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"Two silver coins." The merchant says.
Two silver coins. Two silver coins! That is ridiculous, who would pay that much? Two silver coins are way over the budget, he can't pay that.
"That seems a little..." Asahi starts, always so cordial, trying to bargain. The merchant might have seen the hesitation in his eyes because he quickly cuts him off:
"Listen, young man, it's a long trip, ok?! Forty days, at least. Our caravan is already fully packed, you would be another mouth to feed, and you are the desperate one here. It's two silver coins or nothing."
Now, Asahi wasn't desperate. Yes, he was offered the opportunity to be a noble’s tailor in a neighboring kingdom, and he, indeed, has to be there as soon as possible, and of course traveling alone wasn't an option at all, unless he wanted to be literally found dead in a ditch. But he wasn't desperate.
Not to the point of paying two silver coins, at least.
So Asahi refuses the deal.
"Good luck, then." The merchant smiles, showing his yellowed teeth before walking away, and Asahi knows, at that exact moment, he fucked up.
There will be no other merchants, no other caravans, going to the Karasuno kingdom. There will be no company, no carriages, nothing. He will have to buy a horse, and the horse will be old, stubborn, and lame because he can't afford a good one, and he has never ridden a horse before, and he will fall off, and the horse will kick him, and Asahi will be left there to die in the middle of the forest, and when people find his dead body his flesh will have already been consumed by white, slimy larvae, and his soul will become just another lonely ghost of the road, and the horse is probably gonna have a dumb name too, like Sugarfoot or something...
That's when Asahi starts crying.
He sits down on the grass, burying his head on his knees, not caring about how his pants will get dirty. It doesn't matter anymore. If he dies on the road, some thief is going to steal his clothes anyway, and he will end up not only dead, but naked too. He would deserve that, he would deserve all of that.
"So you need a ride, huh?" Says a voice above him.
Well, apparently, Asahi might find death earlier than he expected. Yay.
He raises his head, with his still wet eyes, to find a man in a green shirt and a brown waistcoat looking at him with a gentle smile.
"I... Ummm... Well... How, how do you know?" Asahi stutters.
"Oh, I kinda heard the whole thing. Sorry, I was just passing by, but then I heard something about two silver coins and I couldn't help but stay to see what the hell that freeloader was on." The man stops for one second, making a cute pout while pondering. "Although maybe that wasn't my nosy self's fault, but much more a matter of fate, you know?"
"Fate?" Asahi questions.
"Fate, my dearest..." The man waves at him, waiting.
"Asahi."
"My dearest Asahi! I'm Suga, by the way, but you can call me your Fairy Godmother because I am about to save your life, my friend."
"What?"
"Yes! My caravan is leaving tomorrow, aren't you lucky?"
Asahi is suddenly overcome with a wave of relief. There are other caravans here. Knowing that, he feels like he can breathe for the first time in the last three minutes. Asahi dares to feel hope and stands up to look at his savior's eyes.
Maybe he won't end up dead, after all.
"And would you... Would your group agree to take me?"
Suga smiles.
"I am pretty sure they would. And for a much more fairer price, I think. But we have to talk to Ukai first, he is the one in command." He takes Asahi's arm and starts to drag him along behind him. "Let's go! The guys are going to love you."
"W-wait! What are you doing? Where are we going?"
"Oh, Asahi, don't worry! Just follow me, it will be fine. We are going to The Murder!"
Forget that. He will probably end up dead anyway.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Asahi can only watch as the streets get more and more dangerous. Suga guides them through some dirty, dark alleys until the city starts to merge with the forest. There are a couple of wagons there, "The Murder" written in big red letters on their sides. Many men are dispersed around it: a bald, tough-looking one, is leaning against a wagon, playing with a switchblade; further in the forest is a strong man with dark brown eyes chopping wood; and Asahi can see a redhead jumping on the tree tops.
But none of them hold his attention, not like the smaller man sitting next to the bonfire. His eyes have something, something Asahi can't describe, but can't stop looking at, either. They are amber, like the morning dew in the field, like the desire to devour, like hunger, like the flames he plays with. The man looks at Asahi and smiles, as if he is about to burn, as if he is inviting Asahi too.
Asahi can't help but let his anxiety take control of him. He is about to die, isn't he? He followed Suga —a guy he didn't even know — into the forest, where his body would never be found, where no one could hear him scream, where most innocent men find death. Those men could kill him so easily, Asahi realizes.
Maybe, if he runs right now, he can survive. If it's only Suga, he could take him in a fight. Possibly. Asahi just needs to escape from Suga's death grip, find a way to run back to civilization, and...
