Tsukishima hated to admit it, but he missed his time on that blasted train. Kidnapping and impending war aside, it had actually been rather pleasant. He realized, only after he returned to the life of a royal, that the Nekarasi had been the first place he felt that he belonged. The palace was lovely, he'd fool no one if he said otherwise, a masterful testament to architecture and the empire that kept him safe and comfortable, but it was a cold and formal place. Nothing like the welcoming chaos and frenzy of the constantly moving locomotive. He hated to sound ungrateful, but it was true.
When he was younger, Tsukishima had reveled in his easy palace life. He was a spoiled kid, and he knew it; he used to take great joy in his ability to boss people around. But life had changed him. Or rather, a select few people had changed him. The easy camaraderie on the Nekarasi turned his world upside down. There, he wasn't the crazy prince, to be waited on hand and foot to avoid wrath, he was just himself. No one tiptoed around him like he was fragile glass, and no one valued his premonitions over his actual person; he was just another man on the Nekarasi. There, he felt freedom from the isolation of forced superiority and suspected insanity. Goddess, how he longed for that freedom once more.
Or maybe he just longed for Yamaguchi. Tsukishima had been in over his head the second he set eyes on the other boy. His thin, freckle-covered frame, his kind yet clever eyes, his unruly mess of olive hair, only the adrenaline rush had kept him from stumbling over his words like an utter buffoon when they had first met, and it only got worse from there. Yamaguchi was so kind, so understanding, and determined; he had no reason to help Tsukishima, no real reason to do any of what he did, yet he did it anyway. How someone who had lived through such constant tragedy could bring themselves to be so kind was a mystery. Tsukishima had wanted to cry when he saw what Yamaguchi had done to keep him out of harm's way. Tsukishima was no stranger to emotions, he felt them often, but the unyielding pull he felt for Yamaguchi could be nothing less than love. He hated the feeling and the hopelessness that came with the freckled boy's departure.
He despised the thought of the wedding that Yamaguchi would eventually partake in, and yet, he would give anything to be there if only to see Yamaguchi again. It didn't seem like he was on the guest list, though, and the desperation ate him up inside. Was it the kiss? Had it been too much, had he scared Yamaguchi away? Was that why the other never responded to the letters he sent; did Yamaguchi hate him now? Maybe Yamaguchi had actually wanted this, maybe some part of him had indeed loved Daishou. Or had Daishou locked Yamaguchi up and sent him somewhere far away to live out his life in misery? Tsukishima wasn't sure which option was worse.
The only saving grace to his dwindling sanity was Yachi, who had also remained in the palace. Her swift promotion had earned her the rank of Tsukishima's personal guard, which he had to admit was for purely selfish reasons. He knew Yachi longed to do good and help others, something difficult to accomplish in the confines of the palace, but the girl had assured him that she was happy with her position. Tsukishima figured that she too, had grown to miss the freedom of adventure, unhindered by bureaucracy and rank, that had come with the Nekarasi. As lonely as the palace seemed in comparison to the bustle of the train, it was good to have a friend who understood his plight.
Yachi, unfortunately, had not received letters from Yamaguchi either. Tsukishima had to quash the vindictive sort of jealousy in his chest that relievedly reveled in the notion that Yamaguchi hadn't been ignoring him specifically. The rest of him was rather concerned with the lack of communication. Tsukishima had hoped that, since the Yamaguchi had been such good friends with Yachi, she would have at least been able to keep in contact with the other boy, but to no such luck. She tried just as hard as he did to reach out to their friend, but in the end, all they could do was share in the disappointed silence. To make matters worse, the letters from the Nekarasi crew were also few and far between. It was difficult to keep up with an ever-moving train, and the crew was constantly busy with work, something that could not be said for Tsukishima.
With a lack of anything else to do, Tsukishima and Yachi had taken to wandering around the city as often as they could manage. The empire still had no idea what Tsukishima was meant to look like, the few upper-crust nobility that had met him hadn't seen his face since he was a small child, so as long as he had Yachi by his side to ease his family's worries, he was free to traverse the city and act as if he were just an extraordinarily wealthy nobleman instead of a prince. If nothing else, the semi-weekly walks at least gave the two friends time to catch the local gossip, something Tsukishima was loath to admit he had become invested in.
Now, in the early days of spring, Haibuichi was blossoming. The blanket of snow from the winter still remained, the first month of spring was still a cold one, but underneath it was life. Green peeked out from under the white at every turn. Grass poked through the snow in patches of pale vermillion, perennial plants sent up tentative shoots of green, and the trees were bedazzled with the budding beginnings of new foliage. The hopeful growth made Tsukishima's heartache even more. Yamaguchi would've loved the city like this. The other boy had only seen it under the frozen shine of winter, but it was in the green seasons that Haibuichi really showed its beauty.
