protest but couldn’t find the words. That sight alone made Baji grin, and before Chifuyu could gather his wits, Baji kissed him again—deeper this time.

Chifuyu gasped, startled, and Baji took the chance to nip lightly at his lower lip. The sound that escaped Chifuyu’s throat was embarrassingly small, strangled, and he shoved weakly at Baji’s shoulder.

“W–wait, this is—!”

“Relax,” Baji murmured against his mouth, one hand braced beside Chifuyu’s head on the pillow, the other settling firm at his waist. “Ain’t gonna eat you.”

“That’s not—!” Chifuyu broke off with a yelp as Baji dragged him closer, their legs tangling. His heart was slamming, heat curling through him in a way he didn’t know how to fight. “You’re impossible!”

Baji only laughed into the kiss, low and rough, and pressed him back into the sheets. Chifuyu’s protests dissolved the longer it went on, his body betraying him even as his mind screamed that this was madness.

And then—

The door burst open.

“BAJI! YOU AWAKE?!”

Both of them froze.

A chorus of voices followed, tumbling over each other:

“Oi, he’s up, right? He owes me breakfast!”

 “Wait—what the hell—!”

 “Holy—close the door, close the door!”

Chifuyu jerked back like he’d been burned, shoving Baji off him with wide, horrified eyes. Baji, utterly unfazed, blinked at the crew now crowding the doorway.

It was the entire Toman crew.

Draken stood with his arms crossed, brows raised high. Mikey peered past him, blank expression betraying zero shame. Takemichi looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Kazutora had his hand over his mouth, snickering. A couple of the younger members were shrieking in sheer secondhand embarrassment.

“Baji…” Draken rumbled, slow and disbelieving. “Really?”

“Oi, oi, oi!” Kazutora cackled, pointing dramatically at Chifuyu, who was currently trying to bury himself under the sheets. 

“Shut up!” Chifuyu shouted from under the blanket, his voice strangled with mortification.

Takemichi flailed wildly at the others, face redder than Chifuyu’s. “D-don’t tease! G-give them privacy! Oh my god, why did you all even come barging in—!”

Baji, meanwhile, stretched like a cat, utterly unbothered. “What? You knock for once in your damn lives?”

“You could’ve locked the door,” Draken deadpanned.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Baji grinned, then, with no shame whatsoever, leaned over to tug the sheets off Chifuyu’s face. “Oi, don’t hide. You’ll give ‘em the wrong idea.”

Chifuyu made a strangled noise that could only be described as death by humiliation.

The crew erupted into chaos, half of them laughing, half yelling, Takemichi trying and failing to drag them all out. Mikey finally sighed and said, “Alright. Breakfast,” before turning on his heel, as though nothing had happened at all.

The others trailed after him, snickering and shouting, until the cabin was once again filled with the sound of the sea.

Silence.

Chifuyu lay stiff on the bed, wishing he could actually die.

Baji leaned back, still smirking, eyes glittering with amusement. “Well,” he drawled, “guess introductions are outta the way.”

“Baji…” Chifuyu groaned, dragging the blanket back over his head. “I hate you.”

Baji laughed so hard the ship might’ve rocked with it.

By the time Chifuyu managed to calm his racing heart, the cabin felt too small, too suffocating. He let Baji drag him out and up the narrow stairs into the open air, where sunlight spilled across the deck and the smell of something savory drifted from a long table already set with mismatched dishes.

“Breakfast!” Kazutora bellowed, throwing himself onto a bench.

The crew swarmed the table like a pack of wolves, voices overlapping as plates clattered. Chifuyu blinked, startled by the sheer noise. This wasn’t a meal—it was a storm.

He hesitated at the edge until Baji shoved him lightly forward. “Go on. They won’t bite.”

“That’s debatable,” Chifuyu muttered.

He sat stiffly at the far end, trying to make himself small. But the crew noticed him anyway. They noticed everything.

