#still not over the fact that mat canonically puts flowers in his hair

[theartbluebox]

UAF Secret Santa gift for @insomnia-productions. Mat and Rand back home, where nothing bad is happening, herding sheep being cute with flowers.

[varietysunsets]

My Right Hand Man

Pairing: Diavolo/Kira Yoshikage Rating: T Tags: Domestic AU (with stands!), canon-typical violence, vague descriptions of murder, fluff, enemies to lovers? 👀 Word count: 7700

Description: Kira gets blackmailed into spending Christmas with his new neighbours.

A/N: happy holidays @doctorrosalia, here’s your @jjba-secret-santa ! sorry that this is so long, i havent written since last year’s secret santa so i was a little backed up lol. try to stay safe and relax in these bizarre times 🍹

Read on AO3!

August 28th, 1999

It all began when Kira spotted the moving truck next door.

It was fancy—a name brand with about three or four men in matching uniforms hauling furniture inside the house. Nice-looking furniture, at that. Mostly black leather or white suede, practically new. Modernist style.

Kira couldn’t imagine why someone would move into their Morioh subdivision if they could afford furniture like that. Either they were broke and trying to overcompensate for the fact, or they recently came into money but still weren’t sure how to handle it. Personally, Kira hoped it was the former; if this new neighbour had exorbitant amounts of money, they would probably try to remodel the house. Kira dreaded to think about listening to a construction crew for weeks at a time.

Kira watched the moving crew for a good fifteen minutes while he sipped his coffee. The crew hauled in a large, plastic-wrapped mattress, followed shortly by another, much smaller one, too.

Kira nodded his head. His new neighbour had a child. That wasn’t surprising. A lot of people in the neighbourhood had families. This was a relatively safe place, after all.

The thought made Kira smile a bit. With another sip of coffee, he checked his watch. Almost time to leave.

The movers continued to do their work, steadily unloading the huge truck. As Kira went and rinsed out his mug, he realized that he hadn’t yet seen his new neighbours. And then, it came to him that he would need to learn the schedule of these new neighbours, too. That left a sour note in Kira’s mouth—before, an old man lived there with his extremely young girlfriend. It was easy to bypass them and do what he needed, because the man was senile and the girlfriend was never home, probably partying or seeing other men.

Kira drew a steady breath, calmed himself. He turned to the table, where his girlfriend sat. Stiff, perfect, angelic, almost. All negative feelings washed away from him.

Lovingly, he scooped her up and held her to his face. He kissed the back of the corpse hand, savoring the feel of her soft, cold skin against his lips. She was fresh and delightful; really, he didn’t need to worry about the new neighbours for now, his current girlfriend would last for a good week or so. Maybe longer.

With another quick kiss, Kira wrapped his girlfriend back up and returned her to the fridge. He straightened his tie, collected his briefcase, and went for the door.

He took his time locking the door outside, if only hoping that he might catch a glimpse of his new neighbour. Unfortunately, the curtains were drawn tight and there was no sign of them outside, so Kira began his commute to work curious and unsatisfied.

—30—

September 5th

A week passed. Still, Kira hadn’t seen any sign of life from his new neighbours’ house. Kira tried to break it down rationally, to find clues to tell him anything about these new people; he assumed there was only one parent, given the fact that the furniture brought in was near-immaculate, but missing any feminine touches. Possibly a single father. The problem with that was Kira hadn’t seen a parent or even a babysitter come or go yet. Given the time of year, the child would be out of school, so someone needed to be watching it.

There was so much mystery surrounding these people that it made Kira nervous. He tried to mind himself and rationalize his anxiety, but every time he passed a window, he found himself staring out at the neighbours, desperately grasping for anything he could find.

The only thing different he could see since the neighbours moved in were the slightly open purple butterfly curtains in one of the second-floor windows. Every other set of blinds or curtains were drawn, blocking the inside off from the rest of the world. It was frustrating, so frustrating.

After waking up, Kira did as he always did; he dressed, went to the kitchen to start his coffee, and pulled his girlfriend from the fridge. A rank smell followed her; black rot began to take the edges of her wrist. Kira’s heart sank with despair and disgust.

He couldn’t focus on this right now, otherwise he would get frazzled. Kira shut the fridge door and walked through the house, all the way to the back porch.

The early-morning air was fresh and warm outside. Calm emotions ebbed through him as he breathed steadily.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Kira caught movement in the neighbours’ backyard.

Kira tensed, though he knew he wasn’t in any danger. Killer Queen materialized behind him, set and ready as it peered over Kira’s shoulder. In the neighbours’ backyard was a young child walking around, easily only a kindergarten student or younger, with bright pink hair wearing a sundress.

Kira relaxed, even laughed inwardly at himself. He waved Killer Queen away, though the Stand stayed where it was. Curious, Queen drifted to the porch railing and leaned over, as if closely observing the child. At this point, Kira could have gone back into the house, but there was a strange nagging feeling inside him that made him stay put.

A quick survey of the neighbours’ backyard told Kira that this little girl was completely alone and unsupervised; no one was on the back porch, and as always, the blinds were drawn. Kira knew that he was the most dangerous thing in Morioh, yet he felt uncomfortable leaving the girl alone. Odd, because she wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest. Perhaps only to keep his illusion of being a good person, Kira quietly observed the girl a little more.

She explored around the yard, plucking grass and dandelions. Her curly hair was cropped short around her head, bright pink. Kira had never seen anything like it. Queen beside him stared intently, unblinking, like a cat watching prey.

The girl knelt, scooped another handful of flowers, then happened to turn around. Kira jolted slightly as they made eye contact. Queen jumped to hide behind Kira; the cold feeling of its hands grasped Kira’s shoulders. Without any idea of what to do, Kira waved at her gently.

The girl didn’t smile. Her chubby cheeks perched in an almost-frown, but her yellow eyes were bright. She raised one grassy hand and waved back.

Kira thought she was cute for a child. He never caught onto the baby craze or any particularly paternal instincts, but perhaps now he could understand why women swooned over them. He waved again, smiling softly, then lowered his hand. The little girl put her hand down, too. She kept staring, then decisively started walking towards Kira.

There was no real divide between their yards, only a small grassy slope leading to a shallow valley. Kira kept his yard immaculate and mowed, the neighbours’ grass was almost to the girl’s knees.

The girl made it within three feet of the divide when a man came around the corner of the house. Killer Queen dematerialized, and Kira stood up straight again.

The man was tall and lanky, but despite that, his arms were obviously defined under the sleeves of a black rock band t-shirt. He had a wild mat of long pink hair, and a sharp face with dark circles under hard set, black eyes.

At first glance, Kira could tell the man was his age, but somehow, he seemed much younger.

“Do you have a problem?” The man asked sharply, with an obvious Italian accent. He walked past the little girl and stood partially in front of her.

Kira was taken aback, but he kept his cool. He smiled slightly and bowed his head a little.

“No problems,” He assured the man. His mouth felt dry. “I was just standing here.”

“You were watching my daughter, like a pervert.” The man accused.

Kira almost reeled. His stomach curled at the accusation. “I wasn’t watching her... That way. She looked alone; I was just making sure that she didn’t wander off. No ill-intentions, I assure you.”

Kira sweat bullets under the hard, distrustful stare of his neighbour. It felt like forever before he finally spoke.

“You mind your business next time.” There was no threat attached to the end of the man’s statement, but Kira felt it in his tone.

Shivers rushed up Kira’s spine. Nothing normally scared him, certainly not people, but this man made him feel things. A little bit of fear, maybe excitement at his audacity. It wasn’t the type of attitude people usually took in Morioh, especially not with mild-natured Kira Yoshikage.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Kira offered, trying to recollect his composure. “I apologize that this is our first meeting.”

The man narrowed his eyes. He glared Kira up and down.

Kira forced a smile, even as he held his breath.

Without a word in reply, the man grabbed his daughter by the shoulder and ushered her back towards the house. “Come on, Trish,” he mumbled, so quiet Kira almost didn’t hear.

Trish went willingly, but not without casting one last glance at Kira. Expressionless, she waved.

Kira considered waving back, out of politeness, at least. But soon Trish and her father disappeared into the home again.

Killer Queen’s presence radiated behind Kira’s shoulder. Glancing back, Kira saw that Queen had its hand up, waving back at Trish. Kira rolled his eyes.

“Stop that. She can’t see you.”

Kira returned to his own house. Queen lingered a second longer, staring out unblinking at the lawn, before dissipating and following Kira.

—30—

October 12th

Summer fully ended, and with it came mild Autumn days. As always, Kira went to work, did his errands and chores, and over time he stopped thinking about his odd neighbours as much. He caught glimpses of them here and there, but hardly enough to focus on. Sometimes in the morning Kira saw Trish leave the house for school and join the other neighbourhood children for the commute. Other times, just after dusk, Kira caught glimpses of his strange neighbour creeping to the mailbox.

Through vague conversations with the mailman, Kira pieced together that his neighbour went by the nickname Diavolo. That was about the extent of what Kira really cared to find out; he knew this Diavolo’s schedule and that was all he needed.

So, life went on as usual for Kira.

He met a waitress at a restaurant with exceptionally beautiful hands. He stalked her home to a bustling apartment and strangled her before she had the chance to scream. Killer Queen disposed of the evidence, and the TV playing perfectly hid the sounds of carnage. The exhilaration from killing carried Kira all the way home as though he were walking on air. Kira kept his new prize nestled in his suit pocket; the lingering warmth from the corpse hand was delicious, and her skin was so soft when Kira stroked her.

Kira’s new girlfriend was exactly what he needed in his home; she fit in perfectly, like the missing piece to a puzzle. For the first time in what felt like forever, Kira was completely at peace.

Though every day of the following week was identical, Kira savoured it. Perfect peace in his quiet life, unnoticed and left alone—he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Before work on a Thursday morning, Kira checked his mailbox. He flipped through, sorting the junk from the important letters, almost mindlessly, until he got to an unmarked manilla folder at the bottom of the stack. Curious, Kira pursed his lips. He set the rest of his mail aside and opened the folder.

His heart stopped.

Inside were photographs. Photos of himself, taken through a window, kissing his girlfriend in his kitchen. Photos of him lovingly painting his girlfriend’s nails. Even photos of his girlfriend, from all angles, sitting out on the table and in the fridge, taken from inside his home.

Violent nausea washed over Kira. His stomach twisted into a knot, his chest clenched with anger. He wanted to collapse and scream and throw up all at the same time. Not only was he being watched, but whoever took these photos was inside his home. They touched his things and invaded his space, handled his girlfriend.

As Kira slid the photos back into the folder, he noted a letter tucked inside. Despite the waves of sickness washing through him, he managed enough coordination to read it.

And then he read it over again. And again. And Again.

The letter detailed extremely specific instructions for Kira. A time and place to be, down to the minute, and a gracious description of a man Kira was to kill, “however he usually does”. Then there were threats at the end—promises that Kira’s life would be upturned with the photographs and more if the task wasn’t completed, or if he tried anything suspicious. And that there would be more tasks to come later.

Kira couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Almost in a daze, he brought his mail into the house.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Kira gnawed his nails until blood seeped down his fingers and dripped onto the table. Easily, Kira could see himself falling into a slippery slope, constantly running around killing for this blackmailer until he either got caught or got himself killed. Unless he figured out who the blackmailer was and struck first.

When Kira snapped back to consciousness, his hand was covered in blood. He licked his lips, and then went to wash up.

He called out to work that day, his first sick call in months. Kira faked a cough and apologized profusely. His boss wished him well and told him to get some rest and feel better soon.

Kira had no intention of doing either. He spent the day fretting, thinking and mulling over the letter—one part on how to kill and another on how to find his blackmailer.

—30—

October 20th

All things considered, the kill was easy; the target was passed out drunk when Kira arrived. Kira rigged the home with bombs as instructed, and quickly he discovered why his blackmailer wanted this man killed.

The target’s home was littered with photographs—ironically, Kira assumed they were to be used for blackmail, too. He took a moment to examine a few and found that both his and his neighbour’s homes were pictured. Another showed his neighbour leaving the house, in one of his mad dashes for the mailbox.

Though he had many questions unanswered, some of the mystery clicked. Kira finished his task and fled the scene. He was long gone by the time firefighters arrived to put out the blaze that was the target’s home.

—30—

October 22nd

Another letter arrived mysteriously in Kira’s mailbox. Just as Kira feared, the slippery slope had begun.

Once again, the letter listed everything down to the minute detail; Kira was to leave his home at 1:35pm that day and arrive at a nearby park by 1:48. Apparently, the sender had measured the exact time window it would take to get there. As with the last letter, this one was incredibly detailed and well-written, until the very end, that is. The final line read,

Find a young man named Doppio.

Talk soon.