As their city strolls went on, both Tsukishima and Yachi went out of their way to point out and peruse things they thought the others would enjoy. There, two buildings down from the treasury, was the empire's official public library with enough books that it might have given Akaashi a heart attack if he were there to see it. In the shopping district were rows upon rows of restaurants that Yachi was sure Kageyama and Hinata would kill to eat at. Further on, down past the library and in a quieter part of the city, was the university, perhaps Yamaguchi would've liked to attend it. The longer they spent away from their friends, the more Tsukishima and Yachi realized just how much they longed to see them again.
It was after yet another long but monotonous day of perusing the city with Yachi that Tsukishima had another dream. He had gone to bed full of worry for Yamaguchi, and for once, the Goddess offered him clarity on the situation.
Tsukishima was sat on a cold stone bench amongst a crowd of thousands and thousands of faceless spectators. To his right sat a masked figure in fine but foreign clothes, and on his left was Kageyama, eyes full of horror and rage. They were all dressed for hot weather, in short sleeves and loose garments, but the air felt freezing against Tsukishima's exposed arms and face. The crowds stamped their feet and roared in a deafening cry matched only by the howling of the wind and pained groans.
Tsukishima looked down to see what the commotion was about, and in the centre of the oblong circle that made up the stadium, was a floor of sand and dirt, stained with blood and whatever other fluids might be spilled in battle. Animals and people alike lay dead on the ground, some swarmed with flies and bloated, others still fresh and staining the soil red. None of them looked to have ever been in good health. The people cheered louder as a man rose from the apparent seat of honour and spoke words that Tsukishima just couldn't make out.
The ground rumbled and shook, the crowd shrieked and clamoured in delight, or fear, he couldn't tell. From the floor of the colosseum rose two cages of shining bronze metal, each with a figure inside. In one cage, on the side further from Tsukishima, was a massive bear with an ashen coat; it was heavily scarred and missing patches of fur. In the other cage was a crumpled and barely alive man.
Both were tipped out of their confines, and Tsukishima recognized the man as he righted himself. Yamaguchi, gaunt and thin with hair cut short and ragged, stood pitted against a seemingly rabid bear. Tsukishima called out, Yamaguchi looked up at him in surprise, the bear charged. Someone pushed Tsukishima over, and he hit his head on the stone stadium bench and passed out.
Tsukishima woke up on a beach of black sand and the sun setting in the sky. The air was filled with a dark crimson haze, and the entire place reeked of smoke and iron. To his back was a forested island set alight in giant creeping flames. To his front was a seething ocean, full of sinking ships and crying sailors. He was alone on the beach save for two battling animals.
A massive green viper, longer than Tsukishima was tall, faced down against an equally large grey owl. The snake flared its hood and feigned a strike, only for the owl to scream its wretched cry and dodge. It was clear, however, that the bird was injured, it drug a broken wing behind it and limped on legs not meant for the ground. The viper lunged again, and this time struck true. It coiled around the still fighting owl and…
Tsukishima woke up, for real this time, with the shrill cry of a dying bird ringing in his ears. The colosseum, the great arena where he had seen Yamaguchi, emaciated and waiting for death. It could only be one place. Fukoni had a great colosseum in its heyday, before the revolts, but it had been shut down four years prior when the insurrections started, or so everyone had thought. What on earth was Yamaguchi doing there? What of the snake and owl, the burning island, and the drowning sailors?
The first part of the premonition was clear enough, Yamaguchi would be in dire trouble very soon if someone didn't get him out of Daishou's clutches. The second half though, that part wasn't nearly as literal. Tsukishima would have to try and interpret the symbols if he wanted to gather any meaning from the dream.
As Tsukishima got up from bed to write down his dream while it was still fresh, he heard a noise from his window. He grabbed his knife and crept slowly to the balcony, fully ready for the worst, only to find a massive crow, about the size of a falconer's hawk. It flapped its wings when it saw him and cawed loudly as it hopped from place to place. In its beak was a letter written on crude paper.
The bird perched dutifully on Tsukishima's shoulder as he took the parchment and began to read. It was written in small and messy handwriting, clearly rushed and almost frantic. There was no name from the sender, but it was addressed directly to him. Scribbled in that sloppy scrawl, was a warning and a cry for help. The Slithering Isles was planning something sinister, it said, and Yamaguchi was in grave danger, it urged him to take immediate action.
Now, Tsukishima was nothing if not pragmatic. There was no way he would let Yamaguchi suffer danger alone and without help. He packed his bags that very same night, only with what he needed most and could carry. He left a hastily written note for his parents, to ease their worry over his disappearance, and woke Yachi.
"Wha's going on, Tsukishima? It's still the dead of night." Yachi groggily rubbed her eyes and squinted to read the crow's letter that Tsukishima had thrust in her face.
"Yamaguchi's in danger. Pack your things, we make way for the Nekarasi tonight." Tsukishima was going to see Yamaguchi to safety if it killed him.