Chapter Text
When Rui’s body goes limp and his head slumps forward, Tsukasa reacts on instinct. His grip loosens, fingers uncurling from Rui’s neck without thought. The purple-red imprints of his fingers stand out vividly against Rui’s pale skin, evidence of the struggle that just unfolded. Kamishiro’s lifeless form collapses backward onto the bed, limbs sprawled as if discarded.
Tsukasa’s breath catches in his throat, sharp and shallow. He stares at Rui, his mind racing.
“….” A shaky sigh escapes his lips, but it’s not relief. Is he dead? He shouldn’t be. Asphyxiation doesn’t work that quickly, does it? The logical part of Tsukasa’s brain reminds him that Rui could still be alive, barely hanging on.
He should… he should finish the job. End it now, before there’s any chance for reprisal.
But his hands don’t move back to Rui’s throat. Instead, they drift upward, hesitant and trembling. His gaze falls on Rui’s earring, a delicate tassel hanging from his ear. The intricate design glints faintly in the dim light of the room. It’s beautiful. Fragile. Almost out of place on someone like Rui. Tsukasa reaches out and touches it lightly, as though testing its reality. His fingers play with the tassel for a moment before he gently removes it, sliding it free from Rui’s ear.
“It’d be a shame,” Tsukasa mutters under his breath, voice barely audible, “if a dead man wore something this pretty to the grave.” He pockets the earring, a strange sense of satisfaction mingling with his unease.
His gaze returns to Rui’s face. He looks dead. Too still. Too quiet. Tsukasa’s breath hitches again as the weight of his actions begins to settle. He knows what he must do. His body moves almost mechanically as he climbs onto the bed, his knees sinking into the disheveled sheets. The rich fabric of Rui’s kimono is rumpled and askew, a mockery of its former elegance. Tsukasa’s hands hover over Rui’s neck, trembling uncontrollably.
Why are his hands shaking?
Before he can press down, a sharp knock breaks the suffocating silence. The sound startles him, and his heart leaps into his throat. Panic floods his veins.
“Rui? Why didn’t you greet me~?” A cheerful, singsong voice calls out from behind the door.
Tsukasa freezes. Akiyama. The lowly seamstress. The nuisance who always seems to disrupt his plans. His mind races. Can he reposition Rui? Make it look like he’s just sleeping. No, there’s no time—
“I’m letting myself in!”
The door creaks open, and Tsukasa’s eyes snap toward it like a cornered animal. For a brief moment, their gazes meet. Akiyama’s cheerful expression vanishes, replaced by a look of sheer horror. Her eyes widen, and she stares at him as though he’s a monster.
Tsukasa doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His hands hover ominously over Rui’s neck, a silent threat meant to keep her silent and frozen in fear. A silent threat, ‘Don’t try anything or I will kill him.’
But it doesn’t work. Akiyama’s scream shatters the tense standoff, piercing and loud. She stumbles back, her voice rising in panic as she calls for the guards. The sound reverberates through the halls and Tsukasa’s composure crumbles.
It’s over.
His mind spirals as her cries grow louder, summoning help. He’s caught. He’s failed. What now? If the guards capture him, they’ll interrogate him, and extract every piece of information they can. His only option is…
His hands, still trembling, leave Rui’s neck and move to his own. He tightens his grip around his throat, preparing to end it all.
“Isn’t this romantic, Rui?” he thinks with irony, glancing at his body next to him.
“Dying together. It’s just the sort of ridiculous thing you’d like.”
But he doesn’t get the chance. The door bursts open, and a flood of guards swarm the room. Strong hands grab him, yanking him away from the bed. Tsukasa fights back, kicking and thrashing, but it’s no use. They overpower him with ease, pinning him to the ground as voices shout commands above him. He barely registers their words, his mind too clouded with failure and despair.
Through the chaos, he hears the gasps and murmurs of onlookers. Women scream, and someone shouts orders. He feels a sharp blow to his head, and then he’s being dragged away. His body moves without his consent, hauled like a sack of grain. The world blurs around him until he’s thrown into a dark, cramped space. The air is stale, the floor rough beneath him. As the ground begins to move, he realizes he’s in a carriage.
Emu sits across from him, her eyes cold and condemning.
“It’s your fault,” she says flatly.
Tsukasa barely processes her words. His head hangs low, his body too exhausted to react.
“You failed,” she continues. “But the Amakakeru Empire will prosper anyway. They’ll achieve their goals anyway. The tactician is out of the picture for now.”
“…Emu,” Tsukasa rasps, his voice raw and broken. He blinks at her and tries to concentrate on her face.
“…Just shut up,” he snaps.
His vision darkens, and the last thing he hears is the faint rumble of the carriage wheels.
When Tsukasa wakes, the world is suffocatingly still. The ground is hard and hurts his side. He forces his eyes open, blinking against the dim light.
He’s in a cell. The air is heavy and stale, pressing down on him like a weight. The walls are bare, the ground cold and filthy beneath him. He shifts, and his skin crawls at the thought of bugs skittering nearby.
The outer layer of his kimono is gone, leaving him in a simple shirt and shorts. His hand moves to his ear instinctively, and he’s surprised to find the earring still there. A small, bitter smile tugs at his lips. At least they didn’t take that from him. His stomach growls, sharp and painful.
