Chapter Text
The tailor shop sits near the edge of town, its back windows having the perfect view of the countryside, the Wasteland. With the work day ending, Akaashi works on tomorrow’s deliveries and pickups in the workroom where his desk resides at one of these windows. There’s not much, he could certainly put it off until tomorrow, but it’s calming, patching holes in trousers, taking in shirts, and watching the fog role in over the hills in the distance. He would call it a peaceful start to the evening if not for the ruckus his older brothers make in the main shop. They sigh in relief at flipping the sign in the front door to closed, share stories of today’s particularly bothersome clients, and no doubt begin making plans for the night.
“And did you hear her?” Komi asks with a laugh. “She wants the dress brought in six more inches.”
“She says that every time,” Sarukui adds. “Another two inches here, maybe raised a bit more. I never do the full order. At this rate it’ll be a doll’s dress.”
Washio scoffs. “Did she claim she’s on another diet again?”
“Swore her son’s life on it!” Komi exclaims.
“She did that last time, too,” drawls Sarukui.
Akaashi listens to their back and forth talk with amusement, but there’s no need to join in. He’s perfectly fine hiding in here, listening in with the door propped open, just as he does everyday. His brothers are used to it. They know he likes to be left alone. Yet, as always, they feel the need to invite him everywhere. Akaashi’s just touched that they still ask even though he turns them down every time.
It happens again tonight as Sarukui taps lightly on the open door. Akaashi finishes the stitch he’s on and looks up to see his smiling face as well as the others behind him. They peer in while tossing aprons on their chairs and their grabbing jackets.
“We’re all going to get a drink,” he says. “You know, since it’s Friday. Wanna come?”
Smiling back politely, Akaashi shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine here. I’ll finish closing up, too, so you won’t have to worry about that.”
“If you say so,” Sarukui replies and he’s about to add something else, probably that he wishes Akaashi would come out with them more often, this is a frequent occurrence as well, but the others gasp and hurry to the windows, drawing him away as well.
“Look!” Komi all but shouts. “You can see the Owl’s Castle tonight!”
“Yup, there it is.”
“You can see it right through the fog a bit.”
Akaashi squints out through his window as well and sees that they’re right. It’s not everyday that you can see it out there. Sometimes the fog covers it up completely and other times it’s simply not there. Rumor has it that it’s invisible. That’s how it earns its other name, the Vanishing Castle. For a castle, it’s not all that big, just a pinprick of white stone in the distance, but it sits on a cliff’s edge and stands out against the pines behind it.
“Maybe the Owl’s on the prowl tonight,” Sarukui whispers, trying to be spooky, but only succeeding in exciting Komi even more while Washio rolls his eyes.
“All the girls say that he’ll eat the pretty ones’ hearts right up!”
“Oh yeah?” Washio asks.
Over Komi’s eager nodding, Sarukui says, “And what girls do you talk to?”
Komi’s face flushes. “Plenty,” he says offhandedly, but then his excitement comes rushing back, “but surely it’s true! I mean, what else do sorcerers eat?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met one.”
“Well! We better be off then,” Sarukui says after one last look toward the Owl’s Castle and the Wastelands. He herds the other two to the door.
“Have a good time,” Akaashi calls after them before the door shuts and once again he’s alone and it’s quiet. A sigh breaks through his lips.
He continues working on tomorrow’s pickups until the descending sun appears in his window. A train passes below on its dugout track. It rattles the house. Akaashi waits for it to pass before carrying on with his careful work. He keeps glancing at the Vanishing Castle, trying to see if he can catch it disappearing again. But it remains, standing out as the sun’s rays bounce off it as it begins its fall. Akaashi sets his things aside. The sun’s not quite touching the hills yet, which means he has enough time to stop downtown and come back before dark.
Standing up, he abandons his desk and tosses his apron over it and his completed projects. He’ll have plenty of time to clean up when he returns. Besides, he had promised he’d close up shop. That means giving the entire place a good rub down. Can’t have it getting dusty. And Father’s supposed to visit over the weekend so the shop needs to be extra clean, just short of shining. His brothers know this, too, but they also know Akaashi will do a good enough job for all of them. It’ll look presentable for their father come morning.