Kira was given no description, no call to action, nothing. What was he to do when he found this Doppio? How was he even supposed to find him? What if he couldn’t?

Worry wrought Kira’s body. He chewed his nails the entire walk to the park, despite trying his best to remain calm. The signs of a beautiful fall day were around him; golden leaves tumbled from the trees and danced in the gentle breeze. All he could think about was whether his not-so-secret blackmailer would expose him completely.

Kira got rushed by violent thoughts of what he might do to this Doppio person when he found him. He wanted nothing more than to use Killer Queen and erase this fool completely, but he couldn’t. There was too much he didn’t know yet. And there were people walking around everywhere in this park.

Most notably, a younger guy with purple hair and a matching sweater struggled to keep a little girl, wearing a backpack and child-leash, in check. He laughed nervously to himself and chided the child gently.

At first, Kira paid them no mind, until he looked closer; the child looked strangely familiar. He paused to observe and realized that the little girl on the leash was his next-door neighbour.

Trish noticed Kira staring first. She glanced over her shoulder and stopped tugging on her leash; instead, she waved her hand at Kira, expressionless and silent. The man with her glanced back as well.

He looked Kira over, then his eyes lit up.

“Oh! Oh!” He said. “You’re mister Yoshikage? Um— Kiri— No, Kira, right?”

Kira bristled slightly. He dug his nails into his palm, in an attempt to soothe the desire to chew them. “Kira Yoshikage, yes.”

The boy sighed deeply in relief. He smiled a weary grin and dropped his shoulders. “Oh, thank god. I’m Doppio. The boss told me to come find you. He said— ha! He said I’d find some old blond guy in a suit walking around the park like a creep. But you’re not— you’re a lot younger than I was expecting.” Doppio laughed awkwardly.

Kira stared at him. His expression slipped into something intense and unimpressed.

Doppio’s laughter petered off. He cleared his throat. Trish tugged viciously on her leash, in a desperate attempt to chase a stray cat strolling by.

“Um... Should we... Walk and talk?” Doppio offered. His body jerked as Trish pulled. “The boss gave me some stuff to talk about with you.”

Kira couldn’t explain the feeling inside his chest. It was a seething anger; not only was he being blackmailed, he had to deal with someone like... This. It was almost insulting, in a very specific way.

Outwardly, Kira tried to seem calm. He bowed his head briefly to Doppio.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

For the most part, Trish led the way. She jerked Doppio every so often, in some violent pursuit of this or that, and without fail every time Doppio laughed awkwardly and gave Kira a ‘what can you do?’ sort of glance.

There were a few people in the park, strolling around and enjoying the day. Normally, Kira blended in well with the crowd, but he felt now that walking beside Doppio and the unruly child made them the centre of attention. Kira’s palms sweated; Doppio remained oblivious that people may be staring at them.

“So... You got the boss’ letters pretty easy, huh?” Doppio said, as though he were making small talk. Trish jerked his arm again, as she rushed towards a small playground in the middle of the park.

Everything about this felt surreal to Kira, like he was living in a fever-dream, or inside a carnival mirror. Maybe this was an elaborate prank, or Kira’s tailored personal hell.

“I did.”

Doppio waited a second for Kira to say more, but when it became obvious that he had finished his statement, Doppio awkwardly filled the silence.

“Well, the boss told me he respects how quickly you got the job done. And effectively! He’s really impressed by you, mister Kira. He thinks you have a lot of potential.”

“That’s... Good.” Kira approached the conversation carefully, lest he accidentally offer unknown information.

Together, they approached the edge of the playground. Doppio knelt and unclasped the leash from Trish’s bookbag.

“Stay where I can see you,” Doppio said to her, but the moment she was free, Trish took off in a sprint towards the jungle gyms.

“If I can ask... Why didn’t your ‘boss’ come out here to meet me?” Kira inquired.

Doppio rolled the leash up in his hand and stood straight. “Oh, uh— he doesn’t really like being out in public, he’s kind of a hermit. But! This is confidential, I promise you can trust in me. I know everything, I won’t rat you out.”

Doppio led them over to some benches on the outskirts of the playground. No one else was around. Despite his weariness, Kira sat beside Doppio.

“I know I don’t seem very trustworthy, and you probably think I’m kind of a dork,” Doppio continued. Kira side-glanced at him. “But I’m Diavolo’s right-hand man. The only reason he sent me out here is because he doesn’t want any more paper trails, get it? This whole ordeal is pretty hush-hush.”

“Diavolo.” Kira repeated softly to himself. That confirmed it. He crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on his knee. “What does he want from me?”

Doppio fiddled with the leash in his hand. He watched Trish run around closely, in case she made a break for it.

“More jobs. The boss has a lot of enemies, you know? But he’s lying low right now, he can’t risk dealing with it himself.”

“Then why would he pick me, a complete stranger?”

Doppio laughed a little. “It’s not like you’ve never met. You live right next door, after all. It’s easier to keep track of you and everything.”

Silence settled between them. For a long second, Doppio and Kira stared at each other. In the background, gravel crunched as Trish fell off the monkey bars, only to quickly jump up and try again.

As the silence and its implications seeped in, Doppio’s expression dropped. Horror etched across his face.

“Oh, shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that. I— I...”

“I already figured that out,” Kira offered. His methods were always perfect, he had no enemies, no reason for anyone to suspect him; it only made sense that his new neighbour, Diavolo, the only new thing in his otherwise perfect life, was the cause of it all.

Doppio seemed slightly relieved, but still there were some hints of terror in his expression. He fiddled more with his hands and glanced around nervously. Then, he started to mutter, “Ring, ring, ring...”

Kira blinked. Doppio got up and paced, all while muttering to himself.

That was one way to leave a conversation cold, Kira thought.

“Ring, ring... Where is it...?”

Almost triumphantly, Doppio picked up a crushed, empty soda can. He put it to his ear and said, “Hello? Doppio speaking.”

Despair settled in Kira’s stomach. He was supposed to trust this man? This entire interaction already felt like a slap in the face, but this was too much. Kira hoped even more now that this was an elaborate prank, or maybe even just a long dream that he would soon wake up from.

Doppio’s eyes lit up. “Boss! Oh— yeah, yeah, he’s here. One sec.”

Doppio turned to Kira and held the can out.

“He wants to talk to you,” Doppio said.

At this point, Kira didn’t know what to think. He felt a thousand eyes staring at him, even though there were only a few people walking around, ignoring them.

Despite the absurdity of this, Kira took the can. Under Doppio’s expectant gaze, he put the can to his ear and said, “...Yes?”

“Yoshikage.”

Kira jolted. Directly in his ear was the voice of his neighbour—Diavolo. Deep and calm, yet heavy and serious.

Kira jerked his eyes to Doppio; the man stood there smiling, waiting patiently. Only then did Kira notice that one of Doppio’s eyes wasn’t quite right—the pupil was darker, twitching, in an uncanny familiar way.

“Listen to me, Yoshikage.” Diavolo whispered to him. Kira watched Doppio’s face the entire time; his lips moved with the speech. “You’re going to do exactly as Doppio says. If you lay a hand on my Doppio or my daughter, I will ruin your life in such a specific way that you will wish you were dead.”

Panic and fear gripped Kira’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

“Doppio has more power than you realize, and he will not hesitate to use it against you. And don’t forget, I have your life in the palm of my hand. Check your mailbox when you get home.”

Kira lowered the can from his ear and stared, shocked, at Doppio.

Doppio smiled back innocently. Both his eyes matched again, the irises a bright golden colour.

Kira couldn’t find the words to speak even if he wanted to. Doppio’s smile was almost haunting.

“Let’s talk about your next task then, mister Kira.”

—30—

November 1st

A woman this time, and a pretty one, at that. She had beautiful skin and excellent, gorgeous hands. Manicured. Adorned in expensive rings and a bracelet. Kira imagined she was a pianist, or even a harpist. Something about the delicate nature of her hands led Kira to believe she played an equally regal instrument.

Even though he was there on business, Kira saw no problem with keeping her hands. It would be a waste otherwise, he thought. After some quiet contemplation, and comparing them both, Kira settled on taking the left hand; her right index finger had a broken nail, while the left was completely intact.

Kira finished the job with a quiet blast from Killer Queen. He went home satisfied, with his new girlfriend safely tucked into his blazer.

As soon as Kira stepped into his home, the phone rang.

Confused, Kira glanced at the time; it was late, far later than when he usually got calls of any kind. Wearily, Kira moved to the phone on the wall and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Kira Yoshikage.” Diavolo greeted. “Did you have fun tonight?”

Kira felt shivers go down his spine. He considered hanging up, but something kept him standing there, waiting for Diavolo to say more.

And he did.

“I assume you did. Did you bring home a souvenir, by chance?”

Kira’s stomach wretched a bit. “What do you want? Can’t I have an evening in peace?”

Diavolo laughed. “Oh, sure. I don’t have another task for you yet, I just wanted to thank you for your work. Based on your reaction, I assume you got my gift.”

“...What do you mean?”

“I picked her out special for you, couldn’t you tell?” Diavolo stated, as though it were obvious. He laughed again, a haunting sound. “You’re a despicable man, Yoshikage, pretty perverted, but your taste is obvious.”

Suddenly, the corpse hand in Kira’s pocket felt impossibly heavy.

“No need to thank me,” Diavolo continued. “I’m sure you’re beyond grateful. I have nothing else for you right now, but we’ll be in touch. Ciao.”

Diavolo hung up, leaving Kira standing there, stunned into silence. Up until now, he assumed that everything about Diavolo was despicable. Weird and despicable. This, however, felt bittersweet; possibly the strangest gift anyone had ever gotten Kira, but also... The most thoughtful.

Kira didn’t want to dwell on it for too long. He did his best to push it out of his head, to Zen out while he went about his nightly routine.

Still, his mind wandered back to Diavolo. The strange gift. His deep voice.

It all haunted Kira, but not necessarily in a bad way.

—30—

December 10th 1:15pm

Over the course of the next month, Diavolo’s tasks shifted from murderous in nature to more... Domestic.

It was frustrating and borderline insulting at first that Kira was expected to go around collecting dry-cleaning and groceries—Kira was much more than someone’s errand-boy—but at the same time, Diavolo found intriguing ways to reward Kira for his service. Money and dropped hints to help him find new targets, always beautiful and model-worthy, in Kira’s opinion.

Though originally he despised Diavolo, now Kira couldn’t help but see some merit in the strange man, at least as far as his taste went and little else.

That being said, Kira’s next task was... Unexpected.

Kira got the call while he was at work, which jarred him, but he supposed that he shouldn’t expect any less from Diavolo at this point.

“Hello, Yoshi.” Diavolo’s voice pierced through Kira, giving him a gut-reaction shiver.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Does it make your skin crawl? You should consider it a term of endearment. I think more people should call you it.”

Kira sighed. “These calls are recorded, you know.”

Diavolo sounded amused. “I figured. I need a favour of you.”

Kira glanced casually over his shoulder. Though his expression remained calm, his palms started to sweat.

“A favour?” Kira ventured carefully.

Diavolo hummed in his ear. “I need you to pick Trish up from school today. And then take her to go get Christmas decorations for an hour or so.”

Kira furrowed his brows. As Diavolo spoke, Kira poked his pointer finger to his lips and chewed the nail.

“This is an odd favour from you,” Kira muttered, choosing his words carefully.

“I know. But you’re the only person I trust to do this.”

Kira wanted to laugh. Diavolo trusted him? Given the chance, Kira would strangle him and chop him to bits, then use Killer Queen to erase all evidence that he existed. He wouldn’t hesitate.

Yet at the same time, deeper down, Kira felt hesitation. He tried to play it off as self-sustaining worry, but he knew better.

Eventually, Kira replied, “I get off work at four.”

“Good. I’ll see you later tonight, then.” Then, Diavolo teased, “If anything happens to Trish, I’ll skin you.”

Kira chuckled at that, even though he knew that Diavolo was completely serious.

—30—

December 10th 4:25pm

Trish had no emotion and no expression when Kira came to pick her up. She left the other children playing on the playground without looking back and willingly approached Kira’s car. She was bundled up warmly in a jacket with matching splash pants and a knit hat.

“Hi Yoshi.”

Kira pursed his lips. “You ought to call me ‘mister Kira’ instead.”

Trish frowned and took an attitude to her tone. “Papa told me to call you Yoshi.”

“It’s more respectful for you to call me Kira.”

Trish paused a long moment. She pulled the knit hat off her head, revealing a tangle of short, frizzy pink hair.

“I’m gonna call you Yoshi,” she said decisively.

Kira couldn’t believe the audacity of this brat.

“At least call me ‘Yoshikage’.”

Trish wrinkled her nose. “Yoshi.”

