Archive of Our Own

Taichi clumsily lunges, somehow stretching far and fast enough to thwart a sliding pillow’s escape attempt. His cold body thoroughly protests the motion and with it he begins to regret his past self’s declaration that he can carry two bedrolls, blankets, and pillows all in one trip. But he’s never been a quitter and anyway he grew up in these halls, he doesn’t need to be able to see to know where he’s going. 

Just as he readies himself to round the corner, his left foot makes contact with something hard and terrifyingly warm. The precariously balanced tower of bedding topples, freeing his line of sight and revealing a shadowy crouched figure blocking most of the hallway, “Ban-chan??” to his relief, Taichi’s voice comes out a hoarse croak rather than the panicked shriek still ringing in his mind. 

“Shhh,” Banri lifts his head but doesn't stand from the squat he's crouched in. Even in the dimly lit hall, Taichi can see the focus dancing in Banri’s narrowed eyes. He jams a thumb in the direction of the door to Taichi’s bedroom that’s been left open just a crack, “Listen.” 

It takes Taichi a couple of seconds to hear anything over the persistent pounding of rain on the roof and wind in the trees. Once he locks on to it though, he immediately places the low calming drone as Juza’s voice. 

“...As cocky as he was, the Dragonslayer knew he would not survive the night in the wilderness. Not on his own. And with his pride, he could-”

A crack of thunder shakes the whole house. 

Taichi stops just short of literally jumping out of his slippers but it’s not enough to keep the flashlights stuffed in his back pockets from adding to the commotion and clattering to the floor. 

It’s also enough to shake Banri from his dazed state and he moves to help Taichi gather all the scattered supplies 

“How long were you listening?” Taichi teases. 

“Shuttup,” Banri retaliates with what, in the dim light Taichi would call a light-hearted pout. Before they can debate the details of his expression, Taichi’s bedroom door flies open, bashing the air in the place Banri’s head was just seconds before. 

In the doorway stands Masato who is supposed to be in his own bed in his own room where Taichi left him tucked in some minutes ago. He looks at Taichi guilty for approximately 0.3 seconds before it morphs into a preteen’s best approximation of nonchalance, “Nii-chan?” 

“Maa-kun!” Taichi scrambles to his feet. He tries his best to wait patiently for further explanation from Masato but quickly gives in and ruffles his brother’s hair, “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” 

Immediately, Masato’s chest puffs out, an act of bravado that’s all too familiar to Taichi, “I-I wasn’t scared! Mii-chan went looking for you and I only went after her 'cause I thought she might be scared!” 

Taichi will freely admit that he was overly ambitious when he assured their moms that getting his siblings to bed without them home would be easy. But the storm is just as loud as it is sudden and so he can forgive the kids for being a little jumpier than normal.

Trying hard to pretend like has the same excuse and it’s not the company getting to him, Taichi bends down to scoop up the fallen bedding and without warning deposits it all into Banri’s arms, “Hold this.” 

“Ehh?” Banri protests but obeys anyway. 

“Come on,” Taichi motions for Banri to follow him as he nudges Masato back into his room, “Everything okay in here?” 

“Onii-chan!” a roughly Mirai-sized lump of blankets on the bed shifts, “Juza-san was telling us a story!” her face barely peeks out from the shelter of her blanket fort but her enthusiasm radiates off her in waves. 

Juza, already standing like he always does when he’s found in places he thinks he might not be allowed, stiffens, eyes darting around like he’s been accused of some crime, “Just somethin’ I made up...” 

Banri gives a quiet scoff but when Juza doesn’t bite just lets it go. He knocks easily against Taichi’s shoulder and Taichi revells in the casual affection, “Taichi. You want these here?” 

Suddenly far less confident than he was 20 seconds ago, Taichi stammers before managing to form a sentence. It’s not that he doesn’t want Banri and Juza to spend the night in his room, it’s more that until a couple hours ago it wasn’t even something that he considered happening. Even if he has his little siblings as buffer, somehow this feels more intimate than the dorms or the hotels on tour, “I mean, you guys don’t have to stay in my room. If Mii-chan is staying with mean you can use her room-” 

“Oi,” Banri hits him again, slightly harder this time, “Relax.” 

While Taichi gets back down on his hands and knees to help  Banri lay out the spare bedding, Masato slips past both of them but stops to fidgets in the doorway, “If Mii-chan is staying here, then I can go back to my room?” he says somewhere between a statement and a question. 

“If you want to,” Taichi agrees with quick mental sibling math, “The storm might let up soon.”

Masato visibly wilts at the agreement with his own suggestion. He stares in halfhearted challenge at Taichi, who finds it remarkably difficult to stay with the bit for even just a few seconds. Somewhere to his left, Mirai gives a contented sigh, and Masato relents, “Maybe I should stay too...just in case...” 

“Go get your blankets,” Taichi laughs. He’s always considered himself lucky to have grown up with a sizable room all to himself but with all five of them in here it’s finally getting to show it’s worth, “We should all try to get to sleep soon.”

Faster than even the winds outside, Masato scrambles out of the room and down the hall. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Taichi swears he catches an approving smile from Juza. Ever since Taichi brought Juza and Banri home for the day, Mirai and Masato have both been persistently pulled to Juza’s side by a force they almost don’t seem to notice. 

There’s still a sense of novelty to them whenever Banri walks into a room. A present that keeps its shine far longer than the rest. But they hardly even treat Juza like a guest anymore, it’s like to their minds he’s just always been one of them. 

“What about the story?” Mirai protests, “I’m not sleepy yet,” she insists, rubbing at her eyes and punctuating each sentence with a half-stifled yawn. 

“Taichi. Why don’t you read ‘em one?” 

“Ah! Okay?” as he automatically turns to his bookshelf, Taichi realizes at some point in the years since he moved into the dorms, the rest of his childhood books and toys were redistributed to Mirai and Masato “Ban-chan can you go-”

“No!” Everyone in the room jolts in surprise as Masato stomps impatiently. He puts his own bedding down next to Banri’s with unnecessary force, “We wanna know how Juza-san’s story goes!” 

Juza twists away but not fast enough to completely hide the blush on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but this lighthearted embarrassment is different from the heavy shame he wore so much in the first year after they met, “I was just buyin’ time till Taichi got back... But it’s fine,” in the middle of gazing at Taichi, his entire body suddenly straightens as if he’s abruptly remembered where he is. With only the subtlest of glances back towards Banri he softly clicks his tongue, “Or, Maybe I should read ‘em somethin’ else...”.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Taichi promises, “What about The Dog that Ate the World? Mama used to read that to me every night! It’s a classic!” 

Mirai and Masato stare with matching unimpressed expressions but it’s Banri who scoffs, “What are you? Some kinda coward? Just finish the story.” 

The experience of years of living with Banri flashes as Juza doesn’t give a single centimeter to the intrusion of his personal space, “Thought you didn’t like fairy tales?” 

“I won’t know if it’s a good story or not till you tell the fu-f-fudging thing!” 

“Then shut up and sit down,” as soon as he breaks eye contact with Banri, Juza’s entire expression shifts, “Um,” he stammers, “I was, uh, talkin’ about the...Dragonslayer in the village, right?” 

Simultaneously, Masato nods, but Mirai shakes her head, “Wait!” she presses, “You gotta start over for onii-chan and Ban-chan!” 

“Ah,” Juza hesitates and though there’s visibly anxious dread behind his eyes, he bows his head in friendly deference to Taichi. 

“Mii-chan...” Taichi sighs, trying to avoid the trap of looking into her shining eager eyes. It’s nearly midnight now but the storm still rages and it’s clear that despite her exhaustion, Mirai still isn’t going to sleep on her own accord. Taichi searches for a way to get Juza out, but the day is catching up to him and ultimately he can only offer an apologetic shrug, “Only if you’re up for it?” 

“Sorry,” Juza mutters, an old habit rearing its head before he can catch it. Taichi shakes his head, refusing not the apology, but the need for it. Juza catches it and something behind his eyes settles. He consults the window for a long few seconds, somehow seeing something beyond the pitch-black sky, “Ah.” he starts, turning back to the eager expressions of Mirai and Masato, “The beginning...

