There is something confining, Fai thinks, about only being able to speak when it matters least.
He hadn't minded at first, though being ripped from one world and being placed in another was quite unexpected, had been amused by Kurogane's frustration as they'd had to act things out to each other and then taken gleefully to pretending to be unable to speak, or to have taken a vow of silence, or whatever excuse it was that Kurogane had made to the army, speaking the same tongue as him, smiling as they handed him a sword and then shoved a bow into Fai's hands.
It had been fun, a competition of sorts, at first.
See who can take out the most soldiers, see who can get the most wine when the market came every eight days, the best wine, the cheapest.
Of course Kurogane didn't ever realise that they were playing these games. All the more fun for Fai.
Until it had stopped being fun.
He'd thought that he would pick up the language quicker but he has no reason to use it except privately, with Kurogane, and what could he really want to say to him that he could communicate with a fractured greeting and some kind of battlefield good luck phrase. The words stagnate on his tongue as he tries to say they in front of a polished bronze plate he's been using as a mirror.
He knows that if he managed to get it across to Kurogane the man would try his best to teach him but some part of him hates the idea of that, of having to ask for something like that, having to play it out. He knows that he can't just break whatever reason Kurogane fed everyone else either, their position as two foreigners suspicious despite the fact that their eyes have changed colour and they are two of the strongest people in the encampment.
So what's the point, after all, in learning, in speaking?
He asks that of Kurogane one night, gets back furrowed brow and sharp words he doesn't understand.
"Well what would I say to you anyway, to you alone, here?" He asks, as if Kurogane had responded anything intelligible to him, "What would we even talk about? War, the kids, our wishes? No. It's better this way, that you be the mouthpiece, keep us out of trouble, keep us safe because that's what you do." Fai sits against the opposite wall, sweeps back his hair which is getting a little long, brushes it behind his ear.
There's a shift on Kurogane's face. The words are different, just as sharp but there's concern there too, confusion.
"Oh, silly Kuro-puu, that is just what you do. You protect everyone, even people like me who would kill you in your sleep if it benefited them in some way, even if they don't want the life you're protecting anyway." He tells him.
The other man frowns, tilts his head to the side, crosses his arms, says something even softer, eyes on Fai's face.
"What would I say to you anyway? Tell you about how I doomed my brother, my family and my country with my birth? About how I made a deal to hurt all of you before I even knew you, just to stay alive, let my brother die, just to stay alive, and now I don't even want it. Would I tell you about how I've taken his name, the only thing he had left, as if it compensates I have done to do that? Would I tell you about Ashura-ou, my father and king, a man who I twisted until he killed everyone, just as my family had done originally, in a world so far from that one." He asks, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.
Kurogane stares at him confusedly, jerks his thumb in the direction of the other country in confusion, so far across the land.
"As, you're right. I should just leave," Fai tells him, "and I suppose I would if I weren't such a coward." The mage stands, smiles at Kurogane who is frowning at him, trying to mime out something which Fai still doesn't understand, speaking slowly.
"Thanks for listening, I guess." Fai says, smiling bitterly, patting Kurogane's shoulder lightly as he heads out into the hallway, to the closest door, outside into the rain.
He feels Kurogane's gaze on him still.