Kira gritted his teeth. His mind was plagued by violent thoughts, and his hands twitched at his sides. Inside his chest, he felt Killer Queen itching to be released.

“Didn’t your father teach you to respect your elders?” Kira asked calmly instead.

Trish glanced up at Kira. Her expression soured further, and she stuck her tongue out.

“He told me I’m not s’pposed to go anywhere with strangers. Where’s uncle Doppio?”

“I’m not sure,” Kira said, holding in his annoyance. He opened the car door and ushered Trish inside. “We’ll have to ask your father later.”

Trish crossed her arms and pouted. After getting buckled in and settled, she stared angrily out the back window as they drove.

“...Is your ghost still following you?” Trish eventually asked.

Kira glanced back at her through the rear-view mirror. “I’m sorry? My ghost?”

“Yeah. The pink one.”

“I don’t have a ghost following me,” Kira lied.

“It waved at me,” Trish continued to say. She stared hard at the back of Kira’s head, as though it would make the ‘ghost’ in question appear. “It was big and pink and had kitty ears.”

Kira’s hands were clammy. He felt Killer Queen swell inside his chest, almost desperate to materialize after being talked about. Kira pushed it down.

“You have a wild imagination. There are strange things in this world, but I doubt ghosts are one of them.”

Trish didn’t seem satisfied with that answer fully, but seemingly she took it. To stave off further questioning, Kira turned the radio on. It worked well enough, until they reached their outlet mall destination.

Normally, Kira avoided the mall whenever possible, especially around the holiday season. It was too busy for his liking and the appeal of Christmas never really resonated with him personally; if anything, it felt like a waste of time. However, his anonymity laid on the line, so Kira put forth a forced smile.

“Your father wants you to pick out some Christmas decorations.” Kira told Trish. “Do you have any ideas of what you’d like?”

Trish shook her head. She intentionally looked away from Kira as they walked through the bustling mall.

Kira seethed quietly. He led Trish towards a specialty knick-knack store and shooed her in. “Well, think about it. Let’s look around.”

There was no shortage of Christmas decorations in the store. Everything was covered in red or green tinsel, doused with fake foam snow. Sparkly ornaments and colourful decorations flashed and sang everywhere. Kira couldn’t help being a little overwhelmed by the amount of pure, unadulterated Christmas spirit he was surrounded by.

Finally, Trish’s expression shifted slightly. Though she didn’t smile fully, she did seem mildly impressed by everything. She wandered further into the store, following singing snowmen and dancing Santa’s.

Kira tried to follow, but easily became distracted. For the most part, he wondered about how anyone could find these annoying traditions endearing. Personally, Kira preferred modest, if any, Christmas decorations and quiet nights by himself throughout the holidays.

While Kira wasn’t paying attention, Killer Queen materialized. It lingered behind Trish, glancing around and inspecting her as she admired a wall of Christmas tree ornaments. Curiously, it reached its hand out to swat her shoulder.

Kira caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could stop Queen, a separate entity appeared. All Kira saw was a flash of hot pink before it reeled back and punched Queen full force in the mouth.

At the exact same time, Kira also felt the punch being delivered on himself. The force made him reel, lose his balance, crash to the ground. Thankfully, no one else was in the aisle to stare and gape. Pain ebbed through Kira’s face, anger and confusion welled up inside his chest.

Kira stared at Trish in utter disbelief, clutching his jaw.

For the first time since Kira had met her, Trish emoted. She decisively picked a sparkly, pink disco-ball ornament off the shelf and held it close to her chest. She looked Kira over, and then said with a smile, “I have a ghost, too.”

—30—

December 10th 6:01pm

Kira wanted to drop Trish off on the doorstep and vacate. However, before he could he even ring the doorbell, Doppio threw the door open. He seemed flustered, his face slick with sweat and his smile wild and nervous. He had his sleeves rolled up his elbow. Kira noted a small, dark stain on the bottom hem of his sweater.

“Oh! Mister Kira, perfect timing. I was just cleaning up. Come inside, won’t you?” As Doppio spoke, Trish took the chance to slip inside. She brushed by Doppio, and he acknowledged her by ruffling her hair and saying, “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

Kira awkwardly held a paper bag of assorted ornaments and decorations by his side. His jaw still throbbed from the assault earlier.

“I don’t want to impose,” Kira said, though deep inside he wanted nothing more than to see the inside of Diavolo’s home; even just a glimpse would suffice.

Doppio opened the door further. He ushered Kira inside. “Not at all! Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Kira did come inside, and though normally he felt uncomfortable in barrages of social settings, he felt quite relaxed now. Maybe it was the relief of moving from a bustling mall to somewhere much, much quieter. Maybe it was that in combination with the excitement of finally seeing Diavolo’s home.

Doppio motioned Kira in and closed the door behind him. He smiled, and led the way towards the living room. The walls were crisp white and mostly clean; Kira noted a few criminal spots where crayon was smudged low on the walls.

“Did you want a coffee or a tea or anything?” Doppio asked. Obviously, he was just as excited about having guests as Kira was to be there.

“Tea would be nice. Whatever you have.”

Doppio grinned and nodded. “Okay! Sure, one sec. The boss’ll be right down, too.”

“No rush.”

Kira glanced around the living room, openly taking in everything that he could see. There was an odd dissociation between the niceness of the furniture and the children’s toys laying around on the floor. A collection of Barbie dolls lay discarded in the middle of the floor, along with an open case of pink glittery makeup, dangerously close to spilling on a lovely white carpet. In the very-most corner of the living room was a tall, fake Christmas tree; unsurpising, Kira doubted Diavolo would manage to find a real Christmas tree in Morioh. Upon closer inspection, Kira noted that there were drops of blood on one of the branches. And below, the floor was sparkling clean, but still wet; obviously recently cleaned.

Kira couldn’t help wondering what happened here. Potentially something to do with the fact Diavolo needed someone to pick up and distract Trish.

“Good to see you again.”

Kira twisted around. Diavolo stood in the doorway of the living room, and it occurred to Kira then that he hadn’t actually seen Diavolo since their first meeting. Kira’s heart skipped a nervous little beat, which he chose to ignore.

Diavolo looked much more well put-together than he did before. His hair was combed and fell neatly across his shoulders, his lipstick looked rushed but still befitting. Kira noted that along with a mesh shirt, he wore the same pants as Doppio.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Diavolo continued. He offered out a mug of tea to Kira. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable while you’re here.”

Kira took the mug cautiously. Kira couldn’t help noticing that Diavolo painted his nails black; sloppily, at that. Kira tried not to let it linger in his mind, but as he sat down on a white suede chair, he couldn’t help thinking that, given the chance, he could have painted Diavolo’s nails much nicer. That thought, Kira realized, would probably haunt him for a while.

Diavolo took the paper bag of ornaments and brought it to the tree. He rooted through it, nodding his head.

“Excellent. I appreciate your help, Yoshikage.

“You know, you’re the only person who calls me by my first name.” Kira stated over the lip of his tea. “Everyone else has enough respect to call me Kira. I don’t even know how you found my full name.”

Diavolo grinned. He procured a box of white Christmas bulbs from the bag and turned it over in his hands.

“I respect you,” Diavolo said. “People I don’t respect don’t get referred to by name at all. And it wasn’t hard; I have my ways.”

“The same way you found my work phone number?”

“Exactly. You’re quick, Yoshi. That’s why I like you.”

Diavolo opened the box of bulbs. Kira’s eyes followed his hands; they were slender, with long fingers and smooth skin. Hands that hadn’t seen a day of hard labour in a long time, Kira figured. Aesthetically, they were perfect.

Kira forced himself not to stare. Live hands seldom intrigued him, but something about Diavolo’s seemed different. Perhaps it helped that he was an attractive man, even if his personality could be annoying and almost abrasive.

“Doppio said you liked me because I’m easy to control and watch over.” Kira said, to distract himself. He looked around the room, away from Diavolo’s working hands.

“Give yourself more credit. That’s only part of the reason.” Diavolo said. He placed another bulb on the tree. “You’re self-motivating, and handsome, too. I like surrounding myself with beautiful people.”

Kira sputtered on his tea. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. It left a mixed-feeling in Kira’s chest, wherein he felt pleased by the acknowledgement but also startled.

Diavolo looked back over his shoulder. “And look, you’re good with children, too. I took a chance on you with that, but I didn’t have many options today.” He smiled. “Work related business, you see.”

“I see,” Kira muttered, still processing this all. Deep down, Kira felt... Giddy. Excited, almost. He shouldn’t have, but he did. He couldn’t help it.

Little footsteps came running down the hall. Trish appeared in the living room door, having ditched her school uniform and winter clothes in favour of a princess play-dress.

“I wanna decorate the tree.” She said, intensely.

As if nothing had happened up until then, Diavolo nodded. “Go ahead. It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

Kira then sat there, quietly processing the entire interaction, while Diavolo helped Trish decorate the tree with sparkling, mis-matched ornaments.

—30—

December 24th

The phone rang. Thinking nothing of it, Kira pulled himself up from his seat and went to answer. He kept his eyes on his TV program the entire time.

“Hello, Kira residence.”

“Ah, so you are alone tonight.”

Kira pursed his lips. “Can I help you, Diavolo?”

“I want you to come over.”

“Right now? I’m in the middle of something.”

“You’re watching TV by yourself. Christmas is a time to spend with friends and family.”

Kira quirked a small smile. “Are we friends and family? Also, it’s considered rude here to spy on your neighbours.”

“Close your curtains next time. Are you coming?”

The TV shifted into a commercial. Kira turned towards the window instead; through a crack in Diavolo’s curtains, Kira spotted a sliver of pink hair peeking back at him.

“Why not come over here and ask me in person?” Kira inquired. He picked up the remote and flicked his TV off. “Or leave a letter under my door.”

“This does just as well, doesn’t it?” Diavolo shot back. His smirk could be heard through his tone. “I’ll see you shortly?”

Kira hummed. “I suppose.”

“Good.”

Life was certainly strange for Kira right now. He hung up the phone and slipped his shoes on instead. Over his shoulder, he casted a glance towards his girlfriend, sitting still on the table in front of the TV. Kira blew her a little kiss; he didn’t want her to become jealous, after all.

Snow blanketed the ground outside; it crunched under Kira’s shoes as he crossed the lawn to his neighbour’s home.

With Kira’s help earlier that week, Doppio had outfitted the porch and doorway with sparkling Christmas lights. They glittered and glowed as Kira knocked on the door.

Diavolo appeared almost instantly. He was dressed nicely in a dark button-up and matching pants.

“You could have just come in,” Diavolo said, stepping aside.

“It feels more professional to knock, I think.” Kira replied.

Diavolo smiled. “This is a professional visit?”

Kira quickly looked Diavolo up and down. “You’re dressed like it is.”

“I enjoy looking nice. And you look...” Diavolo stepped close, more into Kira’s space than Kira would allow from anyone else. He plucked the shoulder of Kira’s purple sweatshirt. “...Comfortable.”

Diavolo’s fingers only barely brushed Kira’s shoulder. A small shiver ran through him, unnoticed.

They stood close to each other for only a moment, before Diavolo took a half step back.

“Glass of wine?” He offered.

“I don’t drink, really.”

“It’s wine, Yoshi, not hard liquor. Children drink wine.” Diavolo said that as he slipped into the kitchen.

Kira followed him with his eyes and said, puzzled, “No, I don’t think they should.”

Diavolo laughed at that. Kira smiled to himself, pleased, as he went for the living room. He sat on the couch, facing towards the TV and the twinkling Christmas tree.

“Trish is asleep, I take it.” Kira said.

“Long asleep.” Diavolo replied, as he came into the room. He sat down beside Kira and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. His hand laid close to Kira’s shoulder; close enough that Kira almost felt its presence. “Waiting for Santa now.”

Kira nodded towards the plate sitting on the coffee table. “That explains the milk and cookies.”

“Trish insisted. I can’t stand sweets, so help yourself.” Diavolo sipped his wine, then said, “Maybe next year we can leave Santa a bottle of ‘92 vintage.”

Kira chuckled. Diavolo’s hand was in the very corner of his vision, close enough to touching him that it made Kira’s heart race. He tried to play it cool, though he had no doubt Diavolo knew exactly what he was doing.

Diavolo lifted his glass to his lips again. Kira glanced, then shifted his gaze between Diavolo’s perfectly painted black lips and how delicately he held the glass stem. Effortlessly. Kira wanted to stroke and hold Diavolo’s fingers the same way he held the glass.

“It’s not... Easy for me to make genuine connections with people,” Diavolo admitted. Kira quirked his brow with interest. “But meeting you... It’s been nice.”

“Meeting is a bit of a stretch,” Kira commented. Despite this, he still clung to every word Diavolo said. “Blackmail is more accurate.”