“So that’s him, huh?” someone said.

 “Can’t believe he picked you, Baji.”

 “Oi, don’t scare him off—he’s blushing already!”

Chifuyu turned red and nearly knocked over his cup in his haste to drink. Baji only barked a laugh and threw an arm around him. “What can I say? He's got good taste.”

That earned a round of groans and jeers.

“Good taste? In you?”

 “Poor boy, doesn’t know any better.”

 “Someone save him!”

Chifuyu sputtered into his drink. “I—That’s not—I didn’t—!”

The teasing only doubled. Baji looked like he was enjoying himself far too much.

It should have been unbearable. And yet… beneath the rowdiness, there was warmth. The crew mocked each other with the ease of siblings, insults thrown with grins, arguments dissolving into laughter. Even Draken, looming and serious, rapped Kazutora on the head with a spoon when his cackling got too loud. Mikey ate quietly at the center, expression unreadable, but his presence alone seemed to anchor them all.

Chifuyu found himself staring. At home, meals were silent, rigid affairs where every gesture was measured. Here, it was chaos—messy, loud, alive.

“You okay?”

He startled. Takemichi had slid onto the bench beside him at some point, a small plate of bread and fruit in hand. His smile was nervous but kind.

“You looked… uh. Overwhelmed,” Takemichi said, pushing the plate toward him. “Thought maybe you’d want something light. The others are… kind of a lot.”

Chifuyu blinked at him. Of all the crew, Takemichi seemed the least terrifying. His hair was a bit messy, his grin awkward, but his eyes were open and earnest in a way that reminded Chifuyu painfully of himself.

“…Thanks,” Chifuyu muttered, taking the plate.

Takemichi beamed like he’d just won a battle. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to them. They’re loud, but… they’re good people.”

Chifuyu glanced at Baji, currently in the middle of wrestling Kazutora over a chunk of meat while Mitsuya calmly stole it from under their noses. The others roared with laughter.

“Good people, huh?”

Takemichi followed his gaze, then laughed sheepishly. “Well… in their own way.”

For the first time since boarding the ship, Chifuyu felt something unclench in his chest. He even let himself smile—small, fleeting, but real.

Chapter Text

That night, rocked gently by the sea, Chifuyu dreamed.

He stood in the long halls of his once home, though they felt more like a mausoleum than a place meant for living. The air was cold, the lights unlit, silence pressing heavy against his ears.

At the end of the corridor stood a boy. Small, pale, dressed in finery too heavy for his frame. His eyes were wide, uncertain, and so achingly familiar that Chifuyu’s breath caught.

“You…” Chifuyu whispered, stepping closer. “You’re me.”

The boy stared, clutching a book to his chest as though it could shield him. His voice was soft, trembling. “Why did you leave me here? Why did you run away?”

Chifuyu knelt, the weight of years folding over him like a cloak. “Because this place was never home. It was a cage.” He reached out, brushing a hand through the boy’s fine blond hair. “But you were brave. You survived it. And now… you don’t have to stay.”

The boy’s lips trembled. “But Father said—”

“I don’t care what he said.” Chifuyu’s voice was firm now, steady like the deck beneath his feet. “You don’t need titles. You don’t need to be perfect. You deserve to laugh, to breathe, to live.”

The boy’s wide eyes shimmered with tears. “Will it hurt? Leaving?”

Chifuyu swallowed past the ache in his throat. “Yes. It’ll hurt. But then it won’t. One day, you’ll look at the sea and you’ll feel free.”

For a long moment, silence stretched. Then the boy slowly set the book aside, as though shedding a shackle, and slipped his small hand into Chifuyu’s.

The walls trembled. Light spilled through the cracks in the floor, warm and golden, until the manor began to crumble away like dust on the wind.

When Chifuyu woke, dawn had broken. The sky was painted in soft rose and gold, the sea stretching out endlessly beneath it. He lay on the deck, the creak of wood beneath him, the warmth of Baji’s coat draped over his shoulders.

