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The moon hangs high when he reaches the gates of the city.
Natsume remembers its name, for a change: the small, folded note in his hand spells out Yumenosaki in neat handwriting. It's been a while since he's put a name to his destinations; in fact, this might be the first time in his travels that he's headed somewhere specific.
For a witch still honing his craft and polishing his abilities, traveling provides unparalleled opportunities for field work. That is, having to move around so much makes it easy to meet a unique assortment of people constantly; there's never a shortage of worries and concerns for him to help out with, and if there's something he hasn't encountered yet, he can figure out a spell or potion or incantation and learn a little more along the way. All in all, more people can be serviced, and so more satisfied smiles can be yielded. It's the stuff of Natsume's childhood dreams.
Such ideations tend to not consider many important things, however. Like how all the smiles and words of gratitude can bleed into each other, when you hear them just enough to acknowledge, but never to commit them to memory. Or how lonely it can be to be free, to not have anyone or anything tying you to anything. Freedom begets the ability to shape your own identity, but what of it if there is no one to identify you in the first place?
If not for his magic, what would people remember him by?
Transience is an odd thing; it is the inevitable fate of all humankind, the ultimacy of flesh. Yet to experience it, not at the end but in the midst of life, takes away from one's humanity rather than emphasizes it. To live in impermanence is to render yourself a ghost among the living; memories are lost before they can be made, and meaning escapes your existence.
As a witch, Natsume's purpose is clear. But as a person, with every new city he enters, his uncertainty mounts.
"Nito? He sent you here?"
The atmosphere in the brightly lit room is awkward, to say the least.
Natsume nods. "I met him while travel ing . His carriage broke, and he didn't have any tools, so I helped fix it ."
"I see."
Silence doesn’t bother Natsume—at home, he often found himself enveloped by it for hours on end as he leafed through his mother's tomes, and when traveling alone, it's a staple of the journey. But something about the current situation makes him fidget uncharacteristically with his collar.
It must be the severity of the tall, pink-haired man's glare, so different in demeanor and appearance from the student who led him here.
"I suppose he expects me to house you as thanks," the man starts, eyebrow raised.
"That is what he told me ."
The man seems to be contemplating the situation, and for a moment, all is quiet. Natsume cringes a little at the shamelessness of his situation. He isn't sure what came over him, daring to follow a stranger's directions to someone's house, appearing on their doorstep saying you've been promised a room at their address.
The man turns to leave, and Natsume is all but ready to be led back to the door, when he says, "Do not bother me while I am working at night. During the day, I stay at my shop, so do not expect to see me much. Do not touch anything outside of your room. Follow me."
With a word of thanks, Natsume quickly follows him up the stairs and down the corridor into a plainly decorated room, all creams and whites save for the bursts of color from the paintings on the wall. The man tidies the room a little as he asks about Natsume, about where he came from and what he does. Standing by the bed, he tells him of his traveling, and of his mission to help people with magic.
It is only when he is finished picking up the stray pincushions, laces, and sheets of paper that the man introduces himself.
"I am Shu Itsuki. I work as a dressmaker." He has a foot out the door when he turns to face Natsume. "Any friend of Nito's is a friend of mine. On behalf of him, thank you."
The door shuts gently, and Natsume is left sitting on the bed. The mattress creaks a little from his weight.
Shu doesn't ask how long he plans to stay.
A week into their new living arrangement, he offers Natsume space at his boutique.
"It is pitiful to see you pass by, walking around aimlessly during the day," he had explained, when he brought Natsume with him to open up shop that morning. "I would rather you stay put in one place. That would be easier for everyone who wants your help, would it not?"
He never considered that before. Granted, he usually slept at local inns, rarely being offered boarding as thanks for his aid, and even more rarely staying at someone’s house for more than a night. No one really knew of his services unless he stumbled upon people in a predicament himself, so he often sought out problems to help fix rather than wait for people to come to him. The idea escaped him until now.
The extra room in Shu's studio is nothing of note; it's a simple, empty flat on the second floor of the building, accessible from a staircase that crawls up the wall of the atelier and has its own little balcony before the door. It is separated from the main studio downstairs, and though it would make for a valuable storage room—important given the volume of work Shu produces—it isn't difficult to imagine the inconvenience of transferring heavy or delicate materials up and down stairs that are exposed to the elements. Perhaps that is why Shu is so willing to just give it to Natsume, without so much as a lease.
