Archive of Our Own

There's a story Maizuru likes telling anyone who will lend an ear. She'll also tell it to people who don't have any other choice but to listen. As the subject of the story, Toshiro usually escapes being the forced audience. Hien, Benichidori, and Tade don't share such luck, and after all these years, they most likely could tell the story in their sleep. Their tone wouldn't have the same wistful quality as Maizuru's, though. Maybe more regretful that the story doesn't end differently.

He can't blame them either, because the story is not at all interesting if you aren't either Toshiro or Maizuru. It's a fairly short story, but like the paper magic Maizuru used to get Toshiro back in her sight (privately, the face used in her hag spell has haunted Toshiro's nightmares from time to time, following him long past his childhood), her storytelling skills are fairly convoluted, to put it mildly.

Once, when Toshiro was young—about seven, maybe?—he fell into the river not far from the south side of the Nakamoto estate. He had been standing on the river's shore, bent over to look at a water bug moving on the wet grass. Two decades later, he can't remember ever losing his balance, but he must have, because one minute his view turned from the insect inching closer, nearly touching his left sandal, to just—wet.

Every part of him was engulfed in the river water, which wasn't the clearest now, and never gave the best impression, even then. Toshiro had no intention of even dipping his foot in the water despite it being early summer. The temperature would prompt most other children to indulge in a cool dip. Toshiro didn't often indulge in his desires as a child, though. Fear, cowardice, shame, any combination of the three, usually stopped him. That hasn't changed as much as he would have liked it to in adulthood.

He blinked hard in an attempt to reorient himself, his mind startlingly empty. Fortunately, the water wasn't moving at an alarmingly fast speed, and the river wasn't very rocky either. It was a slow sink, both for his body and the realization that he had fallen into the water.

The water was murkier than he expected, and the green algae hanging off the riverbank seemed to taunt Toshiro. He did not want to touch it, even though his body undoubtedly broke through a generous area of the organism. But he knew that the further away he moved from it, the further he was from the surface.

When he was under the water, just like that, he could feel it. He had long been taught about mortality, something instilled in him with the line of work his family partook in, but he had never sat with it like in that moment. Toshiro could feel life, his life, floating right by, completely out of his control. No one had been with him. Hien was doing her own chores, and Maizuru was watching over her.

That was exactly why Toshiro had made his way out to the river in the first place. On his last visit, he had seen a group of the same water bugs making their way around the river. He was called back home before he could look closer. Even now, Toshiro remembers wondering if he would meet someone who could look at the bugs with him without any uneasiness. He hadn't told anyone about this interest, and now, in the water, he felt that chance slipping from him.

I don't want to die. This is a stupid reason to die. This thought was what struck him to move, to pull himself up before the pressure got too strong and he'd only continue sinking. Toshiro used all of the willpower he didn't previously know he had to swim up, feeling that he must've sunk such a great depth when it was maybe triple his height at seven years old. He pushed onto the slimy rocks along the riverbed, his face uncomfortably close to the packed dirt. It took him a moment before he finally broke through the surface, wildly grasping his right hand onto the shore. The hard edges of the rocks above the water dug into his palm, a stark contrast to the ones his left hand was slipping on. Then, a firm grip took hold of his left arm and pulled him up.

He held tightly onto whoever had taken him out of the river. Feeling the rough grass along his ankles, he was grateful for the sensation even if it brought him itchy patches on his skin. Toshiro blinked hard again, just like he did under the water. Maizuru's white sleeves, flowy and familiar, were damp, holding him halfway up under his arms.

"What were you thinking?" Her immediate mixture of reproach and concern grounded Toshiro. He was okay. He didn't die. "What if I hadn't been here? If I had come even a moment later?"

On reflection, from the time he walked over to the river's shore to falling into it to being pulled back onto land, he thinks only about ten minutes had passed. It was only a moment before Maizuru quickly pulled him out of the water, her strong grip being his anchor. But time moved differently underwater, Toshiro concluded.

What Toshiro noticed when Maizuru helped him up, his legs feeling as if he had recently undergone a vigorous training session with his retainers, was that the water bug was no longer sitting in the grass. He had regretfully disturbed its peace. He meekly walked home with Maizuru close behind him, more watchful than ever.

Afterward, he rarely returned to the river alone. When asked what happened that time, he only said he had been distracted and fallen in. The water bug had been a private thing, and disclosing it felt too personal. Too unrestrained, somehow. That was the takeaway Toshiro had gotten from that experience, floating in his mind every time the story was retold.

"He pulled himself to the shore." Maizuru finishes telling the story in its twentieth iteration—depending on her mood, Maizuru either emphasizes Toshiro's strength or skips to the part where she saved him—to the woman at the food stand with pride. She then raises an eyebrow at Toshiro, never forgetting to remind him he only got halfway there. "You're lucky I got there in time."

Toshiro nods silently, not disputing her version of the story. He really had been fortunate.

Maizuru faces the young girl standing at her mother's side. "That's why you shouldn't run off alone like that again. It can be very dangerous not only for children, but for adults, too."

The girl, who couldn't be much younger than Toshizane, nods. She had wandered off from her mother's stand, wading into the area of businesses closest to the Nakamoto home. While Toshiro and Maizuru went into one of the shops to find a gift for Toshiyuki, whose birthday was coming up, Maizuru took notice of the girl. Gift shopping was derailed while they accompanied the girl back to her mother. Toshiro didn't have high hopes of finding something for Toshiyuki in that store anyway. The things they sold there were too practical for his younger brother's liking.

"Okay. Thank you." The girl's voice is quiet, and after a quick bow, she retreats behind her mother. Toshiro sympathizes with her. He wonders if she was distracted looking at something with childlike wonder, something he hasn't done since he left the island.

As they walk away, Maizuru laughs to herself. Toshiro's quizzical expression is met with her matter-of-fact explanation: "I am sure that girl will learn her lesson now, the way you did with the river. You never went off there on your own afterward."

Toshiro hides the grimace that nearly flashes on his face and manages a quick nod before they fall into silence for the rest of their walk home. This is where Maizuru and his version of that story stray from one another.

What Toshiro had learned from that day wasn't how to be safe. Instead, he had felt the utter absence of control from having to fight for his life in a manner disparate from how he was trained. On the job, sure, he knew the risks, but the Toshiro who fell into the river was seven and only trying to look at a bug. He walked away feeling childish and not wanting to die. If Toshiro thought about it harder, it boiled down to not being able to control how he died, but knowing he didn't want it to be because of something ridiculous. He thinks, rather meanly, that if anyone were to do that, it'd be his father, likely falling somewhere in a drunken stupor.

