** (c) to original owner for cover photo.
III
[The Woman with a Flower Tattoo]
It was that bastard's fault.
None of this predicament would happen if not for him.
He knew well enough to guard himself around that man, though he had only heard whispers of his tacky charms and cunning ruling. He considered him a rival from afar. But as a king he was, he was a formidable ally at the time during a war in the sky. The Medium had gone aggressive, so the prince had mentally lifted a white flag and allowed the king to arrive at his side. No words were uttered, the bastard only dropped a smug smirk as he had cast his Extreme Magic along with him.
But then...
A portal, a magical and dangerous gateway, had swirled under their feet.
He was able to avoid getting hauled into the devouring void, but was halted when there was a squeeze on his scaled wrist. He turned his head and saw the king with horror in his eyes, half of his body was swallowed and the mouth of the portal did not stop there.
With all his strength, he pried the infuriating grip off of him. He would not have himself be taken as well. As such, he yelled, struggled, and growled as many insults he could think of, but it had been vain.
He too had been stolen.
Though, he gave himself a pat on the back when he crashed his fist into the bastard's jaw for taking him along to oblivion.
The scenery became an obscured blur and colors spun, the king was nowhere to be seen and he vowed to break his face the next time he would see him. If next time existed.
However, it was not oblivion he reached. Or not yet.
Instead it was a pitch-black canopy dotted by myriad of stars. He was about a cloudless and serene heavens, and there he witnessed a grand vision of a penumbra masking the moon. Only then he had felt small and inferior under its ethereal form.
Cold air began to rush against his body as the dark skies grew farther from him.
He was falling.
He was falling before his heart could have time to flutter in disquiet. Every nerve and muscle in him started to knot, not because he would fall to his end, but because of the concept of a boundless fall that may meet him. The unknowns were truly daunting.
As the dread touched the deepest parts of his mind, his hair grew short and crimson as it was before. The scales on his body dissolved into naught and was replaced by his robes. His djinn equip was fully lost as he plummeted further down.
Then there was pain that billowed into his bones.
The night sky through the hole he carved above was the only reminder that he was still alive, as he descended upon objects that pricked his back. His heart stopped its violent tremors in his chest, at least he stopped falling.
And that was how he had met a boy and a peculiar woman.
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Kouen approached the large glass window and let his eye wander about the unfamiliar landscape laid out for him. He found that he was in a place of mountainous character and it did not take him long to understand that he was indeed lost in a different world. He was not dreaming. There he saw a still and peaceful realm beyond the valleys and hills blanketed by moonlight. No villages were burned, no lives being taken, no wars, just tranquility that sat on the far lands.
Who rules such a world? He thought, and how would he return to his?
Wherever he was, the weather must also not to be underestimated. The heat was a gasp from hell on his skin, insufferable to the extreme, saturating his clothes instantly.
He turned when he heard footsteps approach him. The woman stood, staring up to him with bedroom eyes that could attract anything that breathed. Thin lips unfastened then pursed into a line with clear hesitation to speak to him. She wore very little and less clothes, which were might as well be undergarments. Most of her pallid skin was exposed to him, glistened by beads of sweat from the wave of warmth. He swore he saw more than he should have through the thin layer fabric. He corrected his focus as it was not on the right places, returning to her face and further studying her.
Their gazes locked for a moment and he stared into one of the hundreds of empty souls he came across. It would seem that invisible strings were attached to her limbs, bringing her into motion.
The bright flowered mark on her arm was demanding to be noticed. It was beautifully detailed, as if it were real and blooming along her skin. Women weren't likely to have ones as big as hers, let alone have one but he thought it suited her somehow. Where he came from, it was a stamp of promiscuity and rebellious nature. Looking more into the design, he was certain that he recognized uneven disfigured skin cunningly hidden underneath the petals, though he had resisted to confirm his thoughts.
She referred to herself as Ebina.
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Rico was the little boy's name and he was probably her son, the one that breathed some life into her. That was enough reason to not create any sort of close contact with Ebina and not that he would plan to, as she may belong to another man, he would not be surprised if she actually was. He didn't know what food she served to him as he had been too famished to even think, but her cooking enchanted his palate and as the saying went — the key to a man's heart was through his appetite.