There are still a few bundles of fabric and misplaced tools in Natsume's new office. He helps Shu lug them to his atelier, and, fueled by a curiosity only apparent when you're constantly seeing and in the same proximity as someone, especially in such an intimate setting as their home, he sparks conversation.
"How long have you been making clothes ?"
"More than half my life."
"So you've had this studio for just as long ?" The exterior of the building is weathered brick and stone, and inside, especially on the second floor, the wallpaper is yellowed and peeling at the edges. Below, bright lights, mannequins, and thick rolls of fabric obscure any obvious sign of age.
"No, it's only been two years."
Natsume hums. "Any reason for you to start so late? Making it a business, I mean . Sewing's a big passion of yours, yes? And you've been doing it for most of your life ."
His storefront houses a meticulously arranged display of dresses and pantsuits, all showcased under the harsh lighting of a fluorescent bulb. The designs are a mixture of classic cuts and silhouettes and more avant-garde creations that are unfamiliar even to a traveler's eye. It stands out among its neighboring shops and stalls, as though it was picked by hand out of the uptown shopping district, and planted into the less affluent marketplace.
"It was a gift to me from family," Shu sets down a small stack of old garment patterns, and leans over the table. "I never thought of this as a money making scheme. The opportunity arose, and I simply took it."
"I see."
Shu begins fussing over the fabric draped over a mannequin, and Natsume takes it as his cue to leave. Up until now, he’s never had a solid base of operations when stopping over. He doesn't remember talking this much with any of his former hosts, either. It is an odd but welcome change.
The door of the apothecary shuts gently, and the jingle-jangle of keys cut through the silence of the night. It’s quite late—Natsume found himself engrossed in experimenting with brewing potions, improving old recipes and creating new ones along the way. Surprisingly, potions are in high demand, mostly from farmers and village folk from right outside the bordering forest.
Natsume didn’t know there was a settlement there until the people started coming in, asking for spells, charms, potions, anything to help with the harvest and fertility. One month into Yumenosaki and he still isn’t as acquainted with its people as he would like; field work is rarer now that he has a shop. Maybe a stroll around town, and out into the village, is due.
Those are considerations for tomorrow’s Natsume, however. Tonight, he will go home, eat dinner, and, to unwind, borrow a book from Shu’s collection. Despite his rule not to touch anything in his house, he isn’t very strict with his books. Natsume is sure he noticed the missing books on his shelf that return every other night, but he hasn’t said anything. In fact, Shu’s been leaving books in conspicuous places lately. Quite unbefitting for someone as neat as him.
Just as the key is about to push through the lock of the door, Natsume hears footsteps. A man appears from the stairs. Natsume recognizes him; it’s the strange orator who speaks in the streets and city square, the one Shu scoffs at when they pass by, calling him a nuisance (among other names). Natsume remembers none of his words, never stopping to listen because of the thick crowd, but he always seems to be campaigning for… something, wearing a pristine white suit that glows under the glare of the sun.
The suit still glimmers faintly now. Maybe it reflects the moonlight. Unmoving, Natsume stares at him flatly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, pausing halfway up the steps, “are you closed?”
Natsume looks up to see a crescent moon, a smattering of stars keeping it company. He lets the key fall, hearing it clink against the keyring. It’s been a while since he’s seen stars. In fact, this might be the first time since his arrival in Yumenosaki.
A sudden gust of wind breaks Natsume from his trance, and he shifts his gaze back to the man on the stairs, still stuck in his place. He awkwardly tries to sort out his hair after violently being tousled, running his fingers through a mess of blue, sweeping it back and to the sides. It’s quite the difference to his polite and dignified appearance while giving speeches.
Natsume huffs out something short of a laugh at the sight.
Tonight’s a good night—Shu won’t mind him coming in late, and a cold dinner isn’t the worst thing. It wouldn't be the first time reading would impede on his sleep, either. He has some time to spare.
