Chapter Text
You were nine when you realized that death was not only going to be a constant in your life, but that you were also going to be the one dealing in it.
Baptiste didn’t deny it when you asked him. He only stared you down with that lopsided smile, prodding you to go on.
“I want to start with those guys that killed Papa and Oton.”
“Interested in revenge, ma pouce?”
You shrugged. It only seemed fair. For all the pain they had caused, they should get some in return. Wasn’t that the justice you were supposed to live by?
“That’s fair. Righteous anger. Hold onto that feeling. It will come in handy.”
It did, eventually. You were thirteen, and the smell of the Fleuve Cendre still stung your nostrils. Even more so with your head held underwater.
You did not struggle, knowing that would make the air end faster. Even so, it was hard to control your heartbeat, frantic and depleting the oxygen at a worrying rate. A misstep while trailing one of Baptiste’s debtors, it was all it had taken. A mistake you vowed not to repeat if only you could keep breathing.
The sound was muffled underwater, but you knew what it was when the grip on your head went slack. You whipped your head back, gasping for air. The scent of gunpowder hit you, as did Sylvain’s voice, yelling and berating you with words you would contest later. For now, another sound commanded your attention.
The man writhed on the ground, fillets of crimson cascading between the fingers gripping his arm. He stared at you, hovering above him, and made a pathetic attempt to spit in your direction. A dagger was out before he could finish. You expected to feel more resistance from the flesh, but it no different from how you had practiced. Another thing you were good at, just like Baptiste had predicted.
Too easy.
It could not end so quickly. Your throat still grated, the pain still too much. He should not have been able to go so quickly.
Your dagger came down once again, perforating his chest. There was no last spasm, no agonizing cries. You did it again. Again. Again. Watching the red spill onto your clothes, your face, until it obscured your entire vision. Waiting for the pain to lift, only for it to grow. Only stopping when Sylvain tackled you down.
Someone called out your name.
No, not your name, Hitomi’s name. The name you should answer to, but that was not the time. The one you were looking for wouldn’t be using that name, not that you could tell whose voice it was. Or if they had been calling you at all. The world was muffled, and all you could hear clearly were your own thoughts. It did not help that they were screaming.
Something blue moved by the corner of your eye. Your hand shot out without second thought, only to be answered by a shrill from the old man whose sleeve you had grabbed. You hastily mumbled something that may have been an apology, but the words did not stay in your mind for long. They were not important.
Your eyes shifted back and forth across faces, masks, trees. Sylvain could not have left the island. You would have seen him (would you?). There were not many lights illuminating the path back to Narukami, but, still, it would have been easy to spot a darker figure treading the sand (it would, wouldn’t it?). He could not have gone far. You had run after him immediately.
(Ha. Right.)
No, not immediately. You had said something to Thoma first. An excuse. You had said- no. You could deal with that later. You were in danger – Thoma was in danger unless you could find Sylvain. You would tell him that everything was going according to plan, that you were getting closer, getting them to trust you more. Even more, yes, because what you had before was clearly not enough.
Your body swayed, and it was only seconds later that you registered the impact against your shoulder. Your vision spun and continued to spin as you searched for the culprit, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Faces melted into one another, and yet you could feel more than a few shooting curious looks your way. You clenched your fists, alert for any sign of blue and gold, because that was all you needed to discern. Blue. Gold.
“If it was all part of the plan, why are you so anxious to catch me, marmotte?”
Because he needed to be let into the plan, naturally. So he would not do anything stupid.
“Like kill your puppy?”
Yes. No. No, that shouldn’t matter if your head were still in the mission. You could not afford to slip up. He would know no matter what you told him. You had to find him, you had to-
Someone grabbed your shoulder. In one graceful sweep, your dagger was out and pressed against the assailant’s throat. Yoimiya’s eyes widened.
You pulled the dagger back. The world became both quieter and louder at once asyou’re your mind blanked and hubbub of the festival slowly trickled into your ears. Sylvian was not there. Of course not. There were only amber eyes staring at you in horror.
You took a step back, but Yoimiya’s hands shot out and pinned you in place by the shoulders. They rose to your face, feeling your cheeks, your forehead, while her mouth moved. You blinked hard, trying to hear her.