Diavolo waved his hand dismissively, dangerously close to Kira’s face.

“It still stands. I’m glad I met you, Kira Yoshikage. I feel like we’ve helped each other in a lot of different ways.”

Kira nodded his head. “You aren’t wrong, I suppose...”

Diavolo grinned. He raised his glass of wine and shifted ever-so closer to Kira.

“Here’s to another year of violent success for us,” Diavolo said.

Kira leaned forward and took the glass of milk left out. He raised that and clinked it against Diavolo’s.

“No pun intended, I hope.”

Amused, Diavolo drank. His lipstick left a black mark around the rim of the glass. Then, with a sigh, Diavolo leaned forward and set his glass down. When he came back, he gave Kira a cocky look.

“...Would you believe me if I said that there was a mistletoe above you?”

Kira scoffed with a smile. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Diavolo smirked. “Would asking for a kiss be out of place?”

Kira, amused, lowered his glass. Diavolo did the same. With a carefully practiced elegance, Kira swept up Diavolo’s hand in his own. He wrapped his fingers beneath the wrist, his thumb stroked the soft flesh there. Likewise, he felt Diavolo’s pulse pump.

“Not... Per se.” Kira sighed, his heart racing to hold such a warm hand. It was unusual, but in a new, exciting way. He brought Diavolo’s hand up to his lips and adorned it with a kiss.

Diavolo smiled. Kira smiled back.

[eat0crow]

Marigolds

Summary:

Marigolds-the flower of the dead. They are used to guide spirits visiting the land of the living.

Marinette is used to weird, she's no stranger to spirits. Even so, she never imagined she would meet her soulmate like this

Chapter 1

“Wow, didn’t think magic girls were actually a thing. Good to know.” Is the first thing Marinette hears after she drops her transformation.

Which makes no sense because Marinette is completely, one hundred and ten percent sure that Tikki was the only living thing in this room with her. She’s careful to check than double-check. The tape she had left along the window had still been intact when she entered it. The powder she dusted her hatch with hadn’t been disturbed.

The only thing out of place is the chill in the air, it’s bone-deep like something leaching the life out of the room. A cold current that makes something in Marinette’s brain tingle. Chat would call it fur rubbed wrong, it’s the closest Marinette can come to describing the sensation.

No one should be in the room with her.

Her identity must be maintained at all costs, she takes precautions to ensure it. None of them have been bypassed.

“Got to say I dig the suit,” the voice says completely indifferent to how she’s tensed. Marinette can’t place it. “It’s a little gaudy sure, but hey we can’t all be the Dark Knight. I get the appeal even, flashy, attention-grabbing, it’s a nice stick.”

Marinette can’t breathe, she’s not sure what exactly to do. The voice is coming from behind her. It was relaxed, casual if a bit hollow, like this was the sort of thing that happened every day.

“Maybe not the safest option. You're like a freaking stop sign. How does that work, like sure the Robin costume is a bold as hell traffic light but that’s the point, you know? Draw away the gunfire so the big bad Bat can swoop in a knock them all on their asses.”

Marinette narrows her eyes. Because while knowledge of the Justice League is expected to some extent. Their world-renowned, it would be hard not to have heard of them with all the earth ending disasters they’ve put a stop to, the lack of knowledge is surprising. Everyone in Paris knows who Ladybug is.

The fact that he doesn’t seem to, it sets off a red flag in Marinette’s mind. One that makes her fingers twitch with nervous energy even though her muscles are locked in place. Frozen over by manic fear.

“It’s funny, you’re acting almost as if you can hear me. I’m not complaining, talking to myself gets boring fast, trust me on that one. Bats isn’t anywhere close to great company.”

Marinette turns. Reclined back on her chaise is a boy. He’s tall, taller than Adrien, probably taller than Luka even, with windswept black hair that falls into his eyes. Eyes that are so blue they’re the first thing she really notices about him. They glow iridescent, demanding attention and focus and….

The next thing she notices just as he opens his mouth again is the blood.

“Wait,” He says slowly, his words tentative. “You can see me, it’s not just the isolation talking here. You can see me.”

The blood dripping down from his matted hair onto the bruises that line his cheeks.

“Am I not supposed to?” Marinette asks, her voice shaky.

The blood bubbling out from fresh burns.

“No,” his voice is just as uncertain. “You really shouldn’t.”

She thinks her reaction is more than justified. Even if her screaming makes the boy pop out of existence and sends her parents racing up the stairs.

.

Her parents leave her after a few minutes. Buying her excuses of spider, spider I saw the biggest spider under my desk. It had so many legs! without much fuss.

Tikki comes out of her hiding place shortly after they disappear down the stairs. There’s a look in her eyes, one that Marinette’s seen maybe a handful of times in the two years she’s held her Miraculous.

It’s a look that comes with answers. Answers that scare Marinette far more than the questions ever did. The first time Tikki’s eyes glinted like this Marinette transformed for the first time. The last time, Marinette met the guardian and begun training to take his place.

This is the look Tikki gives her when she’s about to be trusted with a secret that changes everything.

She hates this look.

Marinette's still standing in the middle of her room staring vacantly at her chaise. “Tikki who was that.”

“That’s not what you should be asking Marinette,” Tikki says looking at Marinette with a keen eye.

Often enough Tikki will watch Marinette like she’s waiting for something. What that something is, Marinette doubts she truly will ever know, that she’ll even want to know. Maybe it’s due to the magic that binds Tikki to the role of guide, which forces her to needle Marinette into asking the right questions in order to get her half-answers.

Tikki is a god. No matter how kind she is, no matter how much she cares for Marinette, her games are not optional.

Marinette will never be able to refuse Tikki, not after having spent years as her patron.

“I saw him,” Marinette chokes out, “I saw him Tikki.”

“That’s good Marinette, I saw him too.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“No.” Tikki pauses, brushing the hair out of Marinette’s face. “I’ve seen others, yes. But not him.”

“Others, who else-”

Tikki cuts her off with a little tut. “Marinette, you’re still focusing on the wrong question.”

Genies were most likely based on the Kwami. They’re all a fickle bunch, hiding behind double meanings and exact wording. It’s hard to figure out just what question Tikki wants her to ask the right question, the exact right question. She can’t tell her the who the why would be pointless to ask about. Marinette knows Tikki will only answer with something having to do with fate. So what's left is…

She breaks her staring contest with the chaise, turning to meet Tikki’s eyes. “What was he.”

“You’re still not quite there. You, humans, are always a lot of whats depending on the when. I could say child or man or soulmate or-”

This time Marinette is the one to cut Tikki off. “He can’t be my soulmate. You said Ladybugs and Black Cats are always connected.”

“And you are. A lot of Ladybugs find their soulmates outside of their Black Cats. There’s a lot of different ways to be connected Marinette, most people have more than one thread attached to their soul, my bugs especially so. Not all threads are soulmates.”

“What does that make Chat Noir than?” Marinette asks.

“Nothing besides what he is now, soulmates aren’t the end all be all, you know. They’re not the soul the completes you, they’re just the soul that fits best around you. They’re a possibility, your hearts still your own.”

“So even though he’s my soulmate…” Marinette trails off.

“Not is, was,” Tikki says, her voice sad. “That’s the when.”

“Was.” She can feel her throat closing up around her words. “What is he now.”

Even as she asks it, Marinette knows the answer. It’s in the corner of her mind, right along the edge snuggled tightly against secrets like Chat Noir’s identity and the real reason Master Fu has lived nearly two hundred years.

She doesn’t want to put a name to the feeling the boy had stirred in her. She doesn’t want to put a name to what the boy is. She doesn’t want to acknowledge the end of a possibility that never truly started to begin with.

Names have power, it’s why their titles are so important. Once she says it. Once the word claws past the dark barbed parts of her mind and out her mouth there will be no going back.

Tikki has never been afraid to do what Marinette can’t, she’s a spirit after all. Humanity is something she observes and doesn’t understand.

“He is a ghost silly,” Tikki says.

It’s an end, one marked before anything had ever had the chance to begin. It shouldn’t hurt but all the same, Marinette feels a part of her heartache. The part of her that's still so heartbreakingly young wants to cry over how unfair this all this.

The part of her that’s grown up much to fast, faster than anyone should have to, stops her from mourning. Life is not fair, the Kwami have no interest in silly things like that. Fair is a concept that Tikki won’t get.

Fair is something that no one gets.

Marinette doesn’t get any sleep that night either.

Notes:

I really wanted to play with the prompt "when they die your soulmate comes to haunt you" . It had so much potential so while my insides said 15k one-shot my heart said nope we're gonna milk it. I needed to get some multi-chapter practice in any way.

Also because Jason is currently 21 in the canon universe I will say this takes place when he dies, which is 15 according to his death certificate. Marinette is also 15, she's had her Miraculous for 2 years now after receiving it at 13. I feel no guilt in destroying the show's timeline to suit my needs, not when the episodes don't care about continuity.

[olivia-anderson-gifted]

Chapter 1: Teaming up with a criminal she hates? A good plan, truly

Edit: Yeah, remember how I said the beginning hasn’t changed in a while?

Well... heh...

But still, enjoy this slightly less canon chapter anyways.

“No one knows the exact moment or reason why the Gifted became this way.

“Some believe it was the consistent radiation due to the nuclear war in 1948; with the chemicals floating through the air and giving a few who survived abilities to gain the upper hand. This combat led to the planet we live in today. According to elders, there used to be an abundance of resources and technology, but the wars had decimated nearly everyone who knew how even an ‘automobile’ worked and the fuel required to use them was impossible to obtain.

“Others think it was an insane mutation that occurred in our species, not unlike the anomaly that caused humans to have larger brains and become more developed than many other species of their time. This is my personal belief, because, from what I can infer out of the 100 years of suffering, Gifts seem to be somewhat passed down within families.

“Still more believe it to have been geneticists of the era splicing genes of certain species beyond recognition, and they forced the Gifted to be a reality instead of one’s nightmare. Though, this is unlikely, due to the amount of the Giftless who have given birth to a Gifted person.

“A minuscule fraction of people think humans got it by mating with animals in order to obtain those traits and therefore gain a biological advantage. Those ones are, undeniably, incorrect. I’m pretty sure the constant exposure to radiation messed with their minds.

“But what truly are Gifts? They are, to state it simply, magical abilities. Usually, they develop by age ten, but they tend to crop up around five years old — typically adding features that hadn’t been there beforehand. They currently have little to no history, but they’ve started becoming more and more varied throughout the generations (or maybe that’s just because people are more willing to have kids now)-.”

Cal Montello looked up from his book just in time to avoid getting trampled by a horse. “I thought you were paying attention for us,” he whined at his twin, but the slight smile on his face told her that he wasn’t really all that upset. He probably should have been, he had almost gotten run over, but since it hadn’t happened he didn’t care. Crisis averted, stay tuned for next time to see whether or not he got killed.

“Technically, it is your turn to pay attention,” she argued. “Besides, why are you even reading that book? The author sounds biased.”

“Well, Mrs. Plinthe happens to agree with this bias. If I’m writing two, five page essays tonight I’d better get a perfect score.” While their mentor had never been particularly lenient on them, she had amped up her teaching style the past year, and it took an undeniable toll on him: even makeup could hardly conceal the dark circles under his eyes. Alexia certainly pitied him, but she couldn’t help being grateful that she had been born twenty minutes later — she did not envy him in the slightest. She’d take not having to try over a crown any day.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a banquet tonight, though?”

“Er… probably,” he said after a few moments.

The iron gates of the castle came into view and, as if by magic, all the broken down homes and beggars seemed to disappear into neatly rolling hills, flowered gardens, and pathways lined by clean homes. People still bustled about with the same urgency, but they tended to keep their distance from everyone around them. A few chanced waves at the twins, who smiled and waved back to seem polite, but none approached them.

The pair slumped unanimously as they reached the gates. They passed through, a stiff silence between the two siblings as they sulked through the gardens, a pair of bodyguards on their heels.

Their guards left them without a word, joining the others walking along tiny footpaths into the flowers.

The royals pretended not to notice a gardener attempting to cover up what they assumed to be a plant that had died to the Frost. Most humans had expected a wasteland full of mutated creatures but instead had gotten a nuclear winter. Humans had only survived by going into hiding with a few domesticated animals.

The snow made the castle look warm and inviting. That’s what snow does, right?

Despite the exterior, the castle was gorgeous once you made it inside. Flowering plants dotted the rooms, giving much-needed splashes of color. Smiling portraits were hung in every room. Stone floors were decorated with bright mosaics. Numerous attendants could be found in any given room.

They hounded the pair the moment they recognized their faces in the door.

“Alexia, would you like us to iron your dress for you?”

“Your hair must be fixed.”

“Cal, what did the queen say about you wearing those glasses in public? And where are your contacts?”

