And here's the next chapter to the fic!

I'm really happy with this chapter, mostly because it's the first time that the boys meet. ^w^ We're always big fans of their interactions, meetings or otherwise, and that's awesome.

I hope you all love it!


CHAPTER FOUR


Shion considered pretending he wasn't home.

He thought of stepping away from the window, curling beneath the thick blankets spread over his little bed, and pretending he hadn't seen the silver-eyed stranger standing outside his fence. He didn't think the stranger would approach his cabin and burst the door down.

Although, Shion couldn't figure out what someone from the Mao tribe would want with him. The symbols on the stranger's bow were those associated with charms and magic; everything about them matched the stories Shion had heard about the Mao tribe. If the Mao were as connected to magical energy as the stories claimed, then the stranger already knew Shion was inside.

He exhaled and tried to relax. Perhaps the stranger wasn't here to cause him harm. If the Mao were indeed connected with magic, as the rumors claimed, then perhaps the stranger had approached as a kindred spirit, drawn to the magical energy resonating from the charms Shion had painstakingly woven. Perhaps the stranger was merely curious as to who'd patched them together.

Shion clenched his hands around the handle of the water bucket and set it down gently. There wasn't any use in pretending he wasn't home if the stranger could sense him inside. In fact, it would be quite rude to keep a potential guest waiting.

He wandered to the door, snatched his cloak off the hook, and tossed it around his shoulders. With the approaching chill in the air, his guest wouldn't think it suspicious for him to come outside with it on. Shion made certain his hands were plainly visible and empty, displaying that he didn't have any weapons, and opened the door.

He squinted into the sunlight. The sky retained its blue color, though the sun had begun its descent toward the mountains. Soon it would be replaced with smears of purple and pink, and then shadows would engulf the land and plunge it into the night.

Shion spotted the stranger. They'd taken a step back as Shion opened the door, but they hadn't retreated into the forests from which they'd manifested. The silver flash of their quicksilver eyes darted to Shion's hands—as Shion had anticipated they might. Once the stranger confirmed that Shion had no weapon in hand, or anywhere on his person, their gaze returned to his face.

Beneath the shadows of the dark hood, Shion could only make out the distinct lines of a heart-shaped face. He couldn't discern the stranger's age or gender from the shadows scattered across their features, obscuring their nose, mouth, and general facial structure, but he could see pale skin—much paler than Shion had seen on the folks living in Kronos.

"Well met, stranger," Shion greeted.

The stranger inclined their head at the sound of Shion's voice, and replied, "Not wise to open your door to a stranger, is it?"

Their voice brushed over Shion like the wings of a delicate bird. He shivered at the almost musical note to it. It was distinctively a male's voice, and there was a sharpened edge to it that Shion recognized from his time spent around the men and women of Kronos.

The stranger didn't trust him.

"Perhaps not," Shion allowed. "Well, then, it's nice to meet you. My name's Shion." He gave the stranger a big smile that he hoped was friendly and not mistakenly suspicious. "There. Now we aren't strangers."

For a moment, the air between them was silent.

"You're odd."

Shion's smile dropped.

The hooded figure went on, "A stranger shows up and your first instinct is to welcome them with open arms and then give them your name?"

"That's the polite thing to do," Shion grumbled.

They clicked their tongue.

"...Will you please tell me your name, so this doesn't get uncomfortable?"

"No."

Shion frowned.

"You can," the hooded figure went on, "however, call me Nezumi. That's as good a name as any."

Shion rolled the name around in his skull like a loose stone. Nezumi. A strange name that didn't seem to fit the stranger's otherworldly presence and mysterious aura. Roughly translated, the name meant 'rat'. Shion figured it must have been a nickname; the Mao were rumored to be hesitant to give out their true names, believing that the trading of such opened them to the risk of curses.

Shion had never been concerned with name or blood magic. He knew plenty of true names, but had never thought of using them to cause harm. He handed his own out because it held no risks. No one in Kronos could wield magic the way Shion could—even those born with magical inclinations had never experimented with it, and the energy had dulled to a weak buzz, like over-diluted broth. Shion's name was safe in their care, even if they might have harbored ill intent toward him.

"Well met, Nezumi," Shion greeted.

Nezumi inclined their head by way of greeting.

Something about Shion must have been disarming, because Nezumi reached up and removed their hood. The setting sunlight cast a beautiful assortment of golden light across their features, and Shion felt his mouth go dry. Nezumi was beautiful and feminine—but Shion knew, in that instant, there Nezumi was male. His face, pale and narrow, looked like something from another world. A god descended to the mortal plane, though no human skin could conceal the inhuman loveliness of his features.

Shion's heart stuttered. He glanced down as his face heated up. Shion had always had an affiliation for men. Women had never interested him—no one had ever really caught his attention, not in the way Shion expected they should—but he'd found that his affiliation leaned more toward men. Nezumi's loveliness struck him like a knife to the gut, and Shion felt his blood burning beneath his skin.

"Um," he said dumbly.

Nezumi lifted his head, and Shion's heart stopped for a second time.

His irises were silver.