Once upon a time.

There was a Village where flowers always bloomed. This eternal garden was watched over for years and years by its caring leader. 

Then, one day, the caring leader vanished. The era of prosperity ended, not in a night, but slowly withered over the following years. 

As the flowers died, the village grew quieter and quieter before slipping away into obscurity. Other neighboring villages and towns tried to carry the flower’s legacy, but ultimately, they each were consumed by the power of the God’s Tyrant Ruler and his Chosen Prince of the Grand Kingdom. 

It stayed that way for quite some time, until a woman was called upon to lead a rebellion and restore what was lost. Her garden started small, but she did what no one else had managed in this dark era and for the first time in years, flowers began to bloom again. 

But as she made friends, the Gardener also made enemies, and the God’s Tyrant of the not-so-far-off Kingdom turned his eye to the growing little Village.

Storms brewed unnaturally quickly and what could initially be called summer rain never left and instead began to bring monsters and a magical darkness that threatened the newly reborn village. 

The Gardener’s gathered allies were powerful in their own rights when it came to restoration. But none of them were fighters. The Knights that once devoted themselves to this very cause had long since vanished. Spread far and wide to who knows where and impossible to call back on a whim. 

She sent out a call for the strong and noble looking for a land to devote themselves to and a cause to fight for. The people said she needed an army but she knew better than to hope for that.  

She stood in her garden that day, waiting to see who would step up. When five strangers entered, only she could even begin to imagine what they would become-”

Juza sits empty-handed, pulling the story entirely from his mind, but as Taichi settles into a corner of his bed not occupied by Mirai, it’s as vivid as the pages of the books he would call for every night. 

Already, Taichi is entranced. He joins in Mirai and Masato’s childhood wonder in the security of another world far away from the stormy night just outside. He can see Banri fighting it, but Juza’s words are more powerful than they were overheard through a door. 

Even for the great Banri, it’s a losing battle to not devote his entire attention to Juza creating something right in front of them. 

One of the very first things Juza told them all about himself was that he wanted to be an actor because he wanted a chance to be someone else. 

That’s always been crazy to Taichi because he has always adored Juza, body, mind, and soul. He has been in awe of him since the fateful day they both walked into the theater. He has the build Taichi has dreamed of but he has never lifted a violent hand willingly. He’s strong, kind, and determined beyond pretty much anyone you’ll ever meet. Even in his darkest days, the only person he ever tried to change was himself. 

He took that pain to the stage and has become a remarkable actor. He seeks an understanding of each of his characters at the deepest level. But somehow until this moment, Taichi hasn’t completely put it all together. 

When Juza is a character, on stage as someone else, he’s telling their story. He gives the voice to tell their story in a way he wasn’t allowed to for the first many years of his life. What he wants is not actually to be someone else. What he wants is to be heard in his own words. He’s been a storyteller all along, so probably they shouldn’t even be surprised. 

Juza pauses with a steadying breath. He looks away from Mirai and Taichi follows his gaze to the wall where one of the original posters from Picaresque still hangs. He doesn’t look away as he begins to present the characters of his story. 

“The first to greet the Gardener was a Lumberjack . A tall and built young man with a comfortable grip on a hand axe and a variety of other bladed tools hanging around his waist but an overall relaxed and friendly demeanor. It was not hard to picture him as the heroic type, and he had helped the Gardener out with some previous favors in her rebuilding of the village so she was quick to look beyond the scars that littered his body, whispers of a more violent past. 

Nearly fully concealed behind him was a Stablehand . Easily the youngest and smallest of the group, he was also the most eager and genuine person there. While everyone else stood awkwardly around, he openly approached the Gardener with a bright style and a firm handshake from his well worn hands. He arrived unarmed and inexperienced in many areas but he somehow settled into the role the Gardener asked of him with ease and she knew right away how valuable he would be. 

In a far corner, an Oni stood, as still as he could manage. The rain didn’t bother him, but the more it fell the more he could feel people looking with suspicion at him and his family. He’d taken on a human form, that of a young man about the same age as the others but he’d always struggled to get it quite right. He folded his hands, hoping that would hide some of the wrongness, the harm they’d done, and maybe the Gardener would allow him to stay. When she smiled at him in her greeting, he felt himself finally exhale. 

Entering hot on the Oni’s trail was another young man and his reputation hand in hand. It took only seconds for him to be recognized not just a monsterslayer but as a Dragonslayer who single-handedly defeated the drake in the hills. For all of his accolades, he was remarkably reluctant to join the Gardener’s cause. He’d followed the Oni for days, tracking him all the way there with the intention of a fight, but when the Oni took his oath, the Dragonslayer immediately followed suit.

Last to arrive was a man who claimed no title but the Gardener almost immediately called a Knight . The sigil on the beautiful blade he carried, matched that of the murals all around them. He was noticeably older than the others but not nearly as old as he’d have you believe. Though he seemed reluctant, he stood in the Garden with a sense of familiarity and only managed to tear his gaze from the flowers to the Gardener. 

“Hey, now waitaminute-” Banri interrupts quickly after recognition hits his face. He shoots to his feet, slipping into aggression that has matured over the years but not dulled. 

The resemblance is striking, but the more Taichi thinks about it, as startling as it was, it’s not all that surprising. Juza loves his family above all else. But their troupe is almost always part of that family. 

Taichi thinks it’s hard for anyone to love the autumn troupe more than he does but he also knows that they’re never far from Juza’s mind. Maybe they simply think more similarly than Banri does but it’s easy for Taichi to imagine Juza reaching into his mind for characters and found the first suggestions to be thinly veiled versions of their troupe. The only really surprising part is there only being five of them, Mirai luckily not quite enough in the loop to call out Azami’s absence. 

“Shhhh!” Masato tugs at Banri’s dangling sleeve with deceptive aggression. Banri’s instincts yank to pull away but even his superhuman abilities aren’t enough to get him away from the pleading gaze of a grade schooler. 

Just like that, the invincible Settsu Banri vanishes, and a slightly uncomfortable 20-year-old just sinks back onto the ground next to Masato. “Go on,” he gruffly prompts. 

Juza exhales a sharp breath that says he doesn’t take orders but continues anyway. 

“Although her hopes for their potential were high, the Gardener knew she couldn’t just send these five souls off to face a powerful Spellcaster in another land with no guidance or protection. Instead, she was patient and gave them a different task to start nurturing them toward that potential. 

Along with the dangerous nights and the dreary days, a magical darkness was beginning to seep into the creatures of the forest around the village. A pack of dozens of previously fairly docile wolves fell to corruption and day by day grew more aggressive towards the newly returned townsfolk. 

The Gardener had her first test for her new troupe. If she was right about the spark inside them, it would be no trouble for them to free the poor creatures from their torment and make her village a safer place once again. 

The wolves themselves were small for monsters but the malevolent magic that was taking over them made them more than a fair match for the average townsperson. 

Armed with enchanted weapons left behind by the previous generation’s knights, the newborn guard took to the forest to show what they were capable of. 

The Knight, the only one to already possess an enchanted weapon, took to the front, wielding his blade with an elegant grace so recognizable that it almost took the Gardener back to the days of her youth when the village was still in bloom and protected by an entire troupe of folks just like him. 

Just a few strides behind him, the Lumberjack fought with natural strength that shocked no one but impressed everyone. What was surprising was when he bent down to help an injured young boy hiding in the bushes and not only carried him to safety but closed the wounds with a gentle healing touch. The warmth of his magic was enough to make most people overlook just how practiced he was swinging his axe at creatures decidedly more alive than trees. 

The deadliness of the Dragonslayer’s lance lived up to the stories that were already spreading but the person who seemed least impressed by his abilities was himself. He moved almost lazily, wasting no energy to chase the creatures down or try to slow them before delivering a single decisive strike knocking the magic out of each. He’d never met a test he couldn’t ace, and though no one could see it, there was no one more disappointed than him that this one was proving no different. 