That lack of control when he was in the water represented everything Toshiro hated about being human sometimes. An early childhood marker of what would come to be one of the many feelings he'd do his best to repress, to ignore. He used to be able to say he had been avoiding that feeling of helplessness ever since, but that was no longer true.

After arriving on the island and joining the Touden party in the dungeons, his feelings about control became increasingly complicated, what with his father's unattainable task hanging over him and interpersonal relationships that became quietly, unexpectedly important. In more ways than he initially realized, meeting Laios and the others changed his life entirely.

His relationship with control was bound to be shaken by the dungeons anyhow. There, one could be pulled from death's door. Resurrection was possible. The thing about dying and being revived repeatedly is that you could gain a false sense of security, of control, that fell apart entirely outside of the dungeon. It jarred Toshiro that in that environment, life and death was something people could have more control over. The magic gave Toshiro a horrifying yet riveting feeling. In some ways, it felt like they were playing with fate. Or fire. He knows it's not how it works, but sometimes he wonders if every resurrection he experienced in the dungeon would be something he'd have to pay back one day.

And, as it turns out, one could become careless about death when in the dungeons. Toshiro and his party members never were, but he can't say he doesn't understand it. When he experienced death for the first time by the bite of a cockatrice, Toshiro did not feel the same powerlessness from the river, because one moment he was alive, and the next he was dead, leaving no time for Toshiro's life to flash before his eyes. The third moment, thanks to Marcille's expertise in magic and Laios's leading the others to meticulously collect his stone pieces, he was alive again. When he first came back to life, he felt odd, like he had an out-of-body experience. Mana was coursing through his body. He didn't feel entirely attached to himself. Whatever divides a human between their body and what makes them, them—their soul, whatever—it felt disjointed for a moment. Off-kilter, as if something had happened that shouldn't have. The feeling didn't ring false to Toshiro because, really, he should've stayed dead.

He lived, though. Over and over again, he lived, and things that were so overwhelmingly out of his control kept happening. Falin was saved. They had a feast with the red dragon meat. The winged lion was defeated. Laios was crowned King of Melini. His experiences on the island and in the dungeons necessitated the relinquishment of control at almost every turn. Every show of hand, every act of vulnerability, was and has been an acceptance of some degree of helplessness. Leaving himself open to another person's choice. Leaving himself open to trust.

Like most things, it's a work in progress. Control is still something Toshiro is trying to get a better handle on these days. Hold something too tight, and it'll break. Too loose, and it'll slip away. Over a year ago, taking care of himself and his own feelings felt self-serving. It was too much. If he pushed those emotions down, then he thought they were under control. In fact, they were boiling over. When they reached the precipice, finally on the surface, they either missed the mark—here, he is reminded of his misguided, but ultimately sincere proposal to Falin—or they were too forceful, too hurtful—and here, he naturally recalls his and Laios's fight. Proposing to one friend, getting into a fist fight with another, while running on little sleep and food. Toshiro was never going to leave the island as the same person he was when he arrived.

Unsurprisingly, the art of letting go doesn't come as easily as the art of pushing aside and repressing. Toshiro didn't know what he expected when he returned to Wa, but in the year since, he has been juggling more responsibilities as his father seems more interested in the possibility of leaving him in charge of the clan. He hadn't brought anything his father would deem interesting home; it had always been a wild goose chase. Toshiro surmised his father only gave him more work because he was the oldest, but whatever the reason was, he focused on fulfilling his duties.

Not all of the responsibilities were easily accomplished. Socializing was the hardest one for Toshiro. He could read a room just fine, but even then, he has neither the charm nor the propensity for drinking that his father does. From Toshiro's perspective, those qualities do the job best, or at least make the time spent doing so much more tolerable. Toshiro is truly not the right fit, and as a leader, he thinks he should know how to delegate so he can focus on other tasks. He delegates his social obligations as much as possible, but he ultimately has to leave the most important people to either himself or his father, lest they view it as a slight that only a representative is sent to show up to their meeting. Fortunately, most people still want to see Toshiro's father. Not that Toshiro understands that, but he's happy to skip a meal or round of drinking when he can.

There is one circle of people he can socialize with, though, thanks to his unique ties to a new island that popped up in the water. Since Toshiro returned home, he has maintained varying levels of contact with the people he met on Melini. He gets letters from Falin and Namari from time to time. Falin hasn't gotten around to visiting Wa yet, but she has shared her desire to see him, hopefully sometime in the warmer months.

The most frequent contact and maybe his strongest political tie would be with Laios. It's a political relationship only nominally. Before he is a friend of the King of Melini, Toshiro is friends with Laios Touden, a Northerner who invited him to join his and his sister's party. Plus, Melini has been trying to improve its relationship with the nearby Kahka Brud after the appearance of the island completely upended their coastal fishing industry. They have bigger concerns than the Nakamoto clan all the way on the Eastern Archipelago.

The distance not leading to them drifting apart was something that surprised Toshiro. In their dungeon-exploring days, the party members did not spend time together outside of missions. Going through the whole winged lion ordeal and Laios becoming the king changed everything, he supposes. He can't deny that those experiences have left an indelible mark on his life.

All the same, while Toshiro expected and began cherishing Laios's enthusiasm that never seemed to dwindle when it came to talking to him, he wouldn't have been surprised if Laios's duties as a king took him away from regular contact. However, over a year has passed since they last saw one another, and Toshiro could still expect a letter to arrive in the same white envelope, on the same yellow paper, and with the same stamp, the logo deriving from Yaad's lineage. The letter arrived every two weeks, as punctual as the morning call of the cockatrice in the dungeon.

The letters Toshiro receives are like streams of consciousness, diary entries that encompass most of the things that have happened since the previous letter or updates on things Laios mentioned before. They remind Toshiro of the night they met at the tavern, a memory he now looks fondly on. Laios addresses him as Toshiro in the letters, which is odd since he only heard Laios say his actual name a handful of times right before he left Melini. He doesn't mind if Laios or others still call him Shuro, a nickname he has become accustomed to, but Laios seeing him fully as himself, as Toshiro, is nice. His name is written neatly in the opening of every letter, punctuated with a smiley face, and Toshiro doesn't feel the same urge to hide himself from Laios that he still struggles with in his other relationships.

Laios scribbles tiny doodles on the corner of his letters. If Chilchuck, Senshi, or Izutsumi visits, Laios will doodle them. He gives more effort to the monsters that Izutsumi brings back and shows him at the castle, but then, this is the man who drew the ultimate strongest monster, so drawing monsters comes more naturally than drawing humans. If Yaad is lecturing Laios about something, he will draw him with steam coming out of his ears. Recently, though, Laios has been including little Toshiro doodles in the margins. He dots them throughout the letter, giving Toshiro speech bubbles where he imagines Toshiro's reactions to the contents of his letter.