He touched it lightly, a small smile curving his lips.

The boy he used to be was gone. But the sea, the ship, the wild pirate who had stolen his heart—

 They remained.

And for the first time, Chifuyu whispered into the morning air, “I’m free.”

The waves carried his words away like a promise, and the horizon opened wide to receive him.

Then a familiar shadow fell over him.

“Oi.” Baji’s voice was rough with sleep, his hair a tangle of midnight, eyes squinting against the light. “You’ll catch a chill out here.”

Chifuyu glanced up, unable to help the small, unguarded smile that curved his lips. “I’ll be fine.”

Baji didn’t look convinced. He dropped heavily onto the railing beside him, stretching out like the sea itself belonged to him. For a moment, they said nothing. The world was just the endless water, the creak of wood, and the warmth of dawn settling over their shoulders.

Finally, Chifuyu broke the silence, his voice soft, almost fragile. “Do you ever… regret it? This life?”

Baji tilted his head, studying him. “What, being free?”

Chifuyu let out a quiet laugh. “When you put it like that…”

Baji leaned closer, his grin wolfish but his gaze startlingly tender. “I told you before, didn’t I? The sea doesn’t regret. She takes, she gives, she keeps moving. That’s how we live.”

The words sank deep, warm as sunlight. Chifuyu realized, with a sudden ache, that he didn’t want to live any other way.

Baji reached out, brushing a stray lock of blond hair from his eyes, fingers lingering just long enough to set Chifuyu’s heart racing. “Besides,” he said, voice dropping softer, almost reverent, “I’ve got you now. What’s there to regret?”

The world stilled. The gulls wheeled overhead, the sea breathed beneath them, and Chifuyu thought—yes. This was it. The ending to his story, and the beginning of another.

He leaned against Baji’s shoulder, closing his eyes. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like a prisoner, or a pawn, or even a boy running from his past.

He felt like someone who had found his place.

The pirate ship sailed on, carrying them toward the horizon—toward a fairytale written not in ink or stone, but in salt, wind, and the steady beat of a wild, untamed heart.

Chapter Text

The ship slept.

Or at least, it sounded that way. The crew had finally quieted after another rowdy night of dice and drink, their songs dissolving into snores that carried faintly through the floorboards. The only sounds left were the slow sigh of the tide and the groan of the ship as it rocked against the water, as though even the wood itself was drifting in a dream.

Chifuyu lay in his bed, eyes open to the shadows overhead. He’d grown used to the sea’s lullaby, the constant rocking that had once made him sick now as steady as a heartbeat. But tonight sleep evaded him.

Something tugged at him—soft and persistent.

At last, with a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge and padded barefoot up the narrow stairs. The air above was cool and sweet, carrying the salt tang of the sea and the faint burn of lantern oil. Stars had spilled themselves across the sky in riotous numbers, sharp and clear without the smoke of the city to dim them. They seemed close enough to touch, close enough to pocket like gems.

And then he saw it.

At the center of the deck, where the moonlight touched the planks silver, someone had spread out a blanket. A small collection of food lay atop it: bread still soft from the galley ovens, cheese cut into neat wedges, fruit piled into a wooden bowl, and two dented tin cups with the faint perfume of spiced wine wafting from them. Lanterns dangled from the rigging overhead, glowing like trapped fireflies, their sway casting circles of gold across the deck.

And in the middle of it all sat Baji, cross-legged, hair loose around his shoulders, grinning like a thief who’d just pulled off a daring trick.

“Took you long enough” Baji said, tossing an apple into the air and catching it lazily. “What, were you planning to sulk below deck all night?”

Chifuyu blinked at him, then at the spread. “What is this?”

Baji bit into the apple, juice running down his chin, and spoke around the mouthful. “Dinner. Well, midnight dinner. Or a date. Depends on how you look at it.”