“Hitomi. Hey. You don’t look good. What are you feeling?”
You raised your hands, trying to break free from hers. Time was still running, and you could not afford to waste it.
“Nothing. I need to go.”
“What? Wait, I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
Despite the harshness of your tone, Yoimiya did not flinch. Her fingers intertwined with yours before you could stop her.
“Hey. Breathe.”
“I am breathi-”
“Hitomi.”
You wished she would stop saying that name. That cursed name of a girl long dead who would never know how you had tainted it. But you needed to obey the call, and so you inhaled, held in the air for a couple of seconds, and breathed out through your mouth. It did not help, not that you had any expectations otherwise.
“Come on. I’ve already told Ayaka you were not feeling well.”
Ayaka. Archons, what if she had seen you? What if Sylvain had gotten to her? No, he wouldn’t, that was not part of the plan. Kissing Thoma had not been part of the plan either. There was no plan anymore, and no telling what he could do. You needed to find him.
Dirt and sand blurred together with each step. Though your head whipped in every direction, looking for any hint of your target, you could barely make out your surroundings. The distant hum of the waves, the lights fading and coming to life again, the sounds from below that shifted from a rustle to a steady tap. You registered each change without making sense of it.
It was only when the pressure on your wrist faded that you realized it had been there at all, tugging you along. The silence of the city crashed around you, interrupted only by the soft clicks as Yoimiya opened the door to her house. Your knees bent, prepared to bolt, but an invisible weight kept you in place. It only lifted when Yoimiya took your wrist again, pulling you into the house.
“Dad’s a heavy sleeper, as you can imagine, so don’t worry about him. I can make some tea, let’s see what I have… Uh- no, Hitomi, wait!”
She grabbed you again before you reached the door. It was difficult to tell which of you was more startled.
“What’s going on? Did something happen with you and Thoma?”
They came in flashes, much too quickly for you to stop. His confusion when you had gotten up. You shouldn’t have done that, and you shouldn’t have said that out loud, but you had. The place where he had grabbed your arm had scorched, and you had shoved him away. Archons, you had-
“Hitomi!”
“Fuck, just stop calling me that!”
Finally, finally, Yoimiya paused. And in that half second of respite, her expression shifted into one of unadulterated puzzlement.
“Uh. Alright then. What do you want me to call you?”
The silence did not fall, it simply appeared, as if someone had flickered a switch. It settled there for a moment, hanging between your unblinking stares. And then the tingling started. Light and irritating, something at the far back of your throat that you tried to swallow. Growing and growing. Until it burst, all at once.
A laughter like you had never heard from your own lungs before. A rackety, ugly sound that invaded the space, tainting every corner of the room. You shut your eyes tight, hoping that would help with your mouth, but the noise continued.
“Archons, you really are stupid.”
The laughter ended abruptly. You could not tell when those words had escaped you. Or why.
Your eyes snapped open, finding Yoimiya unmovable in front of you. A frown had taken over her face.
“Tell me what happened. We can figure this out.”
“Figure this out? You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Hitomi, talk to me-”
“Do you want to figure out how I’ve been lying to you from the moment we’ve met? That I had to force myself to listen to your rambling and your jokes just so I could take advantage of you? Because it’s been almost a year and you haven’t figured anything out!”
“What? No, what-” Yoimiya rose a hand to her chest. “What are you talking about? You didn’t take advantage of me we’re friends!”
“We’re not! We’re not, we’ve never been. I just needed you to get close to the Kamisatos. To find out their secrets and sell them out. So I could get out of this damned country and back to Fontaine, back to my stupid life where I can just be alone!”
That last word was a hoarse scream ringing in your ears. Despite having gotten rid of so much at once, your chest felt heavier than ever. Heavier still when you lifted your eyes to Yoimiya.
You had never imagined she could make that kind of expression. The hands clasped in front of her like a shield, the quivering lips, the tear-brimmed eyes. The silence from the woman who was as loud as the lights she launched into the sky. You had done that. You had done so many things.
For the first time in days, the fog in your mind lifted and you could see exactly where the two paths ahead of you converged. For all you had fought throughout the years, it seemed that fate had never intended for you to escape Inazuma.
