Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight spilling onto Thoma’s face in the shape of a square wakes him from his slumber. Thoma squints against the brightness. Stares blearily at the shoji. Then rubs the sleep from his eye with the heel of his palm to get a clear vision.

A turf of blue peeks out of the blanket next to his futon. It moves side to side as if trying to find a comfortable spot to rest on. Then the lump of the blanket stops moving. Ah, right. His cue to get his morning started, so Thoma stretches the kinks in his body out, then rolls out of the futon. In the span of 10 minutes, Thoma has folded his futon, washed up, donned in his usual attire and been ready to face another new day.

Efficiency — an important trait of a chief retainer, drilled by Furuta herself into his brain for years. Next item on the list; breakfast.

Thoma leaves the room, quietly as not to disturb the sleeping occupant in the room. The room is separated from the main building, with a koi pond and zen garden in between for privacy. Contrast to the calm, lazy swish of the fish in the pond and the calming shrub dance, a flurry of activity flutters around the estate; some with a stack of papers in their arms, some with festival supplies, ready for another event, some armed with weapons, ready for their patrol station. Thoma greets each of them with a wide smile, thankful for their loyalty and service.

As soon as he enters the kitchen, he’s greeted by Koharu at the stove, “Good morning, Thoma-san.”

“Oh, good morning, Koharu,” he grins, “How was your sleep?”

“Sufficient, thank you. Are you going to use the stove? Allow me to clean this corner for a bit — it’s been collecting soot and dust,” she bows her head, a sign of a lower status compared to him. 

That small gesture of respect bothers Thoma a bit. He feels undeserving even though he’s aware of the reason behind it. He can’t tell her to stop, though, when the clan reputation depends on these little things.

“It’s alright. I need to prepare the ingredients anyway. Take your time, okay?”

“I’m grateful for your generosity, Thoma-san.”

Alright, that bothers him a lot. He remembers Koharu wasn’t this distant prior to this mess. He knows it was never her intention. He knows what caused her to behave ever so politely even though they’re close friends, a friendship formed under Furuta’s tutelage. Yet… he can’t chase this uneasiness away.

“Ye — yeah, I’ll just… go over there.”

Days over the week have been getting longer. The temperature has been dropping as well, so a warm breakfast would be the best choice. Ah, he remembers the brown rice, given by one of the maidens at the shrine. He can make ochazuke out of it. After a quick prayer of gratitude to the kind maiden for the rice, he starts working his magic.

42 minutes; that’s how long he took to prepare breakfast. Too much time wasted, but he has no time to mourn over it. It’s time to wake up the masters. He passes one of the trays to Koharu, carefully made for Lady Ayaka, before he carries the other two himself. Carefully but quickly, Thoma returns to the private building.

Opening the door with arms full of the trays is a difficult task, but Thoma makes do. Inside the room, the lump remains unmoving on the futon. Thoma tip toes into the room, goes over to the low table by the round window and places the trays on it so the meals can be warmed by the sunlight. Then he goes back to the futon.

“Waka,” Thoma calls softly, placing his hand on the blanket, “It’s morning. Wake up.”

His master continues snoring away.

“Waka, please wake up.”

It takes Thoma a good three-minute to get at least one purple eye cracked open. That puts a relieved smile on Thoma’s face.

“Good morning, Waka. Time to face the day.”

Probably not a great greeting since his master insists on taking his sweet time to stretch out and get his mind functioning. Thoma sighs, resigned to the fate of having another cold breakfast as he watches his master sluggishly pull himself into sitting. Blue hair sticking out in various directions, the crust in his eyes, the wrinkles in his kimono, even the stubbles across his sharp jawline; it’s difficult to digest this messy appearance on someone so respectful like Kamisato Ayato, and yet, here he is, in the flesh.

“...no, not that,” Ayato mumbles around a yawn.

“Not that what? Face the day?” Thoma blinks.

“No, not that one. It’s — ” Ayato glances at him with a lazy smile, heavy with sleep, “Waka. Not ‘Waka.’ You know this, Thoma.”

Ah, right. Thoma’s gaze falls onto his lap. Catches the glint of a ring dangling together with his dog tags. And he scratches his cheek, “Yeah, I’m sorry… Ayato.”

“Good, my dearest husband,” Ayato smiles, running long fingers across Thoma’s jaw, and Thoma can feel it, can feel Ayato’s ring brushing against his skin, cold against warm, and Thoma thinks the ring looks beautiful on Ayato.

An octagonal cut noctilucous jade, its beauty is accentuated by diamonds across the silver ring — a perfect wedding ring for someone as beautiful as Kamisato Ayato. The one was made to be adorned by someone of his status. The one was admired by many, women and men alike as they wished to have on their own finger instead.

The one Thoma didn’t buy since he could never afford it. Instead it was bought by Ayato himself to counter this mess created by the Sakoku Decree. A disguise of their beautiful love, a fiction to convince people that Thoma would do anything for his husband, even as far as getting a custom-made ring from Liyue to prove his love for him, and — and.

