Chapter Text
“Brother.” Ayaka’s voice behind him was tight and strangled. When Ayato turned, he found her eyes were red-rimmed, but her posture was pure steel, fists curled at her sides. As always her gaze dissected him and tonight Ayato could not –
“How is he?” he asked, voice rough. He noticed that ink had spilled across his fingers, down his wrist, and soaked the length of his sleeve. This did not bode well for the state of the paperwork he had tried to bury himself into. Carefully he placed down the brush and found he had to clench his hands to keep them from shaking.
“Fretful. Terrified. Tossing and turning and feverish.” Ayaka bit her lip and Ayato stared at his little sister and wondered when exactly she had grown so tall and so mature and so capable. Had she not been his little kid sister just yesterday? Now she was whip smart enough to see Ayato’s feelings, his failings, and be unafraid to call him out to be better. Be the best he could be.
This meant she knew he pined for the friend they both cherished so much. Pined for a man who would give him anything if only Ayato asked, no questions. And how could he put Thoma in that position?
Ayato did not want Thoma’s loyalty, or his duty. He wanted to be wanted. Selfishly. Desperately. And the very positions they found themselves in meant he could never risk forcing Thoma into a corner to choose him out of obligation, for the Kamisato clan.
That was why Ayato had carried Thoma every step to the estate, arranged all he needed to be taken care of, and locked himself in his own rooms. It would not do, for him to risk acting any more of an insufferable alpha as he had already. Tucking Thoma in personally, pacing the room as if expecting danger, baring his teeth at the healer, for goodness‘ sake. The poor lady was only doing her job to the best of her ability, but Ayato’s protective instincts had made him forget himself.
So, ultimately, he had removed himself. For Thoma’s sake, and the reputation of the head of the Kamisato clan. Exiled himself to the other side of the estate. The doctor kept him appraised, and that was the extent of his involvement.
To sit by Thoma’s bedside like a fretful mate – it was not his place. It never would be.
“Do you not care for him at all?” Ayaka spat out, a sentiment so wildly unexpected that Ayato could do nothing but lift his head and stare. “It is not like he would demand anything, you know? Any other night you can show him the cold shoulder as you wish!” Ayaka swallowed wetly, her eyes brimming with tears of rage. “But he needs you. Right now! How could you leave him suffering on his own?!”
Ayato opened his mouth, but he found no response. Nothing that could make sense of anything. How could Ayaka say such a thing?
“Do you have any idea what it’s like? I try so hard to soothe him and he keeps – keeps whimpering, seeing archons know what under that dreadful medicine forced on him, tossing and turning and asking for you, and you’re sitting here doing paperwork – !”
When Ayato had left, Thoma had calmly slept, and the doctor had assured him the drug would pass through his system and suppressants would ease the heavy aftereffects. But this –
He got to his feet and almost stumbled in his haste. Put his hands on Ayaka’s shoulders. “He – for me? He asked for me?”
Of course he did. Was Ayato not the head of the clan Thoma had pledged himself to with devotion enough to grab the attention of a god?
How could Ayato have left him –
But how should he have known Thoma would end up in such a state?
“Of course he is,” Ayaka said, voice laced with deep, quiet pain. “Ayato, please, I am not asking for much, but if only you could be with him –“
Ayato squeezed her shoulders one last time in reassurance and then brushed past her, hurrying through the halls until he heard it. A throaty moan of pain, followed by a choked sob. He passed the doctor and two servants in a daze and stumbled into Thoma’s room.
The person Ayato loved was tossing and turning, face twisted in pain and unrest. And then, quietly, barely intelligible, he begged: “Ayato.”
Not ‘my lord’. His first name, which had not passed Thoma’s lips in years. Ever since the reality of their stations had forced them to conduct a certain distance.
“I am here.“ Ayato hurried to his bedside, uncertain how to actually help. He had killed that disgusting swine and left the body for the shuumatsuban to deal with, but his rage at what had almost been done to his Thoma still burned and burned and burned. It should have been enough to tear down the building with his bare hands.