It's charming and dizzying, actually, how much Laios seems to have grown to understand Toshiro. He agrees with what the doodle version of himself says. He also feels oddly shy about Laios's version of him, long hair tied back, expression stoic or taken aback, even in a sketched form. Toshiro is no artist—Maizuru can attest to her fruitless attempts otherwise—but he feels compelled to return the scribbles each time. He draws his own Laios with his short blond hair, big eyes, and wide smile. Soon, he begins penciling Laios's own thoughts, but Laios has always been more open about some things and Toshiro about much fewer things, so it's a bit easier to gauge how Laios might react to Toshiro's words.

Still, Toshiro finds it difficult to lay everything out in the open and write things down for someone else's eyes to read. Updating Laios about his everyday life reads back as comparatively mundane, or at least it should be for a king. Laios doesn't seem to think so.

After a week in which his father has been particularly mercurial and difficult to manage, Toshiro feels a pulsing, persistent headache and a compulsion to tell Laios everything. He's never quite felt like he had a close friend, a confidant, until now, but the act of confiding still takes effort from Toshiro.

My father. He crosses the words out. His mind casts immediate doubt that Laios wants to hear about him. Toshiro doesn't even want to hear about him, and neither do his younger brothers. But he takes a deep breath, penning the words again anyway. He could rip up the letter afterward. He didn't have to send it.

The weather here has been getting cooler, but even when the sun is out, my father moves like he's got his personal thundercloud looming over him. He can be quiet and agreeable one moment and unbearable the next. And when he's unbearable, he's so, so loud. Like a brown-eared bulbul, squeaky and shrill, but at least their calls serve a purpose.

Toshiro smiles at the last line as he writes it, already feeling the weight disappear from his head. For Laios's twenty-seventh birthday last month, Toshiro commissioned a drawing of a brown-eared bulbul, a bird native to Wa and the other eastern islands. He included a stray feather he had found after a flock of birds was shooed away from the agricultural fields close to his home. He chose to include a feather because earlier in the year, for Toshiro's own twenty-seventh birthday, he received a package alongside his letter.

Inside the package was a cockatrice feather, which was completely perplexing and also wholly characteristic of Laios. Considering that his first death was due to a cockatrice, he didn't know why Laios would think he wanted a memento of the monster. From Laios's letter, he learned it was from a natural dungeon, and the monster had petrified Senshi, too. He left Kensuke and his armor in that dungeon to keep the monsters at bay. The memory made him think of moving forward with his life, leaving the monsters behind for now (reluctantly, since they now ran from him), and being more careful with his life. He ended the letter telling Toshiro he was happy to be alive, even without being near monsters, and he hoped that Toshiro would have many more birthdays to come.

So, Toshiro returned the gesture with a feather of his own. He had told Laios that he hoped to bring him to see the bird in person himself. It's no monster, but it's an agricultural pest, which I'd say is close enough to being a monster outside of the dungeons.

Airing out all his grievances about his father, Toshiro pauses. He dedicates another paragraph to addressing Laios's thanks for the birthday gift. In the afternoons that Toshiro receives Laios's letters, he usually blocks off upwards of two hours to respond to him and sends out the letter the next morning. It wasn't because he didn't know what to say, but because he needed that much time to convince himself to write it down. Letting himself reveal his misgivings about his father to Laios was relieving, but the chance of his backing out of sending out the letter was high. He hands it off to an attendant before he can change his mind.

Waiting two weeks for a response can be, at least for Toshiro, distracting. About a week for the letter to travel from Wa to Melini, and then another week for Laios's reply to arrive. The wait doesn't consume Toshiro's mind, but in the absence of a letter, he's usually experiencing things that he finds himself looking forward to telling Laios. Wanting to tell someone things was new to him. Laios becoming the person he wanted to tell was a development Toshiro hadn't foreseen.

When the two-week mark hits, though, the attendant in charge of the mail hands him a pile. He doesn't see the characteristically white envelope. Toshiro sifts through primarily work-related scrolls, a letter addressed to Hien he pockets to give her himself later, and nothing else.

He looks over at the attendant, gesturing to the letters, packaged in red or brown. No white envelope. "Is this all?"

"I'm sorry, young master." He blinks and then tilts the box that was holding the mail toward Toshiro. Perfectly and disappointingly empty. "Were you expecting something else?"

Expecting? That puts too much weight on it. These weren't work or political matters; they were personal communications, which, thinking about it that way, makes it sound even more important. Assigns almost too much importance. "No." He shakes his head. "No, there's nothing else."

The attendant walks off, and Toshiro worries his lip. There has never been a delay in Laios's letter, except for when weather conditions didn't allow the ships to sail smoothly. Winter was coming next week, but there wasn't any snow in the archipelago yet. Maybe Melini had been suffering a snowstorm. He has no idea.

Mulling over the letter wasn't productive, and he was struck by his own disappointment. One unexpectedly late letter, so what? It's not like he had a fairy to communicate with Laios. It was fine.

Toshiro feels Hien's letter in his pocket and decides to focus on giving it to her instead of sitting in his dismay. His search for the ninja doesn't take long. Stopping outside of the women's shared quarters, the open window letting in a chill breeze, he spots her immediately. Hien lounges on the mat in the center of the room, her arms crossed behind her head, and, like always, is taking advantage of her time to herself. Benichidori and Tade must be tied up with something with Maizuru, and as the most senior of the three, Hien helps herself to a reprieve.

Even while relaxing, her training does its job. Without opening her eyes, she asks him, "Something the matter?" The tone in which she asks the question tells Toshiro she knows it's him in the corridor. He feels like he will always be the boy, somehow years and years younger than her in perception, despite their mere two-month age difference.

"Ah, no." Toshiro coughs. He walks up to her and holds out the letter. "You have mail."

Hien pops one eye open, taking note of the scroll. She jumps up onto her feet in one smooth motion, smiling as she takes it from his hand. Her fringe has moved out of place, swept more to the right when she was in a relaxed position. "Thanks."

When Toshiro uncharacteristically makes no move to leave the room, Hien frowns. "Uh, hello?" She waves a hand in his face, and he takes a step back. "Is there something else?"

"No. Sorry." He raises his hands to his waist apologetically. "I was distracted."

Having already unraveled the scroll, Hien's eyes hover over the singular page, and she hums pleasantly as she reaches the end of the pale green paper. Toshiro wonders who her letter is from, and he'd ask if he didn't think she'd brush him off and call him nosy. He's about to walk off, but Hien looks up from her letter and raises her eyebrow at him. "Distracted by what?"

Toshiro bites his cheek. He had not expected Hien to press the subject. He struggles to think of a response but decides he can be honest. It isn't anything he needs to hide. "I'm just waiting for a letter of my own, that's all."

