A Munto Fanfiction: Home Is Where the Heart Is © RedWingedAngel002
Disclaimer: Munto; Sora o Miageru Shōjo no Hitomi ni Utsuru Sekai © Kyoto Animation; Yoshiji Kigami and Tomoe Aratani
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fantasy, and Romance
Summary: Five years have passed since his journey in search of home. Finally successful, will all be as left behind? MxY.

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A/N: I'm alive, I swear. I have moved and am living in Japan as an English teacher. Work and life is an adjustment — AKA: I'm adulting — so I'll update with what time and interest I have. The Munto-fandom is still dear to my heart, just different priorities are now in order.
This is an extension of the following comic: fav . me/d6ruf1u

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Song: Wayward Son by: PlasticPeacePerson (cover)

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"Talking."
'Thinking.'
Memories/Flashbacks.

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Chapter 1: Slave of Time

His breath was bated, trembled within a palpitating chest, while pinprick gold searched his surroundings. Ever hopeful, Munto struggled to rein his excitement. Finally, after all this time…

…He was home.

Yes, it was true; there was Akuto here. It was a literal fresh breath of air, compared to the five stagnant years of what he was required to recycle internally within himself. The relief had his knees shaking and mind light-headed.

Behind a tarp kiosk, he scoured the bustling market and pulled the fur-hemmed hood closer to his face. However focused, he visibly jumped when a small hand tugged at the dark cloak trailing amongst his boots.

"Hey, Mister, I really like your earrings," a young girl craned to his height. "Would you like to buy some jewelry? My father is a really good blacksmith."

Crouching to her level, he patted the magenta tinted wisps. "Thank you, Little One, but I am in a hurry."

"Aww, shucks," she kicked the dirt. "Aren't you hot in that? It's summer!"

A corner of his lip pulled. "Indeed, but I have been on a very long journey. The cover is necessary."

"Your clothes look from Ond. Are you from there? We can get you some water, if you want?" She insistently pulled on his sleeve. "Please, Papa has been having in such poor luck lately. Even seeing a face will cheer him up, I'm sure of it!"

"Alright, alright. Water would be wonderful," he chuckled and waved a silencing motion to his puckered mouth, "However, if you want to gain more customers, you should not reveal the whole truth, child. It may dishonor the business."

"Oh!" her hands wrung at the yellow dress amongst fretting, "Please don't tell him that! He'll get mad!"

"I will keep my word," he ruffled her hair and stood. "Please lead the way, my Lady."

Giggling, she skippered forward.

Looking over the inclining hill behind him was his kingdom, beckoning.

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"Please, take it," Munto handed over the velvet pouch. "It is not much."

The elder's eyes widened at the amount, whence pulling the strung lip open. "Oh no, good sir, I must recline!"

"For your time," he exchanged a knowing look to the sheepish girl gripping her father's khaki pants. "I enjoyed the company."

It was his truth.

"…Well, if you insist. Thank you, kindly." Reluctant, he scratched the back of his balding scalp. "I did not catch your name?"

Stiffening, he took the hand before him in sign of gratitude. "I must make haste."

Behind his retreating back, the elder called out, in question, "Lad, are you by any chance related to the royal family? Your hair; I have only seen such a vibrant color through them. His Majesty would be honored by the visit, for certain."

The forced grin upon his lips fell.

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'His Majesty... His Majesty?'

The simple term was buzzing within his reeling mind, all throughout his trek up the dried lands. Fearing the worst, he could only conclude one thing:

'…Did Yumemi remarry?'

An absolute growl escaped and shook he himself from the rising malice. No, she must have sensed he was alive, just as he, for the echo within his heart, that of which was hers through their bond sustained all those years ago, was one of the very few hopes kept him sane at his lowest point.

Steam hissed through his flared nostrils, as he made way up the marble steps, and to a set of pleated guards, once reaching the platform top.

"Welcome," they greeted, stoic, but kind. "What is your business here at the Magical Palace?"

"I have a requested for the King," he claimed, unable to hold his icy glare, "I am from the town below."

Taking a wary glance toward the other — his tone was caught — they allowed entry.

"Follow."

Munto's fist, adorned by the golden ring of their vows, clenched.

As he walked amongst the pillared halls, he found something peculiar: the architecture, it was not of what he recalled; was bulkier, thicker. Brows knitting, the unsettlement within his gut rose.

"Come now, hurry up," the one on his right demanded, snip. "No stragglers."

Huffing, he picked up his pace until they had reached the familiar double-doors.

Another disturbing note was recalled as the guards spoke with the royal hall's set: Why could he not sense Yumemi's spirit? When they were in near vicinity, each was able to reach out to the other, psychically. Munto braved head-on what was to be revealed, as the entryway opened.

Ahead, were two thrones, the finely cut stone custom lavishly for those who sat: the Lord, a robust young man with slicked hair and garbed in blue and crimson silk, the Lady, fair in complexion and attire, with a rope cascading down her gown's skirts. Their silver crowns shown with impeccable radiance, triggering all he could recall from watercolor dreams long passed.

In other words: it was Father and Mother.

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— Ari [9.25.17]