And Thoma wants to laugh at them all. Laughs at the spies hidden in the crooks and crevices around the estate. At the marriage documents sitting in Ayato’s office. Even at the ring on Ayato’s finger, as it’s just another painful reminder of his lower status compared to Ayato.

“I see you bring breakfast,” Ayato turns his attention to the trays, hand pulling away. That brings Thoma back to the present, blinking at Ayato as he gets to his feet, the blanket falling around his legs. He fixes his kimono, “Let me wash up first. I’ll join you in a second.”

“Be quick, or we’ll be having a cold breakfast,” Thoma wriggles his brow.

The curl of Ayato’s lips is playfully cunning when he glances over his shoulder. “I can always count on you to keep it warm for me, yes?”

Oh, Ayato can count on him for anything.

…

It goes like this; their marriage. 

Their wedding wasn’t anything romantic. Instead, it was chaotic and rushed, pressured by the Sakoku Decree. Thoma thought he’d witnessed the worst when the loss of Raiden Gokaden happened. He thought wrong, proven by the suffering of those who had their vision taken. 

He watched in horrified disbelief as one by one succumbed to numbness when their vision was stripped. He listened to the cries of those who had their loved ones taken far too early from their time. He whispered encouragement to those who had their family separated by forces, by wars, by unjustified accusations. He pulled every string in his network to help those in need, be it disguise, documentations, even secret bases, so these people could escape from the shogunate’s claws.

He did everything, anything to be of the clan’s service, to help the victims.

Until one day did come an intel from the Shuumatsuban.

“You’re on their list, Thoma.”

Ayato’s voice, even though spoken in a calm tone, rang loudly in the room at Komore Teahouse. It seemed louder in Thoma’s eardrums, though, tuning everything out, the white noise, the gasp from Ayaka, even the clang of the teacup when Ayaka placed her cup in hurry.

“This can’t be — Nii-sama, Thoma — no,” Ayaka paled.

“This is the truth, Ayaka. I saw the copy of the list. His name was definitely in it,” Ayato said grimly.

“But why? Thoma hasn’t done anything wrong — could be this, no, did someone find out what we’ve been doing?” Ayaka gasped.

Ah, that must be it. He probably had slipped somehow. His body broke in cold sweat. His fists on his lap turned clammy. His heart thundered against his ribcage. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He shouldn’t have been careless.

“I believe that wasn’t the case,” Ayato interrupted, “Hisashi would’ve picked up on it. He’s keeping an eye on them for me. I’m under the impression that something worse is happening here.”

“Which is?” Thoma snapped his gaze up to meet Ayato across the table, alarmed. No, he could never tolerate any ill intentions towards the Kamisato clan.

“My downfall, or precisely, the downfall of the Kamisato clan,” Ayato concluded, “It’s no secret that everyone is aware of our decision on the decree. Despite Tenryou’s enormous influence over the decision since they’re responsible for managing military affairs, there’s a slight chance that our petitions against the decree have stirred a small disturbance among themselves.”

“Conflict of morale?” Ayaka pitched in.

“Yes. In order to snuff out that annoyance and silence me, they decide to attack where it hits me the deepest,” and when Ayato spoke of this, he looked Thoma straight in the eyes, purple frosted by cold fury, enough to send shivers down Thoma’s spine. As if that fury was meant to enclose around Thoma, away from those intruding claws.

But no, he could fend for himself. He was hired to protect his masters, not to be protected, to be a burden for them from achieving their goals. His pyro vision glowed on his belt. Burning. Sizzling. Thoma puffed his chest out, warm with the fire of determination, “With all due respect, Waka, I can defend myself. Please do not be hindered by this small matter. My own person shouldn’t outweigh the greater good.”

Ayaka frowned, “Thoma…”

“Keep going, Waka, Oujo. For the sake of Inazuma. For the sake of people who have suffered so much. I can take care of myself, I promise.”

Ayato’s purple eyes reflected nothing. Just like a deep lake, calm on the surface but it sheltered unimaginable mysteries. Not even a twitch in his lips. His face was a blank mask. Unreadable. But Thoma sensed something sinister radiating off of his master.

Then — “No.”

“Please, Waka, think of Inazuma. Think of the suffering — ”

“I can’t lose you, Thoma.”

Such simple words, delivered in measured cadences and a firm eye contact, threw Thoma’s mind into turmoil. Wide-eyed, he stared at his master, unable to make heads nor tails of Ayato’s declaration. Surely his presence wasn’t that significant in his master’s life; he was merely a retainer.

“You’re very important — ” Ayato pulled his lips into a thin line, clearly frustrated, before he continued, schooling his expression back, “You’re important to us, Thoma. You chose to stay with us when we were at our lowest, so you can’t expect me to throw you away when a small conflict arises.”

“This isn’t a small conflict, Waka,” Thoma protested, “We’re talking about many innocent lives here! I am no one — ”

“You finish that sentence, and I’ll have Sayu sneak Jueyun Chilis in your meals for a week.”

Thoma deflated, “That’s too cruel, Waka.”