She gives him a knowing look as she folds her letter back up. "Oh. You mean from Laios." She doesn't say it like a question, but, to be fair, that's a given. He's not really waiting for anyone's letter besides Laios's. Toshiro doesn't bother confirming or denying, but his returning stare seems to be confirmation for Hien.

"You know," she says, twirling her ponytail in her left hand. "You don't have to wait for the letter if you want to hear from him."

Toshiro furrows his brows. "What do you mean?"

She points unflinchingly at Toshiro's chest. "That is your connection to Laios, isn't it?"

Toshiro's hand reflexively moves toward his chest. At first, he feels his heart, and he can feel his heart rate quickening at the implication of Hien's words. But then he moves his hand to the right, palming the bell pocketed safely in his clothes. Oh, right. Despite the wintry breeze coming behind him, his cheeks feel uncomfortably hot.

"Um, I have to go." Toshiro's words sound unconvincing even to himself as he mutters them out, and he gives Hien a short nod before walking off. He can feel her watching him, probably with amusement.

It's not that Toshiro had forgotten about the bell. It's on his body every day. The melodic ring, copying its owner's gait, is one Toshiro has long memorized. It's the same as the birds that hang on the tall branches of the trees scattered across the yard. Always present, a quiet hum that only becomes noticeable when you pay attention to it. But he wasn't noticing Laios's every movement. Truthfully, most of the time, he was busy. Even though Toshiro hadn't brought back anything materially interesting to Wa, his father seemed to enjoy stepping back from things and giving himself time to have fun, whatever that meant to him.

The bell was always there, but its ring only became important during certain moments. When Toshiro left Melini after Falin woke up, Laios had rung his bell three distinct times. Toshiro returned the same rhythms without knowing what Laios meant, and not knowing what he meant, either. Despite the uncertainty, besides the letters, those three rings have become a staple for their communication.

The bell became the perfect shorthand when Toshiro felt like telling Laios something that would be lost in translation, or maybe something that somehow transcended language. Or, it wasn't for any poetic reason at all, but a far simpler and more common issue: Sometimes, Toshiro didn't know what he wanted to say, and therefore, he didn't know how to say it.

Three rings, three words. Toshiro doesn't always think of anything in particular when he rings the bell. But he does it anyway, because it bridges the geographical distance between them.

Thinking of you. I miss you. Hello, it's Toshiro.

When the bell rings back, or Laios initiates his own rings, Toshiro has no idea what he means. In this way, the bell has been a practice of letting go of control. They could mean anything: nothing at all or—everything.

It's flawed. And it's in these moments of uncertainty when Toshiro wishes he were back in the dungeons with Laios in the cot right next to him. He used to think he would never miss the ease of access to him. He was wrong.

He was wrong, and now he sits in his room, wondering what Laios is doing at the moment. Toshiro stares at the small bell in his hand, thinking before he shakes it. Ring. Ring. Ring. He breathes and waits. It was impractical to believe Laios could return the gesture immediately. Based on the sun and their geographical locations, early evening on the archipelago is around late afternoon on Melini. Maybe he was in a meeting. Or worse, hosting a diplomat.

Why did Toshiro do that? He lies down on his bed, covering his eyes with the back of his hand, the other hand holding the bell in a tight fist. Has he become too hedonistic? What did he expect from Laios? It was just a letter. Laios would respond to him when he got to it. It wasn't like the bells meant anything in particular. It wasn't like—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The sound comes out muffled from within Toshiro's hand, but it is unmistakably intentional. Toshiro opens his eyes, raising the bell above his face. Hello, he thinks. You're okay. Relief blossoms in his chest, and he returns the bell to its pocket.

Toshiro receives his awaited letter two days later. He wastes no time, his eyes scanning its contents. Laios's familiar handwriting is across the page, but the paper feels fancier, thicker. Fit for a king, he imagines.

Laios shows empathy for Toshiro's struggles with his father, sharing his own with his parents. They had yet to visit Melini, and he doesn't know if or when they ever will. He admits that he leaves the conversations to Falin. Toshiro pockets the warmth and recognition he feels from Laios's words.

Then, Laios reveals that Melini's first winter festival will be underway in a month. Toshiro had been informed of these plans when they first started discussing them months prior, and now, they were ready to start sending invites. The first winter in Melini had been a slow one as they readied the island for guests. A year and a half after Laios was crowned king, he, Yaad, and Kabru must have decided that a celebration commemorating the kingdom would build morale. They were inviting representatives from nearby cities, hoping their presence would be an act of solidarity. A show of political unity for the new island.

The tone of Laios's letter then turns fancier, more formal, and Toshiro imagines Kabru stepping in and dictating to Laios. As the King of Melini, I would like to extend an invitation to you and your family to attend Melini's first winter festival. We hope to be graced with your presence, and we are looking forward to hosting you.

Sending out hundreds of invitations for the festival must have been a hectic experience for Laios. Toshiro hadn't entertained the idea of returning to Melini anytime soon. They were both so busy. He could feel the excitement already slowly bubbling inside him.

He checks the letter again before folding it up, and another paper slips out from underneath it. This one is written on the usual yellow paper. It's a short message.

Waiting for your letter takes too long! He doodles himself frowning, and Toshiro laughs. That impatient feeling is all too familiar to Toshiro. Ring your bell three times at the next sunset if you are able to make it, five times if you can't. I should be returning to my quarters after supper by then.

Toshiro takes a breath. A commitment behind three rings of the bell. It would mean he had a known date for when he would see Laios again after over a year. It meant a reunion that Toshiro had been thinking about probably far too often.

His first thought, unwelcome, is to decline the invitation. Toshiro doesn't ring the bell when the sun sets that night. Dark clouds pepper the sky with streaks of orange and pink peeking through. It doesn't feel right. He lets himself blame the weather as if it has any bearing on his response to Laios, or lack thereof. It's not like Laios knows when Toshiro received his letter, but the guilty feeling pricks him anyway. He doesn't want to say no. He has no reason to say no. He has every reason, too many reasons, to say yes. Political affiliation with Melini wouldn't hurt the Nakamoto clan. He could see many of his friends. Maizuru and the others could use a trip. But really, the most important thing is that he would be able to see Laios again.

Caring so much will never cease to startle Toshiro. Caring so much that he goes into action, that he makes plans to see Laios again? Toshiro has done this before. Go into the dungeon, return for the woman he loved—does love, only not in the way he thought he did. This time, go onto the boat, return to see the man he—cares about. One of his first genuine friends.

It is this train of thought that pushes him to pen a response detailing his intent to attend the festival. Dear Laios, Toshiro begins writing. His handwriting is a bit messier than usual, not up to Maizuru's standard by far, but he can't take his time writing. The slower he moves, the more likely he is to toss the letter into a fire, never to make its way into Laios's hands.