So he pushes the door open, cocks his head in invitation, and walks back into the apothecary. The man follows, eyes glittering at the collections of crystals, jars of ingredients, and stacks of books decorating the space. Engrossed in his examination of the apothecary, he doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten. Natsume clears his throat; they are barely a step away from bumping into each other.
The man quickly steps back. “Excuse me.”
“What are you here for ?”
“I heard you can read fortunes? If you don’t mind…” He speaks gently, almost bashfully.
“It’s my job . Of course I don’t .” Natsume takes his place behind a table decorated with a strip of velvet cloth, intricately embroidered with constellations and incantations. Obscuring most of the design is a spread of cards and assortment of small stones and crystals; the scent of incense lingers strongly around it. The man moves in front of the table, and with a snap of Natsume’s fingers, feels something bump against the back of his knees. “Take a seat .”
As the man settles himself, Natsume gathers the cards and begins to shuffle them. Something feels off.
The cards can’t seem to grasp the man’s energy, as if there is some kind of blockage that Natsume himself cannot understand. He considers doing a cleanse, but just as he is about to put the deck down, his eyes meet greenish gold and an odd sense of calm washes over him.
The man blinks expectantly, like a puppy, just as a breeze passes through the room. It irks Natsume, and the longer he looks into those eyes, the more he feels a presence making itself known, emanating from that stare. But along with his discomfort comes a sense of clarity. The incense remains untouched.
He places the cards in front of the man. “We’ll do a three card reading tonight . If you have a specific question, keep it in mind as I instruct you .”
The man follows as he is guided through cutting the deck and picking the cards. When he begins turning his chosen three over, Natsume still can’t shake his prior unease, taking slow, deep breaths to collect himself.
As they are revealed, Natsume can’t help but be taken aback. The blue-haired enigma looks on, none the wiser. Now, Natsume is sure—the cards themselves are saying it—this man is certainly a character .
Shu’s house sits in a modest, quiet neighborhood. It’s a ways away from the sprawling lots and manors further up the city, yet it’s still more posh than many of the houses around it. Only a few others in the neighborhood are of a similar size as it. It sticks out, especially when Shu has a project he’s particularly invested in and the windows are lit brightly well into the night.
Though it would appear to be otherwise, Shu lives quite frugally, spending most of his money on acquiring new, rare fabrics and clothing patterns, and miscellaneous other things he thinks he might use (a long string of pearls and bundles of delicate cream-colored lace sit in a box Natsume doesn’t remember being there yesterday). Until Natsume came, Shu lived alone; beyond the knowledge of his shop’s connection to them, though, the Itsukis remain a mystery. Only through letters that sour Shu’s mood and compel him into a frenzy of sewing into the morning is their presence felt.
Though he can't exactly say he understands where Shu is coming from, Natsume, at least, sympathizes with his desire to live a life separate from them.
He left his parents rather young—not out of contempt, or a want to escape, but simply out of a curiosity for what lies beyond familiarity. Though a sudden decision, his parents let him go quite quickly; these kinds of impulsive, life-altering decisions weren’t unprecedented for them, after all, seeing as they eloped and cut ties with their own families, all the more monumental because of his mother's reputation as a prodigy in her coven. Their son forging his own path, however unorthodox, is but a natural progression. If anything, that brand of a stubbornly independent will and the determination to see it through is a trademark of the Sakasakis.
Many of his earliest memories are also the happiest. Their family was incredibly close-knit, and there was never any shortage of love in Natsume’s childhood. He was beloved by everyone in their small town, seen as greatly mature and independent, and, though initially used in acts of juvenile mischief, he undeniably inherited his mother’s magical prowess. He quickly found himself egregiously leafing through her grimoires, observing her as she brewed potions and recited spells. When she would go out at the request of a neighbor or friend, Natsume pleaded to join her so he could watch her in her element. His favorite spell of hers was the one for happiness—the one that effortlessly drew smiles and laughter from the people around them, the spell he seeks to emulate with his own abilities now.
But there are others he keeps stuffed at the back of his mind, fraught with loneliness and the cold of an empty home. His mother’s trips began to grow longer and longer, until he barely saw her at home anymore; and his father’s own business began to grow, forcing both of them to be away for stretches of time. Natsume understood the necessity of their absence. They would always try to make up for it when they came home, and after all, he could never fault them for wanting to help others, and wanting to provide for him. Loneliness, to Natsume, was just his share of their sacrifice.
