Ever true to his word, Tadashi spent his first year without Tsukki in emotional agony. Although he had not known it before, the golden fae had been the only thing in Tadashi's life worth living for. It was only a few months into his voluntary exile from the faerie realm that Tadashi realized this. Alas, it had come too little too late; he could not go back on his choice. That did not stop Tadashi from wishing he could change his mind every day, though. He had made his decision, though, and so live a human life he must.

After a solid year of wallowing in shame and fear and grief, Tadashi, or rather, his incredibly foul-tempered father, forced himself to pick up with work at the apothecary. It was not the same, though. Where he once saw warm and grateful smiles, he found pity and poorly hidden fear. The rest of the village saw Tadashi as saved from the fae, yes, but they eyed him with a new fear and wariness as if he would snap at any moment. There were times when Tadashi wished he would.

Back were the whispers from his childhood, the theories and slander spread by town gossips. He had worked so hard to be seen as part of the town, as a person and an equal, but now the people were wary and suspicious of him once again. The charming and likable person others once saw shattered, as the townsfolk chose to see him as a danger, a threat with no loyalties. They hid it well, or well enough, but Tadashi still heard.

Hushed whispers when his back was turned, disdainful conversations just loud enough to pass through the tavern walls, suspicious looks, and tense meetings, they followed Tadashi like a plague. While he had been subject to rumors before, they were mainly about his mother; now, they were about him. In just under two years, Tadashi had become a living ghost story. Mothers used him as an example of the dangers of the fae, teens whispered about him in the dark to scare their friends, no one ever spoke to him unless they needed something.

The theories were, as with all small-town gossip, plentiful. Some claimed that Tadashi was an especially good liar and that he was a Nameless living in their midst. Others claimed he was truly half-fae, or a changeling, only there to drain the life of the village. Those ones didn't bother Tadashi as much; he knew them to be false, Tsukki never had his name, and if he was part fae, someone surely would've told him. No, the rumor that stung the most was the one where everyone saw him as human. The younger people all favored the first two stories, but anyone who knew Tadashi's mother would say the same thing; 'That boy is just like his mother, too curious for his own good. He doesn't accept his place in life. He'll end up dead, just like her'. To those people, Tadashi was already dead; it would only be a matter of time.

The people who would willingly interact with Tadashi outside of the apothecary were few and far between; even his father refused to acknowledge him. There were, however, some who didn't seem to mind Tadashi's reputation. Shimada-san was a local butcher who firmly refused to let the town's opinion sway his views on anyone. While picking up a salve for a cut, Shimada had struck up a friendly conversation with Tadashi, seemingly unafraid of him. It was a pleasant change from how the rest of the town treated him, and Tadashi grew to appreciate Shimada's visits, now without the prompting of medical issues. With Shimada's kindly friendship came an olive branch from his apprentice-turned-employee, Ennoshita. Ennoshita was a year older than Tadashi and, much like his mentor, cared little for the superstitious rumors of the town. It was in these two pillars of friendship and solidarity, that Tadashi took solace in the wake of another tragedy.

Early into the third year of Tadashi's new Tsukki-less life, Tadashi was struck with a simultaneous disaster and blessing. Tadashi had ended the night as he often did; by hurrying through a tense and hostile dinner with his father and then wrapping himself in the threadbare blankets he called a bed. What his father did on these evenings eluded Tadashi, and he had no desire to know. What Tadashi did know, however, was that by the next morning, his father was lying dead in his bed. It had come as quite the shock to Tadashi, who had been expecting to wake his assumedly drunk or hungover father. Instead of a flushed, irritable, alive body, was a greying stiff corpse, already cold. There wasn't much Tadashi could do; even as a medic, dead men could not come back to life.