“You’re in danger.” Your breath was shaky as you inhaled and forced yourself to look into Yoimiya’s eyes. “I put you all in danger.”
You turned your back to Yoimiya and put your hand on the doorknob. An anonymous note to the Tenryou Commission would not be enough to deter the Croque-mitaines, but it would at least launch an investigation into the Takatsukasas. With the peace agreement with Sangonomiya looming closer each day, it would be too risky for them to insist on the job. The Croque-mitaines would be called off, and you would be on the run. As you had always meant to be. Alone.
A sudden blow at your back had the air leaving your lungs and your stomach hitting the floor. You scrambled to get up, but only managed to prop yourself in your elbows before Yoimiya straddled your hips and pushed you down. Tears flowed wildly down her cheeks.
“You’re lying!”
You gritted your teeth. “Yes, that’s what I’m telling you! I’ve been lying to you all the time!”
“No, you’re lying to yourself!”
You tried to shove Yoimiya off, but she only pressed you back harder. She lowered her head until the only place you could look at was the light amber of her eyes.
“You care about me! If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have continued to hang out with me after you got the job with the Kamisatos. And you care about them too! About Thoma, and Ayaka, and Itto, and Shinobu- all of us! You- you’re our friend!”
“I was spying on you!” you retorted, wiggling fruitlessly in Yoimiya’s grasp. “It’s called blending in!”
“Bullshit! You risked your life telling me about Tartaglia and then confronting him!”
“Well, yeah? I lied about that too!”
“No, you didn’t! He came to talk to me after and apologized for almost killing you!”
Tartaglia might have let you live, but he certainly was not making that life easy.
“Just admit it!” Yoimiya shouted, grabbing your shoulders. “It may have started as a lie, but you became our friend for real.”
“That’s not-”
“You cooked for me. And you helped me with the fireworks so many times.”
“Yoimiya, no-”
“You even helped me with Ayaka! And you helped her, and you always listened to her and made sure she was happy. And Thoma! You helped him with the death of his mother, you made him a garden! You did it because you love him- you love us!”
A thousand denials flew up your throat, but they would not come out. Every word from Yoimiya was accompanied by a squeeze in your chest, a burning so painful you just wanted her to stop. You wanted to beg her to stop. Maybe you did so, amidst the incoherent sobs that shook your shoulders.
“I put you in danger,” you croaked, throat straining to form comprehensible words. “I’m putting you in even more danger now.”
“I can handle danger! We all can! If we put our heads together- how do you think we got through the Vision Hunt Decree?”
The Vision Hunt Decree did not hide in the shadows. “You don’t know them. My contact in Inazuma, he’s been colluding with the Shugosha. He will not hesitate to kill you.”
“All the more reason why we need to plan this together! Ayaka is good at this. We can go to the estate in the morning and you tell them-”
“Tell them what, Yoimiya?” you spat. “That they have been letting a mercenary sleep over their roof for months? That I abused their trust and led them to their ruin? Better to just take me to the Tenryou Commission already.”
The blonde frowned. “No one is taking you to the Tenryou Commission. We’ll help you.”
“You don’t want to help me!” Exasperation flooded your voice, the urge to scream growing the harder Yoimiya held you down. “I’ve lied and manipulated you! I’ve killed so many people – I spent my entire life doing that! You have no reason to help me!”
“Yes, we do.” Confidence crept back into Yoimiya’s voice. You would have thought you had imagined it, had it not been for the way her lips parted into a grin. “Because you are our friend. And friends help each other. I don’t know what you’ve done back in Fontaine, but I know what you have done here. You’ve been good to us, and you’re risking yourself telling me all this. I know you want to do better. So trust me when I say this: me, Thoma, the Kamisatos, the Arataki Gang – we’re going to help you do just that.”
She did not understand the situation. Yoimiya was a creature of the light, she could never fathom the kinds of schemes the Croque-mitaines could come up with – that you could come up with. That you had. The moment she realized it, she would turn away, as she should. There were so many ‘should’s that Yoimiya simply ignored, as if she could bend the world to her will by the sheer force of her smile. She should not have been holding you like that. Should not have lifted you from the floor and gathered you in her arms. Should not have wiped away the wetness clinging to your tears.
“You are my best friend,” Yoimiya said calmly. “I love you.”