He finishes by telling Laios his estimated day of arrival, the night before the winter festival. Toshiro only feels comfortable ringing his bell to indicate his intention to attend the festival when he sends his letter off. He doesn't want to risk backing out. Then, he arranges travel plans with Maizuru, asking their captain to ready the ship for their departure in a few weeks. Toshiro informs Hien, Benichidori, and Tade that they have been invited to accompany him to a winter festival, and all three seem happy to get away from Wa for a few days.

When Tade asks him where they're going, Hien interrupts. "The island, where else?"

Hien looks at Toshiro, but he doesn't say anything. Underneath, he hears another meaning in her question. To see Laios, who else?

Every night on their ship ride to Melini, someone rings their bell. The other returns the ring enthusiastically. See you soon, it seems to say.

Even as he feels the distance between them closing, Toshiro doesn't quite trust it. He doesn't trust it until he sees Melini's familiar shoreline, rocky with new buildings dispersed up and down, highlighted by the lampposts littered around.

The sun has set. They already ate dinner on the boat. It's getting late, and it has been a while since they have spent an extended amount of time in the water. Toshiro knows Benichidori is itching to sleep in a bed on solid ground. Truthfully, so is he.

When they dock, three men appear. They take their luggage and tell them they will be accompanying them to their hostel. They arrive at a three-story brick building where half of the first floor has been booked by their party. Each of them has been generously given their own room, though Toshiro suspects Hien will slip into Benichidori's at some point. The one on the very north end of the hallway is Toshiro's; in the low light of the lantern, he makes out a cloud as the unique symbol engraved on the door.

Maizuru gives each man a copious tip. They bow thankfully, and two of them begin to walk off. Maizuru and the others go into their rooms, and Toshiro can hear them appraising the decor.

The man who lingered, the tallest one, stops Toshiro before he can enter his room. "Excuse me, sir." He pulls out a letter from his pocket. "This is for you."

Toshiro takes it, holding his lantern higher. The envelope reveals it's from Laios. Toshiro smiles, then nods at the man. "Thank you." He grabs a coin from his bag, slipping it into the man's hand, before shuffling into his room to read the letter.

I hope the journey was smooth. I'm sorry I couldn't meet you at the docks tonight. Yaad said I need to sleep early to prepare for the opening parade. He doodles Yaad with an exasperated expression. I've eaten so many dinners this past week as guests arrived, but I've been looking forward to you getting here the most, Toshiro! I will see you tomorrow evening to walk around the festival stands together.

Toshiro thinks he should feel nervous about seeing Laios again, but he doesn't. Not yet, at least. He places the letter on the nightstand. The promise of tomorrow evening hovers in his mind as he falls into a peaceful slumber.

The five of them wake up early for breakfast at an establishment a short walk from the hostel. The parade starts shortly before noon on the main street. Until then, they planned to busy themselves with visiting the stores that had opened up on Melini.

Toshiro distractedly walks through the streets, following the women as they sift through jewelry at one shop. A thought comes to him. Should he bring Laios a gift? They had already prepared a gift basket on behalf of the Nakamoto clan, but there was nothing personal about that present. Should Toshiro individually get a gift for Laios? He regrets not thinking of it earlier. Buying something from the very island Laios lives on seems insincere.

Toshiro wanders away from the others, walking into a bookshop. Does Laios have time to read? He would get him some fantasy books, but he thinks Laios would spend more time nitpicking at the inaccuracies about monsters than he would enjoy the story. The gift should be useful, something practical that wouldn't bother him. Even though he doubts that Laios would be bothered by any gift from Toshiro, he doesn't want him to feign happiness. Toshiro scans the store, walking to a corner stocked with stationery and other items. Finally, his eyes land on what he hopes will be the perfect gift.

When they make their way to the street where the parade will start, it's already packed on both sides of it. Banners highlighting the event hang high over the crowd. The body heat from the aggregation of people lessens the sharpness of the cold.

The five of them take up a spot on the left side of the street, facing a building that, from the posters hanging on its windows, sells dumplings. Open tonight! Food stand opens before sunset!

A horn goes off, playing a cheery tune that opens the parade. The crowd erupts before falling to silence as a float pulled by a carriage turns onto the street. On the float, Toshiro sees Laios. Yaad stands vigil at his side, keeping an eye on who pays obeisance to the king. Kabru is on Laios's other side, looking regal with his dark blue coat over his tunic. The crowd cheers as Laios waves at them.

As the float approaches where they're standing, Toshiro gets a better view of Laios. From this angle, he looks fuller and healthier. Toshiro is reminded of Laios telling him he had to take care of himself, that he would be no use to Falin if he fell apart while trying to save her. He's glad to see that Laios is taking his own advice, even with his busy schedule.

When their float passes by them, Kabru notices Toshiro first. He gives him a quick wave before tapping Laios's shoulder. Laios quickly scans the area before his eyes lock with Toshiro's.

Laios's face breaks into a large, radiant smile, and Toshiro lets out a breath. This is the longest time they've spent without seeing each other since they met, and only now does it dawn on Toshiro how much he missed Laios. A small part of him was illogically worried Laios wouldn't be equally as happy to see him, but his smile proves otherwise.

The people around them keep cheering, and someone throws a pillow that a guard deftly catches. Toshiro can't blame the crowd for their ruckus. He can't seem to look away either. He smiles back at Laios, waving softly. The couple standing on Toshiro's left cheer loudly. "Is he smiling at us? King Laios!"

Toshiro laughs to himself, lowering his hand as the next float crosses them. This one is decorated with buckets and fish, representing the fishing industry vital to Melini. He sees the flag of Kahka Brud on one end of it, marking the alliance the two areas have made in their trade.

Toshiro is still smiling when he turns away from the float, looking off at the others. Maizuru and Hien, standing to his right, are already looking at him, their expressions curious. Toshiro coughs and awkwardly averts their gaze. If they wanted to ask him about Laios, then he would have nothing to say. They're friends. They haven't even properly interacted yet, but they will. Soon. Not that Toshiro is counting down the hours or anything.

Toshiro stands under a string of lantern lights at the entrance of the festival. The festival stands stretch across the center of the island, ending at an area off the western coast. People of all ages and races are already filling the area. The others took some time pointing at the stands they wanted to check out on the large map painted on a poster to the right of the festival entrance before splitting from Toshiro twenty minutes prior.

"We're going to get some food. Have fun," Hien said, and Toshiro swore he saw her wink at him. He blushed, not saying a word before Benichidori and Tade pulled her away.

Now, Toshiro waits at the entrance alone, observing the energetic crowd. He hadn't gotten the chance to reunite with all of the people he knew were staying on visiting the island yet, but he had seen Namari, Falin, Marcille, and Chilchuck briefly throughout the day, and they all looked like they were having fun.