By contrast, the Oni fought with an unrivaled focus. He stepped to targets before they could even think to move toward him. Though he fought with only his hands, nothing would get past him. No one would be hurt except him and these creatures that would target the innocent if not stopped. Even as he fought in his human form, limiting both his power and the whispers that would be spread, he kept his back to the civilians, keeping the distraction of their fear as out of sight as he could.

The most surprising, by a landslide, was the Stablehand. He had little experience with any weapon but he jumped into the fight anyway and held to the bow granted to him with incredible tenacity. More than that, he was fast, and while he rarely made contact with the wolves, they made even less contact with him, making him a natural at controlling the herd and keeping them in range of the more comfortable combatants. The Gardener quietly thought for someone who had no experience with magic, he was a little too good at being in the exact spots where the magic wasn’t.

-”

As he listens, it strikes Taichi that Juza describes fighting in the same way Tsuzuru writes years of yearning. With a familiarity that’s not quite comfortable and yet seems to fit just right. 

The Autumn troupe is never going to win any awards for being the most eloquent with their words so people don’t really think about it, but it’s not hard for Taichi to reason that Juza, their literature major, is actually their best storyteller. Banri has an absurdly advanced vocabulary that he flexes only when he feels like it and Azami has a natural feel for rhythm and rhyme but Juza can tell stories. 

It’d be easy for an outsider to say this doesn’t sound like Juza at all. It’s certainly far from how he talks in casual conversation. It’s wordier for starters, and he’s far more precise with his enunciation, but he does both of those things on stage fairly regularly. 

This is more than that. This is not just putting on a different accent for a character. Taichi may not know much, but he knows language is more than just choosing words and stringing them together. There’s importance in the placement and structure that go into creation. 

Juza has created a fairy tale, a fantasy story whimsical in nature and setting and innocent enough for children to follow. But it’s told by someone who has never been violent in nature and yet for many years has known much of mankind primarily by the destructive side shown to him. 

He uses very little dialogue as he continues to describe each of the five distinct characters taking out the pack of wolves, and yet Taichi hears so much from them in the way each slash and dodge is described that it feels like he’s conversed with each of them personally and can hear their voices in his head. 

There’s something unexplainably intimate about getting so invested in a perspective twist that comes from someplace so personal to the storyteller that warms Taichi from the inside out in a way he hasn’t felt since the sudden chill of the storm blew in.

“To save the village from the wrath of the unnatural storms they needed to go to the source. Such powerful magic was rare but not unheard of and all signs were pointing directly to the capital where the God’s Tyrant had gathered almost all of the land’s greatest magic users and amplified their power even greater by the grace of the deity he served. 

To break the spell, bring back the seasons, and save the bloom of the village, the newly formed troupe would need to venture where few were allowed to go. 

While loyalty was somewhat difficult to come by, fear was not and so the God’s Tyrant had eyes and ears all over the continent earning him control over roads in territories that didn’t even belong to him. 

Their fighting abilities would help them deal with the monsters along the way but it likely wouldn’t be enough to get them close enough to take out the Spellcaster. 

The God’s Tyrant was building the perfect land for his deity. A land that was beautiful, but only for the worthy. No one he didn’t trust was allowed to cross his borders. A group as eclectic and unpolished as theirs would never get even a glimpse of where the Spellcaster might be hiding. 

So the newborn troupe took on new names and a collective identity as a group of revered Carpenters, heading toward the capital for work, and took to the dangerous roads with a mission on the mind, pretending like they knew much more than they did.

Though she did most of the heavy lifting in creating the cover story for them, the Gardener could clear a path straight to the capital for them. Instead she put a mysterious letter in their hands and sent them off on foot to reach a bigger town where she hoped a former friend would be willing to help take them the rest of the way. 

The first day or so of travel was quiet. On the second day, they reached the point the townspeople refused to cross, and part of the reason their weapons came with them even in their disguises. 

The bridge across the roaring river was guarded by a…basilisk?” Juza frowns, “No a-” 

“An ogre!” Masato clarifies. “They were all so busy trying not to look at the creature’s eyes while fighting it they kept getting in each other’s way. It wasn’t lack of ability that nearly cost them the fight, it was lack of trust and cooperation.” 

“Ah, Right,” Juza nods. He falls quiet in a moment of contemplation, rearranging words on a page visible only to him. He takes a silent cue from Masato and Mirai and slips right back in, “While they proved themselves taking on individual opponents, fighting against just one enemy forced the-”

“Ban-chan?” Mirai shyly interrupts, “Have you always been a good team player?

“Have I-” Banri repeats with remarkable stoicism, “Have I always been a good team player?” 

Juza finds less success in muting his reaction but is at least able to disguise it behind a coughing fit that leaves him hunched over and turned away from Mirai’s earnest nature.

“When you play as Gold you go on team missions, right? You have to fight as one!” 

As much as Mirai adores Azami, Taichi suspects it will still be a hot minute before anyone replaces Banri as the coolest person in the world to her. They’ve seen him do everything Taichi works tirelessly at, and he’s a sentai hero on the side. 

Every time they look at him they have to devote their entire attention to him because there’s almost too much to take in. But somehow this is different. Mirai’s curiosity feels more personal. Like she’s seeing Banri as a person rather than a concept. A person with strengths and weaknesses. In the way she already accepts Juza so wholeheartedly, Banri has now become a person she wants to know, to understand. 

It shows a level of awareness in her that Taichi is proud of, but a level of maturity that he’s not sure he’s ready for his baby sister to be growing to. Beyond all of that, it also shows a level of ‘Banri in his personal life’ness that he definitely needs time to process. 

He knows he loves Banri and Juza. That has not been in question for a very, very long time. He even knows that he loves them differently from how he loves the rest of the company. Most of the time it doesn’t matter. But as they’re here now, with his biological family, it hits him that he really doesn’t know where they’re going in the grand scheme of things. 

Taichi turns to Banri, curious if he’s noticed the shift as well. Instead, he just finds Banri not shying away and hiding a soft smile as he thinks. Taichi’s heart turns in his chest as he sees how warm and authentic it is even as he’s clearly buying time. 

It’s unusual for Banri to be hesitant about answering a question. His normal energy is he either answers right away or refuses just as quickly. There’s little in between. But Banri weighs the truth in his mind long enough to really make sure everyone’s curiosity is fully steeped before playfully lightly clicking his tongue, “Ah. You know, I guess it’s hard to learn how to be on a team until you have one. So maybe, there was quite a bit of learnin’ to do. But hey, it’s all worth it to be a hero, yeah?” 

The word hero catches Juza’s attention but he just watches quietly, notably contemplative. 

“Well, I think heroes are the types of kids who go to bed when their big brother tells them too, so they’re well-rested when the people need them,” Taichi teases.

“Yeah Maa-nii,” Mirai immediately turns on Masato with a level of imaginary supremacy that only the innocence of youth can make endearing. 

Completely caught off guard by the bold statement, Juza, Banri, and Taichi fall into matching peels of laughter.

Understandably less amused, Masato recovers more quickly and manages to snag a pillow from right under Taichi’s arms. Thankfully, he uses only a fraction of his strength as he swings it at his little sister, “Shut up.” 

Even with just the light smack, Mirai flops back against the bed with an outraged shriek, preparing for retaliation.  

Just in time to prevent a pillow fight from breaking out, another usually heavy crack of thunder vibrates around the room. Mirai whimpers and sinks into Taichi’s side. 

Approaching from his other side, Banri leans over Taichi to peer past Juza out the window, “It’s not lettin’ up out there,” he observes, breathing right into Taichi’s ear. 

Not even looking, Juza pulls the curtain shut, “Why don’t I skip ahead a little bit? Clearly, we all already understand the importance of that fight.” 

No one protests, though Taichi suspects that within the group it’s a mix of eagerness to move ahead and the exhaustion that they’re all still denying catching up. But the details don’t matter and Juza doesn’t get caught up in the why as he turns imaginary pages and opens a new chapter.

“After defeating the ogre all the smaller creatures that might have dared to step in their way turned tail and fled. The unexpected peace should have allowed the troupe to relax slightly. They should have been able to iron out the details of their plan. 

