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greeenchrysanthemums · 6 months ago

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Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 7: Distrust and Fear + Picture Books

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

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Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: violence, mentioned starvation, mentioned death, minor animal death, tension

Words: 10,764

Pov: Pearl + Gem

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“Stay safe out there.” Bigb said as he pulled the cloak - black instead of her usual red - tighter around her shoulders in the same way Pearl imagined a mother would for a child they were sending out to play or run errands.

“This isn’t my first time doing this.” Pearl said with a fond roll of her eyes.

“Of course it isn’t. You’re a seasoned veteran in this type of work. That doesn’t stop me from caring for your wellbeing.” He said before pulling the hood up and over her eyes, messing up her hair and momentarily blinding her in the process.

“Hey!” She snorted.

She fixed her hood and smoothed her hair back underneath it to keep the locks out of her eyes. She straightened the thigh strap that held her daggers and then tightened it, letting the cloak fall back into place afterwards. While the weapons were mostly hidden, they were obvious to anyone that looked hard enough. Innocent and unassuming at first glance, but deadly upon a further look; as was her brand.

She detested having to use the daggers, even with how easy they were to conceal and keep up an innocent image with. Her usual choice of weapon would be a scythe, in fact it was the only weapon she felt she was proficient in. However, it was far too difficult to carry around when she was trying to be sneaky, so... daggers it was.

“I better head out before it gets too much later.” Pearl said with a sigh.

“You don’t have the advantage of cloud cover tonight either, so you better go before the moon gets too high in the sky. It’s a full moon tonight, so it’ll be fairly bright out.” Bigb said before settling down into the cushiony seat that sat near a candle by the window.

“Just the way I like it.” Pearl said with a devilish smile. She waved Bigb goodbye before opening the window and settling her boots on the sill. She exhaled before dropping down into the night, her cloak billowing out around her as she fell.

Her smile dropped from her face as she touched down and began walking towards the outskirts of town, where the large forest that surrounded the kingdom was. The moon and the castle framed her from behind as the wind nipped at her fingers and the cold of the cobble she strode upon seeped in through her tattered boots to numb her toes.

As far as Bigb knew - as far as anyone knew - she was heading to the castle to do a little bit of reconnaissance before the big day of the party. She, however, had other plans for the night, more important plans that pertained to their dear leader in a different way. She wanted to feel bad for lying to Bigb about her whereabouts, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was long past feeling guilt for sneaking around behind the backs of people close to her. It was part of who she was at this point, a habit she picked up at a young age and never was able to shake. It had kept her alive thus far, though, so was there really a need to feel any sort of guilt? It was just survival.

There was hardly a soul in sight with how late it was but still she kept to the shadows as she went, not making a sound even as Tilly silently moved to join her from wherever it was that the wolf-hound had been lurking until that point.

Soon the humming buzz of the city limits gave way to the thrum of life as her feet transitioned from the hard cobble of civilization to soft soil and crunching mulch of the forest. Crickets singing, birds chirping, movement rustling in the underbrush, and the noise of stray animals all reached her ears as the smell of crisp, unfiltered winter filled her nostrils.

“Alright, girl, lead the way.” Pearl whispered to Tilly, giving the old dog a pat on the head as her tail wagged and her tongue lolled out past her large teeth. Tilly didn’t have to be told twice as she raised her snoot into the air, taking a few big sniffs before letting out a low yip, taking off into the forest on quick paws.

Pearl followed behind her old companion at a similar speed, keeping her body close to the ground as she went. The wind whistled through the bare trees and snow sodden leaves flattened under the pounding pressure of their feet in a drum-like rhythm. They traveled so far into the heart of the woods that Pearl would have feared they were going the wrong way if the guide had been anyone other than Tilly. The old dog’s powerful nose had never once been wrong Pearl's entire life, and she couldn’t foresee that changing any time soon, even with old age setting in.

The forest grew more and more unkempt the deeper they went. Gnarled trees grew thicker in width, their large roots swelling from the dirt like waves upon the ground. Long, twisting branches hung low enough to leap over. It was a terrain that would be difficult to undertake with any less experience than Pearl herself possessed. As it was, she maneuvered through the forest with practiced ease.

The cold of the winter air whipping through her hair as she ran and the light of the full moon beaming down onto her were among the most freeing feelings she’d ever experienced in her life. It always felt like she and Tilly were the only beings in the world

Unfortunately, it was hard to enjoy the feeling on tonight of all nights, because they were not simply out for an evening run. Instead, they were here in the heart of this forest to spy on their leader to find out what he was keeping from them after weeks- no, months - of obvious dishonesty.

Up until this point, she had put too much faith into Grian, hoping that he was just under a lot of stress and that was the reason for his strange behavior. She wanted nothing more than to play the part of dutiful informant for him to help further his cause, their cause. However, as time went on, the job began to feel more and more slimy and wrong. Even when putting her doubts revolving around screwing over Gem aside, none of it felt right anymore. She could no longer overlook how dirty the job made her feel, how cruel Grian felt in his intentions and actions.

She shook the thought of Gem out of her mind. The all-consuming guilt was better saved for another night

So, while her heart raced with the adrenaline of the run, of the hunt, it also ached. A grief-like feeling boiled in her blood and gripped her lungs like a deadly pair of talons that sought to tear her apart from the inside. She couldn’t believe it had come to this, sneaking around and stalking after someone who was once her best friend.

But it had come to it.

Grian wasn’t the same person that he was when she had met him in her youth. There was barely any proof that the mischievous but kindhearted avian had ever existed. In his place was a cagey, dismissive, untrusting, and suspicious person. Where in her heart was once trust and adoration, there was now only wariness and a bitter sense of resentment that seemed to grow day by day.

She had already made up her mind to find out the truth for herself by any means necessary long ago, it had only been a matter of when and where it would happen. It had felt like a prime piece of meat had been handed to her on a golden platter when Mumbo had let slip while she was visiting him the previous weekend that he believed Grian would be meeting with his man on the inside on the night of the full moon, just a day before their next group meeting.

He knew he made a mistake mentioning it to her immediately after the words left his mouth and refused to give up any other information, so she hadn’t been able to confirm anything right up until Tilly smelt Grian’s presence enter and then exit the city limits just as the sun began to set.

Pearl knew she had arrived almost instantly, and she skidded to a horrified halt.

The aura of the forest changed from one foot fall to the next. The comforting buzz of life from the forest was extinguished abruptly like a candle blown out in the wind, replaced by a static silence that buzzed in her ears so loud that she had the overwhelming urge to cover her ears, and she would have if not for the fact that she felt frozen in place, unable to move even a single inch.

The air became thick and oppressive, pressing in on her from all angles like it was a physical presence. She could practically feel it crawling along her skin like a dozen centipedes. Her stomach dropped and a cold sweat broke out along her whole body. It became impossible to breathe.

This was magic stronger than anything she thought was possible. She could basically taste it on her tongue, thick like molasses but not nearly as sweet.

After the introduction of the grimoire into the mix, Pearl knew that Grian was dabbling in magic, but it was supposed to be a dying art. The strongest caster Pearl knew was Tango, and he could barely do more than summon enough fire to start a small bonfire. This amount of magic? It was unthinkable. It was dangerous. It was terrifying.

Tilly let out a low whine at her feet and it snapped Pearl out of her stupor. She gulped, her throat tight. She trembled lightly as she lowered herself down to run her hands through Tilly’s thick winter coat to ground herself. She took a few shaky breaths as she hunkered down into the underbrush with the old dog, praying that her moment of fear hadn’t caused her to be detected by whatever this was.

She tried to steal her nerves, her stomach twisting in knots. She knew that in order for her to get what she came for, she would have to venture further into this disgusting mass of magic.

Her mouth was dry as she began to move, and she swallowed in an attempt to bring some moisture back. She stayed crouched at Tilly’s height, holding onto the wolf-dog to keep her balance as she carefully guided the two of them further into the forest, now stepping carefully over the overgrown roots and taking more care to not step on twigs or leaves. They were in dangerous territory now; they could not afford to make any more noise than they already had.

She prayed to whatever force might be out there that whatever kind of magic this was, it could not detect her presence simply by virtue of her being there.

Unease settled on her like a slimy film, and she could not deny that she had thoughts of turning back now while she still had the chance. She had already come this far, though, she could not give up now simply because she was letting herself succumb to fear.

Her heart almost stopped in her chest as the low murmur of voices finally reached her ears. The volume slowly increased as she inched closer towards what she could only assume was the epicenter of this cluster of magic if the way it clung to her skin like tar was anything to go by. She halted her movement when the voices became loud enough for her to make out the words being said.

“- everything you asked for! This is small by comparison!” A voice shouted into the night.

“I would hardly call this a small request!” Pearl’s heart jumped at the familiar sound of Grian’s voice. He sounded frustrated

It appeared that she had arrived right in the middle of an argument of sorts. She crawled behind a tree with a trunk big enough to hide her body, braced her hands on the rough bark, and leaned to the side to try and catch a peek.

There, in a small clearing no bigger than a few yards in either direction, stood three cloaked figures under the light of the full moon. All of their hoods were up, and their faces obscured. She could clearly make out Grian among them, his short stature and hunched posture as he crouched upon a fallen tree were dead giveaways of his identity. She couldn’t make out enough of the other two figures to decide their identities, but one of them held a book open in their hand.

She quickly ducked back to be hidden fully by the trunk. She decided that with their positioning and their obscured face the likelihood of Pearl being caught was higher than her chances of catching a glimpse of Grian’s double man. Or double men? There were two figures, after all.

She closed her eyes and focussed back in on the conversation happening.

“I know for a fact that he has the ability to do it. Put that damn book to use and accept my conditions or this all ends here and now! ” The other voice bit out.

Pearl furrowed her brows. The voice sounded so very familiar and yet she could not place where she had heard it before. Tension grew in the already uneasy air as neither of them made a single noise, before Grian finally huffed, a displeased groan following the sound.

“You are making things a lot harder than they have to be.” He said. Pearl could perfectly envision him rubbing the spot between his eyes.

“I’m not denying that.” The other agreed. “But I am not backing down until you agree.”

“I cannot make any promises that it’ll work,” Scar’s voice suddenly interjected, causing Pearl’s whole body to tense even further. Tilly’s fur bristled under her palm. The man had always unsettled the both of them. In conjunction with the fact that the man had no scent, there was just something about him that was off, something that felt almost inhuman.

