"You are eating that fish raw." She looked at him skeptically, her soup spoon hovering between her bowl and her mouth.
"Yeah, and it's delicious." He grinned before popping another thin sliver of marbled pink flesh into his mouth. He closed his eyes savoring the fresh flavor. "So good. You should try some."
"Um, no thank you." She sipped her soup. She was surprised with how good it was as she looked around the tiny hole in the wall of a restaurant. She had been skeptical when he suggested it as they walked by, but he seemed to be drawn to it for some reason.
When they had walked in, they were greeted by an old man behind a counter. He was dressed strangely, but not unlike how she had seen Yami dressed before. He greeted them in an odd language. And to her surprise, Yami answered him. She looked at his face as he conversed with the old man. She knew nothing of what they were saying to each other, she could barely follow the flow of the conversation. But something about the conversation had made Yami seem nostalgic, almost wistful. An old woman, dressed equally as strange in what she would have considered the most beautiful bathrobe she had ever seen, came out from behind the counter and ushered them to a small table near the corner of the building. She said something to Yami which made him sit up straighter as a slight blush colored his cheeks. The old woman chuckled.
"I will bring you a traditional meal from home." She said, moving to a broken, stilted form of the common tongue. "And for your friend, a taste of home more easy on the..." She hunted for the word. "Unaccustomed palate." The woman bowed as she left their table.
Charlotte looked around at the small shack of a restaurant.
"How are they even in business with this tiny place?" she murmured mostly to herself.
"It's the only place of its kind here. Probably in the entire kingdom." He smiled as the old woman returned with a tray. She placed a bottle of sake on the table, with two small cups as well as a small pot of tea. Charlotte watched as she made extremely precise, practiced movements to pour both drinks.
"Sake?" she asked, holding the small cup out to Charlotte. The smell of the warmed clear liquid was clean and strong. It reminded her of the polish she used on her armor when it needed cleaning. She could not help the crinkle of her nose as the scent wafted toward her, but she took the cup from the old woman who gave her a small smile and slight bow. Charlotte found herself bowing in response though she didn't know why. The cup was warm in her hands as she watched the woman pour a second cup and pass it to Yami. She watched a warm smile spread across his face. She brought the warm cup to her lips and took a tentative sip. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat, as acrid as it had smelled. She coughed and put the cup down.
Yami looked at her with laughter in his eyes.
"Not much of a drinker?"
"No."
He drained his cup, and then hers before pouring her a bowl of tea.
"Try this then." She took the round cup in two hands and sipped the steaming liquid cautiously. The tea also burned, but in a different way than the sake had.
"Better. Though it's quite bitter."
He shrugged.
"Acquired tastes, I guess. Though I can't say how long it took me to get used to red wine."
The old woman reappeared with a bowl of soup for each of them and a plate spiraled with thin cuts of meat. The soup smelled like nothing she had ever had before, but it also smelled enticing. And his eyes lit up as he saw the rest of the food.
"What is it?" She eyed the thin cuts of flesh curiously. Ranging in color from white to pink to nearly orange, it was laid out in a beautiful and artistic manner.
"Fish." He manipulated a pair of narrow sticks, deftly grabbing a piece of the fish and popping it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the food. She could only describe the look on his face as blissful. The old woman smiled as she spoke again. Charlotte assumed she asked him something, but the lyrical language did not seem to follow even remotely similar rules of inflection as her native tongue. Yami covered his mouth with his hand as he answered and Charlotte thought she saw tears in his eyes. As she listened to him speak to the old woman, she was surprised how well matched the language was with him. She had always thought he had an accent, had known he had learned the language as a teenager. But she had never imagined how beautiful his native tongue would be, or how much it would make her heart race to see him so unguarded. She wanted to ask him about his home, wondered what his life might have been like before or if he hadn't found himself here.
"Are you sure you don't want to try it?" He asked again as she sipped her soup once more. He waved a think piece of white fish before her, pinched carefully between the sticks he had been using to eat.
She sighed. He looked at her hopefully.
"Fine." She opened her mouth and he placed the morsel onto her tongue. The taste was not at all as she expected as it seemed to melt on her tongue. She did however, feel herself choke as she thought about what she was eating and forced herself to swallow the bite.
He watched her expectantly.
"Well, it wasn't bad. It tasted good, but I don't think I can handle the texture." She tried to be diplomatic as she reached for her tea.
He laughed, his eyes lighting up with a smile. The smell of something being grilled wafted through the air toward them.
"That smells delicious." She tried to peer around him to see what was being cooked. The old woman returned once more. She poured Yami another cup of sake and smiled when Charlotte had to refuse.
"Why'd she come all the way over here when you have the bottle?" She asked as the old woman shuffled back to the grill where her husband was cooking. She could hear them talking in their strange language.