 But the Dragonslayer was unimpressed. He was promised adventure. He only agreed to join the others because the Gardener promised him it would be an experience worth living. So far there was only one interesting fight but a whole lot of trudging through muddy roads and hoping for the best,

Not exactly the start he was looking for in terms of saving the village. Worse still, none of the others seemed to mind. They took pitching a tent and reading a map just as seriously as they did slaying monsters, no matter that no one would ever tell stories about them now. 

He needled relentlessly at the others’ sides. If the monsters wouldn’t fight them, at least he knew a few other people competent enough to be fun in a fight. 

‘If you really wanna take down the Tyrant, why bother hidin’ your horns and powers? Just walk up to the front gate and take him out. Why force the rest of us to witness you pretendin’ to be human?’

Try as he might, the Oni was not as friendly as the Stablehand or as patient as the older Knight and Lumberjack. He had no prepared answer to give. He had no way to explain that couldn’t move the clouds as easily as his mother. He wasn’t his younger brother who never concealed his horns and the other kids would come on the regular to wish on them. It was he alone who could not stop his powers from causing destruction and bringing hate to those who had never done anything wrong. 

If he was going to do this. If was going to be the hero he’d only ever dreamed of being, he was going to do it right. But there was no way to explain that to the Dragonslayer who already had everything. So he fell right into the childish trap. 

As soon as the Dragonslayer could tell he was getting a reaction, he lost focus on the greater mission at hand. He was following the Oni in the first place anyway, but he’d somehow never been fast enough to get his lance past the Oni’s hands. 

The persistent arguing between the two was enough of a distraction that no one noticed when they strayed from the path marked on the Stablehand’ map. By the time the sun rose on the fifth day and they prepared to break camp, they were faced with the horrifying truth that there was not a single familiar landmark in sight. 

Immediately, the Dragonslayer turned on the Oni, but somehow, even faster than his instincts, the Stablehand got between them, incredibly able to push them both back just long enough for the Lumberjack to pry the Dragonslayer away. 

As they were forced to take a breath, the younger four all readied themselves for a lecture from the Knight. But instead, when they looked to their left, they found him digging through a bag he’d quietly taken from the Gardener before they left. 

When he found what he was looking for, he wordlessly marched over and handed a box to the Oni and a single gold thread to the Dragonslayer. 

The Oni and the Dragonslayer glared at each other, silently daring each other to be the first to ask what was going on. Just as the Stablehand stepped forward to do it for them, the Knight began to explain with his typical exasperation. 

‘Magic thread. Think of it as a compass of sorts. If you don’t drop or break it, it should lead us where we need to go’

The Lumberjack whistled a single impressed note as he watched the thread light up in the Oni’s hand. The others did not seem to share the same sentiment. 

‘Eh? How are we supposed to fight holdin’ on to this thing?’ 

‘Forget fightin’, I don’t even wanna walk this close to this guy!’ 

‘I expect you’ll figure it out, though the details are hardly my problem’ 

‘You can’t do this to us, I’m in charge here.’

To no one’s surprise, the glowing thread slowed the group’s already hindered progress to nearly a crawl. Stronger than an average thread, but not by much, the monster and the dragonslayer could stand not even a full arm’s length apart before being hit by the pulse of the magic threatening to snap.

“Seems an awful lot like handcuffs,” Taichi teases, as Juza pauses, catching his breath. Suddenly, Azami’s conspicuous absence isn’t so glaring. This isn’t just any story that Juza has put them in. They’re not characters replacing others in a story. He has, for some reason or another, picked theirs. 

Impossibly, it’s been years since they joined the company and things that used to replay fresh daily in Taichi’s mind have become just memories. 

“Ough,” Banri groans, letting his head thunk against the wall behind him like the realization physically pains him, “Tell me he’s wrong.” 

Juza pointedly doesn’t answer.  But even as he ignores them, there’s no hostility to it. Rather it almost feels like a deliberate opening left naturally for them to fill. Like he’s sharing this story and they’re living it with him. 

The satisfaction scratches something in Taichi’s brain and he grins widely, “I bet the Knight also made the Dragonslayer and Oni share a tent.” 

“Now that’s jus’ cruel,” Banri laughs. 

Juza ignores him as well. 

“He did,” Masato confirms, “He thought it would force them to tolerate being in the same spaces but it wasn’t enough.” 

“Yeah,” Taichi chuckles, “Sounds about right.” 

“Anyway,” Juza stresses, “ At first it seemed like the thread would only break the tentative truce the group formed before they could make it to civilization.

While the Oni and the Dragonslayer struggled to complete the most basic of tasks under the judgmental eye of the Knight, the Lumberjack offered the Stablehand help trying to consult the maps to understand where the thread was leading them. 

The Stablehand refused the offer, choosing instead to work quietly on his own.

When a bird flew too close to his face, he barely even looked to see where it came from or where it went. When a second followed suit, he waved it away impatiently but watched close enough to catch just a glint of something not natural glowing in its eyes. By the third, he could tell what was wrong but he didn’t act until the fourth came in with even more possessed aggression. 

‘Look out!’ he called out just as the darkness-infected bird dove past him and toward the others struggling to march ahead. 

The Oni and the Dragonslayer both leaped with natural agility, but that split second of forgetting about the thread was enough. They jumped in opposite directions, and the thread gave way. 

The Dragonslayer cried out, realizing their mistake before they even hit the ground. But as he looked to his right hand, the thread was still glowing. He tightened his grip as he searched for the other end. 

Instead of meeting eyes with the Oni, he instead found himself face-to-face with the Stablehand. The thread had indeed snapped, but the Stablehand had it grasped in each hand, holding together what was supposed to be broken. 

The inflected birds continued to circle, feathers raining down ominously. The Lumberjack picked up the Stablehand’s bow and quiver, while the Knight made wide swings with his sword, and even in their impaired state, many of the birds could sense enough danger to flee. 

But one particularly bold creature dove and wove between them all, nipping violently at the defenseless Stablehand’s neck before snatching a bag by the strap with a frightening amount of intention behind it. With a desperate single-handed swing of his lance, the Dragonslayer nicked one wing before the bird darted off.

“What did it steal? The Oni’s bag of sweets?” Banri lightly teases as he relaxes forward to rest his arms on his curled knees. 

Taichi hears himself laugh along but barely registers it. It’s not like Juza was giving a one-to-one exact retelling of events as they happened but this is still startling. He knows what happened to the poor guy who robbed their director in front of Banri and Juza. He’s heard it told from no fewer than three perspectives but as much as it feels like it sometimes, he knows he wasn’t there. He was hiding. 

But maybe the inclusion of the Stablehand here has nothing to do with his resemblance to Taichi. After all, Taichi knows he tends to swing wildly between under and overthinking things. With hindsight, it’s easy, if not embarrassing to tell the two apart but that doesn’t make the not knowing in the moment any easier. 

He looks to Juza, and most of the anxiety in his chest is replaced by curiosity that he supposes must be rooted in deep trust. 

Still linked, the three ran as one as the distance between them and the wounded bird closed, the physical and magical pull of the thread threatening to snap seemed to disappear. 

The Oni and the Dragonslayer who only minutes before had seemed as though they’d never move together, were held together by the Stablehand between them who refused to let go despite the blood continuing to drip down his body. 

It wasn’t their first time facing a common enemy, and yet somehow when the Dragonslayer finally purged the darkness from the final bird’s body, it was as if they were fighting together for the first time. 

In the heat of the moment, there was no room for posturing or shields for self-defense. No time to bicker or complain. When faced with the only options to succeed or fail together, they did what they had to and the truth came out. 

In that moment of victory, when they first looked at each other, there was a clarity and honesty in what they saw that was never there before. Knowing what they had done and knowing what they felt as they did it, they saw each other not just as they were, but as they could be one day. 

The Gardener believed in them right after she met them and now, they too understood why. It was the most thrilling and the most terrifying truth they could have faced. 

