Work Text:
Good soil to grow strong
When Ushijima Wakatoshi first fell in love with Tooru Oikawa, he was seven years old and Wakatoshi still six and a half.
His friend, Hajime, had tripped over his haori, and scraped his knee. Wakatoshi had not paid much attention to it, but Tooru had laughed, stopped, and then put his hands in the grass: in a moment, a plant had grown. He had put it in his mouth, chewed it, and then spit it out.
«Ew!» his friend had said, but he had allowed Tooru to medicate him, as he sniffed.
«What did you do?» Wakatoshi asked, leaning over to look.
«I made an ointment. So it passes right away.» Tooru explained.
«And how did you do that?»
Tooru shrugged «Sometimes when I want something, I find it in the grass.»
«He makes things appear!» Hajime explained «He makes flowers grow, and things to eat! Why don't you make some berries?» Hajime clarified, after pulling himself together.
«Wow. How nice.» he said «I wish I knew how to do that, too.»
It became clearer seven years later, when puberty made him taller than Tooru and he lost his boyhood voice forever.
It was true, Tooru did make things appear: like his entire family, his powers were about making plants spring up and grow. There were rules they were committed to, as they were agents of nature rather than prodigies, and over the years Tooru was not praised as much as Wakatoshi thought he deserved.
According to him, everyone took for granted the wonderful ability of the Oikawa family. Perhaps it was because they did not see them usually.
Wakatoshi was convinced that if the people of the region went to the Oikawa house, they would realize how beautiful and important what they did was.
He went there very often, because their families were on friendly terms. Tooru was not very friendly, though: when Wakatoshi would visit them, he would pretend to be busy practicing and then run off to play with his friends.
Therefore, Wakatoshi was often left in the care of Tooru's sister.
He always went to keep her company in one of the greenhouses, the realm of the beautiful Hana Oikawa. As her name suggested, she was good with flowers. Perhaps a less useful talent, but Wakatoshi could not help but be amazed every time.
«How do you do it?» he asked her, looking at those beautiful flowers.
She shrugged her shoulders «I just think there should be flowers, so they appear where I had thought them to be.»
«Do they come just the way you want them? Or do they decide?» he kept his arms behind his back straight, afraid that touching anything would ruin it.
«They come just the way I want them. Come on, try me. What flower would you like to see?» she challenged him, playfully.
It sure sounded like a complicated request to Wakatoshi! What did he know about flowers? «I don't know what flower to ask for…» he admitted.
«A purple one, perhaps?» she suggested.
What an honor! Purple was the color of the Ushijima family, would she really make such a flower? «Yes, I like purple.»
«Purple then! Big or small?»
«I… I think....big. Big and strong, like my father.» he replied.
She made a delighted sound, he was trying so hard! What a sweet little boy! «Do you want it to smell good?»
«Yes, if it's not too hard, please.» he requested.
So she set to work: she took an empty pot and placed it on the greenhouse table, then put her hands in the potting soil. Before closing her eyes, she looked very closely at Wakatoshi, who blushed slightly on his cheeks at that attention.
He was growing. One not very far away day, he would become a man strong enough to break her if he wanted to, but he was still practically a child. One unaccustomed to the company of girls, for that matter. She laughed to herself, softened, then focused.
She did much more complicated magic than he saw Tooru do, according to Wakatoshi. He watched Hana's fingertips disappear of the soil. From there, slowly, sprouted a lily-like flower, deep purple, veined with red.
«Ohhh!» Wakatoshi brought his face closer, to get a better look.
«Do you like it?» she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.
«It is beautiful. What you can do is beautiful, Hana-san.» he exclaimed, amazed.
«And it's nothing! Come!»
When it was time to leave, Wakatoshi's arms were full of purple and red flowers. He had asked Hana for many gifts, and Hana had taken great enjoyment in pleasing him.
Hana gave him a little push, to encourage him. «Come on!» she giggled, making him laugh.