The aftermath was simultaneously freeing and soul-crushingly restricting. The wretched man who had neglected and abused Tadashi for years was gone, but so was his last family member. While his father had been an awful, despicable man, he was all Tadashi had; the last remnants of a family that was never meant to be. Yet, Tadashi was not devastated as he thought he would be instead, it felt as if thousands of stones had been lifted off his chest, and he could breathe for the very first time. The rush of conflicting emotions confused and worried Tadashi. This was not how normal people felt about the death of a parent. All throughout his mourning period, Shimada and Ennoshita remained there for him. They consoled him, assured him he was justified in the relief he felt, and helped him sort out the finances associated with inheriting a business and house. It truly was a shame the rest of the town wasn't nearly supportive as the two butchers.

While the townsfolk had originally been suspicious of Tadashi, they all accepted that he was mostly harmless. His father's death was likely due to his deteriorating health and alcoholism, but it was the final nail in Tadashi's coffin. Fearful and aggressive mutterings spread through the village like wildfire and pitted the people against Tadashi. Had he called upon the fair folk to curse and smite his father with their magic? Maybe he had used inhuman magic of his own to kill the man. The town had heard the shouts and screams, the smashing of bottles and vile words in the dead of the night, Tadashi surely had motive. Maybe he had snapped and killed his father with his own hands and covered it up. The few that thought Tadashi incapable of murder believed the disgrace he had brought upon the family had driven his father to suicide.

If it weren't for the intervention of Ennoshita and his friends, Tadashi may have very well been executed. When the town rallied to rid themselves of him, it was Ennoshita, Asahi, and Nishinoya, who stood up for him. While the town originally hadn't wanted to listen to such young people, they had eventually caved when the three young men threatened to leave and take their skills with them. Nishinoya was integral to the fish provided to the town; without him, they might starve, and Asahi was the only tailor in the vicinity. The town simply could not afford to lose the economic support of the fish market, tailor, and butchery combined, not to mention their only medic. And so, albeit reluctantly, the town allowed Tadashi to stay, alive and unharmed.

Another year passes, mundane and tense as always, and Tadashi learned to appreciate the stillness of his life. It is not until the fourth year after the separation that anyone new comes to the town. They are not a notably large village, too close to the fae forest to expand, but they have just enough trade to prosper. Still, it is not often that people see their town for permanent residency. It comes as quite a shock then, when a young woman and her mother choose to move in.

At first, Tadashi is hesitant to seek the newcomers out; it seems likely that someone has already made his first impression for him, and Tadashi hated scaring people. Luckily, he did not need to wait long to meet the two women. Barely a day after they had entered town, the woman Tadashi's age sought him out. She was a small, skittish thing, with wide brown eyes and short blonde hair. As she nervously stuttered out her request for face cream and basic medicines, Tadashi tried his best to put her at ease with his once-effective friendly charm. It seemed to do the trick, and before he knew it, Yachi had introduced herself and left with a promise to visit again. Over the next few months, Yachi wormed herself into the hearts of Tadashi's friend group, and they settled into a comfortable routine of tea and chatter. Such a close friendship with a woman, however, came with its own caveats.

Tadashi had fully expected for Yachi to find love in the village, she had expressed a desire for a husband on occasion before, but he was unsure of the place she found it. Tadashi was no stranger to pining, and he recognized the signs in Yachi right away. The way she always sat closest to him, the stolen glances, the shy giggles, the easy blush that Tadashi drew from her, Yachi looked at Tadashi as if he had hung the stars and moon in the sky, and it scared him. Yachi was the first to confess, of course, and Tadashi was struck with a dilemma. He could reject her and crush her heart or accept and lie. Tadashi knew the pain of heartbreak all too well and would never wish that upon his friend, and moreover, Tadashi had no reason to reject her. He could never publicly love a man as he so wished, and would never get over Tsukki, courting Yachi would make her happy and prevent the village from knowing the unnaturalness of his love. So, he accepted.

