Chapter Text
Be good and stay put.
Trapped by a Mist Flower,
what does fate have in store
by the fox who met a hunter?
Inazuma was the home to numerous noble families, their crests and flags waving proudly in the air above the roofs of the mansions, sprinkling the landscape of the country with their colors. Households were quick to rise and fall, subjected to the whims of business and economy, always fearing bankruptcy and debt.
Tomo had been lucky enough to be born in a respectable clan, the only heir to a rich politician. Spoiled and pampered, the child could have anything he wished for with merely a snap of his fingers, maids and servants rushing to prostrate at his feet. But the happiness of being worshipped didn't last for long.
Ever since he learned how to speak and walk, he had been a rowdy boy. Despite his strict upbringing and the impeccable manners instilled in his head, he never learned how to behave properly. He got himself into all sorts of trouble, and his naivety led him to trust strangers too easily, unaware of the dangers hiding behind every corner of the city.
A simple escort when leaving the mansion proved to not be enough. A bodyguard had to be placed by his side at the ripe age of five, to ensure nobody could hurt or kidnap him. His parents believed this would solve the matter of his disobedience forever, turning Tomo's life into a safe and comfortable journey. They had failed to take into account his feelings, though.
Being chased around wherever he went, given no chance to talk or play with other kids around his age, having no room for himself even as he slept, Tomo was trapped in a nightmare. Among the fairytales his lady-in-waiting used to read before his bedtime, he had fallen in love with the story of a dandelion that rode the wind to a faraway land. That was everything he yearned to be: free, able to discover who he truly was, and allowed to mess up from time to time. To be normal , he'd say.
He couldn't show his suffering to anyone. People would kill to be in his place, to not have to lift a finger and have servants do everything in their stead. He suffocated his feelings through his entire childhood and youth, playing the role he had been given on the stage of life, pretending to be fine.
Upon reaching legal age, he had a single wish to be granted━ being set free from the burden of an attendant. His parents had reluctantly accepted, choosing to place their faith in the maturity of their son. After all, they thought, he must have learned something from all the years of indoctrination.
They weren't wrong. Rather than acting impulsively and risk attracting their attention, the threat of being assigned another guard dog weighing on his back like a vulture, he tried his best to behave as the nobleman he was supposed to be. He threw tantrums, occasionally, and he wasn't easily pleased. Still, there was no public trace of the undisciplined child he used to be.
For three long years, Tomo savored the taste of freedom. He didn't do much, juggling his hours between his duties as an heir, studying politics and economics, and his limited list of hobbies. It was blissful to be let out of his golden cage, experiencing delightful privacy. He had begun living then and there, the man existing before that moment being nothing but a distorted reflection of his real self.
Some mornings greeted him with a cold shiver down his spine, a bad omen that tempted him to crawl back into bed and forget about the world entirely. The dawn of his twenty-fourth birthday had been one of those, a panicked voice screaming undecipherable words of warning inside his head. Convincing himself he was making no sense, Tomo wobbled his way to the conference room, where his parents had summoned him.
He passed the swarm of servants bowing at his passage and pushed open the heavy portal, the familiar smell of scented candles assaulting his nose. His parents were sitting on their usual ornate chairs, the closest thing to a throne Tomo had ever seen. A stranger stood on the carpet before them. His colorful haori shone in the light of the chandeliers, making his ghostly pale skin stick out.
Tomo was used to seeing unknown people crowding those halls. As the son of a politician, he was often forced to tag along with him and attend his meetings, where everyone spoke unfathomable words and discussed complicated matters. He was supposed to learn the secrets of the job, to get acquainted with the lingo and the atmosphere, yet he was still struggling not to fall asleep three minutes in.
"We have news," his mother cooed, her legs elegantly crossed. "I know this is sudden, but we're pleased to introduce to you mister Kaedehara." The man bowed politely, a waterfall of silky white hair cascading down his shoulders in the motion.
Tomo greeted him as well, nodding with his head and muttering a faint "nice to meet you ". He had a horrible feeling about that. Usually, no one bothered introducing him to their guests unless they meant trouble for him.
He gulped, his mind working hard to remember the sentences of courtesy he was supposed to say, the facade he was expected to maintain. "May I inquire as to what business leads you here, mister Kaedehara?" he asked.
"Starting today," his father's voice thundered across the empty room, "He's going to be your loyal shadow. We are aware you haven't been assisted by a bodyguard in years, yet I hope you remember how to behave nonetheless."