Grian had also claimed that he went to these meetings alone. No one else in the resistance was supposed to know the identity of the double agent. Grian had very adamantly refused to tell any of them.

“But I will do what I can, you have my word on that.” Scar continued.

“A chance, that’s all that I ask for.” The mysterious voice said, almost pleading.

“And a chance you will get!” Scar bolstered loudly, his voice bouncing around in the stagnant air. A chance at what?

“Now that we’ve agreed to your ridiculous terms, will you answer my question?” Grian snarked.

“I don’t appreciate that jab, but yes, preparations are all ready. As long as there are no further screw ups on your end, everything should go well.”

“Jab for jab, I see.” Grian said, now sounding slightly amused.

“I am only stating the truth. Your people left all sorts of obvious clues all over the castle, even after I made it almost laughably easy for you to be able to get the grimoire from the library.”

“If you’re done talking about my team's incompetence, can you hand over what I came for?” Grian asked.

Pearl heard the rustling of paper as the inside man presumably handed over some kind of delicate information. She bared her teeth, lip curling back at the subtle insult that was made at her expense. Getting into the castle relatively undetected was not nearly as easy as they were making it out to be. She was far from incompetent.

“And Gem herself made these?” Grian said, the parchment still ruffling, as if he was flipping through it. Pearl’s ears involuntarily perked up at the mention of the royal commander.

“That she did, though I have made some minor adjustments for your benefit.” The other replied, and then they continued. “I actually have one more question before we end this meeting.”

Grian paused, “What is it? Do you have yet another impossible request to ask of me?”

“Something like that,” They replied simply.

“Oh? Well, don’t leave me in suspense.”

“How long are you going to keep everyone in the dark? When are you going to start telling the truth?” They asked. Grian, at first, didn’t respond. Pearl heard him shuffle, his talons scrapping roughly against bark.

“...You are well aware of the reason the rest of the resistance can’t know your identity-”

“You know that's not what I mean,” They interrupted, “When are you going to tell the truth about everything.”

Pearl perked up, her eyes darting to the side even though it did nothing to help her see. This was what she had been waiting for. She already had confirmation that Grian was keeping things from them in the form of Scar’s deeper inclusion, but now she had further confirmation that he was keeping something more from them. Something big.

“They don’t need to know.” Grian replied without missing a beat, his tone harsh.

“They deserve to know. This is far too big of a deal to keep it a secret so close to doomsday, especially with their lives in the palm of your hands!” They tried to reason, their voice raising.

“I said they don’t need to know!” Grian shouted over the other, causing Pearl to jump, her shoulders going to her ears. Tilly emitted a low growl that Pearl quickly hushed. She had never heard Grian sound so angry, so…desperate before in her life.

“You know as well as I do that’s not true.” The other person responded in a low tone. “If thing’s go south, if even one little mistake occurs everything we’ve worked for, everything that’s led up to this, will all be for nothing.”

“It won’t come to that.” Grian all but whispered.

Pearl was so invested in the conversation that she barely noticed Tilly’s ears perking up, the old dog now at high attention. She thought nothing of it as Tilly pulled away from her to disappear into the underbrush, she simply moved her hand to clutch at the front of her cloak in place of Tilly’s fur.

“You don’t know that!” They shouted in response. “If you don’t tell them before D-day, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Grian interrupted harshly, “You’ll tell them for me? You know the second your involvement is revealed that worst case scenario you mentioned will be a reality for sure. You have less cards in this game than you believe you do. They don’t need to know.”

Grian ground out that last part of his sentence, putting heavy emphasis on every single word to drive his stance home. A sick feeling swirled in Pearl’s stomach

“You’re a bastard.” The other person spat, not arguing against Grian’s point.

“I think it’s best we cut this meeting here.” Grian responded dully, leaving no room for argument. “All we’ve done tonight is go in circles and fight with each other. We’re getting nowhere with any of this.”

“There you go, running away again.”

“Enough. Scar, you can drop the barrier now. We’re leaving.” Grian said.

“Alrighty!” Scar’s chipper voice replied.

“They’re going to find out one way or another, Grian. You’d do well to lighten the blow for yourself while you still can.” The mysterious person said, only to be met with no response.

The book shut with a loud snap. Pearl had to stop herself from gasping as the feeling of magic disappeared suddenly and abruptly, pulled from the very air with violent force. The sounds of the night rushed back in an instant, now overly loud in her ears after being deprived of them for an extended period. She clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment before snapping them open again, unwilling to let herself be caught off guard. Black dots danced in her vision.

In the time she had adjusted to the absence of magic, a more natural silence had fallen over the forest thicket, though the unease still sat heavy in her stomach. Cautiously, oh so cautiously, she leaned her back against the tree further and peeked around the bend, trying to gauge whether or not she was alone.

Her eyes widened and she immediately drew back with a choked off gasp.

Grian and Scar were nowhere to be seen, evidently having left while she was adjusting to the change in noise. His informant, however, was still stood in the same spot as previous. His hood was lowered, his face now on full display, his eyes reflecting the light as he gazed up at the moon with a forlorn expression.

Slowly she leaned back around to confirm what she just saw. Sure enough, it was him; she was positive of it. There was no mistaking it, anyone in the kingdom would be able to recognize that face. She had no doubts of his identity, even as he turned his back to her to walk in the opposite direction.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, even as she blinked and rubbed at them to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. Grian’s informant, the man who had betrayed the crown, it was-

“I know, I was surprised as well.” A voice suddenly whispered into her ear.

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth - to gasp, to scream, she wasn’t sure - but a rough palm was pressed over the lower half of her face before she could make any noise and an arm around her waist pulled her away from the tree she had been taking shelter behind.

She struggled, throwing her elbow into the ribs of her attacker and kicking at their knees in an attempt to break free as she was dragged away from the clearing and back into the darkness of the overgrown forest. Who had caught her? Where was Tilly? What was happening?

Somehow, she managed to get a firm grip on the wrist connected to the hand over her mouth and used her core strength to flip the person over her shoulder and onto their back. She twisted their wrist and planted her foot on their chest, immobilizing them as they let out a pained wheeze.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m not an enemy!” The attacker said frantically.

Pearl ignored them and pulled one of her knives out of the sheath on her leg with her free hand. She was about to crouch down for easy access to their throat when Tilly erupted from the underbrush and began licking the attacker’s face, her tail wagging as she did so.

“Tilly, what-?” She asked in disbelief as the person sputtered and pulled away from the dog slobber despite the way it pulled on Pearl’s hold on their arm. She released her death grip on the wrist and stumbled back. The stranger pushed Tilly away by the snout and sat up, causing their hood to fall.

It was the Crestian man, Joel, Pearl believed his name was.

She crouched next to him and grabbed ahold of his collar before dragging them face to face. The man let out an “eep!” and raised his hands to show that he meant no harm, his eyes blown wide. Tilly let out a displeased huff against Pearl’s shoulder, but she ignored her in favour of glaring at the Crestian in her grasp.

“What in the hells are you doing here?” She hissed through her teeth, trying to keep her volume down. Not that it mattered, their initial scuffle had likely already been seen and heard anyway, but it was the principal of the matter.

“The same as you, I imagine.” Joel stated as he leaned away from her in a way that was undoubtedly straining his neck. “Neither of us trusts Grian.”

Her eyes widened. She dropped him roughly before standing and walking a few feet away, running a hand through her wild hair and knocking her hood off. She crossed her arms and gave him a look over her shoulder

“Is that really something you should be announcing so brazenly while he might still be near?” She questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“They’re gone by now. Not even the other guy saw us,” Joel said with a wave of his hand. He stood and dusted himself off, rubbing at his tender shoulder before pointing at Tilly with his thumb. “Besides, I think your mutt would know if the blokes were close anyway. I was on the other side of the clearing, and she sniffed me right out. I only barely managed to stop myself from screaming bloody murder when she latched onto the cuff of my trousers and led me to you.”

“Don’t call her that.” Pearl snapped, reaching down to pet Tilly’s ear. Tilly would smell Grian if he was close and alert Pearl immediately, though, so he was right on that part. They probably were safe to be talking. “You make a lot of assumptions, you know.”

“I like to think of them as observations, not assumptions.” Joel said, pretentiously shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, am I wrong?”

“Whether or not I trust Grian is none of your business.” Pearl said, her lip curling in annoyance. She turned away from him. “Just forget you saw me here and I’ll do the same for you.”

“Why don’t we join forces?” Joel asked, hurrying to keep up with her as she began moving through the forest.

“And why would we do that?” Pearl asked, not even looking at him.

“It’s pretty obvious isn’t it? He’s lying to us, we don’t trust him, and we have a common goal.” Joel stated.

“There you go again, not only assuming I don’t trust him, but that the two of us have some kind of goal in common.” She said, shaking her head. Tilly walked between them, turning her head back and forth to look at both of them each time they spoke.

“Sneaking through the underbrush isn’t exactly trusting behavior, in my opinion.” Joel said. From her peripheral vision, she could see him raise an eyebrow.

“It’s…not that I don’t trust him.” She said hesitantly. She shook her head, wondering why she was even indulging him this far.

“Then what is it?” He asked, cursing under his breath as he tripped over a root and almost fell flat on his face before catching himself roughly on the bark of a tree.

“Why do you care?” She snapped.

“I”m trying to gauge whether or not I should be working with this man.You saw who he was working with! You felt that insane magic, which he somehow felt no need to mention he had at his disposal! How do any of us know this isn’t just some elaborate scheme to use us and then dispose of us once we’ve served our use? ” Joel reasoned, gesturing grandly with his hands.

“It seems like you have already decided that he isn’t worthy of your trust.” Pearl pointed out. She pulled a branch out of her way, ducking under it and then letting it go. It snapped back and hit Joel right in the face. He sputtered and flailed before righting himself once more.

“Well, yes, I have, to be completely honest. He has been shady and secretive about his real intentions from the very start; I have been against this whole alliance ever since it was first proposed. The only reason I’m here is because my que- the queen insisted his cause was worth supporting.” Joel said.

“Then what does what I have to say matter?” She asked. “Whatever you think I’ll do for you, you’re wrong. I have no interest in working against him.”

“You say that, but I know you want the truth just as much as I do. You heard them, whatever it is that he’s keeping from us - all of us, you included - is something that could put our lives at risk. Don’t you want to know what we’re really dealing with?” Joel insisted.

