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The ashes in the basement came from a fireplace used to cook their meals and to clean the orphanage’s laundry. Shuffled to where Atsushi wouldn’t be any burden and where he couldn’t be seen, Atsushi worked in the basement until the skin on his fingertips bled and the cinders would stick to his nails and toes. He’d wash the ash out of his hair and it would gleam silver in the sunlight.
A filthy place for a dirty unwanted child. That’s where Nakajima Atsushi belonged.
When the other children didn’t ignore his existence for the sake of not being associated with him, they would laugh and point at the ashes sticking to his clothes and hair from working in the basement so much. They gave him a special name, for the ashes that stuck to his fingertips, for his strange colored eyes and the stray forest cats that he offered scraps to, the only friends he’d ever made while living at the orphanage— the Cat in the Ashes.
It was a name he’d learned to live with.
The ashes stuck to his fingers, but just when the fire’d been put out, they were warm and Atsushi had no trouble sleeping by the fireplace when there weren’t any points for him to earn a place in a bed.
Atsushi was fine with it. He wouldn’t be here forever.
Where an orphan with nothing to his name could go once he was thrown out of the orphanage was uncertain, but when the nights were cold, Atsushi would light the fireplace and sing for the children huddling around him for warmth and comfort. Atsushi had nothing to give them but company and a lullaby to soothe them to sleep. He continued to sing softly until their eyes fluttered sleepily, the weight of their lives temporarily lifted as they listened to his song and fell asleep. He sang of any wishes they had coming true, of a life outside of this place that was better.
They’d only been in this wretched place for a few years, but Atsushi had been immediately taken with the five young orphan children— and if he had his way, he’d make sure they’d get out of it faster than he ever would.
Fingers stroking Sakura’s brown hair and arm laid over Shinji and Kousuke’s backs as they pressed up against his hip, Atsushi stared into the dying hearth and frowned.
There wasn’t any room left for Atsushi’s wishes. There was no point in it for him; that precious margin of time was already long gone.
But for them..
He would make it possible.
Yuu curled up in his lap and Keisuke using Atsushi’s ankle as a pillow, the five young orphans slept by the hearth with the older boy who bore punishments for them, did their chores when they were too tired and hungry, and sang to them to keep their hopes high when all felt hopeless. With the older boy who’d become a brother in everything but blood to them, they slept through the night and Atsushi watched over them.
Just as he would continue to do until they finally left this damned place.
When Atsushi finished his chores by the skin of his teeth, what little free time he had was spent slipping out to the woods outside the orphanage to read in solitude. Sometimes the children would accompany him and he’d read to them; Shinji’s favorites were the stories of the Fair Folk, Sakura and Kousuke enjoyed the tales of brave knights and ladies fighting against the odds. Whenever he could, Atsushi indulged in their whims, but even then, sometimes he liked a little privacy. He got so little of it when living in an orphanage with dozens of other children.
In a grove of wisteria, not yet quite ready to bloom, Atsushi sat in a patch of sunlight against the trunk of a tree. He laid the book in his lap, pressed against his knees and was lost in his book; he devoured the world it offered him, something different from this place. Somewhere better.
Atsushi didn’t look up from his book until he heard the crack of broken branches and a dark shape moving between the hedges of the trees. The snap echoed through the woods and Atsushi started, eyes widened.
He’d been going to these woods for years, no one had ever found him here.
A hunter? A thief? A vagrant--!?
The heavy branches of wisteria hid the shape from sight, and his shoulders tense, Atsushi slowly raised himself to a stand. His book left on the fallen trunk, Atsushi stepped back and wrapped his fingers around a stray rock lodged underneath a root.
The sounds of branches breaking grew louder, joined by the shuffle of a large body edging closer to where Atsushi was. His fingers tightened around the rock.
Something pale stretched out of the darkness, curling around a bulb of pale lavender wisteria buds, and Atsushi’s breath hitched.
With a war cry, Atsushi threw his arm back and tossed the rock in his hand, barely larger than a pebble, forward. It flew across the grove--
“Argh--!”
Atsushi gaped with comically wide eyes as another young man, clothed in pure black and hair dark as soot, stumbled forward into the grove clutching at his face. Stormy gray eyes burned into a scowl, lower half of his face obscured by his hand, cradling his nose.
Picking up a spare tree branch, Atsushi bent his legs and glared at the intruder. He ignored how his legs shook.
“W-Who are you!? What are you doing in my grove!?”
The young man made a derisive noise, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. It was bright red on his pale skin; right where the pebble had hit his face. “Your grove? Does it have your name somewhere, or do you just declare dominance over your territory by throwing objects at unknowing persons regularly?”
Bristling, Atsushi squared his jaw. “Do you just always sneak up on people like a creep then?”
The man’s lips pulled back into a sneer, showing his teeth. “As far as I’ve been aware, no one comes to this spot except myself-- though for a change, I seem to have been proven wrong. And you could’ve broken my nose, I’ll have you know--”
Atsushi slowly lowered the branch, surprised and growing more shamefaced. “You-- come here, too? I didn’t think anyone else knew about it..”
The man rubbed his nose with the back of his knuckles, giving Atsushi a sour look. “Nor did I. But I come to these woods often enough, it’s owned by no one.”
“Oh,” Atsushi fumbled, shuffling his feet and lowering the branch. “I’m sorry, you just startled me.”
The man snorted, crossing his arms over his chest; he was clad in pure black clothes that were clean and tailored to fit his lithe form. Nicer than any scrap of cloth Atsushi’d ever been given. Atsushi felt dirty standing across from him in clothes that were old and falling apart. But knowing the wrong he’d done, Atsushi walked towards the other man. The man narrowed his eyes at Atsushi and lowered his hand, and Atsushi was startled to see drips of blood coming from his nose.
He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and the man’s shoulders jolted. “Let me,” Atsushi said firmly when the man’s eyes flashed. “It was my fault, anyway. I want to make up for it.”
