Hello, everyone! I am back from my small break, and I'm happy to say that I'm feeling refreshed and eager to share some of what I've been working on with all of you. Sometimes it's good to just step back and look at things with new eyes. I was a bit worried that my fics were suffering from how exhausted I've been at work, so I took a little bit of downtime to clear my head and then return with a new perspective.
My "small break" ended up being a bit longer than intended, unfortunately. My dad fell down the stairs at our apartment complex and ended up breaking his ankle in three places, so I've been a bit distracted helping him get around the house and making sure we do what the doctor says so his wound can heal properly.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter! We're getting close to the end, and I figured it was time for some well-deserved Nezushi content. These two boys need happy things to happen in their lives, and so they need to have some nice moments! So without further adieu, let's dive right into this chapter!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The room beyond the front door of Nezumi's cabin was more of a small loft with wooden floors and a domed ceiling studded with tiny baubles than the massive hut Shion was accustomed to. There were no windows, which Shion was realizing was a staple of Maoese architecture—but the walls were completely lined with bookshelves. Hundreds of leather tomes and hardcovers, thick and thin, well-worn, and still in pristine condition. Simple furniture created small, distinct living spaces: a sitting area, a dining room, a kitchen, separated from each other only by weaving columns of wooden bookshelves.
It was beautiful. Shion had spent so long surrounded by the chaos of Kronos' plain wooden buildings and lack of wildlife that being in the cottage was almost overwhelming. Both environments seemed to suit Nezumi perfectly. He fit in well with the well-structured cabin he occupied, but he could also rough it in the depths of the woods. He walked a fine line between these two worlds, blending seamlessly into each of them. Shion's heart clenched as Nezumi shut the door, cutting out the faint winter chill fluttering from beyond.
Shion followed Nezumi through the makeshift living space. He wondered if there was ever going to be a time when he stopped being amazed by Nezumi, and immediately dismissed the thought as nothing less than utterly ludicrous.
He never wanted such a time to come.
Nezumi went straight for the kitchen. He shrugged his heavy black cloak off in the middle of the room, leaving it to rest in an inky puddle in the middle of the floor. Beneath it, he wore a plain brown tunic and a pair of black slacks tucked into a pair of sturdy boots.
Shion watched him cross to the shelves he had lined across the wall above the cauldron and counter he used to prepare food. The pots and pans lining the wall looked oddly familiar—and then, with heart-wrenching warmth, Shion realized they'd come from his cabin back in Kronos. Like the crops planted outside Nezumi's cabin, Shion's personal items mended comfortably into Nezumi's home.
Shion's heart sang as he watched Nezumi pull some of the supplies he'd snatched from Shion's cabin down from the wooden shelves and place them on the stone counter-tops.
"Still some chicken," he mumbled to himself, organizing the supplies and searching through the food he had stored away in his cabin. "Pretty sure that beef's no good anymore. Pretty sure it wasn't good when I bought it. Never buying from that woman again."
Shion stood next to one of the bookshelves and watched while Nezumi gathered an assortment of pots and pans. In a few minutes, Nezumi was pouring water, diced vegetables, and herbs into a rather small cauldron.
"I didn't know you could cook," Shion said, marveling at the swift, precise way Nezumi began to dice up a hunk of cooked chicken from a cool storage area. "You're amazing, Nezumi."
Nezumi clicked his tongue, as if Shion had said something completely ridiculous. Shion couldn't help the wave of frustration that rushed over him like a warm wave. How could Nezumi not know how wonderful he was? After all the wonderful things he'd done in such a short time, all the energy he'd expended to bring Shion into his village, uproot his crops and replant them in his own yard, and bring Shion's important items into his cabin for safe-keeping, how could Nezumi not know that he was the most amazing person Shion had ever met?
Shion closed his eyes and decided to focus on something else before. He wandered steadily around the cabin, looking around at the bookshelves. He couldn't read several of the titles imprinted on the leather spines, but he sensed that they would keep him occupied for years if he could only take the time to learn the language.
Nezumi's cabin was slightly larger than Shion's; he couldn't imagine how Nezumi had come to own such a large-sized home when he appeared to be the only one living within it. His heart ached as he realized that Nezumi might not have intended to live alone in this cabin, but he knew that was a conversation for another time.