Pearl’s steps slowed to a stop and she glared at her feet. She wanted to turn him down a second time, but she had no real argument against his words. If she truly had no interest whatsoever in working against Grian, she wouldn’t have come here tonight. They wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

“Even if that is the case, I have nothing to offer you.” She said after a moment.

“You can offer me perspective.” Joel shot back immediately. “What brought on your distrust? What makes a supposedly devoted member of the resistance turn on her leader?”

“I already told you, I don’t distrust Grian.” She said with a huff. “It’s just that he’s…different. He’s different from the avian I knew as a child. It’s like he’s an entirely different person.”

“Isn’t that to be expected? I mean, people change with age, it’s highly unlikely he would be the same boy you knew. Surely that’s not enough to breed the uncertainty that you bear.” Joel said.

“I never expected him to be exactly the same, of course not. I know people change. I’ve changed a lot since my youth.” She defended. Once she began, suddenly she could not stop. The words spilled and spilled from her mouth like vomit.

“It’s that he’s changed so much. There isn’t so much as a trace of that sweet boy. The Grian I knew was mischievous and a bit of a devil, sure, but he was never ever cruel like he is now. He was never once dismissive and full of himself. He was caring and kind. He would give you the skin off his back if he thought you needed it.

“He was like the older brother I never had. He was my best friend. When he first met me, we were both starving orphans on the street that no one gave two damns about. He saved me from starving to death when no one else would spare so much as a heal of moldy bread. He gave me the very last bit of his food with a smile on his face even though he was also starving.

“We kept each other safe; we kept each other warm during the winter. He always did whatever he could to make me smile and laugh even when there was nothing to be happy about. He was like a light in the darkest of times.

“He-he made me feel loved and safe when the world wanted nothing more than for me to disappear. But-but I just can’t see that part of him anymore, and it- it-!”

“It what?” Joel prodded gently as she struggled to find her words.

“It scares me.” Pearl whispered. She hadn’t noticed that thick tears were rolling heavily down her cheeks until she tasted the salt on her lips. Her lower lip trembled as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sniffled in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Tilly whimpered, leaning into Pearl’s side in an attempt to comfort her. She swallowed and then continued. “I want to know if I’m doing the right thing, helping him with this insane plan, even if I agree that the king needs to be replaced. I want to know if my Grian is still in there somewhere, if he’s really doing this for the benefit of other people and not…”

“For himself?” Joel asked. His expression was more somber now. Pearl nodded, squeezing her eyes to rid them of a few more stray tears. She took a deep breath and then nodded again, more firm and resolute this time.

“I’ll work with you.” She said, “I’ll help you figure out the truth of what’s going on. If not for your benefit, then my own. And if not for my own, then for the people of this kingdom and yours.”

A smile broke out across Joel’s face and he clapped his hands together. “Does this mean I have your support to bring his secrecy up during the meeting tomorrow night?”

“...Yes, you have my support.” She said with a sigh, once again wondering if she was making the right decision. It felt nice, however, having her feelings validated in this way. It had been so long that she had been holding that within herself.

“Yes! We’ll confront him together and demand answers!” Joel said, pumping his fist. He paused and then looked at her, his moonlit concern evident. “How likely it is, do you recon, that your peers would turn on us. Is their loyalty to Grian blind?”

Pearl thought for a moment. “I know that there are others that are just as unsettled by Grian’s behavior as I am. If it comes down to it, they’ll be on our side no matter what happens. Others…they’re so desperate for this rule to be overturned that they don’t care what Grian’s hidden motives might be, they’ll follow him. If I had to guess, it’ll be split nearly even. And this is only us assuming Grian’s secret is deal breaking to even us.”

The thought of infighting this late into the plan was frightening to Pearl, but she could not deny that this was something that needed to happen. If it came to it, and lives were at risk, the plan would just have to take a back burner.

“That’s good enough for me.” Joel said with a shrug. “Grian's plan works in Coral Crest’s favour, so I really hope it doesn’t come down to a divide, but we’ll be prepared for it if it does.”

He then reached forward and handed her a piece of parchment. She turned it over in her hands, her brow furrowing as she realized that it was entirely blank. The only thing that tipped her off to the fact that it wasn’t a normal piece of paper was the way her fingers lightly tingled under its rough surface.

“What is this?” She asked.

“It’s enchanted parchment. I have its sister piece with me, so whatever you write on your piece will be transferred over to mine and vice versa. They’re old, made back when magic was in its height, so their enchantment has worn over the years, but they should still work well enough if you have something urgent you need to convey to me before the next meeting. Grian isn’t the only one with magic at his disposal…though ours is a little more tame..”

“That’s amazing…I didn’t even know such enchantments even existed.” Pearl said in awe.

“Yeah, well, they’re as rare as they come, so you be careful with that. I don’t have another one.” Joel said, pointing a finger at her.

She marveled at the parchment for a second more before shoving it into the waistband of her trousers, much to Joel’s apparent displeasure as his face twisted up. The two of them shook hands and parted ways, electing to go in opposite directions to avoid the chances of them being seen together once they reentered the city.

Pearl kept a hand on Tilly’s scruff for comfort as they walked back to the bakery. The wolf-dog kept so close to her that Pearl would have been tripping over her with each step if this was not a familiar song and dance that they did every time Pearl was nervous.

She didn’t know if she had made the right decision in agreeing to support Joel. She was just as scared and unsure now as she was when she set off at the beginning of the night. The trembles going down her frame weren’t from the cold. She chewed on her lip enough that she feared the delicate skin would break under the abuse.

She had a lot of thinking to do to make sure tomorrow night didn't end in great disaster

For now, she was ready to drop with the exhaustion of the night weighing on her. She almost sighed in relief as Big Bakeries came into view, the building a sight for sore eyes. She took no note of the light in the window above as she entered the alleyway and rounded to the back. She led Tilly into the bakery through the backdoor using the key Bigb had entrusted to her years ago, which she kept on her person at all times. She locked up behind herself and climbed the stairs.

She yawned as she pushed the door to her and Bigb’s shared bedroom open, stretching her arms high above her head as she crossed the threshold. She paused as Tilly let out a confused whimper. Pearl's eyes snapped open, her arms dropping down to her weapons in an instant.

The candle still burned, nearly a stub at this point, illuminating the small room with its dying light. Bigb was sitting in his chair facing the door, his arms crossed over his chest with his eyes closed, but they slowly opened as soon as the door creaked loud enough to announce their presence.

That was not what gave Pearl and Tilly pause, however. That honour went to the figure sitting on the sill of the open window.

“Welcome back, Pearl,” Bigb said, “You have a visitor.”

❀ �� ❀

The gentle pink of the dawn sunrise filtered in through the frosty castle windows, scattering pale, rose tinted sunbeams along the high walls and red carpets. Though Gem had been awake since long before sunrise, she couldn’t help the sneaky yawn that escaped her as she passed by several groggy castle staff who were just now rising to attend to their duties, their own yawns far too contagious for her to handle.

She had hardly slept a wink the night before, the revelation about the grimoire far too heavy on her mind to allow her any rest. She simply could not accept the idea that it had been a simple thief that easily. It seemed far too convenient.

So, she decided to take a day “off” to visit the library and speak to the librarian for herself. Luckily there were not many preparations to make for the party anymore, and she had already sorted out that week's patrol routes and divided them up between her soldiers. The only thing she really had to do was oversee training in the evenings, and she already convinced Impulse to take that over for her, leaving her with enough free time to do as she pleased.

She shouldered open the grand doors that spanned from floor to ceiling, barely grunting at the weight of them like most would. The smell of parchment, ink, and dust immediately assaulted her nose.

Thick drapes were pulled away from long, palladian windows all around the vast room to let that rosey sunlight into the otherwise dark, cluttered space. The large, overflowing oak bookshelves sprawled so high that they kissed the ceiling, which were decorated with gorgeous murals of times long past, with flowing swirls of magic painted in pops of bright and bold colours.

The library was two floors tall, with a winding staircase in the center of the room, where also sat the large desk that the head librarian occupied. On this second floor - which was off limits to those without clearance - ladders were fixed onto the ends of the shelves, their purpose being to reach books that were otherwise too high.

The floors were marbled, but were interrupted by plush red carpets in several spaces, mainly those that would see a lot of traffic like walkways between shelves. There were chairs and tables scattered around and near the windows, each one housing a candle stick.

She made her way over to the head librarian's desk, flashing the woman a wide smile when she looked up as Gem approached.

“Hello, Sam.” She greeted, setting her hands on the cold oak. “I got your report. Would you mind showing me to the case where the book was stolen?”

The middle aged woman pushed her wide, circular spectacles further up her nose, giving her eyes a large appearance as she blinked owlishly up at Gem. Her blonde and brunette mixed hair fell from the lazy bun it was pulled into at the nape of her neck, strands of it falling around her shoulders and into her face. Her long, boney fingers smoothed down the pages of the book she was reading, her eyebrow cocking in tune with the tilt of her head. An amused smile graced her thin lips.

“Right to business as always, aren’t ya, miss?” She asked before standing.

“I’m all work, no fun, they say.” Gem joked with a laugh as she followed Sam around her desk and up the winding staircase that sat behind it. The librarian walked with a bit of a hunch, her hands folded behind her back; her lavender dress swayed with each step she took.

Gem looked around as they ascended the stairs, their steps clicking with each new stair they climbed. She really wished that she took more time to visit the library every now and then, it really was a beautiful place. There were so many books that the shelves were all bursting at the seams, overflowing.

The sunlight coming in through the windows was taking on a more golden hue compared to the previous pink as they made their way over to the sturdy glass displays atop a long table situated in the middle of the room that were previously unseen from down below. They were simple things, just dark oak frames filled with panes of glass on all sides as well as the top; their bottoms made of deep, polished obsidian.

Gem looked at each of them carefully; there were three of them in total. There was a gemstone in the smallest case on the rightmost half of the table. It was a deep purple around the edges, but took on a pink to white gradient towards the center, which was cracked open like a horrible wound to show off a deep, blood red heart on the inside.

On the leftmost side of the table was a thin wand made of a lavender tinted, white wood Gem didn’t have the knowledge to identify. It was embellished with delicate vines and flowers carved into its long faded surface. Capping its bottom and its tip were fine silver that was remarkably polished and taken care of despite the obvious signs of age that the rest of the wand showed.

Her eyes zoned in on the empty middle case.

“Right, well, this is it.” Sam declared, giving a lackluster flourish of her arms before letting them drop to her side.