But his rage would not give Thoma anything. No comfort nor protection, and most of all, what Ayato wanted was to cradle Thoma in his arms. To hold him and soothe him and promise him safety and protect him.
Thoma’s eyes struggled half-open, his pupils unfocused. “Ayato?“ he gasped again, sluggishly shifting towards him. Ayato gingerly sat down at the edge of the bed, reaching out with his heart in his throat.
Was he truly any better than the disgusting man he had left to bleed out on the cobblestone? Taking advantage of Thoma’s state to touch him, no matter the purity of his intention. He pulled his hand away, and spoke instead: “I am here, Thoma. You’re home. We are both home. You’re alright, you are safe.” I will never let anything hurt you again. “The Kamisato Clan takes care of its own.”
Thoma’s lids fluttered close again, and he sighed so deeply Ayato could see the tension bleeding from his shoulders. He’d long kicked off the covers, leaving him exposed in only plain, simple robes already rumpled from restless tossing and turning. Thoma’s hair was a mess and his cheeks flushed and splotchy, forehead shining with sweat. He looked so fragile and despite it all so painfully beautiful, and Ayato hated himself for the thought more than words could say.
Worse yet, Thoma kept inching towards him, his body curling like a flower seeking the sun. As if he wanted to be touched. As if he wanted to feel a physical assurance of Ayato’s presence.
Thoma’s hair fell into his face, and his lids kept twitching as the strands tangled in his lashes. And Ayato, fool that he was, reached out to brush them from his forehead. As he had done in that alley, when he was torn between rage bright enough to raze a village to the ground and the instinctive need to hold and protect and soothe the one he loved. His treasure, his heart.
The sound Thoma made when he touched his face startled Ayato – it was guttural, loud, immediate. He pulled away, terrified to have hurt him, and Thoma made a worse sound at that. “No,” he begged. “Please –“
“I won’t touch you again,” Ayato promised, horrified with his own thoughtlessness.
“No!” Thoma protested, louder. “Ayato, Ayato, please –“
Ayato had no idea what to do. Thoma could not mean what he thought he meant, it had to be a misunderstanding. But still he put his hand in between their bodies, on the sheets, like an offering. Thoma stubbornly stretched until he could wrap both his fever-hot hands around Ayato’s, and curled around their entwined hands like a frozen man sought a hearth.
Breath by breath he finally relaxed, calmed by nothing but Ayato’s presence, his proximity. Ayato’s chest ached with it.
It’s because I am head of the clan he devoted himself to, he reminded himself, stern. But at least he could do something, so he opened his palm with great care and found Thoma pressing his cheek into it. It was a gesture so like the many cats Thoma had taken care of over the years. The most feral of beasts which trusted no one became tame little kittens in his presence, and frankly, Ayato understood.
“Thoma,” he sighed, as if he had anything to follow it up with, anything to say when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. But that name and the feeling with which he spoke it encompassed it all, and he just watched, and he felt it, felt Thoma’s breath against his palm as it slowed, and evened out.
Ayato watched his face in sleep – brows smoothing out, at ease now. Sleeping off what had been fed to him without his knowledge, sheer dumb luck of Ayato being where he had been at the time the only thing preventing what would have happened to Thoma. What would have been done to him.
In his mind Ayato began forming ideas how to offer more support – prevent exactly those things happening to omegas. Was it a lack of resources or something deep within their system, allowing abusers so much power? It had to be a complex web of those reasons and many more, and targeting that kind of behaviour in prevention would be no easy nor straightforward task, but as a lord, Ayato held more power than most. He had to try. Change had to start here, and it would.
Thoma had spoken about such things before, but Ayato had never realised how – close the realities of it were. Together they’d find a way to improve the situation. To wrest a seedling of good from this horror and grow it into something worthy, something to make Inazuma better.