Tadashi did his best to do good by Yachi; he brought her gifts, paid her compliments, and took her to the nice places in town. He found himself enjoying his time with Yachi and thought, hoped, that perhaps he could grow to love her in the way she wanted. Each day Tadashi could see Yachi's happiness grow, her smiles brighter. He heard from gossipers of how she gushed over him amongst her lady friends. When the summer festival came, Tadashi escorted her and kept her company as she wished. And on that night of the festival, he asked Yachi's mother for permission to marry her. He danced with her in the square and proposed to her under a star-light sky, just as her female friends said she wanted. Yachi said yes, and Tadashi was simply glad to make his friend happy.

The wedding ceremony was a small thing in the height of fall. Red and gold leaves fluttered around Yachi in her pale gown and skittered across the ground in an erratic dance. The setting sun shone golden on her hair and lit her eyes in a spectral glow, and while the priest did his duty, Tadashi couldn't help but think of Tsukki. Oh, how Tadashi wished for Tsukki to be at the altar instead of Yachi. Her hair was golden thread, but could never compare to the silken moonbeams that graced the top of Tsukki's head. Tadashi knew he shouldn't think of these things on the day of his wedding, but he couldn't help himself. As they recited their vows, Tadashi knew he could never love Yachi beyond a friend, but if he couldn't have his happiness, at least he could give Yachi hers.

As according to tradition, they would have to wait for spring to come again until the two could move in together, and as such, Tadashi had several months left of living alone. He took it upon himself to clean and organize the home that he would soon be sharing with not only Yachi, Hitoka now, but also her aging mother. And so, Tadashi spent his savings making the house a home. A proper bed with blankets finally graced his room, broken furniture was fixed, and curtains and carpets found their way into most rooms. The last to be redone was his father's room. Tadashi knew his father had kept a few mementos from his mother, so before getting the room professionally redone, Tadashi searched for what few artifacts he could find. In a small box at the back of the closet, he found a sacred few items, moth-bitten and faded. A handkerchief, a ring, and a book of secrets.

Vying for any connection to his mother, Tadashi redecorated the room and delved into the mysterious little book. It would have been better if he didn't.

Within the brittle leather binding and flimsy parchment pages was a recounting of his mother's life, starting at her union with his father. She had never loved him, the pages said, had never wanted to marry in the first place. She was a woman who loved her freedom, who sought knowledge and beauty, who wanted to learn and explore and live. She wrote of the forest, the plants and animals within it, the hidden paths and clean springs. Tadashi's mother knew the forest just as well as he did. Inked on the pages were marvelings at faerie rings and enchanted glens and magic herbs. Her whole heart was poured out onto the pages, and on them, she wrote of her love for a faerie. Clever and charming and handsome, she called him, new and beautiful and exciting. She wrote of midnight trysts and clandestine meetings, of forbidden love and sweet embraces. She wrote of the life that had started to grow inside her as a result. She wrote of Tadashi, her bastard child, born out of wedlock to a forbidden union between fae and human. She wrote of his freckles, and how they reminded her of her lover. And on the last page, she wrote a hopeful story that Tadashi knew would end in betrayal. She wanted to leave Tadashi's father and bring the two of them to the fae realm. She wrote of her plan to form an official union with her fae lover by exchanging names. Evidently, she had been tricked.

The entire thing left Tadashi reeling. It all made sense, why the woods cared for him so, why he inherently knew the rules of the fae, why his medicines worked so well, all of it. He was half-fae, and neither world had wanted him. His mother had died trying to bargain for a better life for the both of them. The burden of truth burned him like the fire that had singed his mother's skin. Before Tadashi knew what he was doing, he bolted out of the house, past the night watch shouting at him to stop, and into the forest. He ran and weaved and dodged, following paths only his feet knew until the guards lost his trail. Still, he kept running, only coming to a stop at the wisteria pond, now frozen over.

Standing there, illuminated by the light of the full moon and twinkling stars, was a tall figure. Long limbs and fingers and ears, swirling black markings, needle-pointed teeth, a sharply defined face, and sharper eyes. Tsukki.