The First InaSure Novel Anthology and the party has come to an ended. But our AZ life in this hell will continued. Welcome, welcome~ Hope you were having a great time with us together in this.
The project goal is to materialized Slaine’s happiness world. And in this book we accomplished. Slaine is happy (100% at the end), with the one and only man for him, Kaizuka Inaho.
Everyone had been working extremely hard with the utmost care to create such an angelic masterpiece of work for each fanfic & fan art. With very much appreciation, I would love to thank you contributors & team of InaSure anthology project from the deepest of my heart, you all are so kind ❤
<< Credits >>
Anthology Artist:
zehel_az, the anthology cover & chibi illustrator
Anthology Authors:
@ambyrfire / Ambyrfire, the master of ‘The Rose and the Thorn’
CountLestanna / @kataphraktanna, the master of ‘天が落ちたとき’, & Ayuki, dedicated artist
@fabelyn / Slaine, the master of ‘On Ice’
hakumei_hogosha / hakumei_hogosha, the master of ‘On a Wing & a Prayer’
icinks, the master of ‘Floret’
@keibey / Keibey, the master of ‘si vis amari ama’
Liza0111, the master of ‘The Worst Day of His Life’
paperballoon, the master of ‘Saxifrage’
RealmOfTan, the master of ‘Somewhere Between Life and Death’
Ruenis / @unmei-no-ito, the master of ‘Almost Impossible’
TururaJ, the master of ‘Haven’
yuhee / @jinsio, the master of ‘the tale of a spirit god's love’
yui_minatsuki / @yui-minatsuki, the master of ‘Doll’
Support Team:
Callarin, @yuusouris23, art supporter and assistant
Alfa : cover graphic designer
hakumei_hogosha, proof-reader
@kataphraktanna, KuMikka, icinks, project admins
*Thank you Callarin, for the touching art of Slaine & his beloved blue sky.
☂ And our leading actors of this show:
Kaizuka Inaho & Slaine Troyard
They both are so wonderful and so beautiful, out of this world!
Last but not least, thank you every InaSure fans that continue to support the life of OrangeBat in this fandom. My apologies for any mistakes if it occurred during the game or appeared in the book.
For your treasure collection, you can download anthology in EPUB & PDF format from link below or read in AO3 collection. So, you can read anytime you want on the phone or tablet.
Inaho x Slaine Novel Anthology Vol.1 in E-Book format:
♥ PDF version
♠ EPUB version
Disclaimer: This is non-profit project. All works has been authorized.
Hope everyone have a good time on Inaho x Slaine’s birthday festival spree with InaSure Anthology novels and @inaweek2017 celebration by fishdad & AZ family.
Soon, the live game for InaSure Anthology will come, so let’s start get ready for the fun.
How?
Simply read all the fanfics from anthology and try to remember lots of things about AZ, especially Inaho & Slaine, our golden boys. The quiz game is awaiting for you.
When is the game play?
The first Inaho x Slaine Anthology LIVE GAME PLAY will be on
Saturday 18th of March 2017
at 10:30 am. EST/EDT
Counting down 13 days from now on. Gambatte mina-san!
More info about the game and prize are coming later til next weekend. Stay tuned!
Feel these amazing fluff, let it captivate your heart in the tight grip that you can’t stop until you reach to the end. Heaven is in your hands. And this time, Slaine is supernaturally cool.
click ‘Keep reading’ below.
***Please wait a while for reading on OrangeBat-Sanctuary website, due to some technical problem occurred. I could only post on Tumblr at the moment, and soon the authors will post on AO3***
Enjoy Reading!
Love,
Rosiel
The tale of a spirit gods love
by YUHEE
Tag: Fantasy, Romance, Fluff, Ghibli-themed.
۩❈❈❈۩
Day 1
It was no typical occurrence.
A medium-sized tiger stood before him— fur white as fresh snow, stripes slightly grey, its eyes an oddly bluish green. Certainly the tiger was not an unusual sight, but it was the fact that a tiger had made the chilly mountain its home— a mountain residing in a place stood impossibly near with folks, that was.
It had a peculiar eye colour, though. Inaho had not known a white tiger with eyes such as those existed.
He had hiked through the mountains to find a certain ‘cat’ for a child; the child had wailed before the area of mountain trees near the village. She had told him that her cat named ‘Reina’ had ran away into the woods.
Surely, this was not the cat the child was speaking of.
Inaho had thought of doing a good deed, but now he only wished he had not took up the act of kindness.
The white tiger was standing on four-feet a few meters away. It stood atop of a slight higher hill, and it stared down at him with piercing aquamarine eyes. Its breath heaved clouds through nostrils— and if one tried, there would be the slightest sounds of growlings heard. Inaho thought: it would be the best to move and sprint, but would the tiger not instinctively chase him then? He was alas stuck in a helpless circumstance where there was no opportunity of escape.
A sudden sound came across his ears like heaven bells— it was a small hiss that resonated from the trees.
The child’s cat?
He slowly turned his eyes away from the white tiger to look up, and indeed he saw an orange cat resting on a tree branch above him— its fur all puffed up, with claws clinging tightly on wood. The orange cat had its eyes locked onto the tiger, obviously intimidated by its presence. Inaho thought the scene was nothing but of irony.
He shifted his eyes back to where the white feline stood, and realized its aquamarine eyes were now trained on the orange cat above him. Although it was not hissing in return (were tigers capable of hissing, Inaho wondered), it had clearly took offense at such discrimination. It had made it known by growling a notch louder, and Inaho could not help but find himself amused at the display.
Though, now the question was: how is he going to bring the cat down?
Inaho let his mind wander, and slowly he turned his eyes towards the trees above him once more. He extended his hands out, slowly, and waved the orange cat at his way.
“Come on down, Reina. Your owner is waiting for your return.”
Why, of course, the orange cat had blatantly ignored him; not sending him a single glance, as its eyes were fixed onto one of bigger size, much more elegant. The cat was hissing at the larger feline, still.
Inaho let his hands gradually fall back to his sides, and let his eyes move to look at white fur again. The white tiger was no longer growling, but its eyes constantly diverted to him, back towards the orange cat, back towards him. He frowned at the gesture. Suddenly, the tiger made its decision to move itself from its fixed posture, and Inaho felt his whole body go rigid at the movement.
He was mechanically rooted to his place.
With grace, the white tiger took its time to move down from the slight higher hill— Inaho would had thought it beautiful, if not for the danger he was facing. The creature drew closer, and closer, until it walked past him so near, the smallest touch of fur had made contact with his right arm in a passing movement— the touch so gentle, ticklish, it had awakened goosebumps on his skin. It took a moment before Inaho could bring himself to turn around.
When he did, he saw the white tiger standing before the tree where the orange cat was resting. Instantly the white tiger had leaped, and Inaho was taken by surprise. Its sharp claws made a loud scraping noise against wood, and it was then he understood the white feline was climbing its way up the tree.
The cat had immediately hissed at the impact of the tree moving, and of course mewed irritatingly at the sight of the white tiger now closer than before. Inaho had thought the white-striped animal had come to a decision to feast on the smaller feline instead— it was logical. The cat had moved further away from the tree trunk until it hung dangerously near the tree branch’s end. That did not stop the tiger to edge closer. It continued to use its claws to climb, limbs eventually steady on the thick tree branch itself. The white feline had approached with slow steps then, body lying low for the sake of stability. When it approached close enough, the cat had made an attempt to claw at its face. It had successfully brought the tiger to flinch backwards, but that had done little good. The tiger only proceeded to release an enraged deafening roar.
From such resonating bellow, birds residing in trees immediately chirped away— they flew with running animals Inaho had not known had been around. It only took a while for the forest to settle back to its peaceful lull. The white tiger proceeded with its approach, and the cat was now firmly stilled at its place, evidently frightened. Inaho closed his eyes— he looked away for what was about to happen. It was how nature worked. There was only normality.
He heard a small sound of a squeak, and knew it had belonged to the smaller feline. He felt the slightest feeling of sympathy for the child who had wept earlier in the village. A loud thud had landed itself onto ground, and he knew the tiger was now back on land. The slight growl gradually became louder to his ears— and slowly, Inaho realized, the white tiger was now approaching him.
He lifted his eyes open in a slow manner, and took a good look at what was in front of him. He definitely did not expect the sight that was before him.
The white tiger stood, and indeed had the cat in its mouth— but there was no blood, nor horror. The tiger only carried the ferocious orange feline by the neck with its mouth, and all Inaho could do was blink at the bizarre sight in a sort of puzzlement.
The tiger seemed to growl louder at his pause, merely lifting its head up higher. He thought he could hear a voice ringing in his head that said: get this creature off my mouth this instant.
He moved, extending his arms, and his hands gently wrapped around the body of a smaller feline. The white-furred tiger immediately released its hold. It took several paces back, and proceeded with its growling again. The cat now carried in his hands had its claws sinking into his skin, but Inaho could not bother— his eyes were firmly fixed onto illuminating blue-green.
“Thank… you….”
The tiger stared, and promptly took a step forward. It growled itself louder, and the growling became evident with the baring of its teeth; a show of hostility, and an order to retreat. Inaho stared, and did nothing but nod. He turned his body away, and made his way to leave.
The growling behind him gradually faded into background.
Day 4
“You do not think the human will come any closer to the mountains again, do you?” Slaine spoke to the resting bird atop his head. He rested on a thick tree branch, head laid on crossed limbs— and whilst doing so, his mind had wandered to the encounter of that burgundy-eyed man. “I gave him a scare, did I not?” he proceeded, tilting his head, “Surely he would not think of doing such again,” he concluded himself. He pursed his lips, however. “Though the man had not seem all that frightened.”
Slaine blew a breath. He slumped his body on the branch, and the tree wavered at the movement. The bird atop his head, resting, stayed unmoving.
“Well, I did what I ought to do. Humans should know better not to plunge any deeper into my mountains,” Slaine declared haughtily. He folded his eyes to close. There was a long silence, and he let his thoughts whirl further. “That man did seem young… I wonder how old he is,” Slaine pondered. He scrunched up his nose. “They say human age way slower, so it is probably an age I could never deduce on.”
Another bird flew to where he was, landing next to his head. It chirped a reply, fluttering its feathers. Slaine’s lips curved.
“I know. A thousand year old spirit god should not bother with the thought of a mere man. But it is at times inevitable,” Slaine reasoned. He let his eyes lift open, and stared at the landscape before him: the forest, the mountain; his home, and the place he was to protect. “It is known that humans are represented by only disgraceful things. Greed, malice, foolishness. I would rather not have my hands dirtied with such, but curiosity will always harm,” Slaine stated plainly.
He was at once interrupted by an unexpected loud boom resounding somewhere around the forest, and both birds at his company immediately flew away at the abrupt noise. Slaine’s face twisted in confusion.
He got up from his laying position, and saw a few other birds immediately flying to his way; they had been there to witness the explosion, and came forth to inform him on what they had seen.
There was a man. And that man held a weapon.
Slaine jumped down from the tree instantly, and his face wore one of antagonism. He could now sense the human’s presence somewhere north-east, and he made his way towards the intruder with heavy steps— his teeth baring, growling, and his claws ready to dig in meat.
The audacity of a man to disrupt tranquility in his mountains.
Slaine had finally found the man after the efforts of searching. He wore a hat, and indeed, held a weaponry in his arms— it was brown, long, and oddly shaped. Slaine snarled at the intruder the moment he saw a glimpse of face, and the man without a doubt jumped, startled at the sudden growl. Though when the man turned to take in his presence, his lips had grown into a wide, malicious smile.
It unsettled Slaine’s stomach, and made him feel as though he was caught in some trap.
“No one told me there was a white tiger taking shelter in these mountains,” the human had opened its mouth, cooing. Slaine narrowed his eyes at the tone, and the man’s weapon slowly rose upwards. There was a small hole placed at the front of the weaponry, Slaine realized. The weapon was now directed at his way.
He shortly understood the sudden danger he was in, and felt his eyes widen in alarm. He quickly moved to escape the incoming fire, but he was not quick enough— the weapon had landed a shot at his leg. It made him release an ear-splitting roar, but still he made the exertion to run.
He concluded there was nothing he could do now but flee.
❈
The sudden loud gunshot had halted Inaho’s hand from writing.
He turned his head towards the window. There were a few birds cackling— they flew around the mountain area, and Inaho had immediately understood from the sight that the gunshot had originated from the mountains. He let his mind wander, but shook his head then. He forced his eyes back to the table, proceeding with his work. Soon after there was another gunshot— but this time, accompanied by a familiar roar.
Inaho’s hand which held the brush, had stopped mid-air. His eyes at once flew to look at the window, again.
He had not known why. His heart was frantically beating.
He dropped the brush on the table, and stood up from the ground— creating a mess of ink, which was not the paramount of his concern. He instantly went his way out of his room, and walked his way out of the house. He saw where his grandmother was; she stood chatting with one of the few villagers that lived around the area— there were several villagers out of their houses, now. They had all wondered the same: who had suddenly fired gunshots in the mountains?
“It is probably that old man, Keiji! He told me he got a gun from his trip in the cities!”
Hearing such words, Inaho had immediately made his way back to his home. He was acting implausibly fast; he took a small basket, and filled it with necessities he would be needing of use later— water, bandages, a salve. He had not an idea how he was going to treat a wild animal’s wound, but he was going to try. There was an urgent impulse to do it, in some way.
Though there was another significant matter for him to deal with at first hand— he needed to bring the man who had been the perpetrator out of the situation, first.
❈
Slaine had escaped deeper into the forest, but it seemed like the man was still chasing after his tail. He could sense the human getting closer, though not near. With four limbs on land, there was no doubt he was at an advantage, but even Slaine had to acknowledge: he would soon be caught if he did not find a place to take cover in due time. Even more so, with the wound on his leg.
And that was what made him agitated. He had looked over several times, and could see the wound was not healing in the slightest. Why is it not healing? Slaine had thought frustratingly whilst running, but he had to leave the infuriation aside. There was a sudden weariness coming unto him due to the incredible amount of blood he was losing, and he weakly made his way towards a place situated a huge boulder— a familiar area, a place where he would find himself be when he was tired. He decided he would lay himself behind the boulder, and rest. Hopefully, his wound would start healing at the lack of movement then.
While he walked with faltering steps, the plants behind him started growing in a rapid state. They grew, interlacing until there was not a single gap to be shown, covering the location entirely. The plants connected with each other until the place became a closed off area— it had become a place completely sheltered away from eyes of man.
Slaine collapsed himself onto the ground when he reached the boulder’s behind. He hid himself in its shadow, and finally, let himself be at ease.
Now he only hoped the wound would eventually close.
❈
“Where are you, handsome little tiger? I need your head to have me a fortune, so come on out, won’t you?”
Inaho stopped on his march. He had finally found the assailant.
“Mr. Keiji,” he remembered, and called. The man had turned his head around at the addressment, and raised his brows when his eyes landed to where he was.
“Aren’t you old lady Kaizuka’s grandson? What’re you doing out here in the mountains, kid?”
“I was taking a stroll,” he claimed, and blatantly lied. Before the man could respond, Inaho spoke again— this time he pointed his index finger to the direction behind him. “It seems like the white tiger you were looking for had headed its way to the village. You should catch it before it does, Mr. Keiji,” he announced with his voice entirely impassive. The man’s eyes widened at words of his, and immediately had his legs moving.
“You should have told me that sooner, you buffoon! That tiger is gonna kill everyone!” the man had exclaimed frantically whilst he ran his way towards the village. Inaho only stared as he watched the man’s retreating back.
And would that not be your fault? Inaho had thought. He shook his head, and focused on the matter at hand. He took in his surroundings— the mountain was quiet, settling. There was not a single sign of a white tiger living around the area shown. He walked further into the forest, and observed the place with attentive eyes; the trees, the ground, any traces that would lead to a large feline. And in a matter of time, he found one: there was a trail of blood.
He followed the small patches of blood on the ground with slow steps. He was stopped after some time. The trail of blood had disappeared into vines and leaves. He removed his eyes from the ground, and took in the sudden height of plants before him— they weaved everywhere. It had almost seemed as though the leaves and vines had formed a wall.
When he placed his hands on the plants, it was fortunate that he could push them away. He walked himself forward as he did so— pushing the plants aside, and moving further ahead. It took a while as there was a thick amount of plants. Though not soon later, he finally reached to a location.
The place seemed like a secluded area, not wide. There was a gigantic rock in the middle, and nothing else but plants surrounding the space. Inaho looked at the ground to see where the tiger’s blood had trailed, and it lead towards where the huge rock was. He took a few steps closer, and when he did, he could finally hear the slightest sounds of ragged heaving and breaths.
He continued to walk until he reached the boulder’s behind, and there he saw where the white tiger was: laying with its head resting on limb, sprawled at its side with a wound exposed for eyes to see. Inaho instantly placed the basket he had held in his hand on the ground, and went on his knees with the tiger’s wound before him; the leg was a bloodied mess. It was most certainly due to the fleeing the animal had done a few moments prior. The wound, even now, still bled uncontrollably— the tiger was losing a great amount of blood.
Inaho opened the lid of the basket, and started taking out the things he had brought from his home. The tiger seemed to gain slight consciousness at the minor noise he had made, and jerked back at the realization of his presence. Inaho instantly extended a hand forward to put the wounded leg in place. His eyes turned to look at piercing blue-green.
“Be at ease. I am here to help you.”
Words of those rolled off his tongue, and he only retracted his hand when he was assured the tiger would not make an attempt to escape. Inaho turned his eyes away, and proceeded with his task— he cleaned his hands with the water he had brought, and started the procedure of extracting the bullet from the wound. It was after a while later he was through— the wound was cleaned, and the bandages had been wrapped. He used the cloth he had brought to wipe away the blood on his hands. He turned his eyes to look at aquamarine.
The tiger’s eyes were trained on him, but it was staring at him with the kind of hazy stare. Eyelids constantly opened, and closed— it was as though the animal was about to nod off to sleep. Inaho turned to look away.
“Well, let’s hope this wound of yours heals well,” he mumbled to himself, looking at his own handiwork. “I was wary of signs of infection due to the wound being exposed for a while, but,” Inaho paused. He moved to gently touch the bandage wrapped neatly around the tiger’s hind leg, “It seems fine. There is no swelling.”
He retracted his hand, and proceeded to place the used-tools back into his basket. He shut the lid tightly, and grabbed the basket’s handle as he stood up. The gesture immediately jostled the tiger to full alertness.
Inaho let his eyes wander back to aquamarine ones peering up at him. He nodded his head once.
“Rest well,” he said. “Now we are even.”
He turned around to head back, though before he could take a few steps further, the sound emitted behind him made him stop.
The tiger had released a noise.
When he turned his head around, he saw the white tiger moving to get on its feet— it lifted its injured leg while doing so, and limped slightly because of it. The limping became apparent when it started to walk. The feline was heading its way towards where he was standing.
Inaho stared as the white feline stopped in front of him. They looked at each other for a long while.
Thank you, human child.
Inaho blinked at the voice that spoke in his head.
I am forever grateful for the help you have provided, the voice continued to speak, with deep acknowledgement. Inaho could not pinpoint where the voice had come from, or how the voice had sounded— it had echoed from his head, after all. He could do nothing but lower his head slightly at the tiger before him.
“Did you speak?” Inaho questioned. He felt silly at the situation— he was conversing with an animal. Though the voice which echoed in his head once more made him feel less so instantly.
Yes, it responded, and Inaho stared. The white feline continued to lock its eyes with his own.
Is there a name? the voice spoke another time. Inaho blinked at the question, not grasping the inquiry. The white tiger took in the silence with ease. Do you have a name? the voice rephrased, and Inaho finally understood. He nodded his head once, albeit with slight hesitance.
Then tell me, and shall you be blessed with the divinity of these mountains. Nothing will come forth to you but only prosperity, the voice had said with a tone of rich decorum. Inaho felt more befuddled at words of those. Exactly what situation was being presented before him as of now?
“I am… confused,” Inaho started. He paused for a long while, and finally opened his mouth again. “What?”
The white tiger closed its eyes, and not long after opened them again. Aquamarines stared patiently at burgundy ones again.
I am a mountain god, protector of these mountains. You have aided me, and now I am obliged to recompense the favour, the voice told. The white tiger began to walk nearer towards him. Inaho saw that the tiger was no longer limping. Give me your name, child. I guarantee you no harm, the voice in his head spoke with an alluring tone. The white tiger now walked around him, in circles, with its eyes still boring into his very own.
I am now associating with a mountain god, Inaho thought to himself inwardly. He was trying to make certain of the situation— at least now the voice speaking in his head had made slighter sense.
“Inaho. Kaizuka, Inaho,” he responded. There was a minor feeling of being hypnotized, staring at the mesmerizing colours in the eyes of the white tiger. Though, he was sure he had spoken at his own accord.
Inaho, the voice echoed, and the white tiger had stopped in its tracks.
A sudden rush of wind blew strongly against their direction, and it had made all of the fallen leaves on the ground float in the air. At once, it was as though time had slowed; his hair, and the tiger’s own fur fluttered at the force of wind, in a languid motion. Their eyes stayed on one another’s throughout the entirety of the moment— Inaho had felt compelled to persist the eye contact, in some way.
The wind had slowly settled, and the white tiger had been the first to break the gaze. It walked further away from him, and moved to lay on ground once again. Inaho felt some sense of loss at their abandoned exchange. The voice echoed in his head another time.
Now you are part of these mountains, its creation. Come as many times as you like, and be forever welcomed, the voice spoke with a manner of ease. The white tiger now laid with its eyes closed, its head resting on crossed paws. But do not bring other humans along. That is prohibited, the voice continued in a more stern tone. The white tiger lifted an eye open, and Inaho looked at the single emerald eye peering at his way.
I am sure you understand thoroughly the reasons why.
Inaho stared at the white feline with those words ringing in his head. He blinked, and turned his eyes to look elsewhere.
“You protect these mountains, you told,” Inaho stated. He took in his surroundings now with a new insight, and brought his eyes back to the tiger laying on ground. “For how long?”
The white tiger seemed to huff at the question, and turned its head away to face the other side. Inaho could only see the back of its head, now. I cannot possibly recall. As long as I have lived, the voice had answered. Inaho instantly spoke.
“How long have you lived?” he asked. The question had made a long pause between the two.
Thousands of years, child, there the reply was. Inaho blinked, blankly.
“I see,” he said, and nodded his head. He let the silence prolong for a long while. The white tiger— or should Inaho call ‘the mountain god’ now— was the one who disrupted the quietness. And how long have you lived, if you would not mind me asking? the voice in his head had queried. The white tiger lifted its head from its paws, and turned to face him. They were now looking at each other again.
“Eighteen years, in a few months’ time,” Inaho answered. The white feline proceeded to stare. That is an infant age, the voice had said, and Inaho felt the movement of his lips slanting upwards.
“Yes, I guess it is. In comparison to yours.”
Day 5
“Grandma.”
His grandmother turned her head at the call.
“Do we perhaps have a god protecting the mountains near the village?” Inaho asked. He could not help himself— he had been curious to more information. ‘Thousands of years’ the mountain god had said. Maybe his grandmother, who lived here longer than he did, would know of something.
“You ask such sudden questions, Naho,” his grandmother said. She turned her focus back onto her task. She was knitting. “We probably do. I’ll have you know this village has been quiet and peaceful for long years,” his grandmother continued, “And at times, there is a feeling it is the presence of the mountains that makes it so.”
Inaho nodded his head at her words. “I see,” he said. His grandmother suddenly stopped her task of knitting, and turned to look at him.
“Why the sudden mountains, though?” his grandmother queried. Her eyes searched her grandson’s stoic face for an answer, but sadly, to no avail. Inaho only gave a small smile, and turned around to walk his way back towards his room.
“I was only wondering,” he merely stated.
His grandmother had not said anything about the topic, after.
Day 8
It was dawn, and the sun had already risen. Inaho was settled in the mountains, and he sat behind the stone where he had last treated a certain tiger’s wound— well, a god’s wound, now he thought.
He had left a note for his grandmother before heading out of the house, of course; brought a book along, as well— a literature book gifted by his sister. He made plans to read the entirety of it before New Year’s would come by.
The reason for him to be at such place at such an early time was simply because he had woken himself too early in the morning, and could not find himself to sleep again. It was at times like this where a book could help him occupy the time— and usually, he would read them in his bedroom, instead. Though oddly enough, there was a sudden ridiculous idea of serving better to read in the mountains— driven by the thought of reading in a cool atmosphere with morning air, and quietness.
Certainly the reason was not because of a particular expectation to see the mountain god again.
Well, maybe it was. To some extent.
Inaho shook his head, and brought his attention back to the book in his hands. The book was of fine literature, not ones that were easy to decipher. He liked books of those kind— they gave his brain some exercise, and it was an honest delight to revel in challenges of those.
Time flew by surprisingly fast as he read, and he was aware of the absence of disruption while he was reading, too. Inaho concluded that the mountains, the place he rested, was to be his ultimate spot for indulgence; the morning coolness gave a slight chill to his skin, and it was the pleasant of kind. The cicadas sang, and it was in some way, calming. Nature in itself was coming alive with the daylight shining, and there was nothing but serenity. Inaho did not regret the idea of reading in the forests in the least. Though, some things were meant to be short-lived— he knew, and yet, he still could not help the small feeling of disappointment when it did.
There was an interruption with the sound of crunching leaves, and he looked up from his book. He saw the mountain god walking towards him.
You have been here a while, the voice spoke in his head. It had unexpectedly become familiar now— though he realized he was never capable of recalling how the voice had sounded in his head.
Maybe, he was not supposed to remember.
“I have,” Inaho said. He stared as the white feline approached closer. It walked until it reached his side, and laid itself on the ground. He noticed the bandage on the feline’s leg was gone. There was, also, no scar to be seen.
What is that you have there, the mountain god had questioned. Inaho turned his eyes away to look at the book resting on his lap.
“A book of Japanese literature,” he responded. He tried to proceed with his reading— his eyes going over the same line again, and again— and realized, he could not. The words kept failing to process in his head. It definitely did not help with the constant presence of a notable breathing at his side.
Tigers sure do breathe in loud breaths, Inaho thought.
He exhaled a sigh, and closed his book. He could feel a pair of eyes on him.
Why have you stopped? the mountain god asked. Inaho turned his head to look at the tiger laid next to him.
“You are distracting me,” Inaho stated, bluntly. The white tiger stared at him for the response, and he witnessed the feline blinking once.
I see. I apologize, the voice had said. The white tiger turned its head away, and started moving itself to stand on the ground. Inaho opened his mouth to speak before the creature could recede its resting position.
“It is fine. I no longer feel the desire to read,” Inaho declared. That halted the white feline, mid-standing, and it turned its head to look at him. It merely let its body fall on ground again, its eyes still connected with his own. Inaho held the gaze, and the same voice echoed in his head another time. Enlighten me, would you not, it said, I am curious as to how humans live in this world.
Inaho blinked at the sudden enquiry. He diverted his eyes to look at the scenery before him— trees, plants filling his vision.
“What of are you curious about?” Inaho asked in return. For a moment, the mountain god seemed to be in thought. You may as well start from the very beginning, the mountain god settled. I want to know of everything, it said. Inaho turned his eyes to look at the white feline another time.
“Well,” he started, “It begins when a man and woman have sexual intercourse. Through the procedure—,” Inaho said, but was harshly interrupted by the voice in his head. I know how humans are made, you fool, the mountain god had spoken with quick haste. I ask how humans live, not how they are created. Inaho blinked at the direct tone. The white tiger plainly stared at him.
“You said you want to know of everything,” Inaho reminded. The white feline huffed at his counter. Yes, it spoke, ‘everything’ by what they do precisely in life. Not the history of human kind, it said, there is not a need of me to know that— not in detail.
Inaho stared silently.
“I see. You are curious of what humans do,” he specified. The white tiger heaved through its nostrils. Yes, it responded, and Inaho brought his head to a nod— now knowing exactly what the mountain god was inquiring, he spoke anew.
“When humans are born, their parents nurtures them until they are capable of living themselves. They would be walking when they reach the age of one; talking, jumping, picking up abilities one at a time— and when the time comes, they would be sent for schooling,” Inaho explained, vaguely. He could not continue with his words as the mountain god spoke with a question.
What is ‘schooling’? the mountain god asked. Inaho blinked, and opened his mouth to explain further.
“Schooling is a process where humans can pick up more knowledge,” he told. The familiar voice echoed in his head once again. Knowledge? Of what? the mountain god questioned. Inaho answered, “Many things. Music, literature, languages,” he stated a variety of subjects. The white tiger moved its head to rest on paws, eyes now peering up his way.
Languages? the mountain god now inquired. Inaho felt himself heave a small breath.
“Yes, languages. They are a way of speaking— a method of communication. There are a diversity of languages,” Inaho clarified, “The language we are communicating through now, it is Japanese,” he claimed. The animal tilted its head at the declaration.
No, it is not, the mountain god said. I am merely communicating with you through the words you understand, it stated. It was now Inaho’s turn to blink at the deity in a confused manner. The mountain god proceeded, I am a divinity, human child. There is not a need for me to know what you human beings do. I interact through the mind, the deity revealed. Inaho let the new fact sink in his head.
So that is why I could not recall its voice, Inaho thought. He nodded his head.
“I see. I understand now,” he told.
He continued where he had left off— he told the mountain god what humans do after they receive their education: they work, and earn currencies for a living; they find companions to be tied to for life, and the cycle would go on repeat.
That is all? the mountain god had asked when he was finished. Inaho nodded his head, and the deity seemed to be unsatisfied. That cannot be all. I have heard more of what you have told, it claimed. Inaho blinked.
“And what would that be?” he questioned in return. The white tiger proceeded to stare at him.
Humans, creatures of greed, the mountain god started, they are beings with ill intentions, and that is what makes them powerful, it said. Inaho blinked at the kind of concept of thought, and the mountain god proceeded, one of them had inflicted me with a weapon the other day. You were there. Even though I am immortal, they have made me, a divine presence, bound to weakness, it spoke. The sudden seriousness laced in its tone had given an eerie atmosphere, and it had almost felt as though the mountain itself was affected by it.
Perhaps, it did.
“Yes, I do not deny that,” Inaho said. He held his gaze with the white feline. “We are, intelligent beings. We are knowledgeable, and would think of ways to achieve the things we want in our grasp. And that means using whatever measures they can,” he spoke. “It does not matter to them if it is cruel, or unjustified. They would do anything, as they are blinded by their own objectives,” he concluded. “One would even kill their own.”
The mountain god had slowly shifted itself to sit upright at his words. Inaho diverted his eyes to look elsewhere. He let himself continue.
“But as we are, intelligent beings, it can be contradictory. Humans will not hesitate to risk themselves, as well, for the ones they love,” he said, and he felt his brows furrowing at the words he had spoken. “I agree with your views, in some way. We are, indeed, frightening,” he asserted, and there was a short moment of silence. He spoke once more. “There are plenty of us in the world, and we vary. Some are brave, some are cowardly. Some are sane, some are not. That is just how it is,” he said in finality. He took a breath of fresh air that resided in the mountains, and exhaled deeply. He turned back to look at emerald eyes, and saw them boring into his own.
I understand, now, the voice in his head echoed. In principle, humans are creatures of— complications, the mountain god said. Inaho felt a corner of his lips quirk up at the remark.
“Yes. They truly are,” he acknowledged.
A gust of air had blown at their direction, and it had made his hair tousle; the mountain god’s fur had fluttered, and the fallen leaves flew. Trees were arching slightly— and Inaho felt a sense of tedious familiarity. This had happened once.
It is good, the voice then spoke, and Inaho saw the white tiger moving itself to lay on ground again; it had its eyes closed, and head instantly resting on paws. I no longer hold any animosity of your kind, the mountain god continued to say. Perhaps I still do, but the feeling is lighter, now, it said. The mountain god curled itself up— like a cat would when it made the decision to nap. I am glad I got rid of such enmity, the voice echoed again after a while. Thank you, it whispered.
Inaho continued to watch as the white feline proceeded to stay motionless; tail curled up, and breathing turning even. The wind was still blowing, but it had turned to a soft, gentle breeze. The silence prolonged, and Inaho was not certain if the mountain god had seeped itself into slumber.
It most probably did.
Inaho languidly shut his eyes close, and lifted them open again. He let his back lay on the stone behind him, and slowly felt his eyes closing once more.
“You are welcome,” he had murmured.
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, as well.
Day 10
He had sat the same place, read the same book three consecutive days; it was only two days later, the mountain god had decided to make its appearance again.
Do you plan to come here daily, the mountain god had asked. It stepped out of trees and plants, and walked graciously towards him. It approached closer until it reached his side, and laid itself on ground. Inaho could not help the sense of routine at the familiar movements.
“I would, if I could,” Inaho said. He brought his eyes back to his book, and continued, “But I will be gone in a few months’ time. So, for now.”
The mountain god spoke nothing in return. There was a silence that extended between them, and it was not one of particular unease. Unlike before, Inaho somehow could occupy himself with his book despite the constant breathing of a white tiger at his side. The mountain god had been quiet the whole time, as well— maybe, to let him read in peace.
It took some time for Inaho to finally reach the start of a new chapter, and he let himself stop. He shifted his eyes to look at the white feline at his side, and saw the creature staring back at him.
“What?” Inaho questioned at the gaze. There was a short moment of quiet, and there came a response. Nothing, the voice echoed in his head. The white tiger lowered its head to rest on its two paws, and diverted its eyes away. I was only observing your face, the mountain god declared brazenly. Inaho blinked at the frankness.
“My face,” he said. He let his eyes turn back to the book on his lap, and moved to close it. He decided he could proceed reading later.
“I have been wondering,” Inaho started. His words had made the mountain god’s eyes return to him. “You have told me you are the protector of these mountains,” he said, “But are you not just a mere tiger?” he implied. He did not forget to add, “One that could speak through the mind, that is.”
The white feline blinked up at him for the words he had spoken, and lifted its head up in a slow manner. Are you insinuating something? the mountain god asked. Do you think I fraud? it spoke. There was no defensiveness to its tone, only simple questions. Though maybe, Inaho could not tell. The voice speaking in his head was not distinct, after all.
“I do not mean it in that way,” Inaho made to say. “I was trying to ask what made you a god of this place,” he said. The white tiger tilted its head at the statement. The feline heaved. There is nothing that made me, the mountain god spoke. Inaho closed his eyes, and shook his head.
“No. I meant what do you do; for the mountains that you are a god,” he rephrased. That seemed to make the mountain god understand better. The white tiger looked away, and gazed at the forest trees surrounding them.
The nature ambience was usual; there were birds chirping once in a while, and cicadas singing in a soft tone. The voice in his head spoke again eventually, and Inaho could see the white feline turning its head to look at him once again.
What is there to tell? its voice echoed. I am the protector of these mountains, and the guardian. I shelter the beings that are within, and they depend on my very existence, the mountain god told. Inaho stared at the feline laying at his side, and he blinked at the last few words. He moved to rest his head against the stone behind him.
“What happens,” he started, “If you are gone?” he questioned. The white tiger peered at him. It slowly moved itself from its resting position to sit itself upright. Blue-green eyes now stared down at his.
If I am gone, the mountain god began, things would not go well. The trees would wilt, and the plants would perish. The beings that live within, would be deceased. Whoever comes to the mountains, will feel as though the air around is nothing but of suffocation. Along with me, the tranquility will disappear, the mountain god spoke with poignancy. There was silence after, and Inaho stared as the white tiger kept its quiet. He opened his mouth to speak.
“But that will not happen,” he said, “Because you will not die.”
The white feline proceeded to gaze at him, and slowly, blinked its eyes once. It heaved a breath. That is right, the mountain god had said, and it was odd. Somehow, Inaho could feel as though the mountain god was relieved from his words.
The white feline moved itself to stand on its feet again, and turned its body away to leave. Inaho thought that would be their last conversation of the day, but the familiar voice in his head echoed another time.
Come, follow me. I want to show you something, it had said. The white feline was walking further, and Inaho started to get up on his feet. He patted away any existence of dirt on his clothing— and with his book in hand, he followed the feline.
They had walked through the forest for a long time. It was much later they finally arrived to a location; the mountain god had brought him to a place outside of forest trees, a widespread of grass. They continued with their march, and Inaho did not waste the opportunity to absorb his new surroundings; blue skies, healthy green grounds— they were a sight to take in. They finally stopped before a small plant rooted in the midst of the vast meadow, and Inaho had felt clueless. He turned his eyes to look at the white feline next to him, and wondered what this was about; the small plant could not possibly be what the mountain god had wanted to show him, was it?
The deity did not answer his unspoken question, and instead only had its eyes firmly to the front. A voice echoed in his head: Look, and Inaho was obliged to bring his eyes forward, as well.
His eyes widened as he slowly witnessed the sight before him.
The small plant situated before them was slowly maturing, and it flourished until it sprouted leaves. It continued to grow bigger, larger in a circular motion, with flowers blossoming elegantly— Inaho noted the flowers were of pink in colour, and he soon understood it was a cherry blossom tree that grew before them. Ultimately, the tree grew to a slow stop, and there were several petals falling beautifully with the wind blowing gently against it. The visual of it was indeed breath-taking. Inaho was made speechless.
Wonderful, is it not? there was a voice echoing in his head, and it took some time for Inaho to realize it was the mountain god speaking to him. He tore his gaze away from the tree to look at the white feline stood next to him, and the voice in his head spoke again. I can make trees grow in a blink of an eye, ones that are as splendid as this, the mountain god had said. The white tiger’s eyes were peering high up at the fully-grown tree arching over them. May I continually, have the means to do this, the mountain god spoke in a gentle whisper.
Inaho stared as the white tiger gazed at cherry blossoms, and found himself incapable of looking away; there was an expression on the mountain god’s face Inaho could not describe. A look of gratefulness? he guessed, but there was no way to tell.
Gratitude for one’s own existence, it was something he had never heard of.
But he was already witnessing one himself, right now.
Day 18
It had turned into routine. He would walk to the mountains with a book early dawn, and eventually the mountain god would come and keep him company; the same spot, the same posture. There would be times they would talk, and times they would not— there was not much to talk between a god and a human, Inaho had realized. Though he had liked the silence all the same. There was amenity.
He had kept count. Today was the tenth day.
The mountain god was asleep at his side as of now; it was curled up, and as usual, its head on paws. At some point, Inaho found himself watching the feline’s sleeping appearance rather than reading the book on his lap. When he was aware of that himself, he blinked, and forced his eyes to look away. He brought them back to the book on his lap, and engrossed himself— but not long after, he sensed movement from the corner of his eyes.
The white feline had awoken, and its head was lifted away from its limbs. Aquamarine eyes stared attentively at the mountain trees before them, and Inaho likewise did the same.
“What is it?” he enquired. He turned his eyes to look at white fur for an explanation. The mountain god had answered, That man. He is in my mountains again, the voice spoke. Inaho had not a need to ask who the deity was indicating— he knew. He saw the white tiger bringing its limbs to stand on ground. And he is not alone, the voice continued. The ease that settled in Inaho’s body instantly left.
He closed the book on his lap, and placed it aside. There was a single bird that flown out of forest trees, and flew its way towards where the mountain god stood. It chirped wildly at its face.