They’re stepbrothers actually, all born to different mothers or brought in with the marriage. Their father goes through women like it’s going out of style. Akaashi can’t really blame him. There's always something that doesn't seem to work out. Either she was in it for the money or they just didn’t click as a family. Their father always tries though, even if he does rush into things. He blames it on being a hopeless romantic. Still Akaashi can’t find fault in him. The man may be strict, but, no matter the divorces, he stays friendly and treats each boy as his own, giving them jobs, money, whatever they need. He’ll even catch up with the majority of their mothers. Most Sundays he’s off having tea with someone. It’s always important to keep connections open, he's always told them. Just more business talk.
Akaashi’s different though. His mother died from a sickness that had washed over the city. That was years ago, when he was only a kid, and he has her tailor shop to manage now. She was one of his father’s first marriages. He had been quite successful with his business then and he was starting to buy stock in others or just the businesses themselves. This shop had been a gift to Akaashi’s mother and now a fleeting job for the other boys to pass their time. A steppingstone between more school or their booming careers, insured by their father of course.
That was the most he can remember of her. Every other memory just seems so blurry and fuzzy. He used to think about it all the time. At night, he’d sit up trying to recall his childhood, even the sound of his mother’s voice. All he got was a pounding headache.
Akaashi’s happy here though. Even though he can’t remember his mother, he still feels close to her in the shop. He contents himself now with burying into the work here in her shop. He’d be perfectly happy to sigh his way through days, all alone with a needle and thread and, if necessary, his brothers bumbling about and chatting away with gossip between clients. He’s happy in front of his little window, watching the fog and sometimes the rain, whatever the day may bring. He’s happy to be sitting here, daydreaming, wondering about the little castle in the distance.
He goes now to visit his eldest brother, Konoha. He had inherited Father’s knack for business. Once done with school, he went to pursue his dream of a bakery in the center of town and with Father’s help and Konoha’s charm, it was an immediate success. He and Akaashi used to trade off meeting each other. One Friday Akaashi would go to the bakery and the next Konoha would come up to the shop. Only recently did Akaashi find himself making runs to the bakery more and more. He didn’t mind. It’s good to see his brother’s business so popular.
Setting away his things, Akaashi goes over the shop quickly before he leaves. Just clearing away materials and tying up the trash. He’ll have time to clean everything when he returns. He won’t be out late like the others will. He tosses the day’s newspaper into the last bag of garbage. He pauses, reading the headlines.
Sending Off Our Soldiers
War Begins: What This Means for You
That’s right, he thinks. That parade is today, which means traffic. Sighing, he stuffs it into the bag. Grabbing his jacket, he opens the door and checks that the sign reads closed. He casts one last look around before heading out, locking the door behind him.
So it has come to this. There have been plenty of rumors, but to finally make the news is another thing. Of course, one can’t believe everything they read, he reminds himself.
Akaashi takes a different turn than normal after seeing a crowd of people up ahead on his route. He sighs. How troublesome.
Konoha’s shop is near the center of town, which isn’t a far walk. It’s actually quite nice on clear evenings like this with just the right amount of chill to them. The sun’s fading light throws the narrower alleyways into shadows, but those are the ones he takes. He’d rather that than risk running into people. The tailor shop isn’t as popular as Konoha’s, but plenty know of it and even more know his father. They wouldn’t think anything of stopping him for a chat. And he really doesn’t want to be stopped for a chat.
He keeps casting glances up over his shoulder to catch sight of the sunset. Many of the buildings block his view of the sky and the way the sun’s rays cast through the clouds. It’s a better view from his window, but he gathers as much of it as he can now. The pinks and purples mix in the sky and fade into blue and then darker blue, where night is beginning to loom. Akaashi spots the first star. Another turn obstructs his view even more. He turns his head to watch the ground instead, imagining what the sunset would look like from the Wastelands with no buildings to stand in the way.