Looking at the child, he saw what set him and Ebina apart. Physically, it was the boy's hair. It had the hue of mahogany and was swept in many directions. Large eyes framed by lashes flickered up to him, the boy presented his toy duck, which was repeatedly called 'Chicken'. Kouen received a bright smile and he could not help but let Rico climb onto his lap. But then his goatee was noticed. The boy tugged at it and laughed.
He was the sweetest child he met and he had never met many children aside from his brothers and legion of sisters when they were little. Koumei was a sleepy child, Kouha was a vicious one, and Hakuryuu was a distant wary whelp. Not a sliver of docility on any of them. His sisters were, well, he'd just say that he had earned far more respect than affections from them. Nonetheless, he loved his siblings with all his heart.
It made him wonder if the experience with the boy was akin to having a son of his own.
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He smelled of citrus all over. His hair, his skin. Everywhere. He could not complain as he was assisted with his hygiene but still, his brothers would laugh if they caught a glimpse of his fruity scent.
What is up with that woman and fruits?
Most women he met fell in love with his face — his body — those were qualities of his they sought to see with their enticed eyes and touch with their painted lips. And when they did, their long pristine nails would sculpt red marks on his skin, delving deeper into his flesh as they urged him on with delighted moans for high pleasure.
But Ebina was different, she was likely the traitor to his expectations.
He would be lying to himself if he did not think of other things when she relieved him of his drenched clothes and assume she would seduce him into bed with her, but any man would think that way. It was just how their intuition worked when alone with a woman such as herself. It was a good thing he did not let impure thoughts get the better of him as her objective was to bathe him. Should he had known that, then he would not have let her trouble herself with undressing him.
Still, Kouen appreciated that part of her. Ebina did not hold any unchaste motives towards him. She did not look at physical appearances, she looked at his amiss condition and lent a hand. He was not supposed to be where he was, he had broken her belongings, he understood nothing of what she tried to say to him, and yet she helped him. Ebina did not refuse hospitality to someone like him and though she appeared indifferent, she provided nothing but aid to him.
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Ebina encouraged him to enter a strange-looking white carriage with four wheels. Upon closer observation, it seemed alive as it had glowing eyes on front and it puffed smoke from behind. But there were people inside, their stares wide at him. Whatever the thing was, he entered. The idea of leaving Ebina wasn't exactly appealing, he needed to satisfy his debts with her for all the help he received.
She gently grazed the side of his arm with her cold touch and he examined her baffling expression, she had said something to him with a soft voice.
He'd go with the new faces smiling to him if he had to, if it was a part of her support. But trusting them was a whole different thing.
He met her eyes once more. The gaze she had reflected something more than a farewell, but he could not decipher it in words and staring further led to an ache in his chest, so he was first to break away. Such pain had never existed before, it was a wound that may continue to grow deep into him. And he wouldn't know what to do once it festered.
He was brought far away from her and returning home became a distant wish as well.
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"Kurosawa!" the grinning man chanted then shook his head when Kouen repeated his name with a lifted brow. "Kuro!" his thumb was at himself. He was the first man to greet him in his arrival to a rather colder but noisy and busy environment. He donned a white and black attire, his untamed curled locks of hair was kept under a hat. Meeting this jester's grin was a constant reminder of someone that made his blood boil.
The prince was ushered to stay in a small white room without windows, only two chairs and a table were rooted in it.
Kuro offered an abundance of necessities, but Kouen couldn't bring himself to place some trust into him and the others that crowded him. Women especially, they were of much easy virtue.
Then Kuro would teach him words — the basic pleasantries and greetings — with bright and colorful illustrations that tended to be more horrible than the last, it was as painful to look at as it was to interpret. Who draws a blue sun? Is he trying to blind me with ugly drawings?
Art was obviously not his strong suit.
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Kuro would always talk to him whenever he was not scolded by others, and provide gestures with weird faces. Kouen would only turn away, his eyes showing clear disinterest. It was getting annoying and he was a man who would only listen to himself should his mood be unfavorable.
Then Kuro tried to pry his patience by flicking his nose, an action people who yearned to live for another day wouldn't do.
"What the hell are you doing?" The prince snapped, glaring knives. The man across him stood quickly, waving a black box-shaped item in his hand, he grinned as if he won something.