“What is it saying?” Inaho asked. This time, the mountain god did not answer his question. It turned to look his way, Settle here, it said. The white feline turned its head back to where the mountain trees was, and started walking itself towards them. Inaho stood up without knowing.
“Where are you going?” he questioned. To keep them out, the voice in his head spoke. The white feline walked further ahead, and Inaho’s legs unconsciously moved to follow.
“Do they hold similar weapons?” he questioned. He was now trying to keep pace with the mountain god marching at his side; it was apparent he had neglected the mountain god’s advice, but the deity did nothing to stop him. It did not speak, as well. “From your silence, I will suppose that is a yes,” he said. “They plan to hunt you. It is not wise to expose yourself heedlessly.”
And you suggest I hide? What a ridiculous notion, the mountain god spoke. Inaho felt a tiny sense of annoyance surface, but he forced it down. “You will only be put in danger,” he prompted. The response came instantly. Then I will welcome it with open arms. I will bare my fangs and sink my teeth whilst, the mountain god concluded, tenaciously.
The white tiger suddenly stopped its march. It slowly turned its head to look at him, and Inaho felt a chill down his spine when their eyes finally met; the feline was sending him a hostile glare.
Do you perchance… envision me a fragile being? the voice echoed in his head with thick bitterness, Inaho was startled he could decipher the tone. Maybe you have deluded yourself from that one time of aid you had brought, it said. The white feline took a step closer to where he stood, and its fangs were bared slightly. I am not weak, human child. Do not think such degrading thoughts of me. A tone with venom. In that moment, Inaho felt as though the presence before him was painstakingly foreign, an unknown being— and there was no awry with such. Inaho never truly knew the mountain god itself. It was somewhat distressing.
The white tiger turned its eyes away, and continued its hike. Inaho followed along after the feline had took a few steps. “Perhaps you rely I remove the pellets for you when you get shot. I will not,” Inaho then stated. The white tiger seemed to release a heave. It was one very much alike to a scoff. Stop flattering yourself, the voice in his head echoed in response.
Inaho did not say more after. They proceeded with their journey in strained silence— he could sincerely no longer see the reason to withhold his argument; there was of nothing that could break the mountain god’s current obstinacy, he deduced. They had walked for some time, and it was a while before they reached to the sight of four men.
Indeed, they all held guns in their hands.
“There the white tiger is!” one of them had exclaimed loudly at the sight of the mountain god next to him. Keiji, if Inaho recalled correctly, had his eyes turned towards where his fellow friend had pointed. His eyes widened when he took sight of Inaho’s presence.
“You again!” the old man called with his index finger directed at him. Inaho calmly opened his mouth to speak.
“You are not allowed to hunt in these mountains,” he plainly declared, his eyes eyeing the weaponries held by the four men. There was an urgency to form a strategy to bring these four armed-men away; the mountain god would surely be incapable of saving itself from four pistols. And to make matters worse, somehow he felt the guns they held were ones that could handle more than a single bullet.
One of the men laughed at his statement. “What? Where did you hear that, kid?” the man had snorted, and two others followed along. Keiji was the one who had kept its silence.
“There are officers. If you are eager to know, I can ask,” Inaho simply countered. Words of his made the men wipe the grins off their faces. The man who was tougher in size snarled.
“You little brat,” he said, and raised his gun at him.
Inaho had been prepared for the fire, but he was not prepared for the single plant that had flung the weapon away. His eyes widened at the occurrence. It did not stop there. Vines with leaves started appearing out of nowhere, and they violently flung away the three other pistols from the men’s grasp. The circumstance had left the four men dumbfounded. They were caught off guard when those vines themselves proceeded to bind their way around their bodies— the plants twisting so tightly Inaho could tell they intended suffocation. It ruthlessly flipped the men upside-down after.
They were all unarmed now, hanging, and their weapons thrown far away. In a position like that, they were definitely now inferior.
Inaho stared at the scene before him, and he instinctively turned his head to look at the white feline by his side. The mountain god was openly baring its teeth, growling indecently loud. It proceeded to walk towards the four hanging men with slow, torturing steps— with such menacing approach, the men surely whimpered. They instantly dropped their insolent acts they had held with them a few moments prior. Inaho felt the small tilt of his lips at the show of cowardice.
The mountain god stopped before the man who had dared lift a gun at him formerly, and it shoved its head so close its breath probably hit the man’s overturned face. Sharp teeth flaunted directly at his face, and he could only scrunch his nose, screw his eyes close— the fierce display apparently unbearable. The white feline let out a snarl, and the man released a yelp.
Not so pompous now, are you? a distant voice echoed in his head. Inaho was confident it had belonged to the mountain god.
He saw the white tiger take a few steps backwards. There was a short silence, before the feline proceeded to release an ear-piercing roar. It was one that compelled birds to fly, and animals to run— Inaho had witnessed this once, from their first encounter. Though this was disparate— the influence held more power. It made winds blow, and trees move; the ambience shifted to convey the mountain god’s message: you are not welcomed here.
The forest slowly went back to its lull, and Inaho could hear heaves originating from the white tiger’s snout. The plants that held the four men gradually unwounded, dropping the four bodies with a thud. The men quickly scrambled up to their feet to escape; they fled, but one had stop mid-way— his head had turned to look at the direction where their weaponries were left behind.
Immediately the vines had shifted; they moved swiftly to pick up the weaponries that were left on ground, and vigorously snapped them in half. They made sure the man could properly witness it.
The mountain god released another loud snarl, and it woke the man from his trance. He tore his eyes away to look at the white tiger from a distance, and Inaho saw him wear a face of perplexity— he could understand why. Not soon later, the man finally moved his legs and evaded.
It was a while as they watched the man flee until his figure in the forest was no longer visible. The white tiger had looked away then, turning itself around; it paused when its emerald eyes connected with his own— they glowed, Inaho realized. Those eyes shone from a distance— at least it had seemed that way. How enchanting, Inaho marvelled.
I saved you, the familiar voice was back in his head. Inaho let himself blink at the sudden words.
“No. I was aware of the arriving attack,” he claimed. The white tiger contin-
ued its stare. It closed its eyes, and looked away— eyes now forward whilst it walked. As did I, it responded. Inaho watched as the white feline walked past him.
“I will give my thanks for the gesture, still,” he replied, and paced to follow the deity. “But I understand, now. Nature grows at your command. You are their centre of life,” he said. “You can ask it to do anything.”
And I do not abuse such ability, the mountain god declared. “I know,” he responded in an instance. The white tiger halted. Inaho paused as well, and the tiger turned to look at him in the eye. Inaho proceeded with his words.
“I know well you do not,” he told. It was silence that followed after, and they merely stared at each other— Inaho felt as though situations of this kind had occurred too many times.
“Before,” he started then, tilting his head, “It was not the thought of you being weak. I only…,” he trailed. There was not a word Inaho could find that could explain his previous behaviour. “There was worry,” he simply settled. The white feline heaved at the declaration.
Worry? You need not bother with such, the mountain god said. Inaho felt himself smiling at the statement.
“I know.”
۩❈❈❈۩
Time passed, and they had surely bonded. With the incident that had happened, Inaho had made more the effort to prod details about the mountain god after. He had insisted to know what the mountain god did if there was no sort of disruption that occurred in the mountains; it had answered sleep. He asked what its favourite food was; it had looked at him weirdly, and said there was nothing of such— mountain gods do not eat. Inaho made it a task to pick up five things about the mountain god a day, and how apparent it was the deity had found it irritating.
But with time passing by, it had certainly turned ordinary; there were times where the mountain god would return several questions, as well. They would exchange facts of each other, and their conversations would carry until the suns set, and moon rise.
To put it fairly, they had become close.
Day 63
Human child, the mountain god had suddenly called. It made Inaho remove his eyes from the book on his lap. He turned to look at white fur at his side, and the white tiger was looking ahead. It spoke, you have told that you would be ‘gone’ in a few months’ time, the mountain god stated. Inaho stared, and moved to close the book he was reading.
“Yes,” he responded, “When I turn the age of eighteen,” he continued to
say. He tilted his head, and wondered why the mountain god had brought up the sudden matter. The white feline turned its head to look at him. Why? the mountain god queried. Inaho blinked at the question. “I will have to head to town for work,” he told. The white feline stared, and turned its eyes away.
Right, you have told me. Work comes after education, it recalled. Inaho felt his lips twitch at the deity’s acute recollection. That means you have completed your education? the mountain god questioned.
“Yes,” Inaho answered.
It was a moment of silence before the mountain god spoke yet again. I have been… curious, the familiar voice echoed. What is it like? Your… home.
Inaho blinked at the sudden topic.
He turned to look away, and shifted to place his book aside. He proceeded to fold his legs, and sat with his legs crossed— eyes turning to look at white fur once again. “There is of nothing to tell,” he said. “I do not live with my parents. Instead, my grandmother is the one who cares for me,” he shared. Why do your parents not live with you? the mountain god had asked in return, and he answered, “They are working, as well. Along with my sister, they live life in town.”
The mountain god had paused. It turned its head to look at him.
You have a sister, it stated. Inaho blinked, and nodded. Is she the spitting image of you? the mountain god then questioned, and Inaho thought he could hear a chuckle. Though I see, the deity spoke, you will no longer be here, after a few months’ time.
Words phrased in such way, Inaho gradually felt the small smile on his lips fading. He let his eyes linger on aquamarine ones for a minute longer. There was a small gentle breeze blowing against the two of them, and the sensation was cooling, relaxing. Inaho took in a breath.
“That is right,” he said, after a while, “I leave this place once I reach the age of eighteen,” he recited, as though reality had dawned on him now— and it was silly. He had always known. He was not dull. “I leave this place, and reunite with my family when I do,” he asserted to clarify himself, and how odd it was to say words of those with a heavy feeling in his chest.
The mountain god had been indifferent— it had only flicked its eyelids once. Could I know when were you birthed? it suddenly inquired, and Inaho stared at the abrupt request. He answered, nonetheless. “The 7th of February,” he told, and emerald eyes before him lowered down to look at ground.
There is more or less five full moons to pass. That is not long, the mountain god spoke. Inaho knew, and he suddenly became aware of himself dreading the day more than he had thought he would. Perhaps he had grown fond of the mountain god’s company through the weeks had passed. Inaho thought the idea absurd— but absurd it was, there was no use denying the truth.
“We should make the best of it,” Inaho proposed. Aquamarine eyes trailed
back to look up at his burgundy own. He continued to speak. “Before I leave,” he proceeded, “Educate me about the Spirit world. I honestly wish to learn more…” about you, he thought, and forced his mouth to close. He let his lips ease into a small smile, and the mountain god heaved at the demand. How audacious, it had claimed, but white eyelids closed, and its head was laying on two paws in composure. Though I might as well, the voice proceeded to echo in his head. That shall be my farewell gift, the mountain god declared.
Inaho gazed at the resting feline with serenity, stared at the soothing movement of breathing. The calming breeze still blew, and it had made the trees around them sway lightly. Before he knew, his hand had unconsciously stretched towards where the mountain god had laid next to him— and when he was finally aware, he stilled it before it could move further. He was about to retract his hand, when blue-green eyes opened at the exact moment. It made his heart stop.
Those eyes stared sharply at him.
There was a long silence, and Inaho was slowly convinced time had stopped. It carried on, though, when the white feline proceeded to close its eyes again.
You may, the mountain god spoke in his head, and Inaho blinked in a sort of stumped manner. The deity had given him consent, he slowly understood. He let the heavy quietness extend.
Inaho swallowed, and brought his hand to move further forward— pausing mid-way, every once in a while. He stilled his hand once his palm was above surface of fur, and he exhaled a slow breath when he finally let his hand rest on the feline’s head— he had not known he had been holding in his breath until then. He weaved the fur through, gently, and the contact was surprisingly soft. The fur was snow-white, and fluffy— he was combing through the hairs with ease before he knew it.
A moment later, a purr had released itself to be heard. Inaho’s lips twitched at the sound.
“I guess all cats are the same,” he said to himself quietly, though the deity had regrettably heard him. I am not a ‘cat’, it declared, but I appreciate a good rub when it is given, it defended itself. Inaho felt himself release a breath of mirth. “Then you shall appreciate as it is,” he said, and continued his caress with tender strokes. The purrs progressively grew louder.
This was wonderful. Inaho concluded it so. And he never wanted to leave.
Day 97
I have a sudden outrageous idea, the mountain god spoke.
Inaho stopped his strokes on the white feline’s head, and the tiger like-wise rose its head from his lap. Glowing emerald eyes instantly seized his line of vision— really, it was hard not to be enthralled. They were captivating, albeit the innumerable times he had seen them.
You should bring me, the voice said. Inaho stared at the white tiger before him, and eyes of theirs blink in a bright manner. Eventually, they looked away; the white tiger laid its head back on its previous settlement: his lap. It was a few days the mountain god had made his lap its headrest— though, it was not like he had minded. He was pleased, somehow. It felt as though the mountain god was opening up; unfurling, like a bud. Its defences gradually let down, and the mountain god no longer vigilant to show its true self.
I have never ventured out of the mountains, the deity spoke. But I am curious, it said. Closed eyes of the white feline’s lifted up to look at him. Inaho like-wise gazed at them back. There was a brief silence. He raised his brows, insignificantly.
“You are always ‘curious’, are you not?” he said. He heard a heave in response. Well, you are as well, the mountain god answered. The white feline shut its eyes once again, and brought its head to face away. Inaho’s lips curved. He often found the mountain god’s childlike behaviour amusing.
“Well, if you want to speak your way through it, you should apprise me in it, should you not?” he proceeded. It brought the white feline to lift its head, and turn to look at him once more. It then started to get up from its laying position. The feline stood on its feet again, and Inaho had to lift his head slightly higher to remain eye contact with the mountain god.
The white tiger’s face was now very near his own, and he could feel heaves hitting his face— his own reflection, clearly reflected by a pair of sea blue.
I want to see the world the way you do, the mountain god announced. How humans go with their days. What they do. What makes them… human, it said. Inaho was confounded at the sudden admission. He blinked once, twice, and the white feline’s eyes had wandered to look down. This is presumably your fault, the mountain god then declared. It brought its eyes to look up, and Inaho nearly flinched— nearly, but he did not. The intensity of the stare was startling. There was no such curiosity before you came into my sedate life. You should hold responsibility, the deity stated. The white tiger turned its head away, and walked further off. Inaho furrowed his brows at the motion.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, before getting up onto his feet as well. The white feline stopped at the query, and turned its head to look at him. To the place where you live, the mountain god blatantly answered, and Inaho blinked at the deity’s answer.
“You cannot do that,” he said. He continued before the mountain god could question. “You are a tiger, a known untamed creature— at least, you take an appearance of one,” he spoke. “Your presence would make the villagers restless. You would know,” he asserted. He felt sorry to bring a certain memory out of the discourse, but it was inevitable.
He expected a show of consideration, but there was nothing of sort. The white feline only raised its head higher at his words. Then if my appearance were to change, it would be fine, the voice remarked. Inaho’s eyes narrowed at the indication. He opened his mouth to speak. “That is not what I—,” he said, but stopped when sudden small luminescent lights started appearing out of nowhere— he had to blink multiple times, to realize, they were not fireflies.
The lights wore the colour of the mountain god’s eyes, and they glowed impossibly bright at daylight. Inaho could only stare in stupor at the sudden scene. He saw the white tiger’s body slowly floating upwards, as though guided, and it settled itself on hind legs— stood in a way a human would. The emerald lights abruptly became brighter, and Inaho had to close his eyes from the glaring intensity. It was a while before his eyes could open again, and when they did, there was no longer a white tiger in sight. A man had stood— a breathtaking, beautiful man.
The man was not done shifting— luminescent lights glowing on certain body parts, still. He had white strands of human hair, fair-white skin; his garments exactly alike to the one Inaho was wearing, though the colour was pale blue instead of grey. His hair and garment floated elegantly along with the luminous lights around him, as though defying gravity, and it had made the sight immensely exquisite. The man’s eyes, that were closed, opened themselves at a slow pace— it had made Inaho’s jaw tense. The person had, of course, enchanting aquamarine eyes.
Inaho felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe.
The man brought his own fingertips to his face, and looked at them at a close distance— examined them whilst they were in the process of forming. Blue-green orbs evaporated itself into thin air, and a full hand gradually made itself known. He dropped his arm in a gentle manner when the procedure was done. Those very alluring eyes turned to connect with his own.
Inaho felt himself suck in a small breath. Lips of the white-haired beauty gracefully curved into a smirk.
“How do I look?” the foreign person spoke, and Inaho felt a pleasant sensation spread throughout his body when the man’s voice met his ears; it was one that had echoed in his head repeatedly for the past few weeks. He blinked, and opened his mouth.
“You…,” he trailed, and could not find the words to continue. The man before him had stood with arrogance; the luminescent lights were now gone, and only left him standing like any normal human being— the mountain god, had took the form of a human. Inaho finally understood. He unconsciously swallowed.
“You,” he repeated, and could not help it when his eyes gave a once-over. “You look… good,” he said, and the mountain god indeed, did. Slender frame, and tall figure— the man before him fitted his yukata absolutely well. Moreover with his white hair, and fair skin— it gave a pleasant contrast to his own aquamarine eyes. His visuals would be described ethereal.
He was ethereal.
“That is a relief to hear,” the mountain god answered with its human-moving lips, and there was the hint of egotism in its tone, still. Inaho did not know what to say, so he was quiet when the deity proceeded to walk towards him— elegantly, as though it had been walking on two legs its whole life. It was not until the mountain god stopped in front of him that made him frown.
“You are taller,” Inaho stated bluntly. The man before him only tilted his head at the comment, lips still curved in that mischievous way— it annoyed him, sincerely. Inaho turned away, and walked past the deity. He heard footsteps following him behind.
“You never told me you could transform,” he continued to speak as the mountain god now walked at his side; it was weird, a sudden human figure now at his company in the mountains. It had always been a large, four-legged animal. A white tiger, to be precise. It would be some time before he could get accustomed to the sudden change.
“Simply because there was not a need to,” the mountain god responded, superciliously. “But yes, I can,” it said, and sent off a playful grin. Inaho concluded the human form of the mountain god was tremendously obnoxious. It was not a good idea to give it facial expressions, nor verbalization. The slight irritation probably showed on his face, because the deity gave an airy chuckle.
“Do not fret. It will only be today,” it spoke. Inaho turned his eyes to glance at the man next to him, and saw a look of casualness settled on the mountain god’s face; now that the mountain god had taken the form of a human, he could clearly read its state of mind, now. Inaho felt abundantly pleased by it, in some way. “I will be satisfied, after this,” the deity had continued, and Inaho could see brows lifting as words of those spoke— he suddenly found it extremely endearing to watch. There was simply so much human-ness now, compared to before; the same voice, but entirely different physiognomies to observe. It was one that he could finally familiarize with— and with the deity speaking in a distinct tone, it enabled him to identify its voice, as well. Most importantly, he was going to remember it this time.
Aware of the pair of eyes peering its way, the mountain god turned its head to stare at the human at its side.
“What is it?” the mountain god asked with all of its naturalness. Inaho could only look away.
“Nothing,” he answered.
However insufferable, he had thought the human form had suited the mountain god well.
❈
They nearly reached to the place where they would exit the forest, and it was only later Inaho realized the mountain god was no longer walking by his side. His head had turned around, and he saw the man with emerald eyes standing rigid at his spot, a short distance away.
“I apologize,” the mountain god said, after a while. “I have never been this close to human territory.”
Inaho blinked. His lips gradually eased into a small, understanding smile.
“It is fine. Take your time,” he said. He extended a hand out, slowly, and the mountain god’s eyes had shifted to look at it. A moment later, a step forward. The deity gradually started walking towards where he stood, and it clasped the outstretched hand in a tight grip; their fingers intertwined. The mountain god seemed to be more confident with the hold, and it heaved a breath.
“Okay,” the deity said. Aquamarine eyes moved to look at a pair of his own, and Inaho gave the mountain god a reassuring nod.
They walked together until they stepped out of forest trees, and Inaho was stopped when the mountain god next to him had halted at the sight before them. They were atop of a hill, and so the village was beneath them. It was almost evening, thus there were people noticeably walking around fulfilling their routines— bathing in rivers, or hanging their newly-washed clothes dry. The viillage was somewhat lively, and Inaho could evidently see the awe the deity had worn on its face.
“Humans,” the mountain god merely stated, eyes moving to capture all of the activities that were occurring below. Inaho felt his lips tilt.
“Ready to head down?” he questioned. The deity tore its eyes away to look at him, and it sent him a firm nod. It was the mountain god who first strode forward, and pulled him along.
Soon they entered the area of the village, and Inaho found himself closely observing the way the deity had reacted to everything; it was a constant look of wonderment, curiosity— it was all things endearing to watch.
“So this is what human beings do in their daily lives,” the mountain god beside him spoke as it took in its surroundings— people busying themselves with their chores, giggling kids running around with wooden toys in their hands. “This is what you do?” it asked, and turned to look at him. Inaho blinked. He nodded his head once.
“Yes,” he simply answered. The mountain god nodded its head in apprehension, and proceeded with its march— until suddenly, it halted in its tracks. With their fingers untwining, the mountain god started walking its way to a different direction. Inaho blinked at the abrupt movement, and moved to follow. He was about to ask where the mountain god was headed, when his unspoken question was soon answered.
The mountain god stood before his home.
“This is where you live, am I correct?” the mountain god questioned, tearing its eyes away from the hut to look at him. Inaho gaped blankly, his mind muddled. He walked to where the deity stood.
“How did you know?” he queried, stopping at its side. The mountain god only diverted its eyes back to the hut that was before them.
“Your scent is scattered everywhere here,” it said, and gave a huge sniff. The mountain god then turned its head to look at him, and sent him a mischievous smile before proceeding to invite itself in. Inaho blinked once, until he was finally aware of what was happening. He quickly followed after, heading into his own house, as well.
There was not much to observe. The hut Inaho and his grandma lived in only had a small living room, two spare rooms, and a toilet. Behind was where the kitchen was. The mountain god still absorbed its surroundings with astonishment, though.
“Where is your grandmother?” it then asked, turning to look at him. Inaho blinked, and proceeded to look around the place. He just realized his grandmother was not present.
“Perhaps she went out to get groceries,” he told. The mountain god tilted its head at his words.
“What are groceries?” the deity asked. Inaho opened his mouth, but found himself blinking blankly in return.
“Groceries are… food,” he settled, plainly. The mountain god hummed, nodding his head. It then looked at him with eyes of innocent curiosity.
“Where do you sleep?” the mountain god spontaneously enquired, and Inaho blinked again.
“You want to know where I sleep.” he said. The mountain god wore a grin, only expecting a response. Inaho felt himself exhale a small breath. He shook his head.
“Follow me,” he said, and leaded the mountain god to where his room was. When they entered the said room, the first thing that caught the mountain god’s eyes was the futon that laid on the floor. The deity had instantly walked its way towards it.
“Is this what you sleep on?” it asked, and sat itself on it— not really awaiting for an answer. The mountain god laid its back on the mattress, and shuffled until it was at a comfortable position. Its eyes stared up at the wooden ceiling. “It feels weird,” it stated, eyes diverting to look at burgundy ones. The mountain god could see the human smiling. “What?”
“Nothing,” Inaho claimed, and turned away to where his study table was— his smile visibly still in place. The mountain god was about to retort, when it was abruptly interrupted by a woman’s voice.
“Naho— oh dear,” Inaho’s grandmother spoke, instantly caught-off guard by the foreign man in her grandson’s room. Inaho turned his head to look at her; his grandmother was standing at the entrance of his room.
The mountain god wore a wide smile at the sight of her. “You must be Inaho’s grandmother,” it immediately greeted, and sat upright from its previous laying position.
“Oh goodness. Naho never told me he would be bringing a guest over. I apologize if the house seems like a mess,” his grandmother instantly said, flustered with flushed cheeks. She looked at her grandson for an explanation, and Inaho licked his lips.
“Grandma, this is…,” he trailed, and it suddenly dawned on him— he had not known of the mountain god’s name. He did not know if the deity even had one. He blinked once, twice, and turned to look at where the white-haired deity stood.
The mountain god understood immediately. It turned its eyes away from Inaho’s to look at the old lady before them, and a natural smile slowly made its way to its lips.
“My name is Slaine,” the white-haired man with emerald eyes introduced himself, and Inaho’s grandmother nodded at the introductory with pleasant friendliness.
“Ah, Slaine. You must be one of Naho’s friends from school, yes?” she inquired, and the mountain god nodded its head with little hesitance. She proceeded, “I see. It is very nice to meet you. I was only here to ask what Naho wanted to eat for dinner. Have you eaten, perhaps? I could cook a serving just for you,” she offered, and the mountain god promptly shook its head.
“Oh no, I have already had my meal. Thank you for asking,” the white-haired deity returned with another smile, and Inaho only stared as the mountain god spoke words with small significance.
“No problem. Please, make yourself at home,” his grandmother said. She then cleared her throat, her eyes returning to look at her grandson. “Do, do you mind if I borrow Naho for a moment?” she asked. Inaho shifted his eyes from the mountain god to look at his grandmother then.
“Please, go ahead,” the mountain god said with a nod. Inaho’s grandmother swiftly smiled in thanks, and grabbed her grandson’s arm to pull him out of the room. She made sure to slide the bedroom door close before whirling around to look at her grandson in the eye.
“Why did you not tell me you were bringing your friend over, Naho? I could have at least made the house look presentable,” she chided instantly. Inaho blinked. His grandmother continued, “But anyhow, is your friend an immigrant? He does not look Japanese at all. Even his name is strange,” she said with her eyes narrowed. At words of those, Inaho immediately made to turn his grandmother around. He proceeded to push her towards where the cookery was.
“You should go prepare dinner instead of talking incessantly, grandma. My stomach is growling, and I want eggs,” he said, and could hear his grandmother heave a sigh at his words. Eventually, she started walking on her own, and Inaho released a quiet relieved sigh.
“Okay, okay. I’ll come and call you when the food is ready,” his grandmother said as she walked further ahead without turning around. Inaho felt his lips sliding upwards.
“Thank you,” he said.
Inaho made his way back towards his room. As he slid the door open, he found the mountain god standing at where the window was, back resting on wall— and he caught sight of a bird atop the window sill before it flew away. Inaho slid the door close behind him.
“Were you communicating with that bird?” he asked. The mountain god turned to look at him, and gave a nod. “What were you talking about?” he queried, and the deity only hummed.
“Small matter. Nothing of your concern,” it said casually. Inaho paused to send the mountain god a minute stare, and the deity grinned at it. The mountain god eventually gave in. “It told me all you do in this room is sit on the floor and read, read, read. If it was not reading books, it was writing on books. Do you not have other hobbies?” it enquired in a playful tone. Inaho looked away.
“What else is there to do?” he said, and the mountain god piped up.
“Plenty!” it insisted. The deity removed itself from the wall, and started walking towards him in slow, leisure steps. “Singing, dancing,” the mountain god listed, and stopped itself impossibly near to where Inaho stood. “Sexual intercourse,” it then suggested, teasingly. Inaho rapidly felt heat around the tip of his ears, and neck hearing those words. His eyes narrowed at a pair of emerald ones.
“No,” he spoke, and turned around. He moved towards where the door was. “We should head out. Dinner is most likely ready by now.”
“Did your grandmother not say she would come and call you when it is?” the mountain god questioned. Inaho halted, turning his head around slowly to look at the man behind him. He saw the mountain god tapping lightly on his ear, lips wearing a sly smile.
“My sense of hearing is still as great,” the mountain god merely pointed, mischievously. It let its arm fall, and walked its way forward, nonetheless. “Let’s head out, anyway. The room here is quite stuffy.”
Inaho stared as he watched the mountain god leave his room.
He was no longer sure if he was capable of dealing with the human form of the mountain god any longer.
❈
They chatted their time away whilst dinner was served— well, the talking was more of between the mountain god and Inaho’s grandmother herself. Inaho strangely found himself staring between the two as they conversed, calmly eating as he did; he had never seen the deity so… talkative. Well, there was never a proper chance for the deity to behave so, in the first place, thus it was not something unfathomable.
With the sun about to set, the mountain god decided it was time to take its leave. It sent its regards to Inaho’s grandmother, and she only smiled in thanks for the good company. Inaho told his grandmother he would accompany his ‘friend’ his way home, thus they both left the house at the same time— after the mountain god had bid its final goodbye.
The village was deserted now, as night time was soon. Skies were in deep cerulean blue, and crickets sang awfully loud. They both were hiking their way upwards the hill with languid ease, heading their way back with mountain trees in mind. Inaho was walking next to the mountain god’s side, but soon he was no longer in step. The mountain god had been unaffected, still hiking its way upward.
“Is Slaine your actual name?”
The question had made the mountain god halt. It turned its head to look at the human who spoke. Inaho proceeded.
“Or perhaps it was a cover-up—”
“It is, my name,” the mountain god interrupted, spoke in genuine honesty. Inaho peered up at emerald eyes a few distance away. He swallowed.
“Was it not a risk? To reveal your name so recklessly. I have heard of a folklore that says deities should never reveal their true names to lower beings like us, as they are prone to being—”
“Cursed?” the mountain god spoke yet another time, disrupting his words. Inaho saw a warm smile resting on the deity’s lips. “That I know very well of. It may be, true. But please, your grandmother means me no harm. She is a fine woman. I can tell,” the mountain god said with a fond liking. It turned its body around to proceed with its march, but the deity was instantly stopped by another question vocalized by the other.
“Me, as well?”
Emerald eyes turned to look at burgundy ones.
“You revealed your name to me, as well,” Inaho continued, and saw the mountain god blink. The deity then released a breath of disbelief. Inaho was completely stunned by the entirely new countenance.
“I am very well aware of that, human child. I am not so dumb as to not realize that,” the mountain god spoke, and it sounded as though it was deeply insulted. The dirty look sent his way had validated it.
Inaho continued to speak, nevertheless.
“Am I allowed to call you by your name?” he asked, with his usual candour— though the mountain god seemed to be taken aback by it, for some reason. They withhold their gaze for a long while. It was a moment later the mountain god spoke again.
“I do not see why not,” it responded, its lips easing into a small grin. The mountain god turned back to walk its way back towards mountain trees again, and the deity was, once again, stopped.
“Slaine.”
At the call of its name, the mountain god had turned to face Inaho another time; in the duration of that, Inaho had walked his way upwards the hill with swift steps. Right as emerald eyes landed to look at him, his hands had instantly cradled the mountain god’s face, and lips had moved to interlock with the deity’s own.
+
Slaine’s eyes had widened.
Familiar scent evaded his senses as firm lips were pressed onto his. He could only blink once when the human withdrew a short moment later; his mind startlingly blank, his heart beating unbearably fast. The man had never failed to find different ways to catch him off guard— but this, this was completely unheeded of. He stared dumbly at burgundy eyes before him, their faces now impossibly close. The human opened his mouth to speak.
“Because I cannot do this when you are in your true form. You did say this would be your first, and last time where you would be human, right?” Inaho had spoken. Eyes that were staring at his lips immediately flown to look at his own, and Slaine felt himself suck in a breath when deep burgundy eyes stared back into his. He saw human lips curve, slightly. Inaho withdrew completely then, taking a few steps backwards.
“I should head back. It is getting late,” he said. He smiled, and continued, “Let us meet again, tomorrow,” he told. Inaho bowed his head once, and turned to take his leave. Soon after he stopped in his tracks, and turned his head around to look at the mountain god once more. Slaine could only gulp— he still could not bring himself to speak.
“You look stunning enchanting, Slaine. You do every day, but currently, even more so,” Inaho spoke in forthright sincerity, and finally turned away. Slaine blinked at the statement in pure bafflement. He continued to stare at the human who walked himself back towards his home.
There was nothing but the sound of thumping that filled after. Slaine brought his hand slowly towards where his human heart was located— it was hitting his ribcage so stupidly fast he was sure it was not the least bit natural.
What…? he thought to himself in a sense of panic, pushing at his chest rather excruciatingly. His eyes were trained onto the retreating figure of the man that was the very cause of such irregularity, and he swallowed down the dryness of his throat.
What is happening?
Day 98
Inaho was sat with his back on the boulder. It did not take long for the white feline to emerge from forest trees. Inaho smiled as his eyes landed on the sight of the mountain god.
“Good morning,” he said. He patted his lap in a fond manner, and the white feline’s eyes shifted from his face to his lap. There was a whole minute of silence. Inaho felt his smile slowly ebbing away as the white feline stayed unmoving from its stance. There was no greeting coming from the mountain god itself, either. Inaho blinked once.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in slight concern. He evidently saw the white tiger shaking its head— its eyes returning to look at his own. The feline started walking its way towards him. Nothing, the mountain god had responded his prior question, and made its way to lay on the ground next to him— its head resting on his lap, in its usual settlement.
Inaho started combing through the furs, though with a minor reluctance in his movements. The deity most definitely did not notice, as it started its purrs after a few strokes. His lips tilted slightly at the sound.
“Indeed, you do behave similar to how a cat does,” Inaho stated with a sense of endearment. The mountain god was immediate in its response. Say that again, and let me assure you your face will be scratched. Inaho only chuckled at the warning.
The moment stayed for a long while; his hands weaving through white fur, and a purring tiger on his lap. Somewhere along the way, closed eyes of the white tiger’s had opened to stare ahead at nothing. It was not long before the mountain god brought its voice known.
Inaho.
He paused his hands at the call of his name. Inaho proceeded his caress instantaneously after.
“Hmm?” he responded, and the mountain god answered, Nothing, I just wanted to say your name. Inaho frowned at words of those.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. He was forced to retract his hand when the mountain god lifted its head away from his lap. It moved to direct its emerald eyes at him. Inaho stared openly at them. No. Why do you think of such?
“Because you are behaving weirdly,” Inaho plainly stated. He proceeded to watch as the white feline started getting up onto its four-feet. The mountain god continued to stare at him, and a while later took a step backwards. Inaho felt his brows furrow even further at the motion.
The sudden silence was so strained between them, it was totally unfamiliar, and frightening for Inaho to experience.
“Hey,” he started, and the mountain god stood unflinching. It continued to bore its eye into his own, silent. Inaho swallowed at the intense gaze. “Is anything alright?”
I do not know, the mountain god’s voice echoed in his head. Inaho blinked in surprise as he could recognize the tone of uncertainty. I do not know what is happening to me, the deity continued.
Inaho wanted to say something— anything that could provide reassurance, comfort— but he realized he did not know what to say. He proceeded to stare at the deity before him in a sort of helplessness, and it was soon after the white feline closed its eyes.
I… need to be in seclusion, the mountain god merely stated. The white feline turned its body around, and began walking away. Inaho sat at the same spot, stared as he watched the mountain god take its leave.
He had never felt as helpless as he did now.
۩❈❈❈۩
To turn human had been a wrong choice. To befriend a human had been a wrong choice.
Humanity was a territory he should have never meddled with, what with these confusing symptoms he was experiencing now.
He was scared.
And Slaine had never been scared.
Day 117
A few weeks had passed, and Inaho had not seen the mountain god ever since the last encounter.
He was starting to worry.
“Slaine!” he shouted around the forest. He swallowed hard at his throat. “Slaine, please, at least show me you are doing well,” he told, and nothing but silence returned him, his voice unheard of. He released a disheartened breath, and walked his way around the forest, still.
“I do not know if you are hiding from me, or that you are not at all well. Speak to me… please,” he said, his legs moving to a slow stop. His eyes closed in exasperation, and he bent his knees down. His hands covered his face— this vulnerability he felt, he absolutely detested it.
There was the sudden sound of crunching leaves, and Inaho removed his hands away from his face when he heard of it. He paused when he saw the figure of a white feline a short distance away. With a sharp inhale of breath, he immediately stood up from his crouching position.
I am well, the once familiar voice now completely distant, echoed in his head. Though Inaho had never felt more relieved. He let himself release a slow breath.
“Thank… you…,” he said, in a small whisper. Inaho did not speak of what he was thankful for— for the mountain god’s appearance, its words, or its state of well-being. It was possibly all of it at once, and Inaho could somehow tell the deity had understood.
This is your fault, the mountain god declared suddenly, and it made Inaho blink in slight befuddlement. I do not know how, but this is entirely your fault. These… things, that are occurring to me right now, it claimed. The white feline started striding itself towards to where Inaho stood. He did not dare move lest he make the mountain god retreat again.
Whilst the tiger walked, luminescent lights had made their appearance out of thin air; Inaho was initially puzzled, but he soon grasped the situation. Small orbs reached its point where it grew intolerably bright, and Inaho had willingly closed his eyes. He opened them again instantly when he could.
A man with white hair and emerald eyes seized his vision. Though it was not the same. The man’s face was red, his eyes nearly tearing. Inaho’s eyes had widened at the sight.
“Take responsibility,” Slaine said with his human moving lips, his voice shaking with tears welling up even more. It was instinctive when Inaho moved to wrap his arms around the mountain god’s body, moving its head to his shoulder. There was a cry released, and the deity he embraced gradually shed its heavy tears.
The mountain god was weeping heartbreakingly in his arms.
❈
Slaine withdrew from the arms that gave him such warmth, and he sniffed at his nose that was partially blocked— an unfamiliar circumstance.
“All better?” the human asked. Slaine looked to gaze at deep burgundy eyes. He wore a small smile.
“One way or another,” Slaine told. They stayed that way, boring into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, until Slaine became the first to back down from the eye contact itself. He gently wrapped his arms around Inaho’s body a second time.
“Perhaps it is not bad, to stay in this form,” he told in a whisper, burying his nose further into Inaho’s neck— breathing in the man’s scent, and embracing it. “I need to be human only then I can hold you this way.”
His words were returned with another pair of arms, encircling his body, holding him tight. There was a hand that moved gently to caress his hair.
Slaine could confirm that he liked this.
۩❈❈❈۩
Naturally, Inaho of course had missed the tiger form of the mountain god— he could only be as intimate as he did, stroking the white furs with its head on his lap. But the human form was pleasant all the same; even more so, if he dared say. Inaho had to be honest: witnessing the mountain god’s laughter was a delectation. The way how eyes curved along with lips, and the mountain god’s sound of mirth ringing in his ears— Inaho had never known he could be this charmed by something so trivial.
He was enraptured, and he was enthralled— entirely by the divinity that was called Slaine.
He was aware.
۩❈❈❈۩
Though Slaine had kept his human form, he did not ever want to venture outside the mountains again; in order to avert the knowledge of his existence, and to lessen the possibility of complications.
But really, there was only one true reason as to why: his human form had become only for Inaho’s eyes to see.
No other human beings, and only Inaho.
He did not care if it was absurd.
۩❈❈❈۩
Slaine had told him of the various specifics that was the mountains; areas that man cannot enter, spirits that man cannot see. Sacred trees and sacred water— it was as though the mountains had expanded as Slaine brought him conscious of different aspects, each day.
۩❈❈❈۩
“On the day before a new year starts— when the sun has set, and the skies are dark, perhaps for you the mountains would turn into a dreamlike place. As celebration, the gates of the spirit world opens, and a festivity is held; peculiar spirits would roam around with no restrictions, and the forest trees would come alive,” Slaine spoke, eyes moving to connect with Inaho’s own, “When the time comes, would you like me to bring you the sight? I can bestow it,” he proposed, and there was no way Inaho would refuse. He was convinced the mountain god actually knew.