The streets are emptier than usual tonight. It doesn’t bug him. Everyone is probably already at the city’s center. The parade should be finishing up by now. Then they’ll be out for the rest of the night most likely. There’s always something happening there in the thick of the town, but events such as this one are a bit more rare. Everyone who’s anyone will certainly be taking advantage of that. That’s not Akaashi though. He’ll be out and back within an hour or so.
At his last intersection, he turns straight into a large crowd. It’s more than a crowd. They’re lining the streets. People are cheering, waving flags. Eyes narrowing, he tries seeing over their heads.
Trumpets blast and the footsteps of marching soldiers thunder together down the cobblestone. The parade isn’t over yet. Akaashi’s walked into the thick of it. Bless his luck, but he’ll need to wade through if he’s to get to Konoha’s.
Someone from behind knocks into him and the crowd immediately swallows him up. Rubbing the offended shoulder, he resists the urge to curse under his breath. Instead, he politely excuses himself, trying to side step around those in his way. He just wants to reach the back of the crowd again. Maybe he can slip along the buildings. Konoha’s shop is so close. If only people would just pay attention and move.
The soldiers are being sent off tomorrow to the king’s capital. He remembers from the article he’d glanced at. It’s a big celebration. Everything is bright and cheerful. People laugh and call out to each other. War is much different than this, Akaashi thinks. Still, people will gossip over each newspaper in the coming weeks. The war is so removed, it seems almost like a fairytale in print between their fingers. Their country is just a side to root for. When the soldiers leave, will they stop being human?
This happened years ago. Akaashi can barely remember, but he does remember reading only numbers. He remembers people cheering that it was over. He remembers another town being bombed the very same night. He remembers the war dragging on for another month before it finally drew to a close officially.
It looks like the approaching war is affecting everyone. Including me, he grumbles, pushing past someone and gently stopping a child from running into him.
“Keiji! Hey, Keiji!”
Someone calls his name and he turns, not used to hearing his actual name out in public. He doesn’t recognize any of the faces around him. Besides, none are turned toward him. They all look to the street, to the parading soldiers.
Wait. Someone is looking at him. Someone with big golden eyes and bizarre looking hair and—does he know this person?
The strange man comes closer and grabs his hand and tugs him through the sea of people. It parts for them easily. Akaashi’s face scrunches up at the sudden turn of events. The stranger casts a sunny smile over his shoulder.
“They can’t see us this way,” he says, giving their joined hands a slight squeeze.
Akaashi flinches, eyes widening as it comes together, though he still allows himself to be pulled along. This man is a sorcerer! Why is he here? Why is he mixed in with regular, everyday people? Why is he helping him?
So many questions enter Akaashi’s mind, but his lips stay firmly squeezed together. A spell? He wouldn’t doubt it. The crowd might be parting for them, but the magic does nothing to lessen the noise. His voice would drown in it. He shouldn’t be talking to sorcerers anyway.
They come to a halt seconds later, though it feels like much longer, Akaashi’s perception of time skewed. Another trick, he guesses. People flow around them but never touching. Those eyes light upon his face, looking like he’d just done something clever and is expecting praise. Instead, he says, “This is where you wanted to go, right?”
Akaashi tears his gaze away to look at the building. He’s brought them right to Konoha’s shop. How did he—
“Yes,” he stutters, “but how—”
“Great!” the stranger pipes, interrupting. He stares intensely at Akaashi, looking like he wants to say just as much as Akaashi, but he doesn’t. Instead, he chirps, “See you around then!”
And before Akaashi can get another word in, the spell breaks and the crowd surges around them, as if a bubble has popped. Akaashi fights through the mass, tilting his head up to see over heads, but the sorcerer has vanished without a trace. More frustrated than anything, Akaashi gives up. Like a river, the crowd pulls at him to enter his stepbrother’s bakery.