Wakatoshi marched toward his mother, and handed her a garland of the purple flowers veined with red. «We made this one for you.» he explained to her.
Keiko accepted the gift, astonished. She was not an outgoing woman, expressing affection in public embarrassed her terribly, but she had to make an exception this time.
«I thank you from the bottom of my heart.» she said, still formal, with her son still in her arms «A wonderful gift you have, sweet Hana.»
«I only did what Wakatoshi asked. He came up with the flower, you know.»
The exact moment when Ushijima Wakatoshi became interesting, in Tooru Oikawa's eyes, was precisely that. That dull, boring little boy knew how to invent flowers? How strange, playing with him was always a bore because he had no imagination! A small tinge of jealousy took over, however: why was his older sister so fond of him?
«I can make flowers, too!» he exclaimed, to get his sister's attention more than anyone else. They all turned around, however. «Not like Hana, but I can do it too!»
Wakatoshi was usually very shy when it came to Tooru, but he found some courage «Would you show me, next time?»
«Of course! You'll see, I can make beautiful flowers!» he promised.
«Then I'm counting on it. I hope to see you soon, Tooru.»
«Think of lots of flowers! I'll make them all!» he exclaimed. Hana exchanged a puzzled look with her mother, and with Mrs. Ushijima: who would have thought that, for them to get along, so little would be enough? They had been trying to make them friends for years, and Tooru had not wanted to hear about it, to the point of worrying them about the future of their families, who had always been allies. They said nothing, because one does not hinder the growth of a healthy tree, even if it does not grow as one would expect.
«I wish these flowers would never wilt.» Keiko Ushijima murmured, a few days after that visit, standing in front of the garland. Within a short time, it would wilt and they would have to throw it away, but she just couldn't bring herself to accept it. She never threw away any of Wakatoshi's drawings or the small stones he brought as gifts, so why should she throw away something so beautiful?
The fleeting nature of Hana Oikawa's creations made his talent difficult to recognize, unlike that of her younger brother.
«We can ask them for a new one the next time we visit, can't we?» Wakatoshi asked.
«Yes, that's right. This one is special to me, however. Because you thought about doing something just for me at that time.» he explained.
Wakatoshi thought about it all day long. It was a big headache, actually. It would have been nice if he could have done something about it. He thought about it, then thought again, wracking his brain for a solution.
The next day, he took the garland in his hands. He thought about what the Oikawa had told him about how they did their magic, and before he could realize it, he did: the garland resumed vigor, as beautiful as the first day.
It lasted a few minutes before it became heavy, stiff: what had been petals and stems stiffened into a stone-like material.
He dropped it, startled, but the new garland was not scratched in the slightest. Keiko and her husband ran to see what the noise was, finding an unexpected scene before them.
«What did you do, Wakatoshi?» there was no judgment in his mother's voice, but curiosity.
«You said you wanted it to never wither, so.... I wanted it to never wither either! I don't know, I tried to....don't know.» he mumbled, but his parents were not angry at all. «I just did it.»
«Wakatoshi.» his father said «I knew your powers had nothing to do with horses. Come with me.»
When Wakatoshi did not visit them for the first week, Tooru was offended. That good-for-nothing! He had worked so hard to succeed in making flowers at least as beautiful as Hana's, and he hadn't even gone to see them!
«All the better, you have more time to practice.» Hana prodded him.
«I don't care, look! I really don't care what he thinks about my flowers, I just wish he hadn't made me promise something and then he doesn't even come to see it!» Tooru retorted.
«I'm sure he wanted to come, but he... you know, they expect a lot from him. He's the only child, it would have been a disaster if he hadn't developed the right powers.» Hana remained vague, believing Tooru was still too young to tell him such things «The Ushijima are not as lucky as we are.»
Two, three weeks passed. Then one, two months passed. Tooru continued to practice with the flowers at least once a day, even though a year ended up passing.
In the middle of the second year, when he was old enough to know what was going on in the world, he had an explanation: the powers that were passed down in the Ushijima family were about strength, physical and mental.