And of course, he had answered yes.
Day 186
It was very well a few hours before a new year would come. Inaho found himself hiking up the hill, making his way towards the mountains, and shortly he realized this would be his very first time being in the mountains at night. He never really stayed when skies had turned too dark for his eyes to see. And soon he became aware it was a problem when he entered into mountain trees.
He really could not see.
“Um… Slaine?” Inaho called, walking to a slow stop as he stared at his surroundings. It was appallingly dim— all he could see was dark patches of shadows. “I cannot really see as well, with eyes of mine,” he explained with unease. Instantly there were sounds of crunching leaves, and hands that held his own.
“I am here,” Slaine spoke, and Inaho turned his head to gaze at illuminating blue-greens in front of him.
The mountain god’s eyes really did glow in the dark.
“Hello,” he said, and he could hear Slaine heave a chuckle. It made his own lips curve.
“Sorry, I had not thought of this through. Human capabilities of perceiving in the dark completely slipped my mind,” Slaine clarified whilst he continued to giggle, and Inaho only wished he could clearly see the look on Slaine’s face as he did. “But do not worry. There is a way,” Slaine proceeded, a pair of aquamarine eyes blinking before him in a relaxed manner.
With the darkness that embraced him, and merely a pair of glowing eyes at his sight— for others it may be slightly unsettling, but Inaho could only find it mesmerizing. He never had a favourite colour; but if he was to have one, it would be the colour that filled Slaine’s eyes.
“I am about to alter your eyesight, and as I do you will be perceiving things you have never before. Are you ready?” Slaine asked, and Inaho gave a nod without a single thought. Slaine took a step closer.
Hands that clasped his own had flown up to gently cradle his face; glowing eyes that was before him approached closer, until all he could see was aquamarine. The mountain god then proceeded to blow wind over his eyes— and it was by reflex when Inaho’s eyes had fluttered to close. When he opened them again, he was not fully prepared for the new vision he was offered.
The mountain trees seemed to have lighten up despite the darkness that surrounded; variety of spirits were seen floating in the air, as well as spirits who walked on ground. Spirits who moved in the air like how jellyfishes did in water, and eccentric ones that seemed to only appear in fairy tales— three-headed deers, species of birds that had fire for feathers, creatures that blew ice cold air. They all glowed, and made the mountains look more lively than it could at night.
It was overwhelming.
“You can see much better now, I am sure?” Slaine questioned, and Inaho had to tear his eyes away from the view to look back into blue-greens. He saw the mountain god wear a smile.
“Yes,” he told, nodding his head distractedly, “Much… much better,” he continued as his eyes proceeded to stare at the spirits that surrounded them. They all headed their way to a certain direction. “Where are they going?”
“To the festival that is being held,” Slaine merely said, and stretched a hand out. “Let’s go,” he said, and took hold of his hand. He pulled him along as they started walking with the other spirits at their presence.
They had strolled until they arrived at their destination, and indeed the place was a festival; lanterns were hanged up high, and food stalls were lined at the sides. The only thing unusual compared to ordinary festivals was that no one was manning the stalls— and that instead of humans, it was spirits that filled the place. The area was festive in its own way.
“Was there always such a wide space here?” Inaho questioned as he took in the incredible vast space the festival had covered. He diverted his eyes to the stalls, and stared at how various peculiar creatures were gathered gobbling up their ‘food’. He heard Slaine release a breath of mirth.
“The trees had relocated for the occasion, of course. It is tradition. The fes-
tival has always been held right here for centuries,” Slaine explained. He noticed Inaho staring at the spirits eating, and sent the man a mocking grin.
“Do not eat the food here. Unless you wish to return to the spirit world with them.”
Inaho’s eyes immediately flown back to look at Slaine’s own, and the mountain god could only laugh at the other’s startling gaze. He grabbed hold of Inaho’s arm, and pulled him as they walked a tad bit faster. “Hurry, now. You must see the ritual. I am sure they have already commenced.”
They stopped to a place where a sudden huge stage was placed; they were at the very edge of the festival, and Inaho could see the familiar cherry blossom tree located behind the stage itself. Though, what was more bizarre was the creatures that performed; ones that played the instruments, and ones that danced with beautifully-adorn fans. They wore attractive patterned-kimonos as though how humans did at town when they celebrate the start of a new year, but this was different. They were not human. Their heads were of different species of animals: cats, dogs, foxes— face powdered, painted as though for display in consideration for a performance. It was oddly, disturbing.
“It is alright. They are aerosaltants. They are here to entertain the spirits that are within, and you as well,” Slaine assured, as though sensing the hint of anxiety that arose in Inaho’s core. He unconsciously gulped, and proceeded to watch as the ritual took its place.
Drums, and the sounds of a shamisen; a song that sung with an ancient string instrument played by a man-hare, and bells ringing as few performers held them in their hands whilst they danced.
Although it was outlandish, it was a performance.
The song suddenly flowed to a slow stop, and the creature’s movements gradually halted; Inaho could not describe the feeling he felt when all heads atop of the performing stage turned to look at where he stood.
Though to be more precise— at Slaine’s way.
Inaho’s eyes shifted to look at the mountain god next to him, and Slaine was wearing one of his placid smiles again. His eyes had turned to look at him.
“You are in for a treat,” Slaine merely said, and left his side, walking to step up the stage. Before Inaho knew what was happening, a new melody had begun to play; the shamisen started its screech pleasantly, and the clothes that Slaine worn had turnt. His hair grew exceedingly longer, and his face becoming one of powdered, painted like how it was with the other performers— though it looked more sophisticated. Red filled the top of his eyelids until it arched like a wing, and they shone on his lips, as well. There was an odd glint in Slaine’s eyes when they landed to connect with his own, and Inaho found himself gulping a second time.
Slaine had looked entirely different with the new appearance, and it was startlingly seducing.
Inaho could not tear his eyes away. The mountain god started moving to the tune of music in gentle swirls, flicking his wrists once in a while as the drums hit. Cherry blossom petals were falling as Slaine moved, and the kimono the mountain god now wore flapped beautifully as he spun. Delicate, gentle movements flowed with the harmony that played, and Inaho had to acknowledge the show was beyond divine.
Just like everything that Slaine was.
Soon he was aware the spirits around was slowly gathering the stage like crowds— mesmerized by the mountain god’s own little show— and it had made Inaho’s lips smile unknowingly
Slaine’s charm, was truly remarkable.
❈
“How was it? Did you enjoy it?” Slaine bombarded him with questions as they walked their way to a lake. Spirits were surrounding the place, too, drinking up their fill of water as they rested. Inaho saw a large glowing elk with giant antlers at the opposite side where they stood— he could clearly see the animal had three pair of eyes, head lowered down as mouth touched the surface of water.
“I enjoyed it, very much,” Inaho told Slaine, removing his eyes from the elk to look at the mountain god next to him. “Do you take part in the ritual each year?”
“No. I rarely do so. This year I thought I might as well, as you are here with me,” Slaine spoke, his face relaxed into a calm expression, his lips faintly tilted. Though it had might have been months since the mountain god had settled to stay in its human form, Inaho still found it fascinating to watch how the mountain god’s facial expressions manifested. It was one of the many things Inaho found incomprehensible when it came to Slaine.
And truly, he did not care.
Fireworks in the cities were soon released into the midnight air, and it filled the skies with diversity of colours, signalling a new year had come. With the loud booming sounds, and hues reflecting the ground, undoubtedly each and every of the spirits that were within the mountains had looked up at the tinted skies.
“It is time,” Slaine said, his eyes staring up at the fireworks that appeared one after another. He shifted his eyes to look at Inaho. “They are about to return,” he told, and Inaho looked away from fireworks to see what the mountain god was indicating.
Glowing spirits that lighted up the mountains gradually turned translucent, and it was as though their bodies were emitting out tiny sparkles, evaporating instantly. In a steady manner, each spirit began vanishing from their feet to their heads— like pieces of burning paper, until they diminished into nothingness; glittery essence floating up into the night air.
It was by time they were the only ones left, saved for the few spirits that resided the place (Inaho could see them, now). The mountains went back to its lull, as the fireworks had stopped. The moon shone brightly in the dark night sky, and Inaho became aware of the light that had reflected appealingly on Slaine’s pale skin.
Once again, he was entranced.
Noticing a pair of eyes staring his way, Slaine returned it by turning his head to look at him. Inaho traced every facial movement then— brows lifting up higher, eyes a touch wider; lips pursed, and a dimple shown.
The mountain god had blinked.
❈
“What is it?” Slaine asked, and Inaho continued to bore his eyes into his own, his face disconcertingly blank. Slaine was getting more uncomfortable as the seconds passed by.
That was when Inaho leaned in, and an arm that moved to embrace the arch of his waist. Slaine blinked at burgundy reds in a state of disorientation, flustered at the sudden intimacy.
“Inaho—”
And he was interrupted with an overlap of lips.
His hands flew to land on Inaho’s shoulders, but he did not do what he had thought he would. He had not pushed him away. Instead, he brought the man boundlessly closer, eyes fluttering shut, his breath trembling as he reciprocated— sounds that he did not want to admit he had made, and his arms moving to curl around the man’s neck.
The burning in his stomach had felt tremendously pleasant.
Day 194
“Slaine.”
“Hm?” Slaine answered, drowsy eyes opening to look up at him. The mountain god’s body was sprawled onto the ground, his head nestled in Inaho’s lap, and it was as though they were at their usual settlement again— but no, this was different. Slaine was not a white tiger anymore, and Inaho had his hands buried into white, human hairs instead.
He combed through the hairs with ease— in gentle, mild strokes. He saw Slaine closing his eyes shut another time at the tender caress.
“Nothing. I just wanted to call your name,” he told. He could see Slaine’s lips curve. The mountain god buried his face deeper into Inaho’s lap, breathing in deeply— as though wholly inhaling his scent. Slaine then proceeded to press a kiss, and Inaho felt his heart give a squeeze.
He cradled the mountain god’s face, and turned it to face him. Slaine’s eyes gradually opened once more, and Inaho stared deeply at emerald blues.
He leaned closer, letting lips touch lips, and felt himself heave a sigh when he did.
He had fallen for a mountain god, and he did not know what to do.
Day 219
It was night time, and the sky was dark. Inaho had returned from the mountains to his home. He saw his grandmother sat in the living room as he walked in, and there was a white letter placed on the table before her. She was sipping on the cup of hot tea she made for herself— and when she looked up, her eyes widened at the sight of him.
“Mm, Naho!” her grandmother called, and choked— almost spilling the tea she held in her hands. She coughed, and Inaho heaved a sigh at the scene.
“You should be more careful, grandma,” he said as he sat down next to her, patting her back. His grandmother shook her head, a hand covering her mouth as she continued to cough. She picked up the letter that rested on the table before her, and handed it to him.
“This, came for you,” she said, and swallowed. “A letter from your sister.”
Inaho’s eyes shifted to look at the white piece of folded paper stretched out towards him. He blinked once, and moved to receive it.
When he unfolded it, he made sure to absorb the contents inside unhurriedly— dreading the news that came, but accepting it nonetheless. He refolded it nicely back when he was done, and swallowed the sudden dryness of his throat— the folded-letter now pressed firmly on the table under his hands.
His eyes shifted from looking down to his grandmother’s eyes. He attempted a smile, but he was not sure if it was of any use.
“I depart in twelve days. Afternoon.”
He told, and moved to leave— removing his hands on the table, and standing on his feet. He walked out of the living room in a lethargic motion; the perfectly folded-letter, a shape of a square, laid bared on the table.
Inaho’s grandmother was silent throughout the whole night.
Day 220
Inaho was behaving strangely.
Perhaps it was nothing weird for the man to leave his home, and arrive at the mountains when the sun had already risen for a while— but it was not usual. Inaho had always accompanied him while they watched the sun ascend together.
And like now, as they both sat together on the ground with their backs laid against stone, Slaine was aware of the dazed look Inaho had in his eyes— staring ahead at nothing, as though deep in thought. Slaine gave him a nudge, and the man was instantly awoken back to reality, his eyes turning to look at him.
“Is something the matter?” Slaine asked, leaning in to rest his chin on Inaho’s shoulder. He peered up at burgundy eyes. “You seem distressed.”
Inaho blinked at him, and Slaine saw the swallowing movement of the other’s throat. It made his brows crease.
“My sister sent me a letter,” Inaho started, after a while, and Slaine straightened up in surprise. He wore a smile.
“That is good news, is it not?” Slaine questioned, and Inaho looked at him in a sudden saddened manner, his lips tilting slightly. Slaine’s own smile gradually receded.
“A letter of a date. Of my departure,” Inaho continued. He went to grab hold of Slaine’s hands, and grasped it tightly. “I leave for town in twelve days, Slaine,” he clarified, and stared at him— waiting, perhaps, for a response. Slaine blinked once when he realized. His mind was oddly blank.
“Ah,” he started. He nodded his head, his eyes looking away from reds to look down, “I… forgot,” he said, and paused when his eyes landed on the hands that clutched his own. He moved them so he could reciprocate the hold. Slaine swallowed hardly. “Will you return?” he questioned as turned to look at Inaho. He was taken aback by the unforeseen tears that flowed in Inaho’s eyes.
“Of course,” Inaho said as he chuckled, his grip turning unknowingly tighter, “I will even bring back souvenirs,” he promised, and a tear dropped down his face. Slaine blinked in confusion at it, removing a hand from Inaho’s grip to wipe away the tears that steadily fell.
“Why are you crying?” Slaine asked, both hands now on Inaho’s cheeks. The man gave another laugh at his question.
“Why are you not? I might be away for years, for all you know,” he told, and his hands now moved to rest on Slaine’s waist. Slaine proceeded to settle his arms around Inaho’s neck, playing with the hairs on Inaho’s nape as he gave the other a thought on what he said. In the end, he still looked at Inaho in a befuddled manner.
“I can wait. Time is not a problem for me,” Slaine spoke with little regard, and Inaho released an amused breath at such words.
“Right. You do have all the time in the world, don’t you, mountain god,” Inaho said, pushing him down onto the ground. Slaine landed with a harsh thud, and his face scrunched up into a frown when Inaho went down with him as well— his body resting heavily atop of him. Though the frown was gone when the man buried his face into his neck.
“I do not want to leave,” a muffled voice said as lips moved against skin, and Slaine giggled at the sensation. He pressed his face onto smooth texture of hair, a content smile growing on his face.
“And I want you to stay, but we both know that is not a wise decision. You get to see your family, at least,” Slaine reasoned. Inaho lifted his face away to look at him. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, in silence, until Inaho went to peck him once on the lips.
“Still do not want to leave,” he claimed, and proceeded to bury his face into Slaine’s neck once more. Slaine only chuckled at the juvenile behaviour in disbelief.
They stayed that way for a long period of time— arms around each other,
their breathing calm, and even. Slaine’s back was laid on green grass and fallen leaves, and his eyes stared up at light, blue skies.
He tightened his hold around Inaho’s body, to a certain degree.
He was certain he would miss this.
۩❈❈❈۩
Despite what Inaho had feared— the conflicts or anger that had the possibilities of transpiring, there was absolutely none. Slaine only gave him understanding, patience, and acceptance for the next few days. It was a relief, more so than Inaho had thought it would.
But as each day passed, it was apparent Slaine got more wary— frenzied, from the countdown that ineludibly existed. Kisses got more desperate, hugs became tighter, long-lasting. It was predictable when their times were gradually spent in a sense of rush.
Though Inaho had not minded.
He, too, felt the same.
Day 232
Inaho had packed the night before. He deliberately left the house early dawn to make his way towards the mountains— to bid his final farewell to his lover.
Yes, Inaho was going to call it that. There was no point in denying it.
Slaine met him before he could enter the mountain trees, though— dashing towards him, and Inaho had to stop in place to catch the mountain god in his arms. The impact took the breath out of his lungs, and he laughed, breathlessly.
He pulled away from the embrace, and moved his head to take a good look of Slaine himself. His smile faded when he realized the state of being of the mountain god’s face.
It was red, puffy, and wet.
Inaho blinked in a stunned manner.
“Have you been crying?” Inaho asked rather bluntly, and Slaine’s face scrunched up even further, more tears pouring out as it did. The mountain god started wailing, in fact, at early daylight.
“Shhh, shhh,” Inaho hastily said, covering the deity’s mouth as he looked around, “You will wake the whole village up,” he said, and that made the mountain god reduce into sniffles— though Slaine’s face still scrunched up in discontent. It was adorable in every way, and Inaho found himself smiling fondly at it.
“Just a few days ago you were questioning my tears,” Inaho stated, and he watched Slaine wipe his own tears off.
“This is entirely different,” Slaine declared stubbornly. He spoke with a voice that indicated a blocked nose, and the mountain god frowned at himself for the unexpected struggle of speaking. Inaho’s smile stretched wider at the sight of it.
It was so delightfully endearing.
He brought his hands up to cradle Slaine’s face, and leaned forward to kiss the mountain god’s wet cheeks. It was four pecks later he finally withdrew.
“There, I kissed all of your sad tears away. Do not cry anymore,” Inaho told as he wiped the wetness of cheeks with his thumbs, smiling when he saw Slaine’s lips curving up as well. Slaine proceeded to envelop him with his arms again, his head buried further into Inaho’s shoulder. Inaho did nothing but returned the hold, his arms encircling around the mountain god’s body in a warm embrace. He patted Slaine’s back once in a while.
“I will come back and visit,” Inaho said, and Slaine hummed. “I will come back when I can. I promise you I will,” he told, and Slaine pulled back from the hold. His arms still encircled his neck, his aquamarine eyes peering into his own.
Slaine leaned in, and kissed him on the lips.
The firm pressure was not brief. It was long, and Inaho was the one who advanced it further; an overlapping of lips, one after another— slow, steady, hurried, and then slow again. It had progressed into a weary motion, until their lips separated, finally. Eyes that automatically closed upon contact lifted once more again. A slight hazy gaze, between the two of them.
A throat that bobbed as it swallowed.
“I will miss you.”
And a small, delicate smile.
He was sure he was going to miss Slaine more.
❈
He watched as Inaho left— hiding his figure behind mountain trees, only his eyes sticking out to establish the sight. A man had come to retrieve him, his attire not usual. At least, for Slaine— he had never seen them before. The man brought Inaho to a wheeled-vehicle, and Slaine saw Inaho’s grandmother there, as well— to bid her farewell, surely. A few words exchanged, and the vehicle took off with the start of horses galloping. Eventually, the vehicle left the village.
Slaine stared, and blinked at the sudden emptiness he felt when the vehicle became too far for his eyes to reach. He left the place where he stood, and plunged deeper into his mountains rather than staying at the outskirts of it.
He had settled, and it was unbearable.
It felt terribly hollow, to be alone, and not have Inaho at his side.
It was suffocating.
Day 241
I have thought, and gave a speculation that this is a good idea. I now write this in memo of remembrance that you exist. I shall write every once in a while. It is frightening, to imagine that one day, I may forget— or I may think that my memories were not of realism. But no, you are definitely real, Slaine. I still remember vividly the touch of fur, skin, hairs and lips. This is written lest there comes a time when I fail to recall.
It has been a few days since I have departed, and I already miss you dearly. Things were instantly hectic for me as I arrived the heart of town. Though I guess it is good I need not bother finding a job with the help of my family. Ah, my family. It was pleasant to see my parents again, as well as my sister. She still loves to belittle me, but only to hide the fact that she cares for me very much. It is nice to wake up in the morning, and see them waiting for me at the table so we could eat our meals together. It is a nice change.
I wonder what you are doing now, Slaine. I hope you are doing well. Are you sleeping? Or are you thinking of me? I hope it is the latter, as right now I am thinking of you. It is only fair if the notion is mutual. I feel bad to think more of you than of my grandmother. I wonder how my grandmother is doing, as well. Hopefully, fine. She is a strong woman.
My mother has called for dinner. I guess I shall quickly end the first memo here.
Terribly misses you,
K. Inaho
Day 284
I am faring as badly as I have thought I would. I was at work today, and there was at one point when I thought of you, and could not stop. I got distracted, and got chided by the executive. I blame you, Slaine. But do not worry, as I am an efficient man. I got incredibly annoyed at the executive who chided me, and performed my duties out of spite. In the end, I finished my work a tad bit too quickly, and got off work early. It was satisfying to see the look the executive had on his face when I left the place.
Though, right now I only wish you were here where I can embrace you in my arms again. I miss your scent. I miss your smile. I miss your giggles when I give you kisses on the neck.
Slaine, are you thinking of me right now?
Day 409
I apologize, for not frequently writing. The previous memo had left a bitter feeling in me, and I realized I did not even bother to put a signature at the end.
How have you been doing, Slaine? I guess I am doing well. Work is going fine— I have been promoted. Money is coming in surprisingly well, and my family is pleased. I am perfectly aware of my life getting busier and busier day by day, and I always try to keep you in mind. But despite the efforts, there are times when the work I have is too much for me to do so. I feel vastly guilty, but I came to understand that there is no point in me brooding over it. I love you. I always will. It is an unvarnished truth.
I have been trying to request for leave at the head office so I could finally come and visit you, but it is either they are extremely in need of my help, or they stubbornly refuse the idea of me leaving town. I do not think they are so incapable, thus it is probably the latter. Perhaps they are afraid I would run away. And I actually might. I might take it into consideration, once I return to your arms again. Ah, what a lovely thought. I wish I can do that right now.
I hope you are missing me as much as I am missing you, Slaine. If you are not, I will feel extremely betrayed.
It is getting late. I have to wake up especially early tomorrow, for work. See you in my dreams, Slaine.
Loves you immensely,
K. Inaho
Day 471
When I see birds on the streets, they remind me of you. White lilies in flower shops, they remind me of you.
Honestly, why had I thought I would ever forget you?
I am always remembering you, Slaine.
Full of affection for you,
K. Inaho
Day 553
As of now, it is New Year’s. People on the streets are filled with laughter, and fireworks are playing. There are some people who are enjoying their time attending the festivals that held, and that includes my family. They are suspicious of my odd behaviour, though— it is not that weird to wish staying at home instead.
I will be honest, though. I am in a mood of nostalgia. Right now, fireworks reminds me of nothing but the time I spent with you on the final day, the previous year. The creatures that I’ve seen, the food stalls, the lanterns, the ritual, the festival itself. It all feels so much like a dream. Especially when I was there to spectate your performance. I can recall how bewitched I was when I watched you perform. I wonder, are you doing the same thing now? Are you watching as the spirits departs your mountains like tiny entities floating in the air?
I wish I could have spent the New Year’s with you this year, as well.
Constantly having you in my thoughts,
K. Inaho
Day 632
My family mentioned of marriage, today. Particularly, my mother. The first thing that came to mind was the thought of you. She kept mentioning about finding a girl, and getting married. I told her I was only nineteen. And she reasoned it with ‘two years to twenty-one. A perfect age for marriage’, and I was only thinking of the poor girl who will be forced into a marriage at such a young age— or maybe, even younger. And with the thought of you, as well, it completely infuriated me.
I was so angry. Angry of the possibility of that ever happening, and even more so at the thought of being tied to with someone other than you. So angry, to the point where I got irritated over my mother at the dining table. It was only a while after I realized how rude I was behaving. It was most definitely odd for my father to witness such a side of me. Thankfully, my sister was not around at the time to perceive it. I had not spoken with my mother since then. Hopefully she would forget about the entire occurrence— about my outrageous mannerism, and of the marriage itself.
I just want to come back to you, Slaine. I am completely frustrated of the fact that I cannot. I want to run to the mountains and embrace you in my arms, like how we always used to.
When will that day come?
K. Inaho
Day 688
Today, I dreamt of you. I dreamt of us being reunited, and it was all kinds of wonderful. The birds called like how it did in early mornings, and cicadas sung like how it did as days got hotter. Your arms were around my neck, and mine around your waist. Our foreheads were leaned against one another, and I stared at brilliant aquamarines. You have not appeared in my dreams in a while. But I have likewise not been having dreams lately. Though if I were to have dreams like this from time to time, I guess it would be alright.
I woke up with a terrible mood, however. I gravely did not want the dream to end. Right now, I can still vividly remember how your eyes had stared into mine.
I miss the colour of your eyes, very much.
I miss everything about you.
K. Inaho
Day 756
It is such a heavy burden to hold a mountain god as a love interest. Do not get this the wrong way.
I have a co-worker who goes to work with me every morning. I thought of her as someone awfully nosy— she continuously loves to pick her nose into other’s business, especially mine. I did not get why she had the urge to constantly do that to me, but I recently found out about it a few days ago.
Apparently, she has feelings for me. Do not fret, I rejected her right away. But here comes the problem. Remember that I told you she was a nosy person? Yes. Now, she is curious as to why I am rejecting her, and as the days pass it gets harder, and harder for me to resist her intrusiveness.
I mean, it should not be this hard. I could just lie, and tell her that I do not like her face. But even that did not work. She knows, Slaine. I do not know how, but it scares me to some point.
If our situations were switched, I would honestly think you would be better at handling her.
K. Inaho
Day 794
I apologize, Slaine. My patience wore thin with her. I told her the truth in the end.
She made me snap completely. It gradually got worse as she kept asking me more questions. And as I was so tired of hearing even mere questions from her, I answered them all. But do not worry, your identity is still concealed. I told her about you, but vaguely. She now has this thought of me having a ‘girl’ back at my grandmother’s place, who I am still in a relationship with. Which is partially true— just that you are not a ‘girl’, but a mountain god. A deity, much more transcendent than a ‘girl’.
Though, I do hope you feel the same way as I do. Us being in a relationship, I mean.
Miss you,
K. Inaho
Day 863
Slaine. I have a cat in my home, now. I saw it on the street. His fur is white, and he has blue eyes. It reminded me of you. I adopted it, and named it Slaine number two. Yes, my family did look at me weirdly for that, but I did not the least bit care. I feel less lonely, now. I feel as though I am more, or at least a little bit closer to you than before.
I know, it is strange.
I hope you are doing well, Slaine. The cat is very cute. I wish you will be able to see him one day.
K. Inaho
Day 947
Slaine number two is growing bigger, and he is very healthy. I took careful attention not to get him fat, so I want to proudly announce that achievement. Once in a while I would find myself talking to the cat about you. I just thought you would like to know that I refer you as ‘ascendant’, when I do.
Slaine number two is not as friendly as you are. Whenever I go in for a hug, he runs away. It wounds me a lot. Maybe because I have the expectancy of a reciprocation— like how you would, always.
It is almost two years since we last saw each other, and I want you to know that I still think of you.
What about you, Slaine? Are you thinking of me right now?
K. Inaho
Day 1056
Inaho exhaled a deep breath as he opened his eyes. He saw his feet first. He was standing on grassy grounds. When he lifted his head up, he faced a familiar scenery.
The mountains. It was the mountains behind his grandmother’s home. The mountains that Slaine resided in.
Inaho instantly felt the pounding of his chest.
He took a step forward, and then another. Gradually, he was walking. Eventually, he was running. He was plunging deeper into the forest, and he let his legs lead him— to a place, where they would always meet.
When he reached, the huge stone in the centre had more green moss on top of it than he could remember. He was slowly aware of the green plants that increased at his surroundings; the barks of trees seemed to have gotten lighter, the shade of trees bigger.
Along with him, the place had aged.
Inaho walked towards the huge boulder, and touched the green moss that grew atop of it. His lips unknowingly slanted upwards as he felt the texture.
And then the sound of crunching leaves had made him pause.
Inaho blinked once, and swallowed. He slowly turned around, his chest squeezing incredibly tight at the anxiety that peaked. It was as though all energy left him when his eyes saw what he had wished to see— the presence of a white tiger.
It took a while for the white feline to approach him. Each step took way too long, but Inaho waited. He waited for the feline to step out of mountain trees shadows, to properly stand before him. Though it did not— it only stepped out barely enough to see its upper body, but it was enough. To Inaho, it was more than enough.
There was only a long silence then. They both stared into each other’s eyes for an extended period of time— and god, how much Inaho had missed the colour of those eyes.
Inaho swallowed, and he smiled.
“Slaine.”
A whimper was released.
He took a step closer, and slowly extended his arms out.
“Slaine. Come here,” Inaho spoke, tenderly.
Immediately there was illuminating blue-green lights, immediately Slaine started sprinting towards him— from four legs, to gradually, two legs. The transition nicely ended with human arms hugging one another— and eventually, their lips brushed against lips.
❈
Slaine felt tears well up in his eyes as he was enveloped with that familiar scent once again. He was about to burst into tears, honestly. This was way too overwhelming.
Lips moved against lips for the longest time, and it was a while later before they could actually pull away. Slaine looked at Inaho in the eye again— and he forced his tears down as he was looking at burgundy-reds once more.
“The wait was worse than I thought,” he said, and Inaho chuckled— Slaine wanted to cry at witnessing it another time.
It was quiet, as Inaho did not say anything. He only continued to stare at him tenderly, a tilt to his lips, and his thumbs rubbing the hold of his waist every once in a while. It should have been ticklish, but Slaine only found it affectionate.
“You have aged, and gotten taller,” Slaine said then, only now realizing that the line of sight he had of Inaho was different. Inaho towered him, now— though slight. It was unbelievable how fast humans could grow.
“And I like it this way,” Inaho spoke shamelessly in a small whisper, leaning forward, and his grin turning wider when Slaine started frowning. He could not frown any longer, though— having such a beautiful smile like that shoved into his face hindered him from doing so.
Inaho rested his forehead on his own, and their noses bumped each other along the way. He saw Inaho closing his eyes, moving his nose against his in an affectionate gesture— and it made Slaine weak to his knees.
Burgundy eyes opened again, and Slaine swallowed.
He was far-gone enamoured for this man.
❈
“Tell me, Inaho. How it was like, during the time you have been away.”
They were still enveloped in each other’s arms— on the ground, now, facing each other. Slaine had his hands on Inaho’s chest as the man rested one hand on his face, tenderly caressing, and one arm that became his headrest. Inaho hummed at his enquiry, thinking.
“The town… it is a place of hustle. Everyone who walked there wore a face of business, work— complete opposite of the tranquillity that settles here. It was overwhelming. I had some difficulties settling with the change of atmosphere—”
“Though you did, in the end,” Slaine interrupted. His eyes, which stared at his hands on Inaho’s chest, shifted to look at a pair of burgundy eyes. “You have been there for two years, after all,” he claimed, and silently thought, two long years. Inaho only blinked at him, his face unchanging.
“Tell me, Slaine, what about you? How have you been?” he questioned then.
Slaine turned his eyes to look away.
“There is not much to tell. It is the usual. If people walked too further into my mountains, I would make them retreat,” he stated. He then swallowed. “And several times… I would wonder… if they would be you,” he confessed. He felt his face turning warmer at the admission. He peeked a glance at Inaho, and saw the man blink in a sense of sadness.
A hand that caressed his face moved further to weave through his hair, and Slaine’s eyes automatically closed at the gesture.
“I apologize. For making you wait. I sincerely do,” Inaho spoke with a voice of genuine regret, and it honestly hurt Slaine’s heart to hear the tone.
“Though you will leave again,” Slaine returned, and he moved himself closer towards Inaho’s embrace— the warmth, so pleasantly familiar. He never wanted Inaho to leave.
“No. I am staying.”
Eyes slowly opened to stare at burgundy-reds.
Inaho’s eyes seemed to trail to everywhere of Slaine’s face— as though to take in every of its details, bits and pieces.
“I will be staying… with you, for an eternity,” he finally said. Slaine’s brows furrowed at such words, and the man only proceeded to push his head to his shoulder, holding him close.
“There is not a need for me to leave. I am already home, Slaine.”
Slaine blinked. He slowly withdrew from the hug. He searched Inaho’s face for answers.
“What… what are you saying?” he questioned. Inaho proceeded to stare at him with a look of calm compassion.
“There was a fire incident… at the place I work,” he started, and Slaine instantly shook his head. He pushed Inaho’s chest away. There was a cry, and Inaho quickly moved to envelop him in a hug.
“It was a life to save a few lives, Slaine. It was worth it. Don’t cry,” Inaho spoke as gently as he did, and Slaine proceeded to sob. He tried to tear away from the hold, but eventually the energy had left him. He was helpless as he stayed in Inaho’s arms.
His heart was torn into pieces at the sudden harsh truth.
❈
“Look at you. Your face is all swollen, now,” Inaho said as one hand caressed the side of Slaine’s face. The sky was dark now, and they sat on the ground with their backs laid against the huge boulder. Slaine sniffed at his runny nose.
“What… what about your family?” Slaine asked. Inaho sent him a smile. He placed his hand down.
“I have sent my regards, of course,” he told, and gave a pause, “…Although they had not the ability to hear them.”
Slaine gazed at Inaho in a pained expression, his heart wrenching terribly. Inaho heaved a sigh at it.
“Dying was not such a tragic matter to me, Slaine. If I had known you would be this upset, I would not have revealed anything,” he said. Slaine scowled at such words, and Inaho gulped at the abrupt change of expression. “That… was a joke. Please do not stare at me that way,” he said, and looked away awkwardly. Slaine’s scowl slowly receded then, and his eyes turned to look away as well. He brought up his knees, and wrapped his arms around kegs.
“This is something major to process all in a single day, so… I hope you would give me some time to think it through,” Slaine started. Inaho looked his way, and nodded his head. He leaned his head backwards to let it rest on the stone behind them. He proceeded boring his eyes into Slaine himself.
“You are still as pretty as you were before,” Inaho suddenly told, bluntly. Slaine spared a glance at him, and gave a breath of amusement.
“And you certainly have not changed in the least,” he said in retort, chuckling, and looked away. There was a long moment of silence after. Inaho spoke another time.
“I have missed you, dearly,” he then said— this time, in a gentle whisper. Slaine turned his eyes to look at the man sat beside him, and he felt the curve of his own lips. He moved to rest his head on Inaho’s shoulder, and shifted until he was at a comfortable position.
“I missed you, dearly, too.”
۩❈❈❈۩
Year 1941,
Shouwa Period.
Our days are spent together— and of course, they are not days spent like before. There is no more rush— only serenity, and ease. We could spend hours sleeping in each other’s arms, and there would be no panic of awaiting departure. Though there are times where several reminders come to remind us that things are no longer the same; I still remember the look Inaho had on his face when he came to understand his eventual translucency on the tip of his fingers. That is when I embrace him, and cradle his head to my shoulders; my sincere offer of comfort, because there was nothing else I could do. I could not erase the feeling of oblivion that soon awaits him, and it pains me, deeply so.
But Inaho— he only smiles each and every time, and sends words of comfort that warms my heart instead. Do I feel as though the heavens took this boy’s life in order to fulfil my desires? At times, yes. It brings me an unbearable guilt. Inaho would say it is illogical, but I cannot help but think of so from time to time.
The heavens have granted me an eternity with the man I love, but in return, he would lose his connections with the realm of the living. It is, in a way, an odd sense of tragedy, and there was nothing I could do to turn things around.
Every once in a while, though, he would surely come and remind me: “This is where I want to be.”
But these feelings of guilt, of sadness— they are not evitable. I hope he would come to understand that one day.
Yet this is an eternity, and an eternity with the value sealed— however prejudiced, however one-sided, it will be an eternity which I will cherish; treasure, with every living moment— every hour, every second.
I love you, Inaho.
Forever more I will.
END
۩❈❈❈۩
Author’s Note:
Ohhhhh my god I finally finished it!! I am so happy!! Omg. Ahaha. Well there you guys go. This story gave me such a pain in the ass to be quite honest because I started writing this before my final papers, and then I had to forcefully stop thinking about it to focus on my finals ;_; but everything worked out in the end!!! (I think. I am sorry if you read the story and think it was too rushed, because yes I am rushing with the deadline omg ahahah) !!!! I honestly tried with the Ghibli-theme, it was so hard, I swear to god. I was almost convinced to rewatch all Ghibli films just to get ~the feel~ back, and get more inspirations LMFAO but time isn’t with me gahhh. Welp! All in all, I hope you have enjoyed this;;;; Thank you so much for reading! ♥
The final(e) fantasy InaSure Anthology fic has arrived!
The Rose And The Thorn
by Ambyrfire
Last but not least, prepare to dwell in the extraordinary Vampire AU which will simply take your breath away with all the thrills and flourishing love. Feel the beat! *heart pounding*
click ‘Keep reading’ below.
***Please wait a while for reading on OrangeBat-Sanctuary website, due to some technical problem occurred. I could only post on Tumblr at the moment, and soon the authors will post on AO3***
Happy Birthday Reading!
Love,
Rosiel
The Rose And The Thorn
by Ambyrfire
Rating: 18+
Tags: Alternate universe, Vampires, blood-drinking, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of past abuse, implied torture, implied past non-con, suicidal ideations, growing up at war, trauma, angst, self-image issues, enemies to lovers, developing romance, vague use of politics and military strategy
Author’s Note:
This story is a “post-canon” because it follows the events happening after a canon-paralleling AU. Therefore, some essential details that occurred in the earlier part of the AU don’t get explained in the story, but are still important. So here’s the quick version: Aldnoah is what gives vampiric powers to its holders. It is transmitted via biting. The process of turning into a vampire is a two-part “contract” in which the first half involves being drained near to death. Then, the person being turned consumes the blood of a vampire (presumably the one that drained them). With the “contract” completed, they have been turned. Inaho is, essentially, at the halfway point of this contract.
Aldnoah bestows special powers on the holder of the bloodline (the leader of their clan). Asseylum possesses the power of Dominion, which lets her instantly bend all vampires to her will. Cruhteo possessed Tharsis, which enables the holder to see brief flashes of the future. Vampires drinking one another’s blood is considered taboo, and so when Saazbaum fed some of Cruhteo’s blood to Slaine after rescuing him (giving him Tharsis’ power), it was both theft and sacrilege.
That should be everything you need to know. Hope you enjoy your read!
Special thanks to Hakumei_Hogosha, who was instrumental in helping this fic take shape, and to Rosiel_AZ for organizing, compiling, and funding this fanbook. Additional thanks to a certain fish, plum, and ku (you all know who you are) for assisting with the development of this very complicated fic and its world, in all their iterations. Last but not least, many thanks to the AZ family of writers, artists, and fans who supported me and listened to my whining and panicking as finals and deadlines loomed. Much love to all of you!
Ambyrfire
I.
Black Rose
“At last”
Those were the words that ran through Slaine’s mind as he felt the silver knife strike home in his gut and sink in, visceral and killing cold. Not, perhaps, what one would expect from a prideful vampire knight just defeated by a human. But Slaine was tired, so tired… he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. His other goals had withered and curled up and fallen away one by one, until the only thing left to him was the release of his final sleep.
He smiled at Kaizuka as he felt his body go limp. Perhaps the man thought it strange– Slaine didn’t really care. He was grateful to Kaizuka for this at least, for granting him rest after everything else had ended. For doing what he could not, and removing him once he became useless.
His senses went dark swiftly, so he did not feel the arms that caught him as he fell, and lowered him gently to the ground.
•••
Slaine had not expected to wake up at all, so it wasn’t so much the silver chains binding him to the chair that surprised him as the fact that he was even alive to register the dull burn against his skin.
There were voices… someone– no, more than one person– talking. About… him?