*
The shop is packed more than the streets, if that’s even possible. People squirm shoulder to shoulder, struggling to reach the front desk. On busy days like today, no one seems to pay heed to lines or any sense of order. Akaashi slides along the back wall, away from the direction the bodies are pushing. He sneaks behind their backs and no one spares him any attention. He cranes his neck to catch sight of his brother behind the counter.
Konoha turns from customer to customer. Young men and women reach across the counter, eager to attract his ever-fleeting attention. Konoha listens eagerly to each, turning to grab what they need from the crammed shelves behind him. He jokes and laughs with them, somehow managing to find the seconds necessary to spare on everyone he helps. Then they head off toward the register. Akaashi rolls his eyes. His brother was always such an extrovert, a people pleaser just like their father.
What a schmooze, Akaashi thinks with a faint smile.
One of Konoha’s coworkers catches sight of him. She peers above the heads, jumping a bit to see better, perhaps trying to judge the time based on the low sun that shines through the door’s window. It must be hard to see from there, the people are packed too tightly. Her eyes land on him, the only customer sticking to the back wall. Akaashi recognizes the girl, but doesn’t remember her name. He doesn’t think Konoha ever mentioned a name so he doesn’t bother worrying. She turns to Konoha, still on her tiptoes to reach his ear to whisper.
Konoha’s eyes fly up to glance around. By now, Akaashi has made his way along the side of the shop, near the door to their back storage rooms and offices. Konoha finds him, smiles, and holds up a finger. He’ll be with him in a minute.
That usually means about five, so Akaashi opens the door. He’s eager for some quiet, even if he can still hear the noise of the crowd murmuring at his back. Sighing, he settles himself on one of the windows' ledges. They line the hallway, offering a great view of the town’s center. The parade is over, but the townsfolk still remain, interspersed across the square, chatting in groups. They’ve brought a band in to play and someone’s going around lighting the lanterns. There’ll be dancing soon and then everyone will move inside for drinks and the soldiers will party away their last night in town. In the morning they’ll be shipped off.
If it were up to him, Akaashi thinks, he’d rather just sleep. Who knows what the morning might bring, but perhaps that’s why they choose to be out surrounding themselves with music and pretty girls. He frowns and turns away, just as Konoha enters.
The noise grows, leaking through the opened door, before it’s smothered once more. Konoha comes over to sit next to him. He glances out the window. Akaashi refuses to look out again at the merry people and swirling colors.
“What a busy day,” Konoha sighs, wiping his hands on his apron even though they’re already clean.
Akaashi stares at him, wondering whether or not to tell him of today’s recent events. He decides. “I think I met a sorcerer outside your shop.”
Konoha’s head whips around to face him, his eyes narrowed slightly, yet amused. Disbelieving. “What?”
“He led me through the crowd,” Akaashi says slowly, lips pursing as he remembers. “The people split to let him pass, but it was like he wasn’t there at all. Definitely magic.”
“Keiji!” Konoha gasps. It’s almost a reprimand. “He could have stolen your heart! Eaten it! What if it had been the Owl?”
Akaashi looks away from Konoha and shrugs unconcerned. “Why would he bother eating a regular person's heart?” His gaze turns out the window. He shrugs again. He casts Konoha a teasing look out of the corner of his eye. “You’ve been listening to Komi too much.”
Konoha lets out another sigh. “Look, all I’m saying is to be careful, Keiji. It’ll be dark on your way home so—”
“I know, I know,” Akaashi waves him off. “I’m perfectly capable of walking myself home.”
“Konoha!” a nervous voice trills down the hall. “We’re out of the ladyfingers. Do you know where the spare are?”
Konoha turns from Akaashi. “Sure, Yachi, I’ll get them. One moment.”
“I can see you’re busy,” Akaashi says before Konoha can say anything more to him. “I should get home.” He gets to his feet and Konoha follows.
“I’ll walk you out.” He leads Akaashi through the side exit between the storage room and kitchens. People call out to say hello. Konoha grins and waves back.