They reunited with the Knight and the Lumberjack, and though not one of the Dragonslayer, Oni, or Stablehand spoke a word explaining what happened, the Knight granted them the first genuine smile any of them had seen from him.

Not long after, the thread’s magic flickered and went out but by that point it had done its job. They found the road and from the road, the way to town was clear. No more searching and hoping, they were finally in sight of what they were supposed to do next. 

As the five former strangers sat around the fire that night, there was something different in all of their eyes as they shared another quiet meal. 

“And with that new hope, they went to defeat the Spellcaster, right?” Banri guesses, a little too deliberately to be natural. As far as Taichi can tell, he’s not quite nervous but he’s trying to pull strings to keep it that way. 

“A-” Juza starts. 

“Not yet,” Mirai corrects, “They’ve only just begun learning. It’s not done yet!” 

“I know, I know,” Banri keeps his tone light but it doesn’t completely conceal the tiredness behind it. His eyes flick to Taichi for only a fraction of a second before he almost perfectly copies what Taichi did earlier and ruffles the top of her head, “Right as always Mii-chan.” 

Mirai smiles easily back but Taichi doesn’t miss Masato subtly reaching for Banri’s hand and even more incredibly, Banri not pulling away. 

Juza must notice it too as while he pauses while preparing to set the next scene, he folds his own hands in his lap. 

Upon arriving in the Town, the troupe was welcomed amicably if not with a little bit of suspicion among the curiosity. 

They delivered the letter from the Gardener to an Innkeeper, a man who once helped lead the flower village who shook their hands with an approving eye but refused to send them on their way just yet. 

‘You did well to make it this far but that won’t be enough. To reach this point you didn’t have to believe all this,’  he gestured emphatically towards the bags they lugged that represented their fake craft, ‘But once you head toward the capital, the guards will be able to spot your lies from over the hills. You’re too guarded. You don’t even know each other, it’s clear you have ulterior motives. If you’re not willing to put your entire self into this, then there’s no place for you in this cause. Spend the night here at the inn, talk to the people, and see how they live. In the morning, if you’re ready with your whole being, then I’ll take you to the border.’

It was an odd request or test or whatever it was. But they could not deny they still had their concerning shortcomings. Without their weapons at the ready, none of them seemed able to replicate the unspoken understanding they found in battle.

At the end of the day, what the Innkeeper was saying made sense, they all claimed they wanted to do good. Good by the Gardener, good for the people. But the only times they ever proved how much they meant it was with their weapons when there was serious physical danger. As they were, how could they be sure that at the first guard that questioned them they wouldn’t immediately abandon each other?

The Stablehand quickly slipped away, finding a quiet conversation in a corner but the rest of the troupe thought little of it. He was easily the most social of them after all, it seemed entirely possible that trust came as naturally to him as breathing. 

The others hesitated, somewhat at a loss as to what mingling among the people could possibly prove. But it was also tempting, after so many years of protecting themselves, to get to start over, to be honest, not in name or trade but in who they were underneath and why they had come all this way. 

If they couldn’t spend an honest night among the townspeople, could they really believe themselves to ever be their heroes?

With only a little bit of encouragement from other patrons, the Knight made himself comfortable at the bar, and just a drink or two later he found himself reaching for years of his youth he thought he’d lost. 

Never good at staying still, the Lumberjack found himself in the kitchen, lending a helping hand to a harried-looking cook trying to balance the work of two people on her own. 

The Oni stood outside for an extra few minutes, just long enough for the Innkeeper’s two small children who snuck out their bedroom window to scramble behind him when a griffin swooped by overhead. As his horns and claws slipped out while he postured away any other creatures that would do the children harm, they clung to him, still more frightened of the world than of him and his confidence grew more than ever before. 

The Dragonslayer alone refused the call entirely. He told himself that it wasn’t that he couldn’t prove his true intentions, that it was more that he’d never had to before. He’d hunted monsters before, he was above all of this. 

He’d held a sword since before he could walk, and with it he earned respect and honor. He’d never been without admiration or power, and to his family that was always enough. 

When he accepted the title of leader of this little troupe, he assumed that would still be the case. The others could pour their hearts out, befriend everyone in this town and they’d still be nothing compared to him. 

Instead he found an unfamiliar feeling. He’d been searching for a fight that would be a challenge for years. He thought being on the wrong end of a blade would be thrilling, but this, this was just suffocating. 

For the first time since he was first handed a sword years and years before, it was starting to feel like he might not be the hero he was told he would always be. 

He’d been taught a great many things as a child and he’d excelled at all of them. But no one ever told him how to face that which he couldn’t do. 

Hoping for the world to somehow right itself, the Dragonslayer spent the first half of the night wandering the streets, ignoring the rain slamming down on him. By the time he passed the Stablehand for the third time, he was pretty sure he was ready to make up his mind. 

This was no place for him. If the others wanted to struggle for it, that was fine, but everything was good for him when he was on his own, so it was time to pack it up and hit the road. 

“That’s not what happened,” Banri snaps, his previous grip on his casual demeanor gone. He hasn’t quite reached anger but he’s fresh out of patience. His right hand tightens into a fist while his left clings to Masato, who leans forward against his own knees with interest. 

“Eh?” Juza blinks blankly a couple of times, almost like it takes a few seconds for him to recognize his surroundings. Every sentence he tells of his story seems to pull him further away from them and he turns to face the accusation with a hard-set yet puzzled tip of his head, “Whaddaya mean?” 

“I mean-” Banri leans forward, eyes flashing with typical eager confrontation. But he must catch the way Masato slinks slightly away from him or the soft startled cry Mirai gives and for an ever so brief second, the helplessness wipes his bravado away leaving just a glance of genuine vulnerability. 

Despite not having a clue as to what he wants to say, Taichi opens his mouth, “It’s okay,” he promises even though he doesn’t quite get it yet. It’s not a lie, and it’s not even just out of obligation to be ‘the peacekeeper’, his place has always been between them. It doesn’t scare him anymore and it certainly doesn’t bother him, to fit so naturally into this space. He doesn’t have the exact answer but he says it’s okay because, at the end of the day, it always is with all three of them.  

As Juza reaches out, his hand knocks against Taichi’s shoulder and for a second Taichi panics that he was completely wrong. But the hand brushes against his chest, crossing just over his heart before stretching past him and resting on Banri’s chin. Juza turns Banri’s face to be straight onto his. He matches the intensity of Banri’s fiery stare but the energy behind it is calm and focused. 

He takes a single breath that both Banri and Taichi find themselves following, “Let me tell the story, ‘kay? Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Banri holds his posture straight but his voice lowers to barely more than a whisper. He twists free of Juza’s grasp but when he finds Taichi to his side, drops his gaze away from him too. 

“It is Juza-san’s story,” Taichi reasons, “We should probably listen.” 

“Not just my story,” Juza mutters, “it’s our-” 

Thunder again. Loud enough that even Juza flinches. By the time the room settles back down, whatever thought he was trying to capture has slipped away. He gazes at Banri for a few seconds, but his eyes unfocus and he stares straight through him before his chin falls, nearly to his chest. 

“The Dragonslayer’s pride would have had him slip away into the night. But even in the despair of the moment, he knew better than to just throw his life away to the monsters. So instead he decided to wait till morning, and while the rest of the troupe finished gathering everything, he would leave on his own.

But the night was longer than he anticipated and before the sun even started to show, what he expected to feel right continued to feel more and more wrong. 

He walked the entire perimeter of the inn over and over again until he could see a perfect recreation in his mind. He didn’t even need to close his eyes to see the Knight reasserting the vow he’d learned as a child, the Lumberjack sharpening a kitchen knife long abandoned and giving it impossibly gently to the widower it now belonged to.  He couldn’t escape the Stablehand’s serious expression lighting up with a smile, or the way the Oni never left the kids’ side. 

So it was true then. They really did want to live truly as the heroes the Gardener was urging them to be. Like really truly. Not just for the glory, not just they happened to be the people who were asked. Despite the fear and harm from their own pasts, they needed it to be clear that they were here because they wanted to be. 