The twins had never had a normal life, but they figured it felt something like having a hundred moms around the moment they got home… except for the fact that they only did it in order to be paid.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Ah, no, thank you all, though. I would like to be alone for a minute, then I’ll work on my appearance.”

Alexia crossed her arms over her chest. “Won’t you need help getting into your outfit?”

“I want to be alone with Cheshire to recharge a bit. I will call someone when I need help… but thank you. See you later, Alex,” he chirped. He gave her one last kiss on the cheek before he disappeared down the many halls. Alexia didn’t think much of it.

Until he wasn’t at the party, that is.

Once a week the queen met with the other six rulers of the kingdoms and other powerful people throughout what had been England. It existed solely as a way to boost both her popularity and ego. The richest and most influential came, such as the Hans (well, the father did, everyone else was almost always sick), that one princess that for some reason wouldn’t leave the twins alone, the entirety of Gardenia’s royal family, and many more people Alexia struggled to really care about.

Cal and Alexia had to go every time no matter what; Alexia knew something was amiss when Cal didn’t show. The queen made up an excuse about how Cal had gotten sick and ended up being unable to come to the banquet. Alexia gave a smile, nodding her agreement wordlessly.

She mumbled that she wanted to be excused as soon as she deemed it acceptable. When questioned on it, she said that she wanted to make sure Cal was okay, which really wasn’t a lie. She got a few coos about how good of a sister she was, then left.

She broke into a sprint once she had gotten out of earshot of the guests.

The room looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane — the sheets strewn across the floor, the drawers forced open in a rush, books and papers littered the floor, the list containing their secret codes in tatters on the ground, their food stash had been depleted and so had a large portion of their money. It looked as if Cal had run away.

Alexia knew better. Sure, Cal had voiced his distaste of the castle many times before, the fact that he hated being there enough to leave was pretty much common knowledge. However, if he was ever to leave he would have certainly asked her to go with him, or at least warned her of his departure. No, he’d been forced out, and rather suddenly.

Alexia looked at her suitcase and began packing the essentials: clothes, food, books, maps, clothes, sheets so she wouldn’t have to lay on the ground, weapons, money, clothes… the list went on and on until she had filled seven bags. The essentials were getting less and less essential, she noted, and put down the tiara that she had considered taking in order to look cute. She looked through her bags and removed a bit, but honestly couldn’t part with much.

Who should I take with me? Obviously not the castle staff, I can’t tear them away from their occupations, and the other royals couldn’t care less. I’m not getting someone else injured because I mess up, she mused. So, who could hypothetically get injured without impacting Mandalo? Maybe… She made a decision and walked to the stables. She freed her prized horse, a strong black one named Blackjack, and loaded her up with all of her belongings.

She clambered onto Blackjack’s back and set off to the other side of the city where the slums were located, pulling her hood over her head so fewer people would recognize her. The princess had hidden her bags under a blanket so she didn’t look too wealthy, though she did feel people staring at her as she made her way to the thief’s house.

Not everyone owns a horse, Alexia, might as well have worn a giant sign saying ‘rich person’ on your back.

She rapped on the door twice and waited. The house was not at all what she expected of the thief: small, dingy, one of the windows broken, in general disrepair. The twins gave him far too much money for what he did, so she couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t afford a better house than the decaying one-roomer.

Alexia regretted her decision the moment she spotted Nathan Green’s face in the doorframe. The male was unhealthily skinny, with matted hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Yellow freckles were dull under a thin layer of grime. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he gave her a once over. Both twins had long since used to this, the general Which one is this routine. She could have lifted her bangs to give him an easier time, but she didn’t. Once he came to a decision he motioned for her to get on with it.

“Hello, Nathaniel,” said Alexia, toying with her fingers.

“Evenin’, princesa. Why are you here?” He asked. If there was anything to like about the criminal, it was that he always got to the point.

“Your ‘occupation’ is finding things us royals lost, is it not?”

“Sometimes…” Nathan said carefully.

Alexia straightened to her full height. He wasn’t impressed. “I lost Cal, help me find him,” she ordered.

“No,” he said, moving to close the door. Alexia put her foot out to stop him. He seemed to consider breaking her foot with the door for a minute.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” She whined, more than aware that she sounded like a four-year-old who wasn’t allowed a new toy.

“I mean ‘no’. I could say it in Spanish if you’d like.” He moved to close the door once again, almost crushing Alexia’s foot in the process.

“I’ll pay you, of course,” Alexia said quickly, wishing she had started with that. The male paused for a moment and she flexed her foot a few times to make sure it was okay. “One hundred lous if you come with me,” she added before he lost interest.

He opened the door fully, leaning against the frame.

“Listen, it’s not that I don’ like you… actually that’s exactly it, you suck. I have things to do other than help you, princesa.”

She couldn’t miss the greedy look in his eye, though.

“I’ll give you an extra fifty lous if we do find them. You have a baseline of one hundred even if we fail,” she offered, and she could immediately tell that he was sold. Nonetheless, he pretended to mull it over.

Really, just say yes. We’re losing valuable time.

“I guess I could help you find them, it’s only a month or so anyways if we can get this done quickly,” he said after a while, cracking a devilish grin that almost made Alexia nervous. “I’m finally growin’ on you, then? Took, what, thirteen years?” He teased, before disappearing into his home. Only a few seconds passed before the thief popped out with only a small bag slung over his shoulder.

“You don’t want to bathe before we go? Whatever, I suppose, let’s get started. If we leave now we might be able to catch up to him. He’s going on foot,” she said.

“Do I get un caballo?” Alexia stared at him until he started motioning to the horse.

Nathan and his family were from Spain, so she wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t aware of certain terms. What did she do with this knowledge? Attempt to trick him, of course.

“You mean a ‘school’,” she lied. The male looked offended.

“Honestly, how dumb do you think I am?” he whined with a defeated expression, as if he already regretted agreeing to help Alexia. She chose not to answer his question and he pretended not to notice. 

A true friendship.

So, they went to the royal stables and Nathan tried to pick a horse. The horses all whinnied as if in protest as he neared them. Smart animals.

“Honestly, which one of them am I supposed to choose? They’re all so creepy and…” He trailed off. “Caballos,” he whispered disdainfully, before choosing the one that seemed least likely to murder him. It obviously wanted to, but he stuck to his decision anyways. “AYYYYYY- c’mon, Lance, I just want to live-” he stopped speaking as he was distracted — he had fallen over Lance’s head and laid in a pile of hay dejectedly.

“Horses can sense fear,” Alexia said ‘helpfully’ as she watched him climb on again.

“So, it’s called a horse.” He pumped his hand in the air victoriously before almost sliding off the tail-end of his steed.

Getting outside ended up being relatively easy. No one came up and bothered them for fear of upsetting the princess, the guards pretended they didn’t see her sneaking out, and Nathan managed not to magically die.

This good mood did not last.

While it was clear there used to be a forest outside, little had actually survived. The only living plants were pioneer species attempting to break through the snow. There wasn’t an animal in sight, it wasn’t obvious any had ever existed.

Sure, she’d been outside before, but only in a carriage, and she tended to sleep during trips. To actually see the world was horrifying.

Alexia pulled her map from her many, many bags. “There’s a part where the path forks up ahead. One leads to Gardenia and then the other kingdoms, the other leads to the Giftless Camp. Which one do you want to try first?” She questioned. Though she had asked, she didn’t want to head off to where the Giftless were; it was criminal territory, and traveling with one of them was more than enough for her.

Nathan idly twirled his knife through his fingers, which she figured would end up with a few missing. “Cal probably went towards the place with all of the Lames,” he said.

“Giftless,” she corrected. The Giftless were exactly what they sounded like, people without any form of ‘magical’ ability, though there were so few of them that they had been renamed ‘Lames’ by the general population. Discrimination against disadvantaged minorities? That’s basically unheard of! Nonetheless, they were to be taken to a labor camp once they reached eleven years of age. Most people avoided the topic like the plague.

“Are you going to explain your reasoning, Einstein?” She muttered sarcastically after a few moments.

He sighed so loudly he must have broken a rib.

“Obviously there would be fewer people in that direction. Whatever he was runnin’ from was clearly terrifyin’, he would go where it would be harder for them to find him,” he explained slowly, as if explaining two plus two. It annoyed Alexia that he made sense.

“Whatever, I suppose we should find a place to sleep before it gets too dark,” she mumbled, holding out a hand and concentrating for a short moment. The light around them gathered into a ball in her fingers, but even that was faint with so little to work with. She figured they had about an hour before even her Gift would be useless. She found herself actually glad for the lack of trees, as they would have run out of light long beforehand. “Maybe they’re at an inn or something,” she tried, though she doubted it.

She wondered if she would be able to find him if he didn’t wish to be found. He’s been gone for less than a day, don’t give up yet, Alexia scolded herself mentally, looking around. Nothing but dead shrubbery as far as the eye could see, certainly not any buildings.

“A place to stay out here? We’ll take shifts. Go ahead and sleep.”

The princess wanted to argue, but she couldn’t deny that sleep sounded really good. She pulled a pillow and blanket from one of her bags and promptly passed out.

[peerless-soshi]

Title: Lost & Found Series: Mo Dao Zu Shi Relationship: Wei WuXian & Jiang Cheng (side Wei WuXian/Lan WangJi) Setting: Canon/future Rating: G Genre: Family; hurt/comfort Link: AO3 Word count: 4893 Summary: "I mourned you, Wei WuXian!" His voice broke. "I cried too many times, I'm too tired to do this again. But you left me. Although you promised.”

[Future Fic] Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng talk about Jiang YanLi's death, fight like children and for the first time in forever feel like brothers. All may not be lost.

A/N: Is writing a concluding story before finishing the novel a good idea? No. Can it be contrary to canon facts? Yes. Is it going to stop me? No. Enjoy.  Also it's my first MDZS fic so be understanding and enjoy! I'll love you forever for a comment.

"The Cloud Recesses intends to accept new students? Seriously?" Wei WuXian asked, surprise ringing in his voice.

"Yes," Lan WangJi muttered under his breath, still eyeing the scrolls spread across the table, their edges frayed by fingers of time.

The afternoon sun was peeking into the library pavilion through a huge, round window, painting on the paper some bright flower-shaped stains with asymmetrical petals, which made the scrolls look even more golden and, in Wei WuXian's eyes, even older. Dust flickered in the air, soaring like on butterfly wings. So even here they can't clean everything, Wei WuXian thought with satisfaction. He expected the Lan Clan to polish paper.

"We do not accept new disciples," Lan WangJi added, "They are only sons of the important sects who will stay here for several months, learning and using our book collection. Nothing remarkable."

Wei WuXian put his elbows on the table and shifted towards his partner, smiling brightly. "How unpleasant of you, Lan Zhan! You call the sons of the most important sects unremarkable? Are you whispering behind their backs? Or maybe I should punish you for pride?"

He chuckled and waved his palm in front of Lan WangJi's face, brushing a few long hairs flowing down from between the white forehead ribbon like black ink on a white sheet. It wasn't a surprise that the second master of the Lan Sect didn't move. His eyes waved from one side of the scroll to the other; up, down, right, left, down.

"Any of them."

"How boring," Wei WuXian sighed with exaggerated indignation before lying down on the table. He glanced up. Still no reaction. Now Wei WuXian sighed honestly, but he was used to his husband's behavior and didn't expect more; the mere fact that Lan WangJi uttered five sentences, including the complex one, was quite a change. Who else could hope for such a privileged conversation?

And yet, Wei WuXien couldn't fight with boredom. Lan WangJi has been bending over the old texts for several hours now, studying carefully every sign. He had stopped once, but only to reach for the brush and make notes, then gone back to work. The scrolls were gathered on both sides of the table, arranged in even towers with paper foundations that Wei WuXian wanted to demolish. What was Lan Zhan trying to find if he knew all these texts by heart? Wei WuXian didn't understand. Somehow, he didn't want to go deeper into it.

After a moment, he lay down on the mat and yawned loudly, so that even the younger students, who were studying in the room next door, must have heard him. Lan WangJi finally looked up and sent him a berating gaze, like a rough sea. Wei WuXian has become a good swimmer in the depths of these eyes, so instead of humbling, he answered with a wide smile and waved. To his delight, the corners of Lan WangJi's mouth twitched.

Wei WuXian rose to his knees and moved closer. He glanced over his husband’s shoulder, brushing his lips against Lan WangJi's ear, and whistled.

"Behave yourself, Wei Ying."

"Do you really want to memorize everything?" Wei WuXian asked, deaf to the reprimand.

Lan WangJi nodded. "Using such important texts during lessons would make a bad impression."

"During lessons?"