This was nothing to be surprised about, since they were all quite tall and strong (his mother told him that Wakatoshi's parents did not get along at all, but they had married because neither of them had been able to beat the other in any kind of duel. Recognizing each other as equals, they had no choice but to marry.) but there was a great expectation on Wakatoshi to develop a rare variation of their power.
Apparently, he had, and so they had sent him to the mountains, to stay with hermit monks, so that he could learn how to use it to perfection.
That's why he no longer visited, that's why he no longer went to school, nor was he seen around the town. Tooru was angry with him for leaving without giving him a chance to show him his flowers, but he was also a little worried.
Was he okay up there in the mountains? Was there enough food? He didn't know where they had sent him, but he knew that in mountainous regions it was harder to grow food, so they ate a lot of animals. The idea made him shudder, but he understood.
Don't worry, he told himself, someday I will be good enough to grow food everywhere.
When the third year passed, he thought about writing him a letter. He did not feel Keiko Ushijima's vague assurances were enough: he wanted to know more. Had he shaved his head as well? How often did he pray? Did they make him learn the sutra by heart?
He had so many questions! Damn Ushijima Wakatoshi, how dare he be boring when he saw him every day and interesting when he was away from his eyes?
Tooru Oikawa was always beautiful.
In all of these years, when thinking about his powers, Wakatoshi could not help but to compare himself to Tooru Oikawa, who always had powers.
In the order of things, for Wakatosi there were beautiful things useful things and their opposite. The beauty of reality was that things could be more than one: something could be ugly and useful, someone beautiful is useless, and Tooru Oikawa was beautiful and most useful, vital.
As for himself, he felt ugly and recognized his usefulness only because others always told him so. He gave strength. Tooru made things come alive. Tooru had the miracle of life within him, he was the miracle of life. What about Wakatoshi? He could only fortify what already existed. Useful, but not beautiful. Not special, not even very noteworthy in his opinion.
He couldn’t know, but, in Tooru's opinion, he was a little scary. What was scary for Tooru, however, was very different from what was scary for the rest of the world, and, unlike what everyone thought, Tooru did not bring forth only beautiful things.
The winter of their fifth year was very though. A virus that infected crops affected many rice paddies. Tooru had been formidable to contain it only in their prefecture: he spent whole days in the fields to eradicate dead plants and make new ones grow fast: stronger, healthier, more durable. A power like his was rare and precious, but also dangerous. To stick to nature’s rhythms was the safest route, but Tooru was stubborn and could not tolerate the idea that someone died of hunger, so he did everything in his powers and more. No one suffered a single day of hunger, but the price to pay was his health.
Sun rises every day, and with it, so did Tooru.
One day, the sun rose but Tooru didn’t.
Tooru stayed in bed, so weak that he had to be helped to chew on his food. The medicines were barely useful to keep him awake, and the family did not have a good enough explanation to justify Tooru’s absence on the town’s public life.
What if he died? No one else had inherited that power, and Hana was unprepared for the possibility that the child she was carrying might be the next bearer of that wonderful ability. Beyond that, she was not prepared at all to let Tooru go, in any way.
So at the dawn of a horrible night, in which Tooru's peaceful sleep had been only three hours, she ran toward the Ushijima house.
He came on horseback, the next day.
He had never been a flashy man, before. The servants of the Oikawa house hardly recognized him, and only because Hana went to greet him at the gate was he let through.
Even she looked frightened. Wakatoshi was too shy to ask what she thought of him, and he took refuge in the thought that she might simply be scared about Tooru's condition.
He did not make Hana ask twice. He had received a few lines of a message explaining the situation. Immediately afterward he went to his mentor, insisting that he let him go.
«You don't master that technique, Wakatoshi. You could put him in even more danger.» Washijo rebuked, stern and old and always objective.