"It's custom. You never pour sake for yourself."
She watched him drain the cup as she sipped her tea. She frowned as she realized she had finished her own cup as well. She reached for the small pot the old woman had left, but he picked it up and was refilling her bowl before her hands had reached the pot.
"You shouldn't pour tea for yourself either. Not if you're sharing with another." His voice was a quiet whisper which made Charlotte blush. She looked up at him, his face in profile as he glanced over his shoulder at something the elderly couple had said. His eyes were dilated and his cheeks were red as if he were drunk, yet he seemed fine in all other ways. She reached out for the sake bottle, her hands trembling slightly as she picked it up and poured him another glass.
"There's no point in having her come back here every time you need a refill." She placed the bottle on the table once more. He caught her fingers as she withdrew them from the table and brought them to his lips.
"You're blushing." The comment only made her cheeks grow more red. She was about to retort when the old woman returned with the grilled dish whose aroma had filled the air of the small restaurant. Yami pulled his hand away from hers quickly. The red in his cheeks seemed to darken as well. The old woman motioned for Yami to lean down to her. She whispered into his ear. Whatever she had said made his eyes grow wide and he choked on air. He glanced at Charlotte before rapidly trying to explain something to the old lady, who just walked away laughing.
"What did she say?"
"She said I shouldn't be ashamed of showing affection for my beautiful wife. I tried to tell her that you weren't, that we weren't, but she just laughed." He looked everywhere except at her. He picked up another piece of fish and shoved it into his mouth. She watched him, trying to determine whether the red on his cheeks was from the sake or what the woman had told him.
"Oh." Her imagination flowed down the path of the woman's suggestion, giving her visions of herself in a poofy white gown her mother likely picked out, looking up at him in a sun-dappled church. She focused on the plate before her, chastising herself for her flight of fancy. "Well, this looks delicious." She tried to smile at him, but he was staring into the distance, his face suddenly serious. She began to eat her food in silence as he drummed his fingers against his chin. She could feel every glance he gave her, but every time she looked up, he had looked away once more.
Yami looked at the old couple, thinking about what the woman had said to him. He hated to admit it, but the thought of marrying anyone was unsettling. Especially now. Especially with this mission. Especially when he did not know if he would make it back alive.
But if he did, he wondered if he might one day want more from her. He couldn't stop glancing at her, now focused on the food before her, but he wasn't hungry any more. He reached for the sake bottle only to have her snatch it away from him and pour his cup herself. He met her eyes as she put the bottle down.
"Thanks." He couldn't stop looking at her, despite trying. Her blue eyes seemed to dance and he realized he would fight for her if he got out of this alive. And he would make it back to her.
"You're welcome." She glanced at the dish before her before looking back up at him, smiling.
He picked up the cup and sipped it slowly, giving her the soft smile he had greeted the old man with when they had entered the restaurant. He watched her over the small cup as she finished eating.
"You know, I just noticed it, but, you haven't had a cigarette since the beach." She sipped her tea. He thought back to seeing her on the beach, his cigarette falling and everything since then.
"You're right. Huh." He didn't even want one.
"Are you finished?"
"Oh." He looked at the nearly empty plate before him. "Yeah."
The old woman made her way back to the table
"How do you say 'Thank You'?" Charlotte asked unexpectedly. He sat up wide-eyed with surprise. Smiling, he told her the word. She repeated it, but he shook his head, smiling before repeating it, trying to stress the inflection and pitch changes. She tried again.
"Eh, close enough." The look on his face said it was far from correct, but he still smiled proudly when she thanked the old woman in his native language. Yes, he thought, he would fight for her if he survived this mission. The old woman's face lit up at the attempt. He thanked her as well as he paid her and offered his hand to Charlotte. As they left he restaurant, the old woman called out to them one last time, making them both freeze.
"Enjoy your honeymoon!" Her accent was thick, but the words struck Charlotte like a knife. Yami hung his head, sighing and reached for a cigarette when she linked her arm in his and waved back to the old woman.
"Thank you; we will!"
"What are you doing?" He turned to her, unlit cigarette dangling from his lip. She took it from between his lips and drew his face to hers, kissing him slowly on the street. He pulled her close, losing himself in her.
"Pretending."
He lingered, eyes closed, above her lips as she brushed the back of his neck. She kissed him again quickly before stepping out of his embrace and taking him by the arm once more. Pretending,huh? he thought. The idea coursed through him like lava, igniting him in ways he hadn't thought possible. His desire for her grew, but his passion for her lit a flame of something else; something he was unwilling to name.
"Where's my cigarette?"
She held it out to him. He took the small object from her hand with his lips, making her gasp. Lighting it quickly, he drapped his arm around her shoulders.
"So what now, pretend wife?" He looked at her as she turned to him, wide-eyed. He took the cigarette from between his lips and turned his head, blowing out smoke before looking in her eyes once more.