You bit your lips as another sob tried to escape. “You don’t even know my real name.”
“Well, not the first time it happens. Doesn’t change anything.”
Every cell in your brain screamed for you to run. To erase the words from your memory, bury them deep so the future broken promise could not harm you.
Instead, you said, “I love you, Yoi.”
She continued to hold you for a small eternity, guiding your head to her shoulder and keeping you warm as the tears flowed. Through the whispered apologies you dropped, she only embraced you tighter and ran a hand across the back of your neck. She stayed.
When your eyes were dry and your knees hurt more than you could ignore, only then did Yoimiya lean back to properly look at you. With her head cocked to the side and lips barely holding back a grin, she asked, “Seriously, though, what is your name?”
The shops had not yet opened when you left a sachet at the Hanamizaka shrine the following morning. In four days, you would meet. Yoimiya had shifted uneasily at the deadline, even though you had explained that hurry would only make you sound guilty. No, Sylvain had to think that you were calm and ready to talk to him at your own pace.
She had wanted to walk back to the Kamisato Estate with you, but that was out of the question as well. Though she had claimed to understand your reasoning, it was clear from the way she insisted on chewing her lip that Yoimiya was uncomfortable with the plan. At least she did not try to dissuade you from it.
She was a kinder soul than you deserved. You did not doubt that others were the same, but you knew that they were much more used to navigating those sorts of intrigues. Laying yourself bare before the Kamisatos without a bargaining chip would land you in the Tenryou Commission’s cells at record speed. That, if Ayato did not decide the Shuumatsuban would be more efficient. You tried not to dwell on that possibility.
You needed concrete information on the Croque-mitaines’ next steps. To guide them and lay a trap which the Kamisatos could then close and obtain total victory. It would take several months, if not years, for Baptiste to recover from the loss of his two most qualified employees. It was still risky, but you had no better idea. Looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life was not much different from the future you had already been promised under Baptiste’s tutelage, and if anyone knew how to build a new persona, it was you. All you had to do was to take the opportunity before your utility to the Kamisatos expired. Because at some point it would and, if you did not disappear before then, a life sentence would be the kindest option you would get.
Always think five steps ahead. The Croque-mitaine had spent years trying to impress that on you. You could only hope he had succeeded.
It was Hirano that welcomed you at the gates. He did not ask where you were coming from, and you were determined to enjoy all the small blessings you could get before you had to face the consequences of your actions. The second small blessing was Furuta. She took you directly to Ayaka’s study, where the Shirasagi Himegimi apologized for not heeding your warnings about your health the previous evening and insisted that you took the day off to rest. Apparently Thoma had not told her of how you had left him.
That, you were not sure was a blessing. Thoma was nowhere in sight.
“He said he had some errands to run in Ritou. I am not certain he will be back tonight,” Ayaka told you without your asking.
It could be true. You doubted it.
The camellias did little to settle your mind, but at least they kept your hands busy. As did all the flowers around the garden, including the ones that were clearly bothered by your stirring and pruning. You halted when you got to the windwheel asters. You pushed down the queasiness rumbling in your stomach and kneeled to check the soil.
It had not been hard to work out what you needed to say to Thoma. Apologies. Lies. Nothing you had not done before. What was hard was to imagine his reaction. The disappointment when he saw you, the pained efforts to be understanding and accept your empty justifications. Your twisted honeyed words would not be enough this time – he would see the depth of your lies, even if he would not be able to understand everything. But he would soon. And then he would never entertain another word from you again.
For a moment, you wished you had accepted Yoimiya’s company. Wrapped in her arms, it was so much easier to imagine a different outcome. A selfish one. You had enough self-awareness not to label it as kinder, not when you knew that no one but you would benefit from it. Perhaps that had also been a reason for insisting on returning to the estate alone, to avoid getting caught up in illusions.
You were back in the garden when night fell and all but the guards had retired. Ayaka had insisted you sit down with her for dinner, and then for another hour of perusing that befuddling poetry book of hers. You had hung onto her every word. But when that had come to an end, you found you did not want to go to your room, where the silence was bound to suffocate you. At least outside the chilly wind would sometimes disrupt your thoughts. It was almost peaceful, even if the windchime blared with something that sounded more like an omen than music.