There were no obvious signs of tampering, and it made sense as to why. The method to open the cases was almost laughably simple; all one had to do was lift the frame off of the bottom to gain access to the delicate wire stands within. It was remarkably easy to steal from them. It was an oversight that had Gem gritting her teeth and mentally smacking herself in the forehead.

“Tell me about the stolen item.” She requested. Sam nodded, her wide eyes growing glossy with excitement.

“These are a collection, actually. We believe that all three items were once owned by a powerful wizard in ancient times, long, long before any of us were born! The first item here is The Evoker’s Wand. It was said to have been handcrafted by the caster himself as a rite of passage from youth into adulthood! Wands were actually used only for minor spells, as their ability to conduct magic was very limited due to their size, making them the perfect items for fledgling wizards. Though there have been casters who were capable of producing grand amounts of magic with wands even smaller than this one!

“And then this stone here, I know it doesn’t look all that glamorous, but it's actually a crystal that was once used in the tip of the wizard’s staff. It was said to have been one of many of its kind, one of the End Crystals of myth! This one has long since lost any magical properties, but these crystals used to be grand conductors of magic that were highly sought after. They say that the spells the wizard was able to produce with this crystal were world shattering.” Sam said, her hands up around her face, here shoulders hunched with her glee.

“And the missing book?” Gem asked with an amused tone. "With how you’ve described the other items, I would think they would be the first someone would think to steal. I hardly believe this grimoire was simply just decorative if these other items are so great.”

Sam’s face flushed a little with what Gem assumed was embarrassment. She cleared her throat and straightened her posture before carrying on.

“Right, yes,” She cleared her throat again. “The grimoire… it came with the other items when the king - the previous king, not our king Ren - bought them, so we assumed it was part of the set, but it really was an anomaly. We don’t know much about it to be quite honest with you, miss. The writing was a language no one has been able to decipher before, and the cover was almost entirely destroyed long before it ever came to us.

“I have personally taken to calling it ‘The Eye’ because of the strange drawing in the center of the book, which took up two entire pages. It felt like the book was staring at you whenever it was open to those pages…I imagine it was a very powerful spell book back when the owner was alive, but it was hardly worth anything now in the magic sense. That's what makes it purely decorative now. There probably isn’t a soul alive today that can read its text.” Sam finished with a shrug of her shoulders.

Gem bit her lip.

“Why do you think the thief chose to steal the book over any of the other treasures? Surely the crystal would sell for more. Or even the wand, the detailing is quite beautiful.” She questioned.

Sam thought for a moment before she shook her head. “I haven’t a clue. To anyone who doesn’t know the history, the wand is simply a pretty piece of wood, and like I said, the crystal isn’t all that glamorous after years of wear and tear. The book itself was damaged as well, but it was an easier fix than the crystal. If I had to guess, they simply thought the book would sell for more.”

Gem nodded, though it left her with more questions than she had answers. She would just have to accept it as it was; a thief looking for a quick bit of coin stole something from the king’s collection and the choice was likely random. But something still just didn’t sit right with her…

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help in your investigation.” Sam said remorsefully, rubbing her elbow nervously.

“Oh, no, you’ve been wonderful. It’s not your fault that this is such a strange mystery with no substantial leads.” Gem said, waving her hand in a way she hoped was more reassuring than it was dismissive.

“Is that all you came here for, miss?” Sam asked.

“Actually,” She started, looking up, “I was wondering if you had any books on Evalore?”

Sam blinked at her in that owlish way of hers. “Surely I do! Would you like me to go fetch them for you?”

“I would love it if you could help me find any that you have.” Gem said with a nod. Then she tacked on. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“It is hardly a bother! Barely a soul comes here anymore, I delight at being able to do my job.” Sam said in a somewhat joking tone, “Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable at one of the tables and I’ll bring you what I find?”

“Oh, no I couldn’t ask that of you. Let me help collect them?” Gem requested.

“Oh thank the gods, I just hate climbing those ladders.” Sam said, shoulders sinking with relief. Gem laughed heartily as Sam began leading her through the library to collect the books.

The sun was properly in the sky by the time Gem was sitting at one of the tables in the far corner of the library with a stack of books in front of her. She had expected there to be more, because in the end all she ended up with were seven books, three of which were children's books of pictures and few words.

“Though I am sure you already know this I must still warn you, miss. When it comes to Evalore, most everything you read or hear about the tragedy itself will be more myth than reality. It was incredibly hard for scholars to grasp the reality of the situation since it was such an isolated incident. Because of this, it is likely you will run into many inconsistencies across sources.” Sam said, patting the topmost book on the stack.

“I understand. I figured as much would be true.” Gem said.

“Then I’ll let you get to it. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Sam said before disappearing around the shelves to return to her desk.

With a long, suffering sigh, Gem pulled the first textbook from the top of the pile and began reading.

The first few books described the land in glorious detail. Like Skizz had told her, their kingdom was situated in the heart of the great redwood forests, but what he hadn’t told her was that the kingdom itself was inside of the trees.

Within the pages of these books were drawings of beautiful, unique buildings carved into, and built around, the tops of these giant trees, with pathways and bridges connecting each and every one of them together. Spiraling staircases were built around the trees all the way from bottom to top, but they were not needed by most of the inhabitants because they were a civilization of avians.

Gem had heard that there was once a kingdom of purely avian citizens during the time of magic, but somehow Evalore had never come up by name before.

According to two separate books, Evalore’s main form of trade was their spiced wine, which was harvested from the sprawling apple orchards that they cultivated on the border of their kingdom. However, another book also claimed that they made a pretty penny off of jewelry made from polished stones, beads, and their own feathers. Gem ran her fingers down the beautiful drawing of a bracelet, wondering what it would have looked like in person.

Music was another thing Evalore had been known for, particularly their flute work. It was custom to carve an instrument from the wood that was dug out of a newly created home and give it to the occupant as a gift. Most often it was a flute of some kind, but string instruments were also common.

It came as no surprise that they were once host to competitions pertaining to flight, including races and diving. What was a surprise, however, was the fact that they also hosted wrestling competitions during their yearly festival.

She soon found herself lost in the pages of the books, immersing herself in the history of this land which no longer existed as the hours passed like the blink of an eye. They painted a picture of a beautiful kingdom full of beautiful people and beautiful culture.

However, the tragedy she was hoping to learn more about was hardly mentioned more than once or twice, and only as an afterthought.

After countless hours of reading, she knew just as much as she did at the start of the day. By all accounts the fall came out of nowhere. There wasn’t a single explanation in sight for the sudden massacre and destruction.

There was no mention of a foreign power at play, no mention of growing tensions with another kingdom. Hells, there wasn’t even any reports of growing tensions within the confines of the kingdom itself. No unrest, no uprisings, no interpersonal wars, nothing. Evalore was thriving and happy one day and then it was gone the very next.

Gem sighed deeply and sank into the chair with a groan, her forehead resting on the edge of the book with her nose squishing against the wood of the table.

It truly felt as though answers were never within her grasp.

She heard footsteps approaching her through the near silent library, and then a familiar voice said, “I was beginning to think we needed to send out a search party.”

“Hi, Scott.” She said with a sigh. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair to get a few stray curls out of her face. She wished she had the foresight that morning to wear her hair back or in a bun. “Am I needed somewhere?”

“No, I was just wondering if you were getting up to. Surely looking into the grimoire situation wouldn’t have taken this long.” He said. Dusky hues of purple and blue backdropped him from the window as he sat down in the chair across from hers. He picked up one of the books and then raised an eyebrow. “Evalore?”

“Yeah,” She confirmed, planting a cheek in her palm and grabbing one of the unread children’s books from the pile. “I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but I haven’t found it.”

“You must have heard what the knights have been saying, I assume.” Scott said, sighing as he set the book back down on the table.

“That we’re going to end up just like that?” She asked, eyes still downcast. She flipped the children's book open lazily, running her finger tips down the inked parchment.

“Evalore was an unpredictable tragedy, no one knows how or why it happened. The situations are entirely different.” He said softly, reaching out to take ahold of her hand in a comforting manner.

“I see as much now. I guess I was hoping that if I found out what caused the fall of Evalore, I could pinpoint a way to prevent whatever it is that Grian is planning and make sure we don’t end up in ruin.” She turned the page of the children’s book, “But it was all for nothing. It feels as though everything I have been doing lately is all for nothing.”

“Come on now, Gem, you know that’s not true.” Scott said, though his words fell on deaf ears.

Gem turned the page to the book and paused, her posture straightening as her eyes landed on something…peculiar. She pulled her hand away from Scott’s and took the book into a proper hold, flipping back to the first page.

This particular children's book had no author, only the initials F.S delicately inked in the bottom left corner of the cover, and it had taken a more childish method of telling Evalore’s tale, with a baby bird as the main character and a snake as a villain. It was so fictionalized that she hadn’t paid it any mind when she first spotted it. Truthfully, she hadn’t even intended to read it in the first place, but now she was studying each page with great care.

The party was grand, with flowers aplenty and food in abundance. The birds danced and danced around the sparkling fire until the stars were high in the sky. Their joy knew no bounds.

The baby bird had long grown tired of the party. He was exhausted, his little body craving for nothing more than the soft leaves that cradled him in the bottom of his nest. He searched and searched around for his mama and papa, for he had yet to learn how to fly and needed their help in getting home, but they were nowhere to be seen.

When he found them not in the thicket of the party, he wandered out onto the thinner branches. But before he knew what was happening, his little talons slipped!

The chick fell from the alcove so high up in the trees, falling past colourful leaves and flowers, his little wings flapping desperately to stop his fall to no avail. His tiny body bounced off of the soft soil of the ground he’d never touched before.

Everything was new, everything was strange. He was so, so very scared.

He knew the way up, but he was too small, too weak to make the climb on his own. His wings were too tiny, his skills too undeveloped. He could not make it home on his own.

“Won’t someone help me!” He cried from the ground so far below the branches. The jovial noise above continued on, oblivious to his pleas

“I can help you.” A voice whispered from the underbrush.

Frightened, the chick turned to the voice. A snake, long and purple and covered in speckles of black slithered from the shadows. His eyes glowed like the embers of a hungry fire.

“Who are you?” The chick asked.

“I am one who watches. I watched as you fell, I watched you cried, I watched as they ignored you.” The snake hissed in reply.

He circled the young bird, his long body coiling around and around the chick’s own small one. The chick looked up at the snake, his tears beginning to dry.

“If you welcome me into your home, I can bring you up high into the trees.” The snake hissed.