Akaashi has to remind himself not to feel disappointed. This was only supposed to be a quick visit anyway. And Konoha’s busy. What was he really expecting? He should ask how business is going, but it’s clear that it’s booming. They’re busier than ever. He’s not one to waste words. Konoha opens the door for him.
“You’re not going out with Komi and the others tonight?” Konoha asks.
Akaashi shakes his head. “They left a while ago. There’s a lot going on. They’ll have fun, but father is visiting tomorrow so I’ll have to clean up back home. They won’t be back until late.”
Konoha crosses his arms and frowns. “You need to get out more often, Keiji.”
He says it as kindly as possible, but it takes every effort for Akaashi to contain his exasperated groan. Not this again. Instead, he keeps his face pleasant. “You don’t have to worry about me—”
“But the tailor shop,” Konoha interrupts. “Is that really what you want to do for the rest of your life? You don’t want something more?”
Akaashi blinks, taken aback. “It was my mother’s,” he replies dumbly.
“I know,” Konoha says softly. “I’m sorry—just think about it, okay?”
“I will. Thank you for your concern.” He's curt with his words. As usual, he visits his brother and the most he can expect to get is a lecture. It wouldn’t feel complete without one of those. He goes to leave.
“Stop by again soon,” Konoha calls after him. “It won’t be so busy in a few days.”
The lack in business will barely make a dent. The shop is always packed in like sardines and Konoha knows that. He’s just making sure Akaashi will visit again. And he will. He can’t expect Konoha to go out of his way to visit the tailor shop anymore. He would just say that Akaashi should come to him. Complain that he needs to get some fresh air and see the town for once.
He gives a wave over his shoulder and sets out into the darkening town. His sunset is gone.
*
Everything is dark when Akaashi returns and he has to light the candles to give enough light for him to see. He’ll have to clean the shop up and make sure it’s properly closed and locked for the night before he can move onto the house. A small courtyard separates the shop and the house that sits in the back. Both are small and can barely fit the four of them, but it takes all of them to make each month’s payment. Akaashi tries to keep their father from helping out too much. The tailor shop does well enough, some months more than others. It’s certainly not bringing in as much as the bakery, but then they’re not paying to live in the center of town. Rent is much cheaper here.
He tidies up his workroom and then turns to the rest of the shop. It’s not so bad. A quick sweep and it should be good, he thinks as he grabs his brothers' discarded aprons. Once again they missed the hook. In other words, they left them in a wrinkled mess over their chairs and Akaashi doesn’t have the time to iron them over the weekend. He hangs them neatly. He is about to grab the broom when a rap on the door interrupts him. Sparing a glance to the nearest clock, he thinks it’s much too early for them to be returning and too late for it to be anyone else.
Before he has the chance to grab the door himself, the bell above the door rings, abruptly breaking the silence. A man has entered on his own. Akaashi gets a quick look at him. He has a pretty face set with intense eyes. They seem to look right through him. Seeing the stranger, Akaashi hesitates for only a second.
“I’m sorry,” he says shortly, but offering a polite bow, his grip on the broom tightens, white-knuckled, “but we’re closed for the night. We’ll be open again in the morning if you’d like to stop by then.”
Those eyes refuse to fall on him. The stranger continues further in, ignoring Akaashi’s words and glancing around the room. His nose is scrunched as if smelling something foul. Akaashi gives a quiet sniff of his own. Nothing smells out of the ordinary.
“Not very impressive, is it?” the stranger murmurs to himself.
Akaashi bristles at the comment. He moves over to the door, forcing himself not to stomp or move as stiffly as he feels like. He opens it once more. The cool night breeze drifts in, sending gooseflesh down his arms, but he holds his ground and gestures out into the dark. “The door, sir, is over here.”
He turns slowly to face Akaashi, as if finally realizing he’s not alone. “You know the Owl, correct? I’m looking for him and I can feel his trace all over you.”
“What?” Akaashi takes a step back, standing in his own doorway now. “You’re a sorcerer.”