You wished you could have blamed the windchime but, in truth, you had heard the footsteps. You knew who they belonged to. And still, you waited, breath bated and heart hanging on to a slim thread of hope that your paranoia was making you hear things. Of course it was not.
“Hitomi, can we talk?”
Your jaw clenched as you turned to Thoma. There was no mistaking the tension in his stance, back straightened and a hand hiding in his pocket. But his expression was controlled. No nervousness, anger, or sorrow. Not yet, at least. Only an anticipation that did not dim as you nodded.
He sat down on the grass beside you. The invisible line between the two of you was thinner than you would have expected; if he swayed just a little, your shoulders could have bumped. But he never did. He did not look at you either, eyes fixed ahead on the valberries. There were only a few now, and they would all be gone by the time winter truly arrived.
You swallowed, gathering courage to say the words you had rehearsed throughout the day.
“I’m sorry.”
You startled, and Thoma’s eyes locked onto yours. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “if I pushed you into something you were not ready for. But I want to know what is bothering you and I want to help.”
You breathed in, struggling to comprehend those words in that order. “You’re so- No, Thoma, I am the one who has to apologize. I was nervous, but it wasn’t anything you did-”
He held a hand up, and you quieted immediately. A few seconds passed in which he simply stared at you. You knew what he was searching for, and it only made your jaw lock more tightly.
“I should not have pressured you before talking things through. I know you are concerned about issues from your past in Fontaine, and I want to help.”
The windchime matched the sirens going off in your brain. Nothing in that conversation was going like you had planned, and Thoma had just thrown you into a dangerous path.
“I don’t,” you spoke slowly, suddenly aware of the weight of your tongue, “know what you are talking about.”
“You’ve talked about not being a good person. And about the things you’ve done for the man who took you in in Fontaine. I know this is weighing on you and, Hitomi, I meant what I said when I told you I won’t leave. Let me help you.”
Your fists clenched, pulling out a chunk of grass from the ground. You had not forgotten those words of his, in that very same garden, in another chilly night. But they were that, just words.
“That has nothing to do with me leaving last night.”
At last, a frown crept into Thoma’s face, and a hint of uncertainty shone in his eyes. It was a small victory, but it still made your stomach turn. “Then why did you?”
You hesitated, wetting your lips and pretending to search for the right words. “I was nervous. When I realized what I was doing – I mean, Thoma, we work together. That… complicates things.”
You watched as the frown deepened and the corners of Thoma’s lips curved downwards. You immediately knew that was not the expression you had been aiming at.
“Hitomi, please don’t lie.”
“Well, please don’t presume I’m lying.”
“You were terrified. In a split second, something serious happened, much more serious than worrying about our professional relationship.”
“You don’t know that,” you retorted. The bald patches around you grew. “I guess I’m just a jerk when it comes to these things.”
“You are not.”
His tone was hard, confident. The blades of grass slipped from the cracks between your fingers as if trying to escape suffocation.
“You can’t say that, you don’t even know me!”
“I do know-”
“No, Thoma, you don’t! If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. You would know it’s not worth it.”
“I know enough,” he insisted, somehow keeping his voice in a steady volume as yours only rose. “I know you push people away because you are afraid they will turn their back on you. I know your foster father made you think he was the only one who could accept you, but that’s not true.”
Your nose tingled with the phantom pain of a slamming door. Baptiste had insisted on taking you to the doctor after you told him. Then he had taken you around the Court of Fontaine and let you choose what you wanted to decorate your room. He let you name him the Croque-mitaine.
Thoma was not talking about Baptiste. His view was skewed, based on a string of lies you had fed him yourself to make you seem more sympathetic. What Thoma knew was a fictional character, not Baptiste.
“He used you.”
Even if you kept seeing his face as Thoma spoke.
“He didn’t.”
“Hitomi–”
“I did it because I wanted to, alright? Every dirty job, every lie, everything! I did it to feel I could do something right, even if it meant hurting people. I liked it. So there! I’m not some kind of helpless victim, Thoma.”
You finally unclenched your fists and pressed your palms onto the ground to get up, only to be stopped by Thoma’s grip on your wrist. It was not the light touch you had grown used to, but something firmer, even if careful. You glared at him, yanked your arm, but he did not relent. If anything, a new fierceness shone in his eyes, a fire that was able to leave your mouth dry even then.