“But Mr. Snake,” The chick asked, “Your teeth are so sharp and your gullet so large. Will you not eat me and my own?”

“No, little chick, I would never eat you. I am a friend!” The snake replied. "I only wish to help."

“Do you promise?” The chick asked.

“Why, of course I do.” The snake said, his words sincere where his eyes were not.

And so the chick climbed atop the snake’s back and led him through the branches, welcoming him into the tree he called home. Up and up they went.

However, as soon as the two of them made it to the top, screams erupted!

The snake darted for the rest of the chick’s flock, throwing him from his back with little care as he devoured all in his path. They tried to run, but they were too slow. The once loud, happy party was now silent save for the chick’s cries.

“Snake, you promised!” The chick weeped. “You lied, you lied!

“Oh, little chick, I never lied. I promised not to eat you and I have not.” The snake hissed with eyes as cruel and as sharp as a the fangs in his mouth, his belly now swollen.

"How could you? I thought you were my friend!" Cried the chick

"I am one who watches. I watched as you fell. I watched as you cried. I watched as you foolishly trusted me-

There! Gem paused her reading on the page that had initially caught her interest. It was a full face shot of the snake. He was drawn to be smug, his cruel face taking up the entire page in a way that was undoubtedly meant to be unsettling, but that wasn’t what was intriguing. What was were the markings etched onto the snake’s forehead, which was exposed with the downward angle he was drawn in.

It was an eye.

“Gem?” Scott questioned, his confusion evident.

She ignored him, jumping to her feet with the book in hand and taking off through the library with her mind racing. She bumped into several shelves on her way, knocking more than a few books to the ground in her haste. Sam was looking in her direction with wide, alarmed eyes as Gem approached with alarming speed. She skidded to a halt in front of Sam and shoved the book into her face.

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, flinching back.

“Was this similar to the eye you saw in the grimoire?” Gem asked, panting for breath. Scott stumbled to a stop behind her.

“What is going on?” He asked.

Sam looked between her, Scott, and the book with that same startled expression before she adjusted her glasses and squinted her large eyes at the page. Her eyes widened again and she took the book from Gem’s grasp. Her mouth fell open and she blinked a few times before looking up at Gem. She set the book down gently on her desk and nodded once.

“What is this about?” Sam asked uncertainty.

“Is it at all possible that the stolen grimoire was a relic from Evalore?” Gem asked, ignoring Sam’s own question.

“From Evalore?” Scott asked in disbelief. “Everything from Evalore was destroyed during the incident, it would have been a bigger deal if Wintertide got its hands on even a piece of its vast wealth. No one who has handled that book has ever made such a connection.”

“It’s-it’s possible. We came into possession of all three treasures during the first war, and the king never did say exactly where he got them from… But the grimoire was hundreds of years older than the kingdom of Evalore itself, and it wasn’t even written in the language that they spoke. That would only raise the question of why it was there.” Sam said slowly, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “And as sir Scott pointed out, no one has ever placed such a high value on the old book before. It really was just a dusty old book.”

“Then how do you explain the similarity?” Gem asked, stamping her finger into the page for emphasis, accidentally crinkling the page a small amount with the force used.

“I can’t say I have ever even seen eyes used as a symbol in relation to Evalore.” Scott said. Sam shook her head.

“Nor have I,” She said, “Though I can’t deny how strikingly similar the eye looks to the one in the grimoire…”

“Surely it can’t be more than a coincidence.” Scott said. He carried on, a little more exacerbated with his next words. “It’s nothing more than a children's book, Gem.”

“Surely it has to be more,” Gem said. She grabbed the book, flipped it around and then brought it back to the first page. “It seems an odd twist of fate that a book with a similar symbol within its pages as the one in this book, one that is speculated to be of high magical value, has gone missing so soon after Grian has announced to me a suspicious ‘plan’. Not only that, but there is a party fast approaching, a party just like the one in this book.”

“Slow down, Gem. When did we begin assuming that it was the resistance that stole the book? I thought we had decided that it was a thief looking for riches.” Scott said, holding a hand up.

“That was before this!” Gem exclaimed, gesturing to the book.

“You cannot seriously be suggesting that Grian has based his plot for overthrowing the kingdom of Wintertide off of a fictitious children’s book.” Scott said slowly.

“That’s not what I’m suggesting!” Gem said, annoyed. “What I believe is that somehow Grian made the connection that Wintertide was unknowingly in possession of a powerful magic relic and intends to make use of it at this party.”

Scott was silent for a moment, taking in her words.

“Even if that were the case, what could he really hope to accomplish? No one who can cast the kind of magic that it takes to bring down entire kingdoms even lives in this day and age. There is no way he could ever hope to cast that kind of spell.” Scott reasoned.

“With enough man power, he just might.” Gem said, deadly serious.

A pin could be heard with how silent it suddenly became in the library. Sam looked between the two of them with clear horror and fear written all over her now very, very pale face. Scott took one look at the librarian and then took a hold of Gem’s arm, pulling her out of Sam’s ear shot before leaning in and whispering.

“Do you understand the implication of this theory of yours?” Scott asked, unease, or perhaps fear, leaking into his words. Gem nodded.

“Whatever it was that happened to Evalore all those years ago, Grian is trying to replicate it.”

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sabraeal · 1 year ago

Text

If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

Written for @claudeng80, who has been waiting longer than a month now for this birthday fic, and who has indeed beta'd this birthday fic as well, for we long ago passed the point where we pretend with each other that our final drafts are our first drafts. And though she cannot and will never see those first drafts because that is a layer of vulnerability on par with peeling off my skin to show off my bones, she can at least see my seconds drafts. Where she will then promptly tell me that I am missing a crucial word in a sentence, and maybe I should consider a comma or maybe a whole ass period, or possibly learn to spell words the way the god or at least the Oxford Dictionary intended. Because that is what friendship is all about 🤣

The problem is: it feels like too much.

The suitcase had been a given, of course; Chizuru only had the one, a gift from Father on her twelfth birthday, meant to be used on the single vacation he’d set aside time to take her on. Even after six years, the flower decals still looked like they’d been applied yesterday, pink a vibrant cherry blossom, only the dint on one corner to serve as proof it had ever been used. Disney World might have only lasted two days before a work emergency had them hopping the next flight back home, but at least the Orlando baggage carousel had left its mark. It’d been a happy reminder of better days when she’d been living out of it for those few weeks, unsure of where she would land— or whether she ever would.

It’s only— she hadn’t thought it would be full. Chizuru wouldn’t call herself a light packer by any means, but the event’s only three days, at a hotel that is possibly twenty minutes door-to-door, at least when school’s in session. It hardly seems like the sort of thing that calls for a suitcase filled to the brim. Above the brim even, if she were gutsy enough to take Kimigiku’s costume out of the garment bag— which she isn’t. It’d been heart-pounding enough putting Sen’s paper-wrapped kimono in there, let alone something with parts and pieces and things that could very easily scatter under her bed skirt and be lost for eternity.

Which brought her tally to one suitcase (over laden), one garment bag (to be treated with care), and the small travel pack she’d slung over her chest (overstuffed), gone over a half dozen times each, pared down to the barest bones, and still, still—

She can’t possibly take up this much space. Even in Shinpachi’s Range Rover, it’s too much. Maybe if she tried again, this time—?

3:15, her lock screen reads, a little snowflake sitting beside the 33°F below. Haah, with a four o’clock check in, there’s no chance of her whittling her luggage past the basics. Not unless she want to be late, and if she’s late, then—

Then everyone will be waiting for her. All of them clustered at the bottom of the stairs, watching the time tick down as she tries to decide if she really needs an extra pair of underwear or another package of hair ties. Just the thought threatens to have her break out in a full-body rash.

With a steeling breath, she adjusts her travel pack and rolls out to the hallway. A proposition that would be easier if not for the wall-to-wall carpets in the hall, but Chizuru manages to steer her suitcase competently enough, drawing up to the stairs with enough confidence to survive the six sets of eyes sure to turn her way—

Only to find two instead. Not waiting on her either— no, Yamazaki’s got his head bent close to Hajime, hands shaking with emphasis as he hisses, “I don’t care if he’s done hours before anyone else, I’m not getting in a car with him.”

“I was not insinuating that I would make you,” Hajime intones with weary patience. “I merely wanted to mention the likelihood of Souji being the first of our companions to finish with his preparations.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m not—”

It’s not on purpose; between fight or flight, Chizuru’s legs have chosen freeze, and she’s perfectly resigned to stand statue-still up here, silent and just out of sight. But her suitcase chooses to make it known to everyone in the major metropolitan area that one of its wheels is not perfectly situated on the landing. It tilts, the aggrieved wheel letting out a plaintive squeak— and that’s all it takes for Hajime’s eyes to narrow, slanting up to the top step.

“Good afternoon, Yukimura,” he says, oddly pointed. “It seems you are ready to head to the hotel.”

“Ah…” Her suitcase clunks down the next step with her, wheels spinning. “Yes. I just, um…”

Have to survive these stairs, she swallows down, gritting out a smile instead. She tries to lift her case and garment bag all together, but—

“Yukimura.” Long, well-clipped fingers wrap around the side handle, quite literally taking the weight out her hands. “Would it be alright if I handled this for you?”

“Oh.” Yamazaki’s not a tall man, not by any measure, but in the dim light of the stairway, he looms, and it— it flusters her, free hand fluttering uselessly between them. “I-I can’t possibly ask you to—”

“You’re not.” Hajime hovers at the bottom of the banister, a strange sort of lightness in his voice. If Chizuru didn’t know better she might call it…bubbly. “He is.”

“O-oh.” She stares down at the hand still clenched around a handle, willing each finger to release knuckle by knuckle, so slow it feels like someone else’s hand entirely. “Then…thank you, I guess.”

Yamazaki spares her a nod and a terse, “No problem,” right before he lifts her suitcase and—

And rams it right into the floral wallpaper.

“Nice,” Hajime hums, appreciative.

Yamazaki’s still flushed when he glares down, snapping, “I don’t see you helping.”

“And get between you and serving hime-sama?” Hajime’s not one to smirk— honestly, he’s not much on smiling either, save by millimeters— but a corner of his mouth trembles as Yamazaki tromps down the last few stairs, stormy as one of their winter squalls. “I would never.”

His jaw doesn’t so much open as fall, working, as if he needed a good running start to get his next words out. Chizuru simply slips around his side, asking brightly, “Have you been waiting long?”

