Chapter Text
The afternoon light poured across the white marble courtyards of the Light Kingdom’s training grounds. The clang of metal echoed sharp and steady—discipline given sound. Tsukasa was where he always was: in the center of it all, the White Knights’ Chief Chevalier, form perfect, blade gleaming, expression unwavering.
Except lately, something was different.
When the drills ended and the knights clustered in groups—laughing, trading jabs, leaning on their swords like friends rather than soldiers—Tsukasa didn’t leave immediately anymore. He stayed. He stood a few paces off, as if testing the air, as if unsure how to breathe in this kind of camaraderie.
And today, he was trying.
Akito Shinonome had just finished sheathing his blade, his usual grin wide. “Not bad today, Chief! Almost made me break a sweat.”
Tsukasa gave a small, polite nod. “You’ve improved.”
“Man, don’t just say that so stiffly,” Akito said, laughing. “You’ll make me think I actually did something wrong.”
Tsukasa hesitated, then—awkwardly—added, “No. You did… well.”
Akito blinked, then smirked. “Wow, you’re learning how to compliment people! Rui teaching you that?”
Tsukasa’s ears turned faintly pink. “No.”
Nearby, Mizuki chuckled, tossing their sword and catching it effortlessly. “Oh, come on, Chief. You can’t fool us. You’ve been a lot chattier since you got hitched.”
Tsukasa frowned. “I’ve always spoken adequately.”
“You’ve spoken like a statue,” Mizuki corrected. “Now you’re, like, a statue that occasionally sighs and makes small talk. It’s character development.”
Akito laughed. “True! What happened? Rui rubbing off on you?”
“I—” Tsukasa began, but the words caught somewhere in his throat.
The two knights snickered and went back to sparring, but Tsukasa stood there a moment longer. He wasn’t angry—just… unsure. Maybe Rui had been right to tease him. Maybe he had grown distant from everyone. But that didn’t mean he had to admit it aloud.
Still, when Akito called out, “You joining us, Chief?” he found himself nodding. “Yes. One more round.”
Meanwhile, back at the cottage, Rui sat at the window, elbow propped on the sill, tapping his cheek with an absent finger. The garden stretched outside—wild, chaotic, much like its caretaker—but the house itself felt oddly empty.
Tsukasa was late. Again.
Rui wasn’t worried. Not exactly. But something about the quiet gnawed at him. The chevalier always returned at the same time, punctual as clockwork, habit-bound and precise. And yet for the past few days, the sun had dipped lower before he came home, dust on his boots, exhaustion in his eyes, and a faint—almost guilty—smile on his lips.
So Rui, naturally, had done what any devoted husband with an overactive imagination would do: he decided to investigate.
He threw on his usual coat and sauntered toward the castle grounds, humming lightly to himself. But by the time he reached the training fields, the humming stopped.
Because there, across the expanse of pale stone, he saw Tsukasa.
And the chevalier was laughing.
Not the quiet, polite kind of smile Rui had coaxed out of him before—this was different. A sharp exhale, a startled grin at something Akito said, shoulders unguarded for once. He was standing with Akito and Mizuki, sparring half-heartedly while Mizuki tossed teasing remarks his way, and the knights were smiling with him.
Rui stood perfectly still, watching.
He felt a tug deep in his chest—something sharp, soft, and unexpectedly painful.
Tsukasa was trying.
Not because of duty. Not because of command. Because of him.
Rui pressed a hand to his heart, where the ache deepened. He’d teased Tsukasa, mocked his solitude like it was a funny quirk, never realizing—
Never realizing the knight had taken those words to heart.
“Ah,” Rui whispered to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes were dim. “You really do take everything too seriously, my chevalier.”
He should have turned around then. Should have left him to his moment.
But, of course, Rui Kamishiro was terrible at doing what he should.
The clang of the gate broke through the air.
Heads turned.
“What in the world—” Akito muttered, hand moving instinctively to his sword.
There, striding through the archway with a magician’s poise and a trail of petals following his boots, was Rui Kamishiro himself.
The sorcerer’s presence was impossible to mistake.
Half the knights tensed, and Akito took a defensive stance on instinct. “What the—why is he here?!”
Tsukasa’s head whipped around, eyes wide. “Rui—what are you—?”
“Visiting,” Rui said simply.
Akito’s stance didn’t falter. “You can’t just stroll into the castle like that! You’re from the Dark Kingdom!”