Iron gray eyes searched his face before the man sighed, acquiescing with a short huff. Atsushi lightly brushed the blood off, the proximity making him take note of the white that grew on the tips of the man’s hair, and stepped back, hands behind his back. He smiled. “There, better.”
The man looked away with a grumpy expression on his face, but he mumbled something that almost resembled a thank you. Atsushi’s smile broadened.
He was content to continue on his way until the other man kneeled down and picked something up; Atsushi’s book. The dark-haired man looked over the cover, the title, and glanced at Atsushi.
“...You have decent taste.”
Atsushi beamed.
Until the orange rays of the sun fell upon the woods, Atsushi sat beside the mysterious, darkly clad man on that fallen trunk, discussing the book in Atsushi’s lap. They spoke of their mutual interest in the prose, the words and how the sentences flowed. They debated the decisions and motives of the characters, whether or not they were compelling, and the other man’s quietly smirking refusal to tell Atsushi how the book ended. He was unfairly amused at the way Atsushi pressed his lips together and cheeks puffing out some in an impression of a scowl at the other man’s teasing.
“Read till the end and learn for yourself,” he said.
Atsushi didn’t realize how late it’d gotten till the bells of the orphanage chapel rang in the distance. He’d lost track of the time while reading and sitting with the dark-haired man with eyes like iron and pale skin. Atsushi got up in a hurry, brushing the leaves off of his clothes as the other man stood to leave.
“Thank you for sitting with me,” said Atsushi, lips curling into a wry smile. “Even after I threw a rock at your face.”
“I suppose it wasn’t terrible,” the man said. He didn’t smile, but the lines of his face were smooth. In a flourish of dark clothing, leaves, and the ringing of the bells, the man left and Atsushi returned to the orphanage.
Atsushi kept his sleeves low on his arms to hide the lashings for his lateness from the headmaster as he smiled and gave his share of dinner to the children. As they ate and Atsushi ignored the pang of hunger in his stomach, he realized that he’d never gotten the dark-haired man’s name.
In the castle of the aging King Natsume, a young man with dark hair and lithe fingers pulled an old book out of its shelf on the grand library. The pages fluttered against each other softly as the young man flipped through the book. The Prince Sakunosuke leaned over the shoulder of the young man and asked him what he was reading.
The young man closed it with a firm noise. He didn’t smile, but the stoic edges of his face were softer.
Prince Sakunosuke, who’d known the young dark-haired man since he was but a child, had never seen him make such an expression outside of being around his sister or his beloved horse.
Even now, this was… different.
There was an upturn to his mouth, just a slight; resembling the ghost of a smile.
“Just an old book I’d once read a long time ago.”
He put Light, Wind and Dreams back on the shelf and returned to his training with the prince.
Using the light of the dying fireplace, the five children sleeping around him, Atsushi continued to read Light, Wind and Dreams as his wounds and bruises healed. He didn’t come back to the grove until two weeks later, when the wisteria were in full bloom. A new book in his lap, he read and didn’t look up until he heard movement in the distance.
Hearing the rustle of branches and leaves, Atsushi looked up. There was no tensing of his shoulders and no fear.
Gray eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.
“You’re not going to throw a rock at my face this time, then?”
Atsushi laughed.
For the few hours spared to Atsushi, he talked about the book and other books that he loved with the dark-haired man, sitting in the grove of wisteria as the sun beamed down at them. Atsushi shared the new book that he was reading; an old edition that he’d been interested in since he was a child, but hadn’t gotten a chance to read until now. The dark-haired man seemed impressed (as much as Atsushi could tell from how stoic the man was) with how well-read Atsushi was, and he even offered some titles that he enjoyed. Atsushi listened with rapt attention and interjected whenever he had a thought to offer, remembering each title that the man gave him. They talked and talked about books, stories and other meaningless things until the ringing of the bell came.
The man got up to leave, but in a moment of boldness, Atsushi grasped his sleeve. The man paused and looked at him. Before he lost his nerve, Atsushi offered him a shy grin.
“Am I going to get to know the name of the man who I just sat with for three hours or are you going to just disappear on me like some brooding leading man in a Gothic novel?”
The man scoffed. There was a pause before he answered, his response slow and raspy,
“...Ryuunosuke, that’s enough of an answer, isn't it?”
Atsushi huffed, shaking his head. He couldn't fight the smile. “All right, Ryuunosuke. That's more than enough.”
Ryuunosuke grunted. Crossing his arms, he tilted his head at Atsushi. “And yours?”
Atsushi's smile spread.
“Atsushi.”
Their meetings weren't planned, but a pattern began. Whenever Atsushi could get the time to himself, he would return to the wisteria grove, a book in hand. Sometimes it would just be him, but others, Ryuunosuke would return and they would sit and talk. On occasion, Ryuunosuke would bring a book with him and give it to Atsushi to read. Though they often spoke about books, other subjects and interests began to take hold between them.
And steadily, like the turning of the winds, they began to grow closer.
Atsushi hesitated, biting his lip before he raised his hand high to stroke down the black stallion’s neck. In the shade, the horse’s eyes seemed to glimmer red, his coat pure black and smooth. The horse was simply massive next to Atsushi and he was intimidated by how heavy its hooves were, cautious of how close they were to his own bare, fragile feet. The horse snorted at him, tapping its front hoof against the ground. Before Atsushi could move away, Ryuunosuke pushed him back forward by the small of his back. His hand lingered before he told Atsushi, murmuring against his ear, to put an apple in his hand and hold it out to Rashomon.
Ryuunosuke put the apple in his hand, fingertips brushing against Atsushi’s palm. His hand lingered on the small of Atsushi’s back, firm but not harsh. Atsushi could feel his breath against the shell of his ear. There were barely centimeters between the sensitive flesh of his ear lobe and Ryuunosuke’s lips.