As he watched these people he’d just started to get to know, give so much of themselves to strangers almost all he could feel was frustration. He thought they were too distracted to even be a fight but they’d gotten ahead of him when he wasn’t looking and he couldn’t stand for that. 

But he’d always wanted a fight where he ended up in a corner. And it was his first time, so maybe he could be forgiven for needing a couple hours to comprehend the situation. As he felt the Innkeeper’s intense gaze on his back, he finally understood, the only way not to lose would be to stay. Suddenly he wanted nothing more. 

If they wanted his whole being, they would get his whole being because he would not be left behind. He would not be defeated-

“Oi. Hyodo,” Banri interrupts, gripping Taichi’s wrist as he leans forward.   

“What?” Juza sighs, incredibly still patient, but only half at attention. 

Banri raises his chin, gesturing an unspoken challenge, yet this time he remains just as calm and level, “You’re leavin’ out an important part.” 

Maybe it’s the quiet giggles from Mirai and Masato or maybe Juza has just had enough, “hah?” 

Embracing his natural bravado, Banri rolls his shoulders back and slightly lifts his right hand, fingers curled to hold a hush over everyone else. Curious, Taichi looks to Juza, but there’s no increase in tension, and so he too, listens as Banri takes over. 

“Of course the Dragonslayer knew he was better. But that wasn’t all he wanted. He could leave with his knowledge but he’d never have anything more. 

The night was long, yes, but no one else seemed to notice. The more the Dragonslayer watched the others spend hours turning strangers into acquaintances, into something else, the more the greater picture started to come together. 

The thing he didn’t want to admit he didn’t have was a reason for all of this. As the other four struggled but tried to prove they belonged it was clear that there was a reason they wanted this. 

The Dragonslayer hated when other people had something he didn’t but he was truly at a loss. He’d come along because there was no reason he couldn’t. But somehow that, in of itself became enough. His reason for sticking out the dangerous and unknown became to find his reason. 

For so long he thought that a fight would show him despair and he’d finally understand the reason for living. But it was hope. It was hope that everyone fought for when they were at their worst and he was going to show that he had just as much as anyone else.”

In an impressive show of dexterity that could earn her a spot in the autumn troupe, Mirai bursts out of her blanket fort, somehow detangling herself from every “Wait- is this a love story?” 

“No!” Eyes just as comically wide, Banri answers first with his ever so slightly faster reflexes. 

“Well,” Juza adds just a fraction of a second but enough quieter that he clearly does not mean to be heard. Taichi catches it almost only because he can’t help but think it sounds more like something he’d say rather than Juza. 

Banri must hear it too, “It’s not,” he repeats without hesitation but the certainty seems to come less from a place of aggression and more that he genuinely had never considered another possibility. He looks away from Juza but turns to Taichi, silently consulting him with a level of respect and acknowledgment that still makes Taichi’s heart race every time. 

“It’s okay, A-chan isn’t here and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Taichi settles on winking mischievously at Banri before leaning in close to Mirai to watch the color on her cheeks change in real time. 

Biting on his lower lip to keep from laughing, Banri rolls his eyes, “Azami is on a date as we speak, he doesn’t get to say shi...shiitake about anythin’.” 

 “I hope he’s not still on his date right this moment,” As much as he’s still struggling to deal with being trapped and unable to return to the dorms, Taichi can’t even imagine what it would do to Azami. Restlessly, he checks his watch and finds officially the night is over and it’s a new day though the sun won’t even begin to show for hours. 

“You know Ban-chan?” Mirai starts, looking Banri straight in the eyes, “We know how to swear.” 

“Well,” Banri starts, twisting his entire torso to search the room for any kind of out, “ well .” 

“Don’t mind him,” Juza puts in, “He’s always sayin’ strange stuff. You just get used to it.” 

“ With their leader newly motivated, things started to move quickly for the new troupe. Though surprised, the Innkeeper kept his promise and along with supply and aid, he accompanied them in horse-pulled carts that allowed them to rest their feet. 

It could never be said for sure, if it was luck or the success of their cover but they it made to the outskirts of the capital in record time, arriving nearly a full day ahead of what the Gardener once predicted. 

As the group’s determination and energy grew, the Stablehand seemed to fade away as if all of their confidence was being siphoned off of him.

Not one member of the troupe missed his anxious fidgeting or the way he dreaded every step closer to their final destination. But as much as they had learned, they didn’t have the words to say anything. 

For so much of their adventure, he had kept them going, and so they owed it to him to try and pay it back. 

And ultimately, if it came to it, they had their weapons,-

Panic boils in Taichi’s chest. How could he forget that he did this? He’s spent literal years with the self-loathing born from his own bad decisions. How could he forget that this story of course leads to this place? 

No, that’s not right, he never forgot. He never forgot and maybe he never will. 

Maybe it’s not the fact that Juza is telling the story that’s the problem. The problem is that Mirai and Masato don’t know. They barely remember his Godza days in general. After all, they only saw him in a play or two and the moment they met anyone from Mankai they immediately forgot the names of anyone they might have known before. 

If he’s unlucky maybe they heard his muffled sobbing from when he came home and locked himself in their moms’ room but otherwise they don’t know much about how or why this new Nanao Taichi came to be. 

He’s known for a long time that he needs to tell them. That they’re old enough to deserve to know that he’s done something that should be unforgivable. 

“I’m going to uh...heat some water. Make some tea probably.” He pushes to his feet, ignoring the pins and needles from sitting so awkwardly for so long. He tries his best to avoid looking at Juza because the last thing in the world he wants is for Juza to think he’s upset with him but he finds himself instead staring directly in Juza’s eyes. 

Juza’s beautiful, triangular eyes offer no hurt but a quiet ask for understanding. When Taichi can’t quite offer it back, he doesn’t anger but bows his head and makes a promise that leaves Taichi breathless as he stumbles out of the room.

Taichi keeps his hand on the hall wall as he maneuvers his way down to the kitchen without turning any lights back on. He opens the first cabinet he finds and just buries his head inside with an exhausted groan. 

“If you’re looking for the kettle, it’s over here. Where you left it.” 

“Ban-chan!” Taichi jumps again, this time just barely avoiding catastrophe for two entire shelves of glassware. 

“Taichi,” Banri half sings yet somehow maintains a perfectly level composure.  

“I’m fine.” 

“Don’t remember saying you weren’t.” Banri lets the kettle fill in silence before slumping over the counter to face Taichi,  “Hyodo is a lotta things, but he ain’t cruel.”

It’s not like Taichi doesn’t believe it. Juza’s heart has been evident forever and Taichi has loved him since the day they first met. But it’s different coming from Banri. Banri who knows Juza more intimately than anyone else. 

Banri who has to keep pulling his sleeves up because Juza’s shirt is a little big on him but he’s just over the flu and Juza wasn’t about to stand for him being in wet clothes for a second longer still cannot explain exactly what they are but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

“I know.” Taichi promises, so that the few things he does know don’t get lost in the abyss of all that he doesn’t, “I just wasn’t prepared, I guess.” 

It’s surprising, because from where Taichi stands, Banri has been ready for pretty much everything always since forever, but he nods like he understands, “Look, I’ll never pretend like I know what he’s thinkin’, but,...” he pauses like he’s trying to play it off as irritation, but he’s either too tired to do it properly or Taichi can no longer be fooled. He opens his mouth, but when he makes eye contact with Taichi, snaps it shut, steps close enough for his breath to be warm on Taichi’s face,  “You saved my life, you know that right?”

To anyone else it may seem like nonsense,  but Taichi answers back exactly as he hears it, both automatic and genuine, “I love you.”

“Yeah,” Banri smiles. ‘I love you’, his lips spell out, and though he makes no sound, Taichi hears it loud and clear in his heart, “So y’know, whatever it is he’s tryin’ to say, I guess I might as well try to listen. And for what it’s worth, I think you should too.”

He trails off and when Taichi doesn’t fill the silence his eyes narrow with a flicker of irritation, but there’s still an easy comfort to his stance that’s more natural than it was even just a couple hours ago.  He believes what he’s saying. He believes what Juza has said to him. And beyond even that, he believes that Taichi needs to believe it. 