The festival map he's standing near shows a weaponry stand that he's sure Namari would be checking out if she weren't running it herself. Noodles, face painting, masks, lanterns. Toshiro privately compliments the committee that planned the festival. It looked like a well-organized event for such a young place.

Toshiro glances up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set. Snow lightly dusts the streets, but there is no sign of any snowfall. He's a bit disappointed. Some light snow while walking through the festival would have been nice. Laios would be here any minute. It was only as he was standing there that Toshiro realized he had forgotten to bring gloves. They sat in his bag in the hostel room.

Toshiro straightens the blue haori he wears over his green kimono. He pats his pockets, one holding Laios's gift, the other his bell. Between the sounds of vendors shouting out orders, a nearby stand of a gnome creating snow statues drawing a crowd, and a group of children singing a folk song as they skip through the festival, the same bell rings melodiously. Three times, as always. Toshiro smiles, swiveling his head to find Laios. Would he be trailed by bodyguards, Yaad ever vigilant about his safety? The thought made Toshiro a little uncomfortable, even though he understood. But when he finally spots Laios, he sees that he's alone.

Laios strolls up to him. He's as dressed down as a king could be, wearing a blue fur-lined coat that flows behind him with a red tunic underneath. The smile on Laios's face is as bright as the one Toshiro glimpsed earlier, one of many he has become accustomed to seeing since they've met. He tries to push down the voice that questions why he remains on the receiving end of Laios's sincere, happy smiles.

As if it were something they did often, as if it were something Toshiro did often, he reaches forward to pull Laios into a hug. He sees Laios's eyebrows briefly raise in surprise before his chin rests comfortably on Laios's shoulder. Laios is warm. From the breadth of his shoulders, Toshiro knew he was right. Laios's body had gotten fuller, and it suited him. They hugged each other for a few more seconds, Laios's gloved hands resting on Toshiro's back.

When they pull away from each other, Toshiro gets the feeling their cheeks will be tired from smiling so much, but it can't be helped. His mouth is moving on its own accord, not wanting to let up from the smile. Laios turns to survey the lively crowd moving around the festival grounds. He seems to approve of what he sees. Then, looking at Toshiro, he says softly, "I'm really glad you're here, Toshiro."

His own name still sounds new and strange out of Laios's mouth. It also sounds, paradoxically, just right. "Me too," Toshiro replies, his gentle tone matching Laios's.

Laios sweeps his arm out, gesturing for them to enter the festival. Toshiro nods, and they fall into step with one another. As they walk through the crowd, the citizens of Melini wave at Laios. Toshiro is surprised to find he's on a first-name basis with many of them.

"King Laios!" A woman at a soba stand calls him over.

Laios's eyes light up, and he pulls Toshiro's arm over to the stand. "Hello, Helene. This is my friend, Toshiro."

Helene turns and smiles at Toshiro, who nods at her. "Hello."

"How is the festival going for you?" Laios asks. "I see a lot of people with your soba."

It's true. The bowls of food her patrons walk away with look appetizing. Each bowl has a fire symbol drawn on it. That must be her shop's logo.

"Going well," she replies as she stirs the giant pot of broth behind her. "Would you and your friend like some?"

Laios looks at Toshiro, tilting his head. Toshiro smiles softly at Helene, nodding. "Can we get two bowls, please?"

Toshiro grabs the bowls from the counter as Laios places coins into Helene's hands. He usually eats his soba cold, but the steam from the broth helps warm up his face and hands. Toshiro hands Laios his bowl as they continue walking.

Laios points out things as they move, and Toshiro fills out the images that had been forming in his mind, connecting dots from the long descriptions Laios's letters provided. He also notices guards dispersed inconspicuously in the crowd. They are dressed in regular clothes, but their careful gazes reveal a measure probably enacted by Yaad in an effort to protect Laios and others.

"Lanterns will be released on the coast in half an hour!" A half-foot announces. "Make your lantern now!"

Then, the man turns to Laios. His hair is a chocolate brown, reminding Toshiro of Chilchuck, but his demeanor is cheerier. "King Laios, you will be there, right?"

"Yes," Laios responds, nodding in the direction of the coast. "I will see you there, Telford. Save me a lantern, please."

"One for you, too?" Telford looks at Toshiro.

Toshiro glances at Laios, then shrugs. His only plans tonight were with Laios, and looking at lanterns couldn't be a bad time. "Sure. Thank you."

Telford smiles and walks off, leaving Laios and Toshiro to continue exploring the festival together. Every so often, people pull Laios aside, greeting him happily. Toshiro is glad to see Laios well-liked. He knew he would make a good king, and seeing evidence of that makes him happier than he realized it would. The crowd is still large even as the sun goes down, loud with different conversations, including Laios and Toshiro's own.

"Deon! Over here!" A deep voice calls. "We have to try that," says one woman. Someone asks, "Is that the king?" A voice passes by them and wonders out loud, "Who is that with him?"

Toshiro's grip on his bowl tightens. He's not at all embarrassed to be seen with Laios—fleetingly, he hopes Laios isn't embarrassed to be seen with him—but the attention isn't something he is used to. He'll get used to it, though. He is the friend of a king, after all. He knows, or at least hopes, this won't be the last time he is seen with him.

They keep walking, disposing of their empty bowls in the closest dumpster. Finally, the crowd of people begins to peter out as they near a patch of field closer to the coast. People haven't gathered around yet to release the floating lanterns fashioned with bamboo frames and rice paper. They're alone.

Laios pulls them to a bench facing the water. The sounds of the festival goers have slightly faded, a hum not too far from them. It's a nice ambiance. Toshiro rests his hands in his lap and sits on Laios's left, their shoulders grazing. The stone bench is cool under their bodies, lit by the reflection of the moon peeking out from under the clouds and the nearest lamppost.

Laios gently nudges Toshiro with his shoulder. "What did you think?"

Toshiro looks at him. Laios listens intently as Toshiro appraises the festival, hanging onto his words like they mean something. The attention of a king is given entirely to Toshiro, the same way it was before Laios had any title. It's a bit intoxicating, Toshiro thinks. Selfishly, he almost wants to bottle it up for himself, this attention that he doesn't want from others but is welcome from Laios.

"I think this festival will become a good tradition for years to come," Toshiro concludes. "We will come again next year if you host it again."

"I'm happy to hear you say that." Laios smiles before he puffs out his cheeks, frowning. Toshiro can see his breath in the air. The temperature is dropping as the night begins to set in. He gently knocks his foot against Toshiro's. "But a year is a long time. I hope you find other reasons to come back here more often."