Stomach twisting with something unfamiliar but pleasantly hot, Atsushi strived to ignore it and focused on the task at hand.
Swallowing, Atsushi unfurled his fingers and held it out. Rashomon stared at him, tail swishing from behind like a whip, and lowered his large head. The apple crunched loudly as he ate, right out Atsushi’s palm. Atsushi laughed breathily and his fear of the large animal dissipated. The horse nudged his snout into Atsushi’s palm, causing Atsushi to give a small noise of surprise and Atsushi slowly ran his hand down the beast’s neck.
Having stepped back, arms crossed, Ryuunosuke stood. His mouth twitched slightly. “It seems as if he tolerates you.”
“Tolerates? What an honor,” Atsushi teased, grinning at the horse and laughing when Rashomon tried to look for more treats, nosing at his ribcage. “Do be sure to tell him that the feeling is mutual, and that he’s very beautiful, too.”
“I don’t need to tell him anything,” Ryuunosuke said shortly, his palms held out when his horse wandered to him, nuzzling his shoulder as Ryuunosuke stroked his long mane. “He already knows.”
Ryuunosuke’s face was so stoic and expressionless, but there was a tenderness in how he brushed his horse’s mane and stroked his neck. Tenderness and affection that was returned by the animal, shown by his horse neighing at him, blowing against equally dark hair and brushing his large snout against Ryuunosuke’s forehead gently.
Atsushi had never been around an animal so large as a horse; they were animals meant for nobility and farmers, those who could afford and needed them. The most the orphanage could manage were a few pigs and a modest chicken coop. Not even the Headmaster had a horse of his own. Ryuunosuke never told him what his occupation was or where he lived, but he was clearly plenty wealthy enough to be able to afford a horse, to afford the clothes on his back, and his love for his horse was clear.
Atsushi had nothing to his name but the clothes on his back.
Is it really okay for me to be around someone like Ryuu?
Absently rubbing the bandages on his arms, hidden beneath his sleeves, Atsushi started when the clang of metal being adjusted on the horse’s saddle rang into the field, and looked up to see Ryuunosuke holding out a hand to him.
“Climb atop his saddle. I want to show you something.”
Having never ridden a horse before in his life, Atsushi got his foot stuck in the stirrup and would’ve fallen hard on his back if not for Ryuunosuke catching him. Ryuunosuke called him clumsy under his breath, held him by the waist and hoisted Atsushi onto the saddle. Once Atsushi was seated comfortably, Ryuunosuke pulled himself up and told Atsushi to wrap his arms around his middle. His face burning red, Atsushi swallowed and slid up on the saddle enough to wrap his arms fully around Ryuunosuke’s abdomen. He was so flustered that he never noticed Ryuunosuke’s breath hitching sharply.
The other man looked at him over his shoulder and Atsushi nodded.
When Rashomon broke out into a trot, Atsushi squeaked and held on tighter to Ryuunosuke. Ryuunosuke smirked faintly and drew Rashomon into a canter once he heard Atsushi’s hushed inhaled breaths of awe as the scenery of the forest flew around them. Rashomon continued to ride until well out of the forest and into a field just on the outskirts of the kingdom’s village, where the land was barren and bore no fruit. They stopped before an abandoned cottage, the roof having caved in on itself, windows broken and glass gone. The stone was old and covered in moss and cracks.
“What is this place?”
Ryuunosuke slid off of the saddle and helped Atsushi down, grasping his waist. His hands lingered even when Atsushi was firmly on the ground. His fingers were thin and slender, and held onto him so securely, pressing into skin through thin cloth. Atsushi missed the contact as soon as they were gone.
(The way Ryuunosuke removed them seemed almost reluctant.)
“I used to live here.”
Ryuunosuke didn’t tell Atsushi his entire story; he kept his words short, clipped and straightforward, not lingering on longer details and talked nothing of his parents. He spoke only of the decrepit hovel he lived in with his sister, how life had been hard and they’d been on their own. Only through the mercy and kindness of a single man were they brought out of the nadir outside the village and given salvation and better lives.
Atsushi found it amazing; that Ryuunosuke had found such a better life to the one he’d once had, that-- he’d been just like him, once. That, despite the wealth he had now, Ryuu wasn’t that different to him.
“Thank you, Ryuu,” he said softly, “For telling me.”
Sitting on the front steps of the abandoned cottage, Ryuu didn’t respond, only closing his eyes. Atsushi sat down beside him. He rubbed his covered arm, taking in the comfortable silence between them. Beside Ryuu, Atsushi watched the growing sunset and hoped that the children hadn’t noticed his absence too much that day; he’d been gone for quite a while, desperate to finish his chores early so as to meet Ryuu in the grove. The children would ask where he’d gone and he would just smile, nursing their bloody fingertips and aches before sending them to bed. Their meetings had become a beacon of joy to him in such a short time.
And he still didn’t even know Ryuu’s family name.
It didn’t matter.
They didn’t always talk, but even the silence, it was as if Atsushi could forget about the orphanage entirely, that it didn’t exist at all. That his wounds and lashings didn’t linger or sting beneath his sleeves. For however short a time, he felt at peace.
“Why do you stay there?”
“Hmm?” Atsushi blinked, lifting his head off of Ryuu’s shoulder. He'd almost fallen asleep against him. His bones were sharp, but his presence was warm. Comforting and safe.
“Wherever you live, whoever you live with,” said Ryuu. His frown was hard, anger growing in his eyes. “I'm not blind, Atsushi.”
Atsushi's left foot throbbed and he drew his legs in. He wrapped his arms around his knees, his sleeves sliding against the bandages on his arms.
Ryuu’s frown deepened into a scowl, fingers curled into fists. Atsushi'd never told him where he lived, never told him his surname, his origins, any mention of his family-- and Ryuu understood. He saw. Just as he saw how Atsushi would try to hide his pains, his hurts, his bruises. He saw it all.
“Why don't you leave?”