“We were just discussing who we thought would be next in finishing their preparations,” Hajime tells her, not really answering her question. Experience tells her that means ‘a long time.’ “Although Shinpachi could fit the seven of us in his vehicle, we would more comfortably divide into three and four amongst two cars, and since I have a perfectly serviceable sedan”— Chizuru’s confusion must show her face, since one look at her has him hauling to a stop, coughing to clear his throat— “I mean to say, we were waiting for our third.”

“Oh.” She blinks, glancing between the two of them. “I guess that’s me?”

“So it seems.” There it is, that tremble at the corner of Hajime’s mouth, threatening to curl. For a moment, she’s certain it will, but he turns his head away, casting a speculative look down the hall. “Should we wait to take on another passenger, or—?”

“Better not risk it.” Hajime half-turns toward Yamazaki, disappointment palpable, and he adds, “Oh come on, Nagakura has the bigger car.”

“That doesn’t mean we should—”

Whatever Hajime means to say is lost in the tangle of boy and bag clattering down the stairs, the struggle so loud Chizuru’s ears still ring even after it’s over.

“Oh hey,” Heisuke says, cheerfully emerging from the tumble. “You guys haven’t left?”

Yamazaki blinks. “Not…yet…”

“We were just discussing if we should wait,” Hajime says. “Since Shinpachi’s vehicle might be preferable to the remaining passengers.”

“Nah, those guys are gonna take forever to get ready. Sano has a whole bag just for his freaking hair! And not only that, but him and Shinpachi have been fighting for the last ten minutes over who owns this styling gel or whatever, which like, who cares? But still” — Heisuke stops to catch his breath— “You got room for one more?”

Yamazaki and Hajime exchange looks. Just what exactly they’re saying, Chizuru can’t even begin to guess.

“Well,” Hajime hums, bemused. “That does handle one problem.”

“Fine.” Yamazaki sighs, hefting a bag over his shoulder. “Let’s just go already.”

Despite all her fretting, her suitcase fits easily into the back of Hajime’s Elantra, slotting into the last spot in the trunk with little more than a twist and a lift. It helps that all Heisuke has is a duffel, crammed into the corner with all the care of a dirty sock being returned to the hamper.

“Don’t you have costume parts in there?” Yamazaki manages around a grimace; one that only deepens at Heisuke’s shrug.

“It’s fine.” He gives the bag one last good shove, wedging it firmly against the side. “I just threw it together. And Sano says he’s gonna bring all the sticks or whatever—”

“They’re boffers,” Hajime interjects, “technically.”

“Yeah, that.” Heisuke claps him on the back. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Hotels have those iron thingies, don’t they?”

Both eyebrows hitch up to Hajime’s hairline. “You know how to use an iron?”

Heisuke’s face crumples in confusion. “Well, no. But how hard can it be?”

Plenty is the answer, though Chizuru’s in no mind to give it, not when she’s preoccupied with trying to hang her garment bag on the hook over the window. Yamazaki and Hajime had made it look easy, but hers just keeps sitting wrong, taking up too much space and—

“You can take the front.”

She blinks up, half spilled out of the back seat, right up into Yamazaki’s concerned frown. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, if you wanted. It’s probably, er, nicer than having to share the back with—” his gazes darts over her head, to where Hajime patiently coaches Heisuke in the proper way to treat his personal items— “anyone.”

Her hands fly up, waving between them. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly! I can’t have you sit back here with my bag in your way.”

“We have bags back there too,” he reminds her, leaving the ‘and we’re definitely making Heisuke deal with it’ unspoken. “It’s only fair for me to make the offer.”

“Ah, I suppose…” She runs her fingers down the seam of her garment bag, considering. “But really, I’ll be fine. I’m sure Hajime would prefer to have you as his copilot!”

His mouth furrows, the perfect counterpoint to the storm brewing on his brow. “Yukimura—”

“All done!” Heisuke bursts onto the bench seat beside her, quivering with the same energy as a dog wagging his tail. “We gonna get this show on the road soon?”

Yamazaki’s mouth pulls too thin for a sigh to slip through; instead it all rushes out of his nose, coming to an abrupt halt when he glances down at her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to change seats?”

“Hey! What’s up with this thing?” There’s not a lot of Heisuke, but what there is stretches across the seat, reaching out to give her garment bag one good tug. It’s like magic— one minute it’s shoving a shoulder across her seat, and the next it’s tucked into the handle, laying flat against where the door would be. “There, all set.”

He settles back, utterly nonchalant, as if he didn’t realize he’d done anything exceptional at all. Chizuru fails to stifle a laugh.

“Yes,” she says, giving Yamazaki one of her brightest smiles. “I think I'll get along just fine.”

“Woah? This is the place?” Heisuke jabs a finger toward the glass doors beneath the portico, duffel slung over his shoulder. “You sure?”

“Of course it is.” Yamazaki steps into the revolving door, suitcase clattering at his heels. “Haven’t you seen the campus hotel before?”

“Well, like, not up close,” he admits, following him through. “But this is nice. Like nice-nice. Are you sure they’re gonna give us discounts on a place this swanky?”

Chizuru has to admit, she’s thinking the same. From the outside, it didn’t seem like anything much— just another brutalist building squatting on campus, only with better parking access— but on the inside…

“Is this marble?” she murmurs faintly, nervously mincing across the floor. A hundred dollars for the weekend seemed like a steal when she’d thought it’d have the same level of amenities as a Holiday Inn Express. Now it’s practically highway robbery. “And the chandeliers…?”

“Satsuma Estates has been very kind to our organization since it started,” Saito informs them as he emerges from the door, his own suitcase coming to rest at his heels. “Most of their meeting spaces are influenced by traditional Japanese aesthetics, which meets our standards for a desirable location, and on their part, we are regular, respectful customers who—”

“We hold our biggest events during the part of the fiscal year where there isn’t much in the way of guests.” Yamazaki’s mouth slants, almost sly. “Spending New Year’s Eve on an empty campus in the middle of nowhere isn’t exactly on anyone’s bucket list.”

“So we get to have this place all to ourselves?” Heisuke eyes a vase that could have been just as at home in the Forbidden Palace as it was in a hotel lobby. “And they don’t have a problem with us running around in our costumes? I mean, with the swords and everything?”

“Boffers,” Hajime reminds him at the same time Yamazaki sighs, “They’re just foam.”

There’s a look that passes between them; a weary one, at least for Yamazaki’s part, though Hajime…well, Chizuru could hardly pretend to be an expert on the minute changes that marked a shift in his moods. But if she had to hazard a guess, she might say…amused.

“The more regular players typically bring foam or rubber replicas, with little intention to use them outside of aesthetic accuracy.” Hajime nods his chin toward a plastic pipe leaning against the front desk, both ends thickly padded and wrapped in what looked like duct tape. “New ones or the more…martially oriented roles usually elect to use boffers. Regardless, any weapon paraphernalia is inspected and registered at check-in.”

“They are also not allowed to be drawn outside the designated bounds of a scene,” Yamazaki adds, not a little stern as he surveys the crowd. “Personal combat sequences usually require advanced warning as well, since they have to prepare an area especially to accommodate—”

“Hold up. ‘Personal combat sequences?’”

“Duels,” Hajime clarifies.

Heisuke’s eyes pulse wide. “Duels? Really? We can have one of those?”

“As honor demands.”

“Woah.” There’s a new level of respect in Heisuke’s eyes as he scans the room. “And everyone follows the rules?”

“Yes,” Hajime says as Yamazaki grunts, “Mostly.”

Another look slings between them, though this time Chizuru doesn’t mistake the censure in Hajime’s stare.

“They say we’re better behaved than a regular convention,” Yamazaki allows, begrudgingly. “Or at least, we smell better.”

Heisuke blinks. “Smell better?”

He huffs out something in the neighborhood of a laugh. “You don’t want to know.”

“Should we get in line?” Chizuru eyes the crush creeping toward the front desk, barely contained by the black tape borders. “It seems like there’s already a bit of a wait to get through…”

“Jeez! That’s a lot of people!” Heisuke startles, like he’s only just noticed. “I thought this was supposed to be small?”

“Our usual group is around twenty to thirty members.” Hajime casts a speculative look over the lobby. “But for our weekend events, it can easily double.”

“Dude, this is definitely more than double—”

“Why don’t we check into the event first?” Yamazaki juts his chin toward the hall past the lobby, tightening his grip on his bags. “If everyone’s out here, then there can’t be much of a line there.”

Heisuke’s mouth clicks shut with a shrug. “Sounds like as good a plan as any.”

The event’s check-in is down the hall from the real one, just inside the first exhibit hall they come across— nearly empty, just like Yamazaki said, the number of people loitering around denser behind the tables than in front of them. For the two boys who are best known as the only ones in the roommate agreement who possess some sense of caution, there’s no hesitation, no moment for them to take in the currents of the room and pick the best course— both beeline straight for one of the tables, lining up with all the ease of habit. Chizuru follows after them, not on their heels, like Heisuke, but taking in the size of the room, in how there’s a few people clinging to the corners, their conversations hushed but curious as they pass.

There’s a mountain of a man in front of them, made larger for how the seams of his button down strain at the shoulders to contain his hunch, and she can’t shake the feeling that it’s familiar. Especially when he stands, unfurling head and shoulders taller than all of them and—

“Yamazaki.” The man doesn’t so much speak as rumble, like far away thunder, turning to them with a warm smile. “I see you did bring your friends after all.”

“M-Mr Shimada,” Chizuru gasps, heat flooding her cheeks. “I didn’t even—?”

Recognize you, she nearly says, but he’s wearing the same button down and slacks he does behind his desk, looking every inch like the professor he is. Or at least, will be, once he’s made the jump from adjunct.

Think you’d be here is more accurate, but the longer she considers the idea, the less improbable it seems. He’s a history professor after all— the kind that keeps replica swords mounted on his office wall, right above the pictures of his wife and kids. An active kendo instructor at the campus gym too, plus a dozen other martial arts she can only half remember the syllables of. She’d already seen him do demonstrations with live steel at the freshman orientation fair, dressed up in a kimono and hakama. And when she thinks about it like that, it’s honestly more surprising that he’s the only one from the department here.

A chill shivers up her spine. He’s the only member of the department she sees. That doesn’t mean he’s the only one in attendance. Her eyes skitter out over the hall, searching for stiff shoulders or the lingering scent of Marlboro—

“He’s brought quite a few friends this time.”