–“dispose of this creature. It would be vastly preferable if we could, but that vampire Queen would loose her hordes upon us if we do.”
“I doubt she, the champion of the peace, would go so far– but the settlement may be more in our favor if we have her gratitude.”
“Is it not dangerous to keep it alive all the same?”
“Regardless, our hands are tied. In any case, I trust that Kaizuka will be able to handle most issues that arise.”
He almost hadn’t noticed the muzzle. He probably wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for the silver bar behind his fangs, like a bit, scorching his tongue. Once it registered, he wanted to tear the filthy thing off of his face and spit until the vile taste was gone– but he was too weak, too drained, to move. Much less overcome the effect of silver.
The place where Kaizuka had stabbed him still throbbed. Even if he had been at full strength, the silver-made wound would have been difficult to heal– and now, bound and weakened, it was far beyond him to close the gaping hole. It bled sluggishly.
He should have been dead by now. Why was he still here?
The voices hadn’t stopped. But now they died down, dragging his attention back to the words.
“Then the matter is settled. Have that thing taken away to its cage.”
They weren’t going to execute him? Why?
If he’d had the strength, and if it hadn’t been for all that damned silver, he might have fought back as they dragged him away. If he had the strength. That was beyond him now.
•••
Inaho braced himself against the wall with one hand, rubbing futilely at his leg with the other. The pain was nearly constant now. Usually in the past, it had faded at least somewhat after a while. Before the war, and even during it.
Now, it hadn’t lessened even slightly for a fortnight.
Concealing everything– the limp, the hesitation and deliberate caution behind all his movements– from Yuki was becoming ever more difficult as it went on. He had started to become used to the steady pain, but there were moments– like this one– when the lightning wrapping his bones became too sharp to bear.
He bit back a hiss between clenched teeth.
That final fight with Troyard had been… far more than difficult. He had pushed himself to his limits– past them, even. And he had succeeded in striking that final blow.
But yet…
There had been a strange reticence in Troyard’s movements. As though the battle mattered little to him. He had left many openings, carelessly missed numerous chances to strike Inaho down.
Or rather… not “missed.” Inaho knew how Troyard fought, and that laziness was so unlike him that Inaho could only see it as intentional. Troyard had deliberately avoided chances to make fatal hits.
That left the question: why? He may have had no intention of killing Troyard, but Troyard had no way of knowing that.
A fresh lance of agony shot up his muscles, and he fell to his knees with a gasp. He beat back the impulse to collapse into a fetal curl on the ground. Instead, he pushed himself back to his feet, one hand to the wall for balance, the other fisted at his side. When he relaxed his fingers, there were new-moon crescents marked into his palm by his nails.
He could handle this. He had fought this way for long enough. He could live with it as well.
•••
The silver cuffs where blistering his wrists. Slaine could feel it. Along with the ache across his belly from the fresh scar there, broad and raw and ridged. The wound had closed, but that was all. The blood they had given him was thin and old. Not strong enough to heal him completely. Which was, of course, why they had given it to him. They wanted him weak, in pain, subdued.
Well, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t intimately familiar with subjugation.
—Fangs sinking into his throat as he cried out and struggled, small human limbs too weak to fight off the attacker eagerly draining the blood from his body—
He closed his eyes and breathed the memory away. There was enough recent pain in him that he didn’t need to dredge up old ones. The silver would still make him feel sick and weak even if he’d been born a vampire.
The distant, faint sounds of doors opening and footsteps reached his ears. He slowly and gingerly pushed himself upright, propping himself against the cold stones of the wall. There was a moment’s respite to brace himself for the arrival of the humans. No, not “humans.” There was only one set of footsteps approaching. Were they so confident in his weakness that they were willing to approach him alone?
Well. They weren’t wrong to be confident. Slaine doubted he could even stand, much less attack and take down a trained Protector.
Wait. There was something… off about the steps approaching. The gait was… halting. Limping. Uneven. Slaine’s eyes narrowed. Weakened he might be, but who would be so foolish as to approach even a weakened vampire while injured?
The rich, heady scent of human hit his nose and his heart sped up feebly. Ridiculous, really, that his instincts would try to kick in now. They were easy to ignore, however. He’d had years of practice.
The steps finally reached the door, and keys jangled in the lock. Slaine watched the door as it opened, and–
There was Kaizuka. Just standing there. Staring down at him. Slaine bared his fangs reflexively.
“I see you’re not dead, then,” Kaizuka said with infuriating evenness.
“So, you’re going to interrogate me? Get on with it already.”
“There will not be any interrogations.”
Slaine scrutinized that flat expression, trying to discern any hints as to why he was here. “Why keep me alive, then, if not to torture me for secrets?”
Kaizuka was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, there was something… oddly measured about his tone. “Seylum wanted you to live.”
The silver chains clinked faintly as Slaine stiffened. What? The Princess… she did not… hate him? Even after everything he had done, the battles he had fought in and later led? All the humans he had killed– and vampires too. The devastation he had wrought…
Even after all that, she still wanted him to live?
The tears were rolling down his face before he even noticed them welling in his eyes. He quickly looked away, even though it was far too late to conceal it from Kaizuka. Not that the man’s expression had changed as he stared.
Silver burned through his clothes as he wrapped his arms around himself. His belly ached, his limbs trembled with weakness, his chest shook with sobs that pushed at his ability to contain them. It wasn’t fair, he should be dead now, and yet here he was, wounded and chained and caged. Again, weak. Nothing.
Due to some vindictive malice the universe directed at him, Kaizuka was the lone witness.
He’d been deceiving himself, to ever let himself think that he could be anything more than the dirt ground beneath the boots of the strong.
His eyes flicked back to Kaizuka. He could feel the venom seething in his own gaze. “So,” he spat, “enjoy watching your enemy brought low?” He could feel another tear trickle down his cheek even as he spoke, and bared his fangs in a fruitless attempt to counteract it.
Kaizuka stared down at him, eye empty and cold. “No.”
That was all. No inflection, no mocking, no gloating. “Isn’t that just wonderful of you,” he hissed. “Why are you even here?” Slaine shot to his feet in one smooth motion, hitting the end of his chains with a jarring chaos of metal-on-metal.
Kaizuka twitched back slightly, but the satisfaction was crushed under a wave of agony from his abdomen. He collapsed to the ground. Curling in on himself, Slaine wrapped his arms around his belly. The pain dulled slowly, in surges, each one leaving him barely the time to catch a breath.
The trembling had worsened. His fangs pricked at his lip, and the burning in his parched throat clawed at him. He raised his head to aim a burning glare at Kaizuka. “I’m happy I took your eye,” he seethed.
“No blood will be sent today,” Kaizuka said, and left without another word.
Slaine relaxed slowly from his tormented curl, stones cold against his bones. He let his forehead loll to rest on the floor. Blood, more thin old blood that would restore him just enough to keep him weakened. As if withholding it was a punishment.
Blood, blood, he’d never been given the choice of whether he wished to rely on it or not, but here it was: survive off of the life of others, or die. Blood, red as the roses the bloomed in the Princess’ garden. They were beautiful roses. Huge, rich and bright in color. Long, elegant stems and sharp, shapely thorns. The thorns that would prick you, if you were not careful.
Red, red roses, and deadly thorns to draw blood from pure, tender skin…
Slaine shifted restlessly. If only there was some other source of scent in this accursed place, maybe Kaizuka’s damn musk wouldn’t hang like a malignant fog. Maybe it was simply that Slaine was used to vampires, their cleaner, simpler smells… or maybe everything about Kaizuka was specifically tailored to offend him.
He would have been unsurprised if that was indeed the case.
•••
Inaho rolled back and sprang to his feet, wooden practice sword braced and ready to block. Strands of hair stuck to his sweat-dampened forehead.
Calm recovered from his failed lunge and brought his own practice sword down in an overhead swing. The motion left his sides wide open, so Inaho darted forward, shield up to catch the blow. The impact jarred his arm as he struck for Calm’s unprotected side–
His leg gave way beneath his weight. He hit the dirt with a grunt of pain, muscle memory raising his shield to protect his face and neck. Calm did not (as he should have, in this practice match) press the advantage. Instead, he dropped his weapons and knelt by Inaho’s side.
“You alright? I’ve never seen you fall like that, what happened there?”
“I’m fine,” Inaho said tersely. He pushed himself upright, ignoring Calm’s offered hand.
His leg quivered when he put weight on it, jabbing pain striking up his muscles. He gritted his teeth. There was no escaping it; he simply was not fit for battle in this condition.
II.
White Rose
“Do you think I can’t hear you limping?”
Inaho stared down at the chained vampire. It had been more than a month since the end of the war, but the vampire still wore the same blood-marred clothes it had been dragged in with. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m not limping.”
“Right now you aren’t,” the vampire snorted. “But I just have to listen to your footsteps any time you think you’re out of earshot to know that there is something wrong.”
Inaho’s right leg chose that moment to throb. He carefully did not shift weight off of it. “Probing my weaknesses is pointless.”
The vampire looked away and sighed. “I’m not looking for weakness. I can’t help being curious. Any normal injury would have healed by now. What’s wrong with you?”
“Why should I tell you.” Inaho did not ask it as a question.
The vampire shrugged. “Don’t pretend that I can pose an actual threat to you, now. You beat me. That’s the end of it. I don’t even know what’s going on out there now.”
Inaho didn’t bother to respond. The attempt at manipulation was too transparently obvious to merit reaction.
The vampire did not appear frustrated, to Inaho’s mild surprise. Instead, its expression took on a weary, accepting air. “Very well. I’ll stop asking questions.”
“You don’t usually give up so easily.”
This brought out a bitter laugh. “I had something to fight for, then. Not any longer.”
Inaho regarded him. “This is a remarkably weak display for the one who united all of Vers’ vampires behind him.”
“Do you think I don’t know? I’m finished. Done with. I can’t even beg you for death.”
“Yes.”
The vampire turned empty eyes to him. “You do not understand how little I deserve her mercy. She should despise me. I did not merely use and betray her, I used and betrayed the hundreds and thousands who followed me on my fool’s quest.”
“I won’t kill you, vampire.”
It flinched as though struck. “I know. I’m not… asking.”
“You are not allowed to ask for anything. You are a prisoner of the Protectorate, under my charge.”
The vampire hunched over, pulling its legs up to its chest and clutching its chained wrists close. “I’m aware,” it whispered.
“Then you must also be aware than you mean nothing, here. Requests will be denied. Nothing will be given you other than the minimum necessary supply of blood. Do not overstep your bounds.”
Troyard said nothing. Stayed curled up, hair falling in a curtain that concealed his face. Inaho turned his back and strode out of the room, very deliberately not limping.
As the door slammed shut, he heard the edge of a sound– low, miserable sound. A sob. He walked faster, ignoring the pain in his legs. His footsteps rang in his ears, loud enough to ensure he heard nothing else.
•••
Slaine stayed curled up, hunched against the wall, long after the tears had ceased. Kaizuka had, with the same ruthless efficiency he possessed in battle, sliced open Slaine’s wounds and prodded them with precise, needling points. Stupid, stupid of him to let Kaizuka’s words hurt like this, but…
They hurt because they were true. They weren’t taunts– Kaizuka did not taunt. Kaizuka spoke truth. Cold, hard, inescapable truth.
“The Princess!” He had almost wept with relief, then, as the remnants of her power faded from the air.
“What do you want with her?”
Slaine’s eyes had snapped to Orange. Orange was standing braced, low. A fighting pose. Slaine bared his fangs. “Why should I tell you?”
“She fights with us now.”
“You’re using her?!” Oh how innocent he had been. The righteous, naïve rage that the idea had summoned forth from his foolish heart.
“If I am, do you have a problem with that?”
Slaine had seen Orange’s hand twitch, and drew his knife with vampiric speed. “Are you my enemy?”
He was met with a cocked crossbow.
Orange’s eyes were filled with hatred, cold and flat as a sheet of stone. “You are a vampire. You are my enemy.”
And Slaine had been too slow with his knife, because Orange had sunk a crossbow bolt in his thigh and vanished before his scream of pain and rage could escape his lips.
The puckered scar that that bolt had left on his leg. The lash marks on his chest. The fresh mark on his belly. All reminders. Reminders that he would never be one of them. No one could ever care for a monster like him, and the ones who tried came away worse for it.
“Vampire.”
Slaine lifted his head.
The guard kicked a bowl of blood through the space at the bottom of the cell door. Half of it sloshed onto the filthy straw.
Slaine didn’t move.
The guard made a sound of derision and turned on his heel. Slaine was left alone once more.
Vampire. Corrupt. Broken. Defiled. Traitor. Murderer. Enemy. That was all he would ever be. Being kept in this cage here was a fitting fate. It was better for everyone for him to be sealed away, like this.
•••
Pre-dawn light seeped through the shutters, foggy and cold. Inaho lay on his bunk and stared at the slats above him.
No one else in the room was awake, yet. Breathing was the only sound in the quiet room. A half-dozen different rhythms, out of time and shifting, always shifting.
Inaho twisted his fist into the sheets.
The noise the vampire had made, barely a sob, more of a weak, wounded cry of agony, echoed in his head. Washing wouldn’t make it go away. Reading wouldn’t make it go away. Inventory work wouldn’t make it go away.
His eye throbbed. He gritted his teeth, pressing a palm over the scar cutting across his eyelid. Rolling over onto his side, he breathed deeply. Slowly, the pain ebbed.
Lives, silent and sleeping. So many, around him. If he listened closely enough, he could almost hear the little soft thumps of beating hearts. Cages of bone and flesh, quivering and straining and writhing for nothing more than to keep perpetuating their existence on this earth. Fragile. So fragile.
The light through the shutters had strengthened a degree. Still dull and blue, but slowly clearing away the obscurity of darkness. Inaho rolled onto his back again to stare at the same slats.
Then–
A horn. Echoing through the half light, low and sonorous. Inaho bolted upright from the bunk. The alarm. Calling the Protectors to assemble, to perform the duty that was their title.
The horn rang out again.
An attack? Now? The peace had been unstable, but he hadn’t expected the first strike to come so soon–
By the time the third and final horn sounded, he was already pulling on his boots. “Calm,” he said, “get up. We must assemble.”
Calm staggered dazedly down from the upper bunk, rubbing sleep from his eyes even as his brow furrowed. “A call? But it can’t be, we’re at peace”–
“War does not end by command,” Inaho commented. The room’s other four occupants were even less alert than Calm. Inaho ignored them, leaving the room for the courtyard. He placed his feet carefully, pacing himself through the twinges in his legs.
Captain Magbaredge stood on the platform in the courtyard center, eyes scanning the already swiftly growing crowd. A babble of talk hung over the yard like a morning mist. Inaho worked his way through to the front, narrowing his eye and using a judiciously placed shoulder when necessary. He ignored the twinge every time he pushed.
“Where are those vamps? Wasn’t that the horn?”
“Are we under attack?”
“What’s happening?”
Inaho did not join the speculation. It was obvious. As the courtyard filled, words blurred into a mass of hushed voices. Until–
“Nao? Do you know what’s going on?”
“There was an attack at the border,” he said as Yuki fought her way through the crowd to stand beside him.
“There was?! Where? When?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t– what do you mean you don’t know?” Her voice rose as she spoke until her last word came out in an indignant squeak.
“I have not heard the specifics. But the horn was sounded. There are no attacking forces here. So they must have attacked at the border.”
Yuki was stunned silent for a long moment. “What… the border? Attack? Is… what about the peace?”
“Peace is a word,” he answered as the Captain stepped forward and gestured for silence.
“Everyone!” The crowd fell silent. Magbaredge nodded approvingly, resting one hand on her sword belt. “I know you are all concerned. You have been roused from your beds without knowing why. Know this: we are not under attack. There is no imminent threat to this fort. But there is a threat to all of us. A greater one.” Her tone became grim. “Outriders in the small hours of the night discovered the traces of a vampire attack on the border, twenty leagues from here. They did not sight any of the traitors that did it– the attack appears to have occurred during the late hours. However, even though we face no enemies clawing at our gates”– her eyes scanned the crowd– “We must be ready. We are Protectors; we protect these people, this land. So form up! I am sending out patrols to all along the border. Messengers have already been sent to the capitol– reinforcements will be close behind you. Some of you, stay here– we need boots on the ground watching this place. Patrols three, five, and ten, move out! I want eyes on our people and eyes on our lands. Clydesdale outriders, saddle up. I need you on relay and scouting. All other captains, report to the briefing room”
Next to him, Yuki breathed in sharply. “Alright, Nao. Let’s go.”
Marito tilted his head at them as they entered. Mizusaki looked up, and then back to the stack of reports spread in front of her on the table. The Captain stood at the back of the room, eyes scanning her officers as they gathered. She and Mizusaki shared a long look. Then, she stepped forward.
“I understand that you are all confused by this,” she began. “The alarm is not usually sounded unless there is direct danger of attack. However, this news is grave enough that I felt that raising the alarm is necessary.” She paused, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “The town of Grenhal has been ransacked.” Captain Magbaredge’s face was grim as she spoke. “Most of the townspeople have disappeared, but twelve… mutilated corpses were discovered. All of them had numerous fang marks. All the evidence points to this being a vampire attack.”
Inaho’s hands tightened into fists. Vampires, breaking the peace. Asseylum had refused to use Dominion a second time.
“We must mobilize our forces. Everyone, gather your units. We must hold the line. Marito, Kaizuka, have your people ready to march by tomorrow noon.” Inaho made to rise, and the Captain shook her head. Her expression was grim. “Not you. Kaizuka senior.” He felt Yuki’s hand come down on his shoulder, and shrugged her off. “Dismissed!” She called, and the meeting dispersed.
Inaho had to brace a hand on the table to stand. He gritted his teeth. They were right. He was too weak for the field, like this.
“Kaizuka junior.” Magbaredge came up behind him. “I’m sorry.”
“There is no need,” he said curtly. He did not look back as he walked away.
-
“The foothills,” Calm muttered, sounding displeased. “Couldn’t they send me to a garrison that isn’t the asscrack of nowhere?”
“At least it’s out of the way,” Inko pointed out. “Ridgebend, on the other hand, is smack in the middle of everything!”
“Aww Inko, we’ll be fine!” Nina elbowed her. “Anyway, we’ll have big strong Rayet along to protect us! Isn’t that right, Rayet?”
Rayet humphed.
Inaho twisted his hands together, listening to the tendons pop and shift.
“Inaho?” Inko was giving him that concerned expression again.
“I am certain you will all be fine.”
Calm clapped him on the shoulder. Hard. Inaho bit his cheek against the bolt of pain that shot down his arm. “See? Inaho believes in us!”
Inaho did not shift from his position. He watched them. He watched everyone, as Protectors and wagoners and logisticians and stable hands and smiths scurried back and forth across the courtyard like many ants. A day ago, this place had been the home of sparrows and horse dung. Was this all it took?
These barracks weren’t homes. They were a place built for war. Without it, they had no purpose. They’d stand empty. War had seeped into every whorl of wood grain and ceiling joist and cracked flagstone. It could not be separated from what the buildings had been, what they were, what they always would be.
Was it much of a wonder, then, that no one wished to be near them once the fighting stopped? You couldn’t live like that. With war ever on the mind.
The sun had fallen low in the sky. Inaho pulled himself upright, grip white-knuckled around a wooden post, and limped off into the shadows of the hall to find his bunk.
•••
The stone was cold against his cheek. Slaine could have moved. Could have pulled away from the wall. But what would be the point?
Kaizuka would come again today. Slaine closed his eyes. If he stayed here long enough, still, silent, would the cold seep through him? Envelop the whole of him, claiming every part of his body until there was nothing left of him but coldness.
Footsteps echoed in the passage outside. His eyes snapped open. No limp, footstep footstep footstep, many pairs of feet approaching–
He twisted to his feet as the lock clicked and the door slammed open. Too late.
Rough hands forced the muzzle into his mouth, locked the silver collar around his throat, bound his hands behind his back. He fought back, knowing it was foolish, knowing it was doomed. A violent backhand across the face was his reward. Dazed, silver burning into his skin, he was manhandled from the cell.
They dragged him down cold stone halls and shoved him to his knees in front of a man in a heavy, dark uniform. The corner of his eye caught Kaizuka, standing against the wall, looking… oddly tense.
A man with a wrinkle-ridged face squinted down at him. “So this is the vampire?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you can use it to find more knowledge of Aldnoah?”
“With enough time– we can steal the secrets of the vampires”–
Slaine froze. He had heard the stories, vampires starved and tortured to a slow, terrible death in the bowels of the Protectorate’s stronghold. Prisoners who, if they were ever recovered alive, were never the same.
“Our work has stopped since the end of the war, but we need subjects! The vampires are not trustworthy, they will attack again, we must be prepared”–
The man waved a hand at his robed companion. “I know this. Your repetition is of no use to me.” His eyes slid over Slaine as though he were examining a horse he wished to buy. “You believe you can make use of this one?”
“Yes sir, yes sir, a young vampire in its prime, what more could we want from a specimen?”
“Very well, then.” Slaine let his eyes fall shut in resignation. “You shall”–
“Sir, this is a waste,” Kaizuka interrupted. Slaine’s head jerked back up.
The man arched an eyebrow. “A waste? Explain yourself, Kaizuka.”
“No past experiments have come close to discovering how to transmit Aldnoah from a vampire without some kind of biting and transformation. One more vampire will not change that. Your researchers waste both their time and energy in trying.”
“Shut your mouth, aberration!” sputtered the robed man. “You know nothing!”
“I know you won’t find anything.”
“You attempt to call my plan worthless, yet I have not heard your proposal for how to put this wretch to use!”
“I have one,” Kaizuka said levelly. “Our border is still embattled. I would be an instrumental piece there. With a vampire assisting me, I will be that much stronger. We need every able-bodied fighter we can field.”
“Are you proposing,” the man squealed, “that we put the rebels’ former leader out at the front lines fighting them? Where escape would be a mere matter of slipping away?”
“I can control this vampire.”
“Control it? How? I demand PROOF”–
The wrinkled man held up a hand, and his companion went silent. The man spoke. “So, Kaizuka. You believe you can control this thing? Like a trained hound?”
“Yes, sir.”
A snarl rose in Slaine’s throat at that, even with the muzzle, but he bit it back. Now was not the moment to incite the humans’ anger on him.
“Then, Kaizuka, you may have the vampire. You will use it as a source of Aldnoah. It will fight with you on the battlefield, against its own, damaging their morale. It will remain collared with silver, as an extra measure of security. If it escapes, you shall face the consequences, Kaizuka.”
Kaizuka nodded. “Yes, General Hakkinien.”
“And, Kaizuka– I will be watching your efforts with great interest.”
Kaizuka bowed.
Slaine blinked, feeling as though the world had been tilted off-kilter. Had Kaizuka just… defended him? Protected him from unimaginable torture? It didn’t make sense. His enemy. Keeping him from harm.
He was taken back to his cell, and he sagged limply in the hands of his captors. The bruises would fade in hours.
Kaizuka undid the straps of the muzzle and drew it off of him. Slaine coughed, gagging and shuddering. “Why–“ he rasped out, “why did you do that?”
For a long moment, Kaizuka said nothing. “You asked me about the limp before. I did not answer. Now, I’m answering you. I need Aldnoah. You’re a vampire. You are more useful to me nearby, in the thick of battle, than being buried in a cage having your liver pecked at.”
“You never asked me if I wanted to help you. Fight for you.”
Inaho stared at him, eye flat. “But you will.”
Slaine gritted his teeth. Their gazes held for a long, long moment. If anything outside made a sound, Slaine didn’t hear it.
Then, he lowered his eyes.
“Tomorrow I will come to collect you. Be ready.”
Slaine watched as Kaizuka walked away. He reached up and held his arm. Slowly, he curled over, head hanging, arm curled over his chest.
•••
Slaine had been awake before dawn. More precisely, he had not been asleep at all. He had paced from one end of his chain to the other until he realized what a waste of energy it was. Then, he sat, back against the wall, and watched the stone bricks in the hall outside.
Darkness inside echoed darkness outside. He could feel the footsteps of the guards on the ground, hear the small sounds of birds fluttering through the grey, and little animals digging and seeking through the dirt.
The silver collar burned, cold and acid, against his throat. He wouldn’t be rid of it anytime soon. A dog must be restrained.
The open air. He’d see it again. Soon. Odd, really. He had thought– he had thought he’d never see the sky again, feel the wind in his hair and the sun on his face.
By rights, he thought, I should be dead. I knew I could not beat the Angel of Death again, not then, not in that condition. I did not want to. I accepted the fact of my own end. Welcomed it. A miserable resolution to an equally miserable existence. Why would I fear hell? I carry a perfectly-tuned personal hell inside me, with me wherever I go. Death is the last, the only, escape.
Yet here he was. Waiting for Kaizuka to arrive. To drag him back out into a world he had thought had left him behind for good. And he would go. Willingly, as a dog lured by a meaty bone. He could not, it seemed, live without the sky.
Perhaps he could die with it.
He heard, distantly, hooves. Kaizuka was here, then. The guards hadn’t started moving yet. Funny. They were supposed to be in charge of controlling him, yet were ignorant of what happened right outside of their own building. Human senses were a farce next to the unnatural honing his ears and eyes carried.
Boots thundered down the halls. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
The cell door slammed open. Slaine didn’t resist as they dragged him to his feet, wrenched his arms behind his back and cuffed them. It didn’t matter if their grip was too tight. If the way they handled him was rough to the point of pain. If the silver burned his mouth as the muzzle straps tightened behind his head.
There was no way of knowing what he might be headed into. But it would be nothing like he had lived before.
Kaizuka barely spared a glance at him. At the pointless spark of defiance rising in his chest, he glared at Kaizuka’s back. The man remained focused on his horse. Slaine gritted his teeth around the bit in his mouth. Won’t even look at me? That bored by your new toy already? Assuming your dog will obediently come to heel?
Then you’re right.
He hadn’t died. If there was a reason out there, then, for him to live…
Being Kaizuka’s pet was no reason. Slaine wasn’t looking for one. If Kaizuka’s knife had carved open the arteries and veins of his throat rather than the soft flesh of his belly, he wouldn’t have fought it. Bleeding out in the dirt, open sky wide and free above him, was a just, fitting end.
A spear butt hit him between the shoulder blades, and he staggered, his bound hands yanking against the cuffs as he instinctively tried to balance himself. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been bound, hadn’t been weakened by injury and deprivation, he could have recovered. But he felt it, knew that the push had been just enough. His feet went out from under him–
Kaizuka snapped out a hand and caught the rope tied to his collar, yanking him back upright. Slaine staggered, gagging with the force on his windpipe, but regained his footing.
“Don’t slow us down with transparent attempts to torment it,” Kaizuka said, tone flinty.
Slaine looked up at him, as far as he dared look away from the road and risk falling again. The eye on Kaizuka’s left was covered. Slaine knew why. Knew, intimately, the sensation of his shield hitting Kaizuka’s face, sliding through skin and across bone.
What he could see of Kaizuka’s face was empty. No sign of how he had noticed Slaine stumble.
Kaizuka needed him?
Slaine snorted under his breath, shifting his jaw around the muzzle to give his tongue relief from the burning silver.
Kaizuka had chosen poorly.
The sun was high in the sky, carving dark shadows and bright highlights onto every surface, by the time a Protectorate outpost rose in the distance. Slaine breathed deeply around the bit, still tasting the sourness of sweat in the back of his throat. At least if he didn’t breathe it in through his nose, it wouldn’t hit him hard enough to make him gag.
Dust and noise rose, filling the air as his escort approached the outpost. Slaine swallowed, biting back a cough as the grit filled his throat. The scream of the gate hinges shivered down Slaine’s spine. Eyes down, don’t provoke, don’t attract attention…
He was dragged across the courtyard and forced to his knees, lead tied to a post. Slowly, he let himself slump against it. He didn’t dare stretch out his aching legs, but relieving some of the burden helped. He kept his eyes down. His ears were sharp enough to hear every whisper, every mutter, every gasp, but it didn’t require particularly sharp senses to pick up on the fact that he was not, in any way, welcome here.
“Is that the vampire?”
“Where are its fangs? I can’t see them around that muzzle.”
“There’s blood all over it! Whose blood is that?”
“Kaizuka is welcome to that thing. Birds of a feather…”
Slaine raised an eyebrow, just a little, at that last one. Birds of a feather? Him and Kaizuka?
He’d been away from lowness for too long. Hadn’t forgotten what being spit on and stared at felt like, but… it had become less familiar. He closed his eyes.
His throat was dry, parched. But he was well used to that. Never truly sated… never truly free…
“Troyard.”
He jerked upright. A snarl of “Kaizuka” rose on his tongue. Pointless, with the muzzle on. He let it slip away. Lowering his head, he shaped himself into the practiced posture of submission.
Kaizuka stepped behind him and tugged at the muzzle straps. Testing them? Slaine held in a sigh–
The muzzle fell away from his face. He gagged, spitting, mouth free of the burn of silver. No muzzle? Here, in a compound full of humans?
“You trust me this much?” Slaine rasped.
There was a click. The cuffs came loose around his wrists. Then, Kaizuka came to stand in front of him again. Looking him in the eye, Kaizuka reached out and seized a fistful of his hair.
Slaine gritted his teeth. The stinging pain in his scalp made him squint, but he refused to show anything else to this man.
“I don’t trust you,” Kaizuka said evenly. “I think you aren’t stupid or suicidal enough to attempt anything in a courtyard full of people who have been trained to kill your kind from the time they could walk.”
Slaine hissed.
Kaizuka regarded him, and then– let go and stood, turning away. “Get up,” he said over his shoulder.
Slaine flexed his fingers, turning and stretching his wrists. The silver had left raised, red rashes behind, wrapped around his wrists. A reminder. He cradled one arm against his chest, rubbing the inflamed skin gingerly with his thumb, closed his eyes, and sighed.
Then, he stood, gripping the post for support. Kaizuka had not waited for him, and was halfway across the yard, only half visible among the back and forth bustle of people and animals. Slaine kept his eyes down as he followed.
The destination was some kind of stock room. Kaizuka handed him a change of clothes without glancing at him. He retreated back into the corner, one hand going to his collar. Kaizuka dug through some other pile of equipment, back turned.
Slaine looked away, determinedly facing the wall. He undid the buttons with swift, practiced motions, shrugging out of the shirt with a grimace. Half red, half black with blood, with more holes and tears than he could count after so many weeks of unending rough wear. Rent apart in the belly by Inaho’s silver knife.
Slaine let it drop to the ground. It couldn’t even be used for rags. It might be good for kindling, if nothing else. The pants were a similar matter.
He tugged at the ends of his fresh sleeves, looking over himself. This barely passed as a uniform, wasn’t one really, just shared general shape and color with the rest of its kind.
It was a quiet relief to finally be out of his ragged, bloodstained old uniform. Vampires may not need to bathe nearly as frequently as humans did, that was certain, but wearing the same clothes for weeks and months on end left him deeply uncomfortable, to say the least.
Perhaps it was an old habit.
He turned back to face the room– and found Kaizuka staring blankly at him. How long– he cut the thought off. No point.
Having his hands free was a novelty in and of itself. He tugged the sleeves down to cover the red, raw bands left by the months and months of silver manacles. He wasn’t free, not in any true sense of the word, but this still tasted enough like it that he was left strangely uncertain of what to say and do.
Kaizuka did not give that uncertainty time to set in. “Come here.”
Slaine obediently stepped forwards. Kaizuka snapped the lead off the collar. Slaine’s shoulders slumped with relief. At least he would be only collared, rather than collared and leashed like some kind of pet hound.
It helped the delusion of liberty stay intact.
Slaine twisted his fingers together to keep himself from tugging at the neck of his shirt up to cover the silver collar. It was solid iron, coated with a thick layer of silver, and he could feel it biting at his skin, slowly leeching his energy away.
He would get used to it. He always did.
“Follow me,” Kaizuka ordered. He led Slaine down a set of stone stairs. The air grew thick and chill. Slaine shivered. Kaizuka, he noted, had surreptitiously pulled his sleeves down over his hands. Cold-averse, then?
They stopped in front of the bars of a cell. The bars gleamed silver in the dimness. The door was open. Slaine breathed deeply. Then, he stepped forward, through the door.
And– Kaizuka followed. Slaine whipped around to stare at him, backing up warily. Kaizuka had no weapon drawn, though his hand rested tense and ready on the hilt of a knife.
“We leave tomorrow at dawn. There will be no delays.” Kaizuka’s voice was sharp, tense. “I brought you here. You know why.” He undid the cuff of his sleeve. “On your knees. Keep your hands behind you.”
Slaine shivered, and complied. He was well used to that order. The intent, here, was different, but the words…
In one rough movement, Kaizuka shoved the sleeve up his arm, exposing the pale inside of his elbow. He stepped forward, stopping just before Slaine. “Do not,” he said, “touch me.”
Slaine lowered his head in surrender, but not before he caught a glimpse of Kaizuka’s face. The man looked… oddly pale. It was the low light, more likely than not.
Now, he carefully released his instincts. Eyes closed, he could hear the pumping heart, could smell the sweat and flesh and blood in front of him, could almost taste the coppery tang already. He panted. His fangs pricked against his lip. Shuffling forward, his senses guided him to where the vessels thrummed hot and fresh beneath the surface. His eyes opened, taking in the vulnerably soft skin in the crease of Kaizuka’s arm. He tasted the skin with his tongue, salt and sweat and ash. The muscles tensed minutely beneath him. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching to hold the limb in place.
He drew his lips back, baring his fangs. Closing his eyes once more, he let the thirst overtake him, and sank them into Kaizuka’s flesh.
•••
Inaho tensed as the vampire’s fangs met his skin. The twin points of pain seared, sharp and hot, knifing up his arm. It took all of his self control to not pull away. His fingers itched to draw the silver knife hanging from his belt and sink it into the vampire’s throat for daring to come near him, to bite him–
No. I am doing this so I can protect them. I must do this. He violently suppressed a shudder as the vampire’s slick mouth continued to work at the crook of his arm. His heart thudded too quickly in his chest. A burning sensation spread up from the bite, aching and… draining…
“That’s enough,” he snapped, holding himself in place by force of will. Yanking away suddenly would only cause worse wounds, even if every second the vampire’s fangs were in him was deeply repulsive.
The vampire obeyed immediately. It did not even linger to lick up the blood leaking from the puncture wounds left behind. Instead, it returned to its hunched, lifeless posture, head down, and eyes on the floor. Inaho watched it as he pressed a cloth over the bite. It did not move.
His eye narrowed. This was an impressive act. He would not have thought the proud, clever, dangerous vampire prince capable of such a front of servility if he had not seen it with his own eyes.
He locked the door behind himself as he left, keeping careful watch on the vampire to guard against any attempt at escape. None occurred.
As he went up the stairs, he began to feel it. The difference. He had become so used to pushing back the pain, concealing the limp and flinches and sluggishness. But now…
Roiling slowly out from his core, the pain was melting, ice before fire. He bounded up over the last three steps into the courtyard, and landed solidly, balance perfect. He pivoted in place, scanning the yard– there. Weaving through the bustle, he made for a wooden post that held the overhang. Reaching it, he twisted his grip around it and pulled. In barely a blink, he was up and on the edge of the roof.
“Nao?!” Yuki’s voice rang out from below.
He peered down. “Hello, Yuki.”
“Get down from there! What are you even doing on the roof?”
“Testing something.” However, he complied, shimmying off the edge of the roof and dropping to the ground with a grunt.
“Testing? Nao, you should be taking it easy, you’ve already had to do so much for all of us”–
“I found a solution. I do not need rest any more.”
“Nao… the vampire?”
He brushed the roof grit off of his knees. “Yes.”
“Nao! That’s not…”
“Safe? It is.”
“What?! Do you trust a vampire to not kill you at the first opportunity?”
“No.” He focused on adjusting the hem of his sleeve. “I can control it,” he repeated.
“Control? How?! Nao, that doesn’t make any sense! It tried to destroy all of us!”
“This vampire has some strange attachment to the Queen. It won’t act out against her now.”
“It won’t– Nao, that’s ridiculous. And also, you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this. I don't care if you feel healed up– it’s not going to last forever.”
“I will not hide.” He said those words heavy and flat. “I will not stay safe behind these walls while Calm and Inko and you risk everything. Making use of this vampire allows me to battle.”
Yuki pressed a frustrated palm to her face, then swept her fingers back through her hair. It left her bangs standing up in a wild tuft. “Nao! This is too dangerous!”
“Fighting has always been dangerous.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it! I mean having a, a– filthy leech chained to you constantly!”
“You wish to keep me safe. Yes?”
“Of course I do, Nao!” Yuki’s voice quivered with too many emotions for Inaho to decrypt.
“I also wish to keep you safe, Yuki. I cannot bear to stand aside and watch while you are in danger. If there is anything I can do to help me protect you, I won’t hesitate. Even if it means allowing a vampire my blood.”
“Nao…”
“Do you understand, then? Why I must do this?”
She sighed. “I understand. Why do you think I fight? I’m just afraid for you, Nao. You were so young when it happened…”
“Yuki”– he said, gaze snapping up to look at her as he tensed.
She hugged him. He stiffened, and then slowly wrapped his arms around her in turn, letting his head rest on her shoulder.
Yuki sniffled. “I already failed to protect you then. And again, during the war… your eye”– she made a small, hiccupping sound, like a sob.
“It’s alright, Yuki. I’m strong now. I can keep myself safe.”
“You shouldn’t have to!” she wailed, holding him tighter. “You shouldn’t have to…” she said again, softer this time.
Inaho did not have a response, and so he did not try. Instead, he held on to her, and let her hold him. For a long, silent moment, they stayed that way.
Then, Yuki let him go. When he saw her expression, she was smiling. Just a little. “Promise me you’ll be safe?”
“I promise, Yuki.”
She sighed. “And I promise too. Can’t let myself get hurt if I want to protect you, right?” A little half-hearted laugh left her lips. “Don’t let the vampires bite.”
“I won’t.”
She looked back over her shoulder and waved as she walked away. Off to her own living quarters, to pack and prepare for the long journeys that loomed on the morrow.
“Kaizuka.”
“Captain,” he said, turning.
“Will you and your vampire be ready to move out at dawn?”
Inaho nodded.
Magbaredge crossed her arms. “Kaizuka. Are you certain about this?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never…” she stopped. “You are aware, aren’t you? You are bringing the enemy into our lines. Setting a trap for yourself.”
“It is not a trap, Captain.”
“Oh?” She eyed him. “What, exactly, makes you place so much trust in”–
“Yuki already asked me these questions. I answered her. She can tell you.”
“Kaizuka junior,” Magbaredge said, “I am not asking Kaizuka senior. I am asking you.”
“The vampire will do as ordered.”
“How do you know?”
“I will ensure it.”
“I will not condone torture, Kaizuka.”
“There is none involved.”
“Good.” Magbaredge faced the yard, looking over the compound as the fading light led the inhabitants to their beds. “I have a responsibility to the people here. To maintain order. To ensure safety. Even from themselves, sometimes. That goes for you, too, Kaizuka junior. You are already… looked upon with suspicion. Have you considered what freeing an infamous vampire leader may imply?”
“The vampire is not free. Merely under my watch. And I do not care what others think. I will do what I must.”