Atsushi swallowed hard. “I can't,” he whispered. His shoulders trembled.
“Why not?”
Atsushi smiled shakily at the frustration bleeding through Ryuu's tone. He looked up at the other young man and his eyes burned.
“Where would I go? I have nothing, Ryuu. Nothing. No money, no family-- nowhere to go if I left.”
Ryuu's trained his jaw. “..But you want to, don't you?”
“Of course I do,” Atsushi croaked. “I want to leave, that's all I want, I want to leave-- but I can't. And I.. I can't leave them behind.”
The headmaster didn't know. Nor did the children. But Atsushi was determined to look for a job, anywhere that would take him in so that he would have money to spare, and when he did, he would take them all with him. Sakura, Kousuke, Shinji, Yuu and Keisuke -- all five of them, he couldn't just leave them. They meant far too much to him, now. He wouldn't leave them behind in that place. He wouldn't leave until he could take them with.
Atsushi's breath choked as the tears came, hot and wet on his cheeks, eyes burning even as he pressed his palms against them.
How pathetic of him, to cry in front of this man.
Ryuu said nothing, staring at Atsushi from the corner of his eye. His hands clenched then released, raising his hand as if to reach out when Atsushi's shaking gradually came to a stop, breath shaky. But he hesitated and lowered his hand. His expression darkened with frustration, and then, slowly, smoothed out. Together, they sat on the doorstep of what had once been Ryuu's home, in silence.
His hand, clenched on his lap so tightly that his knuckles were white, slowly relaxed as an idea came to him.
Atsushi looked up when Ryuu suddenly stood.
“You won't have to.”
The older girls and young men chattered about it in the orphanage, voices excited and eager as they planned what nice dresses and outfits they would wear to the prince’s ball. All young men and women were encouraged to attend: though meant to find a bride for the Prince Sakunosuke, it was also a time for leisure for the masses. Those who’d earned enough points and were of age were allowed to go.
Atsushi didn't own much, let alone nice enough clothes to go to something like a ball-- but there were clothes left behind by boys who'd left the orphanage. As long as he cleaned them and patched up the holes and seams, Atsushi hoped it would be presentable enough.
It didn't matter to him that this ball was for the prince, he didn’t care about the prince: Ryuu was going to be there, and he wanted Atsushi there, with him.
As he did his chores, Atsushi tried in vain to fight a giddy smile.
Yuu noticed Atsushi’s sudden good mood and teased him about it, tugging the end of his shirt to ask him what he was smiling about. Keisuke squinted at him and asked, slyly, who he was smiling about. Cheeks flushing, Atsushi shooed them both off to finish tending to the laundry and to leave him alone already. There was little more than a week till the ball and Atsushi was to be on his best behavior if he had any hope of going; the Headmaster was always watching.
The night before the ball, Sakura and Shinji walked into Atsushi’s place by the hearth, sitting close to the warmth but away from the ashes. His fingertips were bandaged from pricking his fingers too much on the needle he used to stitch the tear in pale blue blazer.
“You’re going?” asked Sakura, curled up by his hip.
“I want to.”
Shinji pressed a book Atsushi promised to read to him to his chest. “Is there someone you want to meet there?”
Atsushi’s smile widened. “There is.”
Sakura’s eyes widened. “The prince?”
Laughing, Atsushi shook his head. “No, not the prince.”
“Who?” Shinji asked, brushing any hint of ash away from the hems of the blazer sleeves. “We will get to meet them? Are they a friend?”
“You could say that,” Atsushi grinned. “And you will.”
“When?” Sakura pouted.
“Soon,” Atsushi murmured.
The morning of the ball, Atsushi’s outfit was almost assembled completely (with much help from the five children), and he stood shakily before the Headmaster’s desk as he asked to attend the ball that evening. He swallowed hard as the Headmaster stared at him, unblinking and silent. Atsushi steeled his breath as the Headmaster stood up from his desk and walked forward, hands tucked behind his back. His face showed no anger, no hint of displeasure, but it gave Atsushi no relief. He could barely let himself breathe as the Headmaster came closer, just inches between them to spare.
He felt the proximity like steel chains strapped to his feet.
“What makes you think they would ever let someone so dirty as you past the palace gates?”
Atsushi felt like a child again, his face being shoved into a basin of water and held down, choking and screaming from the tight hold on his hair, when he stumbled to the basement hearth. The ashes stained his feet and knees as he fell, clutching his abdomen. His knuckles were bruised and bloody, his scalp burning from where the Headmaster had pulled his hair. The door slammed shut and the click of the lock was deafening. Outside, the children watched in mute, teary eyed horror as the Headmaster walked away from the basement, the key in his hands. He crushed the invitation Ryuu had given Atsushi in his palm.
A beating for lying and a beating for stealing from a nobleman, for no one could’ve given such an official invitation to Atsushi. A beating for, if he was telling the truth, leaving and telling no one where he’d gone.
The Headmaster wrenched the clothes that Atsushi patched together himself and locked him in the basement-- a familiar place of punishment-- to rot. Ash curled in his palms as Atsushi wept.
I'm sorry, Ryuu… I won't be able to make it after all.
Alone in the ashes, Atsushi wept until his eyes burned. He rubbed his eyes and curled on the floor, hoping he’d fall asleep, when he heard the rattle of the cleaning closet door. Atsushi came to the door as it rattled louder and louder, twisting it open after a short breath--
A man tumbled out of the closet, falling face first to the floor.
Atsushi gaped as the man groaned and picked himself up, rubbing the small of his back. Grumbling to himself about a some short stupid hat wearing buffoon, the man pat the dust and ash off of the tails of his coat, his hands making a loud noise against his backside. Fluffing his messy brown hair, the man stood up straighter and blinked. He stared at Atsushi and beamed widely, bowing a sweeping bow before the young man.
“Hello, Atsushi! Apologies about my rather.. uncouth introduction, I had a bit of a mishap on my way here. My name is Dazai, and I am your fai--”
He squawked when Atsushi hit him with a broom, wielding it like a sword.