“A—” Chifuyu sputtered, heat prickling the tips of his ears. “A date?”

“Don’t sound so horrified.” Baji snorted, patting the blanket beside him. “Come on. Sit before the gulls decide to join us.”

Chifuyu hesitated, his eyes darting to the door that led below deck, half-expecting the rest of the crew to burst out laughing, having set this up as some cruel joke. But the ship was silent. Just them and the sea.

So, reluctantly, he stepped forward and lowered himself onto the blanket. The planks were cool beneath, the lanterns painting his hands gold. Baji shoved the bowl of fruit toward him with no ceremony, as if daring him to complain.

“Eat,” Baji said simply. “You nobles are used to your banquets, yeah? Thought I’d give you one pirate-style.”

Chifuyu let out a soft huff of disbelief. “This is your idea of a banquet?”

“You kidding? Look at this spread.” Baji gestured grandly to the bread and cheese. “Fresh fruit. Wine. We didn’t even steal it. Mitsuya traded for it fair and square.”

Chifuyu picked up a slice of bread, tearing it absently. 

Baji leaned back on one arm, smirk lazy and sharp. “You miss ‘em?”

“No.” The answer came quicker than he expected, firm enough that it startled even him. He glanced down at the simple food, at the stars burning bright above, and shook his head. “Not at all.”

For a while they ate in silence, though silence with Baji was never heavy. The sea filled the gaps, the lanterns swung, and every so often Baji muttered something—usually about the bread being too hard or Kazutora trying to hoard the last of the fruit earlier.

It was nothing like the rigid, suffocating meals of Chifuyu’s youth. No waiting for permission to lift a cup. No eyes watching for mistakes. Just food, simple and real, eaten under the stars.

When the bread was gone and only a sliver of cheese remained, Chifuyu leaned back, propping himself on his elbows to stare at the sky. The stars blurred into streaks, endless and bright, and for a moment he felt dizzy, as though the world itself had tipped.

“You ever think,” he murmured, “that all those stories we heard as kids… they got it wrong?”

Baji stretched out beside him, their shoulders nearly brushing. “What stories?”

“The fairytales. Princes, crowns, kingdoms. Happily ever afters.” Chifuyu swallowed. “I used to think that’s what life was supposed to be. But now…” He trailed off, eyes tracing the curve of the constellations. “Now I think maybe life was never in those stories at all.”

Baji didn’t laugh, didn’t tease. He just turned his head, dark eyes catching the lantern light. “So where is it, then?”

Chifuyu hesitated, then met his gaze. The answer rose easy this time, no fear, no doubt. “Here. With you. On this ship.”

For once, Baji seemed caught off guard. His grin faltered, something softer slipping through, raw and unguarded. Then he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Tch. Careful, Chifuyu. Talk like that and I’ll start thinking you actually like me.”

Chifuyu rolled his eyes, though his smile gave him away. “Idiot. I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t.”

Baji barked a laugh at that, the sound carrying across the waves. He reached over, rough fingers brushing against Chifuyu’s, then curling firm around his hand. “Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

They lay there like that, side by side beneath the stars, the sea whispering around them. Baji rambled about constellations, pointing out shapes that almost certainly weren’t real—“That one’s a wolf, see? And that one looks like Draken’s ugly mug”—until Chifuyu laughed so hard he had to cover his face.

“Stop,” he gasped between chuckles, “you’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” Baji grinned, unabashed. “Guess you like ridiculous, then.”

Chifuyu shook his head, still laughing, still holding his hand.

The night stretched on, the stars burning bright overhead, the ship carrying them steadily toward some unseen horizon. And for the first time, Chifuyu didn’t wonder what waited there.

Because here, under the lantern light, with bread crumbs at his feet and Baji’s warmth at his side, he already had everything he’d never known he needed.

He tilted his head back, eyes closing, letting the salt wind wash over him.

And he thought, This is my fairytale.

Not of Titles. Not of cages.