«But I want to cure him.» he retorted. «I will make him strong. Strong enough to overcome the illness naturally, all I'll do is get him back on his feet. Our safety depends on it. If he dies, we will be weaker, and it will be a matter of time before someone strong will think of sacking our prefecture. It's not just a wish from the bottom of my heart, it's strategy.»
«Go, then.» Washijo conceded, after a long silence «I've kept you on this mountain long enough. You're a grown man, now. But, if you fail, don't even think of returning, neither here, nor to your parents, nor to our prefecture. The dishonor would be too great.»
Wakatoshi left that warning behind, and departed just a few hours later, immediately after bidding farewell to all the monks who had been looking after him.
He went dressed as an official, deeming the occasion extremely important, thus worthy of his best clothes. He wore a white suit with a purple cloak, held in place by a clasp in the shape of the flower he had invented for his mother many years before. Over the years, those flowers had become the symbol of the Ushijima family, and every member of the family had at least one brooch or piece of jewelry to signal their ancestry, and their wealth.
He did not have time to bring the Oikawa anything of value, and he was very embarrassed by coming to her empty-handed. Hana did not even seem to mind, perhaps she was too tried by her pregnancy and Tooru's condition.
«I'm asking you as if I were your sister, Ushijima-san, do whatever you can to take care of him.» she begged him.
Wakatoshi was a little embarrassed to hear her speak so formally and, still unaccustomed to interacting with anyone other than the monks or his master, nodded.
«Tooru?» Hana called, but received only silence. Motionless in a huge bed, in a sea of Oikawa-turquoise cloth and many servants at his bedside, laid Tooru Oikawa.
Wakatoshi sensed a small but tenacious life force within him.
«Everyone get out.» he ordered «Leave us alone. I can't focus like this.»
With some reluctance, everyone left, a little frightened by that deep voice. Most of the servants in the Oikawa household remembered Wakatoshi when he was a tall, silent child: this military-dressed man was a stranger.
Wakatoshi, however, felt like the same little boy. He approached the bed slowly and sat at the sick man's bedside, studying him: it was a pity he couldn't ask him to leave as well, his face was so beautiful it was hard to look at him.
Gossip about his shocking beauty had reached even the mountains. The most sincere, however, he had heard on the battlefield, where crude comments about “the prince who is the most beautiful princess in Japan” were not wasted among rough men.
Now that he looked at him, with some embarrassment, he thought that it was quite true. He was in that bed, the most beautiful prince of any princess, completely at Wakatoshi's mercy.
A short time before he had been in the presence of the princess of Haiba, whose Japanese father had imposed a hauntingly Japanese beauty on her and whose Russian mother had given her silver hair and jade eyes. She had the reputation of being the most beautiful woman in the world, kind and talented, but her beauty was not comparable to that of the man asleep in bed.
Wakatoshi was methodical: he took his pulse and checked his heartbeat, came up to him and checked his breathing.
Perhaps he had arrived just in time to save him.
He started with the hands, those were easy. Wakatoshi touched there where he saw yellow spots and tough leathery skin, which came back soft and the color of ivory after his passage. He exulted, in that part he had succeeded!
Even the feet were a silly chore, hardly at all affected by the spread of the virus. With extreme embarrassment he checked his legs, curiously healthy.
«Forgive me.» he stammered.
He demurely undid his light robe, and with flaming cheeks began to massage his heart.
An invisible force exuded from Wakatoshi's fingertips, which was to destroy the infection where it resided. That was the first stage, the most sensitive. In his sleep, Tooru exhaled a sigh of relief, but he did not wake up.
«Sorry, I have to look at you.» he repeated. He raised him to sit up so as not to loom over him. Not trusting his trembling hands, he trusted his rigid forehead: he leaned his forehead against Tooru's fever-damp one so he could best visualize where to hit the disease. With confident fingers, he applied pressure to the back of his head: Tooru jerked and woke up suddenly, but did not move. Wakatoshi thought he was too weak to push him away, so he tried to be as fast as possible.