“Is this any way to treat your fairy god-- ow!” Dazai screeched when Atsushi hit the back of his head with the broom again.
“W-Who are you!? What do you want?! How did you get in here!?”
“PUT DOWN THE BROOM WILL YOU--” wailed Dazai. “OW--”
It took several minutes and a gentle show of magic (blooming flowers in his palm) to calm a stunned and frightened Atsushi down. After apologizing quietly to the mysterious man, Atsushi put the kettle on the burning fireplace. Dazai hummed cheerfully into the cup of tea Atsushi brewed for him and crossed his legs while sitting on the countertop.
“I knew you could be reasonable, Atsushi!” he trilled. “You also have surprisingly good aim. Rather impressive!”
That sounds familiar, Atsushi thought. He shifted his feet uncomfortably. “So, you’re.. A fairy.”
Dazai stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling, humming, and shrugged.
“More or less.”
Atsushi’s fingers curled in his lap. “If you’re one of the fair folk, then why are you here?”
Dazai blinked, owlish. He lowered his cup slowly and cocked his head at Atsushi. “I’m sending you off to the ball, obviously.”
A beat of silence.
Then, Atsushi’s shoulders shook with disbelieving laughter. “Me? I can’t go. I’m locked in down here, I’ve got nothing to wear, and no way to even get there. I shouldn’t even want to go.”
Dazai peered at him over his cup. His mouth curved upwards behind his cup. “But you do want to go, don’t you?”
Atsushi clenched his jaw, staring at the ashes on the floor. He didn’t answer.
Dazai smiled, lowering his cup. He dusted off his shoulders, stretched out his arms and cracked his joints as the room began to tidy itself up on its own. He took no mind to Atsushi staring at the moving brooms and dish rags on their own, cleaning up all the dust and dirty dishes left behind. “Well, then, let’s get you ready. Can’t let you just waltz on in dressed in rags, Atsushi.”
Atsushi pursed his lips, clutching the front of his chest. “Why are you helping me?”
“A little bit of kindness goes a long way, Atsushi,” Dazai said, tapping his chin as he pondered colors to go with Atsushi’s unique hair color. “Even to a fox. Now, hold still, I’ve got just the thing-”
Memories of giving an injured fox food from the kitchens stirred Atsushi’s mind as the fae floated around him, pinching his shoulders, hips, and tutting under his breath. It was a fox that he saw often; first, when he found it injured after being caught in a hunting trap when Atsushi was but eleven years old. He rushed back to the orphanage to bring a warm rag, bandages and scraps of food for the injured, crying fox. Once he offered it food as a peaceful gesture, the fox no longer growled or hissed at him, and allowed Atsushi to tend to it. It was three weeks before the fox was completely healed and when Atsushi removed the last bandages, the fox licked his fingers in gratitude before scurrying away.
Every few years or so, the fox with devious brown eyes would return and Atsushi would offer it scraps from the kitchen.
His eyes gradually widened with realization when the fae’s eyes twinkled with something mischievous, just as the fox’s did.
Dazai only offered Atsushi a bright grin as he pulled him by the hand to begin work on… fixing Atsushi’s outfit for the ball.
Atsushi was growing quickly exhausted from Dazai’s antics just as a cloud of silver dust blew into his face. Coughing, Atsushi rubbed his face and glared at a beaming Dazai.
“Are you done yet?” he grumbled.
“I am,” Dazai trilled smug. Looking over his handiwork on Atsushi, he sighed theatrically, rather pleased with himself. “Oh, he won’t be able to get enough of you. Come along now--
You’ve a ball to get to.”
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke enjoyed balls as much as Prince Sakunosuke did; which, to say, not at all. He preferred silence, his books and the armory, but as the prince’s knight and attendant, it was his job to be present— much as they both despised it.
Had Sakunosuke not done him this favor, the prince would’ve long since escaped this ball to hide in the library or go on a walk throughout the village. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Prince Gide had been quite.. displeased when Sakunosuke had not turned up to the last ball thrown in his honor. King Natsume had to very nearly fight the prince on getting him to properly attend this one— until Ryuunosuke came to Odasaku in private and asked that he go through with it, just this once.
Why? the prince asked.
Because there’s someone important that I must meet there.
He was sure Gin was laughing at him as he stood behind the prince, a sour expression on his face. He stared out into the crowd, sharpening his glare when someone got too close to Odasaku before he grew bored once more.
The longer he waited, the more disappointment grew-- and worry.
His fingers curled into fists, glaring at the marble floor when he found no sign of moonlight colored hair anywhere amongst the crowd. He was about to turn on his heel and leave, ignoring Odasaku’s concerned glance, to retrieve Rashomon and finally find out where Atsushi lived--
A hush fell over the crowd and Ryuunosuke paused.
Ryuu glanced over his shoulder, turning on his feet. Lips parting with a hitch, his eyes widened.
Atsushi nervously tugged at the end of his hair, woven with little white flowers; white periwinkles, meant to accentuate the silver color of his hair, so Dazai said as the strands wove around the stalks. Atsushi found it miraculous that they hadn’t fallen out of his hair yet. Unused to all the eyes following him as he walked through the hall, he rubbed his arms. The fabric felt so fine and odd against his skin, not used to such delicate clothing. But it fit his form well and was comfortable to move around in. What left him unsettled was having so many eyes on him as he stepped through the ballroom.
Atsushi waved through the crowd, white shoes designed with flowers on them tapping quietly against the marble floor, and looked up nervously when the party goers moved back, leaving a pathway for him.
He kept his eyes low, unable to meet the stares of any of the stunned party attendees, until he felt a familiar, intense pair settled him. Slowly, he looked up.
Warmth spread in his cheeks as soon as he met Ryuu’s stare and he couldn’t fight a smile.