Taichi grabs the whistling kettle and fills a mug. He stirs and watches until the brewing leaves begin to settle before smiling again,  “I love him too.” 

Banri exhales a relieved smile, “I’m glad,” he waits and watches as Taichi heaps sugar into the tea and resumes stirring, “So, you with me?” 

“Of course.” 

Taichi leads the way back to his room, the warmth of Banri close at his back. As they slip back inside, they find Juza paused, not exactly as they left, waiting for them. His eyes show concern as they so often do, but there’s a gentle patience behind it that is so unique and caring that Taichi feels at ease sinking back into the spot he vacated. 

Taichi doesn’t ask what he missed and nobody offers an explanation, but with the way Mirai immediately scrambles back into his lap, he knows he’s always right to trust Juza with his siblings. 

And as Juza prepares to resume, Taichi also knows that Banri is right to make sure he hears the rest.

The night before the troupe prepared the final raid, no one got any sleep. Now in the eye of the storm, the air around them was eerily still and quiet but in the distance, the angry lightning lit the sky as bright as day. 

The Knight kept a watchful eye as the Dragonslayer tested his repaired blade in a spirited sparring match with the Oni. 

As tempting as it was to join them, the Lumberjack attempted to settle his nerves by carefully inventorying and repacking what remained of the rations granted to them by the Innkeeper.

He approached the Stablehand with a silent offering of just a slightly stale biscuit. When the younger didn’t even move to take it, he lowered himself down next to him preparing to ask what was wrong. 

He didn’t need to ask anything, the Stablehand spoke first, ‘It was me,’ he confessed. ‘I broke the thread. I got us lost. The spoiled food, the broken weapons, all of it. It’s all been me. There’s a trap waiting for us to walk into it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’

Hearing the increasingly desperate cries, the others stopped in their tracks and rushed over.

Once he started, the Stablehand couldn’t stop, down on his hands and knees, he told them everything, starting with the fact that while he born in the villages like he told them, more recently he had discovered his moderate affinity for magic and traveled to the capital seeking glory and honor for his family under the God’s Tyrant himself.

The work was trivial and the acknowledgment nonexistent but every day he passed by the Chosen Prince and amazed by that aura, he stuck it out and stuck it out. Finally, after months and months, a whisper of an opportunity had come his way and he leaped for it without any consideration. 

The rumor said that while it was hardly a threat as it was, rebellion was starting to brew and it needed to be stopped then and there. 

The Stablehand only spoke directly to the God’s Tyrant once, but he made it clear that his job was to stop them from stopping him. 

And that was how he found himself in the flower village on that fateful day. He joined their cause to stop it. But they all knew that things changed fast. And now he had no good options. He could not return to the God’s Tyrant a failure, and even if he didn’t show his face, there would be someone coming for his head within the day. But it was too late to turn back and not be forever branded as a traitor to the people’s greatest hope. 

The agony of the realization was felt by the others. They found that knowing something was wrong was not enough to prevent the pain of betrayal. 

It was the Dragonslayer who found his composure first. He drew his secondary sword and held it at arm's length toward the Stablehand, ‘Take it’, he commanded, tone cool and expression unreadable. Otherwise frozen, the Stablehand obeyed, taking the weapon but keeping the blade toward the ground. The Dragonslayer drew his lance, ‘Well?’ he asked, raising the tip toward Stablehand, ‘Make your decision.’

‘What are you doing?’ the Lumberjack cut in. 

‘Why did you hold on to the thread?’ the Dragonslayer asked instead, ‘You knew we’d break it on our own. You broke it, but you held on to it. You got us lost but you also got us found. You broke my sword but you saved his life. All those times you got in our way you also were there to clear it. Seems you fought for both sides. So which is it now? If you want to fight, I’ll take you, here and now. But if you don’t, you have to tell us. Make your decision.’ 

‘I’m with you. If you’ll have me. And I cannot ever ask you to trust me again, but I have an idea to get us through this.’

The Oni struggled to reconcile with the Dragonslayer’s suddenly forgiving heart. So many people had feared him with just one glance at his inhuman form. And now, he’d done the opposite, trusted somebody because his appearance was harmless. How could he ever forgive such a thing?

But he realized the Dragonslayer was also right, the Stablehand’s goodwill was not all fake, they’d proved it so because they took it to heart and it spirited them on. There was something else there, because even with him in their way they made it this far. From one desperate soul to another, he found a connection, and so, before their leader could respond, the Oni stepped forward, ‘Tell us.’ 

Just as Juza runs out of breath, Taichi remembers to breathe and they exhale heavy sighs in perfect unison. Laughing slightly, Taichi raises his hand for a high five, but before he can offer it, he catches the fatigue finally starting to set into Juza’s features and he instead swaps the nearly empty glass by Juza’s hand for the warm mug he’s been absent-mindedly gripping. 

“Thanks,” Juza mutters, looking between his and Taichi’s hands with a hint of amazement. 

“Can’t believe you’re drinkin’ that much sugar this late,” Banri shudders, “You’re insane for puttin’ Taichi through makin’ it for you.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Taichi promises, not just because he’ll never mind doing something asked of him, but beyond that, he truly hadn’t even thought about it until now. It’s more than just years of familiarity, but somehow the understanding of their desires finally falling into place. 

Mirai focuses on in on watching Juza’s drink with the loudest silence Taichi has ever heard from someone her age. Eventually, she solemnly looks up and searches for her oldest brother,  “Can I have tea onii-chan?” she curiously asks. 

“Are you thirsty?” Masato asks before Taichi gets the chance. 

Mirai glances around in hesitation but ultimately shakes her head, “No?” 

“Then no,” Taichi laughs, he picks up one of the blankets that have fallen from the remains of her fort. Wordlessly, Juza grabs the other end and aids in tucking her in. Taichi manages to stop himself from stealing Banri’s phone to snap a picture, “Mom and mama are already gonna be on me for how late we stayed up.” 

“Y’know, Mii-chan,” Banri leans in, and with an exaggerated whisper adds. “You can always say yes.”

“Ban-chan!” 

“Hey, us youngest siblings have to stick together.” 

Masato snorts as he crosses his arms over his chest at the betrayal from the Banri whom he’s been sharing a seat with this whole time. 

Once Taichi confirms that it seems to be all amusement and no animosity, he finds a new pit of warmth in his chest. As cheesy as it is, it’s exciting. It’s taken hours, but Banri has finally settled into hanging with Mirai and Masato in a way that proves they were right to give him a chance to be someone beyond the great mythical figure. He too, could be one of them. 

Juza must sense the same shift, for even as he nudges Banri back, his eyes are soft and fond, “Now, who's a menace?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just finish your story. ”

The world 'finish’ comes with a reinvigorating energy as Juza settles against the wall, determined but no longer visibly tired. Instead of looking to the side at his invisible text, he makes lingering eye contact with everyone else in the room. 

It’s still his story, but they’re all in it until the end. 

The capital was decorated with hundreds of gold roses. All perfectly uniform and unmoving. A bountiful garden for all of eternity but a frozen, unbreathing one. 

The Stablehand stepped, head held high by the comfort of his companions behind him, ‘Welcome to-’ but he didn’t finish before the air was forced from his lungs by the stranglehold the Lumberjack had around his neck and chest. 

As stormy clouds moved in, the sky turned more and more gray but stars danced before his eyes before the Oni pried the Lumberjack from him and sent them both tumbling to the golden ground. 

In seconds, there was chaos, but chaos is where they came from and chaos is where they thrived. So even as guards rushed them from all angles, the Dragonslayer kept an easy smile on his face as he knocked them back in competitive teamwork with the Knight. 

With the pair watching their backs, the Oni and the Lumberjack went toe to toe, tumbling over the ground in harmony with the ever-growing rumble of the storm above. 