“Nii-sama’s point was — ” Ayaka, the sweetest person among them all, chimed in gently behind her fan, “You’ve done so much for the clan. Just like how you didn’t leave us in the past, we will not leave you alone, either. You’re not no one, Thoma. You’re an important member of the Kamisato clan, too.”

“Oujo,” Thoma’s chest swelled, touched by her words.

“After all,” Ayaka’s smile beamed radiantly, as beautiful as the sun after a long winter, “We’re strong together, remember?”

“Indeed,” Ayato agreed, sipping on his tea — probably cold by now. Seemed his fury had been sizzled away by Ayaka’s gentle words as well. “Which brings me to the next item on the agenda — ”

…

Marriage, proven legal on papers.

It caused a storm across Narukami Island. Many questioned the validity of their marriage, even evidence, as it was abruptly announced. With the help of Guuji Yae and other resources Thoma hadn’t known where his master had gotten from, Ayato managed to forge documents stating that they had been married months before the enforcement of the Sakoku Decree. Ayato manipulated the blatant discrimination against outlanders into his favour to justify their reason of keeping their marriage a secret.

Their plan worked wonders. Thoma’s name was no longer on the list, updated by Hisashi. While many expressed their happiness for them, touched by their love and perseverance — as suggested and supported by Guuji Yae in the literature sense, some remained suspicious of their relationship. Hence, these little things.

The sleeping arrangement. The constant physical touch. Small kisses here and there, on the knuckles, on the corner of his lips, on his cheek. The soft smiles, the gentle gazes, even the attention Ayato lavishes on him, as if he means the entire world to Ayato.

It’s flattering. It’s addicting. It’s… hurting.

It hurts Thoma that this is nothing but a disguise. Little brush of skin feels amazing and unbearable at the same time. Ayato’s small gestures make him yearn for more, for something he has no rights for. The fondness in Ayato’s gaze reminds him of the papers sitting in the office. The gentle curve of Ayato’s lips reminds him of Lady Ayaka’s promise.

Loyalty, gratitude, protection.

Never love.

“ — ma?”

A familiar voice blinks Thoma back to the present, and his eyes roam around. A flock of birds fly across the blue sky. Across the street, a black cat slinks into one of the houses. Two kitsunes curl around a statue, enjoying the lazy afternoon. The wind carries the scent of ripe lavender melons. If Thoma really, really squints at the tree by the river, he can spot a glint of an onikabuto.

Ah, Konda Village. He was on his way to Ritou to welcome an important guest from abroad. As a part of the charade, he makes sure to walk Ayato out of Chinju Forest every day before parting ways at Konda Village.

“Are you okay, Thoma? I lost you for a second there,” Ayato raises a brow.

“I’m okay. Thinking, that’s all,” Thoma is quick to reassure.

“Oh, really,” Ayato smiles, “I wonder what keeps my husband’s mind so occupied that he stopped listening to me minutes ago.”

Thoma titters, “No, really. Nothing. I was thinking about dinner. Will you be home for dinner?”

And there is it; the little gestures, the little things. Ayato spins on his heel to give a proper eye contact, full attention and all. Then he leans closer, just a breath away from Thoma’s face, enough to feel Ayato’s warmth envelop him whole, enough to pick up on Ayato’s cool scent, and breathes, “For you, yes.”

If that promise doesn’t make his heart skip, the little peck after that definitely does. Just a simple touch of Ayato’s lips on the corner of his lips, and yet it’s more than enough to make his mind go blank. Enough to put pinky dust on his cheeks. Enough to make him desire for more.

Then, “A rat.”

From the corner of his eye, Thoma catches a glimpse in the bush. Ah, of course.

Disguise. Pretence. Lies.

Those papers. He has a role to play.

Despite the ache in his chest, Thoma reciprocates the gesture. Despite his trembling fingers, he cups Ayato’s face in his palms, looks him in the eyes, smiles then presses his lips against Ayato’s. Gentle. Soft. Meaningful even though the meaning is lost in this game. 

“Tonight, then,” and Thoma leaves.

The ring dangling with his dog tags feels a tonne heavier.

Chapter Text

The Traveller, or Aether, in Thoma’s opinion, is… an honest person. Too honest, in fact. In the span of four hours spent with Aether, Thoma has learned so much about the golden boy. From his words, his gestures, even his eye contact — the boy wears his heart on his sleeve. Without his guidance, the shrewd system enforced on Ritou alone would’ve milked the boy dry until no drop was left. Never mind setting foot on Narukami Island.

To his surprise, though, Aether refuses his request to help their cause in favour of keeping his priority straight. He doesn’t budge even an inch, and Thoma has to respect that. Nonetheless, Thoma can see the justice in those golden eyes; unbreakable, firm, and bright, as bright as the sun in the sky. One of the most important factors needed in order to change the tides. 

Hah, if Thoma, silently, sneakily, subtly, nudged an unsuspecting Aether into the direction where it definitely led him into helping Inazuma, well, drastic times call for drastic measures. He learns from the best, after all.

Next stop, the Komore Teahouse, but his travel is stopped short by a commotion happening in Konda Village. A group of elders crowd one of the houses, worry etched to their faces. Concerned, Thoma makes his way towards the group.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Thoma says gently, towering over the group, “I can’t help but ask; is something wrong?”