Chizuru startles, but it’s not an expletive that’s been dragged over gravel— no, it’s the reedy voice of the man behind the table, a wide smile pulled across a face as dainty and delicate as a doll’s. And yet when those large eyes fix on her— not the same shocking green of Souji’s, but something softer, mossier, more natural— there’s no innocence behind them, just the ceaseless churning of a great machine.

“Though I see not all of them have made it yet.” He rises, half out of his seat and hand outstretched. “I take it this is…?”

A narrow set of shoulders steps between them. “Heisuke!”

The man blinks, impossibly long eyelashes batting against porcelain pale cheeks, but his smile doesn’t lose any of its shine. “Ah, yes, of course, Heisuke. How nice that you’ve decided to join us. I’m Keisuke Ootori, one of the game masters.”

“Thanks for having me,” Heisuke says, so easy, and— and it would be nice to be like that, to be so confident of being welcome that pleasantries don’t turn oddly personal; that saying hello doesn’t come off as desperate. “It’s my first time doing this whole LARP thing!”

“You don’t say.” Keisuke’s mild gaze slants toward Yamazaki, mouth hitched at a corner. “Well, any friend of Hajime and Susumu’s is a friend of ours.”

“Su…Susu…?” Heisuke blinks, rolling his eyes to stare at Yamazaki. “…Mu..?”

“Don’t start.”

“Now, you were playing…?” A finger runs down the binder in front of him, stopping with a victorious tap. “Matsu Yoshitora, the beastmaster.”

“He’s lion clan!” Heisuke leans over the table, practically quivering without a tail to wag. “Because that’s my fursona.”

“Oh.” There it is again, that little wobble at the corner of his mouth, that dart of his eyes to where Yamazaki stands, hands clapped over his face. “Isn’t that nice.”

“I don’t know him,” Yamazaki says through his fingers, ears blazing bright red. “He just followed us in.”

“What Heisuke means,” Hajime interjects with beatific levels of patience, “it that the lion is his favorite animal. At least out of the options presented in the player’s guide.”

“Ah, I see.” Teeth peek through his smile when the game master turns back to Heisuke, fingers knitted over his binder. “You know, one of our other players has a whole functioning tengu suit. I think you might get along.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Yamazaki grumbles, but it’s too late, Heisuke’s already nodding his head, saying, “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds cool.”

“It sure is. Technically impressive too. Now, if you have weapons”—his hand sweeps out toward the table cozened up to his, and the girl behind it— “Marie can take care of their registration.”

“They’re not here yet,” Heisuke hurries to tell him— and as an afterthought, her. “They’re in the other car.”

“If you can describe it, we can get the process started.” The girl— Marie— smiles, but it doesn’t have the same warmth as Keisuke’s. It’s perfunctory, precise, and certainly satisfies Heisuke, since he slides right over and starts trying to gesture dimensions. But still, Chizuru can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s something cold beneath that polite smile, something pointed about the way her eyes avoid anything past the midline of the tables—

“Now, you”— Keisuke’s angles sharpen, teeth flashing behind his smile— “must be Hime-sama.”

Conversation careens to a halt, even the restless murmurs from the corners of the room pressed into silence.

“Ah…um…yes.” Chizuru shuffles a hesitant step closer. “Chizuru. I mean, I’m Chizuru”— he only smiles wider at her blush— “I’m playing Doji Kaoru.”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Chizuru.” He presses a gallant hand to his chest, a sparkle lurking in the corners of his eyes. “And Kaoru. We’ve been waiting a long time to do something with Hime-sama…”

“O-oh! Really?” Her stomach knots itself before hurtling to her throat, bile sour on the back of her tongue. “I’m sorry— it must be so much trouble to— I can always play someone else if it’s going to ruin—”

“On the contrary, Chizuru! You saved us quite a bit of trouble. Especially poor Marie here.” He jerks a thumb toward where she sits, studiously ignoring their conversation. “But on that note— once we’ve wrapped up with check-in, I’d like to talk to the three of you.”

“U-us?” Every hair stands on end. “Are we in…in trouble?”

She could pass out just considering it. Her name’s barely gotten crossed off the list, and already she’s being called in to the principal’s office to explain herself. If only—

“No, no, not at all. In fact, the opposite”— he laughs as he leans in, lowering his voice to a stage whisper— “we’d like you to raise a little trouble.”

“O-oh.” She clasps her fingers to keep them from trembling. “Okay? I guess.”

“We’ll discuss it in a bit.” He settles back, tilting his chin toward the table next to him. “Now if you have any weapons to register, you can—”

“I don’t.”

His words grind to a halt. “You…don’t?”

“No.” She blinks, fingers clenching painfully tight. “Is that…bad?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, the warmth still radiating from his smile— but there’s a sharpness to it too. An edge an unwary finger could cut itself on. “That’s perfect.”

“Hey, Shinpachi! Sano!” Heisuke bolts like a dog let off his leash as they round the corner to the lobby. There’s more than a few people that stand head-and-shoulders above this crowd, but no-one besides Harada shines bright apple red under the light, hair so glossy and soft Chizuru wonders just what he uses for conditioner. “Look! I got this cool bracelet.”

His wrist thrusts out right under their noses, fluorescent green so close their eyes nearly cross just trying to look, but Shinpachi just pushes it out to a visible distance and grins. “Sweet, bro! Where do I get myself one of these babies?”

“Around the corner.” Heisuke puffs out his chest, free hand hooking onto his hip. “There’s a girl handing them out. Look, Chizuru’s got one too, and—”

“Do they really think I’m going wear that?” Souji doesn’t so much arrive as appear, gone one moment and holding her wrist the next, like the neighborhood cat that only winds itself around her ankles when she’s throwing out old chicken bones. One finger slips beneath the pink band, tugging like he hopes it’ll give. “I’d rather cut my wrist off.”

“If you’re not having fun,” Yamazaki sniffs, “you can just go home.”

Souji’s sneer hones to a point. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, nerd.”

Yamazaki’s jaw works, breath so heavy Chizuru’s half worried it might steam, but before he can manage to marshal anything beyond ‘you—’ Hajime replied, “Yes, the bracelet is required. It marks us out as participants in the event, as well as informs security at a glance that any weapons on our person have been registered and approved by the game masters.”

“Wow, really?” Shinpachi blinks, prodding at Heisuke’s band. “Is there some sort of chip in there or something? RFID or whatever?”

“Er, no.” Yamazaki scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s just the color. Green means he’s only got one registered.”

“Blue is two,” Hajime offers, flashing his own wrist. “As I wear both tachi and tanto.”

“Oh!” Chizuru blinks down at her pink band. “What about mine?”

“You do not possess any weaponry,” he tells her, tone taking a surprised lilt. “Either visible or concealed.”

“What?” Yamazaki catches her wrist up in one hand, long fingers feather-light across her pulse, and he blinks at the band like he’s never seen a red paler than fire engine. “You didn’t bring anything?”

“I…” hadn’t known that would be an option. “Is that bad?”

“Ah, no.” His eyes meet hers, pulling wide before his fingers flinch, both hands and gaze skittering away from her. “Just…unorthodox, maybe.”

“I just thought…Kaoru is a courtier.” She shies beneath a shrug, cheeks flushed. “That means that she would put more weight on her words rather than, er…”

Hajime nods. “A good character choice, Yukimura. One that may also have complicated consequences, depending on the sort of story the game masters would like to tell.”

“Oh.” Her throat squeezes, the first prickle of tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” A hand falls gently onto her shoulder, fingers tightening in the barest squeeze when she dares to glance up. Yamazaki may not be one for smiles either, but there’s a faint one clinging to the corners of his mouth now, both amused and— and something else. Fond, maybe. “You’re with us, Yukimura. Experienced players live for complications.”

It’s warm where his hand presses to her, even through her coat, and her tongue tangles trying to find the right word, to find the compromise between thank you and I’m sorry, but—

But Souji saunters right up between them, flicking the band at Yamazaki’s wrist. “Hey, if all these colors are supposed to have some meaning or whatever, what’s with the lame ass purple?”

Yamazaki snatches his hand off her shoulder, cradling it against his chest. “What if you just—?”

“It means that he keeps up to the event maximum,” Hajime informs him mildly. “Concealed.”

Harada frowns, considering the band. “And just how many is that?”

“Five.”

“Woah!” Shinpachi takes a half step back, Heisuke quick to follow suit. “That, uh….that’s pretty impressive. Do a, uh…lot of people do that, or…?”

“No, it’s special dispensation,” Hajime clarifies casually. “Only a handful of players ever display the responsibility and mastery of play to earn the right.”

“No way!” Heisuke suddenly no longer shrinks from but stretches toward Yamazaki, an eager grin tugging at his lips. “Dude, are you like, really cool?”

Souji sniffs. “Only if hell has frozen over.”

For once, Yamazaki doesn’t rise to his bait, merely shaking his head. “No, no. It’s really not that big a deal—”

“Uh-huh.” Harada crosses his arms, one corner of his mouth curling toward a smirk. “And just how many people have a band like yours?”

He hesitates— too long, since Hajime is quick to offer, “Three.”

Yamazaki flushes under the sudden spurt of attention turned his way. “Saito would have one too, if he wanted it! It’s just— shinobi carry knives!”

“Lots of ‘em, apparently,” Shinpachi mutters, impressed.

"That's not--!"

“Ah, hey, Chizuru…” Harada turns to her with a sheepish look, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You know, the bunch of us already checked in here, so uh, why don’t you guys go on up?”

“M-me?” She blinks, on hand resting against her chest. “B-but…”

It’s habit to turn to Yamazaki, to leave space for him to air his own thoughts, his own opinions drawn from forethought and experience, but—

But he’s too busy stumbling under the hand Shinpachi claps to his back, looking like he’d like the carpet to swallow him whole.

“Ah!” Her fingers squeeze tight. “Um, yes. Sure. I’ll…get on that.”

The line’s smaller than it was when they first arrived; no longer a crush of people and garment bags and boffers, but a more subdued queue. It’s in no way quick— it moves along, but there’s time to idle between their forays forward, Heisuke pressing Hajime about clans and combat and conspiracies while Yamazaki surreptitiously checks his phone. Never for long, just a click on and off of the screen, like he’s waiting for something, and—

“Next, please.”

“Yukimura,” Hajime intones, utterly serious. “It is your turn.”

She jolts up from her suitcase, eyeing the open desk. “O-oh! Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you all from—?”