“Do you think I don’t have any idea of what you’ve done? Let me guess. Killed? Kidnapped some merchant, poisoned wine barrels? It’s not hard to imagine from the way you fight. Yes, you’ve done all of that for someone who convinced you he was worth it. But this is not all you’ve done, is it?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that could shield you from Thoma’s words. “You willingly left Fontaine and all that life behind.”
He did not know. He did not know what you had truly set out to do in Inazuma, that you were meant to destroy all the people he cared about. The lies you had told Yoimiya could not compare to what you had done to Thoma.
“You chose to serve the Kamisatos. You’ve been doing good since you came to Inazuma, despite all the pain this country has caused you.”
Bile and words boiled at the back of your throat, and you gritted your teeth to stop them from spilling. A tug on your wrist pulled you closer, and his voice became louder.
“You’ve changed. And if you really were proud of all you’ve done before, you would not be trying so hard to convince yourself that you do not deserve to be cared for.”
You kept shaking your head, trying to displace the hand that threatened to rest on your cheek. Soon the grip on your wrist disappeared. Warmth cradled your face, tender and inviting. It did not rush you, even as you bit your lips and tried to quell the flutter in you stomach, even as you felt wet trails running down your cheeks. You opened your eyes.
The fire was not gone. It just burned differently. Not unfamiliar, though – you realized you had seen it so many other nights, that shimmer of green burning away your walls until it settled upon you. A blanket – a shield. A promise that went beyond words.
Thoma held your gaze, inhaling and exhaling slowly, lulling you into a mesmerizing rhythm. His breath ghosted over your nose as he finally spoke.
“I see you, Hitomi. The good and the bad parts. And I care about you, all of you. So whatever you need to do to come to terms with your past, I will help you. Whatever you’ve done, I won’t leave.”
And maybe it was the remnants of Yoimiya’s voice from the previous night. Maybe it was the exhaustion carefully cultivated over the years finally finding a crack through which to flow away. Or it was simply hope.
Thoma had defied your calculations from the start. His persistence and shrewdness, his unwavering loyalty, that you had accounted for. But not his compassion. How he might be willing to extend an ounce of that loyalty to other people. Or that you yourself would be chasing it, chasing him, the chance of laying down and closing your eyes knowing that you could choose to open them again whenever you wished. That you were safe. You wanted to keep that feeling. Even if the chance was small, even if it went against all you had been taught. Even if it failed. Perhaps for the first time, that craving was greater than your fear.
“You promise?”
“I do. I promise.”
You met each other where you usually did: halfway. Slowly, dipping a toe first, gauging each other’s reaction. And then all at once crumbled the walls, the armor, anything that dared to stand between you. Until it was only Thoma’s lips onto yours, and your hand in his hair, his hand on your back, you heart in his chest.
You had been a damn fool to think you could have abandoned that without a fight. That you were not tired of running.
“I’ll tell you everything,” you breathed, pulling apart the minimum necessary to speak. “There’s just something I need to do first. In less than a week, I’ll tell you everything.”
His thumb drew circles around your cheek, and you were drawn to that gentle pressure. “Hitomi, don’t do anything in a rush. I’ll still be here.”
“Less thank a week.” There was no time to waste. If only so he could stop using that name.
Thoma shook his head, but the gleam in his eyes was affectionate. “So stubborn.”
“Strong-willed, you mean.”
His laugh reverberated across her bones as he tightened his embrace. You exhaled, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder, on that little dip that seemed to have been made just to fit you. Or maybe Thoma had just molded it so. Carved the perfect space for you in his life and waited for you to settle.
“I don’t want to make this harder, but… I really don’t want to let you go right now.”
Neither did you. Not after tiptoeing around the edge of that cliff for so long. Just for that night, you wanted to jump.
You did, and he caught you. Guided you through the hallways and quietly asked if you were sure before opening the door. Smiled when your answer was to go inside first. And through all your eagerness, Thoma held you and whispered that he wanted to take his time. To unwrap you like a gift, explore every little part of you, figure out how to draw each kind of sound from you.