Every time he removed a bit of infection, Tooru sighed, his little life force burning more intensely. Finally, Wakatoshi stroked his eyes, to help him close them.
That way, he could rest.
Deeming the most difficult part accomplished, he tried to bring him back to the mattress, but Tooru Oikawa's stubbornness burned as brightly as his life force: weak arms encircled Wakatoshi's waist, a messy little head stayed rested on Wakatoshi's shoulder.
Tooru exhaled a sigh of relief.
With his throat knotted, Wakatoshi said «All right.» and proceeded to infuse him with strength. Now, the invisible energy that had radiated from his hands radiated from all over his body, gentle and steady, until that grip around him became stable.
«Who are you?» Tooru murmured.
«I don't know if you remember me.» he replied in a low voice «It's been so many years. We were friends as children. I am Ushijima Wakatoshi.»
One of Tooru's hands closed into a fist, which tapped softly on Wakatoshi's back. It didn't hurt, but Wakatoshi moaned «Ouch!»
«You idiot! You dared me to learn how to make flowers and then left without even coming to see them! I waited for you for a long time!» he scolded him «And now that you're back I don't have any flowers to show you!»
«Sorry, I did not....not choose.» Wakatoshi justified himself «I would have liked to see them.»
«Don't you dare leave again before seeing my flowers! You....you will stay here, wait for me, and then maybe you can go back to being a monk in the mountains!» he ordered.
Wakatoshi laughed «Of course, I'm not going anywhere. I'm back.»
«Do you still have hair?» he asked, point blank. Before waiting for an answer, he checked with his hands, running them through Wakatoshi's hair «All right. You have it. So soft. Good thing, I don't trust bald men.» he declared. He glanced at him one last time before falling asleep, now that all his questions had been answered.
Many things happened within very little time. When Wakatoshi returned to the mountains, he went back there to say goodbye: no married man could live with monks, and his engagement had happened in a hurry.
He had barely made it in time to eat his third breakfast at the Oikawa house when he and Tooru were summoned to the presence of both their parents.
To make a long story short, they could not refuse.
The same logic that had allowed Wakatoshi to come down from the mountain to treat him there trapped him into a quick engagement, even though Wakatoshi was missing an essential component: how would they do with children? Doesn't one get married for that? He was too shy to ask. He hoped Tooru would rebel: within a few days, that weak life force grew to become the most dazzling of fires.
(All right, it wasn't all Tooru's doing. he was still recovering – but before he left and let him rest, Wakatoshi had picked a flower. He had gotten good at it, over time: that blue geranium became an amulet, shining like a jewel.
He had placed it on Tooru's chest. Taking advantage of the fact that he was asleep, he had found the courage to say to him «To regain strength.»
Tooru was far from asleep, but he said nothing, pretending to sleep. He had realized that Wakatoshi was like a beautiful wolf: majestic, but extremely easy to scare. He would act accordingly).
Nervously, Wakatoshi glanced at Tooru, who, however, sat composed, as silent as he had never seen him. He almost felt like screaming – that guy talked in his sleep and now said nothing?
«I will obey to your will, Father.» he declared.
Wakatoshi was not really asked his opinion «You too, Wakatoshi, right?»
He wanted to object. To say that he was not worthy, that he had too many military commitments to be distracted by that matter, to beg them to reconsider. He was a soldier, not a husband. Never had they raised him to be a husband. Opposing in front of enemies was easier than opposing in front of his parents so, reluctantly, he obeyed.
Wakatoshi had never been the type to run away, in the face of anything: never in battle, never with his work, never in the face of hardship, certainly not in the face of the sentence that went by the name of “arranged marriage,” but there was something in his husband's eyes that deeply terrified him.
Not that he was ugly, quite the opposite. Tooru had a beauty that was hard to describe; no picture could do him justice. Every time they had met before they were married, it had been complicated to exchange more than a few sweet words with him, which Tooru did not seem the least bit impressed by.