“Oh, Thoma,” one of them cries — Thoma remembers her; Mahiru. A generous granny who loves to share her harvest with passers-by, Thoma himself included. “Tejima —  he’s gone. He was taken away!”

Horror strikes Thoma’s heart. He knows Tejima; Konda Village’s protector. He’s responsible for clearing the wild camps in the village. Thoma helped the man once or twice in the past. “Who took him, Obaa-san?”

“The military — the Tenryou Commission. They took him away this morning and he hasn’t come back ever since,” Mahiru explains with a frown, “I am worried, Thoma.”

The Tenryou Commission — this doesn’t spell good. Nothing is good coming from that wicked group since the decrees. Thoma clenches his jaw, tight, to release some suppressed rage in him, then smiles to reassure the elders, “Don’t worry. I’ll look for him and bring him back —  ”

Heavy footfalls turn their attention away, and there he is, Tejima, limp and dragged by a pair of Tenryou guards. Alarmed, Thoma rushes towards the man and grabs him the moment they drop him like a sack of potatoes. Tejima collapses in a heap against Thoma, and his weight punches an ‘Ooof,’ out of Thoma.

“What happened — what did you do to him?” Thoma hisses.

“Ah, it’s Lord Kamisato’s bitch,” the guard sneers, “Fret not. It has nothing to do with you.”

“He’s unconscious. He is — ” in his alarmed state, Thoma notices the absence of Tejima’s vision, supposedly hanging on his belt. “Where is his vision?!”

“Where it’s supposed to be. In our Archon’s will,” the guard jerks his head in the statue’s direction.

Thoma’s gaze follows the gesture. Even afar, the statue looms over the city with its dark shadow. Red, blue, yellow, purple, green and light blue; the vision colours glitter on the statue, glowing like eyes in full of rage. A call for help, of regret, of desperation, for they’ve been stripped off of the rightful owner, and Thoma holds onto Tejima tighter, anger washing over him on Tejima’s behalf.

“You — ” Thoma growls.

“Like I said, it has nothing to do with you. Be grateful of your circumstances, Sir Kamisato,” the guard spits as if the title disgusts him. Or more likely, he’s disgusted by Thoma being superior to them due to the title.

A whimper from Tejima reminds Thoma of his current situation. The worried expression on the elders amplifies the urgency. Even Mahiru looks at them concerned. Fine. Begrudgingly, Thoma retreats to Tejima’s house even though it gives more reasons to the military to belittle him. His priority is Tejima, not his pride.

Thoma makes quick work of settling Tejima in his room. Tejima’s body is feverish; an expected symptom of losing vision. Soon enough, his body temperature is going to skyrocket, followed by nightmares, worsening the health condition, if there is no intervention. Thoma drapes a damp towel over Tejima’s forehead, hoping it can mitigate the symptom while he gets a doctor.

“Obaa-san, I’m going to the city to fetch a doctor. In the meantime, can you look after him? I’ll be sure to make it quick,” Thoma promises. He can hear a stream of whispers from the elders outside, probably worried sick about the man.

“But of course,” Mahiru nods, “Thank you, Thoma, for your help. I’ll make sure to send a gift addressed to you and your husband.”

A sheepish smile blooms across Thoma’s lips. “Please, you don’t have to, Obaa-san.”

“I insist.”

Thoma scratches his cheek, reluctant, but he knows he shouldn’t refuse any further. It will send a wrong message instead. So he bargains, “Alright, Obaa-san. Lavender melons would be great — yours are the sweetest, after all,” lest she should be burdened by it.

“Anything for you and our Lord Kamisato,” she agrees. 

Reassuring the elders one last time, Thoma leaves the village. On his way, he doesn’t see the rude guards anywhere, presumably having returned to their posts. In the city, his presence draws some attention, much to his surprise. Confused but driven by priority, he goes to the house next to Yae Publication and knocks on the door.

A lady steps out, “Oh, Thoma-san. How can I be of service? Is it Furuta-san?”

“No, Haneko-sensei, no. Furuta-san is fine and well at home. It’s Tejima — he, uh,” Thoma swallows thickly, “Vision.”

The doctor understands right away. Haneko rushes back inside, calling out, “I’ll check up on him right away! Where is he?”

“Konda Village. I’ll show you the way.”

“It’s alright, Thoma-san. I can go there by myself,” Haneko comes back with a bag of supplies. She slides it over her shoulder and pats Thoma’s upper shoulder, “I saw Lord Kamisato at Komore Teahouse. Best you see your husband. People are whispering.”

Ah, that explains the looks he’s been receiving. Haneko-san isn’t privy to the nature of his relationship with Ayato, so perhaps this is her way of looking out for Thoma. He offers her a smile, “Thank you, sensei. I’ll be heading for Komore Teahouse, then. I’m sorry I can’t walk you to the village.”

“I am no samurai, but I am no weak lady, either, Thoma-san. Nonetheless, thank you for your concern,” Haneko-sensei gives him a confident smile, complete with a pose, before she bids him goodbye and leaves for the village.