“Next customer, please!” another clerk calls from further down as the cluster of people in front of her walk away, polite smile already tacked in place. “Please approach the desk when you’re ready to check in!”

“That’s us,” Yamazaki says, skirting his suitcase wide as he steps around her. “We’ll wait for you when you’re done.”

“Don’t look at me,” Heisuke says, even as she does. “I’m just here for the company. Sano and Shinpachi already handled my room.”

“A-alright.” Hand wrapped tight around her suitcase handle, she rolls forward, knees barely trembling. “H-hello. I have a reservation?”

The receptionist smiles down at her. “Can I have your name?”

“Chizuru Yukimura?” She rises onto her toes, neck craned to watch the woman key her name into their computer, as if that might somehow help her find it. “I should have a single—?”

“Single…? Oh, hm.” The receptionist sits back in her hips, stymied. “I’m actually seeing one of our queen suites?”

A chill races down her spine. “Ah, no, but I— it definitely was supposed to be a single.”

At least it was when she booked it; it was the only thing she could afford, even with the discount. And even then—

“Oh! I see.” A couple clacks across the keyboard brightens the receptionist’s smile by a couple of watts. “It seems you’ve been given a free upgrade to one of our deluxe suites!”

Nothing good comes for free, Father’s voice blares in her ear, they only want to hide a cost you would hesitate pay. Her stomach twists, cold seeping up her throat. “F-free? I don’t have to, er, sign up for anything, or…?”

The receptionist relaxes with clear relief. Chizuru wishes she could do the same. “Yes, completely for free, at no extra charge!”

It’s impossible to swallow past the lump in her throat. “W-why? Did I do something…?”

“It doesn’t say on the reservation.” Her shoulders offer up a scant shrug under her blazer. “We must have run out of single rooms.”

“But…” It’s worse this way, she wants to say, the words clawing in her throat. Because I didn’t earn it. “I…”

“Yukimura.” Yamazaki steps up beside her, furrowed brows already aimed over the counter. “Is everything all right?”

“A-ah, yes!” Chizuru drops her heels, shuffling back from the counter. “It was just…something with the room…?”

“Ms Yukimura received a free upgrade to her reservation,” the receptionist replies cheerily. “Give me one moment, I’ll activate your key.”

“Free upgrade?” He blinks down at her. “Is there something wrong, or—?”

“No!” It’s ridiculous how much of a scene she’s making— anyone else would have just received it with a smile, happy to have gotten the extra mile out of their money, but here she is, half faint, making a mountain out of a molehill. “It’s fine, really.”

The corners of his mouth bite deeper into his cheeks, unconvinced. “Are you sure? One of us could always—?”

“Here you go, ma’am— 1204.” The receptionist hands over a small envelope, two keys nestled inside. With one glance at Yamazaki, her smile slants, angle all-too knowing. “Enjoy your stay. Next customer, please?”

He frowns, knuckles blanching where they grip his bag. “Yukimura—”

“It’s fine!” Her teeth grit down in a smile. “Really, it is. Let’s just get settled in.”

The elevator doors ding in distress as Harada wraps his whole hand around one side of them, refusing to let them slide shut. “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you? It’s not that far out of the way.”

It’s four floors at least— her twelve to their eight— and with how the halls stretch across this landing, the lobby central to the rest of the rooms, it’s impossible to say how far of a hike. “No no, it’s fine. I can handle finding it myself.”

“We’re not worried about your sense of direction, Chizu.” Shinpachi crosses his arms over his chest, forbidding. “But what if someone gets weird with you while you’re wandering around up there?”

“Of course that’s your problem with all this,” Souji snorts, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Chizuru gets an upgrade and suddenly you’re all acting like there’s lions trying to split the lame gazelle from the herd. What’s the problem, think someone’s going to make eyes at her getting ice if she doesn’t have at least three of you to scare ‘em off?”

“This is serious,” Shinpachi spits. “There’s a lot of people in this place right now—”

“A serious waste of my time.” With a desultory wave of his fingers, Souji stalks off down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “Chizuru’s already said she’s fine. Call me when it’s time to eat.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Harada hums, his too-kind eyes looming over her. “If you don’t feel comfortable, it’s fine for one of us to—”

“No, I’m okay, really.” Chizuru lets her mouth pull wide, hoping her smile is more confident than she is. “You guys need to get your stuff settled. We can meet up later for dinner.”

Harada hesitates, struggling against another distressed ding. “I don’t know…”

“You have your phone, don’t you?” Yamazaki drags his glare from Souji’s back to where she stands, softening. “You’ll call if you need to?”

“Ah, yes!” It takes a moment to fish her phone from her bag, opening and closing zippers as Harada slowly, by inches, loses his struggle against the doors. “Right here!”

She waves it, lock screen bright in the car, and Harada loosens his grip. “As long as you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” The words echo behind closed doors, her stomach rolling as the elevator lurches upward. She glances down at her screen, just in time to see it flash 20% at the corner before going black. “I think.”

It’s the toots that startle her as she creeps down the hall, suitcase wheels rattling across the close-textured carpet, the loudest noise she’s heard since the elevator doors closed behind her. Her grip tightens around her garment bag, weight shifting back on her heels, ready to turn tail and run, but—

But it’s her. The tooting, that is. Or rather, her phone. Embarrassing how long it takes her to think of it, really, but she does, slipping it right out of the pocket she’d tucked it into. 15% it reads now, but that’s not what draws her attention, not when there’s a notification with Sen’s smiling face beaming beside it. did you make it?

The breath rushes from her lungs, half-sigh, half-laugh. Two steps away. Thanks for asking.

It takes an improbable amount of minutes to manage those two-steps, however. Maybe Harada could have made it in one— or Shinpachi, even— baggage all happily come to heel, card in hand, but Chizuru has to trip over hers first, juggling garment bag and suitcase and half-unzipped travel pack until she realizes she can just put her phone away to free up that critical hand. Even still, there’s rustling and shuffling to trade one flat slip of plastic for another, the envelope half bobbling out of her hands before she manages to prise one of those little cards free.

And then, with a wave of her hand— well, a couple of waves, trying to figure out just how to place the card before she just presses it to the pad at the handle— she’s in. Except—

Except it’s not a bedroom. No, it’s a small living area, couch and TV and a half-wall of a kitchenette, a few chairs scattered around. Chizuru toes off her shoes, parking her suitcase neatly beside them, and peers into the next nearest door— bathroom, the glass enclosed shower tucked into one corner and a huge tub beside it, big enough to fit at least three of her inside without touching. She pads her way across, tiles cold even through her socks, and opens the other door, leading out into—

The bedroom, finally. The queen suite with what has to be the largest queen she’s ever seen.

Her fingers fumble her phone from its pocket, flicking past the lock screen straight to the camera—

Only for, anyone swallow their tongues yet?🤭 to flash right across the top of the screen.

There’s no costumes tonight, only a dinner! Tomorrow will be our first opportunity to be in character Though I don’t think anyone will be swallowing their tongues when I’m dressed as a boy 😅

Chizuru clicks back through to the camera, tapping the screen to focus, but—

“Are those leaves?” She blinks, first at the screen, and then, as she lowers it, the bed covers. Which, as she suspected, is littered with…some sort of nature. She steps close, pinching one velvety piece of detritus between her fingers and murmurs, “Petals?”

Well, she can’t have that.

boo have some confidence!!! you look super cute in that jinbei i bet *someone’s* heart will flutter at the very least

Her neck swivels, this way and that, trying to find someplace— anyplace— where it’s safe to put down her phone, hopefully close to hand, and— ah, there it is, the bedside table. She sets it down, turning back to the bed with a shake of her head. To think, in a hotel as nice as this one, they had just let someone track in half the outside with them.

It takes her a moment to find the trash can hidden beneath the table, but after that, it’s just a matter of goading all the plant stuff off the cover and into it. A bit more work than she thought she’d be putting into settling it, but it’s worth it to have a clean place to sit when Sen asks, is your room nice?

Very!!! I reserved a single, but it seems they had run out of them, so they gave me a free upgrade 😱 The room’s huge! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed this big!

With a proud grin tugging at her lips, Chizuru takes a quick picture of her newly cleaned covers and sends it off.

omg LOOK at that 😱😱 a real princess bed for hime-sama

Ah, she hadn’t thought of that. Her heels hook around the bed frame, knees cradled up against her chest, and— and Yamazaki might find that funny too, wouldn’t he? Hime-sama having her own palatial accommodations. It’s nothing to flick open his thread and attach the picture, thumb hovering over send—

the only question is who is going to warm hime-sama’s bed 😏

Heat floods her cheeks. What do you mean?

i hear what happens in feudal japan stays in feudal japan you have any idea who you’d like to share with 😏😏😏

I thought princesses didn’t have to share beds

😩 you’re killing me

It’s not new, being teased like this— about this even, not when she lives in a house with six men and a solid half of them only begrudgingly allow themselves to be clothed. But Sen won’t be placated with a blush and stuttered denial— no, once she gets a whiff of romance, she doesn’t know how to give up until she’s got it clenched between her teeth. And unless she wants to pick out one of the guys as her, er, target, well…

It’s funny though! When I got here there was stuff all over the bed

Distraction is the only way out.

stuff?? like…fluids??? gross 🤮 pls tell me you called housekeeping

No, no fluids thankfully! Just some leaf stuff I handled it myself! It took me a while, but I finally got all those little petals off 💪

leaf stuff? petals??

A knock startles her, enough that she finally sees 8% hovering in the corner, her screen flicking over into power saver mode.

“One minute!” she calls out, rummaging through her bag until her fingers catch on the charger cord, tugging it out—

And half of her travel bag. The knock comes again, no more insistent, but Chizuru’s sure it sounds impatient.

“Ah, just another minute, I just have to”— miss the outlet at least twice before she gets it seated— “do this—”

Her screen lights up, the charging icon taking the place of the percentage, and it immediately toots with, where are you staying again?

She has just enough time to dash off, Satsuma Estates, before the knock comes again, and she yelps, “Coming!”

She hurries over, nearly tripping on the corner of her suitcase, but she gets the door open.

“Good evening, Chizuru,” Hajime says, once she does. “It’s time for dinner.”

#yamachi #hakuouki #my fic #modern au #college au #if the mind is willing #LARP au #okay this chapter was not as MUCH unlimited OC works as anticipated #mainly because Chizuru's anxiety alone managed to triple my word count #so uhhhhhhh good for her i guess #but next time should be yamazaki POV. with LORE. and OCs #huzzah

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