" What?" The question escaped his lips before he could control them, all manners abandoned. Did he hear that right? He had humiliated himself to beg for freedom, and he had given absolutely no problems to his family throughout all his independent time. More or less, that is. So why that sudden decision? There must be some scheme behind his back. "There has to be a mistake━"
"No mistakes, my beloved." His mother stood up from her chair. As she walked up to Tomo, her dress swiped the floor at every step, heels clicking on the marble tiles. "The maids have been instructed to arrange his belongings in your apartments."
"But why?" Tomo whined. "What did I do wrong?"
The woman's smile cracked, a hue of worry darkening her eyes. "You aren't to blame," she whispered. "Trust us when we say it is for your sake."
If he didn't have some final shreds of pride to preserve in front of a complete stranger, Tomo would have definitely thrown a full-fledged tantrum. He felt tricked, given a poisoned mouthful of freedom only to have it stolen from his grasp as soon as the taste began tickling his tongue.
"Out, now," his father shooed him. "Get going. I have urgent business to attend to."
When did Tomo have a choice, after all? He was nothing but a puppet for his parents, his strings clutched tightly in their hands. He slammed the door on his way out, the loud noise echoing through the airy corridors. He took a deep sight, desperate to chase away his tears. He couldn't cry in front of his bodyguard, could he? If he were to consider him a weakling, he'd feel compelled to shield him even from the ants roaming the garden. Bodyguard… The word stung bitterly under his tongue.
The weight of an unfamiliar gaze landed on him. Tomo looked up, meeting the dull red eyes of the man━ mister Kaedehara, his mother had said. No emotions were printed upon his face, as he likely waited for Tomo to issue his first orders or to guide him across the house. His fists clenched at the thought of sharing his private space with yet another soldier. His days of autonomy were long gone.
He stormed down the corridor, letting out his anger through his hasty pace. The stranger trotted after him with feathery steps, his glance darting between Tomo's back and the paintings and chandeliers hanging from the walls. It must have been the first noble mansion he had seen, if trivial details such as the portraits of the ancestors attracted his curiosity so much. They were so useless and worn off, that they were no more than background decor to him.
"So," Tomo dared to break the ice, "Do you also have a first name, or should I attach some honorifics to Kaedehara and call it a day?"
The man blinked, unfazed by his lack of manners. "Kazuha," he muttered. His voice was mellow, with no echo, reminding Tomo of the ghostly beings he had seen in the illustrated books from his childhood.
"Kazuha, alright," he said. "I'm Tomo". Although he had probably been ordered to call him in some pointlessly ceremonious way, such as master or the likes of it, he preferred a down-to-earth approach. His first name was more than enough, to him.
It took him half an hour of monologue to understand that Kazuha was never going to talk to him. Every question he tossed at him, every attempt at chatting and getting to know each other, was met with the deadliest of silences. Kazuha barely batted an eye, ignoring him at the peak of his might.
Tomo remembered stories about the Kaedehara clan. There had been quite the ruckus around them, their family name whispered across the hallways and streets for weeks on end. He wasn't one to bother with political rumors and crowd gossip, so he couldn't recall what the incident was about. The only, evident reality was that Kazuha was about to ruin his life like a stab wound in his gut.
If kindness didn't have any effect, perhaps provocations would be the key to unlocking his heart. "You know," he snapped at some point, "At least my previous bodyguards talked."
Tomo didn't picture a precise reaction he'd love to see on Kazuha's face. He was hoping for a pout, an inkling of hurt, or even sheer anger at the indirect criticism. Yet, there was no change in his expression. He tilted his head politely, his gaze onto the floor. "I apologize if I'm not living up to your expectations."
That was the most irritating path he could have chosen. Why didn't he break his composure at all? The more he lingered at his side, the more Kazuha felt like a supernatural creature, ready to haunt his dreams and turn them into nightmares.
As he choked back his anger, his fingers fiddled with the handle until the door of his room swung open with a deafening creak. Tomo had asked multiple times to change it with a regular sliding door but, according to his parents, those bulky portals were a luxurious custom from a faraway land. To make a good impression with foreign guests, his father had boasted.
A single piece of luggage had been placed in the center of the floor, along with a sheathed blade. The entire place had been gussied up, scented candles and air fresheners swapped with brand new ones, the wood in the fireplace freshly cut. It was so different, so clean and banal, that Tomo felt like a stranger in his own nest.
"Where should I sleep?" Kazuha asked flatly.
Tomo glared at him. "It's barely noon," he said. "Why do you want to sleep already?"