His mind was spinning in endless circles as he watched Thoma sleep off the warring drug and suppressants in his system and wondered how to force the world to bend into being a kinder and safer place.
“Thank you,” came Ayaka’s soft voice from the door, pulling him from his thoughts. When Ayato looked up at her – feeling guilty for the way Thoma was still resting on his hand – he noticed just how tired she looked. Ayaka hugged herself as she leaned in the doorway, wrapped in a soft blue comforter. The kind of vulnerability she had not allowed herself to show in years, not even to him. But here she was, so exhausted and so drained she could not pass up the soft blanket Thoma had made for her. She cared every ounce as much as Ayato did, and while he had run, she had done her best for her friend.
“Not for this,” Ayato said, and realised her earlier words sat in his chest like the splinters of an arrow removed badly from his chest. He could not - he had thought so long she knew why he held back.
“He needed you,” Ayaka said softly, before Ayato could ever find the words to say you know I care, too much so, do you not?
He averted his eyes, feeling like a coward. “He needed the leader of his clan.”
Ayaka frowned at him, that same quiet storm in her eyes. “You know it is more than that. You must, do not play either of us for a fool.”
"Wouldn't you afford your brother a little dignity?" Ayato asked, voice strangled. Because of course he knew. He'd known from - honestly, had there been a single moment he could pinpoint in which he had fallen for Thoma? An avalanche needed but a small moment to set it off, but that did not mean there had not been years and years worth of snowfall, each flake both insignificant and holding the power to bring down the world around it.
Ayaka, to his horrified surprise, responded to his plea with fury rapidly approaching unbridled. "Dignity? You ask for dignity! What dignity is there in blinding yourself to the world?!"
Her words hit with the force of a fist against a tender bruise, and Ayato made a small sound of pain that had Thoma curl closer, as if trying to soothe him – even lost to a haze of heat and suppressants and horror, still he tried to soothe him. "You are right," Ayato breathed, feeling each steady breath of Thoma's against the inside of his wrist. The warmth of his cheek in his palm. Both powerful and vulnerable, with a burning, bleeding heart, so infinitely precious and beloved. "But I cannot hurt him. I cannot risk it. He would -" He would take a blade in Ayato's stead. He would endure rumours and gossip that would only turn more vicious were he to warm his master's bed.
He would. Warm his master's bed, as it were. Such was Thoma's loyalty and Ayato could not … Ayato had to protect him. At least in the ways he actually could. "I shall not force myself on him," Ayato said, voice leaving no room for doubt.
Ayaka's anger softened with confusion, her brows furrowed still. "Ayato, what do you mean? It's … isn't he hurting already? Have you never noticed?"
Noticed? The only thing to notice were his misplaced feelings for a man who would bear them out of loyalty alone. His dirtiest secret, buried away deep down, hidden from daylight until he could be what his clan and his friend needed.
"Trust me that I will do my best for him," he said tiredly. It was all he could promise.
"Ayato …" His sister spoke slowly, as if pondering her words even as she spoke his name. "What are we talking about?"
Do not make me say it. I plead with you, do not make me speak it aloud. He wanted to beg at her feet. But Ayato could not continue being a coward when his sister stood tall and unflinching. "The inappropriate feelings I harbor," he said with as much dignity as he could muster, as much as was left.
Ayaka stared at him with the mute shock of someone learning new information, which made Ayato raise a single brow her direction. He struggled to keep face, knowing there was a splotchy flush down his cheeks and neck and chest. As a boy he had been the most unseemly when flushed. These days, he simply had himself under better control.
"What do you mean, your - Ayato, I was talking about his feelings for you! I know you've never considered him nor acknowledged him as an omega who could - who could …" She trailed off, her eyes widening. Ayaka squeezed the comforter around her shoulders, wrinkling the soft fabric. "You've always pushed him away so vehemently. You've rejected any hint of his - Ayato." Ayaka stared at him now, all rage having left her. Eyes wide and soft with pain. "Ayato, you love him?"