He ran outside, shutting the door behind him.
His brain must not be in his skull.
The next day wasn't entirely different from the previous ones. Kouen could only sigh, the days were brought to waste the longer he stayed with Kuro and his mood barely had an upturn. Lacking knowledge of this world was like arriving to battle without armor.
"Ebina," Kouen finally said to Kuro, his shoulders lowed as he would rather be returned to her… Then he mentioned another, "Sinbad."
The bastard's name flowed odiously from his tongue and the filthy taste of the sound made him to want to wash his mouth. He was a man that was needed to be hunted down, the center of all the blame. However, standing alone in a world brimmed with strangers and strange technology was not an ideal plan. The dimwitted king was the last person, again, he would like ally to with but he was still the only person he could rely on. Also, the only person he instantly disliked on a brief first meeting.
Kuro said nothing and just smiled, only writing in silence across him.
His lids began to drop.
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His dream was cruel.
He stood in the world he belonged. But something was not right.
The world — his home — was demeaned into ashes... and his loved ones became smoke in his hands as he tried to grasp them with all his might. Their ending screams was an eternal requiem to his ears.
What he obtained was a crumbling heart in his chest and a crown on his head.
Gyokuen was there approaching him with light steps, the ends of her smile stretched to her ears. He blinked and her breath was at the shell of his ear, her body pressed onto his back. Long fingertips were tendrils of a parasitic vine, crawling and holding his shoulders still.
"How does it feel..." she began, there was a heinous grin on her voice, "… to be King of the Ashes?"
He did not want any of this.
All vanished into a flash of white and he sat up all too quickly, blinking a couple of times for his vision to adjust. As he scanned his surroundings, his hand held a pulse of someone else. It became as fast and loud as his, he turned his head to the side, his breathing spent. Ebina was there, the pulse he felt belonged to her. She looked at him with worry tainting her eyes, but he had to know if she was no part of a dream, that she would not vanish.
His touch reached for her face, she was warm and she did not disappear. She possessed his hand with solemn words sent for him. His heart lulled and he closed his eyes again.
He was returned to her.
However, since then he would feel the ghost of the vixen's hands clawed on his shoulders.
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It became apparent that Ebina was a woman who shouldn't be greeted with a jest on mornings.
Through the curtains, he saw her leave with quick steps and there Kuro had spoken to her of something while walking backwards from her, still with that plastered grin on his face.
And she went red.
Ebina pushed him down on the grass and worked on undoing his trousers. The prince could only lift a curious brow at the sight of them struggling with each other. Does copulation take place outdoors in this world?
Then another thought was lit in his mind. Perhaps, Kuro was her lover? Either way, he would not like to witness — no — what she was doing was entirely different from what he assumed. Kuro was laughing but his eyes were absolutely terrified.
When she was able to effectively pull his trousers off his legs, a curve of a sinister smirk was seen on the side of her face.
She threw the captured trousers onto a tree, out of reach.
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His magoi showed no signs of replenishing, in fact, it was deteriorating each day and he was only left with a minuscule amount. The metal vessels in his possession did not respond to him as well.
Magic was disconnected from this world, the rukh did not flutter anywhere at all. While those truths had finally become clear, home contained his thoughts – his family as he was missing them. So much. Could he really return to them?
Though it was likely far-fetched, considering he barely had the means, he would like to be brought back to his world. He would like to know of the battle he was taken from and he would like to know of his family that were in that battle, he worried for them greatly.
There came a knock on his ajar door and he quickly turned, his previous thoughts faded when fingertips wrapped on his wrist.
"Handsome!" Ebina called, pulling him into a run downstairs. He corrected her before that it was not his name, but she seemed to brush it off each time. And he noticed that she no longer dressed skimpily.
A rare expression had crossed her face – a smile. She had never shown much emotion to him over the days of his stay so he found himself staring at how happy she looked. He supposed the smile was more suitable than her usual blank visage.
He felt a squeeze on his legs as soon as they came down, Rico looked up to him with a smile and he knelt down to meet his level.