Texts. Lesson. And Lan Zhan was preparing... Understanding washed through him like waves crashing against a cliff’s edge. Wei WuXian flinched in surprise, his fingers clutching his husband's collar and leaving, horrible, a delicate fold on the perfect white fabric. He felt as if he could dive into the new possibilities. Lan WangJi reluctantly turned his head, smoothing the collar.

"You are going to teach them, Lan Zhan? Really?"

Lan WangJi let out a soft murmur that Wei WuXian had learned to interpret as a variation of yes.

"I remember our punishment."

"Your punishment."

"You will be a great teacher, Lan Zhan," Wei WuXian said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Just talk to your students, you know? If you explain the sacred texts, not just tell them to read for two hours in silence, it's possible that they’ll learn something."

Lan WangJi's mouth narrowed as he pushed Wei WuXian's hand. The feeling of resentment reflected on his impassive face, just like a pebble leaving circles on water. "Do not lecture me. I know what to do."

"Are you sure?" Wei WuXian laughed, too loud as for the Lan Sect library. "Is the rule of silence, or coping three thousand principles of this place, really the best possible teaching method?"

"What would you suggest, Wei Ying?" LanWangJi asked. Belatedly he realized that he just committed one of the most shameful neglects in his life.

Wei WuXian grinned. "I have many ideas," he said and began to count on his fingers, thoughtfulness on his face, "First of all, I would give them more fighting lessons because your clan neglects them. You are a genius, Lan Zhan, but children? They won't learn how to fight fierce spirits by sitting in the classroom! It is irresponsible to let them go unprepared. And practical knowledge about spirits? If you want to teach them the theory then make sure they really need it."

He didn't intend to brag, but his classifications were still used by most cultivation schools. And which of them was better at sorting knowledge and creating tables?

His face must have glowed, lit from the inside, as Lan WangJi grimaced slightly.

"No."

"What? I didn't say anything! That's not fair, Lan Zhan, now you want to add clairvoyance to your endless list of talents." Wei WuXian winked at him.

"It is not difficult to guess your thoughts. And I repeat: no."

Wei WuXian pushed the table aside, so that Lan WangJi's hand hung limply in the air. His eyes widened in shock. What a victory. After that, Wei WuXian put his head on his partner’s lap, smoothing the white robes like a pillow.

"Tell me, Lan Zhan, what am I thinking about?"

"No."

"You are never fun! Say, or later I’ll be boring too and go to sleep early," Wei WuXian threatened and nudged him.

The window bell played when gentle wind slipped into the room and danced with Lan WangJi's forehead ribbon. Ting, ting... Like a cat, Wei WuXian reached out and touched the ribbon. The snow white shone between his fingers, marked by fights and work, reminding him of all he could do now, and everything he had. Then Lan WangJi grabbed his wrist. Wei WuXian expected his husband to feel offended by such frivolous behavior, but Lan WangJi drew the hand closer to his face. His eyes softened.

"No way. Even if children like you."

"So you admit that I'm popular with children!" Wei WuXian exclaimed triumphantly. "I would be more popular than you! Are you jealous?"

Lan WangJi nodded with seriousness disproportionate for this situation. "Yes. But you're proud for the wrong reasons. Do not bring any more trouble to the Lan Clan."

"Me?" Wei WuXian put his palm on the chest, his free hand brushing Lan WangJi's cheek. "If my memory is correct, you brought me, your trouble, to the Cloud Recesses! It's also your fault. You're on the wrong path."

A normal person would probably smile. The second master of the Lan Sect only cleared his throat with impenetrable expression, what sounded more like an elegant combination of a hidden snort and a sudden sneeze. Wei WuXian was getting better and better!

"Besides ..." Lan WangJi continued, "The cultivation world may not be ready to accept you as a teacher of their heirs. Even if you are going to teach only approved techniques, many still do not trust you. That may affect our reputation, and if the clan leaders decide to take their children out of fear... "

"Good observation, HanGuang-Jun." The voice came from the door. "As always infallible – to think that despite your decisions, you still didn't lose the ability of apt judgment. If you let him teach in the Cloud Recesses, your reputation will fall like a stone thrown from the top of this mountain."

They turned their heads at the same moment, though Wei WuXian knew exactly who would wait for them. The voice as sharp as a whip, destroying any obstacle in its path, and sarcasm thrown on HanGuang-Jun. Only few would dare to do that. A drop of bitterness, hidden at the end of the tongue.

Wei WuXian got up from his partner's knees and checked the clothes. He turned to Jiang Cheng, who was standing at the door of the pavilion, his hand decorated with Zidian on his hip. Wei WuXian sat up straight and forced a smile, as real as if painted with Lan WangJi’s brush.

"Jiang Cheng. Good to see you!"

His greeting had the opposite effect because Jiang Cheng grimaced even more and avoided his eyes, talking to Lan WangJi.

"I come to discuss the sect matters," he said.

Lan WangJi’s eyes narrowed. "What matter could bring you to me, Sandu Shengshou? It is not in my power to conduct diplomatic talks."

"It's not about diplomacy," Jiang Cheng corrected him, sitting on the mat. "It's rather a good thing since I wanted to talk with you, HanGuang-Jun. Like a clan leader with a clan leader," he added, and it didn't take much trying to see who those words were aimed at.

Crumpled by the weight of paper smiles and caustic tone, Wei WuXian wanted to leave, but Lan WangJi held his hand.

"The Lan Clan leader is away," he said officially, "If you want to talk with the representative, you have me as well as Wei WuXian, who plays this role on par with me."

Jiang Cheng clenched his teeth. Something was in his eyes, a flash of rage, then a flicker of envy. The ring began to spin on his finger.

"There's no need to annoy the sect leader, Lan Zhan," Wei WuXian said, a long silence announcing the words he wasn't ready to hear. He pulled away before Lan WangJi could grab him, and walked toward the door, his footsteps quicker than intended.

Passing Jiang Cheng, Wei WuXian risked one quick glance. But as expected, Jiang Cheng didn't even look at him.

*

Some games were eternal.

For example: spreading wings like a swallow and pretending you can leave the ground and worries far behind you... Maybe not literally – Wei WuXian became convinced that even ghosts can't observe everything – but such thoughts flashed through his mind as he was sitting on a stone bridge near the Orchid Hall. He was swaying his legs in the air, resting his chin on his hands and enjoying the warm wind that carried the scent of the evening, the familiar aroma of magnolia trees and river. Everything was covered in silence, like in the clouds.

Only the bell was ringing at his sash.

Similar to silks thrown carelessly on the floor, the water under his feet wrinkled and folded. The koi fishes, orange flecks of sunset, flitted near the surface. How strange, Wei WuXian thought, that in such a quiet place the water was not calm. When he had first come here, in his previous life, everything had seemed to stop in time, as if in a different dimension, on the other side of a mirror. Now, living with Lan WangJi, he has learned the Cloud Recesses’ slow and arranged rhythm. But how could he have seen it back then, with Jiang Cheng trying his best to obey the rule of silence in spite of fiery nature?

Wei WuXian blinked. He raised his head and stared into the distance, but it was too late; the water reflection blurred the face of the second master's spouse, and showed the fifteen-year-old heir of the YunmengJiang Sect, together with his faithful companion, passing the same bridge. Hand in hand. Distant memories flickered on the river, showing lost moments. Drops of their steps as they ran to the class, their innocuous fights the most clear. Wei WuXian remembered the wrinkle between Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows and the way he had given him a tongue-lashing for oversleeping, more out of habit than actual anger. His own laughter, Nie HuaiSang's moaning at the thought of entering the classroom late. Years have passed, but the memory of Jiang Cheng’s facade breaking when he had burst into laughter was still as clear as the fishes swimming in the river.

Then, somewhere to the right, Wei WuXian heard a splash; a pebble fell into the water, ringing like a drowning bell.

He turned his head and smiled. This time it came naturally.

"You always find the perfect moment, Jiang Cheng," he said.

Jiang Cheng stood on the other side of the bridge, his hands crossed on his chest. He looked surprised.

"I have no idea what you're raving about," he stated, passing him, and added, "Goodbye."

Wei WuXuian folded his hands and bowed. That was the right thing, he knew. He would obey all rules – at least those reasonable – and let his new home live in peace. He wouldn't bring any problems. It was just surprising that something as unnatural as bowing to Jiang Cheng quickly became his first reaction.

The purple robes fluttered in the breeze, the bell playing the melody of home. The home. Wei WuXian watched Jiang Cheng's silhouette, a cherry blossom against the whiten hill. It grew smaller and smaller until the gate almost swallowed it.

Wei WuXian stood up. Just a moment ago, he thought that he wouldn't cause problems... right?

"Jiang Cheng!" he exclaimed, running down the stone steps.

Jiang Cheng didn't slow down, though he must have heard him. Nevertheless, Wei WuXian was fast, so he caught up with him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and use this moment to decide what to say.

"Jin Ling will come to the Cloud Recesses, right?" he finally said.

Jiang Cheng frowned but still didn't look at him. "Where does this come from?"

"I can't think of another reason why you came to Lan Zhan," Wei WuXian answered and shrugged. "We talked about it today. The sons of the more important clans are going to be sent here for teachings. I think Lan Zhan intends to replace master Lan QiRen and hold the classes. It's a great opportunity for Jin Ling to learn... and make friends," he added cautiously.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. "Even if you're right, it's not your concern."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"What are you trying to say?" Jiang Cheng grunted, clenching his fist. Zidian gleamed in the setting sun, a drop of violet reflecting the rays of red.

"The situation in the Jin Clan is extremely tense, and Jin Ling is their only heir," Wei WuXian said, eyeing Jiang Cheng, "Is it wise to keep Jin Ling away from the Carp Tower now, when the succession begins?”

Jiang Cheng grinned. He looked as if he didn't want to answer, and did so only because of old habits.

"That's why A-Ling should stay here for a while. You may be right, the situation of the Jin Clan is extremely... difficult. And unstable. It would be unreasonable to let the only rightful heir stay in the heart of conflict. Do you have any objections?"

Wei WuXian shook his head. "There are few safer places than the GusuLan Sect. You can get here only through one, always guarded, gate, and leave with a special token. All known charms have been put on the walls. And we have the strongest cultivators of our age." He didn't need to add that he was one of them. "There is no safer place for Jin Ling."

Yes, he agreed; Jiang Cheng was right. And yet deep in his heart, Wei WuXian couldn't help but wonder if Jiang Cheng was harming his nephew. Of course, he understood – better than anyone else. Jin Ling meant the whole world to his uncle, so Jiang Cheng tried to shield him from this world. But pretending that politic was less cruel than the young master could see would do nothing good. At his age, Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng had experienced unimaginable things. Maybe that's why Jiang Cheng wanted Jin Ling to be a child for a one day longer.

Jiang Cheng broke into his thoughts. "Even if Jin Ling will be here, it has nothing to do with you. Stay away from him."

"Do you think I would deliberately draw him back from studying? You know how much I loved it. Of course I won't disturb him!"

Jiang Cheng didn't appreciate this brilliant joke. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Wei WuXian, who almost expected Jiang Cheng to jump at him.

"I'm serious, Wei WuXian!" he growled, looking him in the eyes, "I don't want you to follow A-Ling. I don't want you to talk to him. I don't want him to be in the same room as you. I want him to be safe."

“Safe?" Wei WuXian repeated, his voice louder than necessary. "What is this supposed to mean?! Do you think I would hurt him? I would give," he hesitated, and almost spat out his last words, "I would give up my life for shijie's child!"

"Maybe that's the problem? Maybe just being around you brings misfortune?!" Jiang Cheng said. Wei WuXian would rather be hit. "Leave A-Ling alone... please."

Someone who hadn't spent half of their life with Jiang Cheng wouldn't know how much it cost him to say this word. That person wouldn't notice that despite the commanding tone, his knees were shaking. But Wei WuXian wasn't that person; he took a step back and nodded.

"Very well," he said slowly, "I understand, Jiang Cheng. If that's what you want, Jin Ling will have nothing to do with the Yiling Patriarch. I will not even speak with him without the need."

The sunset doused Jiang Cheng’s face in the intense glow, making his features even sharper. "No, Wei WuXian. There's no need for it. Never."

He turned his back to Wei WuXian, heading for the gate. Wei WuXian considered following him, but his feet grew into the ground.

"I saved him. Earlier. I've saved his life. Don't pretend that I bathe my hands in blood," he said, more to himself, to the fate awaiting him than to Jiang Cheng.

However, Jiang Cheng hissed through his teeth, "Great. You saved him, huh? A-Ling doesn't own you anything. What would have happened if you’d made a mistake?!" He spun on his heel, his shadow lengthened by the sleeping sun like brush strokes. It almost seemed to overwhelm Wei WuXian. "If you’d made a mistake, you could kill him. Aren't you experienced in this? In both killing and making mistakes?"