"My most sincere apologies," Kazuha bowed his head, annoyingly polite. "The journey tired me out. Don't hesitate to call me if something happens, of course."
With an exhausted groan, Tomo pointed at the right side of the room. Behind a semi-transparent screen, the futon of his previous bodyguard had been laid onto the ground, with fresh covers and a basket of fruit on the bedside table.
Kazuha shifted his way to the mattress. His white hair vanished behind the folding screen, and Tomo stared at his silhouette as he undressed and slid inside the futon, barely making a noise.
He could already see their coexistence being a wild ride.
a few months later
Tomo tried his best to adapt to Kazuha's presence. He was unable to fall asleep for an entire week after his arrival, his mind troubled by the proximity of the intruder, a mere whisper from his bed, rolled up in his futon in dead silence.
To be honest, Tomo often wondered whether he slept or not, for he didn't snore nor breathe. Each passing dawn left him more convinced that he wasn't human. He must have been a demon, a kitsune, or some other malicious spirit who had come to haunt him.
He had forgotten the awful sensation. Being watched as maids dressed him, sharing the table with someone, being followed wherever he went. After an initial struggle, Tomo realized the harsh reality━ he was always the same old prisoner, he simply had a new jailer.
The cold weather relieved his pain, the icy snow mantle outside making him crave the warmth of the mansion, reducing his will to leave. But as winter gradually faded into spring, the first rays of sun peeking through the windows and waking up in the mornings, detention became intolerable. He lay on the veranda most of his afternoons, pretending to study. His focus drifted soon, though, mind chasing castles in the air.
"Kazuha," he asked one day when the sun was particularly scorching, "can we go down to the riverside?"
Kazuha lifted his eyes from the book he was reading, his irises shining in irritation for being interrupted. "No," he declared.
As expected. During the months they had spent together, Kazuha had proved to be by far his worst guardian. They couldn't be any more different━ quiet and smart the one, nose-deep in books and poetry scrolls at any given moment; talkative and energetic the other, constantly trying to get permission to sneak out and have fun.
"Why?" he inquired.
Kazuha sighed in resignation. "Because it's dangerous," he explained. "There is nothing to do there. I don't plan to risk exposing you to bandits merely for a stroll. It's best to stay inside as much as you can, to save your life."
Kazuha barely spoke, except to scold him. In those cases, words flowed endlessly from his lips like a downpour. Tomo didn't want to live in a small protected bubble, not after checking he could do just fine by himself. But with the current situation, he couldn't act out of his own will, guards stopping him with force if he tried to leave the mansion unaccompanied. So, with Kazuha's refusal, he was locked inside.
Not a day went by without them bickering from dawn to dusk. Kazuha killed his enthusiasm, tore apart his plans, and forbade his fun. He was worse than his mother, prudent to an obnoxious extreme, keeping him chained to boredom.
"You know what? I hate you," Tomo hissed.
Another remarkable trait about Kazuha was his keen ears. No matter how low Tomo kept his voice or how light his steps were as he tried to sneak out━ he heard it. He heard everything .
"It does not matter that you hate me," he said. "I'm doing my job, and nothing more."
At that moment, Tomo made it his personal quest to get the man to open up to him. If they couldn't get along, if they were bound to argue for the rest of their time together, he could at least pluck some personal information out of the man. Just out of curiosity, he told himself.
Around early summer that year, the Sakoku Decree entered into full force. The borders of the country were locked, causing laws about immigration, commerce, import and export to change drastically. People weren't allowed to leave freely anymore unless they were granted special permissions or held diplomatic immunity.
On the rare occasions he strolled downtown, with Kazuha marching a step behind his back, Tomo heard the citizens complain and saw the tension building up among the crowd. Troubled foreigners, confused merchants, people jumping on boats in a foolish escape and halted with force by the soldiers on patrol.
He wasn't sure how to feel about it. He wasn't knowledgeable enough to form his own opinion, politics being still a complicated matter for him. His father had rejoiced at the news, hosting huge banquets and parties to celebrate. It wasn't news that he was in good relations with the Shogun, and believed strongly in her ideals. The only time Tomo had the chance to take a glimpse of her from afar, a cold shiver ran through his blood. Her eyes had no light.
Piqued by the turning of tables on the political scene, guests ceased attending his mother's tea parties. Most of her acquaintances were of the opposing party, probably her way to show disapproval of her husband's beliefs. The man often opposed her meetings with her friends and used to spit hateful words about them at dinner, when they were gone. All the woman could do was listen in silence, harboring scorn inside her chest.
