Chapter Text
The elders of the Tiger Clan believed that curses announced themselves quietly.
Not with thunder or blood, but with difference.
When Atsushi was born, the room fell silent.
No infant's cry echoed against the stone walls. No relieved laughter followed. Even the fire in the braziers seemed to dim, as if unsure whether it was allowed to witness what had just entered the world.
Fukuzawa, the chief of the Tiger Clan, stood beside his wife's bed, his expression unreadable. The midwife's hands trembled as she lifted the newborn child.
White.
Not pale—white.
Hair like untouched snow. Fur on the small tiger ears soft and silver-bright. And when the child finally opened his eyes, they were not the deep, uniform blue of the Tiger bloodline.
One eye was a pale gold.
The other, a soft violet.
The midwife gasped before she could stop herself.
Whispers spread before the child had even taken his first breath.
"A bad sign."
"A curse."
"A deviation."
The Tiger Clan valued purity above all else. Their power, their authority, their very pride came from the unbroken line of blue-eyed tigers who ruled the mountains for generations.
And now, their firstborn son—the heir—looked like this.
Fukuzawa said nothing.
He simply took the child into his arms and turned away from the bed.
"He will live," he said coldly. "That is all that matters."
But from that moment on, Atsushi was never truly held again.
⸻
Atsushi grew up knowing he was different before he understood what the word meant.
He learned it from the way servants avoided his gaze.
From how other children were gently pulled away when he approached.
From the hushed voices that followed him wherever he went.
"The cursed one."
"The omen child."
"The white-furred monster."
He was fed less. Dressed in old clothes meant for servants' children. His hair was never properly cut—no one wanted to touch it. He learned to cut it himself with a dull knife, leaving it uneven and messy.
Sometimes, at night, he would stare at his reflection in a small bowl of water.
"Why do they hate me?" he whispered once.
The reflection did not answer.
The only ones who didn't seem afraid of him were his younger siblings.
They were too young to understand fear.
The second son would tug on Atsushi's sleeve and laugh.
The third would climb into his lap during lessons.
The youngest would sneak him candy stolen from the kitchens, giggling like it was a grand secret.
"You're our big brother," they said simply.
And Atsushi loved them with his whole heart.
That was why it broke him when he was taken away.
⸻
The war between the Tiger Clan and the Strong Human Clan had lasted longer than anyone cared to remember.
Blood stained rivers. Villages burned. Generations grew up knowing only hatred.
So when the elders finally spoke of peace, no one trusted it.
"A marriage," they said. "A binding one."
The Strong Human Clan was powerful—but their second son was sickly. Fragile. Not suited for the battlefield. Not suited to rule.
The Tiger Clan had power—but their firstborn was cursed. Feared. A blemish on their pride.
The decision was made without either child's consent and didn't even bother to make a ceremony.
Atsushi was eight years old when he was told he would be married.
He did not fully understand what the word meant.
"You will live with the humans," one elder said, not meeting his eyes. "You will be their bride."
Atsushi nodded.
If it meant his siblings would be safe, he would do anything.
⸻
Ryunosuke was ten years old and already knew what it meant to be unwanted.
His mother had died giving birth to him.
People said his first cry had stolen her last breath.
His father never looked at him the same way again.
The clan whispered behind his back, just as they did about Atsushi.
"The child who killed his mother."
"The weak one."
"The useless prince."
Ryunosuke's body was thin, often tired. He coughed during cold nights and struggled to keep up with lessons meant for warriors.
But his mind was sharp. His eyes observant.
When Atsushi arrived, Ryunosuke was the first to notice him.
The small white-haired boy stood at the edge of the courtyard, clutching a bundle of old clothes, eyes wide and cautious like a cornered animal.
"So that's him," someone muttered. "The tiger monster."
Ryunosuke didn't see a monster.
He saw a boy who looked like he expected to be hurt.
⸻
They met properly three days after Atsushi arrived.
Ryunosuke found him in the garden, crouched beside a bush, carefully picking small berries and placing them into his sleeve.
"You shouldn't eat those," Ryunosuke said.
Atsushi flinched violently and his tail stood from being startled, nearly falling backward.
"I—I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I won't take them again."
Ryunosuke blinked.
"I didn't say that," he replied. "I just meant... some of them are bitter."
Atsushi stared at him, confused.
"You're not angry?"
"Why would I be?"
Atsushi hesitated, then answered honestly.
"Everyone is."
Ryunosuke sat beside him.
"I'm Ryunosuke," he said. "You're Atsushi, right?"
Atsushi nodded slowly.
"...I'm your bride," he added quietly, as if bracing himself.
Ryunosuke's ears burned, not from embarrassment but because such a pretty person is now his bride.
"Oh," he said. "Okay."
That was it.
No fear. No disgust.
Just acceptance.
And for the first time since leaving home, Atsushi felt like he could breathe.
⸻
They were not allowed to play together openly.
The elders frowned upon it. Servants watched too closely.
So they played in secret.
In empty storage rooms. Behind old walls. In the forest at the edge of the territory.
Gin, Ryunosuke's younger half-sister from his father's second wife, often joined them.
She liked Atsushi immediately.
"Your hair is pretty, your ears and tail are cute too, like a small cat!" she declared one day, braiding a small section before a servant could scold her.
Atsushi froze.
"No one had ever said that before."
They laughed together. Shared stolen food. Talked about dreams they were never meant to have.
Ryunosuke talked about wanting to be strong enough to protect people.
Atsushi talked about wanting a place where he wasn't afraid to exist.
Sometimes, Ryunosuke would take Atsushi's hand.
Just to make sure he was still there.
⸻
Chuya was twelve when he first noticed the strange white-haired child.
He came with his father, General Oda, whenever negotiations with the Tiger Clan took place.
At first, he thought Atsushi was a servant.
The boy wore old clothes. His body was too thin. His posture too careful.
Chuya handed him a cookie without thinking.
Atsushi stared at it like it might disappear.
"For me?" he asked.
"Yeah," Chuya said. "You look hungry."
Atsushi accepted it with shaking hands.
After that, they met often.
In the forest. Near the river. Always away from eyes that judged.
Chuya learned Atsushi's name.
Learned about the marriage.
Learned how little the adults cared.
And every time he left, worry sat heavy in his chest.
⸻
A year passed.
Atsushi and Ryunosuke grew closer.
Too close, some said.
The whispers grew louder.
"Two monsters playing house."
"The cursed tiger and the mother-killer."
"They should be grateful they're tolerated."
Chuya heard it one day.
His fists clenched.
But when he looked toward the courtyard, he saw Atsushi and Ryunosuke sitting together, shoulders touching, sharing a piece of bread.
They were smiling.
And for now—
That was enough.
=====
To be continued 🪻