“Yes, yes—” he flaps his hand absently “—introductions and all that. Oikawa, and you’re Akaashi. Now, the Owl, like I said—”
“I don’t know him,” Akaashi interrupts quickly. Oikawa, he thinks. He’s heard that name before. The king exiled him to the Wastelands years ago. Akaashi thinks quickly. He’s alone in his shop with the second sorcerer he’s met today. For some reason, that’s as far as his brain can get.
As for what to do—he’s drawing a blank. His hands tremble and his grip on the broom tightens instinctively.
Oikawa gives a dramatic roll of his eyes. “I really wanted this to be quick, too.”
Suddenly, the room shrinks in on itself until everything disappears. It is replaced by a darkness that is much thicker than night. It’s not just that the lights have gone out. Akaashi feels as though everything has vanished. If he could, he’d wave a hand in front of his face, but he can’t move an inch. It’s like he’s been steamrolled, the breath knocked clean out of him. He’s been submerged, and something awfully chilly crawls down his back, prickling his skin. The hairs on the back of his neck stand.
It only lasts for a few seconds, but to Akaashi it feels like hours. When the room returns, the gentle candles' lighting nearly blinds him. He throws up a hand, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He’s alone in the room.
“I promise, you’ll give him up eventually.” Oikawa’s voice sounds far away yet echoes within Akaashi’s head. He’s nowhere to be seen. “When you see him, give Bo my love, will you?”
The heaviness in the air lessens. Akaashi feels like he can breathe again. It seems Oikawa’s presence has vanished. He is alone again.
He feels battered. Breathless. Bruised all over. He rubs his hands roughly over his face and freezes. Something feels off. Very off.
With slow steps, he approaches the nearest mirror. There’s plenty of them around for customers. He doesn’t have to go far.
And there he stands. The same as always.
But so very different. That’s not him.
Feathers.
He draws in a slow breath and approaches close enough so that he can reach out and touch the pane of glass. His fingers smudge the glass where they settle and shake. Its coolness soaks into him until he’s shivering again and the trembling moves up his arms. His heart flutters like a bird and he feels lightheaded.
Very slowly, he reaches his other hand up to touch his cheek. Fingertips ghost over his skin. Feathers. Real feathers. They’re black and sprout all over his flesh, tiny and delicate pieces of down. His skin twitches as he skims over them. They’re actually a part of him, attached.
The feathers aren’t thick, they’re tiny, some barely there. They contrast against his quickly paling face. He breathes hard, trying to take this all in.
He quickly unbuttons his shirt, not caring that it crumples to the floor at his feet. His forehead is pressed against the mirror now. His breathing steams the glass and obscures his face. This isn’t him. This is a monster that belongs to the Wastelands. Not human. Not the owner of this tailor shop. Certainly not him.
The feathers continue down his neck. They settle slightly thicker around his collarbone and spread down his arms and across the expanse of his chest. He runs his hands over them. They’re so soft and he’s breathing too fast.
He backs away from the mirror, hands back to his face. Fingers pinch and pull and it hurts worse than if he were plucking hair from his head. The small feathers float to the ground. More appear. They fluff out. An animal instinct. And he feels like an animal. Backed into a corner, only nothing is actually cornering him. He can feel the feathers lifting off his skin.
He wants it to stop.
His vision tunnels and he swings his head around to catch a glimpse of his back. He’s spinning. The room’s spinning. The candles' flames blur everything. They smear the room like paint. He tries to get a grip.
This is what he gets for getting mixed up with sorcerers.
The dam breaks. All the questions and fear and anger are unleashed on his brain. He catches the anger, holds onto it. For some reason, it’s the only feeling that spikes. His heart beats faster, his face flushed.
Fists clench, as if physically trying to hold onto the anger. He glances down through blurry eyes. His nails are black and growing long. The feathers are thick now, traveling up his arm. He can barely see his pale flesh.
He backs into the mirror on shaky legs. It falls with a crash and shatter. Akaashi disappears back into darkness, far, far away.