Wakatoshi did not think he despised him, far from it. He had sensed from the first second that Tooru was actually quite reserved, that all that irresistible sociable attitude was a great facade. Tooru did not wish to marry him either, after all, but it was too advantageous for both families, and there were no women from either family who could take that trouble.
What a lucky combination it had been that they were both attracted to men, so at least they could hope to fall in love, not just have a marriage of convenience.
Of course, it could have happened if Wakatoshi had been able to stay in the same room with him without feeling the need to have a drink to loosen up a little.
It never happened, however, because Wakatoshi did not drink.
Tooru, on the other hand, could not understand what was going on.
Wakatoshi had been so affectionate when he had treated him, so caring, his gifts were beautiful and thoughtful, so why was he not even looking him in the eye when they crossed each other around the house? Why on the earth that he personally made green would his husband want to sleep in a separate bedroom?
Did he dare to consider him ugly? Did he have nothing to tell him at all? Could it be that he was satisfied with a single kiss, even a rather awkward one, exchanged during the ceremony? Did that jerk intend to conduct a wedding where they both thought only of work and saw each other only at the end of the day? No, this was something Tooru could not accept. He had fallen in love the very moment Wakatoshi had healed him, and he demanded that Wakatoshi also be in love with him.
This habit of his of running away from the bedroom whenever Tooru began to undress made him furious! All those years among men and soldiers and not even half a carnal instinct? Maybe he really had been a monk in those mountains!
Any attempt to talk about it was skillfully evaded by his husband.
Tactics varied: sometimes he would postpone the conversation until never, sometimes he would try to distract him with a drawing or a project or some strategy, sometimes (Tooru's favorite, if he had to be honest!) he would simply shower him with compliments and shift the conversation to Tooru rather than his own chastity. He wasn't even stupid! Shy, quiet but poetic. It made Tooru so angry!
One gorgeous day, when Wakatoshi was certain he was alone at home, he decided to practice in the garden.
The spring sun shone on his muscular body, which he moved in slow martial moves. That strong chest was shaken by deep sighs, naked, a sight Tooru was forced to watch furtively despite the fact that that wonderful body belonged to his!!! Husband!!! and therefore, consequently, to him.
He decided to ambush him.
He lifted a finger, with which he guided a tree to bring him Wakatoshi's jacket, hanging from a low branch. The tree made a noise, so Wakatoshi noticed, but it was too late to take the garment back: he immediately spotted Tooru on the porch, with his jacket in his arms.
He turned bright red on his cheeks and hurriedly covered his chest. He sought within himself the words to protest, yet nothing came to him but «Give it back.»
«Why do you want it back? You were training without it, go on.» Tooru played dumb.
«No...I don't want you to see me like this. Give it back.» he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, why was his husband humiliating him like that? Had he perhaps done something wrong, made him angry?
«What's the harm in seeing you like this? We are married.»
«So what?» Wakatoshi retorted «I don't....want to. I am not worthy of your eyes. Please give me back my jacket.»
Tooru opened his eyes wide, exactly those that were looking at something “unworthy.” «You are not worthy of my eyes?» He repeated.
«No.» Wakatoshi replied. At that point, it had become a matter of principle.
«Is it so? Is that what you think?» Tooru pounced, head held high «Since you are unworthy of my eyes, you are also unworthy of me moving a muscle to come to you. Come and take your jacket back.»
Wakatoshi's good instincts signaled to him that this was a trap, but the desire to get dressed made him move. Tooru stretched out an arm, dangling his jacket, waiting – just as Wakatoshi was a step away from him, he ran.
«Where are you going?»
«Come and get it!» he shouted at him, running away. Wakatoshi chased him straight into the trap of their master bedroom, barely used because Wakatoshi barely slept in it.
Oh, how things would change that day!
Tooru did it on purpose to end up with his back to the wall, but he did not give up so easily: he put on his jacket over his clothes, buttoning it up to his chin. «Come on, take it off.» he challenged him, breathing heavily.