“You work best when operating on your own,” she sighed. “I won’t ask you to stop now. But Kaizuka”– she paused, and turned to look him in the eye– “Watch your back.”
With a solid pat on his shoulder, she left.
•••
Slaine curled up on the stones, shaking. It didn’t hurt, he didn’t hurt anymore, the pain left behind by blades and arrows and boots had melted away before the heat of fresh, live blood flowing through him. Even the relentless thirst, as used as he was to ignoring it, had abated slightly. He pressed his hands over his belly, breathing deeply. It wouldn’t last, it couldn’t last, but oh…
He felt so warm.
Tomorrow he’d be headed for the front lines of battle once more. Against vampires, this time. If he had ever felt at home among them, perhaps he would have thought of them as “his own.” Lucky he didn’t, then. What was more anonymous blood on his hands? Vampire or human, in the end they all bled red.
He pressed his hands over his face, nails digging into his skin. It was sick, wrong, he was sick and wrong for loving it, the taste so coppery rich on his tongue and the smell thick in the air and the vibrant red color. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself–!
Filthy depraved parasite. Ugly corrupted half-thing. He curled into a ball, arms wrapped around himself. The disgusting pleasure of the warm, fresh blood flowing through his body tore at him.
“Tomorrow,” he breathed, curling his fingers against the cold flagstones.
“Tomorrow.”
III.
Pink Rose
Early spring chill hung in the thick, blue-hued air, crisp and biting. Inaho surveyed the group– twenty-five Protectors, arrayed in loose marching formation. It would take them two days of hard travel to reach the former Grenhal outpost at the border.
His eye flicked to the vampire. It stood there, a mote of unnatural silence among the huffed breaths of horses and murmur of conversation. Okisuke’s laugh echoed dully in the morning fog. The silver collar caught the half-light and gleamed faintly. There was no lead attached, this time. A vampire on a leash would be useless in battle, as much more secure as it might have been. He simply needed to get used to it.
“Vampire,” Inaho said.
The vampire lifted its head an increment in acknowledgement. Other than that, it did not move, and kept its head down.
“Stay within my line of sight at all times. If you cannot maintain the proper speed, you will be leashed to the saddle and dragged. Do not fall behind.”
The vampire nodded.
Inaho watched it out of the corner of his eye as the formation coalesced around them. The vampire merely stood next to his horse. It was unarmed– but no Protector worth their armor would be so foolish as to think a vampire without weaponry was incapable of inflicting harm. Inaho’s hands tightened on the reins.
His horse wuffled and shifted from hoof to hoof. All the horses were restless. It did not require the delicate senses of a horse to detect the tension hovering in the dawn light.
Then–
“All! At the ready!”
Inaho shifted on the saddle, adjusting his hold on the reins. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the vampire readying itself.
“Protectors! Move out!”
The pace was harsh, the roads rough and uneven in the burgeoning light. This far from the center of the land that Terra and its Protectors controlled, the roads were poorly maintained. If not for the back-and-forth of soldiers and supplies during the war, they might have faded away all together.
Grenhal had thought itself safe. Border towns had always been at risk, and rarely went without protection– walls, a full garrison. Yet, when Asseylum’s Dominion pulled the vampire forces back into surrender…
It had been easy to celebrate the end of the war. To drop their guard.
And their sense of security had killed them.
Inaho’s knuckles went white. The urge to dig his heels into his horse’s sides and spur it forward faster rose in him. He pushed it down.
The vampire kept pace beside him unfailingly, through the arc of the sun sailing above them until shadows trailed long like grim black banners flying before them.
As color faded from the sky, they halted.
Pitching the tent, Inaho grudgingly acknowledged, was easier with the vampire’s silent, uncomplaining assistance. He left the vampire chained out by the horses. Luckily for it, the sky was clear of rain. Its expression had remained the same, unchanging, emotionless mask the whole day– except for once. When he had tossed it the spare blanket and bedroll. For an instant, the vampire’s eyes had gone wide, lips parting as though it were surprised– and then it had closed off once more. Inaho, however, had not let that crack in the mask escape him.
Lying on his own bedroll, restless, he turned it over and over in his mind. The mask was logical, expected. The slip was not. Surprise was not a reaction Inaho had predicted to be hiding beneath the vampire’s deception. Calculation, perhaps. Or hatred. Or satisfaction. Not…
Something eerily reminiscent of that vulnerable expression the vampire had shown when Inaho revealed the Queen’s request.
Enough. There was little enough time to sleep before his watch. Wasting it attempting to determine the vampire’s ultimate plan would only make him less able.
Inaho rolled over, closing his eyes to the machinations of the waking world
•••
Slaine tried not to stare as the group of humans entered the empty garrison. Even when he’d been on this side of the border, he’d either been too young to be taken to a military outpost… or staring it down from the outside, trying to crack it open.
The walls were plain stone. The ceilings were low, held up by beams and struts. There was nothing luxurious about the architecture, nothing decorative, nothing fanciful. It was merely utilitarian. No decoration hung on the walls. The beams were plain. The door lintels held no engraved designs. The emptiness, the barrenness, wove a thread of unease up his spine. He held no love for the vampires’ wasteful decadence that characterized even military buildings, but without it…
It felt alien. Unnatural.
Curled up behind bars once more that night, he stared at the wall.
Funny. He’d done more in the past two days than he had in months. It was merely running, not a real battle– yet, it still left him buzzing.
The fresh blood resonated still in his veins. It was repulsive, but it had kept him upright and apace with the humans on horses for two days of marching. Hopefully, it would hold him for another battle or two.
Kaizuka had given him a weapon. Let him test it, even. A narrow, diamond-shaped shield.
A bitter laugh rose in his throat. A shield? It could be a taunt. Could be a practical acknowledgement of his old way of fighting, during the war. More than likely, it was both.
Either way, it didn’t matter. The silver collar chafed, and he could feel the rawness of the skin beneath without even attempting to touch it.
On the morrow, they would set out once more. Searching for the vampire bands causing trouble.
He was not surprised at their presence. Dominion was difficult to resist, but it held no sway after the Aldnoah power behind it faded away. He had seen, up close and more personal that he had ever wanted, how much vampires hated humans. How far they would go, when they had the power. Of course some would refuse to obey. They lived for the blood of the battlefield, the sensation of crushing those weaker than them.
He was no different from them. His blood sang for it, the running and fighting and feasting.
He huddled into himself, arms crossed over his chest.
Tomorrow awaited.
•••
“Stray from my side and you will be given no mercy,” Inaho said as settled his quiver onto his back.
The vampire nodded. It was inspecting the straps on the shield he had allowed. Without even sharpened edges, the hunk of metal was no proper weapon– but in the hands of a vampire, even the blunt shield rim could be deadlier than any blow from a sword.
Inaho clicked his bow into place next to the quiver and jerked his head at the vampire. “To the main hall. We’re in the scout team.”
It followed him obediently, with the unsettling silent grace of a wolf. He kept his fists clenched to keep from twitching for his knife.
Grenhal itself– or rather, where Grenhal had once been– lay further off to the east. They did not waste time searching the ruins. Instead, Okisuke, he, the vampire, another woman, led by Marito, set off on the path the previous scouts had taken. Traces had been found– animals with unnatural injuries on their dead bodies, boot prints, charred wood.
“Halt!” Marito called from the front. “There’s something here.”
The woman advanced behind him. “A deer,” she said grimly. Kneeling next to it, she grimaced. “Those are definitely fang marks. Broken neck, too.”
“Everyone, stay together. Kaizuka junior, keep your pet on a short leash.”
The group moved on, drawn together into a wary knot. Inaho kept a hand on his knife hilt– a bow would be nigh on useless in brush and close forest like this. Then–
“Stop.”
The vampire had gone still. Inaho turned to look at it.
“They are close.”
“How do you know?” Inaho pressed as the others came to a halt.
“I– I can hear them.”
Marito rounded on the vampire. “This could be a lie. An attempt to distract us”–
Inaho saw the vampire’s eyes widen with fear as he heard it– the crack of a breaking branch. Okisuke barely managed to raise his blade in time to block the strike that came almost out of nowhere.
In a blink, vampires were all around them. Inaho snarled a curse under his breath, striking out with his silver-bladed knife. Without orders, the vampire pulled close to his side, shield up. A blow came down on the shield hard enough to make it ring with a frantic metal clang. It would have broken any human’s arm. The vampire shrugged it off. Inaho darted under the attacker’s guard and felt flesh give under his knife. Blood splashed hot up his hand. The enemy staggered back with an indignant cry– only to receive a heavy uppercut from the rim of the shield.
Inaho blocked a swing at the vampire’s legs, knife scraping up the sword’s edge. He flipped his grip and cut into an unprotected wrist. No armor, then. He and the others wore none, but they had not set out intending to engage– only gather information.
Now, they had more than they had ever desired to find.
His vampire blocked another blow. Inaho gripped his blade tighter, scanning the scene. Despite the surprise attack, they were holding up. None had fallen yet. The vampires attacked without order or formation. Fending them off was merely a matter of countering one at a time.
“Captain. We should retreat.”
“I hear you, Kaizuka junior,” Marito gritted out as his boot met a vampire’s stomach. “As soon as they give us some room to breathe, we make a break for it.”
“Yes sir!” the others chorused. Inaho nodded. His vampire said nothing, but settled into a defensive stance once more, braced to take the blows.
And then–
On his right, Okisuke screamed with agony and fell. A flash of metal, driving through the space that Okisuke had been protecting, right for his now-exposed side–
Something hit him like an iron bar across the back, knocking him forward. He staggered, whirling to face the scene–
His vampire let out a choking noise. The shield hung like a dead weight from one limp arm. From the middle of its back, a red-gleaming point protruded.
Inaho leapt forward. With one hand, he gripped his vampire’s shoulder. The other swung, sinking his blade into the enemy’s neck, the impaled body in front of him providing the perfect cover.
Inaho yanked, pushing the dead enemy away and pulling his vampire off of the sword blade in the same motion. The vampire fell back into him, and he had to catch it before it collapsed to the ground. Lowering them both to the ground, he looked around. Marito tended to Okisuke– it looked like a leg wound. The woman clutched her upper arm with a bloody scrap of cloth.
The brush was silent, the little space of path littered with slain enemies.
“We didn’t kill them all. I saw the rest run,” the woman said.
“Our priority now is to return to the base,” Marito snapped. “We have one injured”– he paused, glancing over. “Two?”
Inaho looked down at the vampire. It gasped in labored breaths. “You. Are you going to die?”
“No…” it rasped. “This… will close. Soon. It’s just– the blood in the lungs– harder to breathe.”
Inaho shook his head to Marito.
The vampire struggled upright on its own. Okisuke yelped as Marito pulled him to his feet.
Inaho would have been dead if that strike had hit him. Straight through his chest. Instant death.
The vampire had saved his life.
•••
Kaizuka remained as silent as usual during the rushed return to the garrison. They made it without another attack, despite the sluggish pace. The injured human slowed the party significantly. Slaine was secretly grateful; it would take at least a day for his body to recover fully from the cold metal driven through his ribs.
He shrank back away from the flock of humans that greeted their arrival. Panic was spreading through them like wildfire. He did not miss the suspicious, cold, furious looks thrown his way. Keeping his head down, he followed Kaizuka.
They did not head for the stairwell down to the prison quarters. Slaine’s heart rate rose. Instead, Kaizuka followed stairs up. Slaine kept pace behind him. His fingernails dug into his palms. Around his neck, the collar throbbed.
Kaizuka came to a stop in front of a door and unlocked it. He pushed it open. Slaine stared inside.
“Well?” Kaizuka demanded.
Slaine swallowed. “Why are you… showing me this?”
“You will not be kept in the cells any more. Your actions in the skirmish showed that that is unnecessary.”
Slaine blinked. “I…”
“Get in.” Kaizuka gestured impatiently, and Slaine obeyed instantly.
Kaizuka followed him.
Oh, Slaine realized. This, then. The thirst, whetted by the severe healing he had been forced into mere hours ago, twisted in his throat. He tamped down a surge of nausea. No point in putting it off. Lowering his eyes, he got down on his knees once more.
Kaizuka presented his wrist this time. Slaine let the blood take him, burning away all thought under that perfect satiation.
His whole body protested, the fading wound in his chest giving one last throb of protest, when he pulled away. Kaizuka watched him with that one dark, flat red eye. Slaine turned his face away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
Kaizuka left in silence. Slaine retreated to the bed, hearing the lock click.
He could have broken down the door. Snapped the lock like kindling. Torn though the night sentries like so much parchment.
Silver heavy around his neck, he curled beneath the dusty blankets and let his eyes fall shut.
•••
Sun-bright daisies bloomed along the trail as they moved from garrison to garrison along the border. Reports came every day now, of skirmishes and raids all along both sides of the border. Peace reigned in name. War reigned by the sword, bodies stacking high and blood soaking the dirt.
In the end, the battle came to them.
As their group reached the bottom of a rise, vampires poured over the top, rending the air with high-pitched cries of glee.
The vampires fell upon them almost faster than Inaho could load his bow. The bolt clicked into place as he swung it up, and planted a silver arrowhead in the skull of the nearest enemy.
He had no range. He needed a vantage point– cover, height, somewhere. There. At the edge of the field. A towering pine. He locked eyes with the vampire and pointed with his bow. The vampire followed his direction and then nodded, eyes widened with understanding.
Together, they cut across the fringes of the battle. It was mostly a matter of deflection. The rest of the combatants were too focused on their own opponents to notice the shadows darting past. Except–
A vampire stood above a fallen Protector. Troyard broke from Inaho’s side to beat the vampire back with his shield, giving the fallen man enough time to scramble to his feet and flee. Enraged by the escaped prey, the attacker struck for Troyard. The sword caught the vampire’s side, point sinking into the flesh. Troyard slammed his shield into the throat of the enemy vampire. There was a crunch of gristle and bone. The impact tore the blade from the vampire’s side. The other vampire staggered, clutching at its throat. Inaho dispatched it with another arrow. His eye went to the vampire’s wound. He looked up and their gazes met.
“Not– silver,” gasped his vampire. “It’s– closing already.”
Inaho nodded, once, and leapt up the tree trunk. Settled into position, he returned his attention to the fray. The vantage point was excellent. Little to no brush blocking his line of fire. A broad view of the open hillside. Enemy after enemy fell, an orange-fletched arrow sprouting from their skull or throat or chest. But yet–
It wasn’t working.
He could pick off a dozen of them from his position in the tree. It wouldn’t matter. They were losing ground. The ridge put them at a disadvantage. The vampires barely needed it to overpower them regardless.
A flash of silver and pale golden hair wove through the chaos. It was fascinating to watch; the spark appeared in the thickest knots of fighting, and unraveled them, leaving behind holes for Inaho’s arrows to fly through. It wavered away from the combatants, luring them out into Inaho’s sightline.
He remembered this dance. Remembered it from the other end, where that flash of gold and black melted behind a wall of human soldiers, vanished into tiny spaces in the terrain. Always deep in the thickest of the fighting, uncaring of the blades that cut his flesh, striking too quick to counter, playing the landscape like a true instrument of war.
His eye narrowed. The spark of silver-gold was not moving at random. The direction– up, up, up the ridge– was fully intentional. That was the plan, then?
Bold.
Inaho focused on thinning the throng blocking the way. That white-gold head bobbed and wove forward. Shield like a wall, pushing ever onwards up the ridge.
Inaho jumped down from his perch. Enough distant sniping.
Something wild thrummed through his veins as he ran across the battlefield, legs pumping and muscles straining with sweet fire. He vaulted over a crumbling wall, flying past several surprised vampires. He sprang over a ditch, landing with a roll and surging to his feet to knock aside an enemy standing in his way.
And–
The line was breaking. “To the ridge!” he cried. Around him, behind him, all across the field, a rallying cry rose from the throats of the scattered, battered humans. In a surge, they charged through the vampires. And up, up, up. Screams of pain and victory mingled– but they had taken it. They had the high ground now.
As one, the line bore down on the vampires. What had been a scattered, drawn-out fight was now a rout, vampires breaking formation and retreating, falling back.
Inaho stopped, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Somewhere, somehow, he had lost sight of that flash of gold through the chaos. Where had the vampire gone?
•••
Pain, curling around his body like a massive wasp, driving its stinger into him again and again. He was so weak, so terribly weak, his breath came in short, starving gasps and he could not lift a finger to move. It were as though all his tendons had been sliced, leaving him a limp, bloody doll.
He had sensed the blow coming, Aldnoah echoes ringing a warning in his veins, but he’d been too late–
Blood.
A pulse.
Close.
His body screamed for it. Veins thrummed with futile desperation. Mayhap if he hadn’t been sliced open and slowly draining his life out onto the churned mud, he would have lunged at the hapless human.
Lucky he couldn’t, then.
Distantly, he felt fangs prick at his lips. His mouth was open, gaping hungrily.
Were those steps?
Something warm and thrumming with rich, fresh blood was there, near him, near enough to grab. He lurched towards it feebly. Couldn’t reach it, of course. A plea rose in his throat, keening, starved– but his body was too weak to even give voice to it.
Then– it was there. Pulse, thrumming, warm skin soft and smooth before his fangs. He lapped at it, feeling the human’s heartbeat beneath his tongue, tasting the savor of sweat. Softly, he closed his mouth over the exposed vessels and sank his fangs into the flesh.
The rush of blood over his tongue was fresh, clean, hot– the sheer intensity of it made his eyes flutter shut. He could barely swallow. Yet, he had to, had to, had never needed anything more than he needed this, and he drank it down.
Careful, a voice in the back of his head whispered. Careful. Don’t hurt him. Because Slaine knew who it was. Knew this blood, knew the touch of the hand he gradually registered supporting the back of his head.
But oh, the blood flowing down his parched throat, so sweet and so savory and so vivid. He could feel its warmth emanating through his battered body, soothing away the pain. A moan spilled out of him as he brought his hands up to cradle the wrist pressed to his lips. He could drive his fangs into that vulnerable flesh again, make the blood flow faster–
No. Keep it in check. Don’t give in. Don't give in.
The edges of his wounds knitted together, broken bones fusing and wrenched tendons smoothing. He was still starving, that endless hunger roaring within him, begging and demanding more more MORE–
He pulled his mouth away from Inaho’s wrist, though he couldn’t withhold one last lingering draw of his tongue over the puncture marks.
Inaho frowned down at him. “Are you done?” His voice held the clear implication that this would be the last fresh blood Slaine would be allowed for a long time.
Slaine nodded.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah,” he said, flinching slightly at the obvious rasp in his voice. It took two helping hands and much flailing, but he finally made it to his feet. His ragged clothes clung stickily to him, still soaked with his own blood. He pulled his cloak around him, a small attempt to preserve modesty when his tunic and pants had both been slashed through.
He took a single step, and staggered. Inaho caught him, one arm ending up around his waist, the other bracing his hold across Inaho’s solid shoulders.
Somehow, Inaho kept him upright, sometimes almost carrying him. Slaine let the man do it, leaning into him heavily as he struggled back to shelter on coltish legs.
Staggering into the courtyard, Slaine immediately noticed the change. Carts, horses, people rushing back and forth, loads being tossed and packages being hauled inside.
“Inaho…” he said.
“I know.” Inaho’s arm curled slightly tighter around his waist. “I see it.”
“I can stand.”
Inaho turned to look at him. Their eyes met, blood-red-earth brown staring into sunlit-sky-blue. Their gazes held for a long moment. Then, Inaho nodded and let go, stepping away.
Slaine wobbled slightly, but did not fall. He breathed an internal sigh of relief. “I’ll be inside if you require anything of me.”
Inaho nodded.
Slaine made his way to their tent and sank down onto his bedroll. He rolled onto his back, then flinched as a half-healed wound protested. Readjusting himself so he lay on his side, his mind flashed back to the yard.
Humans and vampires were much the same, when it came to formalities. He had lived with vampires long enough to recognize the preparations.
The Queen was coming.
•••
Inaho fidgeted against the wall. On paper, he was no more high-ranking than any Protector with basic battle training and field experience. His refusal of a command position, after the war, had placed him between ranks. Properly, he held the same rank as the rest of the soldiers on the ground. In actuality, he had the honors of a Captain, and a close relationship with the vampire Queen. Officials did not seem to know how to react to this. He let them sort it out on their own.
This was why, in this moment, he waited for the Council along with the rest of the officers in this garrison.
This stronghold was a logical place to carry out a negotiation between the council and the Vers monarchy. It was set back slightly from the border, not deep in Protectorate territory– but neither directly in the areas riddled with insurgents.
Yet.
Seylum was coming. He had not seen her since the end of the war, when she had begged him to save Troyard.
She had ended the war with her Aldnoah. But not well enough. Seylum herself may believe coexistence was possible, but vampires had not changed. They clung to their superiority. No Dominion order could convince them to let go of it.
The Council of the United Protectorate of Terra filed into the room. Immediately, Inaho was approached by the Protector Superior.
“General Hakkinien.” Inaho dipped his head.
“Kaizuka,” Hakkinien said. “Excellent work. You have far surpassed my expectations in bringing that vampire to heel.”
“Sir.”
“I will admit, I did not have high hopes of success, even for someone such as you. Troyard is infamously proud and recalcitrant. In honesty, I am curious. How did you break him?”
“He did not present any challenges. Sir.”
Hakkinien smiled indulgently. “I hold no qualms about less-than-honorable methods. If he warms your bed, I admire your boldness and fortitude. Resourceful, too. What better way to establish dominance?”
“I have not”– Inaho clenched his jaw. “I do not bed the vampire. Sir.”
“Ah?” Hakkinien’s smile did not fade. “Impressive, then, that you bent this one to your will without any effort. Perhaps it is weaker than I assumed. I wish you luck, Kaizuka.” With that, he turned and began to fade into the crowd of other officers and officials. However, at the last second, he paused. “If it is true that you have not slept with the creature, perhaps it would be wise to not be spotted in public, tenderly carrying its injured form. It gives people ideas. Ideas they may act upon in unfortunate ways.”
With that, Hakkinien left.
Inaho blinked. He had had encounters with other young men before– swift, messy affairs that consisted of more awkward groping than anything else. It was an efficient way to release the accumulated tensions and adrenaline of battle. But to do that with a vampire– Troyard, of all vampires–
He shook his head. Troyard was impressive in battle. That was the end of it.
•••
The sound of boots approaching was no remarkable thing, in the busy rush of royal arrival. But these were familiar. Slaine swiftly tucked the makeshift bandage he had made, and pulled on a fresh tunic. He smoothed down the front of it as Inaho pulled back the tent flap.
“Lucky,” Slaine quipped, “if you had come thirty seconds earlier you would have caught me in a state of undress.” He let out a dry chuckle. “Not that you want to see that, I imagine.”
Inaho just stared at him fixedly, eye unblinking, brow slightly furrowed. Slaine cleared his throat and looked away. “I’ve been summoned to the session. You are to accompany me,” Inaho said, and dropped the flap.
Slaine sighed. Without making the air any more awkward with the wrong questions, he followed.
•••
“I am working with my nobles to free the blood slaves. They are making progress on releasing your captive kin even as we speak. Moreover, I apologize, once more, for the criminals causing you and your people grief.”
Slaine stood by silently. He could not bring himself to look at the Princess– Queen– much less speak. To his guilty relief, she had not once attempted to converse with him.
If she had, what could he have said? Apologize for betraying her? For leaving the world she dreamed of in a shamble that she, now, was left to fix?
“Do you have the ability to stop them? You utilized such an ability once, your majesty.”
From beside her, Klancain stepped forward. “Please understand. Dominion is powerful, but it places great strain on Her Majesty. She cannot sustain it for long. Even worse, it pains her to force her people into compliance. It may temporarily lead to a cessation of hostilities, but it is no real peace. I am certain none of us in this room desire that.”
Hakkinien nodded. “What you say is true, Lord Cruhteo. But at the same time, our people fight and die due to the actions of those you refuse to control.”
“We can find another way,” Asseylum insisted. “We must!’
Slaine glanced sideways at Kaizuka. Kaizuka had not raised his voice even once to join the discussion. His expression stayed flat and empty as it always seemed. Slaine, however, knew not to trust that veneer. Behind that blank face whirred the gears of a dangerous machine. Kaizuka’s mind was never still.
Then, he spoke up.
“General. Asseylum. Dominion will not work, even if used again. If the blood slaves are to be freed, a system must be established to get blood to vampires. There is no way around it. More importantly, these rebel groups are not acting independently.”
Slaine tensed. The room rang with silence.
Then, Klancain finally broke it. “Kaizuka… can you explain?”
“The initial attack was calculated in both location and timing to cause a response. The subsequent attacks have been placed in a pattern that appears random, but one merely has to look at it to see. There is an almost perfectly even ratio between attacks on military patrols and outposts, and attacks on unfortified settlements. If these were random attacks, initiated spontaneously by individual groups, we would see a glut of attacks on vulnerable targets.”
“Solid observation, Kaizuka,” Hakkinien said. “However, what makes you certain that the rates are not due to the vampire’s overconfidence or recklessness?”
“Timing,” Inaho replied. He pulled a notepad from the folds of his tunic. “I have recorded the dates of each attack, and their locations. They often occur in pairs: two attacks, spaced about two day’s travel apart, on settlements. Then, an attack occurs at a garrison centered between them. This is often accompanied by another attack on a moving party of Protectors, who are typically ambushed. I have been part of several of these battles myself.”
Slaine’s hands curled into fists. Not just unrest. An actual conspiracy against the peace was occurring, all around them. Somehow, he felt no surprise.
Only pure, burning rage.
The talks continued, discussing who could be behind this, and how, debating resource distribution and the problems of releasing blood slaves who refused to leave or had no place to go in Terra, arranging vampire troops to reinforce the safety of the border. Little was truly resolved, by the end. Asseylum was trying. He could see that. But he also saw the way Hakkinien watched her, the way a vulture watched a limping animal. Klancain’s ice-blue eyes remained unmoved, even as he took part.
At last, it ended. But before she left to return to her quarters, Asseylum approached Inaho.
Slaine carefully averted his eyes. Abruptly, he felt as though he were twelve again. Shy and awkward, awestruck by the beautiful young princess before him. But things had changed now. His innocence was long corrupted, and hers crushed by years of war and loss. They hadn’t truly ever been friends then, and they certainly weren’t now. He had no right to speak to her.
“Inaho,” she said. “Do you fare well?”
“Yes, Seylum”
“Are your friends alright?”
“Yes.”
She bit her lip, twisting her fingers together. “I… am deeply sorry that you must continue fighting. I shall do my best to end this as quickly as possible.”
“You could end it now if you used Dominion.” Slaine felt a sudden fervent desire to kick Inaho on the leg.
“But you said– you said that wouldn’t work!”
“Yes. I am merely pointing out that you could do something if you chose.”
Slaine raised his eyes to the heavens. Did Inaho not hear himself?
Asseylum blinked at him, eyes full of surprise and hurt. “I don’t understand, Inaho.”
“I cannot tell you what to do. You must do, yourself, what you think is best.”
“Oh…” She smiled wanly. “Thank you, Inaho. I think I see.” Then, she turned– and met eyes with Slaine. Her smile flickered.
Slaine froze.
“Slaine,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
And then, she was gone.
“Kaizuka,” Hakkinien called, “accompany me. Your vampire can be trusted to return to its cage on its own?”
“Yes sir.”
He glanced back at Slaine as he left, expression unreadable. Slaine let his shoulders slump, and turned to head back to the camp.
“Oh, please do stay a moment. I’m sure the Protectorate can make an exception for me, if anyone.” Klancain’s smile was bright. It did not reach his eyes. “I would love to have a chance to speak to the one and only Troyard.”
Slaine came to a wary halt. “Yes?”
“Oh, nothing of great matter– I’m simply curious. For example: how did my father’s blood taste, when you stole Tharsis from our bloodline?”
Vampire nobles’ power play, then. Slaine braced himself. “I do not remember.”
“Ah, such a pity. It must be so fascinating to have two sets of Aldnoah gifts in you! One from the Princess herself. Such a strange idea, turning you rather than granting you mercy.”
“You know I do not possess Dominion.”
Klancain inspected his fingernails. “Of course not. Or else a mere human would never have beaten you. What a mess you are! A patchwork of blood and power, grafted onto a feeble human base– but yet you are so weak. You are no true vampire.” Klancain smiled down at him. “And you’re certainly not a human either. You are…” Klancain tilted his head, smile widening. “A dog. Kaizuka’s dog. Collared and tamed. Eating out of his hand.” Klancain paused and laughed lightly. “Literally, if those marks on his wrist tell true!” Klancain loomed forward. Slaine shrunk away instinctively. “Well, then, I hope you enjoy being the humans’ dog. For however long that may last. Who knows how many years it will be before they no longer have need of you. They’ll throw you away, then. Humans, they are so despicably hungry for more, yet they value nothing. It is always about more, for them. They will use you up, just as they use up the land, the water, the very places they live– and then, they shall abandon you.”
Slaine stared at Klancain, wordless.
Klancain’s smile was gone. “Kaizuka with his little machinations. How amusing. Do not delude yourself, however, into thinking he will save you when the time comes. No one wants a second-hand half-thing like you.” Slaine flinched. Klancain’s eyes sharpened. “Oh yes. Don’t think I don’t know about that bit, too. My father’s people are mine now, and I have heard everything they know.” He stepped in, crossing deep into Slaine’s space. “Everything.”
His hand came down on Slaine’s hip, and Slaine jolted. The hand dragged over the small of his back, and down. Slaine tried to pull away. Couldn’t move.
Klancain leaned in close, his hand sliding over the curve of Slaine’s ass. Slaine’s breath came short and fast in his throat. “Everything,” Klancain whispered into his ear, fingertips pressing rigid and cruel against his hole through the fabric of his pants.
Then–
Klancain stood back, completely unruffled. “Do not forget to be humble, dearest dog,” he beamed. “I do hope you realize that if you attempt to tell anyone about what happened in this room, there is no possible way they will believe you. Now, go sleep in your cage like an obedient pet.”
Mechanically, Slaine did as he was told.
•••
Slaine curled on his cot, shivering. His skin crawled, flashing hot and cold in turns. The unhealed wound from the battle before ached and burned, pain throbbing down his arm and across his back. He pressed his face into the thin blankets.
Boots, approaching the tent once more. Slaine forced open his tired eyes.
Inaho thudded in, feet noisy against the ground. Slaine did not look up as he heard the sounds of Inaho shedding his armor and formal wear.
“I do not trust Klancain,” Inaho said. Slaine swallowed the taste of bile, shivering again as another feverish wave swept over him, prickling cold sweat beneath his clothes.
The sounds of Inaho’s motions came to a stop. His steps approached Slaine.
“The blood on your back is fresh. Silver?”
Slaine closed his eyes and swallowed. Trying to conceal it would be useless. “Yes.”
“Did you try to treat this on your own?”
“Yes.”
“You are clearly unable to treat the wound yourself. I will do it. Take your shirt off.”
Slaine sucked in a breath. “No.”
Inaho’s hands paused over the medical kit. “You will not be able to treat it on your own,” he repeated.
“I can”– a wave of lightheadedness hit him, and for a second he lost the thread of his sentence– “handle it.”
Inaho’s hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him over. Inaho looked down at him, eye cold. “You are lying.”
“No, I can”–
Inaho cut him off. “You appear to be falling ill. If you persist in resisting, I will restrain you and treat your wounds regardless of your wishes. Going into battle weak endangers me directly.”
Slaine clenched his fists. He knew. He knew he couldn’t treat the injury without help. But Inaho would see–
He didn’t have a choice.
In one movement, he turned his back to Inaho and yanked off his ruined shirt.
He pressed his eyes closed as Inaho’s silence rang. Another shiver wracked his body.
Then, Inaho spoke.
“Sit down. Lean forward.”
Was Inaho really going to say nothing about the whip scars?
It seemed so, as Inaho proceeded with silent efficiency to clean the wound. Slaine clenched his teeth, but made no sound. He’d had far worse.
Inaho made the occasional disapproving sound. As he finished, he declared “Infected.” Throwing down the cloth, he pointed to Slaine’s cot. “Bed rest. Do not get up for any reason without my direct permission.”
With the trembling weakness beginning to rise in his limbs, Slaine saw no reason to object. He fell onto the cot and let the waves of dizziness wash him away.
•••
He was cold. So very cold. He ached. Every injury, old and new, made itself fully felt. His bones pressed into the cot, and he tossed and turned. Moving made his muscles burn, sent a pounding through his skull. He curled in on himself. He clutched weakly at the blankets, unable to curl his fingers around them to pull them up.
Foreign hands came down and drew the blanket over his shoulders, tucking it in around him. He slumped gratefully onto the thin little mattress. A cold cloth pressed over his forehead and he shuddered, but he didn’t try to shake it off. He trembled. Pain gnawed at his shoulder, heart thumping against his ribs as it strained to pump blood to his wound. Distantly, he felt the thirst, felt his fangs cutting against his lip, but it was all just beyond his reach.
Perhaps he would die here. A prideful vampire prince, surviving torture and impalement only to succumb to fever. He was not even falling into the inescapable depths of feralness. To die that way, blazing out in bloodthirst and violence– that would have been a true vampire’s death. Humans died of injury, of illness. How ironic that the human parts of him were what would, in the end, kill what was left of him.
•••
Inaho brushed the hair away from the vampire’s forehead. The vampire made a small, soft sound, turning towards the touch. Inaho withdrew his hand slowly.
Those scars, torn into the vampire’s back in a vivid patchwork of ruined red skin… they could not have been left by a normal implement. Not on a vampire’s skin.
But this vampire was not an ordinary one.
“My first friend, he was human, like you!”
“Was? Is he dead?”
Asseylum had gasped. “No! Though… it was a very close call. He was attacked, hurt, I didn’t know what to do or how to save him and there was so much blood… so I turned him.”
“You turned him? Vampires don’t turn humans.”
“Well, not anymore we don’t. But it was the only way I could think of to keep him from dying.” She had twisted her delicate fingers together, eyes distant. “I didn’t– couldn’t– give him a choice. There wasn’t enough time. But sometimes, I wish…” She had trailed off with a sigh. “He told me something that his father often told him– that we’re all the same in the end, anyway. I hope he was right.”
Back then, Inaho had nodded in thoughtless agreement. Now…
Slaine’s face was oddly vulnerable, soft with sleep even through the undercurrent of distress left by illness. In battle, he was a spectacle of ferocious beauty, gleaming fangs bared and teal eyes afire and lithe, elegant body poised to strike. Like this… the fury fell away. Was this softness what lay beneath? The fever left his already-pale skin nigh on white, and beaded with sweat. The fever that had not broken yet. Worse still, it showed no signs of abating.
A shiver shook its way through Slaine’s gaunt frame. Inaho re-tucked the blankets around Slaine’s body, frowning. He hadn’t noticed, before this. Before, Slaine had been wrapped in cloaks, covered in armor, concealed behind heavy layers. Now, the wasting in his body was starkly apparent. Though the visual evidence was unnecessary; no vampire should be weak enough to be susceptible to infection of all things.
Inaho had never felt the thirst for blood that vampires lived under. What little description Asseylum had been able to give him hardly helped him understand. But he knew enough to see that what Slaine had been doing to himself was a level of deprivation that approached madness.
Slaine stirred, twisting on the cot. His lashes fluttered.
“Vampire. Are you awake?”
Slaine groaned and curled into himself under the blankets. Another shiver worked through him as he went limp once more.
Inaho sighed.
There was only one solution left.
He rolled up his sleeve, exposing his wrist. Kneeling by Slaine’s side, he held out his arm awkwardly. He shut his eye as warm breath feathered on his skin. And…
There was no bite, no sinking of fangs into his flesh. His eye snapped open. Slaine had turned his face away. Refusing blood? Not conscious enough to respond?
Inaho would have to do this himself, then.
His eye tracked the candlelight flickering off the edge of the knife as he held it over the flame. He watched the slightly-too-fast rise and fall of Slaine’s chest as he waited for the blade to cool.
Readied, he knelt again by the cot. Some small part of him noted that Yuki would never let him out of her sight again if she were to find out about this. Carefully, he pressed the edge of his blade into his skin until a spot of blood bloomed.
He tilted Slaine’s face upwards and lowered his wrist to Slaine’s lips. Slaine scented the air… and turned away again.
“Troyard.” Inaho rolled Slaine’s head back into place.
Slaine’s mouth twisted, a small distressed sound emerging from his throat.
Inaho sighed. “…Slaine,” he tried, smearing a drop of blood on Slaine’s lips.
At last, Slaine’s tongue darted out to lick at it. That tongue slid across Inaho’s wrist, and he breathed out as a strange mix of relief and repulsion hit him.
He let Slaine lap at his cut until blood stopped running from him. Already Slaine’s fever was dropping– it should be sufficient.
He kept watch through the night, checking Slaine’s temperature with his hand. As dawn light began to fade through the sides of the tent, Slaine slept soundly, skin dry of sweat and cool.
Inaho would have to watch for this in the future. Vampiric healing was little help when the vampire in question was too drained to heal.
“Kaizuka! You awake in there?”
Inaho’s head snapped up. “Yes,” he answered, rising from his place beside Slaine’s cot.
“The Captain wants to see you!”
“On my way.” As he left, he spared a glance back at Slaine. It seemed as though, once again, there would be no rest for either of them.
•••
Slaine woke alone in the tent. Tentatively, he stretched his shoulder. It twinged, but the worst of the pain was gone. Had it closed?
It gradually dawned on him that his thirst had weakened. He brought his fingers to his mouth. He had been unconscious, unable to even move, much less attack. So what had…?
There was a knock at the tent pole. Slaine stared at the familiar silhouette. “What?”
“You told me to knock before.”
Slaine gave the tent flap a confused look. “Just… come in.”
As Inaho entered, Slaine caught sight of a bandage, peeking out at his wrist under the edge of his sleeve. Oh.
Inaho did not look at Slaine as he pulled out a bag and began packing it.
For a moment, Slaine simply watched. Then, a question rose in him, borne on all the hesitations, the flinches, the careful distances Inaho held between them. “Are you afraid of me?”
Inaho was silent. Slaine was strangely glad that he couldn’t see Inaho’s face in that moment. He didn’t want to know what he might find there.
Then, Inaho spoke. “What does my blood taste like?”
Slaine winced. “It is… savory. Rich. Coppery…”
Inaho was silent. He continued packing supplies, back turned to Slaine.
The minutes extended. Slaine slumped back to the pallet, letting his eyes fall shut.
“Are you rested?”
Slaine snapped back to attention. “I– yes.”
“Good. Start packing.” Inaho stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “We have a mission.”
IV.
Blue Rose
Several hours prior.
“Captain Magbaredge. You called for me?”
“That I did. I have a task for you. We have word of possible rebel activity up along the mountain trail, in the ruins of Ancient Vers. There is an old watchtower up there that is more or less intact. It would make an excellent nest for stubborn enough vermin. We need a small, swift, capable team that can travel light and report back quickly.”
“Me, then.”
“You, and your vampire.”
Inaho clenched his fist. “He isn’t mine.”
Magbaredge raised a brow. “Is that so? Whose is he then?”
“No one’s.”
“Kaizuka.” Her tone took on a warning note. “He belongs to the United Protectorate of Terra. He is a prisoner. Do not delude yourself with pretty ideas.”