He watches the doctor climb down the stairs, just to look out for her, and continues his walk towards the teahouse. Odd, Ayato should’ve been busy with meetings. Thoma wonders if Ayato’s schedule has been changed without his acknowledgement. That could expose Ayato to dangers.

At Komore Teahouse, Taroumaru greets him with a bark on the counter. Out of habit, Thoma gives him a scratch between his ears in lieu of greeting. From the corner of his eye, he catches the door of the far end room being left ajar. Huh. Must be Ayato.

True enough, the room is occupied by none other than Ayato himself. Seated at the table, Ayato is going through a document, accompanied with a warm tea and tri-color dango.

“What a pleasant surprise, indeed. My dearest husband, in the flesh. Tea?” Ayato asks.

Thoma sighs, settling down on the cushion across the low table, “I doubt this was a surprise for you. You knew I was coming. Shouldn’t you be in the meeting?”

“The meeting was… interrupted. How was Tejima?”

“Haneko-sensei is — wait, you knew about Tejima — no, wrong, of course you knew what happened to Tejima,” Thoma rubs his face, frustrated, “The question is how.”

“It was a violent arrest. Enough to draw Kujou Takayuki’s attention and put our meeting on hold,” Ayato goes back to his reading.

Huh, that means... “So you were there witnessing them take his vision?” Thoma barely can hold himself back from accusing. No, he shouldn’t be angry at Ayato, but to see Tejima almost lifeless with his own eyes, it’s difficult to rein in his anger.

“Yes, I was. And I was intrigued by it,” Ayato says, “The reason for his Vision getting taken away was linked to a crime in Konda Village. He was accused of stealing Mora from a Shogunate’s cargo. The Tenryou Commission deemed him as a dangerous vision holder, hence the public execution to serve his punishment as a warning.”

“What? Tejima would never — ” Colour drains from Thoma’s face.

“I watched the entire thing. From Tejima’s gestures and expressions, it seemed he had no knowledge of this crime prior to the arrest, but the Tenryou Commission never gave him a chance to prove his innocence. My suggestion to have a fair trial and investigation for this poor man was shot down by Kujou Takayuki himself, even though I offered to pay for the legal fees and expenses.”

Fury lights up a fire in Thoma’s chest, reflected on his glowing pyro vision. “Tejima was falsely accused! He was framed. He — ” and Thoma clenches his fists, then decides, “I should go back and check up on Tejima — ”

“Haneko-sensei can take over from here,” Ayato interrupts.

“What — what about the false accusation? We can’t just leave it be,” Thoma argues, perplexed by his master’s response.

Ayato sips on his tea. Calmly. “We’ll look into it.”

“But Waka — ”

“We will look into this,” Ayato insists, firm gaze on Thoma to emphasise his point, “Right now, I want you to join me having tea. It’s delicious, imported from Liyue, I heard. Too good to be wasted away.”

Bewildered, Thoma stares at his master. He opens his mouth, unable to come up with anything, and sighs, frustrated. “It’s just — why, Waka? Why are we doing this when there’s an urgency? Please explain, I just — please, Waka?”

For a moment, Ayato is silent. His eyes, though, are filled with unreadable emotions, as if he’s keeping a thousand stories inside, locked away in his chest. Then he reaches out, gloved hand, adorned with the wedding ring, brushing against Thoma’s cheek.

“You are… a loyal man, Thoma. Kind. Generous. Filled with an abundance of empathy. I — no, the Kamisato clan is fortunate to have you, not just as a retainer, but as a husband to the clan head,” when Ayato speaks of this, his words are wrapped in a whisper, as though they’re meant for Thoma’s ear only. It feels exclusive. It feels special. It feels intimate. 

But then — 

His hand grips onto Thoma’s chin, firm, just a fraction beneath pain, and Ayato’s purple eyes glint dangerously.

“Because of this, you must watch your step, Thoma. You’re no longer a mere retainer, you’re my husband. People are watching you. Judging you. Expecting you to slip. And we can’t have that, Thoma. We can’t give them more reasons to be suspicious of us. If poking your nose into this case could expose you to dangers, then I must forbid you from meeting Tejima,” Ayato warns, his words sharp despite the calm expression, “When I said I can’t lose you, Thoma, I meant it.”

His warning dawns on Thoma, slow and heavy, then regret bubbles up in his chest. He didn’t mean to cause trouble. And no, he doesn’t forget about his status — his plain wedding ring is a reminder enough. It’s just… Tejima didn’t deserve to lose his vision, to be accused wrongly.

“I’m sorry for my recklessness, Waka,” Thoma says when Ayato lets go of him, “But are we going to help Tejima? We — we can’t leave him like that.”

That small, genuine smile returns to Ayato’s lips. “Worry not, my dearest husband. Hisashi is going through the report as we speak. If given enough time, we should be able to find any lead. Then, I’ll have to ask you to contact Shikanoin Heizou and share the leads with him. He is a Doushin, but he is impartial. Just. We can believe him to be unbiased.”