Not a human shade of grey like a pale blue or a dusty green—but silver. The edge of a freshly sharpened blade glinting in the sunlight. Thunderstorms trapped beneath a pane of crystal glass. Nezumi's beautiful eyes danced over Shion's face, not reacting to the obvious shock and awe plastered across his face.

"Ah," Shion said, backpedaling from the shock twisting through his body. "Would, ah, would you like to come inside?" He gestured quickly to the door behind him. "I was just about to make soup."

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "And risk walking right into one of your snares?" He scoffed. "I'm not an idiot."

Shion bolted from his episode of unease and furrowed his brow. He was familiar with the concept of snares. He'd understood the basic function of them, but as they were blood-based magic and curse work, Shion had never invested time in them. Snares were a trap meant to punish trespassers, and Shion never found a need for them. If the villagers in Kronos believed him to be a threat now, it would certainly solidify his reputation as an evil witch if he started setting wicked snares to punish stray fingers in his gardens.

"I don't have snares," Shion told Nezumi carefully.

Nezumi glanced at the gardens—the beautifully crafted expanses where Shion had carefully laid out his crops and little baubles of flowers—and the delicate fences surrounding them. "You should probably get some," he said. He jerked his chin over his shoulder, in the direction of the village. "I doubt your friends are thrilled to have a witch living in the premises."

Shion smiled gently. "They don't have proof that I'm a witch."

"You don't hide it well."

"Perhaps not." Shion brushed his fingertips along the wooden door frame of his cabin. The whole thing had taken a great deal of time to put together, but his ties to nature magic had helped. The wood shifted easily beneath his hands, his tools always sharp enough and his lines straight enough to properly structure the home. "Then again," Shion went on, giving Nezumi a knowing look, "they don't know how to sense magic the way you do, now do they?"

Nezumi's beautiful silver eyes narrowed, and Shion felt a chill settle around him. He wondered if his assumptions about the Mao tribe were completely unfounded. He'd allowed stories and fears to warp his sense of belief about a tribe he knew nothing about, and Shion felt a sickness twist beneath his skin.

He opened his mouth to apologize, and Nezumi flexed his fingers. "I might be able to sense your magic," he explained, "but that doesn't mean it's a wise idea to perform it so blatantly."

Shion's shoulders relaxed. "I always do it inside." He glanced over at his fences, smiling at the little runes he'd carved into the wood. They effectively warded off wild animals who might have nibbled on his crops and flowers. "I've been doing this for a few years now. No one's managed to spot me."

"Years, eh?" Nezumi's lip quirked up at the corner. "And before that?"

Shion's smile dropped. Before that, he'd been strictly in hiding. Shion's foray into magic began in his childhood, but he'd been careless with his experiments. He'd been spotted on a few occasions twisting charms that were identified right off as "witch symbols". Shion had been hauled to the church, even as a child, and viciously questioned about his ties to the dark forces.

Sobbing and terrified, Shion assured the priests that he hadn't done anything wrong. He recited the Scriptures as loud as he could, repeated them through tears and mucus until his throat ran dry, and finally hurried home with his mother after she'd managed to convince them that putting a child through such torments was cruel and unusual.

Shion continued to work with magic, but he'd kept it quiet. The energies called to him, no matter where he went. He couldn't deny his connection to the animals that drifted beside him, or his love for the plants that seemed to grow better beneath his mitigation than even the most experienced farmers.

When Shion left on the boat, his mother had tried to stop him. She'd assured him that he could continue to live his life without harm, and she'd do whatever it took to protect him.

But Shion couldn't continue to bear the glares the neighbors cast toward his mother. He couldn't bear seeing the way his mother's bakery began to fail simply because customers were too afraid of him to venture inside. On the days where Shion didn't help, Karan's business boomed. But the bakery was a lot of work to maintain on her own, and Karan liked to keep it in the family.

Fortunately, Shion had managed to get his friend Safu to help Karan in the bakery once he left. His mother wept when he told her what he intended, but she understood. She wished him well, kissed his forehead, and told him to write as often as he could.

Shion couldn't have been happy living overseas the way he had. He couldn't be happy with the tall buildings and the massive structures cutting him off from the sources of energy he needed to thrive. He felt guilty leaving his mother, but he'd left her in good hands, and her blessings had followed him in the form of beautifully written letters and gifts she'd scrounged together.

"Another time, perhaps," Shion mumbled.

Nezumi, for all his strangeness, seemed to understand the shift in tone. He nodded, once, and turned back toward the forests. His black cloak drifted in the wind, and Shion noticed how tall he was. Not much taller than Shion, but enough for it to be notable. He wore a solid pair of black boots, perfectly crafted for the winter months. Etched on the heels were symbols that Shion recognized as runes of silence, intended to help the wearer reduce the sound they made when walking.

"Perhaps," he allowed.

He drifted into the forest like a shadow. He drew his hood up, tucking his dark hair beneath it. In an instant he bled from human into a shadow that vanished into the depths of the forests. It was only then that Shion realized the sun had begun dipping beneath the horizon, steadily plunging the world into the darkness of night.


To Be Continued...