Inaho held her gaze. Neither of them blinked.
Then, the Captain snorted and looked away. “You won’t oppose me openly, but neither will you actually obey. I can’t even say I am surprised. It’s as expected from Kaizuka junior.”
Inaho remained silent.
“Well, back to business. You can see the route you will take here, on this map. Take it with you when you go– the trail is not always easy to find. When you arrive at the tower, check it thoroughly to ensure that no rebels are using it as a base. It’s a big place, so it may take as much as a day to confirm that there are no signs of activity The nights up there will be cold. Prepare accordingly.”
Inaho had nodded, and gone to pack.
•••
Winter’s end clung with icy fingers to the earth as they set out. The earth swiftly grew stony beneath their feet as the days passed. The mountains loomed steadily higher on the horizon as they headed north, making their way across the remnants of battlefields and burned-out villages.
Slaine kept to himself at night, in the tent. The terrain grew steeper. The cold cut deeper. Slaine huddled gratefully into his bedroll at the end of each day, letting the slow accumulation of his body heat ease the exhaustion out of his muscles.
He noticed Inaho shivering, sometimes. An odd urge to press close, capture their shared heat, pushed him to roll over just once. It would be easy.
He didn’t.
They climbed ever higher. Hills became ridges, dips in the land became small valleys filled with little hamlets of plant and animal life.
“We must stay close to the river,” Inaho said one night, examining the map in the flickering light of the fire at the mouth of the tent. “The trail follows it for the majority of its course. And it is an indispensable source of game and fresh water.”
Slaine nodded in agreement. The firelight caught the planes of Inaho’s face, highlighting the steady line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his cheek, the determined set of his brows. Inaho’s eye almost glowed, like this. Garnet red, with flecks of bronze and coal.
Inaho glanced up and met his gaze. Slaine immediately looked away, overtaken by the feeling of being caught in the act. The act of what? He was only looking. Nothing wrong with that.
“Do you need blood?” Inaho asked.
“I…” They had not fought a single battle since setting out, successfully avoiding any parties they detected in their way. Even so, the relentless pace had taken its toll on him. Every evening, he felt more worn. Every morning, he woke less rested. He bit his lip, tongue pressing against the back of his fangs. “Yes.”
Inaho sat up. “Alright.” He began fumbling with the cuff of his heavy coat. Slaine watched, heart beating faster. Inaho managed to undo the fastening at the end, but it was too thick to roll up far enough to expose his skin. He muttered a curse, fingers going to the collar of his coat.
“Wait,” Slaine said, “You can’t take your coat off, it’s too”–
“Cold. I know.” Inaho’s movements were rough, voice tight. “I’m not taking it off.”
He undid the coat barely down his chest, and then pulled back the collar. The temptingly soft line of his neck was exposed, faint scars cutting meteor trails across it. So was the line of his shoulder and the top of his chest, collarbones highlighted by the firelight.
Slaine’s breath caught in his throat. “I can’t”–
“Do not bite my neck. It is not allowed. You may drink from any other point.”
Slaine bowed his head, pulse racing. He could hear the blood thrumming beneath that bared skin, drumming in his ears, a siren song calling him to sink his fangs into warm vulnerable flesh. He swallowed down a sudden excess of saliva. Careful not to make any sudden movements, he edged towards Inaho. His eyes skittered over the pale scar lines on Inaho’s throat. The tight confines of the tent forced him to settle next to Inaho’s legs. Inaho’s breath was fast and warm.
Without thinking, he placed a hand on Inaho’s shoulder to brace himself. Instantly, he pulled back. Inaho huffed. “Touch me if you must.”
Slaine eyed him warily. Inaho avoided his gaze, looking at the opposite wall of the tent. Slaine returned his palm to Inaho’s shoulder and his eyes to Inaho’s uncovered collarbones.
He drew his lips back and lowered his mouth over Inaho’s skin. His fangs pierced flesh, and blood rushed into his mouth. Inaho tensed.
What does my blood taste like?
The question echoed in Slaine’s head as Inaho shifted minutely, just enough to lean his head away from Slaine.
It settled heavy as a stone in his stomach, clashing bitterly with the warmth of blood on his lips.
A few battles side by side could not heal their wounds.
•••
Inaho nestled deeper into his bedding.
He was so… comfortable. Safe, warm, contented to just luxuriate in the drowsy fog of half-sleep. He breathed in, and out, slow and steady.
He felt so well-rested and relaxed. Why didn’t he sleep like this every night? With a heavy blanket over him, a comforting arm wrapped around his waist, hot damp breath ghosting against the back of his neck–
Inaho went very, very still.
There were a vampire’s fangs less than a hand’s breadth from his throat.
With a sudden jolt that hit every muscle fiber in his body simultaneously, he tore himself away. He scrambled back, clutching at his neck. He breathed in–
tried to breathe–
couldn’t get enough air into his lungs–
Calm yourself. Stay in the present moment. He forced his hand away from his throat. Counted down from one hundred, one breath each number.
100
In.
99
Out.
98
In.
97
Out…
And on, and on, until his heart no longer tried to beat its way out of his chest.
He stared down at Slaine, who had barely stirred. Slaine’s arm was still draped over the spot where Inaho had lain. Had slept, more deeply and restfully than he had for months. Maybe even years. Nestled back-to-front against the greatest enemy he had ever fought.
Did he really trust Slaine that much? To not only sleep in Slaine’s presence, but to allow Slaine– a vampire– within easy striking distance while he was at his most vulnerable?
Inaho pressed his hand over the faint, dulled points of pain under his collarbone and breathed, in and out. Slow. Steady.
The bite mark ached beneath his fingers.
•••
The deeper they penetrated, the higher the ruins of ancient Vers rose around them, clinging to the steep sides of the mountains. The trail became more difficult to follow, the path frequently blocked– rock falls, collapsed temples, places where the trail had crumbled away completely.
“We have to find a way around…” Inaho murmured, staring at the crumbling ledge that was all that remained of the way forward.
“Not hard to guess what did it,” Slaine said, tone wry. Inaho turned to see him pointing up. Looming above them, at the top of a rise that was half jagged rock and half ornamental carving, was a line of great stone pillars. The entire corner was missing, from the foundation to the pillar that had stood on it.
Inaho stared up at it. “That building. There has to be a way out of it.”
“So you mean– climb?”
Their eyes met. They shared a nod.
“I can get us back on trail from the stars once we get out,” Slaine said confidently.
Slaine’s cloak flared behind him in the wind as he faced the cliff, great dark wings against the moonlit rock. Pale hair whipping around his head, eyes gleaming like polished stones, he looked as a creature sculpted of light and shadow rather than flesh and blood.
Slaine looked back at him, blue moonlight and white gold and gleaming silver. “Ready?”
Inaho shook himself. “Let’s go.”
Their ascent was slow, by necessity. Between the wind tugging them away from the cliff face, the ancient stonework threatening to crumble beneath their weight, and the chill slowing reflexes and stiffening muscles, a single mistake could mean a fall onto the unforgiving mountain beneath.
Slaine trailed behind him. Inaho suspected Slaine could have made this climb much faster on his own– the vampire’s combination of lighter weight and greater strength were both advantages here. Yet, Inaho let it pass.
If he were to fall, Slaine would have a better chance of catching him than he would Slaine.
Inaho hauled himself up over the ledge, gloved fingers digging into the weathered carvings. He turned back and offered a hand up to Slaine, pulling him the last stretch up over the lip. Panting, he got to his feet and scanned the place they had climbed to.
Crumbling columns lined the edge of the broad stone platform on which they stood. Chunks of worn stone littered the ground, and moss and scrub grew in the cracks. Looking closer, there was some kind of carving beneath their feet as well, mostly covered by the debris.
His breath clouded white in front of him, and a chill gust whistled through the columns. He shivered, drawing his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
“We should stop here tonight,” Slaine said. “The temperature is dropping. There might be a storm. We’ll need shelter.”
Inaho nodded, once, and headed towards the mouth of the building. The hall led into the mountainside, a yawning dark opening littered with the stones of the collapsed roof. He stepped on top of one of the pieces, eyed the cracked pavement, and jumped down. Behind him, Slaine vaulted smoothly over the obstacle.
Inaho turned away. A torch from Inaho’s pack and quick strike of a flint gave them a light to guide their way into the ruins. The tunnel into the mountainside was their only way forward.
Their footsteps echoed oddly inside. The walls were stone brick, some places covered in elaborate carvings. In many places, the signs of water wearing through the stone could be seen in little rivulets that trickled ceaselessly down the smooth surface.
Slaine’s voice rose, incongruous in the silence. “People lived here… people who would later become us. Isn’t that strange to think about?”
Inaho held the torch up higher, straining to cut further into the darkness. “I do not see how they could stand to live somewhere so cold.”
Slaine let out a little laugh at that, bright and genuine. It warmed Inaho far more thoroughly than the paltry flame of the torch.
They continued on, surroundings unchanged but for the different abstract patterns on the walls. Until–
Inaho stepped forwards, and the walls fell away. Torchlight, weak but just enough, illuminated a high, vaulted ceiling. The room was rounded, walls forming a cylinder that could have fit an entire troop.
“Inaho… look at this,” Slaine breathed.
Inaho followed his voice, and saw– the mural.
Stretching up to their left, taller than the both of them combined, rose a massive relief. Hundreds of carved human figures, all with their arms raised towards a round disk, its rays shooting outwards.
“The Great Aldnoah…” Slaine said, voice hushed, as though speaking too loudly may wake something better left undisturbed.
“It’s only a legend.” Inaho shifted his grip on the torch, eye scanning the room.
“Aldnoah had to come from somewhere, didn’t it? Or else… there would be no vampires. No war. No us.”
“But stories are just stories. Humans like to exaggerate…” Inaho trailed off, looking at Slaine.
“Vampires, too?” Slaine snorted.
“I”– Inaho stopped. “We need to find a place to sleep.”
Slaine did not point out the abrupt deviation. Instead, he looked over his shoulder, at the tunnel across from the mural. “Wait… Inaho. I think I see… light!”
“That way?”
“Yes!”
They followed it, and found–
A garden.
Or at least, it had been one once. The room was open to the sky, and moonlight splashed down the sides and scattered across the paved paths and waving grasses.
Moss grew thickly along the floor, lining the cracks in the stones. Weeds sprouted from every available patch of earth, creating mounds of green among the ancient stone paths and collapsed archways. A few scrub bushes straggled across the beds, clinging stubbornly to the dirt.
Open air it may be, but dirt was a softer ground for the tent than stone. Inaho set up the tent, while Slaine tore enough branches off the tough scrub for a small fire. As sparks rose, little pinpricks of light glowing golden orange against the darkness, Inaho held his hands over the small blaze and let out a sigh.
“Cold?” Slaine asked, sitting across from him.
“It is never warm up here,” Inaho replied, turning to let the heat seep into his back. Then, his eye caught on something pale in the brush, lit by the soft moonbeams–
He stepped forwards, inspecting it. It was… a flower.
“Strange…” he murmured.
“Inaho? What is it?”
“Something is blooming. But it is too early for flowers.”
“Oh?” Slaine’s voice slid from worry to interest. He appeared at Inaho’s shoulder, and stepped past him to reach out for the plant. Its blossoms were of middling size, five petals around a center clump of sepals. Its leaves were long and rounded, gleaming thorns sticking up in warning along their edges.
“Winter is barely over. No plant should be blooming now.” Inaho frowned. “Does this have something to do with Aldnoah?”
Slaine laughed that warming little laugh again as he knelt by the plant, carefully avoiding the thorns. “There is nothing unnatural at work here.” He cupped the white petals softly in his hands. “It’s called a winter rose. It isn’t actually a rose at all– it’s another kind of flower entirely. That is why it blooms so early in the season, like it is now. But they look enough alike. This one must be tough, to have survived here so long on its own, without proper care…”
“And strong,” Inaho added, “to bloom so beautifully even under such harsh conditions.”
Slaine’s shoulders hitched as he gave a small gasp. He glanced up at Inaho. Their gazes held. Slaine’s face was flushed with cold, his breath clouding in front of him. Strange… the fire crackled well behind them, but Inaho’s face felt warm all the same.
“I– we”– Slaine stammered– “we should– get some rest.” He looked away, leaping to his feet and whisking back to the fire. Inaho stared after him.
The fire and his bedroll were tempting. But for reasons he could not divine, he lingered before the little rosebush. Gently, he reached out for one of the elegant white flowers. The petals were soft against his skin, delicate veins just barely visible beneath their surface. He could feel the resistance in the stem as he held it. Fragile, but resilient.
“You know a lot about plants,” Inaho said as he returned to the tent. “Who taught you?”
Slaine was silent for a moment. Then, he spoke. “No one taught me.”
“So… you learned on your own?”
“Not really. I read books.”
Inaho rested his chin on his hands. “That is still learning without instruction. It’s impressive.”
“It’s not anything much. There were just… a lot of books in the royal library. It kept me out of the way, kept the vampires’ attention off of me, so I…” Slaine shifted, pulling his legs up to his chest. “So I stayed there.”
Inaho blinked. That was… more of Slaine’s history than he had expected. “Is that how you learned to navigate from the stars?”
“I– yes,” Slaine muttered, sinking into his blankets.
“Were you born in Vers?”
Slaine shot upright. “What? As a– as a blood slave?”
“Yes.”
“No, I wasn’t. My father brought me there.”
“Your father? Your mother”– Inaho’s fist tightened on his bedroll. “Vampires?”
“No.” For a long moment, Slaine was silent, and Inaho thought he would not continue. But then– “My mother wasn’t killed by vampires. She… died birthing me. My father lost himself in his studies, after that. Sometimes I wonder if… if my father would rather have had her than me. Would he have gone to Vers if she were alive? Would he have lived longer, been happier?”
Inaho struggled in helpless silence. Before he could say anything, Slaine made a small hiccupping sound and spoke again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I’ll go to sleep.”
More questions rose to Inaho’s lips, pressing at him. Why did Slaine doubt himself so? What else had Slaine learned, with such amazing dedication? When had Slaine come to Vers? Why?
But the tense line of Slaine’s back kept him quiet. Slaine had likely exposed more of himself than he meant to. Even Inaho could tell that speaking of it hurt him. But…
They both needed rest, regardless. Now was not the time.
Perhaps it would never be the time.
•••
Slaine could not look Inaho in the eye that morning. They did not speak as they set off. Inaho lit the torch once more, and they left the circle of waxing daylight that was the abandoned garden.
In the silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing up and down the tunnel made it seem as though they were followed by a horde, hanging just out of sight. Slaine could not keep himself from glancing around, keeping a needless watch. The Tharsis running in his veins buzzed and scratched at him, filling him with a vague but inescapable sense of foreboding.
Time passed strangely here, far below the ground and away from the light of day. At one point, Inaho called for a stop and rested briefly against the bricks, canteen held loosely in his hand. Slaine paced, unease crawling up his spine.
When they emerged, the sun was high in the sky. The trail branched in front of them, signs of ancient walls and roads visible everywhere under the brush. Inaho surveyed their surroundings, his lone eye empty and distant, and consulted the map. He pointed to the trail furthest to the right. And so they carried on.
Slaine had felt this… warning as early as the night before. Then, he had put it down as perhaps heralding an incoming storm. But the sky had remained clear. The feeling had only grown worse.
He stayed on alert as the sun sank in the sky to their right. The trail wound ever northward, ever upwards. Their goal, from the glimpse he had had of the map, was getting close. Only half a day’s hard travelling after they rested tonight.
That night, in the ruined garden… he had said too much. Far too much. He could not take it back. Kaizuka knew, now. Something he had never admitted to anyone. Not Harklight, not Lemrina, not even to the Princess– Queen. But now, to the man who hated him perhaps more than anyone else.
Not that Inaho let it show often, anymore. He was a better man than Slaine was. Tolerant to the point of seeming kind. Clever, quick thinking, skilled and steady both in battle and out of it. Lacking the strength and speed of a vampire, but making up for it through pure unrelenting effort.
Ironic, then, how his human peers treated him like an outcast. A freak. A mutt…
Slaine swallowed.
After sundown, the temperature dropped swiftly.
“We should stop. We’ll need to push hard to reach the old watchtower tomorrow.”
Slaine nodded his agreement, feeling from Inaho’s eyes on him that Inaho caught the gesture. Slaine paced a swift loop around the perimeter of the stone shelf they had paused on.
“What’s wrong? Do you sense something?”
“I…” Slaine took a deep breath. “It is nothing specific. I just… feel something coming.”
“If it is not upon us yet, we should be safe for the night.”
Slaine sighed. “You don’t have to comfort me, Inaho.”
Inaho stared up at him from the bedroll. “It was merely practical advice.”
“I… I know.”
It was quiet but for the distant whistle of the wind. Inaho drew his blanket tighter around his shoulders. Then, he spoke.
“You told me much, last night. An exchange is fair.”
“An exchange? What are you talking about?”
“You shared your history. It is time I shared mine.” Inaho looked off over the edge of the shelf. “You asked, months ago. About my… about the scars on my neck. I’m going to tell you.”
Slaine’s breath caught. “You don’t– you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Inaho said firmly. “You should sit down, so that you are more comfortable.” He patted the spot beside him on his bedroll, holding out a blanket-draped arm.
Slaine hovered, uncertain. Inaho simply watched him, brows raised expectantly. Then, Slaine closed his eyes, swallowed, and gave in. He settled next to Inaho, enough space between them for another person to have fit.
Inaho did not attempt to close the distance. Instead, he turned to look forward.
Slaine didn’t blame him. The vista below them was absolutely breathtaking. All the mountain slopes they had climbed, falling away covered in snow and gleaming like polished porcelain in the moonlight. It was laid out like a painting, composed from little dark brushstrokes of sheer cliff sides and trees. The river whispered faintly below them, winding away down the vista in a line of silver embroidered across the snow.
At last, Inaho spoke.
“My family lived in a town not far from the border. That’s what Yuki told me. Fifteen years ago… you know what happened. The Fall.”
Slaine shivered.
“I was three. I don’t remember it, not really. But vampires attacked our farm. Killed our parents. Yuki escaped, and found one of them attacking me. It had…” He trailed off, bringing a hand up to press against the scarred skin of his throat. “It had torn my throat open. Yuki killed the vampire with a hoe, but she thought… she thought I was dead.” His voice went quiet. “I should have been. There is no way for a child so young to survive that. But I did.”
“The bond,” Slaine breathed.
Inaho stiffened, but did not look at him. “No. I did not– enter a bond with Aldnoah.”
“But you have it within you all the same.”
“Yes.”
“So, your neck… that’s where…”
“Yes.”
“And so that is why you are… different.”
“… Yes.”
Slaine’s eyes fell to the grit between his boots. “That must have been terrible.”
“I don’t remember my parents enough to miss them, so not really,” Inaho said without inflection.
Slaine snuck a glance at him. “That’s not what I… I’m sorry about your parents, but I meant… growing up like that. Being…”
“Half of a vampire?”
Slaine felt the whip crack of tension snap through him. “I didn’t mean”–
“It’s fine. I don’t mind it when you say it.”
Slaine’s words had always been his first weapon, either to defend himself or to attack. But now, he could find none.
Inaho’s voice rose in the silence. “When I first met Seylum, I didn’t see that she was a vampire. I couldn’t tell. But when she realized there was something distorted about me, that I wasn’t like other humans… she didn’t treat me any differently. All that mattered to her was that I was who I was. Talking to her… it felt like the world really could become a better place. I knew peace was impossible. But she let me forget logic and evidence. Forget that there is something wrong in me. She was hope, and I wanted her.” He stopped and huffed, rubbing his face with his palms. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m trying to say with this.”
Slaine’s hand twitched, aching to reach for Inaho’s. He pressed it against his own leg instead.
“Princess Asseylum saved my life,” Slaine said softly. “After my father died, I was… prey, at best. A target, at worst. One of them got ahold of me…” He shuddered, eyes dulling. It made something twist painfully in Inaho’s chest. “The princess stopped him in time to save me, but to do it… she had to turn me.”
“So Seylum was the vampire that turned you?” The story she’d told him was true, then.
“I just said it, didn’t I?” Then, Slaine sighed. “Sorry. It is a strange idea, isn’t it. That any vampire would turn a human, much less the Princess herself.”
I would likely not have believed it if she had not told me before. “And the vampires did not treat you well. Even after you became one of them.” Inaho did not ask it as a question. Slaine’s actions answered him clearly.
Slaine’s eyes fell shut. “I wasn’t born one of them. They… never let me ignore that.” He took a deep breath. “Except her. I thought– here was someone who didn’t care if I was a human or a vampire. Someone who would be kind to me, regardless of what I was. It almost made me forget, sometimes. I almost believed it didn’t matter, when I was around her.” He laughed, a short, sad, bitter sound. “She accepted me. She was my friend. She told me I was kind, intelligent, a good person. How could I not love her, for that? I even dared to hope that… that someday, she might love me back.” His voice grew soft. “What was I thinking. She was wrong about me. All that time, she was wrong. She never saw the monster waiting beneath the surface.”
“You’re not.”
Slaine’s head snapped around, expression incredulous. “Not what?”
“Not a monster.”
Slaine’s eyes widened. Then, he threw his head back with a low, strained sound that might have been a laugh. “Really? What proof do you have of that?” His voice sank to a hiss. “I drink your blood. I murder, betray, maim without flinching. How can you say that I am not a monster?”
“Doing what you must to survive does not make you a monster.”
“You have the audacity to say that?” Slaine leaned closer to him, eyes wide and blue and terrible. “You are a vampire. You are my enemy. Ring any bells?”
Inaho blinked. “I”–
“I never forgot. You knew what I was then. You know it now. So go on. Tell me the truth. We both know it!” He lunged suddenly, an incoherent cry tearing from his lips. Inaho was caught off guard, pinned to the ground. “You know what I am! Say it!”
Inaho stared up into Slaine’s wild eyes, saw the way his bared fangs caught the light and gleamed…
A drop fell on his face.
“Say it!” Slaine screamed, voice raw. His fingers dug into Inaho’s shoulders. His grip was iron-hard. “You know what I am– say it! I know you think it all the time! Say it already!”
Another drop landed on Inaho’s cheek. He reached up, around Slaine’s arm, and brushed his thumb across the corner of Slaine’s eye. It was wet. Slaine started. “You never got an answer,” he said softly, cupping Slaine’s cheek in his palm, “when you asked me if I was afraid of you. Do you want to know the answer?”
Slaine didn’t speak. His chest heaved with fast, deep breaths. His gaze was locked on Inaho’s, lost and frantic and so, so blue.
“I’m not,” Inaho said. “I am not afraid of you.”
Slaine’s breathing hitched. “Why?” His voice was weak, strained.
“I have come to know you. Your mind, your heart, your body. I know now what I did not understand, before. ‘Vampire’ is just a word. It describes you. It does not define you. Can you understand, then, why I say that you are not a monster?”
Slaine made a small, wounded sound. “That’s not… you know… I…”
“I don’t care. The past is the past. The future is what concerns me.”
“Do you want me to simply forget everything I have done?”
“No.” Inaho paused, and took a heavy breath. “I want our wounds to heal.”
Slaine stared down at him, and Inaho wiped another tear away before it could fall. Their faces were very close. Above him, those eyes felt like a small sky, just big enough to lose himself in.
The moon was bright as their lips met.
Inaho’s hands slid up into Slaine’s hair, weaving through the silken strands. Slaine’s fingers tightened on his shoulders– this time gripping not with violence but with desperate, clinging tension. Slaine let out little sweet gasps against Inaho’s mouth. Inaho hummed and ran a hand down Slaine’s neck and down his spine.
Somehow, without him noticing, they had shifted upright. Slaine was a warm weight in his lap. Their heated breath mingled as they parted for a moment. Then, Slaine closed the distance once more. Inaho wrapped his arms around Slaine’s waist, pulling him close. Slaine’s hands came up to cup Inaho’s face, fingers delicately tracing the string of his eye patch. A long, low sound of pleasure rumbled in Inaho’s throat. Then–
Slaine pushed himself away. Cold mountain air rushed in to fill the space where he had been. Inaho blinked. “Slaine?”
Slaine, kneeling on the end of the bedroll, averted his eyes. “What are we doing, Orange?”
“Why do you need to ask?”
“Because you aren’t.”
“We are kissing. Simple.”
Suddenly, Slaine’s furious gaze was on him once more. “It isn’t simple! Don’t you understand? We are, we have been, we always will be, at odds! We can never”–
“I don’t believe that. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
Slaine yanked down the neck of his shirt and hooked a finger under the silver collar that gleamed there. “It doesn’t? Then what does this mean?”
“It is an unnecessary inconvenience.”
“What it means,” Slaine hissed, “is that I am different from you. We can never be the same. We can’t have”– for a second, his expression flickered with pain.
Inaho’s hand wrapped softly around Slaine’s, drawing it away from the burning silver. “If you want it off, we can remove it. The hinges are easily broken.”
“That’s not the point. This collar will always be there, even if you take it off, even if it corrodes away to dust– I will never be free of it. There is no place for me in this world.” Slaine knocked Inaho’s hand away and stood, cloak snapping behind him. “We should do what we came here for. Let’s move.”
Inaho stared up at him. “The collar is only a physical object”–
“Don’t,” Slaine hissed, “talk to me.” He threw his bag onto his shoulder and turned his back. “Catch up. If you can.” With that, he was gone.
Inaho gathered what little had been unpacked as swiftly as he could. Slaine’s behavior was strange, confrontational– as it had been more than a year ago, in prison. What lay beneath this reversion? However, that question could wait. Slaine should not be left alone in this state, Inaho knew that now. He had to close the distance.
•••
Slaine’s breath came hard and fast as he darted across the mountainscape. The collar burned heavy and tight around his throat, a noose made of metal and pain.
He knew he should slow down. Stop and wait. Turn around and go back to Inaho.
He kept running.
They had kissed–
No.
He would not think on that. He would not repeat, over and over in his mind, the poisoned syrupy words that had dripped from Inaho’s lips. Inaho’s soft, warm, gentle lips, as warm as blood but even sweeter… Inaho’s fingers combing sweetly through his hair… Inaho’s strong, steady arms holding him close…
No! Don’t think of it, don’t think of him–
Beneath his foot, a stone turned. He tumbled down the rest of the slope in a cascade of gravel-sharp stone. A boulder finally stopped his fall, knocking the breath out of him. Shakily, he got to his knees. His palm stung. Looking at it, he saw a deep, fresh scrape, smeared blood dark against his skin. As he watched, it faded away.
“Why am I like this?” Slaine whispered. He pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes until blurry splotches of color blazed inside his eyelids. His throat was too tight to breathe, it just came out in ragged gasps that hurt with each one his heaving lungs drew–
He staggered back to his feet, teeth gritted so tightly they creaked. Pathetic. Dashing the tears from his eyes, he pressed onwards. The path was simple, easy to follow, no need for a map at this point. Lucky. He’d have been bound to Inaho and that map if there were no clear trail.
A dry, half-choked laugh cracked through his lips. What he was doing– running, on wild reckless impulse, away– was grounds for execution on sight if a Protector found him. But Inaho would never speak of this to anyone. Inaho likely cared less about this breach of their agreement than he did about being forced to miss sleep.
What a perfect little hell.
Crack. A pebble hitting a larger stone. Slaine whipped around to face the noise. The foreboding mounted, suddenly, rising to a scream–
He blocked the blow from behind with his arm, feeling it rattle through his frame. There was another one in front of him, and behind, and at either side. Surrounded. So fast, so silent, fangs gleaming in the moonlight as they leered–
Vampires.
Slaine felt the absence of a weapon at his hip acutely. He turned in a slow circle, attempting to keep his eyes on as many of the attackers as possible. A wall of hungry grins met him.
“All alone– not quite what milord said, but makes it easier for us doesn’t it?” one of them tittered. Jeers of agreement rose from the circle. Slaine lowered his stance, planting his feet.
One lunged for his arm. He sent them flying into their comrade across the circle. Another made a pass at him from behind, dagger drawn. He ducked low, delivering a hard one-two punch to the stomach that knocked them back.
“The mutt is fighting back!” one of them exclaimed with great excitement.
“It even has a pretty little collar! What an obedient dog!”
Slaine gritted his teeth. He deflected attack after attack, even picking up a short sword in the process, but–
They were toying with him. He knew it. Even the ones he had already taken out were merely waiting in the wings, cheering eagerly along with the crowd as their wounds healed. In a serious attack, they would come at him all at once and tear him apart in seconds.
He could only wait until they decided they had had their fun. Setting his jaw grimly, he kept on blocking and nipping away at them. Their laughter echoed around the mountainsides, so many crows cawing and screeching.
Then–
“Enough! We need to get back to milord, and find the other one.”
The circle contracted on him. He struck out, feeling blade meet bone, landing a vicious kick in one soft midriff and slamming his elbow into another leering vampire’s face.
A hand closed like a steel vise on his arm, twisting until he cried out and dropped his weapon. The punch he threw with his free arm was caught, and his arms bent behind his back. A wild kick caught one in the knee, before they forced him to the ground. One’s hand closed around his throat from behind, squeezing just tight enough to cut into his air supply.
Pinned, helpless, he finally closed his eyes and went limp in the vampires’ grip.
Of course he wasn’t free. He had never been. He never would be.
“Got this one. Back to base!”
•••
Inaho slid haphazardly down the stony slope. He found no signs of Slaine even after scanning the scattered gravel at the bottom for signs. He swore under his breath. It was not often that he wished for more vampiric traits, but at this moment a vampire’s enhanced senses would have been very useful.
The moon was sinking in the sky, sketching long black shadows over the jagged rock faces. Inaho picked his way over the landscape as swiftly as he was able to without risking a fall. Who knew how much of a lead Slaine had gotten on him. Emotional instability aside, it was dangerous to travel alone in these mountains. Slaine would be more likely to survive a fall than he was, but human or vampire, a broken neck was a broken neck.
As he went onwards, the winds rose. Clouds were beginning to spread across the sky, teasing over the lowered moon.
He turned his eye to the rocks that rose around the trail. Stone, sky, wind… nothing unusual. His steps slowed, then stopped. His hand went to his dagger. Around him, the shadows rose and took form.
Vampires. At least a dozen of them. Fangs bared hungrily.
“And here’s the dog’s owner!” trilled one. “Both in one night! Milord will be pleased.”
Inaho scanned the crowd. He noted the mention of someone who could only be Slaine. Calculated his odds.
And put down his weapon.
•••
The journey through the dark and cold was rough, slung over the shoulder of a careless vampire who seemed to enjoy jostling him.
Their progress was swift, however. By the time dawn tinged the skyline blue the old outpost loomed above them. It did not appear abandoned– on the contrary, it was in excellent repair for something that had been abandoned for hundreds of years. Inaho stayed quiet, observing.
The gates opened before them. Vampires, dozens of them, cheering from the ledges and balconies and windows. Inaho felt his heart thump against his ribs.
He was carried through the wild throng and down, down. Eventually, his captors stopped. In front of them lay a metal hatch, which they opened with casual ease. They threw him into the pit beneath carelessly. Only his instinct to curl into a defensive ball saved him a broken ankle or wrist. Instead, he rolled against the far side and fell back, into the heavy layers of dust and filth at the bottom. Laughter echoed above him as the lid was hauled back into place.
“Enjoy your stay, O Azrael!”
Darkness closed over him. Slowly, he raised his hand before his face– and saw nothing. He took a deep breath. Handbreadth by handbreadth he worked his way to the side, fingertips catching on cracks and bumps in the ground. At the wall, the crumbly roughness continued. The sides of the pit weren’t smooth at all. Climbable?
He ran his hands over the surface until he found a crevasse large enough to curl his fingers into. Cautiously, he put weight on it. Small fragments gave way, but it held. He placed a foot in another solid gap, and lifted himself off the ground.
Making headway up the wall in the dark was a… unique challenge. Unable to see hand or footholds, he had to instead feel carefully for them, hanging from the wall by one hand or one foot as he searched.
His hand hit something, above him. He went very still. By touch, it wasn’t the same material as the wall– the cover, then? He pushed up.
It didn’t give.
He pushed harder.
Nothing.
He threw himself into it, thrusting upwards–
One of his footholds disintegrated, sending his leg dangling uselessly over empty air. He scrabbled wildly at the wall, fingers clawing for a hold–
It slipped away. His grasping hands closed on air as he fell back.
The fall was shorter than it had been even when they threw him in here. He still hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind from him and jar every bone in his body. He gasped for breath, inhaling a lungful of grit and dirt. Coughing, he gagged on the bitter filth, spitting to clear the foul taste from his tongue.
So. Escape was unlikely. Obviously, Slaine was not here. Whatever the vampires wanted with him, it required him alive– he was being kept for something. Otherwise, he would have been dead back on the trail.
Now, it was waiting game.
•••
The chains that held his arms up clinked as Slaine tested them. They did not give. He swallowed and leaned his head back against the wall.
They hadn’t killed him. Of course not. They wouldn’t want it to end quickly.
He knew this room. Not this specific room, with its worn stones and low, flickering torchlight. But he recognized what it was. The rack of pegs on the wall over a long table. The manacles that suspended him like this, just barely able to put his weight on the ground. The drain in the middle of the floor.
If they wanted something from him, he’d make them fight for it.
At last, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Slaine bared his fangs in a snarl.
“Troyard. Not enjoying my hospitality?”
“Klancain,” Slaine hissed.
Klancain smiled. “Is that all you have to say? Are you certain you don’t want to make some grandiose speech?”
“What could I say that you would listen to? I know what you’re here for.” Slaine jerked his head. “Get on with it. Fair warning, though– you won’t get anything from me.”
Klancain’s smile widened. “Oh dear. You appear to think that you– you!– would somehow have access to information that I, the Prince of Vers, do not. How ignorant you truly are! Are you so naive as to think that it was mere coincidence that the Protectorate gave you a mission that led you right into my hands?” Slaine’s eyes widened with realization. Klancain laughed. “No, no, I want nothing from the mutt who stole my father’s blood. However…” he stepped forwards. “I am a reasonably patient man. Alas, the time that I have for the little show I wish to put on is… limited.” His ice-shard eyes gleamed in the firelight. “Let’s not fall behind schedule.”
From behind him, several vampires emerged. The implements they carried gleamed menacingly in the darkness. Slaine’s eyes widened. Instinctually, he jerked at the chains, setting off a jarring clatter of metal-on-metal.
A lackey appeared in front of him, gleeful grin drawn sharply upon her face, knife ready in her hand. He flinched away, back hitting the cold stone behind him. She moved, too fast to see anything but a blur– and his clothing hung off him in shreds.
“You know the routine, I believe,” Klancain said brightly. “Only– they won’t be pausing to ask any questions. Oh, and please do struggle– it will weaken you faster!”
Klancain’s laughter echoed around the tiny room as the torturers closed in.
•••
At first, he felt each cut, hooks and knives and spikes driving into his flesh, draining away a little more of his life each strike. But then… it began to blur. Was it the fifth time that knife had pierced his side? The fiftieth? Was that crunching the sound of his bones warping back into place, or the flail striking them?
“hurts…” he wheezed.
A hand twisted painfully in his hair, yanking his head upright. “Oh yes, it hurts does it?” Slaine’s eyes refused to focus. All he could see was a fanged, leering grin, gleaming white. “You’ll see how bad we can make it hurt by the time we’re through with you!” The torturer slammed his head back against the wall, cracking his skull painfully against the brick. The world pitched sideways, and then went black.
The next thing he was aware of was excruciating, obliterating pain. Screams tore from his throat like rats struggling to claw their way out. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, clogging his throat. He writhed, body jerking and contorting, as the white-hot star of agony burned in his gut. Laughter rang in his ears, undercut by the sizzling of his own flesh as the burning brand twisted in his belly.
The thick, grisly sound of it pulling out of him made his head swim. He breathed high and fast, clinging to his consciousness as he felt his insides knitting back together. His throat burned, veins crying for replenishing. The chains rattled as he shook.
The blur swallowed him again. Thirst slowly took a hold of him, thoughts twisting, muscles twitching.
This is it, he thought in a rare moment of clarity as one of his tormentors turned a silver blade over in her hands. I’m going to go feral, and be put down like a mad dog for their amusement.
“Lift his legs.” The torturer’s voice filtered down to him, as though through water. “I’ve got some slices I want to cut.” He felt hands on his thighs, lifting them off the ground, spreading them. Maybe he whimpered a protest. Maybe he didn’t. All he could feel was the icy blade slicing through his skin, once, twice, cutting deep into the artery. Blood ran hot down his legs. He opened his mouth, panting, fangs pricking his tongue.
Deep inside him, the thirst broke free. He closed his eyes and surrendered.
•••
Inaho alternated between pacing a circle around the pit and leaning against the side. Down there in the darkness, time was something only tracked by the beat of his heart. Food– some kind of dry, hard biscuit– was thrown down at intervals, and even the dim light coming through the opened hatch was enough to hurt his eye.
Had he been here for hours? Days? Weeks?
He had no way to tell. Even the food did not seem to come regularly. Just whenever it occurred to them to feed him.
There was no hole or grate to relieve himself in. Whenever sleep overcame him, he could only check the ground blindly with his hands, hoping it was clean.
But then, at last– a sound from above, in the darkness. Inaho started up from his curl in the least filthy part of the pit. The lid scraped open, and he shut his eye against the light coming through. He pressed himself against the wall as something fell through the hole, followed by something much larger. Hands grabbed him roughly. He kicked out blindly, only to be slammed against the wall and then slung, dazed, over a shoulder.
As he was carried up and up, he dared crack open his eye. With the dim light less blinding now, he could just barely see the stones and halls as they passed by. Sound rose above through the levels of the fortress, a dull roar that shook through the stones.
That roar became louder and louder– until they stopped before a door. The door swung open, and–
It was an arena. Even squinting against the bright light of day, Inaho could see that. Stands rising in a massive oval from the dirt floor beneath, filled with cheering spectators. Hundreds of vampires. Inaho quickly assessed the distances between the terraces, the height of the lip– and felt his heart sink in his chest. There was no easy escape here, not for him and his enhanced-but-still-human limbs. The door thundered shut behind him.
His captors carried him across the arena and threw him down, chittering with excitement as they leapt up into the stands. He struggled upright, holding a dirty sleeve in front of his face to protect his eye from the dust.
Suddenly, the crowd hushed. Inaho looked up.
There. On the balcony. The railing wasn’t made of stone, as the rest of the place was. It looked like metal. New, freshly installed metal. Up behind it walked– Klancain.
“Welcome one and all, the truest people of Vers!” he called. “Today, I have gathered you all here together for a truly special moment. At the terrible, tragic end of the war more than a year ago, we were forced into submission by our own Queen”– the throng broke out into harsh jeers and indistinct but fury-filled shouts. Klancain waved them down. “We were,” he continued, “forced to submit to those weaker than us. Those we should rightfully rule over with our Aldnoah-given powers. Those who should be grateful that we deign to sustain our lives off of their paltry substance!” The crowd screamed, a wall of sound pushing through the air and crushing Inaho beneath its weight. “Before us, we have the prime example of their arrogance and hubris, the one who did not merely defy our power but flaunted that defiance in the face of our superiority– the so-called Azrael, angel of death!”