Hope flares back to life, and Thoma almost springs to his feet, excited, “Oh, I didn’t know — why, thank you, Waka. And — and yes, leave Shikanoin Heizou to me. I’ll find him as soon as possible! This is — oh, I’m sorry, Waka, for being impatient. I — uh, should’ve known better,” his face turns red, embarrassed.

“It’s alright. For my dearest husband, I’ll do anything. I’ll endure everything,” Ayato tips his head to the side. Playfully. Teasingly. “Also, it’s not ‘Waka,’ remember?”

“Ah, right. Ayato,” Thoma rubs the nape of his neck, uncomfortable to hear Ayato’s name rolling off easily on his tongue. It’s too casual!

“Better get used to it,” Ayato chuckles, “It’s almost time for the meeting again. I should go before Kujou Takayuki whines about my absence — he’s a difficult man to deal with. A manchild, he is. I wonder if his IQ diminishes as he grows old.”

Thoma offers his hand to help his master up, with a smile, “I wish I could go to the meeting on your behalf.”

“The thought counts. Walk with me, husband?”

Ah, right. The public display of their romance. A requirement in this forced marriage. Thoma remembers he has a role to play. “Yeah, sure. Gotta parade our beautiful love, no?”

That earns him a quiet stare from Ayato before that blank expression melts into a polite smile. Ayato links their fingers together and says, “Yes, let’s put up a great show, shall we?”

As planned, the moment they hit the street, the charade begins. Ayato keeps Thoma close by his side every time someone passes by. His lips remain curled into a smile, softened by that gentle gaze in those purple eyes. He listens to Thoma’s stories, even reacts to them; a sign of genuine focus. When a merchant greets them, Ayato replies with a polite nod, then lets Thoma lead the conversation as he curls an arm around Thoma’s waist.

“Oh, young love,” some say.

“Beautiful couple,” others say.

Walking with Ayato is easy. Talking with Ayato is easy. Laughing with Ayato is easy. Being around Ayato is easy. It’s as if they’re in a small bubble while the rest of the world turns into obscurity.

The stairs to the Tenshukaku stand tall before them, guarded by the military personnel. Thoma stops short at the gate, fully prepared for another yet lovely gesture from Ayato.

And Ayato does just that.

A brush of lips on Thoma’s knuckles, no longer than two seconds but enough to make Thoma’s breath hitch because that gaze — that gentle gaze is filled with something, something beautiful and hopeful. And that whisper coming after, “Thank you for the lovely date,” causes Thoma’s pulse racing erratically, irrationally.

It’s…

“Blasphemy,” a grunt flits past.

Ah, right.

It’s so easy to be immersed in the pretence that Thoma almost forgets about the forged documents in Ayato’s office. Almost.

Chapter Text

A glimpse at Ayato’s unusual grim expression is a clue enough for Thoma to know his tight schedule. No need for further explanation. His mind is already kicking into gear, ready to take any necessary action to lighten Ayato’s burden within his limitations as the Kamisato clan’s chief retainer.

Documents, snacks, even extra kimonos — Thoma packs them all up into a bag, not too heavy to carry by Ayato’s personal bodyguard, and yet sufficient to last for a week. The least he can do for Hisashi is keep the luggage light for the man to shoulder.

Ayato slides the door to their bedroom open. He tips his head inside, “Are you done, Thoma?”

“Ah, yes, yes,” Thoma hurriedly ties the bag and jogs up towards his master, “Documents, some snacks, your clothes — yes, all done. Let’s go.”

“Oh goodness, aren’t you prepared. Thank you, dearest husband,” Ayato smiles. He gestures ahead, another hand on the small of Thoma’s back to guide him forward, “Let us haste, indeed.”

This time, though, Ayato only requests him to walk him out of the front gate as Ayato’s presence is required at Narukami Grand Shrine. Thoma hands the bag over to Hisashi before the ninja vanishes into the thin air — again , and then turns to Ayato. “I can walk you up to the shrine,” Thoma offers.

“It’s fine. You have an appointment with our honoured guest, yes?” Ayato reminds him.

Ah,  right. Last he heard, the Traveller managed to get past Ritou and reached Konda Village, but got sidetracked by a shrine maiden. If his calculation was correct, Aether would show up at the teahouse at noon. It’s his responsibility to give Aether clarification of their pressing issues, so he can’t afford to miss the appointment.

…but still. 

“I know. It’s just…” Thoma frowns.

“Don’t worry,” Ayato runs his knuckles across Thoma’s cheek, down his jaw, before he reaches Thoma’s rat tail and twirls it between his fingers. Then he leans closer and kisses the end strands of the rat tail, sweetly, lingering, long enough that Thoma swears he can feel the sensation clearly as if it was on his skin.

Huh, ridiculous, Thoma thinks.

Ayato lets his rat tail slip between his gloved fingers, across the wedding ring, and pulls a smile, “I’ll be home before you know it,” small but blinding.

Thoma’s heart thumps once, and he looks down at his shoes. “Yea — yeah, be safe.”

“I will,” and Ayato’s calm voice warms his cheeks.