"I don't know. It's getting kind of late, isn't it?"
He shrugged and took another drag on the cigarette. It didn't taste as good as her lips.
"My sense of time is all mixed up." He started walking, guiding her down the street with him.
"Actual work can do that to you." She slid her arm around his waist.
He chuckled.
"You certainly make me work." He murmured in her ear.
"Yami." She mock-scolded and he could see her blushing in the moonlight.
Hearing her say his name thrilled him.
"Charlotte." he echoed, his accent thicker than normal. The sound sent shivers down her spine.
"A walk on the beach, perhaps?" She leaned into him.
"Only a walk?" His voice was low and deep. She licked her lips.
"For now."
He took a drag on the cigarette, blowing the smoke away from her.
"I should probably check on the kids, anyway." He took another inhale before crushing the half-used cigarette beneath his foot and directing her to the beach.
The sound of the water was soothing, as it softly lapped the rocks that jutted out into the ocean. They walked in silence as the moon shone overhead. Charlotte leaned her head against his arm. She had always felt a little strange around people, all people, not just men. For a long time, she chalked her feelings up to the curse and the walls she had built around herself because of it. She had kept everyone at bay-men, women, her family even as she fought to grow in strength in hopes of breaking the curse herself.
But now, she was completely at ease, relaxed. It was refreshing and strange.
He slipped his arm around her shoulder, his fingers brushing the top of her arm, and she felt the walls crumbling into dust.
Voices from down the beach drifted to them.
"There they are." He said quietly before he climbed up to the top of a slick rock. He stood up there, silhouetted in the moonlight and Charlotte felt her breath catch. He looked at something in the distance down the beach before leaning over and offering her his hand.
Once on top of the rock, she could see the scars of magic gone wrong dotting the beach.
"What are they doing?" She asked as she interlaced her fingers with his. It happened automatically and felt so natural now to do it.
"Training. Noelle still can't control her magic. And she's the only one who can get the job done."
She looked up at him. His face was grim, but determined. He had told her he was afraid, and now she understood why.
"She'll get it." He nodded in confidence. "She'll figure it out." He smiled at her, but she knew he was still worried. She squeezed his hand as she watched the practice more. She could hear the voices, but could not make out what they were saying at the distance.
"Are all three of them yours? I've heard of your habit of picking up strays."
He chuckled, and this time his smile lightened his eyes.
"I was a stray before Julius picked me up, you know. Just paying it forward. But no. It looks like they found a friend. I hope those idiots didn't tell her about the mission."
"What is the mission?" She knew it was secret, and he wouldn't tell her. They had both learned over the years how to keep such secrets. But she still wanted to know.
He shook his head before sitting on the rock and pulling her down next to him.
"I hate the ocean," he said as he stared out at the endless depths. She looked at his profile in the moonlight as he lit another cigarette.
"Why?" She felt he was not being honest.
He took a deep breath and blew out smoke slowly.
"Every bad memory I have starts with the ocean." He pulled a knee to his chest as his gaze lingered on the horizon. She tucked her feet underneath herself.
"I've only seen it... I think this is my third time. My parents brought me here a couple of times as a child, but they prefer the mountains."
"My parents were fishermen, well my father was, and my brothers. My mother died giving birth to my younger sister when I was ten, and my older sister was married off when I was twelve, right before my father started sending me out on the boats alone."
"So you grew up around the ocean."
"Yeah. Out before dawn every day, except when the weather was bad. We would stay out as long as we could, or until the boat was so full we would risk sinking it."
"Where you good at it?"
"At what?"
"Fishing."
"I guess. I never wanted to be a fisherman though. I would pray and pray for another path, for a change, to be seen and taken on by a wandering warrior. Hell, I would have been happy to have been a farmer. I guess I got what I wished for."
"I heard you had been found shipwrecked."
"Yeah. A storm blew up out of nowhere one day. I was out on the boat alone. I was fourteen; it was to expected. The wind was fierce and the waves were enormous swells. I had never seen anything like it. The boat capsized. I thought for sure I was going to die, but then I was caught in a current and when I woke up, I was here. Well, not here, specifically. I washed ashore in a village a few towns over."
"So you hate the ocean because it took you away from your home?"
"In a sense. Though things didn't get better here, at least not right away. I wonder if the couple at the restaurant had it as bad?"
"Yami?" She touched his arm. His face looked pained as he turned to her, but he masked it with a sardonic smile.
"But you don't want to hear my life's story."
She had never thought about it before, but looking into his eyes, nearly black in the moonlight, she realized she did. She wanted to know everything about him. As he lay back on the rock and looked up at the stars, she sighed, knowing he was unlikely to reveal any more secrets to her.
"Did you ever think about going back?" She looked out at the water.