The earth shuddered with the stamping and booing of the crowd. Inaho went still. He was… a show. But how?
“On this day, you will see the truest of justice served to this, the most vain of humans. Its own dog shall tear it apart!” The crowd gasped.
Inaho’s eye widened. No.
“An unnatural mutt, a mockery of what a true vampire is, overtaken by animal hunger and brutish instinct.” Klancain flourished a hand. “This abomination even warmed the bed of its human captor. Miscegenation upon miscegenation! A race traitor and a disgrace to us, the true inheritors of Aldnoah. Now, oh Azrael”– Klancain smiled, slow and broad, as a gate on the other side of the arena began to rise– “I hope you have trained your dog well. Bloodlust is a terrible, terrible mistress.”
The gate shuddered to a halt. Inaho watched, transfixed, as something moved in the shadows.
No. No, it can’t be, there hasn’t been enough time for Slaine to go feral–
A head of white-gold hair wavered into view.
•••
Sun, sun, too bright, eyes burning–
He hit the ground, curling into himself. So many scents, snow stone wind dust wood vampire vampire vampire–
Human.
His head shot up. Pulse thundering in his ears, he sprang to his feet. The pain of the half-healed wounds riddling his body faded away as the thirst rose up in a hissing white mist. His throat burned. He prowled forward, moving purposefully, eyes fixed on the prey. Even from this far, he could smell the blood, fresh and pulsing, hear the heartbeat fast and frantic–
No!
A snap of resistance surged through him, and for a second he fought down the feral bloodlust. His knees hit the dirt with a thud. That was Inaho, Inaho there, whole and safe despite the vampires–
The thirst drove him to his feet again. Rich coppery blood, so close, ready for the taking from the fragile human vessel. He staggered towards the source of those delicious enticing smells. Blood. Life. Relief.
The target had not fled yet. Was remaining motionless. Frozen with fear? The scent of it was in the air, mixing headily with the scents of blood and sweat and flesh.
“Slaine?” the human said in a low, trembling voice.
He lunged.
The target dodged, faster than he had expected. He slammed into the wall with a snarl, and whirled around. The human retreated. He gave chase.
Up and down the arena, around scattered wreckages of stone and wood, along the walls and over the dirt they danced the deadly dance of hunter and prey. Venom dripped down his chin, fangs pricking at his lips.
Then–
The human stumbled. He watched, time slowing to a crawl, as it lost its footing and fell, hard, to the stones. Moving with unnatural speed, he pounced–
A cry tore from his throat, desperate and anguished. Slaine tore out of the momentum of the jump, crashing to the ground just short of–
Inaho. Inaho’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his one eye wide with terror.
That fear– of him, of the monster he really was– hit Slaine like a blow to the chest with a hammer. The thirst pulsed through him again, burning at his wounds, his weak limbs, his parched throat. He moaned, hunching over. The wave of agony receded gradually. In its wake, he felt dampness rolling down his cheeks. A sob wrenched its way through him, leaving him shaking.
“…Slaine?” Inaho’s voice was full of wariness, but also a strange, aching hope.
“Go,” Slaine forced out. He wrapped his arms around his chest, curling his fingers into his bony shoulders. “Kill me before I… before I kill you.”
“Slaine,” Inaho breathed. Something in his voice made Slaine look up. Inaho was still there, sitting up from his sprawl against the dirt. Inaho held out one hand, palm open and trembling. “I’m not going to kill you. I wasn’t lying, when I said I am not afraid of you. I know you. I trust you.”
Slaine shook his head, more pathetic tears rolling down his cheeks. What kind of monster cries for itself? “No, no, you don’t understand, any second I could attack”–
“You won’t. I know you. I trust you,” Inaho repeated. “You won’t hurt me. Come here.”
“I can’t”–
“Let me help you.” Inaho’s voice held a note Slaine had never heard from him before– a note akin to desperation. “Take my blood. You need it.”
“But it’s not safe– I’m dangerous, feral”–
“You were about to attack me, but stopped yourself. Isn’t that enough proof?”
“I won’t”– Slaine’s breath hitched, throat dry and tight, words catching and dying until he managed to choke out– “I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“Then I can stop you. Trust me. I trust you, Slaine,” he said again, and the way Inaho’s voice curled around his name– soft, warm– shuddered up his spine.
“I’m a monster,” Slaine whispered. “I live on stolen time. I should be dead, many times over. Please…”
“Slaine.” Slaine’s eyes fluttered shut for an instant as Inaho’s warm, liquid voice ran through him. Inaho held out both hands now, beckoning, welcoming. “Please. Come to me.”
Slaine hovered. Wavered. Waves battered him, waves of need, and pain, and thirst, and longing…
With one staggering step forward, he closed the distance and fell, willingly, into Inaho’s waiting arms.
•••
Inaho cradled Slaine close, breathing in the smell of his sweat and pain, feeling the minute trembling in his muscles. There was fresh blood on his clothes. Raised scabs and fresh scars crisscrossed his pale skin. A draining. The torture method that even the Protectorate’s torturers rarely used. He held Slaine tighter with one hand. With the other, he undid his collar and pulled it down.
Veins in the throat, blood pumping swift and hard. Hopefully it would be enough.
“Slaine.”
Slaine let out a whimper in response, pressing his face into Inaho’s shoulder. Distantly, Inaho noted the rising sounds of consternation from the crowd. But it all seemed so… unimportant. Everything else faded away beneath Slaine’s delicate weight in his arms.
“Slaine. Drink from me. You aren’t a monster. Doing what you need to survive doesn’t make you one.”
Slaine lifted his head, eyes wide. “But– from your neck– I can’t”–
“You need my blood fast. And…” Inaho closed his eye and swallowed. “If it’s you, I don’t mind it.”
Slaine’s hand came up to cup his cheek. “Inaho…”
He leaned into the touch, nuzzling Slaine’s palm. Then, he tilted his head back, exposing his throat. “It’s alright.”
Slaine shuddered again, closing his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life. Take my blood, Slaine. Live.”
Slaine’s eyes fluttered open, gaze heavy and sad and pained and brimming with broken-winged hope. For a long moment, their gazes held. In that second, nothing else mattered. No jeering crowds, no glowering generals, no scheming prince.
Inaho reached up, taking the silver collar between his fingers. The ring of raw, irritated skin beneath showed painfully in the sunlight. It felt effortless, to twist it. The hinges snapped, no more than kindling beneath his grip.
With a soft clang that rang in Inaho’s ears like the peal of a bell, the collar fell to the dirt.
Slaine gasped, tears welling over and leaving fresh tracks through the dust and blood on his cheeks. He closed his eyes again, shoulders heaving with a shuddering breath. Then, he leaned in, lowering his mouth to Inaho’s scarred skin. His damp breath feathered over the column of Inaho’s throat. His lips, cracked and dry, came down in a soft kiss over Inaho’s thudding pulse point. Slaine’s mouth closed over his neck, fangs pricking needle-sharp. With utmost care and gentleness, Slaine sank those fangs into him.
The Aldnoah hit almost instantaneously, rushing through his limbs weak from days of deprivation. He gasped, cupping the back of Slaine’s head in his hand. Little rivulets of warmth spilled through him, emanating out from the place where Slaine’s hot, sweet mouth and tongue lapped at his pulse point. Noises of mindless pleasure and relief rose from Slaine, each one settling melodiously in Inaho’s chest.
The subtle tugging sensation in his veins meant nothing. The twin pinpricks of sharp pain were meaningless. Nothing, when his heart felt so full. He could see the wounds fading from Slaine’s skin, feel their heartbeats slowing into the same steady rate. Somehow, in the center of a nest of vampires, with a vampire’s fangs deep in his throat, he felt safer than he had since he was a tiny child.
Stroking Slaine’s hair, he felt it. Connected, their hearts beating in time. No words were needed. They simply… were.
After what could have been minutes, or an age, Slaine pulled away. He gave one last tender lick across the bite marks.
Inaho let go a deep sigh, the suspended moment falling away. “Are you alright?”
Slaine’s face was flushed a delicate pink. “I– better than I have ever been…” he said, voice wondering, eyes hazy and mouth hanging open slightly. There was a small smudge of blood– Inaho’s blood- at the corner of his mouth.
Inaho leaned in and kissed it away. “Wonderful.”
Slaine flushed deeper. “Now is not the time!” It was true. The crowd’s shouts of confusion and anger were getting louder. Vampires advanced through the stands, rage boiling up from them in an ominous cloud.
“You’re right. Those terraces– can you make that jump?”
Slaine stared at him. “How will we– we’re exhausted, we have no supplies”–
“Can you make it?”
Slaine swallowed and nodded.
“Can you carry me?”
Determination began to suffuse Slaine’s expression. “Yes.”
“Alright, then. Let’s surprise them.”
A grin spread across Slaine’s face. “Let’s.”
They turned to face the sky. Together, they leaped.
•••
Reaching for the impossible
They create miracles
•••
And with this story, the 1st Volume InaSure Anthology has draws its curtain, but the event is just begin. More news on live game play to win prize is coming soon.
“Hello? Hello!” A soft, insistent voice echoed in the cold air, its source standing somewhere close by. Slaine crouched behind a boulder and waited for the human to leave, more out of some false instinct than necessity. They were the same size now - humans were no longer a threat to him. Crunching footsteps, another call. Whoever it was, they did not seem ready to go away anytime soon.
“Hello! Miss Fairy, are you here? Please let me speak with you...” the voice was a little louder this time.
Fairy? Slaine frowned. Humans avoided fairies, but this boy was seeking one out. And how did he know that she was here? Slaine listened closer now, waiting for the boy to speak again. However instead of the voice, his own stomach was first to break the silence. Right, he hadn’t eaten in awhile. On top of that, he was hungrier much faster than he was accustomed to. Perhaps it was this large form that was sapping his energy. Clapping a hand over his mouth, as if it would stop the rumbling in his abdomen, Slaine crouched as close to the boulder as possible in hopes that the boy wouldn’t notice him.
He was quickly disappointed as footsteps soon headed his way. He looked around him for someplace else to dash to, but the moment he stood up, a wave of faintness came over him and he stumbled and fell into the leaves. The trees around him span, circling dizzyingly against the winter sky above. And then he was staring up into the flushed face of a boy with eyes the color of cherries.
“Are you alright?”
❋❋❋
Inaho hated winter. The cold gnawed at him no matter where he was or what clothes he put on. The stove in his little home was about the only place that didn’t feel unbearable this time of year, but lying against its warm clay walls could only thaw half of him at once, and that in itself was unpleasant in its own way. It was a good thing that he already spent most of his time at home regardless, with little reason to venture out into the bitter wind outside. Standing over a hot cauldron of stew was welcome labor, though sometimes he wondered whether Yuki really would rather stay at home instead of work, and simply said nothing for his sake. If it was just the cold, he would switch places with her in a heartbeat, but there was another reason he rarely left the confines of their modest property.
It was that reason which drew him out into the woods every day that week. The fairy he searched for year after year, winter and summer, when she might be visible to him during the solstice, was unsurprisingly absent again. He was sure she must be there somewhere, probably high amongst the barren canopy, but she never showed herself to him. For ten years he had been met only with silence.
Today, for the first time, he heard someone there. It wasn’t the fairy, he knew that much when he began walking in the direction of a sound, but it was someone, and that someone might know something about her. A moment later he was looking down at a boy lying stunned in the leaves at his feet. He had fallen all on his own - Inaho had watched him tumble headlong and roll a bit down the incline that sloped towards the valley below. Habit withheld his hand from helping the boy up, but he approached to a safe distance just to be sure there were no injuries. The peculiar sound that had initially caught his attention was probably the boy’s empty stomach, he realized, which was being clutched by two thin, poorly clothed arms, and was no doubt also the reason for his stumbling. Inaho rummaged in his pockets for something edible to give him; he had brought along a bit of bread wrapped up in a handkerchief for himself. Since he hadn’t found what he was looking for, it wouldn’t much matter if he gave away his meal and headed home. There was over half a loaf remaining on the kitchen table, if Yuki hadn’t yet descended upon it.
“Are you alright?” he asked, taking the bread and placing it beside the boy before stepping back. It felt a bit like setting out food for the rabbits back home, but he wouldn’t take any risks. There had been too many mistakes in the past.
The boy seemed relieved, anyway, that he’d backed off a little. He stirred, and pulled himself up into a seated position, but did not touch the food. Instead he looked as though he was preparing to make another run for it.
“You should recover your strength,” Inaho quickly advised him, “the food is safe, I made it myself.”
Blue-green eyes shifted to him, wide and wary, though the effect of the boy’s threatening expression was somewhat lost amongst the leaves littering his hair.
“Do you live in the village?” Inaho questioned, with the thought that they might return together before the sun dipped below the far peak. It was already beginning to get colder. Since he’d rather not abandon the boy, it would be a convenient arrangement to help him safely to wherever he belonged, though ultimately, he suspected that this person was neither lost nor from the village. It seemed he might be wandering, and had probably come from someplace else. Anyone from the village would know better than to venture into the mountain forests alone.
The boy shook his head in answer. His hand reached tentatively for the wrapped bread, and as he sniffed it another loud complaint resounded from his stomach. Immediately the light pink at the boy’s cheeks deepened several shades, and for a brief moment he looked as though he would hurl the morsel into a nearby shrub. Instead, his fingers began to tremble as they curled around it, and something damp began to fall onto the cloth. Inaho realized that the droplets were coming from the boy’s eyes, and that tears were traveling down his face and onto the bread.
“I promise you, it’s safe to eat,” Inaho repeated, at a loss, and not a little curious as to what would cause this boy to be so wary of him that he would suspect him of keeping poisoned food on hand in case of chancing upon him. Was someone hunting him? “Here, give it back,” he pointed to the ground where he had originally placed it. Perhaps if he ate some of it himself, the boy would trust him.
“No. I believe you,” answered the boy, very low, and Inaho realized now that the tears had meant relief, “Th... thank you. Is this human food?”
It was a strange question to hear from a human. “Yes. Are you… a fairy?” He had heard that sometimes fairies took human form, and even lived their whole lives that way, though it seemed unreasonable to him to go through the trouble of being something you weren’t. Being human wasn’t all that great.
“I’m not,” was the swift reply. The boy slowly lifted the bread to his mouth and took a very small bite. It was quickly followed by another, and another, and Inaho had to warn him not to scarf it too quickly lest he give himself a stomachache.
“Do you know the fairy that lives here?” he inquired as the boy ate. It was unlikely, but worth asking, on the slim chance that he had finally discovered someone who could help him.
The boy looked up at him again, and brushed the crumbs from his mouth before answering. “There are many fairies that live here. Which one do you mean?”
Inaho looked around him. Could it be that he truly couldn’t see them at all? Perhaps the fairy he sought had actually answered him, and he was simply unable to see her...
“I don’t think there are any here right now,” the boy added, noting his searching eyes, “It’s winter, so they’ve probably gone to stay at the Glade. Do you know her name? What does she look like?”
“She had hair like a pearl, and sapphire wings like cracked stained glass, the same color as her eyes. And she wore a gown made of a lily.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed somewhat, and from the slight, wary tilt of his head, Inaho was sure that he had finally found a clue as to her whereabouts. “What do you want with that fairy?” the boy inquired instead, his words all but confirming that he knew her, or at least knew of her.
“I have a favor to ask of her.”
“In that case, you shouldn’t bother. She probably won’t grant it.”
Inaho was aware of that much. The fairy girl would likely not be easily persuaded, especially given she was the reason for his needing the favor in the first place. “Do you know where she is? Can you take me to her?”
❋❋❋
Slaine eyed the human with suspicion. One could only describe this fairy in such detail if they had actually met her, unless she was the stuff of bedtime stories, which he very much doubted given what he’d been told. This boy must have encountered her before at some point. As far as Slaine was aware, fairies and humans had little reason to interact, and the former stuck mostly to the remote mountain forests, while the latter took refuge along the river in the lush valley. It was best for all of them if they simply kept to themselves.
“I don’t know her, or where she is,” he answered in half-truth. The full truth was that he was also searching for this same fairy, and would rather not have someone interfering with his mission, especially someone he didn’t even know or especially trust. Anyway, it was very unlikely that she would answer the request of an ordinary human boy. If what he had been told about her was true, she wasn’t a very friendly person. It would be difficult enough to complete his own quest. “You should go home,” he added, noting the path of the sun, “it isn’t safe here after sundown.”
“It’s not safe for you, either,” the other returned, “If you need a place to sleep, you should come with me. You’ll freeze to death up here in those clothes.”
Slaine watched the boy take a step back, rather than extend a helpful hand as he pulled himself to his feet, and couldn’t help but wonder if there was not some distrust on both sides. Even so, the boy had been very generous and kind thus far, for a complete stranger. Slaine glanced at the sky once more, and recalling the torturous hours of the early morning when he had set out, he gave a resigned nod. A stranger’s home would be far better than staying in the cold forest, with nothing to eat and only a boulder to shield him from the harsh mountain wind.
“What may I call you?” asked the boy, “my name is Inaho.”
Slaine took his time in answering. He didn’t like handing out his name so flippantly in unknown territory, but this boy seemed safe enough. In any case, he was going home with him. With another sigh, he answered quietly, “Slaine.”
❋❋❋
The house was smaller than he had expected. Slaine could not remember having ever set foot in a human home, though he was sure he must have been born in one. The circumstances of his birth were as much a mystery to himself as to anyone, but he liked to think there was something normal about it, and that after a perfectly ordinary infancy, there had been good reasons for his mother to abandon him in the forest.
Or rather, that was what he used to believe. He knew better now - his birth was not a mystery at all, and nothing about his life had been left to chance. Knowing that his mother had never meant to part with him was small comfort in the face of the realization that everything else in his life had only ever been a farce. He wondered what it would have been like to grow up within walls like this, snug and comfortable and welcome. The place where he was raised was nothing like the valley; the Glade was much warmer, being kept that way by the fairies themselves, and generally there was less between them and the earth.
Immediately, the bread on the table caught his attention, and he felt his stomach complain again. It was inconvenient having to eat so often; back home with the fairies, he only ate when he felt like it. The thought that perhaps his body was lacking sixteen years’ worth of nutrients made him uneasy, but he supposed if that were true, he’d have perished upon his return to this form. What he was feeling might actually be normal for a human. He wouldn’t know.
“Do you live on the East Mountain?” inquired Inaho as he gestured towards a chair.
He was beginning to tire of these questions. Especially since he felt obliged to answer, given the hospitality he was receiving. “Yes.” There didn’t need to be explanation. There wasn’t much to tell, anyway; anyone from the East Mountain was either a traveler, a fairy, or a madman. Humans didn’t live there, unless they were a changeling.
“You were raised by them,” Inaho guessed easily.
Slaine did not deny it. He accepted an offered cup and peered at its contents before taking an experimental sip. The liquid was warm in his mouth and the taste was sweet and somehow familiar. Drawing the cup away from his lips, he looked into it again in an effort to determine what it was. He had not watched its preparation, being too preoccupied with his surroundings.
“It’s made from a rose syrup,” Inaho offered, apparently noting the curious look in his eyes as he stared and sipped in turns.
“Rose? But it’s winter…” He was quite sure roses did not bloom in winter.
“The syrup is made during the summer, and keeps in the cupboard all winter. A spoonful is added to hot water as a medicinal drink.”
It sounded very nice, and he let the warmth settle inside him, the sensation strange but comfortable. The fairies did not make hot drinks.
❋❋❋
“Do you live alone?”
It was the first true question Slaine asked him.
“My sister lives here with me,” he answered, and glanced at the door. Yuki was late coming home, but then that was not unusual. She often got carried away with her work and lost track of time. Inaho had gotten quite used to it, and so long as she returned before bedtime he felt no need to worry.
As he watched the onions sizzle cheerily in the butter at the bottom of the cauldron, he considered how to persuade Slaine to help him. If it was a petty favor, he would have abandoned it years ago, but this was something he simply couldn’t give up on. He would find that fairy by any means necessary. Yuki’s life could depend on it.
Steam curled in thin clouds above the cauldron as the soup began to boil. He carefully sliced vegetables and dropped them into the broth, along with various herbs selected from jars in the cupboard.
“Do you get lonely?” came another unexpected inquiry. Though perhaps the question was not really all that strange, considering fairies were, from his understanding, very social creatures. Slaine was probably used to constant, lively company.
He tapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the cauldron and hung it on a hook by the stove, hands following their routine path while his mind considered the question. “It doesn’t matter,” he eventually replied. It didn’t matter, not for him. Though it might, if Slaine would help him. “I can’t be near other people.”
“Can’t?” Slaine looked at him with eyebrows slightly raised in question, voice echoing a bit in his nearly empty cup, which he had just raised to his lips. His dark lashes fluttered in the steam which puffed into them as his breath gently stirred the hot liquid.
The lengthening gaze showed no sign of averting, and Inaho resigned himself to giving answer. It might help his cause in persuading Slaine, anyway, if the circumstances which prompted his mission were understood. On the other hand, it could also drive Slaine away, and then he would be back to where he’d started.
He met the other’s eyes, saying nothing at first. He wasn’t quite sure where to begin, because he had never had to explain it to anyone before. Either they knew from what they had seen or heard, and looked at him as though he were the Devil himself, or they were blissfully unaware, and Inaho had to go out of his way to avoid them in order to prevent any terrible accidents. He was never quite sure which was worse - being hated, or having people mistake his caution for contempt. These days there was less of the latter, since in the end most everyone in the little village had found out one way or another, and branding him anathema had forced him into near total seclusion. He could not complain.
The vigorously boiling soup gave him an excuse to break eye contact, and he turned back to the stove to stir it. It would be better to tell Slaine, he assured himself. There was no sense in keeping it from him. Perhaps, because Slaine had lived amongst fairies and their magic, he would understand. Yes, it would be better to say it… He wiped the sweat from his palms onto a rag cloth and carefully moved the cauldron away from the direct heat of the fire, leaving it to simmer. Then he seated himself across from Slaine.
“When... I was a child...” he began, uncertain, “I went into the mountain forest alone. There I was cursed by a fairy, and ever since, if I touch another human… they die. I want to ask the fairy to reverse it.”
Slaine set his cup down slowly and leaned forward, expression unreadable. “You haven’t touched another human since childhood?” he asked, voice low and incredulous.
“I have.”
There was a very long silence after that confession, and he debated whether providing directions to the nearest inn might now be the wisest course of action. There was little reason for Slaine to remain here with someone who had just freely admitted to murder, let alone aid him as he’d hoped.
“It must be difficult,” answered Slaine in a tone that sounded earnest and free of reproach. He craned his neck a bit to cast a glance over Inaho’s shoulder at the soup. “That smells good.”
Before Inaho could determine what to do with such a reaction, there was a rustling, scuffing sound at the door, and a moment later Yuki appeared. She seemed as though she was going to say something as she stepped into the house and closed the creaky wooden door behind her, but was immediately distracted by Slaine, who was in the middle of reaching for the remaining bread.
“Oh!” she exclaimed instead, “Nao, who is this?”
❋❋❋
No fairy could produce a curse - they were not capable of that sort of ill-intended magic. The more likely explanation was that she had meant for it to be a blessing, but that the gift had backfired due to lack of experience. Or perhaps Inaho had just been the unlucky recipient of a stray spell, which young fairies sometimes cast in the forest for play or practice, so as not to disrupt anything at home. Whatever the case, it was a terrible thing to live with. His life must have been traumatic, if people really did die when they came in contact with him.
Slaine let the thoughts drift to the back of his mind as he focused his attention on the woman who had just entered the little house. She looked at him with cheerful, curious eyes, though he could easily detect the jaded exhaustion that lay beneath the surface.
“Welcome home, Yuki,” Inaho greeted her, with the first smile Slaine had seen from him. He introduced them briefly before ducking into a cupboard for some bowls.
She smiled as well, casting an uncertain glance between them, and excused herself to wash up for supper. Slaine watched her disappear up some wooden stairs, looking at the home with new perspective as he listened to her footsteps above them in the loft. Everything was separate, even down to the chairs at the far ends of the table, and the gloves that were laid neatly on the shelf above the stove, Inaho immediately pulled onto his hands again when he had finished cooking. They were obviously very careful, but one little mistake would end in tragedy, and with them living in such close quarters, the chances of such an accident occurring eventually were that much higher.
Slaine returned his gaze to Inaho. “I understand your urgency,” he admitted, pausing to accept the bowl that was set in front of him, “If you want… you can come with me. I am also searching for that fairy.”
He would probably regret his offer, but then this house was wonderfully warm, and the soup smelled very good, and he had no provisions to speak of, nor knowledge of how to prepare any of his own. His body would give out again in a day or two if he tried to go it alone in this harsh environment. It would be best to take someone experienced with him, someone with food and human skills, even if it might result in some unwanted interference.
Slaine glanced up from his soup, and saw that Inaho was still standing there. He couldn’t quite read his expression, but he seemed pleased at least. Perhaps it was relief? “Thank you,” Inaho said quietly, before turning to fill another bowl for his sister.
Slaine shivered in the icy air of early morning. There was no wind, but the rising sun had not yet touched the valley, and even with the extra layers of clothing Inaho had insisted he take, Slaine could not keep his teeth from chattering or his body from shaking.
“You’ll warm up once we’ve walked a bit,” assured Inaho, who was also shivering, and might even have been a little grumpy about it, if the very slight furrow of his brow was anything to go by. The rest of his face was all wrapped up in a long strip of woven fabric.
Slaine adjusted the pack he was given to carry. It was a little heavy, but Inaho was right that the exercise made him warm. Supposedly it was filled with provisions, so there wasn’t anything to complain about. The first leg of their journey wasn’t all that difficult, since they merely had to cut through the village to the other side, which lay at the foot of the West Mountain. From there they would travel up into the forest in search of the fairy.
“I’m told she lives on the West Mountain now,” he had explained to Inaho as they planned their journey the previous evening, “Apparently there is a fairy that was tasked with watching over her, though he disappeared some years ago. Hopefully his information is still correct regarding her whereabouts. Her name is Princess Lemrina.”
There were very few people in the streets at that hour, and after witnessing the various scornful looks cast their way, he was grateful for it. Passing through town when everyone was up and about would probably have been a painful affair for Inaho, regardless of how unaffected he seemed by their hateful eyes, their whispers, and their wide berth of him. His expression may not have betrayed any reaction at all, but ever since entering the main part of town Slaine noticed that he looked mostly at the ground as the walked, only every now and again glancing in the direction of Slaine’s feet as though to check that he hadn’t strayed too close. The mere fact that Inaho was going to such lengths to regain his normalcy spoke more clearly of his true sentiment, though Slaine supposed it was possible that his sister had more to do with it than anything. He could not imagine being in such a precariously dangerous position with Asseylum.
As they trudged past the final few houses at the outskirts of the west side, the sun crept over the east peak and shed its warmth against their backs. The heat felt good, and strange at the same time as it contrasted with the cool breeze coming down off the mountain from the forest they were about to enter. Before they ventured into it, having scrambled their way up the fenced pastures filled with tall grasses, bent over from the frost and hiding the thicker, treacherous brambles that grew close to the earth, Inaho came to a stop by a large, fallen tree, and suggested they eat breakfast before proceeding.
Slaine sat down on the tree and waited for instructions as to what they were to eat. He hadn’t watched Inaho fill the packs - he had been fast asleep at the time. Inaho was already drawing something out from his own pack, a thick brown cloth folded around something that gave off the faintest mist of steam in the cold air. Slaine could already smell it as it was placed beside him on the uneven tree bark.
As he unwrapped the warm bread and began to eat it, he glanced sidelong at Inaho. He wondered whether that quiet nature was innate, or acquired from so many years of solitude. Inaho had not said much at supper the previous night, not even in the presence of his sister. In fact, he had actually said less at the table than before she’d arrived. Slaine didn’t mind it, though; the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or tense. He felt calmer somehow, not having to think of things to say to someone he didn’t know.
Once they had finished their meal and packed up, they continued on their way up the mountainside, into a grove of evergreen trees. The further into the forest they went, the surer Slaine became of one thing. Inaho must have noticed his unease, and halting by a pile of broken rocks, turned to face him. “Is something the matter?” he asked, his head tilting a little and eyebrows slightly raised in question. Slaine noted that the wind-burned red had left his cheeks, replaced by a soft, flushed pink, no doubt from the exertion of climbing. Inaho was probably not accustomed to much exercise of this kind, and Slaine admittedly was not either. Somehow moving took less energy when he was smaller, and when magic and nectar sustained his body.
Slaine chewed at his bottom lip. “I’m… not sure that I can actually see fairies anymore.” For some reason, he felt terrible admitting it. He had told Inaho that he would help him, and now he was saying he actually couldn’t help at all. In truth, anything useful he’d had to offer had been shared already. No one from the Glade knew exactly where the lost Princess had gone, not since five or six years ago, so it was anyone’s guess where on this mountain she had settled.
Inaho did not seem particularly upset. “The solstice will-”
“That’s a myth,” Slaine cut in, “If you ever saw a fairy without magic to help you, it was because she wanted you to see her. There is no veil between us, it’s simply that, due to such a lack of magic here, their natural presence is too faint for most humans to see.”
“Then you normally use magic to see them?”
He shook his head. “The magic in the Glade is strong enough that I don’t need to do anything in order to see them. The fairies’ presence is strengthened by the foundational spells of the Royal Court - any human would be able to see them there.”
“But you can use magic to see them here,” stated Inaho, somehow unphased by all this discouraging news, “can any human use magic?”
Their eyes met, and Slaine felt himself wither at the question. Clearly Inaho intended to try it, if it was possible, and being the one to enable him made Slaine feel directly responsible for the outcome. He ought to feel lucky that here was someone possibly willing to make a sacrifice that he would have otherwise had to make himself, but instead he was only filled with reluctance and a nagging feeling of guilt.
In the end, he managed to convince himself that it would be best to allow Inaho to make his own decision, even if it was self-serving. After all, at this rate Inaho would be stuck like this forever, and that would undoubtedly be the worse fate for him. There were few sacrifices that would outweigh the misfortune that already existed. Would Inaho give anything to live alongside his sister without fear? To someday kiss a lover, or hold the hand of a child?
“Yes,” Slaine answered simply, at last. “But there is a cost.”
“If I won’t die, it’s not a problem.”
Slaine gaped at him for a moment before collecting himself. He had expected that response, but the speed with which Inaho had made the decision without even knowing what it would do to him was still a little staggering. This was Inaho’s answer to ‘would you give anything?’
Slaine exhaled. “You won’t die. There is an ointment that will allow you to see them, but after several hours the eye imbued with magic won’t be able to see anything at all. I brought it in case, but I wasn’t expecting to really use it.” He truly hadn’t, because up till now he had been desperately relying on the hope that enough residual magic had stuck with him to get by outside of the Glade without anything extra. Somehow, his rational side had planned a little better, and had taken the ointment along as a backup. Obtaining it was an especially risky business, because the Princess would have cried if she’d known about it, and so he had needed to steal it without her finding out.
Asseylum did not know about this world, or how different it was from the Glade. He might have asked her for a few spells to make the journey easier, but that would have necessitated explaining the various dangers and inconveniences to her, and then she might have revoked her permission for him to go entirely. He was already walking on thin ice in that regard - it had taken him several weeks to convince her that she was needed at Court, and that she ought to send someone else to find her sister. Naturally, he had suggested himself; not just to protect Princess Asseylum, but because this long lost sister was also someone he very much wanted to personally bring home. Asseylum knew this as well, and her understanding of the latter was what in the end prevailed against her reluctance with the former. Yet even knowing how she would feel about the ointment, and what the consequences would be of using it, Slaine had taken it, because if luck did not favor him on this mission, he would need a way to search. It was too important a quest to come home empty-handed.
Now luck had favored him, and despite the guilt, he reached to unclasp the silver chain that encircled his neck, and slowly handed over the tiny vial that swung from it. A clear liquid sparkled within its crystal walls, reflecting the sparse sunlight that filtered through the evergreen branches above and casting tiny flecks of dancing color on Inaho’s outstretched palm.
❋❋❋
Inaho had expected that some form of cost would be required of him from the fairy, if he was able to find her and convince her to remove the spell from him, so one more sacrifice wasn’t too much of an issue. However, it would be inconvenient if he lost his sight completely - he might become even more of a burden on Yuki until he could learn to function without it, and that was something he would rather avoid. Time would be of the essence once the ointment was applied to the first eye. He pocketed the vial and looked to Slaine once more.
“When is the best time to encounter fairies?”
“Just after sundown, or in the morning when the dew is still fresh. During the warm midday we-... they sleep,” Slaine caught himself awkwardly, sounding a little despondent as he continued, “Though I admit I’m not sure about the fairies on this mountain. Perhaps they differ from the ones at home…”
Inaho thought that was probably true, if the rumor was to be believed that the fairies on the West Mountain were for the most part outcasts and loners. It was likely that they differed a great deal in social matters, but he had to wonder if it would make much of a difference in something natural like sleep.
“I think we should travel a little further,” added Slaine as he began to walk ahead, “and then make camp. They will probably like the fire, and might even come to us on their own if they assume we can’t see them. Then we can ask whether they’ve seen the Princess.”
Inaho watched him clamber up the hillside for a moment before following. He disliked seeing the boy falter along the path; it always made him feel like something terrible would happen, and he would be powerless to do anything about it. He would never try to catch someone again. Not until this curse was lifted, anyway. But Slaine was so unsteady, he found himself moving in spite of everything, on reflexes he had buried long ago. Inaho pulled his gloves on more securely.
❋❋❋
Starting the fire turned out to be a difficult feat in the damp forest, but eventually the they were able to get a decent blaze going. Supper was a simple affair, and neither said much. Inaho was running the various outcomes of this night in his mind, though he was fairly certain of his decision from the outset. Even if he was blinded, and they did not find the fairy after all, he would have at least prevented Slaine from using the ointment on himself. That compensated for the loss somewhat, though he wasn’t sure it could be considered a satisfactory result overall. Really, there was no reason for him to count it as a pro, considering he should reasonably feel no responsibility for Slaine. That didn’t change the fact that he did, though. Ever since he saw the boy collapse from hunger, he had felt responsible for him. Maybe it was only because he’d never had someone to take care of before. Or, maybe it was because Slaine was the first person to act normally around him. Most would have run away after discovering what sort of creature he really was, but Slaine had not been phased by it at all. He still wasn’t. It was a different feeling, having to keep his distance from someone other than Yuki, who actually knew but didn’t seem to care. It was comfortable and stressful at the same time.
The sun dipped behind the mountain, and accordingly Inaho reached into his pocket for the vial. If all went well, they would be able to find the fairy soon. If things didn’t work out as they hoped, they would have to come up with something else. And while Inaho was sure he could continue trying to change his situation for years to come, he would much rather it be sooner than later. Yuki shouldn’t have to take care of him forever, and he liked to think that, once cured, he would be able to live self-sufficiently, though in reality he well knew that his stigma would not lift along with the curse. A place in human society was something he would never have, regardless.
He watched Slaine thoughtfully chew his bread, and thought he seemed more fidgety than before. It reminded him of how Yuki got restless when she had something to say to him that she didn’t want to say. He wondered whether that was typical, or if people’s habits differed and meant different things. Slaine had no reason to hold anything back from him, it wasn’t as though they were close friends or family. They had nothing to lose by offending one another. Even so, Slaine’s eyes remained downcast and evasive.
Inaho had seen lots of people’s eyes in his lifetime, before he’d begun avoiding them, but he’d never seen any quite like Slaine’s. At first he thought it was the color, but then he might’ve seen a little girl with blue-green eyes once, a long time ago. Now that he thought about it, she’d looked rather like Slaine in other ways, as well. Slaine’s eyes had a look in them, though, that was different than most people’s. Maybe it was because the expressions Inaho was most used to were limited to the spectrum of disgust and fear, but he’d seen plenty that didn’t realize he was there. Eyes that smiled, and laughed, and teased, and adored. People who were enjoying each other’s company, unaware of the young reaper that quietly watched them from a distance. There was a time when Yuki’s eyes sparkled, too, before they were tinged with the dull sheen of continual worry and weariness.
Slaine’s eyes were different. They were full of life, despite the distant, melancholy look in them, like something wild and lonely. Inaho wondered what the reason for that look could be. As the light faded and the stars came out one by one, he removed his gloves and took the vial between two fingers, removing the cap very carefully with his other hand. He laid an index finger over the open top, and turned the vial over once. Would his own eyes look different after this?
Slaine’s gaze jumped to him as he lifted his hand to his left eye, but he didn’t say a word. The liquid stung a little and Inaho blinked away the tears that tried to wash the substance out. He’d barely had time to think about what he had just done to himself when a soft, purple glow nearby caught his attention. There by the fire, sitting cross-legged and holding a stick thrice her own length, with some sort of mushroom poked onto the end of it, was a fairy. She seemed rather pleased with herself to have chanced upon such an opportunity, though her purple eyes bore a dark intensity that seemed somehow discordant with the calm sway of her little frame and the cheerful bob of her chestnut hair as she moved to some unsung tune.
She must have felt his eyes on her, because he’d hardly made the assessment that this was not the fairy they sought before she noticed that he was able to see her. She tensed a little, but didn’t move from where she sat toasting her mushroom. Then her mouth opened, and he thought she was probably asking him something, but he couldn’t quite hear it, so he leaned a little closer and asked her to repeat it. His sudden movement caused her some alarm, and she lept to her feet, holding the stick between them like a javelin. After a wary moment, she lowered the stick a fraction and asked again: “Why can you see me?”
“Fairy ointment,” he explained simply, and then added, before she could decide whether she liked that answer or not, “I’m looking for someone. A fairy. Can you help me find her?”
“That’ll turn you blind,” she replied with a skeptical look, as though he didn’t already know that. “If you’re wanting a guide, find someone else. I’m not interested.”
“I only want to know if you’ve seen her.” Inaho went on to describe the fairy princess. He hardly expected the first fairy he came across to have seen her, but he would ask every single one of them until he found one that had, or until he went blind trying.
“Her?!” The fairy stared at him as though he’d described a fantastic monster. “Nobody’s seen her. Not recently, anyway; nowadays she never leaves her house.”
“Can you tell me where she lives?”
The fairy girl cast a wary glance at Slaine. She leaned on her stick, placing a tiny hand on her leaf-clad hip. “I thought I told you already, I’m not interested.”
“You don’t need to guide us there. We can find the place ourselves if you tell us where to go.”
She shook her head. “No, you can’t.”
“We can. We have to.”
“You can't. Perhaps if you were a fairy you could fly there easily, but humans have to go to all sorts of trouble to find it. She doesn’t like visitors, either, from what I hear.”
Inaho hadn’t expected the pearl-haired fairy to be very sociable, so the news wasn’t all that surprising. It didn’t matter one way or the other what sort of a person she was, so long as he could finally see her again, and make his request. He did not, however, want to get lost on the way, if it really was as difficult to find as this fairy claimed. They might need some sort of guide, after all.
“We really need to speak with her. Do you know of anyone who might be willing to take us there?”
While he had been thinking the matter over, the girl had sat down again, and put the stick across her lap, and was in the process of testing the doneness of her mushroom when he asked the question. She did not look up at him, but cast a quick glance at the thicket to their left. “I suppose I might know someone,” she answered coolly. “They’re sort of an airhead and might only get you lost, though, so don’t blame me if something goes horribly wrong.”