Tomo wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn't completely dumb either. He figured that his father must have earned himself a plethora of enemies throughout his career. And suddenly, the idea of a bodyguard being assigned to him out of the blue assumed a new meaning.
To clear his doubts, he requested to join his mother. Comfortably sitting on a cushion in the corner of the room, he watched carefully as she executed the complex ceremony of tea, her biggest pride. She often told him of the years of practice she had to attend in order to master every step of the process, acquiring incomparable gracefulness in her movements.
"Dearest son," she cooed once they were both in front of the table, smoking hot cups of tea fizzling before their eyes, "What did you want to ask me?"
Despite the questions which had been buzzing inside his head for hours, Tomo was suddenly at a loss for words. He couldn't find a nice way to introduce the topic, politeness turning into a hard task when uncertainty tainted his mind. So, he chose to follow his instinct, going straight to the point.
"Why did you hire Kazuha?" he asked.
The woman took a long sip before replying, as if pondering on her answer. "I can't let you in on the details," she said then. "Though believe me, it is only for your safety."
Tomo understood that his hunch had been correct. Normally, there would be no need to rush to such extreme measures, his life quite far from being endangered. "Did someone threaten to hurt me?" he inquired.
She didn't answer, her gaze speaking enough for her. A slight wave of panic permeated Tomo's soul. He had never considered he might be at risk, pampered between those walls since his childhood. Not that he liked to linger on thoughts of death and spirituality, but the idea of being killed did indeed scare him a little.
"I've heard you don't get along," she commented after a short silence.
Tomo groaned. "He's even stricter than my bodyguard when I was five," he whined. "I can't even go to the riverbanks to pick flowers. He refuses to accompany me, saying it's dangerous, and all that stuff."
"Well, he is undoubtedly in the right." A soft chuckle escaped her lips, as she elegantly covered her mouth to hide her laugh. Tomo thought she was beautiful, so polite and delicate. He wondered what parts of her had been poured into him at birth. Probably none; he hadn't got an ounce of her carrying.
Tomo took a deep breath, gathering the courage to ask her more questions, breaking their usual composed stillness. "Mother," he said, "Could you please tell me more about him?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, not expecting him to demand more details about a man he disliked. That was not like him at all. Whatever he didn't love or cherish deserved no attention. She emptied her cup, wiping her lips with an embroidered tissue, before beginning her tale.
"He was the last heir of his household like you are to your father's," she told him. "But when his family sank into debt, they lost their prestige. Without a home to return to, Kazuha apparently took the path of banditry, turning into a mercenary."
"A mercenary?!" Tomo echoed. "You hired a mercenary as my bodyguard?" That sounded like the worst choice to keep someone safe. If anything, it sounded like dooming him to certain danger.
His mother glared at him, wordlessly ordering to let her finish before interrupting. "He wasn't any common bandit," she said. "He had a notable fame. He was well-known for his polished skills, his null body count, and his low fees."
Low fees. Really. So, their decision had been a matter of greed ? Tomo desperately wanted to believe there was more to it than that. He must have been worth more than a few saved cents, after all…
"Moreover, he has no political stance," the woman added. "To put it simply, he was our best pick. When he was offered the job, the only requirement he was suspicious about was the need for him to converse."
Tomo furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "And what did you say to that?" he asked. He was famous for being talkative and, according to his previous watchmen, loud and bothersome .
She ran her lacquered fingers through her sandy hair, playing with the elastic of her braid. "Truth be told, we said that you would likely hate him, so no talking would be necessary on his part," she said.
The truth of her words slapped Tomo with unprecedented strength. Their intuition had been spot-on: he strongly disliked that man. But it was also worth mentioning that a big portion of his antipathy was due to his restrictions and stubbornness to keep his mouth shut, which now made more sense in the big picture.
"But━" he complained, "How can I have someone floating around me if he doesn't even wanna talk to me?"
A cold light crossed her eyes, making him shiver. "It's best if you do not form a bond," she said plainly. "Affection can lead to rash decisions in times of danger, and he needs to be sharp and alert."
She had a point, of course. As the wife of a politician, she knew what peril was. She must have had her fair share of pursuers when she was younger and still left the house, before retiring to her homely confinement.
But Tomo yearned for independence. And independence began with small steps, with the feeble illusion of free will. "Mother," he declared, "I think I want to know him, though. I don't want him to be a stranger."
In all honesty, their relationship was horrible. It would have been pleasant to count at least a few positive days, among the somber hours of bickering.