There was irony in his voice, although Wei WuXian wasn't sure if Jiang Cheng wanted to laugh or cry. This uncertainty just made his hands hung limply on both sides. He bowed down his head; weak, tired, like something dead that was supposed be alive. Like one of the fierce corpses.

"I'm sorry," he finally confessed, the red sky his witness. The blood of that day had darker shade of red. "I'm sorry," Wei WuXian repeated. "Shijie... it was my fault. And I will never forget about it."

Looking back, Wei WuXian had apologized a lot in his life. There had been different kinds of apologies, often such as those given to Lan WangJi in the library or on the river of the water ghouls: pretending that nothing happened to avoid punishment rather than regretting mistakes. Sometimes he would say them with a smile, sometimes with seriousness. And with pain, suffocating him like a lump in a throat.

Jiang Cheng's eyes widened. He touched the ring and spun it, one way and the other.

"Stop it," he ordered, "I don't want to hear it."

"I know. This may not be the best moment, but you must know that what happened to shijie was an accident and I regret it every day. And I will never redeem for this sin, even if I pull Jin Ling out of the mouth of death a hundred more times."

It wasn't how he had intended to say those words, in the middle of the stone path, in a shaking voice, with talks of some students coming from a distance and furious Jiang Cheng in front of him, but life had no respect for plans. He had to say it now or be buried under the weight of grief. Like Jiang Cheng.

The YunmengJiang Sect leader glanced at his ring, mother's heritage burning memories in his head, then on Wei WuXian. An angry grimace appeared on his face.

"Do not say her name, Wei WuXian," he rasped. "You don't have the right."

He could be serious or carried away by anger and words he didn't mean. This time, Wei WuXian couldn't judge it. He regretted that he didn't have his flute, though he remembered that on the mountain there was no burial area suitable for his abilities. It was just a simple reaction to seeing the rage thundering in Jiang Cheng's eyes, and his whip, unexpectedly unfolded. And yet, Wei WuXian came closer. Once he would probably retreat and let Jiang Cheng face his sadness in loneliness, thinking that he deserved this cruelty. But it was long time ago.

"You are unjust, Jiang Cheng," he said, his words calm, reasonable. "I loved her too."

Then a crack could be heard. Did this place make Wei WuXian's reactions slower? Probably; he was still hunting for evil spirits, but a bunny bite was the only threat behind the walls of Gusu. Maybe that was why he didn't dodge in time when Zidian left a hole in the ground, as well as a deep wound in his hand.

"Shut up!"Jiang Cheng shouted, his scream thunderous among the silence of Gusu. "You loved her? You?! What do you know? Did you go to her funeral, Wei WuXian? Did you hold her baby when her body was wrapped in flames? Did you answer Jin Ling's question when he wanted to know why his parents are not with him? Tell me! Did you lose your sister?!"

"Yes!"

The words were faster than the thoughts.

Jiang Cheng looked as if someone slapped him. He staggered on his feet, about to fall, then rushed at Wei WuXian. His hands clenched on the black collar in an iron grip, taking them both to the ground. Wei WuXian let out a moan as his back hit the path.

"Wei WuXian! You have no shame!"Jiang Cheng hissed, straddling him, red on his face. "You don't have the right to say that. Not after everything you've earned! You insult her memory!"

"How?" Wei WuXian said brazenly, allowing emotion to take control. He grabbed Jiang Cheng by the wrist. "I loved shijie like a sister! She raised me. She was always good to me."

"And how did you repay?!"

"If there was a way to trade my soul for hers, I would do it without hesitation. She deserves a second life much more than me! I loved her like no one else. You know about it!"

But did he really know?

Wei WuXian wanted to believe in it; to believe that both Jiang Cheng and Jiang YanLi were aware he loved them with every word and every thought. Every decision. Every mistake. Every drop – of tears and blood. And he sold his soul to the hell for all kinds of reasons. To take revenge for them. To ensure their safety. To build a future for them. To pay off the debt. But never for himself; Wei WuXian loved them more than himself, and that's why he had never said the most important words – because who was he to say it? A stray at the great court? He was nothing. They were everything. However, it was all before, when no one would wait for thirteen years, convincing him that love was something he deserved by being himself; before he had found home in a place he considered ashes. That had been before Lan WangJi.

Love has built a new life.

"I loved her," he said again, calmer, a shimmer of sadness washing through him. "And I loved you, Jiang Cheng. And uncle. The entire Lotus Pier. I loved you all. I still love."

He always thought so.

He spoke these words for the first time in his life.

Jiang Cheng's grip melted. He looked at him, more a child than a warrior, questions on his lips and confusion in his eyes. Wei WuXian found out that his features weren’t as sharp as he thought.

His lip thinned. "Why, Wei WuXian?"

Wei WuXian was silent, letting the meaning of his words to find Jiang Cheng. The shadow of understanding finally reflected on his face. Before Wei WuXian noticed, Jiang Cheng raised his hand and hit him with all his strength. A wave of rusty taste flooded Wei WuXian's mouth.

This scene evoked many memories.

"I don't understand what you want to achieve, Wei WuXian!" Jiang Cheng shouted, hitting him again. Wei WuXian didn't resist. His head was spinning. "You're coming back after all these years thinking that explains everything? That your help, and petting you by the Lan Clan, can make me forget?"

"No," Wei WuXian replied. He felt blood on his lips. "There is nothing worse than forgetting."

"Don't talk like you understand me!" Jiang Cheng interrupted him, but this time didn't move. "I know that I have to remember. Do you think I have anything except of memories? No, I have nothing. My sister is gone... But you've come back. You've got a reward. I don't want to look at you. You love me? I don't care! I hate you!"

Wei WuXian pretended it didn't hurt more than the punch.

Jiang Cheng did not move. He was still, sitting on Wei WuXian, his hands on the black collar, his head lowered. "I'm sick of you," he said. "Go and die. I got used to. Do you know how many times I've buried you? After Xuanwu. After those rascals from the Wen Clan threw you into the Burial Mounds. After the siege. Again and again."

Thirteen years have passed, but some moments were immortal. Like his soul digging out of the grave and returning to the living, a long-forgotten memory appeared before his eyes. Wei WuXian saw it again: he on the ground, Jiang Cheng on him, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I mourned you, Wei WuXian!" His voice broke. "I cried too many times, I'm too tired to do this again. You left me. Although you promised."

The sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, enveloping them with the red half-light. Wei WuXian closed his eyes. Droplets skittered across his cheeks. It was easier to believe they were raindrops, just like after the Lotus Pier death.

"I am sorry, Jiang Cheng."

And he was sorry.

That was right, Wei WuXian had left Jiang Cheng, again and again. Always to protect him. He would’ve never thought that maybe he'd hurt him the most.

"Uncle? What's going on... "

A panicked voice reached them. Wei WuXian looked back the moment Jin Ling stood frozen, watching the scene unfolding here.

Jiang Cheng got up and brushed off his robes. His eyes were dry, and under the cover of the evening it was almost impossible to see how red they were.

"Let's go," he said in a hoarse voice, not looking at his nephew or Wei WuXian.

Jin Ling stayed for a second, uncertain, wondering if he misunderstood or if what he just saw was not an illusion. In the end, he must have decided that following his uncle was safer because he run quickly after him, breaking one of the Cloud Recesses rules. He gave Wei WuXian a distrustful look.

Drowning in nostalgia, Wei WuXian was laying on the ground for a long time. The sky darkened over him, freeing valiant stars. The moonlight was streaming down his face. He spread his arms wide, catching it. The night sky had the smile of Jiang YanLi, and every wise word she had entrusted him.

"Are you looking at us, shijie?" Wei WuXian asked quietly.

And he prayed, with his eyes on the big moon and with even bigger heart, for the deities to let her see. Maybe he, the condemned one, had been forced to disappear in emptiness, but she has received some divine blessing and knew how much he tried for everything she had left behind. She would be happy. In the end, it was shijie who taught him that hate was simple, and never required any effort, never created anything. Love was the only thing that never died.

Wei WuXian wanted to create. It wouldn't be easy, but if he was good at something, it was aiming for impossible. And he felt that the tears shed today by Jiang Cheng could be a step on this path.

[zinniapetals]

Ankko Week ☆ Day 2 ☆ Childhood

Rating: G

Words: 3448

Notes: AU where Akko is a onmyouji but still is in love with Shiny Chariot's magic. Andrew is the same as canon and due to circumstances, they meet as kids and it's all downhill from there.

(AO3)

“Atsuko-sama!”

Akko dodged her maid’s hand, bringing out her makeshift wand and transfigured the new maid into a tiny, fluffy dog. “Say woof.”

“Atsuko-sama!” The maid wailed, running around in circles as she tried to shake off the magic. “Your mother’s going to get angry if she sees you using that wand again! Please change me back.”

The six-year-old was not interested in the logic of her maid; in fact, she didn't like the latest maid her father picked out for her. How dare she forget that Akko only ate chocolate chip pancakes and tried to make blueberry ones, it was a penalty worse than death.

“Say woof and I’ll change you,” Akko demanded, crossing her arms as she impatiently tapped her foot. The sand colored dog stopped moving and turned to Akko, closing her eyes as she shouted woof. “Okay! Ready?”

The dog nodded and Akko squeezed her eyes shut, envisioning the blonde maid to return back to normal, with a poof, the maid turned back into a human, naked and with a dog tail.

“A-Atsuko-sama!!” She cried out, covering her breasts with her arm and crossed her legs. “Please tell me you can fix this!”

Akko stepped back, giggling nervously as she stammered out an apology, turning and sprinting away from the maid that was now attracting the other servants. She’ll be fine, Akko reassured herself. All Akko had to do was go back to her room, re-read the spell and see where she went wrong then she could fix the maid before her mother found out about it 

“Akko? What are you doing?” 

“Mother!” Akko froze, tucking her wand in between the folds of her obi. “I thought you were getting ready for the ceremony today?” 

“I will,” her mother replied, coming forward to fix the front of Akko’s kimono. “It’s later tonight and I thought it’d be nice if we spent some time in the tea room before I had to get ready.”

“Really?” Akko asked, smiling brightly at her mother, tensing when her mother’s hands brushed over the obi to flatten it. “I’ll go get the supplies! In the eastern tea room or west?”

“East.”

Akko waved back and sprinted down the hall, nearly bumping into three servants as her feet stomped loudly against the tatami mats. She passed the guardian scroll, immediately stopping and clapped her hands together, bowing her head and was off again. She reached the prepping room, announcing herself through the shouji doors as she waited for someone to open it.

“Akko-sama, you’re a mess.”

“Onsaki-san! You’re back!” Akko went to give her favorite cook a hug, tightly wrapping her hands around the black haired woman’s hips, breathing in her perfume as she snuggled even further into the woman’s apron. “You would not believe what happened this morning!”

“I heard,” Onsaki laughed, pulling Akko away and fixed the girl’s outfit. “Hopefully you didn't go too hard on her?”

Akko laughed loudly, and sniffed proudly, crossing her arms as Onsaki felt a bump in the obi, pulling out Akko’s makeshift wand. 

“Akko-sama! You didn't!”

“It was on accident,” Akko said, suddenly feeling guilty and tried to reach for her wand, the elder woman raising it higher from her reach. “Well, giving her a dog’s tail was by accident.”

Onsaki tsked loudly, putting the wand on a high self. Akko glared at the chief who was probably under her mother’s orders to keep anything western out of Akko’s reach but Onsaki was supposed to be on her side! Not her mother’s!

“What’d you come here for? I don't have any cookies ready yet, but they’ll be done in ten minutes if you’re willing to wait.”

“Actually,” Akko started, looking away from her wand and clasped her hand behind her back, “I’m going to drink tea with my mother so…”

“Oh? Well in that case we just got a new shipment of tealeaves,” Onsaki replied, walking over to the cabinet where the cups, bowl, and teapot were located. “Do you want to choose which one or should I surprise you?”

“There’s a ceremony later so make sure it isn’t something that will make her sick!”

Onsaki laughed at Akko’s caring but childish request, picking out Hanako’s favorite tea.

“Here you go,” she said, offering Akko a box that contained everything she needed. “Just leave it in the tea room and I’ll make sure someone gets it, alright?”

“Okay!” Akko chirped, grabbing the box and gave her wand one last longing stare. She left the room, running towards the eastern tearoom, passing the courtyard that the ceremony was going to be held at, decorations being put into place. 

“Akko,” her mother called out, opening the screen door with grace. “Come in.”

“Is it the minister of magic coming today or is it someone else?” Akko asked, staring at the western chairs that were being carried out to the courtyard. “I thought you were just going to perform a ceremony today?”

“Your father,” her mother paused at that rolling her eyes but tone filled with love for her husband, “decided to invite some western witches and your aunt invited some from the southeast as well. It became something of a party, I suppose.” 