There was a faint, indignant shout from the thicket, and now Inaho was sure someone else was there. He squinted at it, and a tiny face came into focus. It peeked out from between two thick, glossy holly leaves, and a cluster of red berries rested on her head like baubles. Her glow was also purple, but a bit more vibrant, and less intense than the fairy with the stick’s. She must have been leaning on a twig, because a moment later it snapped beneath her, and three fairies came tumbling out of the thicket in a heap. There was another girl, and a boy, both with hair the color of wheat. The three tried to scramble back into the thicket all at once, but only ended up tangling themselves further, and getting nearly swallowed up by the autumn leaves that littered the ground.
“Wh-who are you calling an airhead, Rayet?!” demanded the girl with the purple glow, having given up her attempt at escape and now marching heatedly towards the first fairy, who must be called Rayet.
“Does it matter?” replied Rayet, her mouth all full of mushroom, “All of you are.”
There was a collective outrage amongst the others, and Inaho almost didn’t notice the soft laugh from across the fire. He had actually forgotten Slaine was still there. Rayet must also have heard the laugh, because her eyes were on him, more suspicious than ever.
“Can you hear us?” she asked flatly, and at that everyone hushed up in an instant.
Slaine cast a reluctant look her way. “I can,” he answered with a quiet nod, “though not very well, and I still can’t see you.” The way his eyes missed her while he was looking right at her confirmed that he was not lying about that, and she seemed somewhat satisfied with the answer, though no less wary.
“What are you?” she inquired again.
Slaine scrunched his nose. “That’s rude. I’m human.”
“Humans don’t notice our voices if they’re not looking right at us and making a great effort to listen.”
“I’ve lived my entire life with fairies,” reasoned Slaine, “It would be stranger if I didn’t notice your voices if I’m already aware that you’re speaking.”
“Hm.” She made no further comment, and took another bite of her mushroom. It appeared he had confirmed something in her mind, which she was now mulling over quietly.
Slaine was now the one eyeing her suspiciously, but he let the matter rest. In the meantime, the other three fairies had begun to play some sort of game by the fire, and were running around it so recklessly with squeals and laughter that Inaho was afraid one of them would end up falling right into it. They never did - they were far too nimble for that, and their magic, or their wings, would probably protect them anyway. Seeing them reminded him of how he used to watch the village children play games together, too. Back when keeping his mother and sister in the dark about what truly happened when they sent him out to play with the others was all that he’d had to worry about. Perhaps if he’d said something then, he would never have had to run away into the woods that day, and then he would never have encountered that fairy. She must have known that they would be waiting for him to return, just before dark when the forest became too cold to endure any longer. Had she followed him to the edge of the village to see her curse at work?
Inaho had always suspected there was something inherently wrong with him, he had even asked his mother about it once, though she had looked alarmed at the question and quickly assured him that he was mistaken. He had never brought it up again after that - it wasn’t worth worrying her over something he couldn’t change. And then the curse had only brought to light the deficiencies as a human that had always been there, that everyone but his family could plainly see from the time that he could walk. It swept away any uncertainty on the matter when he never, not even now, felt responsible for those children’s deaths. It wasn’t as though he could have stopped them, but he was supposed to feel guilty for it. That was natural and right. Regret or sadness, even, might have sufficed, but he’d only ever felt relieved. Those children wouldn't hit him and push him down anymore, they'd never yell in his face or make him do awful things ever again.
“How awful, for a child to do such a thing.” The horrified whispers began immediately. “I always knew there was something eerie about him.” “That boy murdered my child, why do they do nothing? Why does he not pay for his crime?!” They had no proof. They would not burn a child, even if they did. “A sorcerer disguised as a child.” “Possessed by demons.” “A servant of the Devil.” They thought of every possibility, except the one that was true. “A changeling” came closest to the mark, but he wasn't a fairy. After a while it didn’t matter what he was, so long as he stayed away. “Even his mother is afraid of him. Look, he fell down and his knee is bleeding, and still she won’t go near him.” If there had been any doubt in their minds that there was something terribly amiss with him, it was banished the moment she collapsed in the street, her arms still wrapped around him.
His mother had always been a strong woman, never giving up even after the scandalous and untimely death of her husband, enduring cheerfully as she worked herself thin to feed her two children and raise them all alone. Inaho had never wanted her to know that the other children tormented him, that her precious child was disliked, hated; because he was different, and because their parents didn’t like her. After that day, slowly, month by month, he had watched her succumb to despair. Eventually, she could no longer bear it. He would never really be sure whether the embrace had been an act of love, or if she had merely used him to take her own life.
“You should probably get going soon.” Rayet’s voice brought him back to the present. “That ointment only lasts so long.”
The other fairies had given up their game and were now sitting round the fire in a circle, toasting various foods on sticks. They all looked a little surprised at Rayet’s words, and after a minute or so of whispering amongst themselves, finally the boy got to his feet, face very solemn, and explained to Inaho that fairy ointment would cause blindness in humans.
Rayet gave him an exasperated look. “He knows that already. Are you going to guide them or not?”
“Count me in! This place bores me to death,” chimed the girl with the blonde hair, whose glow was such a bright pink that it made her hard to look at.
The other girl seemed less enthusiastic, her tiny brow furrowed in serious thought as she drew circles in the dirt with her finger. “I don’t think we should go there…” she said at last, so quietly that Inaho nearly didn’t hear it.
The boy seemed as though he was about to agree with her, and so Inaho quickly interjected with an offer. “If it’s in my power, I’ll give anything you want in exchange.”
“Honey!” they all exclaimed at once, except for Rayet, who looked about ready to hit them all with her stick. “You lot only think about your stomachs,” she muttered, though the way her eyes studied Inaho’s satchel, she was clearly also hoping that he would give them honey.
Inaho accordingly drew forth a jar of honey, and set it down amongst them.
“So much!” squeaked the purple one, eyes near as big as her head as she pressed her face to the glass and stared in awe at the sticky-sweet substance within. She seemed to have entirely forgotten her former opinion, and now readily agreed to their quest.
❋❋❋
Even though Slaine could hear the fairies’ chatter, it was difficult to follow the sound of their voices. Like the quiet rustle of trees in the wind, or the babbling of a brook, he could not quite tell where the sounds were coming from when they moved about, leading the way to the home of the princess. Inaho walked a little ways ahead of him, and often glanced over one shoulder, probably to make sure that he was still there. Slaine thought again of how little use he had been, nor would be. There was no reason for Inaho to bring him along now that he’d found fairy guides. Inaho must know at this point that he was only being used, by someone who would put any opportunity to his advantage to achieve his own ends. Slaine could rationalize it all he wanted, that Inaho was the one who had asked for magic, that it had been his choice, that the self-serving results were only coincidental. He wondered why he felt badly at all, because Asseylum and her sister were the only ones he ought to care about. They were his mission, anything that fell in his path towards making amends with Lemrina, towards making Asseylum happy and bringing her last remaining family member home safely, was unimportant. The guilt only grew. It pooled and twisted in his stomach as he noticed Inaho look over his right shoulder, rather than the left as before.
After an hour or so of walking this way, Inaho came to a halt on the path ahead. Slaine paused, as well, his heart beating fast as Inaho turned to face him.
“Is something wrong? We can rest, if you’re tired.”
Slaine thought he ought to be the one asking that question. Something was definitely wrong. This was all wrong. “No. Nothing…” his gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything to apologize for.” Inaho turned to continue on, and added over his shoulder, “don’t walk so far behind, it’s too dark. It’ll waste time if we get separated.”
It would be a waste of time to search for him out here, that was certain.
❋❋❋
The sun had long set by the time they reached the part of the mountain where she lived.
“This place gives me chills…” whispered one of the fairies, and Slaine had to agree. They were looking down into the yawning mouth of a cave, which beyond the first few steps, lit by the pale moonlight, gave no hints as to where to put one’s foot and proceed. In the pitch blackness, he thought he might have caught the very pale glow of the fairies, but then it could just as easily have been his eyes playing tricks on him.
Even though he focused intently on placing each foot carefully as he clambered down after Inaho, there was apparently still much he had to learn about what would and would not bear the weight of a full sized human. A root that felt secure when he grabbed hold of it, suddenly came loose the moment he tried to steady himself with it, and with a startled yell he went flailing backwards, snatching at thin air as he tried to right himself for the landing. If the ground had been much further away, the fall might have been serious for both of them, but thankfully this cavern did not seem very deep after all. It might actually have only been a hole in the hillside. He lay still for a moment to catch his breath and steady his shaking limbs.
“Are… are they alive?” came a small voice above him, and in the stillness of the cave he could now make out the faint flutter of their wings, like the whisper of petals in the breeze.
“They’re fine,” replied Rayet, who had for some reason come along after all, despite her adamant rejection of playing guide. “Humans aren’t that fragile.”
Slaine was just about to affirm their safety when he heard a shaky exhale beneath him.
“Please... get away from me…” Instead of harsh, the words were tremulous and barely audible. That was when Slaine remembered that the impact with the ground was the least of their worries, and that their faces, the only parts of them not covered and bundled, were close enough to feel the other’s breath. A little to the left and he would have died just then.
Slaine hastily scrambled to his feet. He expected Inaho to follow, but there were no sounds of movement, only the nervous whispers of the fairies. It was several minutes before he stood up, and they continued on their way in silence.
After that incident, Slaine made an effort to keep his distance, despite Inaho’s conflicting words of only a few hours before. Somehow, the danger hadn’t felt real until it was quite literally staring him in the face. Just then, he caught a glimpse of the other side, of the people who had lived alongside Inaho for all these years. Painful as it must be to him, if what Inaho said was true, that someone had once died by his touch, then the villagers’ hatred was not unjustified, even if the crime was unintentional. His mere existence was a threat to everyone they held dear.
The moon had never appeared so bright to him as the moment they came out into the open air again. Even the stars that shimmered in swaths across the sky seemed more brilliant to him than they had even a little while before. They had walked a great distance over the past several hours, and now that the trees were no longer shrouding the heavenscape above, it dominated their view, making even his human form feel small in comparison. The ground beneath them sloped sharply down towards a glittering lake, cradled by the mountain like a bowl, and on its even surface grew soft grasses, weighed down here and there with patches of snow.
As unexpected as it was to enter this secluded little corrie, it was not nearly as surprising as the little house that met their eyes, built right into the hillside about halfway down. He had expected a home of some sort, of course, but this was a human home, made of logs and stones and thatch. Smoke drifted from its chimney, and light glowed from its windows, just like Inaho’s home back at the village.
Inaho paused to thank the fairies, and tie up the honey in a cloth that would be easier for them to carry. It still seemed like a great weight for them to lug back across the mountain, but he supposed they’d wind up stopping along the way to eat most of it anyway. It was an odd sort of luck, their meeting such willing fairies, though he was beginning to wonder if Inaho had brought that honey along for just such a purpose. He had never taken it out for them to eat during any of their meals, yet there it was, the perfect persuasion at the opportune moment. Not that he wouldn’t have taken such a bribe himself, or wasn’t, in a sense, doing that very thing now, since after all he was still depending on Inaho for his basic sustenance. Cunning was added to dangerous in his mind as he watched his travel companion start down the path towards the house.
It had been many, many years since Inaho had last come so close to another person. Close enough that he could almost feel the warmth of a body not his own. In that moment, he could hardly keep himself from reaching out and pulling Slaine closer, to feel the touch that he so feared and craved.
Slaine had gotten unusually distant since then, in a different, more cautious way than before, and Inaho could only assume that the boy had been shaken enough by such a close call to now look at him with a proper perspective. While it meant he had less reason to worry about any more future accidents, Slaine’s former carelessness around him was something he hadn’t expected to miss. It had been sort of nice, while it lasted.
Inaho shelved the matter as he shifted his attention to the unexpected view now before them. Did the fairy live with a human? Had these fairies led them astray, after all? He inquired whether they were sure, and all of them confirmed it.
“I suppose she prefers this form, after all…” Slaine said half to himself as they approached the door, and Inaho was not quite sure what he meant by it.
“Are you sure you want to meet her?” he asked, hand raised to knock, “She might only curse you, too.”
Slaine’s gaze shifted away. He seemed nervous, but muttered “I have to” nevertheless. It was a while before anyone came to the door, and Inaho feared no one was at home, despite the obvious signs of habitation. He rapped again periodically in case - maybe she was asleep, or in the cellar, or was occupied with something. Eventually, the door did open, and a girl appeared. Immediately he assessed that she did not look like the fairy he had met in the forest all those years ago. Rather than round and sapphire blue, her angled, dark-lashed eyes were almost perfect replicas of Slaine’s. Even her hair, the color a perfect match, fell in the same soft layers, moved in the same light, airy way, though it reached to her shoulders where Slaine’s was cropped more closely to frame his face.
“Hm,” she regarded each of them in turn, and then smiled impishly, “The persecuted boy and the changeling prince… I expected you two might find this place eventually, but I never imagined you’d turn up together.”
She turned away from the door, leaving it open for them to enter, and paced across the smooth wood floor to a chair by the fire. Inaho noted a slight limp in her step, and wondered whether it was chronic or a recent injury. He filed the thought away as he stepped into the house, surveying the room at a glance. Only now that he was in the light did he notice the full extent of what had been slowly changing in his left eye during the night’s journey. He was still able to see with it, but only light and shadow shifting in colors and shapes. It was almost more effective to simply close it and rely on his right.
Once she had settled comfortably, and pulled her knitting basket into her lap, she looked up at them and gestured to the sofa. Inaho looked at it for a moment before sitting down. He’d never actually seen such a nice piece of furniture, let alone sat on one with dirty clothes, though Slaine seemed so accustomed to his own cluelessness in the area of human conventions that one more oddity made no difference to him, and he plopped onto the upholstered seat without a second thought. He was probably exhausted. Inaho sat gingerly at the far end of the sofa.
The girl picked up her knitting needles, and coiled the yarn around her fingers. “You don’t seem surprised one bit by my appearance, Slaine. Although, I suppose you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know the truth.”
Slaine frowned, staring hard at the floor and twisting the edge of his scarf between his fingers. “Why do you live as a human?” he asked at last.
She tilted her head, letting her hands fall idle in her lap. “Why do you live as a fairy? It was what was decided for us. A beautiful human boy to marry the beautiful fairy princess. A perfect match. They had no need for a defective, extra princess like me; one who was born flightless and sickly. Did you enjoy a carefree life, while I learned the truth of myself, alone, neglected, and at last orphaned by the parents that were never mine?” She laughed bitterly. “Luck is a terrible thing... whether human or fairy, you can see people’s fates written plainly in their eyes.” Her gaze shifted to Inaho as she spoke the last bit, and he was certain now that this was the pearl-haired fairy in human form. He would never have guessed that she was a changeling girl, whom he might have met in this form in the past and never knew. She picked up her yarn again. “So, what is it? What have you come to demand of me?”
Inaho did not let the opportunity slip by and promptly made his request. “Please lift the curse you placed on me ten years ago.”
Her eyes narrowed a fraction and she purled an entire row before speaking. “That was no curse.”
“Was it an accident, then?” inquired Slaine, for some reason getting involved. He had stopped staring holes into the floor and was now looking straight at her.
“It was intentional. I saw a child in danger, and I protected it. That is all.”
“You don’t seem very fond of people. Why would you protect him?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “A whim, I suppose. Or perhaps it was revenge on the girls and boys who also found joy in tormenting the one other child that was not like them. Do you remember me, Inaho? I remember you.”
The girl with the blue-green eyes. He only remembered seeing her once, but perhaps he had been too caught up in his own misery to notice her, if she had truly been there the whole time. Whether revenge or protection, he could not resent her answer. And if not for the catastrophic effect the spell had had on his own life, he might even have been understanding. In the end, nothing would ever have been worth Yuki’s life. It was never worth his mother’s. And now, more than ever, he was realizing that if he remained this way any longer, he would never be able to stay near someone like Slaine, regardless of whether or not he was accepted. The closer he came to anyone, the more urgent it would be that he put distance between them again. It was too dangerous.
“If whatever purpose you had then is now fulfilled,” he said, “please undo the spell.”
The fire crackled noisily on the hearth, accompanied by the quiet clack and scrape of her needles. Not a word passed between them. Slaine appeared lost in thought, his eyes downcast and uncertain.
“And what about you, Slaine?” The sudden sound of her voice drew both of the boys’ gazes back to her. “Why have you come here, after all these years?”
Slaine pressed his lips together, and did not look away this time. “I’ve come to bring you home.”
❋❋❋
Slaine had known that she would likely not be willing to return to the place that had once rejected her, but he had hoped she would, nonetheless. The mocking smile that curled at her lips as she carefully tied two strands of yarn together was a confirmation of her disinterest.
“Home, you say? This is my home.”
“Your sister, Princess Asseylum, wishes above all else to see you and-”
“It’s too late to make amends now. If she wished to see me, she would have come herself.”
Slaine shook his head. “I am the one that convinced her not to come, because I was afraid the journey would be too much for her. She’s been very anxious ever since discovering that you were given away as a baby, and that no one had ever told her of your existence until she found out by mistake. I assure you that she wants nothing more than to meet you now that she’s learned the truth. You are her one and only sister, after all.”
Lemrina pursed her lips and gave a small huff, though the look in her eyes confirmed that Slaine’s words came as a surprise to her. “What sort of story did they tell her, I wonder…” she muttered, dropping her gaze.
“The same as they told me. I was mercifully rescued from abandonment, and taken in by the fairies as one of their own. And you… you never existed.”
No one said anything more for a while, and Slaine was beginning to think she would toss them out after all, given the displeased look she was giving her yarn. But then she gave a heavy sigh and said, “How about a compromise? I will either remove the spell from Inaho, and Slaine will remain here with me, or I will return to the Glade, and the spell remains. Slaine, you will decide.”
Slaine felt his stomach twist at those words. A quick glance at Inaho did not help matters, as the boy was looking expectantly back at him, expression unreadable.
“Take your time and think about it,” said Lemrina, standing up and putting away her knitting. Then she opened a door at the far end of the room and disappeared through it, returning a few minutes later with a wand. It was not like the ones from the Glade, all silvery and forged of the purest silver and crystal, but rather made of wood, as though someone had whittled it until it was smooth and fit in one’s hand comfortably. She moved some things aside to clear a space before the fire, and then with a soft intake of breath, she lifted her wand, eyes closed, and produced a feather mattress and warm blankets with a few whispered words.
“Even I would hardly put you out on a night like this,” she defended, when Slaine gave her a skeptical look. “It’ll rain soon, and there’s not many hours left till dawn, anyway. You ought to sleep.”
❋❋❋
When she had left the room, Slaine turned to offer the bed to Inaho, perhaps as some form of apology for this situation, but the words never left his mouth. With Lemrina’s departure, Inaho had wilted, and suddenly looked very distressed. Slaine’s lips pressed in a line, and he was afraid that if he spoke he would only do further damage, or worse, meet with a glare filled with a decade’s worth of repressed resentment, which had now found another worthy target. He stood and glanced around the room for a suitable place to lay down. The sofa was the most comfortable looking option, especially since it was reasonably close to the fire, but lying down on it would require asking Inaho move, which he was in no way prepared to do. He would simply have to wait for Inaho to speak, or move, or do something other than sit in dismal silence.
Slaine was just turning to sit down again, when suddenly Inaho stood and began removing thick layers of outer clothing. It was getting a little stuffy, since they were still bundled from their trek, but Slaine still felt a lurch of panic as his mind connected ‘pent up resentment’ with what Inaho was actually capable of doing to him if he so chose. And then he realized that Lemrina had not actually given him the decision at all.
He had already concluded earlier that Inaho would do anything to regain his normalcy… would he? Do anything…? Perhaps his distress was due to the anticipation of having to kill one more time. One last victim, a sacrifice to free himself and protect the one person he truly cared about.
Slaine took a step back as Inaho pulled off his gloves, stumbling over the curved leg of the sofa and falling to the floor. Inaho’s eyes followed him, but he did not move from where he stood neatly folding his cloak. Rather than bitterness, the look Slaine was met with was disillusionment.
“You’re afraid of me now, after all…” Inaho said quietly, crestfallen, as though he had just confirmed a growing suspicion. “I suppose you have no reason to believe me, but I won’t do anything. You were the one tasked with deciding, so you should choose what’s best for you.”
“B-but… you…” Slaine fumbled, ashamed of himself for allowing fear to cloud his judgement, when Inaho had never been anything but generous to him. The terror of a moment before had vanished, and now more than ever he felt terrible about all of this, about the ointment, about everything that had happened since meeting Inaho in the woods yesterday. Did everything work in his favor because of luck, as Lemrina said, or was it because he was selfish, and Inaho was not? He had never wanted for anything, never had any real problems until a week ago, and even now everything settled conveniently into place for him. He had also never disappointed, or abandoned, or betrayed Asseylum. The idea of doing all three at once was terrifying.
Inaho seemed to notice the dread and doubt welling up in him, and offered an encouraging smile. “I have no intention of giving up. I have connections now… if it’s not too much trouble, would you mention my wish to Princess Asseylum? Perhaps she can help me, instead.”
“But…” Slaine wasn’t so sure, given that the method by which spells were removed was often closely linked to how they were initially cast, and so Lemrina might actually be the only fairy with the knowledge to undo it. If anyone else was skilled enough to succeed, it was Asseylum, but that was still a risky assumption.
“I’ve been living like this for most of my life,” reasoned Inaho, “I’ll be fine a while longer. You’ve never lived outside the Glade, would you really be alright living in the middle of nowhere, with only a stranger who trapped you into staying here for a companion?”
Slaine got to his feet again and began taking off his own winter clothes as the warmth from the fire in the small room began to make him sweat. “I’m sure she’s just lonely…” he said, and truly believed it.
Inaho shook his head. “If that was all, she would go with you without conditions. She’s only toying with us.”
“Perhaps, but that’s only because of how she’s been forced to live all this time.” He wasn’t sure that he should be defending her, since Inaho was likely correct, but she was still Asseylum’s sister. He couldn’t just assume the worst about her.
“You think too well of people,” warned Inaho as he set his shoes by the door, the last of his outer clothing, “that’s dangerous.”
“And you doubt them too easily.”
“When people are afraid of you, you see their true nature more often. But I suppose you’ve had more experience with people in general than I have.”
Slaine laughed bitterly and sat down on the sofa again. “I’m sure I have, but I’ve started to wonder recently whether the love and kindness I received from everyone at the Glade was simply a facade for their fear of my position as the future royal consort. I should be less trusting after learning just how extensively I’ve been lied to all my life, but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be.”
Inaho sat as well, looking pensive. “I see. In the end, you weren’t actually all that lucky.”
“No, I was. I won’t pretend that my life wasn’t perfect in nearly every way. This changes little, fundamentally, but it does hurt. I probably deserve it, for what became of Lemrina because of me.”
“Don’t you think it could be the other way around? Are you sure that if you were in your proper homes, with your own parents, you both wouldn’t have had a good life? It’s when others tamper with the way things ought to be that people become lucky or unlucky. Before that, life is simply the choices we make.”
Slaine wasn’t sure he entirely believed that. Sure, choices played a role, but there was chance involved, too. “It sounds like you had it pretty bad before this spell, though,” he pointed out, “Are you saying that was your fault?”
“It was. I could have spoken up about it, but I didn’t. In the end, my attempt to spare my mother’s feelings was precisely what shattered them. My silence killed her.”
Slaine frowned, drawing his knees up to his chest. So, his mother... “You’re awfully hard on yourself. Besides, if your life was fine, you wouldn’t have been targeted in the first place. Obviously there were things beyond your control even back then.”
“... maybe.”
Silence settled between them, and Slaine glanced at the mattress. They should probably sleep. They had been awake since dawn, nearly an entire day, and he was beginning to really feel it. Inaho had been yawning for the past half hour, as well.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he announced, taking one of the blankets from the bed and pulling it over him before Inaho could object. “You’ve never slept in one before, right?” he added with a smirk. He had noted that Inaho’s home only had straw mattresses, and figured feather was probably too expensive for a commoner to own. At home, Slaine slept on a dandelion down mattress, which was probably more comfortable than anything in the human world anyway, but he wasn’t about to mention that. In any case, the single mattress seemed to confirm Inaho’s theory that Lemrina was, in fact, toying with them. It was actually large enough for two, but she knew perfectly well that they couldn’t share it.
Slaine closed his eyes. The sound of the fire on the hearth, and the steady rain that had begun to fall outside, lulled him softly to sleep.
“Thank you,” he heard just as he was drifting off.
Slaine shook his head, opening his eyes. “There’s no need. Anything I’ve done was for my own benefit, too. I should be thanking you...”
The rain poured down harder, making him even more grateful for the roof over their heads and the warm fire close by. Inaho looked exceptionally comfortable in the fluffy bed, with the blanket pulled up to his chin.
“You considered my wish in earnest,” he said, catching Slaine’s gaze and smiling warmly, “You could have given her an answer immediately, but you didn’t. You’re very kind to me. Thank you.”
❋❋❋
Inaho sighed contentedly. The bed was very comfortable, and he was sure he must have been sleeping in it for far too long, but the dreamless slumber he’d been blessed with until gently waking just now was the best he’d had in years. The fire had not reduced to embers, as he would have expected, but rather continued tirelessly burning on the hearth. He rolled to his opposite side to get a better estimate of the time of day, and also to see whether Slaine had awoken already. A bit of dread hit him as he recalled the discussion of the night before, and the implications it held for him, and more importantly Yuki.
He blinked lazily, taking in that it was still daytime, as far as he could tell, though it was difficult to discern much more with the shutters closed. The primary object of his attention was the deterioration that had completed in his left eye. He reached up on reflex to touch it, perhaps an instinct to make sure it was still there, though he already understood what had happened. He had done it to himself willingly. Now he wondered for what. In the end, he had still failed.
The soft thud of footsteps approached from somewhere behind him and before he could inquire who it was or what time of day he had slept to, Slaine was crouching in front of him, a cheerful glow in his eyes.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile, “did you rest well?”
Inaho nodded his head suspiciously. Something was off, though nothing seemed particularly wrong, especially given the excitement Slaine was now exuding. Inaho sank further under the blanket, pulse racing every time Slaine teetered towards him on the dubious balance of his toes. He did not want to ask what made Slaine so happy, because despite everything he had said, giving up his own request was possibly the hardest thing he’d ever done. Seeing Slaine’s vibrant eyes so exuberant was both painful and reassuring.
“Inaho?” Slaine leaned closer and peered at him with concern, “do you feel alright?”
He wasn’t entirely sure why he should not be feeling alright, but he nodded in answer and attempted to avert his gaze. Physically, he was very comfortable, but in everything else he was far from it. Slaine’s head angled to get a better view of him, following his eyes like a curious bird, and Inaho had never wanted so badly to touch someone.
“You’d best let him be for a while,” said Lemrina, though he had not seen or heard her enter the room. Perhaps she had approached from his blind side; it would be awhile before his other senses bridged the gap. “Slaine, I’m sure you’re acquainted with the physical effects of removing a spell that has been in place for so long. He’ll need some time to rest.”
Inaho blinked at her. Removing a spell? From whom? He looked up at Slaine again, and this time noticed the fairy perched on his shoulder. Her soft, pearly hair curved around her face in exactly the way he remembered it, while two tiny, jewel-like eyes watched him with guarded interest. His hand flew automatically to his right eye, though there was no way he could have detected whether there was ointment in it or not.
“I haven’t done anything to your eyes,” assured Lemrina, “this home is a magical space.”
Inaho closed his eyes to think. Had she really removed the curse? If so, then that meant Slaine had chosen his request after all. It crossed his mind that it could all just be a terrible joke, like those pranks the children used to play on him, where they would pretend to be kind to him and then laugh in his face when he foolishly believed it, but he couldn’t bear to think that Slaine was capable of something so cruel.
“Why did you do it?” he asked, voice muffled by the blanket.
The floorboards creaked as Slaine settled on them, sitting down more comfortably.
“I couldn’t leave you that way. It’s okay, though… when I gave her my answer… well, you were right. She was toying with us, just not in the way that we thought.”
“Testing. It was the quickest way to determine what sort of people you really are,” Lemrina defended, “I have no interest in helping those who only care about themselves.”
“You’ll be going with Slaine to the Glade, then?” asked Inaho.
Lemrina coughed a little and looked away. “I suppose…” she answered vaguely, and then quickly added, “but if I don’t like it, I’m returning home.”
❋❋❋
It had been several hours since Inaho awoke, and still he said nothing. Lemrina had decided that they would depart for the Glade in two days time, though Inaho was of course welcome to return home whenever he pleased. Slaine was hesitant to let him make the trek back to the village on his own, but in the end it was up to Inaho to decide. In any case, Inaho did not seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere, and kept mostly to himself in a chair by the fire. Only when suppertime arrived did he stir from his aloof state and offer to help with meal preparations. Lemrina was not particularly talkative, either, but he found she was far more pleasant company than he would have imagined given her reputation. It made him happy to know that this was Asseylum’s sister, and that the two would be reunited very soon.
When it was time for bed again, and Lemrina retired to her bedroom, Slaine finally mustered the courage to ask Inaho if something was wrong. Lemrina did say that he might feel listless for a day or so as his body readjusted to its freedom from the spell, but it didn’t seem like that was the issue.
“I’m afraid to believe it,” answered Inaho with unexpected directness. “If she’s lying-”
“Then there would have been no point in your going to such lengths to ask it of her. You have to trust, Inaho.”
Inaho stared vacantly at the fire, his thumbs slowly circling each other in his lap. “It’s dangerous…” he murmured.
Slaine sighed. “I know.”
If Inaho was too afraid to confirm the truth, then Slaine knew he would simply have to confirm it instead, and began looking for the right time to do so. It would be a bad idea to frighten him by being too overt.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight,” Inaho announced, and then waited for Slaine to move off of the furniture so that he could lie down on it.
Slaine did not budge. “There’s no reason to switch, I’m perfectly comfortable where I am.”
It took some more convincing, but eventually Inaho did lie down on the mattress and closed his eyes. Slaine waited until he was asleep before tiptoeing from the sofa to the mattress, and crawling carefully inside. Inaho stirred slightly, but did not wake. Now that he was so close, suddenly Slaine began to doubt Lemrina, as well. He was almost positive that she should have no reason to deceive them, but that small part of uncertainty kept him neatly on his side of the bed for a long time. Eventually, wrapped in warmth and soothed by the crackling fire and the soft breathing just beside him, he drifted off to sleep without ever verifying her words.
❋❋❋
“Slaine?! Slaine!” The frantic repetition of his name roused Slaine from sleep, and he blinked confusedly at the person calling it. It was still dark, and the fire cast flickering shadows all over the room.
“Hm? Inaho?” he yawned, wondering why he was being woken in the middle of the night.
Inaho collapsed back onto the mattress and buried his face in blankets. “You’re... alive…” he murmured. “Why… why did you…”
So much for not scaring him. The plan seemed to have backfired somewhat, but at least they now knew that Lemrina had not lied. Or at least he assumed they did, because he must have been asleep during any contact between them. Just to be doubly sure, and seizing a brief moment of fortitude, he reached out a finger and poked Inaho’s forehead, which was the only visible part of him. Inaho pulled back and ducked under the blankets entirely.
“Inaho~” Slaine called softly. He peeked under the blanket to be sure Inaho was alright, but it was too dark to see anything. “I’m fine, see? I’m talking to you, so I’m fine. You’re really free of it.”
Inaho said nothing, and after a few minutes had passed Slaine thought he might have fallen asleep again. That, or he was still reeling in shock. But then he heard the gentle rustle of fabric and felt the blankets move just a little, and a warm hand tentatively touch his arm. He shifted a bit just to assure Inaho that he was still breathing.
Slowly, fingers curled over his arm and rested there, and he heard Inaho sigh softly. “You’re too reckless…” A pink face emerged from under the blankets and looked at him with something between relief and disapproval.
“Maybe,” Slaine admitted, “but if I didn’t do something you’d have continued living year after year under a curse that no longer exists.” To him, and to most others, touch was something that occurred naturally on a daily basis - a helping hand extended, the embrace of a friend, the brush of arms while sitting side by side, an affectionate pat on the head. He could not fathom being so utterly starved as Inaho had been for the past ten years. Continuing on that way out of fear would have been a tragedy. “Besides,” he added, “better me than your sister.”
“No,” Inaho countered immediately, shaking his head, “you’re important to me, too.”
Slaine wasn’t sure whether to humor him or laugh and deny it. “You’ve only known me for two days,” he pointed out instead.
“Why does that matter?”
Slaine opened his mouth to reply that two days wasn’t nearly enough time to consider someone as important as family, especially when one had such a cynical view of people in general, but the complete sincerity in Inaho’s eyes as he inquired why that wasn’t enough time made Slaine begin to second guess himself. Maybe the truth was that he didn’t want any ties with someone he was preparing to part ways with, in all likelihood never to see again. But now he realized it was too late for that. He would never forget Inaho, the selfless boy who had looked out for him, the one who had been prepared to give up his most precious wish so that he could be happy. Slaine inched further under the blanket, feeling the soft warmth of an arm link through his, and mumbled, “You’re the one who’s kind.”
A pleasant breeze brought the aroma of honeysuckle and trumpet flowers in from the lattice outside the open window, carrying with it the sounds of spring. Inside the cottage, the warm scent of bread wafted up from the oven as Inaho reached in to remove the fresh, steaming loaf. In some ways, everything had changed since that day. In others, nothing had changed at all. Inaho found himself living a life much the same as he always had, milling industriously about the house and garden, and keeping away from the villagers who would never believe the miracle that Slaine had given him. Yet for what it was worth, though the loneliness crept deeper than it ever had before, and the days seemed emptier somehow, he no longer felt the gnawing dread and anxiety that had governed his life for so many years. He knew the truth, if they didn’t. And most importantly, Yuki was safe. The glow in her amber eyes, every smile and embrace she had given him since his return, was worth the paltry loss of half his sight. He wished it wasn’t also the gain and loss of the only friend he’d ever had.
Nothing could ever quite compare to the quiet, uneventful comfort of home, but ever since they parted ways, Inaho found himself wondering what had become of Slaine during all these months. He supposed the two Princesses had been reunited, hopefully with success. If Slaine was meant to wed Princess Asseylum, he could be preparing for his marriage by now. He wasn’t sure at what age fairies were considered fit to wed, but his guess was that Asseylum must be a few years his senior, if Lemrina was his equal, and she might be eager to proceed with the union the moment Slaine came of age. It all sounded very nice, having family and new family come together happily at last.
He was looking out of the window at the budding trees, which swayed gently against the backdrop of a cloudless sky, birds twittering busily amongst their branches, when a knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. He stood up to answer it, and the moment he reached the door, his attention was called back to the window.
“Is that bread?!” said Slaine, peering in. His eyes were fixed on the loaf and he looked fully prepared to climb right through the window to take it.
“It’s very hot,” Inaho quickly warned as Slaine actually did hoist himself through the open frame and trotted right over to the table. In his concern for the safety of Slaine’s mouth, he forgot to be surprised by the sudden appearance of someone he thought he’d never see again. Eventually gathering his thoughts while Slaine seated himself in a chair, he asked the obvious: “What are you doing here?”
Slaine looked up at him, and then sheepishly twisted a strand of hair between his fingers. “Er… I’m actually… I’d like to… I’ve… I’ve come to live with humans,” he finally said it, and then looked away quickly. “Would it be okay if I… stayed here for a little while… just until I find someplace to live…?”
“There’s no need to look elsewhere. You already have a place to live.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he’d really thought about them, but he didn’t regret it.
Slaine seemed confused by his answer and tilted his head. “I’m not sure what you-”
“Stay here. Stay with me.”
Teal eyes blinked at him in surprise. “A-are you… sure? But there’s no room for me…”
“I’ll make room.”
Slaine stared at him for a long time before his expression slowly softened. He smiled, a faint blush at his cheeks. “What if I don’t want to stay with you-”
“Then why did you come back?” Why else would Slaine leave his royal life behind to come live amongst humans he didn’t know? What could be the reason except that Slaine had wanted to see him again?
Slaine gnawed at his bottom lip as he turned away, an agitated look in his eyes. Without a word, he stood and paced across the kitchen to the adjoining bedroom, peering in critically and leaning heavily on the doorframe. His soft, pale arms rested crossed against the thin fabric of his shirt, catching the afternoon light.
Inaho moved as though under some new spell, his mind tangled in a daydream. He was standing beside Slaine now, he wanted to reach out, but his body would move no further, hands stubbornly drawn in to his sides. A habit, a fear he still could not ignore.
“I suppose…” Slaine said suddenly, slowly, still looking away, and Inaho felt a warm hand slip into his. Fingers laced lazily, palm against palm. “I suppose I came because I wanted to choose my own life. I wanted to live where you are.”
Inaho smiled, and drew their hands up, pressing the back of Slaine's to his cheek. “Then it's fine.” He reached out his other hand to touch Slaine's face; warm, unfamiliar, no longer forbidden. There were no more reasons to keep away. His hand dropped to Slaines chest, searching for the gentle thrum of his heart, and he curled into him quietly. Slaine's arms came up around him, and slowly, seeping into him, settling warm and comfortable like sunshine on his skin, a feeling took the place of the loneliness that had carved itself in him so deeply. He sighed contentedly. “We can start over together.”
Fin
｡.:*☆☆*:.｡
Author’s Note
Thank you for taking the time to read this story - I hope it was enjoyable! I’m not very good with short stories, so it was a struggle from start to finish, and there’s a good bit I would’ve liked to develop more thoroughly (their cultural differences, Slaine’s life, the Areash family’s involvement, etc etc). Originally I had something different in mind for the direction of the plot (a lighter story overall, if “hellish” would have allowed), but it sort of took off on its own, and there really is nothing for it when Inaho decides to angst it up. Luckily(?) for Slaine, that wound up giving him a pretty enviable fake life by contrast. :’D
I’d like to thank Ryoku for her encouragement in this and all my writing endeavors, and for taking pity on me and helping me hash out some kind of workable idea for this after my months of floundering between a dozen other potential AUs. And many thanks to Astor, as well, for sticking around and supporting me throughout all my daily, incessant whining and despairing, even when I ignored the very sound advice to withdraw if it was getting to be too stressful. I’m very glad to have been able to complete a piece in time, and I’d never have been able to do it without them.
A final thanks to Rosiel for her tireless dedication to this project and support of all the writers & artists involved. Even long before the Orangebat games, she has always been one of the kindest, most faithful readers and commenters on all of my fics, for which I am incredibly grateful. ♡
It’s time for the movie trailer sneak peek shot, the first picture from
Λldnoah Zero ∞【Inaho ✖ Slaine】Unofficial Novel Anthology #01
is here!
The theme of 2017 is:
【Heavenly ∞ Hellish】
*This is a fanbase project dedicated to us all Inaho x Slaine fans.
The newly written stories are contributed by our beloved 10+ authors in the theme of this year, Heavenly ∞ Hellish, and will be posted in OrangeBat Sanctuary website.
Thank you very much to zehel-san for all the fan arts contribution!
The cover illustration of this anthology will show up soon near Slaine’s birthday with more news and game play and prize!♥
Also, please look forward for the coming up teaser~