Rui raised an eyebrow, his voice quieter than usual. “Oh? Am I unwelcome?”
Tsukasa quickly stepped forward, hand raised. “Stand down. He’s not here to fight.”
Akito looked between them, uncertain, but obeyed. Mizuki, however, only leaned on their sword, eyeing Rui with curious amusement. “So this is the infamous sorcerer, huh? Honestly, I expected more evil schemes.”
Rui’s lips quirked faintly. “It’s early in the day. I try to limit my dramatics before noon.”
Tsukasa exhaled through his nose. “Why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same, my chevalier,” Rui said softly, his tone more serious than his usual teasing lilt. “You’ve been coming home later and later. I worried.”
“Worried?” Mizuki echoed, smirking. “Aw, that’s cute.”
“Don’t,” Tsukasa warned them under his breath.
Rui’s eyes flicked toward the two other knights. Akito’s stance was relaxed but wary; Mizuki’s grin was edged with mischief. Rui understood the dynamic immediately—these were the people Tsukasa was trying to know better.
And that was what hit him hardest.
He had been right.
Tsukasa hadn’t had friends. He’d been alone in his stoicism, in his duty, in that rigid shell Rui kept cracking with laughter and affection.
And now… he was trying. Because Rui had pushed him.
The sorcerer’s smile faded, replaced by a quiet expression of guilt. “I see.”
Tsukasa blinked. “Rui?”
“I was right, then,” Rui said softly. “You really didn’t have friends.”
Tsukasa froze, something defensive flickering in his eyes. “That’s not—”
Rui lifted a hand. “Don’t deny it. I teased you about it, didn’t I? And here you are, proving me wrong the only way you know how—by working yourself to exhaustion to do better.”
Tsukasa’s mouth opened, then closed again. The courtyard was quiet save for the sound of distant training.
Mizuki shifted awkwardly, exchanging a glance with Akito. “Uh, should we…?”
“No,” Rui said gently. “Stay. You’re part of this too.”
He stepped forward, the air humming faintly with his magic, though there was no threat in it—only a ripple of crimson light, soft and warm. He stopped in front of Tsukasa, eyes searching his husband’s face.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were lacking,” Rui said, voice uncharacteristically even. “You’ve given your kingdom everything. You’ve given me more kindness than I thought I’d ever deserve. You don’t have to fix yourself just because I made a careless joke.”
Tsukasa looked away, his jaw tightening. “I wasn’t fixing myself. I simply realized I should… connect more. With my knights.”
“Because I said something.”
“Because you were right,” Tsukasa admitted quietly.
For a moment, the wind carried silence between them. Rui’s expression softened, and he reached out, brushing a gloved thumb along the scar on Tsukasa’s jaw. “You’re perfect as you are, you know that? I don’t need you to be anyone else. Least of all someone lonely trying to unlearn it overnight.”
Tsukasa blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Rui…”
Akito coughed, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh. Should we—leave, or…?”
Mizuki, grinning, elbowed him lightly. “No way. This is better than half the romances in the royal library.”
“Shut up,” Tsukasa muttered under his breath.
Rui smiled faintly, the corners of his eyes softening. “You have good people around you, Tsukasa. Don’t be afraid to let them in. But don’t ever think that you need to change yourself to deserve their company—or mine.”
Tsukasa inhaled slowly, nodding once. “…Understood.”
Rui’s smile returned, small but genuine. “Good.” He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for only Tsukasa to hear, “Still, I must admit—it’s endearing seeing you try to make friends. My little chevalier learning social skills at last.”
Tsukasa shot him a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm. And you love me for it.”
“Regrettably.”
Rui chuckled softly, the guilt in his chest easing slightly. He turned to the others, tone brightening again. “Well! I believe I’ve disrupted your training enough for one day. Carry on, brave knights. Try not to faint from witnessing affection.”
Akito groaned. “Too late.”
Mizuki laughed. “No, keep going. I’m taking notes!”
Tsukasa groaned quietly, but when Rui met his gaze, something unspoken passed between them—warmth, forgiveness, the quiet understanding of two people still learning how to belong.
As Rui turned to leave, Tsukasa’s hand brushed his briefly.
It wasn’t a plea or a command. Just a touch that said: thank you.
And Rui, for once, didn’t say anything clever back. He only smiled softly and walked away, the sound of his boots fading into the hum of the training grounds—leaving Tsukasa a little less alone than before.