The very question sliced his chest open with precision, exposing his heart. Asking Ayato this while Thoma held onto him, touched him -
He only looked back at his sister. Ayato had no words that could breach the silence. Do not be cruel, Ayaka. Of course I love him. I've always loved him. How could you not know?
"Why?" she asked, horrified. "Why do you treat him this way? How could you push him away and reject him when you love him? Ayato! No matter what I try or do, no matter which alpha comes to court him endorsed by you, his heart will never choose anyone but you, so why - ?!"
What? That - "I tried all I could so he could find happiness. An alpha he feels no obligation to -"
"Obligation!" Ayaka's anger rose again, straining her voice. "You are such a fool, brother. I know duty is our birth right as much as it is our burden, but how could you - !” There was something fragile in her voice. The way she said it, like it struck home for her the same way it did for Ayato. “At least in this, should we not be allowed some liberty to choose the partner we wish?”
Ayato swallowed, hard. His sister deserved it. She deserved every happiness, and she deserved a partner who loved her, whom she had chosen. As for him … “It does not matter. All that matters is that Thoma has the choice he deserves. That he knows he may have dedicated his whole life to the Kamisato clan, but he does not have to - I would never expect him to -”
Ayaka closed her eyes, fists clenched tightly at her sides. She breathed in deeply and breathed out, doing so several times over as if collecting herself. Then she opened her eyes, sharp and cold as ice. “We will speak of this again, you and I. When Thoma is better. When neither of us are quite so … fragile.”
Fragile was not a word Ayato usually would associate with himself, but tonight - ever since he had found Thoma there -
“Let us speak again, then,” he said, feeling very tired at the prospect of having to pry his chest open again this way. Even when it was his sister, just putting his emotions to words had left him raw and aching and yearning for everything he could never have. How could he not yearn, with Thoma here, like this? “Ayaka … since you seemed surprised by my … admission. I truly have his best interest at heart.”
Ayaka looked at him, unwavering. Her eyes were warmer again, but her lips still pursed, her body stiff. “I believe that you think what you’re doing is what is best for him,” she said. Which was a very diplomatic way of saying you are full of shit.
“I just want him to be okay,” Ayato said, his voice so very … feeble. He felt like a boy again. Lost and still believing there was someone he could turn to when he was overwhelmed - parents who knew all. Adults who knew best. But here he was, head of the house, expected to lead and protect and all he did was fumble and hope for the best.
Usually he managed. Both to fulfil his tasks, and make it seem intentional, easy. But tonight he had failed Thoma, and that hurt worst of all.
“Take care of him, Ayato. Don’t leave his side.” Ayaka stared at him, eyes so very intense. “Promise me. He needs you.”
“I promise,” Ayato said before he could think better of it.
“Good,” Ayaka breathed. “Good. I will ask -” She cut off, both of them knowing full well she had meant to ask Thoma to help them right now - with a snack, refreshments, a smile. He would have immediately turned the bleak atmosphere of the room, brought this moonless night the light of stars. “I will see to it that you will have food, and tea. Ayato … take care of yourself. I love you. You know that, right?”
Ayato just looked at her. “It is the truth I would never doubt, no matter what. I can’t believe you’d think me fool enough to take harsh words for a loss of your love for me. Or mine for you.” He gave her a tired smile.
She smiled back, drawing the comforter more tightly around her shoulders. His little sister, so grown and so wise and so kind all the same. “I’ll see to it that I’ll get food and drink in you, then. Thoma would be so upset if he woke up and realised I let you starve yourself.”
It was that casual hope, that casual confidence that lightened Ayato’s bruised heart. Because Thoma would wake. Because he had not been too late. Because wounds could heal, as long as there was life.
“Make enough for the both of us, then. Neither of us should dare face his wrath if we do not keep up.”