 But of stars, sea, and the pirate who taught him what it meant to be free.

The ship groaned, the lanterns swayed, and their laughter carried into the night.

And the world, endless and wide, kept opening before them.

Chapter Text

One Year Later.

The deck smelled of salt and gunpowder, the aftermath of another raid settling as the crew hauled crates below. Victory always felt sweet—but for Baji, the sweetness soured the moment he saw the blond storming toward him, arms crossed, lips pressed in a thin line.

“Keisuke Baji.”

The crew froze. Even the gulls circling above seemed to quiet.

Baji sighed, scratching his head. “Ah, hell…”

“You promised.” Chifuyu’s voice wobbled between anger and hurt. “You promised you’d be careful this time.”

The blood dripping from Baji’s arm did him no favors. He tried to grin. “Oi, oi, don’t look at me like that, Fuyu. Just a scratch.”

Chifuyu’s eyes narrowed. “A scratch? Your entire sleeve is red! You look like you wrestled a shark!”

“...well, technically—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

The crew snickered. Kazutora muttered, “Dead man walking,” and Inupi quickly shoved him before Chifuyu heard.

Baji let out a loud, exaggerated groan as Chifuyu pushed him down onto a crate by the mast, already pulling out bandages from the satchel he always carried for this very reason. “Y’know, you’d make a scary doctor,” Baji teased.

“Shut up,” Chifuyu muttered, dabbing a cloth on the wound with sharp little jabs.

“Oi! Gentle!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be gentle!”

“Damn, and here I thought you loved me,” Baji said dramatically, clutching his chest with his good hand.

Chifuyu puffed his cheeks, clearly trying not to smile but failing. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable when you pout.”

That earned him a glare. Chifuyu’s lips jutted out further, his brows scrunched like an angry kitten. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me. I’m mad at you.”

Baji leaned closer despite the sting in his arm, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mad enough to kiss me?”

Chifuyu went bright red. “B-Baji!”

The crew collectively “oooh”-ed in the background until Chifuyu whipped around, shouting, “All of you shut up or I’ll throw you overboard!” The deck exploded in laughter, though most quickly scattered below, leaving the two of them alone.

When Chifuyu turned back, still frowning, Baji was grinning at him—wide, toothy, impossible. “Y’know, you’re even cuter when you’re protecting me from my own men.”

“I wasn’t protecting you! I just—ugh, you’re hopeless.”

Baji’s grin softened. He reached up, brushing Chifuyu’s wrist with calloused fingers, tilting his chin so their eyes met. The moonlight caught on the ring hanging from his necklace, glinting silver.

Chifuyu blinked, then stiffened as Baji tugged lightly at his ear, where the small earring shimmered with the same design.

“See?” Baji said, voice quieter now. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. Doesn’t matter how many raids, how much blood. Always yours.”

Chifuyu’s pout trembled. His hand lifted, brushing the chain around Baji’s neck as if confirming it was real. “You noticed?” he whispered.

“’Course I noticed,” Baji murmured, grin tilting lopsided. “I’m not that dumb.”

For a moment, the world shrank to just them—the salty wind, the creak of the mast, the silver gleam of their matching rings.

Chifuyu sighed, exasperated but soft. “Idiot…”

Then he leaned in, pressing a quick, clumsy kiss against Baji’s lips.

Baji froze for a heartbeat—then laughed low, pulling him closer with his good arm and deepening it, careful but certain. The kiss was sweet and salty and warm, and when they broke apart, Chifuyu’s pout had melted into a shy, glowing smile.

Baji bumped their foreheads together, smirking. “Guess that means you forgive me.”

“Don’t push it,” Chifuyu muttered, though his hand lingered over Baji’s necklace, thumb brushing the ring.

Above them, the stars stretched endless. Below, the sea carried their laughter into the night.

And there, under the moon’s silver light, two stubborn souls found their place—not just among pirates, not just in the chaos of raids, but in each other.