The woman smiled, cunningly. "Then, that's your own issue to solve, dearest," she hummed.
Joyful things were a rare occasion for Tomo, imprisoned in his own home. So much so that, when he first caught a glimpse of the cat's white fur, he thought he must be still dreaming. There was no way he'd be allowed the happiness of rescuing a stray animal and keeping it as a pet, after all.
But as he lifted its small body in the air, limbs trembling against the warmth of his fingers, he understood it was very much real. "Kazuha!" he called out, eager to show him his discovery.
Kazuha peeked from over his shoulder, his white hair brushing against the skin of Tomo's neck. "Is that a cat?" he asked.
"Yeah!" Tomo chirped. "Look, it's so small!" He flung the kitty towards Kazuha's face. The man took an unwilling whiff of its scent and sneezed loudly, shattering the silence of the garden. "Oh, are you allergic?"
"Perhaps," Kazuha commented, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I've never owned a pet, so I couldn't know."
They stared at it for a while. The cat squirmed in Tomo's palms, struggling to find a comfortable position. It rolled up in a ball and eventually found its sweet spot, its tail relaxing as it slowly fell asleep. It was so tiny that it could fit in one of his hands━ clearly the most endearing thing Tomo had ever had the chance to see.
His heart was at its melting point. He wanted that fuzzy sensation to continue forever. He glanced up at Kazuha with sparkly eyes, all the excitement of a child on his lips. "Can I keep it?!"
Kazuha failed to hide a shadow of pure terror clouding his face. "It's not me you should ask," he mumbled. "For what concerns me, yes, as long as you don't get it too close to my nose. Your parents, though…"
Tomo's finger covered his lips, successfully stopping his protest. "They don't need to know," he whispered. "This will be our little secret." He didn't know what he was doing. Playing around, teasing Kazuha, acting almost flirtatiously only to get on his good side. That's not exactly what he had planned upon deciding he'd befriend him, but it came somehow natural to him.
And it didn't seem to work either, because Kazuha didn't catch the bait, quickly swatting his hand away from his face. "I don't know how I feel about keeping secrets from my employer," he said.
"If they find out, I'll take responsibility!" Tomo stubbornly insisted. "Please, Kazuha…"
Whenever Kazuha had to decide for him, there were only two determining factors: duty, and annoyance. That situation fit clearly in the second category━ Tomo noticed by the way he shook his head, resigned, and chose the option that would elicit fewer complaints from his obnoxious young boss. "Alright," he accepted. "Do what you please. What do you want to name it?"
Tomo hummed in glee, for the first time allowed to satisfy his caprices without the need for a tantrum. "Hm, what about Shiro?" he suggested. "It's white."
The cat shrunk against his palms, curling up into a ball and letting out a soft meow. Kazuha's hand timidly reached out to touch its fur, his fingertips sinking in the snowy coat. "What about Tama?"
Perhaps softened by the cat's sudden entrance into their life, Kazuha agreed to accompany Tomo on a stroll, when the sun shone simply too harshly for them to breathe inside the thick walls of the mansion. He refused to approach Tomo's sighed riverbank, though, deeming it a place too dangerous for a young lord to roam, bandits lying in ambush behind every tree.
Although he had finally achieved what he strove for, Tomo couldn't call himself satisfied. Kazuha was on the brink of driving him crazy, choosing to walk meters behind him, barely at an audible distance. He had the hunch that he disliked him, but that was taking it too far.
"If you have to follow me everywhere," he yelled at some point, "can't you at least come here so we can talk?" It felt lonely to walk alone, with the landscape as his sole companion. He wouldn't mind some company, after so many months of reclusion.
Kazuha didn't bat an eye. "Talking isn't part of my job," he said plainly. "I need to keep you safe, and it's best if I keep my distance."
"That makes no sense," Tomo insisted. "If you're so far, how can you even reach me in case of danger?"
With a dash, Kazuha vanished from his sight. The next thing he knew was that the man stood behind him, plucking a maple leaf off his shoulder. "What were you saying?" he teased.
Tomo had no choice but to admit defeat. Kazuha sure knew how to move, and if he still harbored any doubts concerning his safety, he had swiped them all away in the span of a single movement.
To keep his face, Tomo merely tch'd at his display of reflexes, and walked ahead of him, dead silent. He couldn't deny that his heart skipped a beat, his skin pulsating where they had touched. But he shoved that idea deep down the abyss of his mind, refusing to acknowledge its existence.