…

Playing tour guide with Aether is a refreshing experience. The boy is genuinely interested in learning Inazuman customs and cultures. His floating fairy, Paimon, keeps pestering Thoma for food, which often earns him an apologetic look from Aether because apparently, Paimon’s stomach is bottomless. Good thing Thoma knows a few things about cooking, and a dango is enough to win Paimon’s heart over.

The first location they swing by is the statue in the city. Personally, Thoma finds the statue oppressive, not just in terms of its size, but the purpose as well. Too much cruelty happened under the name of the decree, too many anguish cries carried in the wind. Hence, his reluctance to use this path. 

Judging from Aether’s look, it seems that his message hits home but it isn’t enough to convince A ether to help their cause. Next step, then; the Kamisato Estate.

Their short journey to the estate is relatively eventful. From Inazuma City to Konda Village, they’re accompanied by a stream of whispers and stares, and Thoma hopes it’s because of Aether’s unusual outfits and Paimon. For once, he’d like to stay away from the spotlight.

“Uhm, why does Paimon feel like we’re being stared at?” Paimon flutters around Aether and Thoma, anxious.

“I’ve noticed it too,” Aether says, even if his body language tells otherwise; calm and unbothered as his eyes roam across the river behind the village, intrigued by the broken stones which emit mysterious purple light.

Thoma chuckles, “Well, we don’t usually receive guests from abroad. Please don’t be bothered by them.”

“Is that so?” Aether raises a brow, “I heard some — yeah, they talk about us, but they also talk about you, too, Thoma.”

“About our hair colour? It’s kinda… weird, right?” Thoma pulls some strands just to prove his point.

“About that ring, specifically,” Aether points at Thoma’s ring, “The ladies at Yae Publication. They sounded pretty… enthusiastic about it. What’s the deal with the ring?”

Ah, busted. Thoma wishes they wouldn’t touch this topic, but it seems he can’t escape the gossip. A hefty price to pay when married to the clan head, he reckons. “It’s nothing special.”

“Really? But Paimon heard them say, ‘Lord Kamisato should’ve gotten a better, prettier ring than that rusty band!’ and ‘Suspicious, a whimsical purchase, maybe?’ or something along those lines. It’s like the ring is very important to them,” Paimon wonders aloud.

“Ladies sure love jewellery, don’t they,” Thoma tries to evade. It’s a good thing he’d cleared the path from kairagi before he went to the teahouse — it would’ve given a bad impression if he hadn’t.

The smile on Aether’s face is both playful and confident when he says, “We’ve been in Inazuma for two, three days, Thoma. We hear people talk. We pick up on rumours. We see how people behave around you. I know you claimed you’re the chief retainer of an important clan, but I think there’s more to that. Seems like you’re far more important than what you told us.”

That steals away any response Thoma has prepared beforehand. He deflates, sighing, “Nothing gets past you, eh?”

“Of course! That’s how we’ve been surviving,” Paimon declares proudly, and yelps when she almost floats into a lavender melon tree.

Aether pulls Paimon closer for her safety as they trudge along the small track in Chinju Forest, “Thoma, you’ve been a good friend to me. I put my faith in you to show me around, and you’ve been doing a great job at it, except when you tricked me once in Ritou — ”

“It wasn’t a trick,” Thoma groans, “It was, uh, a thoughtful plan to make sure — ”

“ — to make sure we understood the severity of the decrees imposed across the nation, yes,” Aether finishes, “But I hope you can give me more reasons to continue placing faith in you. How about we start our friendship anew with honesty?”

The glint in Aether’s eyes is a warning enough, and Thoma knows no way he can’t get away unscathed. He stops in his tracks, mulls it over for a moment, then decides with a heavy sigh. “Alright. Honesty, let’s do that. But — if and only if you can promise me not to treat me any differently.”

“Well, that’s sure interesting, but okay, I promise,” Aether places a hand on his chest. Earnestly. Firmly.

“Paimon isn’t sure what’s going on, but okay, Paimon promises she won’t treat Thoma any differently!” Paimon chimes loudly. Proud of her promise.

“Alright, okay, I appreciate that, thank you,” Thoma says, scratching his cheek, uncomfortable to breach the topic, “First things first, I would like to apologise if those stares bothered you. You didn’t deserve any unwanted attention, and for that, I apologise since those whispers and stares happened — uh, probably because of me, as you, uhm, suspected.”

Because of his wedding ring. Because of his marital status.

“And yeah, to tell you the truth — ” Thoma swallows thickly, “I’m, uh, not just a retainer. I… married the clan head, and to Inazuman people, it’s a highly controversial topic due to my… origin and low status.”

“Ohh?!! Does this mean that you’re a very, very important figure in Inazuma?!” Paimon shrieks, taken aback, “Aether, quick, tell him we’re sorry for being rude. Oh, should Paimon call you Milord? How about — uhm, Sir Thoma, or something like that? Or, or — ”

Before Paimon can dwell on it, Thoma interrupts, “Please, please, don’t! None of that. You promised, remember?”