The sturdy boards muffled Shion's footsteps as he floated around the cabin, marveling at the designs etched into the walls and the decorative objects hanging from the walls. As he looked around, he imagined how his flower charms would look spread out across the walls, hanging from the ceiling, embedded between Nezumi's decorations. His face flushed at the thought—he didn't even know if Nezumi intended to let him stay—and Shion turned and headed back toward the kitchen.
Nezumi had mixed a few chunks of fresh meat in a cauldron with some broth and vegetables. Shion wondered if the vegetables might have come from his crops; he suspected Nezumi might not indulge without asking him, but Shion felt a shock of excitement at the thought of Nezumi harvesting his crops to use for dinner.
Shion stared at the slight smile gracing Nezumi's lips. His hard, distant companion came to life in these calm moments, and Shion hovered in the center of the cabin like a wraith. He watched the boy relax in the heart of his home, stirring the contents of the cauldron with a smile so faint Shion imagined it would blow away like a gentle winter frost at a moment's notice. The long strands of Nezumi's dark hair sat at the back of his head, clinging to the nape of his neck as the warm steam from the cauldron sent delicious scents around the room.
"That smells wonderful," Shion murmured.
"Old family recipe," Nezumi replied with a casual shrug. "Well, in a manner of speaking. Just something I picked up with time, I suppose." He gave the cauldron's contents a firm stir and then covered the pot with the heavy lid. "I'm a bit better at making it now than I was in my younger years."
"Your younger years?" Shion titled his head to the side and scrutinized the smooth lines of Nezumi's face and the lean muscle of his forearms and shoulders. "You're still young."
Nezumi huffed. "Not as young as I once was."
"Do the Mao live longer?"
Nezumi raised an eyebrow. "Than who? The folks in your village? No, we don't live longer. Although..." His lips pressed into a thin line, and looked up at the wooden ceiling. Woven among the slats were branches woven with colorful fabric and little bushels of twigs and leaves that Shion realized were birds' nests. "Our healers are far more advanced than those in Kronos. Not many die from illness or injury, unless the initial wound is far too complex to repair in time. Most of us die of natural causes, so in that sense, I suppose we do live longer than most."
Shion nodded slowly, taking in the information and pushing it aside for later. His talents with herbs and comprehension of the medicinal aspects of magic granted him the opportunity to be an impeccable healer. In Kronos, there had been no chance to offer his services. Nezumi had been his first and only patient—he didn't count Safu or his mother, as Shion had only ever needed to implement minor pain relievers for headaches and muscle sores—and Shion appeared to have done a halfway decent job. A shimmer of pride trembled through him as he took in the way Nezumi held himself, the way his shoulder appeared to have healed without difficulty beneath his ministrations.
Nezumi bustled away from the cauldron while the soup—Shion assumed it was soup, with his own paltry understanding of cooking, both elixirs and dinner—and wandered into the makeshift living space. "The village elder said he'd like to meet with you," he explained over his shoulder, "but we'll take care of that tomorrow. You're still recovering."
"I don't mind going tonight," Shion said, but the thought of wandering through the Mao village, while exciting, made him feel exhausted. The belladonna poison had worked its way out of his system, but the illness had sapped the majority of his strength, and wandering from the Elder's cabin to Nezumi's had taken almost all the energy he'd built up. When at last he dropped into bed that evening, he knew he'd sleep like the dead.
"No, it's fine. The elder's probably occupied with other business. We'll go tomorrow in the late morning." Nezumi shrugged. "You'll probably want to meet some of the others, too, if you intend to stay on as a healer."
Shion's whole body felt light. "You think they'll allow me?"
"The Elder was impressed with the healing properties of your crops. He thinks you have a natural talent for it." Nezumi averted his eyes; if Shion didn't know better, he would have thought Nezumi was blushing. "And besides, you did a decent job fixing up my shoulder, so the Elder—and I—think you'd be an exceptional addition to the village."
Shion's heart sang. He looked down at the floor between them, happiness singing through his veins. He smiled, so wide it hurt his face, and even when he heard Nezumi mutter something about how ridiculous he looked grinning like a complete madman, he heard the distinct edge of a smile in Nezumi's voice.
To Be Continued...