“Are you tired?” Akko asked, frowning as her mother rubbed the bridge of her nose. “We don't have to drink tea. You can go rest.”

“Don't be silly, I want to spend time with you.”

Akko beamed at that. She walked to the middle of the room, taking the lid of the box and took out the dishes with practiced ease, careful to not make any mistakes while her mother was watching.

“I heard you turned a maid into an animal today.”

Akko clanked together the two cups, cringing as she checked to make sure there were no chips in the jade. She laughed nervously, focusing even harder on her task as her mother stared her down. At least that meant the maid was back to being completely human now. 

“Akko, I love you, you know that right?” Her mother asked, sitting down in front of Akko, feet tucked underneath her put and her kimono sleeves tied up as she reached to turn on the fire. “You do have magical blood in you, it’s just not the western type. Your spells will never be as good as someone from a western witch bloodline but that just means you excel in something else. You haven’t been forgetting your studies have you?”

“Of course not!” Akko huffed, handing her mother the teapot, which she drew a symbol in the air and water was placed into it. “I just think it’s fun and beautiful and I want to do flashy magic like that too!”

“So you don’t think being an Onmyouji is flashy?” 

“It’s scary mom,” Akko pouted, widening her eyes at the casual term. Her mother simply smiled, reaching for the tea leaves and sifted through it. “B-but I do like what we do! I just wish it was cooler…”

“Then that’s your job to expand on our magic right? If you’re complacent with mediocre magic, whether it be oriental or western then you’ll never grow as a person.” 

Akko bit her tongue as her mother went continued talking. She’s heard this lecture thousands of times. She knew it was her job as the only heir of the Kagari line to complete and perfect her oyunomiji studies but ever since she heard of Shiny Chariot, she wanted to delve into western magic.

“You’ll be coming out to see the ceremony right?”

Akko shrugged, picking at a loose thread in her kimono, stopping when her mother glared at her.

“I think you should, you might see something you like.” 

Her mother was wrong. She didn't see something she liked she saw something she loved. There, at the middle of the courtyard, surrounding by pillars of water and light, a beautiful blonde woman was dancing, her wand waving around artfully and the water followed. It became shapes, animals, flowers, and beautiful displays of powerful yet serene magic. It was everything Akko dreamed of doing.

“It’s a shame that that kind of magic takes too much resources,” her mother started, looking at the performance through the mirror as she fixed her headpiece. “I was talking to that man over there earlier and he said that this type of magic is becoming outdated, something that was left over from the Golden Age of Witches.”

“But-” 

“And when I was talking to Mrs. Cavendish, the woman who is performing right now,” her mother continued, trying to drive home her point. “She said that Shiny Chariot is a heretic in the witch world. Which doesn't make sense because I too believed her magic was wonderful. It’s truly a shame Akko. Seems like the western world of magic you so truly want to become a part of isn’t what it seems.” 

Akko pouted and ignored her mother’s words, clenching onto the curtain of her mother’s makeshift dressing room that had a perfect view of the courtyard, the water now evaporating into sprinkles as multiple people came to help Mrs. Cavendish. 

“Is it tiring doing all that magic?” Akko asked, frowning at the sight of a blonde little girl clinging to the woman, excitedly calling her mom. 

“She told me she had a frail body, but wanted to put on a show for her daughter,” Akko’s mother explained, stepping back from the mirror to give her outfit one last check. “But now it’s my turn, so be a good girl and applaud your mother loudly, alright Akko?”

Akko laughed and nodded, knowing that the performance must have set a flame in her mother’s competitive spirit.

“Good luck mom.”

Her mother looked back and winked, leaving the tent as she began to dance towards the middle of the courtyard to the sounds of the taiko drums and shamisens.

 Andrew leaned forward on his seat, mouth opening in awe at Mrs. Kagari’s performance. He knew what to expect from Diana’s mother, he’s seen her done a few spells before, however, this magic; this performance was something he had never experienced.

He snuck a peek at his father, the man focused on the tiny paper cutouts that were dancing around Mrs. Kagari, floating then falling, walking around the courtyard. He knew of his father’s distaste for witches, he often heard him converse with his mother about how annoying it is that he had to travel to Luna Nova to keep up appearances, but the calculating stare his father was giving made it seem like he could change his mind.

“Oriental witches,” he dad muttered, and Andrew leaned a bit to the side to catch what he was saying easier, “They could be useful after all…”

His stomach clenched at what that could mean, nothing good he presumed, and he slowly got off his seat, checking on his dad one more time to make sure he wouldn't get caught, and left.

He walked around the tables that was meant for the western officials, weaved in and out of the southeastern magician’s tables, and finally stopped in front of a red tent that had a perfect view of the courtyard. 

“Do you like it?”

Andrew jumped a little, searching around for the voice as he heard a giggle.

“Do you like the dance?” The girly voice asked again and Andrew blinked at the head that was peeking from the tent’s curtains. “Your face looks like you like it.”

Andrew coughed and tried to keep a cool face, his father always warned him about showing his true emotions to strangers. “I like it.”

“Well I love it. That’s my mother,” the girl proudly announced, smiling so wide that Andrew could count the amount of teeth she was missing. “Do you want to come in and watch it?”

Andrew looked around once more, focusing on the table where his father was sitting, no sign of him noticing Andrew missing and he turned back to the girl, her head tilted questioningly as she waited for his answer. 

“Alright.”

“My name is Akko, actually it’s Atsuko, but I like Akko better. What’s yours?”

“Andrew Hanbridge.”

“Can I call you Andy?” 

“No.”

“Okay!” And with that she opened the curtain all the way, a small bench placed right in front of the open flaps. “Come on in!”

Andrew gingerly sat on the seat, the plushness of it making him sink into it as Akko sat and squirmed next to him, trying to get comfortable.

“Can you do magic?” She asked, eyes shining brightly as smiled at him. 

“No,” he answered, looking away from her intrusive stare at back at the performance, where the music began to increase tempo. “Can you do magic?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you a witch?” Andrew asked, looking at Akko who was staring at her mom’s performance with a wide smile on her face. 

“Look! You don't wanna miss this!”

And Andrew looked, a flash of bright light then three big swords stood behind Mrs. Kagari, the floating paper gone as two huge and scary looking creatures stood next to the woman.

"What are those?!"

"Contracts," Akko said, looking away from the performance to gauge Andrew's reaction. "Aren't they scary?"

"Well, they are different from what I normally see," Andrew answered, the three big sword changing into five smaller ones with a command from Mrs. Kagari as the creatures began to dance as well. "Why are there weapons?"

"Onmyouji are exorcists."

"Onmyouji? Exorcists?" Andrew repeated, gawking as the scary creatures vanished and were replaced with two floating papers again. "What are those papers?!”

“Are you talking about the Shikigami?” Akko asked, knowing that her mother was getting ready for the final performance. "Look up at the sky!"

Andrew listened and looked up, a giant white pentagram glowed bright for a couple seconds, and suddenly, hundreds of swords filled the sky, and with a wave of Mrs. Kagari's hand, they began to move rhythmically in the sky.

"Amazing isn't it?" Akko whispered, clenching her outfit tightly. 

He nodded at the question because for all the scariness of the magic this woman displayed, the swords were being played with majestically. Every moved that Mrs. Kagari made, the swords listened, separating far then coming close, looking dangerously and intimidating to anyone who was watching.

"Can you do that too?"

"Not that," Akko said, laughing at the silliness of the question. "My mother is a genius. She can summon both weapons and contracts."

Andrew nodded as if he understood and watched as the show came to a close. "My question from earlier, you didn't answer it Miss Akko."

"Miss Akko?" She repeated, furrowing her brows at the strangeness of it. "I told you to call me Akko! And I did answer it."

"But what's Shikigami?" He asked, trying to get a better answer from her.

"Oh." She hummed and squeezed her eyes tightly, face scrunching as she tapped her lap rapidly. "I can't tell you!" 

"Why not?” 

"Kagari clan secrets," she said, pausing before giving him a secretive smile. "You’re funny! You know that?”

Andrew frowned at that, crossing his arms as she began to laugh. “Why do you say that?”

“You looked so upset that I couldn’t tell you!”

“Well that because,” he stopped and looked away, not wanting to tell her that’s because no one’s never said no to me. “I’m not upset.”

Akko laughed louder, finally looking away from Andrew as she saw her mother come towards the tent. She waved wildly, her mother hiding her smile with a fan, moving it to cool down her red face. Andrew moved his gaze away from the cozy moment, staring at his shoes, freshly polished earlier in the afternoon.

“Are you going to say hello?”

“I guess,” he muttered, Mrs. Kagari raising her brow at him and Andrew straightened up in his seat greeting her when she came closer.

“Hello there,” she easily replied, her voice gentle and stride graceful as she walked into the tent. “Did you enjoy the show?” 

“It was amazing!” Akko said, vibrating in her seat and she nudged Andrew to answer.

“Right Andrew?” 

“Yes, it was wonderful Ma’am.”

Akko’s mother turned slightly, an amused smile playing on her lips at the formalness of Andrew’s tone. She began to undo her intricate hairstyle, setting the clips, bobby pins, and hair ornaments on the vanity table. She reached into her long sleeves and pulled out multiple pieces of paper, setting them inside a small chest. 

“Ah!” Andrew blinked at the Kagaris that were staring at him expectantly, until he realized that he made that sound. Face and ears tinting red, he rubbed his nose and kicked his feet as he asked, “What are those?”

“These?” Mrs. Kagari asked, lifting a paper cutout in the shape of a bunny. “Akko didn't explain them?”

“But mother! You said to never tell the in-intri- the importance of the shikigami to people who don't know anything about it!” Akko huffed, crossing her arms as she pouted. “It’s his fault for not knowing anything!”

“Akko,” her mother said disapprovingly, grabbing a blank paper from out of the chest and walked over to the two kids, handing Andrew the blank paper. “This is a shikigami. It can contain a demon, a ghost, a contract, or even the user’s own magic. Can you perform magic Andrew?” 

“I don’t think so,” Andrew answered even though he was sure his father wouldn't have married his mother if she were a witch. “Why?” 

“Press the paper against your lips and breathe into it,” she commanded, and Andrew followed, kissing the paper lightly as he huffed on it. “Now give it to Akko.” 

“Why me?” Akko grumbled taking the paper with care and brought it to her lips as well. The paper fluttered against her fingers as she let it go, the bunny cutout floating in the air before gliding over to Andrew’s face. “It’s for him right?”

“I didn’t you could do it wordlessly,” Mrs. Kagari murmured, smiling softly at Akko. 

“I wanted to surprise you! Oh, don't pull too hard!” Akko shouted, reaching over to calm the paper that was frantically trying to get out of Andrew’s eager grip. “It’s yours now. Be kind to it. It’s part of you.”

Andrew scrunched his nose at the paper that seemed to be chastising him, the ears of the bunny cutout twitching anxiously. “Can it talk?”

“Not in words,” Mrs. Kagari said, reaching for the paper and touched it’s ears, the paper flipping around and moving fast near her face. “See, now it’s mad that I touched it without asking you first.” 

“Don’t be mad,” Andrew mumbled, trying to calm down the paper, feeling silly that he was talking to it in the first place. The shikigami paused and floated back to Andrew, staying near his knees as he stared down at it. “Will it always be moving?”

“Not always,” Akko answered, getting off the seat and reached into a bag that was tied around her waist, opening it to show Andrew papers that were laying flat on top of each other. “See, mine are calm because I’m calm. They sometimes go according to your emotions.”

“I see,” Andrew mumbled, touching the shikigami delicately and it nudged into a hand like a cat. He felt like there was more behind the secret of the shikigami but he supposed that was also the allure of it. “I like it, thank you.” 

Mrs. Kagari laughed softly and held the tent opened, waiting for Andrew to get up. When Andrew left the tent he thanked the Kagaris one more time, Akko threatening him to take good care of his shikigami and the older Kagari gave him a sly smile. 

As he went back to his table, his dad commented that Andrew took a long time in the restroom and Andrew smiled, his shikigami pressed flat against his chest, fluttering gently. 

9 years later: 

“Master Andrew, your father said you two would be departing soon.”

“Thank you,” Andrew said, dismissing the maid, looking at the mirror one last time as he fixed his tie. “What’s going on with you Atsuko?”

The shikigami floated around Andrew’s face for the hundredth time that day, it’s movements clearly expressing its happiness and excitement. “Are you that eager to go to Luna Nova? I doubt we’ll meet anyone that knows what you are.”

Atsuko stopped, and Andrew knew from experience that the small movement of its ears meant that it was laughing. “Oh? Do you know something that I don't? Well, in that case,” he lifted his lapel away from his body, the shikigami gliding over and pressed against his chest. “Let’s go see what’s in store for us.”