Rico handed his drawing and he kept pointing at the tall red character holding hands with the slimmer dark one on the paper, which Kouen assumed was him and Ebina was the other. There was a sun in between clouds at the corner of the paper, at the bottom were multiple thick lines in green, probably grass. It wasn't the best he had seen, but he did not expect to value a small thing he would usually accept out of tact.
Kouen smiled as well and patted the boy on the head.
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"Ohh. Magazine," Ebina pointed at the book with shiny pages, which he had been browsing after breaking the fast. The pages held sceneries that dwelled in the world. He imprinted the enigmatic architecture in his mind, he wasn't certain why most were laced by bright lights with sorts of colors and were high, enough to stretch through skies. They weren't dungeons, he thought.
The odd world he fell into had him curious, fascinated. He yearned to know how it functioned, its culture and histories, and the rulers. There was just no end to the new things he could learn.
"Pen," Ebina added, lifting the writing utensil off the table. He repeated every word, remembering them with his tongue. She leaned down, her hair was a dark curtain falling on her tattooed shoulder and she took a seat next to him. Most mornings she dedicated were her teaching him new words.
But at the dead of the night, she would be different.
Through the ease between the books, he would catch of a glimpse of women that arrived occasionally as he lost track of time. They wouldn't notice him behind the shelf scanning magazines. And to think he had pondered which man Ebina belonged to.
Some of the women seemed younger or older than her, but no one returned for a second time, and they all heeded the tattoo on her arm. Ebina would not let them touch her mark, however.
Then he would hear… soft thuds, clothes dropping, and footsteps up the stairs.
When the sounds fade and the quiet returned, he would flip to the next page.
One night was particularly noisy and the loud thud got him lifting his head from the magazine he was busied with. It was just a moment. There was another woman and Ebina was standing by the front door, smirk on her lips.
Looking at those eyes of hers, he was able to clearly see what resided in them — a dangerous and broken soul that sought thrill in the wrong things.
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Another night he saw Ebina on the floor, eyes drowned in tears. He wasn't sure if he should approach her or just turn to the next page of the book.
He decided to approach her.
She winced at his sudden presence when he knelt down beside her, she didn't try to push him away as his hand was on the side of her arm. And there he confirmed it – a scar about the size of his palm. What happened to her?
Shit. What would he say? Should he say anything at all?
He knew far too little about her, he only had her expressions, body gestures, and her midnight activities to discern from. She was a blank book to him. But he just felt the need to say something so he tried to remember what Kuro taught him. Just say it.
The moment he said it, she began to burst in laughter. Perhaps it was a joke? If it was then he should not have said it. At some point of her laughter, she mentioned Kuro's name through gritted teeth. For what reason, he wouldn't know.
She smiled at him. There was sadness.
Ebina then kissed him on the cheek, muttering, "I love you."
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Lava seemed to flow on her long tresses, that he could see. The woman had apparently returned twice, which was a rare thing with Ebina.
They shared no intimacy more than a single embrace by the door and hushed conversations. "Kaia…" he heard Ebina say to the other woman in red.
The following nights had quieted down, but his cheek tingled as if her lips still lingered there.
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Wool slithered by his side and the mattress sunk under the additional weight on his hips. He felt soft hair fall on his face and wisps of warmth against his lips. "Kouen..." he heard a womanly mutter, toned with hunger.
He lifted his lids, all drowse gone instantly at who sat atop him, "Ebina?" She had never called him by his name before and had never entered his room when he was asleep.
She said nothing, only moving herself against him with her mouth parted, the tip of her tongue darted out and licked at her bottom lip. He frowned and held her hips still, it was not right. He heard laughter, "It's quite fun to tease you."
He looked into a different set of eyes and the voice did not belong to Ebina, "You..."
"You're doing well, my beloved son. So, how do you like my vessel in this world? Pretty, isn't she?"
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Question: What are your thoughts on Kouen having a body tattoo? Just wanna know your opinion :3
Before anyone flips out and be like "the romance is too fast" or "on the third chap and she confessed alrdy?" on Ebina saying "I love you" to Kouen, just wanna clear that she only said so he would understand that she was thanking him. Remember, "I love you" means "thank you" to Kouen cuz of Kurosawa lol
Let me know how well I did with Kouen's POV, did it feel right or wrong?
Also if you have questions, don't hesitate to ask. :)
Thank you for reading~