You let him. Bared yourself before him in ways you never had before, trusted him as he moved, stole your own touches when he was distracted, and reveled in the way he melted against you. He loosened you up with each touch of his lips, gripped you firmly, never letting you forget that he was here, that you were safe, that you had nothing to hide. And you hid nothing – not your smiles, whimpers, or the burning in your core. For the first time in years, you simply allowed yourself to be loved. And to love.
There was a liminal space between sleep and consciousness, and that was where you were. On the one hand, you were aware of the mattress at your back, the soft covers draping around you, and the first rays of morning light seeping through the window shutters. On the other, this gang of bake-danuki was trying to steal your bulle fruit and you seemed incapable of lifting the giant hammer to hit them. You wanted to snuggle more against the pillow, but you also did not want the bake-danuki to get away.
This tough choice was settled by the dip in the mattress beside you. Any thoughts and memories of the bake-danuki dissipated as you shot your arm out and grabbed a wirst.
Through your still drooping eyelids, you saw Thoma’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Dnnghrmrm go,” you groaned against the pillow.
Thoma chuckled and discarded the black shirt on his hand, leaning back onto the bed instead. He kissed your forehead. “Gutten tag, Schatz.”
You did not reply, contenting yourself with pulling him closer.
“I have to prepare breakfast,” he protested weakly, unable to hide a smile as you wrapped your arms around his torso.
“I’ll do it. In five minutes.”
“I could bring you breakfast in bed.”
“I will bite your eyeballs out if you try to walk out of here.”
Your arms shook as Thoma’s laughter reverberated across his ribcage.
“That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Shut up. I’m always romantic,” you snapped, immediately realizing the falsehood of that affirmation. Especially since the night had come to an end.
“Thoma.” He must have caught the shift in your tone and was quick to intervene with a peck on your lips. You swallowed, struggling to pick among the mesh of words that were stuck in your throat. Which was extremely hard as Thoma twirled a lock of your hair around his finger.
“I know. It was just one night, you still have something to take care of. But I meant what I said, Hitomi. I will be by your side and help you however I can. So, for now, what can I do?”
You breathed in deeply, as if the extra air could cushion the stab of your next words. “Just wait. I’ll do it quickly, I just need you to wait a few days.”
Thoma nodded, like he had already been expecting that answer. He probably had. “I will be here. I promise.”
The tendrils of anxiety creeping at your back did not vanish, but they did halt. That was the power Thoma held over you. Enough to make you believe in fantasies, to risk so much for a small chance that his presence in your life would continue. He made sure it did, for five more minutes. Time would never be enough, but you had learned to take as much of it as you could.
Sylvain’s reply came in two days instead of four, and in the form of a person instead of a ribbon. You did not like the way Anaïs was digging her nails into her arm. She spoke as soon as you were close enough to hear her whisper.
“We need to go. He’s waiting.”
You rolled your eyes and retorted, “What’s gotten him in such a hurry? Did someone spit in his coffee?”
Your false calm had no effect on Anaïs. Her head kept whipping around nervously, a reaction you had not seen since you had supervised her and Boniface’s first assignments sneaking around the Quartier Lyonnais. It was not like her to be so jittery, and you surmised Sylvain must truly be in a foul mood. At least you could prepare in advance, if only a few minutes.
Your pace was deliberately slow beside Anaïs’s, a quiet reminder for her to keep her cool. The girl forced a smile but could not keep her hand from trembling inside yours. As you squeezed it, the thought came that you would need to incorporate her into your plan. And Bo. Ayato would certainly have an idea. He would know soon enough.
Instead of a restaurant, you found yourself reaching a small shed a few blocks behind Amenoma Smithy. It belonged to one of their suppliers, and you wondered how Sylvain had decided to risk breaking into a place like that.
Anaïs rapped on the door according to the agreed code and scrambled inside as soon as it opened. You followed her, feet dragging as you took in your surroundings. All the windows were closed shut, and no source of light was available as the door closed. Still, you could make out the crates of iron and amethyst lumps piled on the sides.
The air was stuffy and distinctively salty from how close it was to the sea. Something else crackled in it, a faint energy. The hair at the back of your neck prickled. No matter how long you had been away from it, you would always recognize that current of Electro.
“Coucou, ma puce.”