It was not a tearful affair when he left. His parents looked proud, especially his mother. It was both a blessing and a curse. Out of love for his family, Natsume chooses to view it exclusively as the former.
Dinner tonight is a simple, hearty soup, and an assortment of breads and pastries. Save for the strange, dark haired man with them, everything is as it usually is.
He is dressed in one of Shu’s creations, a black and violet velvet suit, accentuated with delicate beading and maroon detailing. His lips are lifted in a slight smile that never seems to leave. There’s a coldness in his eyes despite it, a guardedness that is almost a warning in its intensity. It is both alluring and disarming.
Only a cup of tea sits in front of him; he sips quietly as Natsume and Shu enjoy their meals.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” he begins in a low voice. Natsume turns to face him.
“Yes, we haven’t .”
He laughs, and Shu rolls his eyes, sighing. “Shu, I’m surprised you’ve kept this new friend of yours from me. Have you taken an apprentice?”
“Of course not. That would only be an inconvenience.”
“Oh, but you must have a good reason to keep him around, yes?” Natsume quietly picks at the chocolate filled pastry on his plate as they talk.
“You should really learn to mind your own business, Rei.”
“It’s a bad habit,” he shrugs, “what can I say?”
Natsume’s pastry has vanished. Shu stands, collects their plates, and wordlessly leaves to the kitchen. Their guest’s tea must be cold by now, but he takes another sip, unbothered. Unsure about what to do next, Natsume stands, about to return to his room, when a rich voice calls out, “You, there.”
He turns to see the man, still seated at the table, stirring his drink. “What’s your name?”
“Natsume, Natsume Sakasaki.”
He nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sakasaki. It’s nice to finally put a name to the face of the witch people keep talking about.”
“Really?” He asks in disbelief. He doesn’t think about it, but it makes sense—his customers have steadily been increasing, and he’s been in Yumenosaki for a while now, so it’s only natural that word about him gets around. Hearing a third party say it puts it in perspective, though, inspiring a giddy feeling somewhere in his chest.
It takes Natsume a moment to figure out a reply. “I didn’t think people would talk about me .”
“They do. You’re a miracle worker to them. A mythical figure made flesh.”
“How do you know this ?”
His smile grows into a smirk. “You haven’t heard of me? Nothing at all?”
Natsume shakes his head. “You’re still quite the foreigner, then. I’m quite notorious in the kingdom. I don’t think a day goes by that my name isn’t mentioned here, for better or for worse.”
“I’ll make sure to keep an ear out for it, then .”
“Shu must enjoy your company,” he laughs. “I’m envious.”
He stands, carrying his teacup, and Natsume feels his spine straighten at the imposing figure before him. It isn’t obvious when he is seated and lounging around, but he carries himself with a confidence that is telling of his authority and power. He takes measured steps to meet Natsume by the doorframe; red eyes bore into his as if trying to see through them and into Natsume. He bows his head in greeting.
“I am the Grand Duke Sakuma. But please, call me Rei. I look forward to our next meetings, young witch.”
Two months pass without Natsume noticing. It surprises him that he’s stuck around for so long, and that Shu hasn’t told him to up and go yet.
Rei drops by the house sometimes, but it’s rare, and with every visit he seems to become more and more jaded. Natsume recognizes part of the fatigue to be from constant traveling, the same weariness in the eyes and shoulders he saw in his mother, and later, himself; but he can’t fathom the rest of his burden’s origins.
It’s the same with Shu, and even his customers at the apothecary. A sense of unease permeates every interaction. A recent and burgeoning upset, anger, excitement; a frenzy Natsume can’t make sense of, but knows is there.
He sees the blue-haired orator more often now. Initially, he supposed it to be because of the strong, strange impression he left on their first meeting, but his public appearances have undoubtedly increased since then, and interestingly, he’s mentioned Sakuma quite a bit in his speeches. Something about their audaciousness and lack of presence in Yumenosaki, despite their patronage of many local industries. It sounds a lot like fear mongering to Natsume, because it’s not as if Yumenosaki was ever reliant on the sponsorship of a particular clan to survive. At least in the time he’s spent in the city, no particular figures stand out as the city’s greatest influence; not even Rei, who he knows personally, appears to be so concerned with domestic affairs to the extent that the speeches imply he should. Then again, there’s a lot about the kingdom he is yet to fully comprehend, beyond what’s written on paper.