“Are you sure? Because Paimon, uh, wouldn’t want to offend an important figure in Inazuma like you,” Paimon frowns, worried, “Paimon doesn’t want to get arrested!”

“No, no, it’s alright. No one is going to arrest you,” Thoma reassures.

Paimon looks worried still, but she gives it a chance in the end, “...okay. You promise, so Paimon is going to hold you to that.”

Aether gestures to Paimon around so they can return to their short travel. A glance at his golden eyes, however, hints Thoma at Aether’s curiosity, and Thoma isn’t proven wrong when Aether continues, “I’m more intrigued by the fact that you never used the benefits of your marital status when you attempted to resolve the dispute in Ritou the other day. Instead, you used your clan’s influence.”

“Ah, that,” Thoma recalls the argument with the Kanjou Commission in Ritou, “As I said, our marriage triggered a great number of conflicts, so I wouldn’t want to cause more problems. Introducing myself as Oujo’s attendant is a way to inform people that I work as the Kamisato clan’s retainer, not a husband to the clan head. All actions I take while I’m working are my own decisions alone, nothing to do with my husband.”

Like this, Ayato’s name wouldn’t be smeared in dirt if he slipped. He’d bear the consequences alone even if it could cost him his life. The clan’s safety is his top priority. This is the least he can do to repay the clan’s kindness since he was taken in by them.

At first, Aether is quiet, staring at him like he’s a piece of puzzle. Then he curls a small smile. “You want to be seen as your own person. Loyal to a fault, too. Hm, the clan head is lucky to have you, Thoma.”

Nothing that he hadn’t heard before — usually from Ayato and Ayaka, but well, Thoma appreciates it, nonetheless. He laughs carefreely, “ You know me so well, Traveller.”

At the estate, the introduction goes smoothly, even though Thoma can hear the tremor in Ayaka’s voice behind the shoji paper. As expected, Aether doesn’t agree to lend a hand, but he accepts Lady Ayaka’s request to start an investigation around Narukami Island in order to have a deeper understanding of their situation.

“I see. Three people, am I correct? At Konda Village and in Inazuma City,” Aether seems to make a mental list, chin perched on his fingers.

“Yes, three people. Then please inform us of your decision, be it positive or negative. We will respect whichever decision you may take,” Oujo says, even if her voice is hopeful.

“Okie dokie! Let’s go, Aether, it’s time to be an investigator,” Paimon announces. Loudly. Happily.

The moment Aether and Paimon leave the estate, Lady Ayaka steps out of her hiding, red in the face. Perhaps from nervousness as she rarely makes interaction with people, sheltered by her brother’s fame. Thoma inches closer, worried.

“Are you alright, Oujo?”

“Yes, yes,” Ayaka fans herself, “It’s just — I think it’s been a while since I talked so much. Did I do okay, Thoma?”

A small, proud smile stretches across Thoma’s lips. “You did great, Oujo. You convinced him to look into this himself, and that was a great step. Waka would be proud of you.”

“Ah, yes. Let’s hope their cries and ambitions reach his heart. Our nation needs a hero, and he’s all we have left,” Ayaka stares at the entrance gate, with a palm over her chest and a faraway glitter in her blue eyes.

A cough brings their attention around. Koharu bows deeply, a package wrapped in her arms around her middle. “Sorry for the interruption. A package for Thoma-san is here. Sent by Mahiru from Konda Village.”

“Ah, yes, Mahiru-san! It’s the lavender melon,” Thoma recalls. He takes the package from Koharu with a warm-felt gratitude, and notices Ayaka’s bewildered look. “Oh, this. A gift from Mahiru–san for, uhm, helping her out. She insisted on it.”

“I see. I heard Konda Village produce the sweetest lavender melons. How about we have them for dinner?” Ayaka suggests, stars returning to her eyes, pleased and touched by Mahiru’s kindness.

“Great minds think alike, Oujo,” Thoma grins. A look at the package, and Thoma remembers they were addressed to Ayato as well. His thumb rubs across the paperbag. Mahiru’s name on the package stares back at him. A small smile, a bit brittle at the edges, takes over his expression. “Too bad Waka isn’t around. He’d be delighted to have a taste of the finest lavender melon.”

Dainty fingers curl around Thoma’s arm, and he’s met with Ayaka’s smile. “Then, let’s have dinner together. We can ask Furuta-san, too. The more, the merrier.”

“Oh, Oujo, it’s — we wouldn’t want to interrupt your much-needed me-time,” Thoma sputters, pink dust scattering across his cheekbones.

“No, no, Thoma. I’m not asking to have dinner with you as my attendee. I’m asking to have dinner with you as my brother-in-law. Furuta-san, too, has been serving the clan for decades; she’s practically family.” Then the glint in her eyes turn mischievous, “Nii-sama has been hogging you night and day, so it’s time for some in-laws bonding moment, don’t you think? Also, it’s ‘Ayaka.’ Not ‘Oujo,’ Thoma-nii.”

Huh, Thoma sighs, with a smile, unsurprised at all. He shouldn’t have forgotten that the siblings cut from the same cloth. Like brother, like sister, indeed.