As soon as those eyes fell on him and met his own, Atsushi forgot all the others that watched him. To him, they existed no more.
Odasaku watched with intrigue as Ryuunosuke left his side and stepped towards the silver-haired young man clad in garments that clung to his slender form, robes and cloth the color of moonlight that glimmered like stars in the candlelight; he outshone everyone else in the hall.
His brows rose high on his forehead when Ryuunosuke bowed deeply to the other man, dropping down to one knee and palm pressed to his chest; a feat no other besides himself and King Natsume earned out of the surly knight.
All around them, nobles, the common folk and others hitched their breaths in shock at the knight who bowed to no one but the royal family— now, to this young man with eyes the color of a sunset.
But to Ryuunosuke and Atsushi, there was no one else in the room at all.
Atsushi’s smile widened.
“Hi, Ryuu,” he breathed.
His cheeks flushed pink when Ryuu took his hand (looking so handsome and his jawline sharp in the light) and kissed the back of his knuckles. It was but a brush of thin lips against his hand, but it sent a pleasant tremor throughout Atsushi’s body, spreading all the way to his fingertips and toes.
Ryuunosuke glanced up at him over his knuckles, taking in how beautifully the light outlined Atsushi’s face and body.
“You’re late,” he murmured against Atsushi’s hand.
Everyone wondered where he’d come from, whispering about to themselves about this young man they’d never seen before, but wore such lovely clothing and had such a remarkable, beauteous face— but Atsushi paid them no mind when Ryuunosuke awkwardly asked him for a dance. The dark-haired man held out his hands, taking Atsushi’s in them as Atsushi quietly said, yes, breathless.
Heart hammering in his chest, he let Ryuunosuke take the lead, holding his hip and put his own on the taller man’s shoulders. Ryuunosuke’s fingers were slender and steady on his body, and for once, it was a touch that did not come with hurt. Atsushi could’ve melted into it and Ryuunosuke’s grip grew more firm.
As they drew into a waltz along with the music, Ryuunosuke grimaced and hissed when Atsushi stepped on his foot.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Atsushi bit his lip, shamefaced. His cheeks colored pink, eyes lowered. “I’ve.. never danced before…”
Ryuunosuke looked at him and grunted, exhaling.
Atsushi’s eyes widened when the hand on his hip drew him closer.
There was just inches between their noses and Atsushi could feel the other man’s breath against his lips, warm and inviting. Those gray eyes were so close now, boring into him with some heady emotion that Atsushi couldn’t read— but understood.
It was one he shared, and his heart pounded.
“Then I’ll just have to teach you.”
Prince Sakunosuke watched in fascination as the anti-social knight that Odasaku had plucked off of the streets along with his sister, who never had much love for dancing or balls whatsoever, taught the strange young man to dance and danced with him all throughout the night. The crowd parted as they glided across the floor, the young man’s uncertain steps becoming confident and strong with the knight’s guidance. When they turned, the silver-haired young man would sometimes laugh, a joyful sound. Whenever someone tried to steal him away, the young man returned to Ryuunosuke’s side in a moment or the knight himself would pull him back into his arms.
Ryuunosuke held the boy close with more tenderness than Odasaku thought possible of him, and the boy would speak and Odasaku would see a rare smile.
What kind of spell have you put over my knight? He wondered.
He couldn’t fight the twitch on his mouth when Ryuunosuke and the young man finished their dance. They held onto each other’s hands, lingering, their respective gazes completely on each other, and Odasaku’s stared followed them as Ryuunosuke weaved them through the crowd and out to the gardens for some well-deserved privacy.
Once more left alone at his own party, Odasaku stared dully across the crowd and hoped the best for Ryuunosuke; he deserved happiness.
But if the way that boy smiled was any indication— Ryuunosuke’s feelings were returned in full.
Odasaku smiled to himself as he wondered if he should start preparing for a wedding.
He caught glimpse of hazel eyes that glimmered back at him from underneath a large black pointed hat, framed by tufts of brown hair, and a foxlike mouth that smiled at him. The man lowered his hat off of his head and it seemed to vanish as he tucked it behind his back, stepping out of a shadowy corner behind a pillar to join the crowd. Hazel eyes never left Odasaku’s, hazel eyes that he’d see in the gardens and when he’d departed to the village to get some air from the castle. Hazel eyes that were devious and yet sad that drew Odasaku in like moth to a flame.
The man held out his hand, and he waited.
It was King Natsume’s turn to look in intrigue as his adopted son and heir stood to join a tall brunette man in a dance, a tango; the first he’d made all night. Humming, he stroked his beard, thoughtful.
“Interesting.”
“You never said you were royalty,” Atsushi murmured, frowning. The lilacs of the tree they stood under brushed against his hair. Some petals fell into the strands, joining the periwinkles.
Ryuunosuke gently plucked them out, dark hair almost silver under the moon. “I’m not exactly royalty-- and you never asked. Thus, I never said anything.”
He half-smirked and scoffed when Atsushi hit his elbow, flustered. Atsushi started to chuckle, too, unable to believe it; he was here, sitting with Akutagawa Ryuunosuke in the king’s royal gardens, a knight and attendant to the prince himself. And there was he, himself, wearing clothes nicer than he could ever hope to have, under a perfect moonlit sky near midnight with his friend, with the man he..
The man he..
Fingers intertwined as they walked through the gardens, talking and falling into silence. Ryuunosuke showed him all the flowers, despite him having no real love for them, and Atsushi walked in awe. Ryuunosuke asked if he’d nearly finished the last book they’d read together, if Atsushi’d liked it, and Atsushi answered with a smile that he’d loved the book. When they came near a trickling fountain, Atsushi traced the reflection of the moon outlined on the surface with his fingertips, causing a ripple in the water and Ryuunosuke watched the other man’s smile; it was so peaceful, at ease, carrying none of the weight it normally did. It was a smile of pure joy.
He was suddenly struck by how much he wanted to see that smile always.
