i've been watching the japanese dub of yugioh dm for the first time and it's somehow even gayer than the 4kids dub. the dialogue here has been only slightly altered for comedic effect, lmao.
(this art was carefully referenced and color-picked using screenshots from the show. it counts as a study :b)
domestic choicale preparing their kids for school in the mornings...
choi han wakes all of them up (cale would sleep until noon if he could, but he wants to say "have a good day" to the kids every single day before they go). cale would yawn and stretch and get out of bed with eyes half-lidded, shuffling to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and pack the kids' lunch.
choi han would make sure all the kids shower and help pick out their clothes. he asks them if they finished all their homework and they did, bc theyre good and responsible kids
while the kids sit at the table for breakfast choi han sneaks behind cale and kisses him quickly on the cheek. cale smiles instinctually and scoots out of the way so choi han can cut fruit on the countertop
cale ruffles the kids' heads one by one as they head outside. choi han is on duty for taking them to school this week bc cale has a big work project to finish. he crooks his finger and beckons choi han to come to him too and ruffles choi han's hair. choi han blushes as if they havent been married for 4 years.
Northern duke Cale Henituse with his long hair frosted over and tangling in the winter wind, fur cape thick and warm and pitch black, weighing down his shoulders. Northern duke Cale Henituse who stays shut in his castle unless drowning his lonely sorrows (apparently) and does not care for the people he protects (apparently), but stumbles back through the gates at unholy hours of the night or morning reeking of alcohol, clothes stained through with red in the dim candle light.
Choi Han stumbles onto the lands of the remote duchy after fighting through a thicket of winter demons and a pack of timber wolves that took him as easy prey, and the village welcomes him warmly. They celebrate his presence, because they think he is the one who has guarded their village. It's not strictly wrong, but Choi Han has not been in the Henituse duchy for long enough for his fights to warp into local legend.
He has not flung himself off cliffs to lure demons to their deaths. He would not call the way he wields his sword fae-like. Only thrice has he saved fellow travelers from the snow-borne perils. But... they call him a hero and give him food and rest at their eternal bonfire, and that is good enough for Choi Han not to question it too much.
The rumours spread far enough that the duke himself descends from his mansion at the peak of the wintering mountains. When the village leader hollers the name 'Cale Henituse' through the snowy roads, the merriment goes silent. Choi Han is slower to fear and trepidation than the youngsters he is talking to, so he turns and meets the duke's rusted gaze head on.
"So you're the hero," comes Duke Henituse's first greeting, and his voice makes him seem younger than the ageless ice of his expression. Not that it is ageless ice anymore - Duke Henituse's bloody lips twist and splinter his face with a scathing smirk. "I suppose you're looking for a reward, then? Well, what have you?"
The children shrink away from the duke's imposing stare, and Choi Han feels his own agitation rear its head in response. "The fire, your Grace. I come on behalf of another village who has suffered decades of chill now. Can you share some of it with us?"
Duke Henituse's gaze narrows as his sneer widens. "Which village?"
"Does it matter? The cold is impartial, your Grace, it will freeze any that has no hearth like this one." Choi Han tips his head at the merrily blazing flame that burns bright enough to heat the entire village and light the roads in the eternal night. "The fire can be transported without weakening the hearth. I can do it myself!"
"You can try," Duke Henituse snorts. "The Eternal Winter does not take kindly to flame in its midst."
"Harris is-"
The logs in the bonfire crackle and spit, collapsing in a blast of flame. Around them, the villagers flinch away with hands raised against the light. Cale Henituse draws his spine straight and bares his teeth on a fogged breath, embers refracting in his fathomless gaze as his hair and cloak billow in the surge of heated air - a dark burgundy stain mars the right breast of his thick blouse. "Harris Village? Let them be consumed by the full force of the Winter! Let them shatter! Let them die!"
Choi Han raises his drawn sword at a defenseless man, and knows that no villager will stop him. "I will take some fire back to them."
"Ha!" the duke laughs, head thrown back derisively, "Then take some wood with you too! Harris will have precious little dry kindling. Give them our fire."
What a challenge that is. "I will," Choi Han snarls. The fire burns, and even at this distance he is starting to sweat. He takes a lamp from one of the children who offer, and a handful of large candles from another. When he glances over his shoulder, the Winter Lord is gone. Back to his lofty manor in the snow with him, then.
Choi Han thanks the children and bids the rest of the villagers adieu. The older of them shake their heads and chuckle like it is some inside joke. "No need to say goodbye, lad. Best of luck to you."
The fire snuffs out the moment he steps past the tree line.
He walks the twenty minutes back to the village in near-darkness. It is not hard; the warm glow is the brightest beacon they could have. The elders smile when he sheepishly greets them again, amused yet disappointed for his flame. Choi Han leaves and returns four more times before he slumps on the village's pub bench with his head in his hands. The bartender claps him on the shoulder in commiseration and shouts him a jug of mead. "The flame cannot leave the village's bounds. Not without his Grace's permission."
Choi Han sips on the spiced liquor and frowns. "Then that's what I'll do."
The trek up to the manor is treacherous; there are crevasses and cliffs obscured by blinding white, and Choi Han cannot imagine the frosty duke shimmying up the narrow ledge of this particular cliff to get home. But Choi Han has faced far worse getting to the village of the eternal hearth in the first place. He makes it up mostly unharmed, though his fingertips are raw and bleeding.
The manor gates are wrought iron. The windows are dark. When Choi Han raises his hand to the metal, it parts for him as if the hinges were oiled only minutes ago. Soundless and weightless. A single room lights up. Choi Han looks over on instinct. The sharp, willowy silhouette of Cale Henituse stares back.