Wakatoshi was also panting, sweating from training and running: logically, he could have grabbed something from the closet. It occurred to him a second too late, when he already had his hands on Tooru: the man who had married him without a word closed his arms around his shoulders and pulled him against him, undressed and sweaty as he was. Tooru kissed those lips unworthy of him, touched that body in a way Wakatoshi had never known before that moment.
«Husband...» Wakatoshi sighed, confused.
«Yes, that's right, finally. I am your husband, and you are mine. Married people do more than that, and I want more.» he led him toward the bed, sitting on his lap «I just don't know where you got this idea that you are not worthy of me. That this.» he opened his hands on Wakatoshi's chest, palming his muscles gently «might not be worthy of me. Let me show you what I expect of you, husband.»
«You don't understand me…» Wakatoshi mumbled.
«Exactly, I don't understand you. But you will understand me when we're done.» he lowered his head onto Wakatoshi's shoulder. This time he was at full strength, and he used that strength to kiss him on the neck «Do you want me?»
Wakatoshi was a shy man, and demure. Certainly not a fool. A long time ago, he had not been able to say yes, but he said it this time «Yes. I want you.»
Thus resolved the first marital crisis, a few hours later, between clean sheets and between Tooru's legs.
(Tooru could not believe that Wakatoshi was such a virgin. When he inquired, Wakatoshi sheepishly told him that he was never interested in that kind of things before getting married.
«I had to lure you to bed, husband.» Tooru said.
«I was going to! Eventually! I know what’s expected of a husband. It was just…I would have tried, once I grew familiar with your beauty, which is not easy, since you’re so upsettingly beautiful…» he could not finish that sentence, since Tooru started to kiss him, delighted. Oh, he liked that man. A lot.)
Years went by.
There was not always danger, but there was always someone who needed something. Everyone had seen Wakatoshi as a formidable military asset, but Tooru, who lived by his side and knew his quiet gentleness, had an idea.
He began to make him flowers, species he had never seen before. Not as beautiful as Hana's, but one of a kind. He would make flowers that Wakatoshi drew, and then ask Wakatoshi to make them into jewelry.
«Why?» Wakatoshi only asked after he made the whole set, admiring their creation.
Tooru laid his head on Wakatoshi’s, admiring the jewels as well «Aren’t you making beautiful things, too?»
«You’re such a flirt…» he said, not hiding a small prideful smile.
«I thought that those could be a present for those ambassador coming from China. Some for them, this for the Emperor….» he picked the most beautiful. Wakatoshi had drawn that flower after a quite steamy encounter in the woods, naked Tooru sleeping on his chest.
«This is a wonderful idea, beloved.» he turned his head, to kiss his cheek.
Indeed it was, and soon they were flooded of requests of a similar fashion.
So, they got a little store in the bustling part of town, which over the years attracted customers from all over Japan: their amulets infused strength for all sorts of life's challenges, from simple insecurities to major illnesses.
It became a highly prized gift that many people wanted for themselves, although Wakatoshi insisted on hearing the story before setting a price. He believed that the greater the pain, the less one should pay.
Tooru disagreed strongly, but over the years he realized that it was precisely that way of thinking that had made him really fall in love. He had decided to marry him without much thought because he suspected that he would let him do whatever he wanted, hardly argumentative as he was, but he realized that in addition to being handsome, he was also good.
Whenever Wakatoshi had to leave for some military campaign, he would bring back two gifts for Tooru: flowers from that prefecture, so they could take inspiration for their amulets, and something good to eat.
Tooru waited, every time, holding the geranium that had saved him close to his heart. Certainly not because he was afraid he would not see him come home, but because then he could always feel him close, so he could always feel the warmth of his embrace.
One day, when he told Wakatoshi, he blushed «I'll make you a nicer one.»
«Worthy of me?» Tooru teased him. Wakatoshi huffed, but then laughed with him when he saw him laugh.
«One full of all the love I have for you.» he whispered.