Toshiro blinks. He's not sure what Laios means, and he's about to ask when Laios points up. He feels it before he sees it, flecks of snow falling on his shoulders. The snowfall is light, not enough to send people home, fortunately, but just enough to be pretty and set the mood.

Toshiro holds his palm out, letting a snowflake fall into his hand. He glances at Laios, who is doing the same. A fleck of snow has fallen onto Laios's forehead, stuck to a strand of hair. Toshiro leans forward to brush the snow off, the edge of his palm skimming over Laios's face. Abruptly, Laios grabs his hand, and Toshiro stops. Laios turns to him, and panic briefly rises in Toshiro.

Laios looks miffed, pulling Toshiro's bare hand between his gloved ones, and then grabbing the other one out of Toshiro's lap. "Your hands are so cold! Why aren't you wearing gloves?"

"I, uh, I forgot them in my room." Toshiro is dumbfounded as he watches Laios carefully rub his hands together in between his gloves. Then, he pulls a yellow and red pair from his pocket, slowly pulling them over Toshiro's hands. Laios's hands are a bit bigger than Toshiro's, his fingers wider, but not by much. The gloves fit fine.

"Good thing I packed an extra pair," Laios says satisfactorily, finally letting go of Toshiro's hands. Toshiro mourns the loss of his hold, preferring it to the gloves, even if they were more effective.

Then, following Laios's lead, he nudges his shoulder. "Hey," he says.

The Northern man looks at him through his eyelashes, the hairs so pale they're almost transparent compared to Toshiro's dark ones. "Thank you for sending me letters this entire time."

Laios smiles, nudging him back. "We're friends, aren't we? Besides, if I didn't, I don't think you would've kept in contact with me."

Toshiro brushes the back of his neck, the glove borrowed from Laios soft against his skin. He drops his gaze and laughs quickly. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Laios grins knowingly. "Well, I'm glad I did, then. I don't want to hear about you from other people. I want to talk to you."

"Yeah." He nods. Logically, Toshiro knows it's cold outside, but his body feels anything but. "I've always thought, wouldn't it be nice to be able to talk to someone without worrying about being weird or censoring your thoughts? It's like… if I saw a cool bird or a bug or something, I want to tell you. I can tell you." He says the last part hastily, losing his nerve partway through.

"That's how I felt with you. I wanted to tell you things. I still do." Laios pauses and shakes the snow that has started piling lightly on his hair. The action reminds Toshiro of a dog. It's kind of perfect, because if Laios were a nonhuman animal, Toshiro thinks a dog is precisely what he would be. Then, he looks at Toshiro again. "It's better now, though, because I think I understand you better."

The Toshiro he was before Falin was eaten by the dragon would have never believed that. He would have scoffed at the idea of Laios believing he understood him, but now, he felt fondness. Now, it was true.

This look on Laios's face is all too familiar. The exact expression he has been the subject of, the one that appears to him in dreams, the one that came to him in a succubus form. Toshiro could never tire of seeing it. He doesn't ever want to not be the subject of those looks, even if it remains puzzling why he is.

"Me too," Toshiro replies. He feels an intense wave of affection that leaves him breathless.

That feeling of recognition he felt with Falin crossed with what he thought was supposed to be romantic love. That was already confusing enough. With Laios, he has even less of an idea of what he feels. Since the day they met over four years ago, he has constantly, repeatedly, been thrown off by Laios Touden. He doesn't know what he feels. All he knows is that he likes this feeling so much, he wants to throw up.

Oh, shit, he curses. He might really throw up. When he was young, even if he was sick, Toshiro forced himself to never vomit, not until he couldn't hold back anymore. Vomiting made him feel worse than eating food, because he was wasting it, just like that. Right now, Toshiro felt like he was holding back vomit, but not physically—emotionally.

Toshiro can hear his heart beating. He's half-suspicious that Laios can, too. But there's only tenderness on Laios's face. It's too late; that's the trigger. Toshiro's body no longer follows his mind, and before he can tell himself not to, before he can remind himself he doesn't, he says it anyway. "I like who I am around you. I like being around you, and I think I just… I think I just like you."

"Me?" Laios points at himself with his gloved finger, his cheeks growing distractingly pink. Cute. It must be the cold.

Toshiro waves his hands in front of him, embarrassed. "I mean, not you, not like that, I just—"

Laios's face is open and expectant. He simply sits there and waits for Toshiro to talk. He's gotten so much better at that. Toshiro almost wishes he hadn't, though, because he's flailing.

"Or maybe I do," he says the words softly, barely a whisper, but he knows they make their way to Laios's ears. "I do mean it like that."

What the hell? Why did he say that? Toshiro squeezes his eyes shut. A lifetime of not saying what he means, and yet, like always, Laios catches him off guard. A reticent man like himself, compelled to say his feelings, to essentially word vomit? This was groundbreaking, sure, but mostly humiliating.

Immediately, he realizes what he has done. Confessions to both Touden siblings in the span of two, almost three years. Taking an interest in not only the same family tree but also the same immediate family. This feels like the story of a play, something his father would watch, but it's not a work of fiction. It's real life. His life.

"I'm sorry," he whispers before Laios can respond. "I don't know why I said that."

He'd scoot away from Laios and move closer to the edge of the bench, but he thinks he's frozen. Despite his thermal layer, Toshiro can feel the cold seeping throughout his body. All he can do is lower his gaze, because he really doesn't want to see Laios's apologetic face. He would be kind about rejecting Toshiro, too, which would make it worse. So mortifying, it might just kill him.

The same feeling Toshiro felt falling into that river at seven years old, he feels enveloping him now at twenty-seven. Except instead of him falling into it, it's like he ran and catapulted straight into the water. He's sinking. He lost control of himself, his words. He became too self-indulgent. He crossed a line.

Fuck, it's sinking in that he really said that. All he can hear is the heart that threatens to beat out of his chest, almost deafening. His heart is moving faster than a green dragon, the most agile dragon species—a fact he learned from Laios. It's beating so fast, he thinks his bell might attribute the rhythm to his entire body and start moving too, completely betraying the fact that his mind is beginning to catastrophize. Just like when he was underwater, he feels the stretch of time. In what was most realistically a minute, he feels hours, years, as his mind races back, combing through his entire relationship with Laios. From their first meeting, their acquaintance, which he once felt was unfortunate and suffocating, to now, their roles reversed.

Could he sink into the ground? Belatedly, he wishes he had learned some magic from Maizuru. That captain, the elf one, could teleport. Is he still around? He might have seen him with Kabru earlier. What he wouldn't give for that ability in this moment.

A faint voice pulls Toshiro out of his thoughts. He realizes he feels two hands on his shoulders. Comfy and gentle. Or, they should be. He can't feel them through the thick winter gloves. He kind of wishes he could.