Time passes in a blur, marked only by the gnawing ache of hunger. Has it been hours, days, weeks? Eventually, the heavy step of a soldier appears. The sound of a sliding peephole draws Tsukasa’s attention, and a pair of unfamiliar eyes peer through.
“You’re awake,” the man says. His tone is curt, almost boring. “It’s been seven nights since your people tried attacking us.”
Tried. Tsukasa’s lips curl into a faint, humorless smile. Of course, they failed. It was inevitable. The Amakakeru Empire’s military power was no match for the Shen’s might. Taking out their tactician had been a desperate, doomed plan.
“A trial about you and the other spies is still in process,” the soldier continues. “If it were up to me, I’d kill you all immediately. But alas.”
Tsukasa doesn’t respond. His silence earns a disdainful click of the soldier’s tongue. A plate of food is shoved through a slot, the metallic clang echoing in the cell. The soldier leaves without another word.
Tsukasa stares at the plate. The food looks barely edible, a sludgy, unappetizing mess.
But hunger wins out. He picks up the plate and forces himself to eat. He devours it like it’s the best food he ever tasted. He momentarily thinks about how well he was fed in Kamishiro’s court.
Tsukasa's stomach churned as the last bite of the miserable meal slid down his throat. The silence in the cell pressed against him, an oppressive weight. The faint echo of footsteps above perhaps in a nearby corridor-kept him tethered to his unease. Every sound felt amplified, every shadow on the walls danced like a taunt.
He leaned back against the damp, cold wall and exhaled shakily. His fingers brushed against the earring still in his ear. That small, fragile thing had somehow survived everything, and yet he had not.
He closed his eyes, trying to steady his thoughts.
How long had it been since he had felt anything other than the gnawing hunger, the suffocating guilt, or the sting of failure? His body ached, a dull reminder of the skirmish that had led him here. But it wasn't just his body that hurt. The defeat festered inside him like a wound, deeper and more vicious than the blows he'd endured. He wishes he could just die. He prayed for his family’s health and well-being and passed out.
The next day after getting fed, he was tied up and brought to an interrogation room. Whoever the soldiers were, they screamed in his face with spit almost flying onto him. They banged on the table and threatened him with death, yet he remained quiet and didn’t say anything. He’s no traitor.
He got hit a few times, but whenever he did, another soldier would remind the others that, the ‘boss said violence isn’t allowed.’
“Everyone breaks eventually. You will too.”
He didn’t.
It’s been a few weeks, he thinks. He occasionally gets interrogated and threatened, but he’s still alive. He recently asked what was the state of his trial, and all he got was that it was still in progress with the diplomats from the Amakakeru empire.
The sound of keys jingling snapped him out of his daze. He stiffened on the floor as the door to his cell groaned open.
If he pretends to be asleep will they leave him alone? However, bright light spilled into the room making him flinch as his eyes weren’t used to it. A figure stepped inside holding a lantern, their silhouette tall and scary. He winced at the embrace.
It wasn't just a soldier. No, the way they moved was calculated but slightly sloppy, showing them being a different kind of authority. Maybe an executioner to finally end this?
“Are you awake?”
Oh fuck. This couldn’t be any worse now. The ever-familiar voice stepped closer to him and brought the light closer to him as he tried his best to pretend to be asleep. His voice was smooth as always, but the disgustingly warm tone was gone. He didn’t wait for a response and crouched down to meet his eye level.
“…There you are.”
Tsukasa’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. It would feel weird if he said anything now after a month of silence with him. He met his gaze, forcing himself to be steady and brave, though his trembling fingers betrayed him. It was just cold here.
“You look much smaller than you used to… Are they not feeding you?”, his hand casually reaches out to his face and ears, making him flinch. What is this, some kind of torturing way to make him feel ashamed? He slaps his hand away and glares at him.
Rui titled his head as if he was studying him. His facial expression got cold and he stood up.
“I’m responsible for deciding if you live or die.”, his precise voice echoed through the cell and Tsukasa looked away.
“Let me make this clear, wife.”, Tsukasa’s eye twitches at that name. “Amakakeru is finished. Your people are scattered, leaderless, and pathetic. Whatever pitiful and laughable plan to bring us to our knees you had failed and backfired worse than ever.”
Tsukasa wishes he finished the job.
“Your father.. if he even is… ran away and is in hiding. Your ‘lady-in-waiting’ was spared from death, but she’s doing dirty work now.”
His hands automatically raised to cover your ears.
“But your offenses are worse, you won’t be let go off the hook so easily.” Rui crouched down again, uncomfortably leaning in his face so Tsukasa felt his breath in his face. Rui was trying to peer pressure him.
“You can kill me now,”, he finally speaks, voice low and raspy. “I have… nothing to say to you.”
Rui chucked softly, mocking him. Tsukasa’s arms shook as his wish to punch his handsome face grew. “Oh, I’m not going to kill you. Not yet.”
He stood and signaled someone outside the cell with his arms. “Take him into interrogation. No violence.”
Soldiers seized him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. He wobbled, weak from hunger, and whatever mushy porridge he ate threatened to spill out, but he was forced to stand straight.
“Let’s talk a lot, Tsukasa.”
Rui smiled at him.