Though he grabbed his bow as soon as he scrambled to his feet, the Stablehand’s focus was elsewhere as he ran down the street, calling for a crowd with all his might. It was hard to believe the plan would work, but it was his and he had to try. He found there was a world of difference in trying something crazy when someone else believed in him too, ‘They’ve come to free us! The storms will end!!’ he screamed despite having no breath left. As his legs began to burn, began to refuse to his order to move, the magic within him that had gone ignored for so long began to react with the stones in the ground and continued to push him onward, ‘The storms will-’

‘What will end?’ the cool voice of the God’s Tyrant himself demanded in a rumble lower than the thunder. ‘And what do you think you’re doing?’ 

In the face of unspeakable terror that had once frozen him and turned him into someone he never thought himself capable of, the Stablehand smiled, ‘The storms will end,’ he calmly repeated, ‘I’m doing the right thing.’

‘You’re delusional,’ the Tyrant dismissed, ‘I knew you were useless.’

‘Maybe I am,’ the Stablehand admitted, ‘But what about all of them?’ he asked of the crowd now swarming the street desperate for a better look at the commotion, ‘END IT!’

On cue, the Dragonslayer kicked down the final guard challenging him and lunged toward the still raging Lumberjack. Snarling, the Lumberjack ripped the lance from his hands, taking them both back down to the ground in the process. Seeing his moment, the Oni dropped on top of the Lumberjack, his knee sinking into his chest, his claws tearing at his shoulder. 

‘It’s over, Spellcaster!’ the Dragonslayer called, somehow audible over the now roaring storm.  Reveling in the drama for a couple extra seconds, he threw his arms out wide, ‘Dispel the storm!’ 

‘You won’t kill me?’ the Lumberjack asked, eyes wide and honest. 

‘This isn’t your way out. Just end it here.’ 

‘As you command,’ 

The Lumberjack slumped flat on his back and stared powerlessly up at the clouds. 

The Oni quietly unclenched his hand. He felt nothing change. Panic caught in his chest as the storm he brought left his control. He closed his eyes, trying to look away from his failure for a few seconds. But as the world disappeared behind his eyelids, delighted gasps began to ripple through the crowd of onlookers. When he opened his eyes again, they were pointing to the sky going still and he realized it had quieted down.

Now able to hear his own thoughts, he pushed, and the clouds listened. They began to part, revealing a patch of clear sky. Even with all of his power, it wasn’t much against the vast grayness, but it was enough for the people to believe. 

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the God’s Tyrant demanded. 

‘The meaning, ‘Your Excellency’’ the Dragonslayer mocked, ‘is that your ‘Spellcaster’ has made a promise. It’s on you now, end the storms or I daresay the people won’t be happy.' 

The Tyrant prepared to retort but as the crowd grew more restless, every threat that came to mind died before it reached his tongue. 

Instead, a different voice demanded an explanation, ‘This is what you’re doing with my magic?! An entire continent of rain?’ 

The crowd hushed and the Stablehand froze as he instantly recognized the powerful aura of the other man, ‘Your Highness!’

‘No more,’ the Chosen Prince pulled the crown from his head and let it fall. Instantly, the air pressure changed, and though they didn’t vanish on the spot, for the first time in months, clouds all across the land began to prepare to move away. 

As he stood in his perfect royal posture, horrified anger took over the Prince’s face as he surveyed the crowd and settled on the Gardener’s beat-up troupe. 

Panicked, the God’s Tyrant retrieved the fallen crown and held it up high in a precious offering. Even as he glared at the audacity, his desperation was clear, ‘Your power will be nothing without this place!’

‘I’ll find something else.’

As the Tyrant and the Former Prince stared each other down, the Dragonslayer slipped in to grab the Stablehand by the arm and pull him back toward their troupe, ‘Seems like we’re done here.’ 

‘You’re just running away now?’

‘No.’ the Dragonslayer countered, finally comfortable as the leader and head of the group, ‘We did what we came to do, now we’re meeting back with the people waiting for us. Don’t worry, we’ll be back. Don’t get too comfortable.’ 

‘This will mean war.’ 

The Dragonslayer huffed a stiff agreement, but it was the Stablehand who stepped forward and met the Tyrant’s eyes, ‘I don’t doubt it. But we’ll be even stronger.’

And with that, under the protection of the crowd’s protection eye, they were free to begin their journey back to the village. The overly apologetic Lumberjack took care of their wounds before they made it far and with the rain slowing, they were able to finish the trip in just over half the time it took them to make it there. 

Somehow, though they were gone barely over a week in total, when they returned the Garden was home to five new flowers already preparing to bloom."

“And they all lived happily ever after?” Mirai asks, earnest and expecting as the story closes before her. 

Juza takes a quiet beat before answering, less a moment of hesitation and more a genuine consideration, “Mm. Suppose they do.” 

Taichi feels his cheeks grow warm, and if the color on Banri’s face is anything to go by, then he must be all the way red just at the idea. 

Masato, however, is less impressed, “Don’t be stupid,” he snaps, ‘The God’s Tyrant just threatened war! There can’t be a happily ever after yet!” 

“That’s true,” Mirai muses, looking up to Taichi with wide and troubled eyes, “But when do you know you’ve finally done enough?” 

Taichi doesn’t have an answer. He’s worked so hard for so long to be better than he used to be that you’d think maybe he’d know redemption and enough when he sees it. He still doesn’t know the end game but the more he thinks about it, the longer it’s been since he’s worried about that. 

“I don’t think happily ever after is about a constant state of bliss,” he finally starts. Even to his own ears, it sounds too harsh, and he will not ruin his sister’s dreams of happiness here tonight, so he continues, “It can still be sad and scary sometimes. But you understand that you’re not alone and that you can make it through because now you have the tools and the support for your happiness.”

It’s hard to tell someone so young that there is hurt that doesn’t ever go away but eventually, if you’re lucky, you get a lot better at getting through it. He can tell that though she’s trying, Mirai just isn’t ready to fully get it and even Masato needs time to understand completely.

Taichi watches them with their youth and their innocence which are precious and so important. They’ve already grown so much while he’s been struggling to find himself. He watches them until his chest aches. 

“I think if you were happy all the time you wouldn’t be happy at all,” Banri runs his fingers through his as he turns to look at Taichi. His eyes crinkle as he smiles fondly, “So either it’s a trap and we’re all doomed forever, or you’re right.”

Juza hums softly like he might add on, but instead just slumps forward, resting his face against his legs, now that he’s done with his task, his remaining energy drains all at once, “You gotta know what you don' wanna lose in your happily ever after,” comes his muffled conclusion. 

Taichi hears himself audibly gasp as he feels a realization coming before it fully forms. That’s what’s different now than it was when they walked into the house unsuspecting hours and hours ago. 

Their feelings haven’t changed. They’ve lived with them for a long time. But there’s something about being here, in Taichi’s home, with Taichi’s family that has finally pushed them to do something different, something that isn’t just living in the safety of the ambiguity of not knowing. 

Taichi has never been bothered by the fact that he so regularly uses the words ‘I love you’, and Banri and Juza don’t. It’s never bothered him because he can hear it all the same, but more than that he’s never loved them with the explicit intention of being loved back. 

But while it’s still not those three words, Juza giving them a story that so clearly asks them if they’re ready to face their true potential for happiness is different. It’s different, but they listened and Banri agreed and Taichi didn’t run. 

Their feelings haven’t changed, but to acknowledge their love, is to give it more power. All too easily they could have stayed where they were, maybe forever. Not together but not apart. But now they’ve seen it, they know how precious their love is to them and though it won’t always be easy, they know they’re all working to never lose it. 

It hasn't been a fairy tale but they’ve already been there for each other at their worst, maybe they deserve the happily ever after part as well.  

Still seated on the floor, Masato squirms, not necessarily disagreeing, but struggling to sit comfortably with it as he lets it process. Suddenly he leans on Banri to push to his feet, tramples past Taichi, and leans over Juza to put his head between the curtains and stare out the window, “Look! The storm stopped!” 

The room is still as Mirai’s breath slows as she begins to drift to sleep and Banri comes to sit between Taichi and Juza to better admire the view of the night sky. As Juza’s weight begins to lean on Banri and Banri in turn, leans on Taichi, Taichi smiles, “It’s finally clear.”