"Toshiro." Reluctantly, he looks up. Concern is the only emotion on Laios's face, even though Toshiro has now ruined their friendship. "Are you okay? You look like you just went all the way back to Wa."

Toshiro winces at the mention of Wa. He knows Laios has been longing to visit the place Toshiro calls home. He is unlikely to ever want to visit now. Well, he still could, but he'd probably avoid anyone related to the Nakamotos, and Toshiro wouldn't blame him.

Yes, Toshiro thinks. If only I could just disappear. He really wishes he could. He blinks and regrettably looks at Laios once more. Even in this situation, Laios's eyes are as soft as usual. Oh, no, is that sympathy in his eyes? An assassin should take mercy on Toshiro and kill him now. He can only mutter out another apology. "I'm sorry."

"For what? What's there to apologize for?" Laios lowers one of his hands from Toshiro's shoulder, gesturing between them. "You like me. I like you."

Toshiro waits for the other shoe to drop. I like you… as a friend. But it doesn't come out of Laios's mouth. Instead, he hears a question that he thinks will bounce around his brain forever.

Laios moves closer, resting his hands gently on Toshiro's arms. Then, taking a breath, Laios asks, "Are we courting, Toshiro?" His expression and tone are serious, the way they always are when he talks about monsters. Was he on the same level as monsters in Laios's mind? Was that a compliment or an insult?

"Are we—wait, what?" He doesn't know how Laios can just say things, impervious to the effects his words have on others.

Laios blinks, frowning. "That's what I thought we've been doing, but Kabru said I should make my intentions clearer." He coughs, pausing. "Kind of, uh, like you did with Falin. But I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, as I've done before, so I moved at your pace."

What? With Laios's every sentence, Toshiro can feel his eyes widening. He begins to suspect he fell into water again. Maybe he ran off the coast and went straight into the sea. He doesn't feel cold, though. A warm feeling is coursing through him; his heartbeat is again distinctly increasing in speed, but there's less fear there. It's not due to panic. Heat radiates where Laios's hands remain on his arms.

Courting. This whole time. Has that been what they've been doing? "Yes," Toshiro says quickly, placing his own hands on Laios's arms. "I think we are courting." That's all Toshiro's got, though. He doesn't know where to go from here.

They sit, smiles slowly forming on their faces as the confession sits in the cold air between them. Laios returns Toshiro's earlier gesture and pushes a fleck of snow off his face."Can I kiss you?"

"Oh," Toshiro says, stumbling over his words. "Yeah. Yes. I'd like that." It doesn't feel any less awkward, but Laios laughs, and Toshiro's heart skips a beat or two. Then, he laughs too.

"Okay." Laios leans forward, their breaths warming each other's faces.

When their lips touch, Laios's lips are softer than Toshiro had imagined. Not that Toshiro has imagined this taking place before, just—all the months away from the dungeons, he suspects Yaad has placed Laios on a strict health regimen, is all. Toshiro raises his gloved hands, cupping Laios's face. It's a nice feeling, having Laios this close to him. He hopes there are many more of these in their future.

Much too late, Toshiro recalls that they are at Melini's first winter festival. Laios is the king. They're lucky no one has seen them. Toshiro lowers one of his hands to Laios's chest, and reluctantly, they break apart. They sit there quietly, their heads naturally moving so that their foreheads rest against each other. Toshiro's eyes are closed, but he can tell Laios is grinning widely, the same shining smile Toshiro could map out in his sleep. The strained sensation in his cheeks reveals that he, too, is smiling, the joy drumming throughout his body liable to burst out of his chest. What a gift to be able to just be himself around Laios.

Gift. Toshiro suddenly remembers his left pocket isn't empty. He sits back, opening his eyes, fumbling for it. Laios watches him. "What is it?"

Toshiro pulls out a green bag, handing it to Laios. He takes a moment to tug at the drawstring, his grip slippery with gloves on. Laios takes out the jar of kraken ink.

"You had a gift prepared?" He looks over at Toshiro. Laios's expression is far too appreciative, Toshiro thinks, for something he had only picked out earlier today.

"Not for this," Toshiro says, defensively, his pale cheeks probably flushing. "It's just for you to use to write letters with."

Only my letters, he thinks, but doesn't say. The ink should be reserved for our correspondence. It's a startlingly possessive thought that Toshiro doesn't think he should entertain. Mere minutes after kissing Laios, and he's already learning so much about himself as a partner.

"So it's not a courting gift?" Laios asks teasingly, resting his hand that wasn't holding the inkwell on Toshiro's knee.

"No," Toshiro laughs. "That's not good enough. I'll get you something else."

"Is that a promise?" Laios's eyes seem to sparkle.

"Yes," Toshiro replies clearly. He means it.

As Laios puts away the jar of ink, they both hear the sound of an approaching crowd. When they turn to look at them, they see they're all holding lanterns. It was time to release them into the water. Toshiro glances at Laios. He stands up, and Toshiro lets him pull him to his feet.

A man who appears to be running this portion of the festival—Gil, he learns from Laios—hands the two of them one lit lantern each. He must have been told by Telford to save them for them. Then, he steps up on the stone bench that Toshiro and Laios had just been sitting on. "Alright, everyone, line up along the coast and release your lantern. Make sure to make a wish first."

Toshiro and Laios look over the water, the glow of the lanterns in their hands illuminating the surface. Toshiro closes his eyes, thinking of his wish.

He thought the feeling he had been avoiding his whole life was that total loss of control he felt in that river, the feeling that he didn't want to die. But, he thinks, the feeling had really been about accepting what he couldn't control, and the feeling that he wanted to live.

Right now, standing next to Laios, each holding their own lantern, that is what Toshiro feels. He doesn't know what wish Laios makes, and he won't ask him. Anything could happen between the two of them. There's so much they don't know. There's so much he can't control. Yet, the unknown is somehow, inexplicably, tinged with hope. That unknown has never felt so much like freedom instead of a free fall, and that makes this—makes Laios—the most interesting thing to happen to him.

Everyone releases their lanterns, all of them throwing their various hopes out there. Usually, looking out at the sea, Toshiro would see a younger self akin to a rock suddenly sinking into a murky river, stuck there until someone drags it up. A disappointed fisherman, a bored child, a panicked retainer. Tonight, he is one of the many lanterns floating on the open expanse of water, a bright glow of light within him. For the first time in a long while, as the wish linked to his lantern reverberates in Toshiro's mind, he feels free. That, he thinks, is the scariest and most exciting thing he has ever felt.

Laios takes his hand as they watch the flickering glow of their lanterns float farther out. They stand still next to each other, but Toshiro swears he can hear their bells chime in unison, a wish or a promise embedded into each ring, ring, ring.