Together in those gardens, they spoke of everything and nothing. Words went unsaid, too hesitant and shy to be spoken aloud. The sound of music was distant, flutes and strings being carried on the wind.
Had it not been for Dazai’s mercy, Atsushi would’ve never gotten this chance, this opportunity. So joyful and happy was he, he forgot the fae’s quiet words of warning for his time limit as Ryuunosuke drew him further into the grove where they could be completely alone— the darkness and moonlight combined made the other man’s features sharper yet soft.
Underneath the red chestnut tree, Ryuunosuke took his hands. He squeezed them tight in his own.
“You don’t have to go back there.”
Atsushi’s hands trembled and he pursed his lips, eyes shining and wet. Ryuunosuke’s grip tightened and he drew those hands to his chest. Atsushi’s fingers curled, nails dragging against the fabric as he stared into eyes so intense and honest.
“You never have to go back there. Not you, not— not those children either. They, and you, you all can…”
Pausing, Ryuunosuke lifted a hand and raised it to hover just by the side of Atsushi’s face. He sucked in a breath when, his stare unmoving, Atsushi pressed it fully to his cheek and leaned into the hold of his palm against his face.
The knight drew closer and his murmur was loud as drums in Atsushi’s ears. He wondered if he just imagined hearing both of their hearts racing.
“You can stay, here.”
With me.
And for once, as Atsushi closed his eyes and tilted his head just so as Ryuunosuke leaned down, he believed it. His fingers curled around Ryuunosuke’s, the hand cupping his face so tenderly as his own lips parted.
Parted lips met and Atsushi knew now, more than ever, there was more beyond the orphanage; it was here.
With Ryuunosuke.
Hands slid into Ryuunosuke’s hair and Atsushi pressed against his chest while Ryuunosuke’s arms wrapped around his waist. His hair was so soft and his thin lips were so warm and fit against his own so perfectly— Atsushi tasted the faint hint of green tea on Ryuunosuke’s lips.
Before Ryuunosuke could backtrack, wondering if he’d made a mistake after they parted for breath, Atsushi staring at him with wide eyes, Atsushi used the leverage of his hands in Ryuunosuke’s hair to draw him back down for another kiss. More pressure, more feeling, letting Ryuunosuke feel all that Atsushi had kept pent up for so long— everything that Atsushi felt for him.
Against Ryuunosuke’s mouth, Atsushi smiled and breathed the happiest sigh.
They kissed and kissed and kissed and Atsushi forgot the midnight chimes.
Ryuunosuke’s slender hands were climbing along his back, slow and sensual, and one of Atsushi’s hands drew downwards, sliding over the fabric of Ryuunosuke’s clothed chest, when the second chime rang, and Atsushi’s eyes open. Pulling back, he glanced at the clock tower just in the distance. His breath hitched and his eyes widened when he saw both hands on the twelve.
No, no, no, not now , please—
Pursing his lips, Atsushi clutched at the front of Ryuunosuke’s clothes and looked up at the confused man when he asked, Atsushi? quietly.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I have to go.”
The chiming of the clock drowned out Ryuunosuke’s shouts for him to stop and Atsushi closed his eyes hard while his breath choked as he ran. In a moment of panic, he’d shoved Ryuunosuke back (not without rushing out another quick apology) to give him enough time to rush out to the palace gates. He avoided any curious and befuddled stares and questions sent his way, focusing on the chimes of the bells in order to distract himself from Ryuunosuke’s shouts. He’d always been quick on his feet; even with Ryuunosuke’s demands to stop right behind him, he kept running. No matter how much he wanted to turn around and rush back into Ryuunosuke’s arms, he couldn’t.
This had been so wonderful, Atsushi couldn’t let him see it; how the hems of his clothing were disintegrating like ash into rags. He would never get another night like this and he didn’t want it spoiled.
He wasn’t even sure if they’d ever get to see each other again, and he didn’t want this one memory to be tainted.
Atsushi reached the gates when he paused, his chest burning as he caught his breath. He clutched his knees, narrowing his eyes into the darkness of the forest ahead. The chimes were ticking closer to midnight and he felt the magic leaving him already, an echo of Dazai’s warning in his ear.
Only until midnight.
Silver fabric began to return to blue wool, but the white shoes laced with leaf trimmings remained. Atsushi observed them, how they had yet to disappear, and his eyes gradually widened as an idea— a foolish, foolish idea came to him. Biting his lip at the sound of hooves in the distance, he reached down and took one shoe off.
Rashomon grunted as he was forced to a stop, tapping his hooves as Ryuunosuke slid off. His shouted Atsushi’s name again and again, the only response being the sound of the party in the distance, his own voice echoing, and the noises of the forest at night. He could’ve struck a tree in sheer frustration and loss or pulled his own hair, had it not been for the flash of silver in the corner of his eye. His forehead wrinkled in a confused scowl as he knelt down into a crouch, and he stared out into the darkness just beyond the castle. His fingers clenched around the shoe in his palm.
Atsushi didn’t give himself a moment to breathe until he collapsed in the kitchen, panting and flushed. His heels slid against the floor, head against the wall, and a silly grin on his lips.
“Here’s hoping you’re not too thick-headed, Ryuu.”
A shoe threaded with white leaves and flowers was pressed against his chest.
The children asked him the next morning why he seemed so happy, smiling as he did grueling chores, even humming under his breath. Atsushi promised them they would know why soon.
Throughout the week, Atsushi waited and looked out the window each day, wondering when that black stallion would come to the doorstep of the orphanage and bring his rider with him. Tucked away in his basement room, under the floor boards, he hid the silver shoe. He didn’t show it even to the children. Ash soon clung to his fingers, hair and his skin, and Atsushi hoped it would be enough to make him unrecognizable. Dazai had done so much to make him seem otherworldly, surely no one else would be able to recognize him.