The door creaks open, and a familiar head of blue peeks out.
“Hello, may I come in?”
The orator comes back to have his fortune read every so often. It’s a common enough occurrence that they find themselves engaged in conversation, long after his reading.
Every time he comes by, it baffles Natsume that he puts on this polite act, because he’s already inside by the time he finishes his question. “You’ve answered yourself once again .”
“Have I?” He holds a finger to his chin in thought before chuckling. “Well, you’ve never turned me away, even if you very well could.”
“I don’t refuse any of my customers . Any good businessman knows not to do that .”
He drops his smile. “I’m not coming to you as a customer now, though. I’m here as a friend.”
Natsume raises a brow. This is new. His tone is grave, different from his usual easygoing gentleness. It’s sincere. Where is this coming from?
“Stay away from the Grand Duke. He’s trouble—something’s brewing, right now, and you don’t want to be caught in the middle of everything. It won’t be good.”
“How do you know I have any ties to him ?” Strange, Natsume doesn’t remember mentioning anything of his private life to him in any conversation. Everything they talked about revolved around magic and the orator’s own stories about his job as staff to the nobility, and his coworkers. “What do you even know about the Sakumas ?”
He opens his mouth to reply, then pauses, face twisting into a strange expression, like a restrained sort of melancholy, or regret. “I can’t tell you that,”
“Then why tell me at all?” Natsume’s frustration mounts, voice getting louder. His own face contorts into a frown.
He doesn’t react. It grates on Natsume’s nerves.
“If you’re just here to make assumptions or commands about my personal business, please leave. If there’s something you want to ask of me that I can offer, then just spit it out.”
Wordlessly, he makes his way to the door. Stopping with his hand on the handle, he turns to face Natsume, and the same, strange feeling of calmness befalls the room—just as in their first meeting.
Natsume shakes his discomfort at the feeling, though something about this situation makes it more haunting than the first. The orator smiles; it’s disingenuous. It’s synthetic, just like his charisma and eloquence in the streets.
“Take care of yourself, okay? You’re much too kind.”
His voice rings in Natsume’s ears.
On an unassuming night, the eve of Natsume’s fourth month in Yumenosaki, he wakes up to his heart pounding erratically in his chest. Anxiously, he makes his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, confused with the state of his body.
The Grand Duke is there, standing by the counter. He nods at Natsume.
“Young witch.”
Groggily, Natsume comes closer. “Rei?”
“Indeed, it is I.”
He has no idea what business Rei has at their house at this hour. Shu is bound to be asleep; it catches him off guard that someone as distinguished as Rei would essentially sneak in in the dead of the night. Perhaps Shu gave him a key, and Natsume never knew?
A folded piece of paper slots itself into Natsume’s hands. Rei touches his shoulder, taking him out of his thoughts. “A letter ?”
“Best to read it in the morning, when you’re all rested.” He moves to leave the room, the darkness of his coat trailing behind him. “Good night… Natsume.”
Natsume manages to wave him goodbye as he leaves through the front door. Everything about this encounter is so strange, it might as well be a dream—he’ll tell Shu about it over breakfast, if he manages to catch him, and find out the truth. Or maybe he’ll get a rare laugh out of his host. Either would be good.
Clumsily, he places the letter on his nightstand, almost forgetting its existence, and settles himself in bed. Seeing Rei, dream or not, confused Natsume enough that he distracted himself from his earlier predicament. Now calmer, he allows himself to succumb to sleep.
Dear Natsume,
Farewell. I apologize for having to tell you this through a letter—it is, quite frankly, one of the most shameful things I have ever done in my life—but circumstances do not afford me the privilege of being with you another day, and thus I am unable to explain myself to you in person. I understand you must be shocked at this revelation, and perhaps anxious of the future of your situation in Yumenosaki, but rest assured that I have made sure you have the means to sustain yourself, or if you so desire, leave the kingdom. Now, allow me to outline the series of events that have led me to this undignified course of action…