FUKASHI

PRESENT

Nora is to become a permanent resident in their home, but she’s in bad shape, still recovering mentally and physically from the war itself. The Busuruli girl stays in bed for a week. Most of the time when Fukashi brings her food, he has to wake her up with utter gentleness. She lashes out if she’s startled awake, and it sadly doesn’t take much to startle her.

Cel avoids her as much as possible.

They’ve set Nora up in the guest bedroom.Whether the door is open or closed, Cel frequently stomps past it with a scowl on her face. Arthur finds her antics adorable, but Fukashi is decidedly off-put.

“You’ve spoiled her rotten,” he tells Arthur one night as they lie together in bed. Arthur’s face is tucked up against Fukashi’s neck, his breath hot on his skin. Their bed is barely big enough for the both of them, but with its dark red bed sheets, blankets of the same shade, and more pillows than they reasonably need, it’s quite comfortable.

Fukashi may be irritated, but that doesn't stop him from running a hand through Arthur’s loose hair. His shoulder aches from where it’s trapped beneath Arthur’s head.

“As if you didn’t contribute,” the man in question grumbles sleepily.

“I did,” Fukashi says, giving Arthur’s hair a slight yank, “but that doesn’t change the fact that Cel needs socializing. The way she treats Nora is appalling.”

“She hasn’t done anything bad.”

Fukashi scoffs. “Stomping by her door? If she glared any harder on that first day, Nora’s skin would’ve caught fire!”

“So what? It has once already.”

“Arthur!” Fukashi smacks the side of Arthur’s face. “She’s a child. Practically our child now. We cannot allow Cel to bully her. It’s not right.”

“Says the assassin.” Arthur sighs and scoots sideways. “You’re determined to talk this out now?”

“When else do you have time?” Fukashi rubs the ache from his shoulder.

With a groan, Arthur turns onto his side. Fukashi mirrors the movement so they can see each other’s faces. “Nora’s not ours, even if we’re taking care of her,” Arthur says. “I think she'd serve best as Cel’s shield.”

“Serve? Is she to be our servant against her will?” Fukashi doesn’t keep the disgust off his face.

Arthur glowers as his tone goes frosty. “Just who do you take me for, Shadowshy? This is what I can do to save her. It’s not ideal, but we can’t publicly treat Nora as we do Cel. You know how closely I am watched as it is.”

Arthur’s black eyes catch a bit of light from the hall and reveal a thin ring of red around his irises, barely noticeable. Fukashi wonders what they had looked like fully red. Had they glowed as brightly as Cel’s do when she’s feeling particularly angry or excited?

“I know about Rajask,” Fukashi says carefully. He’s not sure why he says it. He’s made a point to never bring it up before. “The Busuruli’s ancestors were Rajaskians.”

Perhaps he does know why he’s asking. There is a child involved, this time. Fukashi must know the measure of Arthur’s cruelty, of his apathy for others beyond those he calls family.

“You know nothing.” Arthur sits up and puts his back to the center of the bed. A large, dark handprint lies between his shoulder blades. Fukashi has seen it before, of course. It’s not a tattoo; he knows that for certain. It looks like someone stuck their hand in black paint and pressed their palm to his skin--someone with long, skinny fingers. The mark isn’t smooth, though, it’s rough. It feels like charcoal to the touch, but it doesn’t flake or leave residue.

It is, without a doubt, some kind of curse.

Fukashi sits up against the pillows and stares across the room at nothing in particular. “I don’t know how you did what you did there, but I know it was you who did it.”

“And yet you’re still here.” Arthur’s definitive tone makes Fukashi frown.

“In Tetsushi, they taught us that firecores weren’t always human, that your kind feel differently than we do. I know you’re not perfect.” Fukashi picks at a loose thread on the comforter. “ The moment you walked into Tetsushi, I could see fear in my mother’s eyes. She looked at you and thought she was staring down some kind of demon, but Arthur, Fox, Tsula.” Fukashi wrenches himself up and crawls across the bed, leaning his forehead against the nape of Arthur’s neck. “ I’m not exactly the pinnacle of good deeds either. Rajask was a wretched place. And what happened there is in the past, done. I don’t blame you for it, but you must consider: Nora is just a girl.”

Arthur grunts in agreement, but a heavy silence pervades the air. Fukashi lets it stew. He won’t be the one to break it.

Finally, Arthur gestures for Fukashi to sit beside him; once he settles, Arthur places his hand on Fukashi’s knee. “I have nothing against the Busuruli, but I cannot think of Nora as mine. I stole her away. I separated her from her family. I may as well have killed her mother myself.”

So that’s what’s really bothering you? Fukashi tilts his head against Arthur’s shoulder and smiles. Relief and fondness bubble up in his chest. “You’re not the heartless bastard everyone makes you out to be. Perhaps, even if Nora cannot be our child, she can be our student. And a friend to Cel, if we can only convince her.”

Arthur chuckles. “Cel won’t fold easily.”

“Nor will I.”

“A student though…” Arthur traces a pattern on Fukashi’s leg. “I think I can deal with that.”

“Good.” Fukashi presses a kiss to his temple. “Now stop moping and come back to sleep.”