"Sometimes." He admitted after a long moment of silent consideration. Charlotte turned to him as he continued watching the sky. "Not so much anymore, but the first year or so..." He took a deep breath and then another one. "I would have given anything to go back."
"What changed?"
"Julius."
"You were in his squad, weren't you? You've known him a long time."
"Yeah. He was always a weirdo." He sat back up. "It still boggles my mind to think he was chosen as Wizard King, sometimes." He took a deep inhale on his cigarette and blew the smoke out at the horizon. He watched the thin stream dissipate in the breeze.
"Well, he was instrumental in several victories in the war. And his power is just incredible."
"I know, I was there. I mean, he is definitely the right person for the job, but," He rolled his eyes and sighed. "He's just cooky."
She giggled.
"I don't think I've ever heard him described quite that way."
"Well, it's true."
"How did you meet? I mean, you said you were a stray he picked up. How did he pick you up?"
He looked at her and sighed.
"I had been living on the beach, pretty much alone, except for this one guy who came to check up on me every so often. Anyway, this guy insisted I go to the grimoire ceremony. I had just turned fifteen, he said, and he convinced me to at least see what it was about. Well, lo and behold, I get a grimoire, much to the shock of everyone there, me most of all, and it unlocks something inside me."
"You couldn't use magic before?" She looked at him in shock.
"Nope. I mean, I guess I had used it in some latent sense. I don't think I would have survived the storm otherwise, but consciously?" He shook his head. "Julius had been there, apparently, watching. He ran up to me on the beach later, all starry-eyed and curious. He kept asking me to show him my magic again and again, invited me to join him in the Magic Knights. I kept telling him no."
"I don't believe that."
"It's true. I didn't trust anyone, well except for the one guy who made sure I wasn't dead from time to time. I sure as hell didn't trust nobles after the shit they put me through."
"So, how did he convince you?"
"He bought me dinner."
"What?"
"He bought me dinner."
"And that's it?"
"I was a kid; I was very food motivated."
She burst out laughing, wiping tears from her eyes.
"That dinner changed everything for me." He stared into the distance as she watched him. Before he grew too introspective, she scooted in front of him. Rising up on her knees, she took his face in her hands, pulled the stub of cigarette from between his lips, tossed it to the side, and kissed him.
"I'm glad you accepted his offer." She kissed him again. He let his knee fall and pulled her into his lap. He pressed his forehead against hers.
"Yeah me too."
She smiled as she nuzzled down into his neck and slipped her arms around his back. They sat in silence, listening to the waves on the rocks, to each other's hearts beating. The fuzzy feeling of sleep crept into the edges of her consciousness as he held her.
"The tide's coming in." His deep voice vibrated through her.
"Hmm?" She looked up at him with heavy eyelids.
"We should go before we get stuck out here."
She turned to look at the water's edge, now closer than it had been earlier. The water lapped at the front of the large rock they had made into their perch. He unwrapped himself from her and stood. He pulled her up next to him before walking to the dry side of the boulder. He hopped down and turned to her, offering her his hand. She looked at the drop and knew it would be easy enough. Besides, she thought, he had done it himself, of course I can too. She approached the edge, ignoring the offered hand, but then she looked at him. His dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. His smile and openness. He trusted her, she realized, and now he was asking her to trust him. He knew she could make the leap herself, he knew she did not need his help. But he was asking her, with his outstretched hand, to accept it, to trust he would be there when she did need him.
She placed her hand in his and let him help her down. His hands settled on the tops of her hips and he pulled her against him. He wanted to kiss her, she could see as much in his eyes. And kissing would turn to more, she was certain.
But he wanted something else, something she could not identify, and something he would not name.
"You, uh, you have a place to stay?"
She nodded.
"Yeah. I, um, I wasn't exactly sure what would happen once I got here. At the very least, I figured I could use a day off."
"So, wanna go back there?" His hand brushed her cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'd say you could stay with me, but, well, there would be so many interruptions."
She looked at him as he rolled his eyes and licked his lips. She knew what he wanted. She would have stripped right there and fucked him on the beach if he had asked. She wondered how she would ever make her squad understand. Sol especially wouldn't be able to accept it.
"Probably a good idea." She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck before pulling him into a kiss. The hunger in her actions surprised her. She had thought their earlier activities would have sated her. She was so very wrong. When he stepped away from her, she saw her desire reflected in his eyes before he took her hand and led her back to the city.
The walk was longer than she remembered. Or perhaps her eagerness was to blame for the length. She wanted him. She wanted him to lock the door behind him and to use his strength to throw her to the bed. She didn't care if he tore her dress again. She only wanted him inside her, his mouth all over her.
Each step was an eternity of agony and anticipation.
So this was supposed to be chapter 1, but the characters had other ideas...