For that week, Atsushi did his chores with more cheer than ever before, always fighting a silly smile as he thought of that night. Not even his bleeding fingers stalled his cheer.
Try as he might, he wasn’t able to conceal his joy from suspicious eyes.
Delight and excitement was quickly swallowed by dread and fear when Atsushi returned to his basement room one evening after finishing his tasks to the Headmaster standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked behind his back, as he asked Atsushi where he’d been the night of the ball.
Atsushi attempted to lie that he’d been in the basement the entire night, just as the Headmaster had locked him in— but he was cut short by the Headmaster holding up the white shoe.
“You were here that entire night, were you?”
Word of the Prince’s Knight looking for his mysterious silver-haired companion spread, that whoever fit the silver slipper he carried would immediately be brought to the prince. For marriage or to bring them into the court, one could only guess. For a chance to meet the prince, young men and women lined up to try on the silver slipper left behind.
But the Prince’s Knight would take one glance at their hair, scowl, and leave without ever letting them try.
“I know the face of who I’m looking for,” he’d told Odasaku, “I don’t need a shoe to tell me it’s him; I only need it to find where he is.”
Ryuunosuke thought using the shoe to look for Atsushi was an absolutely ludicrous, stupid idea— but Odasaku pointed out that there was no other options they had, for it was the only clue Ryuunosuke had to go off of. He posited that they use the front of searching for a bride for himself to draw people out— but Ryuunosuke would be the one to decide who would be allowed to try on the shoe.
Reluctant as he was to take on this ridiculous course of action, Ryuunosuke agreed, and so he put it upon himself to search each corner of the village kingdom to look for him.
Nearly a week passed before Ryuunosuke came to the door of the orphanage, having sought throughout the entire kingdom and driven to the outskirts to find the owner of the slipper, only to find nothing but dead ends. It was a most foolish endeavor, but for the sake of finding Atsushi-- he would do anything.
Ryuunosuke disliked the shifty expressions on the orphanage staff as he walked through the doorway, finding no sign of silver hair nor sunset colored eyes. They spoke in closed speech and gave him no respite as he asked, over and over again if these were all the people who lived here. He asked to see every young man and woman of age and his scowl deepened when he once more found no sign of silver hair. He let no one try the slipper on. He asked again and again, is there anyone else who lives here? and the Headmaster affirmed, each and every time, there is no one else.
Each time the Headmaster told him that no one else lived in the orphanage, the other children and of age inhabitants averted their eyes— as if ashamed.
Ryuunosuke’s suspicions only increased
Frustrated, Ryuunosuke nearly walked back out the door before he saw the little girl coming towards him from down the hallway. A group of four boys hissed at her to come back, worried and fearful expressions on their face. They looked between her and the Headmaster, hands clenched in worry. Pausing when she tugged at the end of his black coat, Ryuunosuke lowered down into a kneel before the young girl, meeting her at eye level. He asked for her name; Sakura.
“Is there anyone else who lives here?” he asked.
The Headmaster tried to interrupt him with a, My Lord— but he quieted when Ryuunosuke shot him a cold glare, the hilt of the sword at his hip glinting in the light. Ryuunosuke returned his attention to the little girl, his features softer and more controlled. He waited patiently.
“There is,” she said, whimpering when the Headmaster shot a cold, warning glare.
Ryuunosuke’s jaw clenched.
“Where is he?”
Sakura pointed to the locked door underneath the staircase that led into the basement.
Knuckles bloodied from trying to beat at the door when the Headmaster locked him in (silver hair-- he knew, he knew not how Atsushi had run away that night, but silver hair--), Atsushi winced at the sudden light as the door was forced open with a hard kick.
Breath hitching, Atsushi’s eyes stung as Ryuunosuke descended into the basement, lowered onto one knee before him, and pulled something out of his coat. The slipper shined silver in the dim lighting.
“I believe you’re missing this, Atsushi. You stepped on my feet with it. Do take it back.”
Atsushi gave a watery laugh and launched into Ryuunosuke’s waiting arms.
Under the care of King Natsume and Prince Sakunosuke, the five young orphan children never wanted for anything when Sakunosuke adopted them and Atsushi. The children had full meals every single day, they played in the palace and gardens with carefree abandon, their knees and hands no longer sore and tired from rigorous, cruel chores. Atsushi found a growing friendship with the solemn-eyed and warm-hearted prince who’d brought him and Ryuunosuke together, and for the first time, Atsushi felt hope for his future.
Humming when hands grasped his own, lithe arms wrapped around his waist, Atsushi leaned against Ryuunosuke’s chest.
“Nervous?” Ryuunosuke murmured against his hair.
“Mm, no,” Atsushi smiled, rubbing his thumb over the silver band on Ryuunosuke’s finger; it matched his own. “Are you?”
Ryuunosuke grunted. “Only that you’ll step on my feet again.”
Snorting, Atsushi gently smacked his elbow. “Come now, I’m not that bad anymore, am I, Ryuu?”
“I suppose you’re decent enough, now,” Ryuunosuke said, kissing the back of his neck. “I taught you well.”
“You did.” Turning around in his hold, Atsushi cupped Ryuunosuke’s face and kissed him sweetly. “Thank you, Ryuu.”
Thank you.. For everything .
As they clasped hands, matching rings glinting in the sunlight, Yuu and Shinji ran up to Atsushi, begging the older man to play with them. The other three children followed suit and Odasaku watched them chase each other around the gardens, cajoling a laughing Atsushi and awkward Ryuunosuke into joining them.
From the corner of his eye, as the children played hide and seek, Atsushi saw a man with a large hat and devious brown eyes joining Odasaku, talking quietly together, their hands linked under the railing of the balcony Odasaku stood on. The man offered Atsushi a grin and a wink before he disappeared with Odasaku inside, holding onto the Prince’s arm. Atsushi smiled back.
When Ryuunosuke returned to his side, he laced their fingers together.
The Cat in the Ashes needed no more wishes.