But before he can even formulate a plan, the bald guy and the one with mortal eyes are running to them.
"Suga, you are back! Who's the new guy?"
"Bringing fresh meat, huh? You never fail, Suga!"
Fresh meat...?
"Not fresh meat, Tanaka. This is my new friend, Asahi. You guys won't believe how lucky he is to find me... But that's for later. Now I have to go talk to Ukai to see what we can do about him."
"Ohhhh, you have to talk directly to Ukai? Good luck with that." The man Asahi assumes to be Tanaka says.
"What... What do you mean?" Asahi asks.
"He is just being dramatic, don't worry about it." Suga smiles, but the knot in Asahi's stomach doesn't disappear. "Soon you will learn people do tend to be dramatic here."
"For the face he is making, I am pretty sure he will be a good fit, then." Says the other man, with a little smirk on his lips. Asahi hates the way he looks at him as if knowing something he doesn't know. "He looks like he is about to pass out."
And maybe Asahi is feeling his blood pressure going down, but he doesn't need that rub on his face.
"Cut that off, guys! Asahi, don't mind them. It's not them you have to impress." Suga claps his hands and starts to drag him again.
"Impress?"
"Well, isn't that what all showmen are looking for? Someone that can impress them?"
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
"Two silver coins? What a swindler!"
"That's what I said!"
Ukai ends up being a really laid-back guy. He has long hair, not as long as Asahi's, but longer than the usual, a yellowed smile and talks with his hands, just like Suga. Suga knocked on a wagon's door and Ukai welcomed them, still half asleep, into the messy inside of it. Shivering, Asahi had to sit down in the closest chair to not pass out.
But the showman was really cool, after all. He laughed when Suga explained Asahi's miserable situation, complained about how some merchants put abusive prices on everything and didn't even try to kill Asahi in the last fifteen minutes. So, in general, not the worst guy ever.
"If you are willing to come with us, four brass coins will be enough," Ukai says. "Of course, traveling with us means it will take you longer to get into the Karasuno Kingdom since we are always stopping for shows and stuff... Especially with the Carnival coming. But I don't feel like you have many other options, do you?"
"Carnival?" It's all Asahi can ask, still lost with all the new information. At least four brass coins are a fair price.
"I guess Suga didn't explain things to you, did he? You know, my kids tend to have this problem, sometimes they get too excited and forget we aren't as famous as they think we are..." Ukai smiles fondly. "But let me clarify everything for you: we are a troupe. We travel between kingdoms, bringing art, music, and theater wherever we go. We never stay in the same place for too long, just enough to fascinate everyone there, and then we disappear, leaving only stardust behind. We are the name people claim with passion, we are the medicine for the disease of being alive, we are the entertainment, we are the magic, we are The Murder."
A troupe.
Of course they are a troupe, that explains so many things. Asahi had heard something about a couple of traveling artists in the kingdom, but he was so busy with work that he couldn't find time to watch them. And that's why Suga was so mysterious about everything, and why everyone was being so dramatic out there: they are artists, they are used to the stage, that's what they do for a living.
As a kid, Asahi always was fond of the troupes that came annually. He still remembers the shows in the middle of the streets, the excited screams from the audience, the colorful clothes he wanted to look closer at. He remembers hearing stories about princesses, heroes, and all of the people he could only dream of. He remembers having big enchanted eyes, a big shameless smile, and small hands that wanted to touch, to feel, to be part of it.
But that was way long ago.
"That actually sounded great, Ukai. Did Takeda write that for you?" Suga asks.
Asahi could do it. It's not as if he had that many options, but still. He could do it. Suga and Ukai seem to be nice guys, and he always had a soft spot for theater. A couple more days on the road isn't that big of a problem, not when the other option is not going at all, and he wasn't expecting much comfort on the trip, anyway.
"It's a deal, then." He says, and doesn't even get nervous about it.
That guy earlier had said he would be a great fit, didn't he?
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
The next morning, Asahi meets them at the beginning of the road, wearing his most comfortable boots and carrying a bag with all his belongings. Suga gives him a big hug and said he was going to love it, but soon someone calls him and he leaves Asahi alone behind.
Not wanting to disturb anyone this early, Asahi stays at the back of the group, walking to his rhythm, letting the morning take care of him.
A green canopy extends over their head, and, where the morning sun penetrates it, the road glows in lazy shades of yellow. Asahi feels it dripping on his forearms, the same way we would feel the rain entering through his pores and dyeing his blood.
He listens to the faraway birds and the calm trade wind breeze that embraces him, like a mother who rocks her child, and he can only smile, soothed by the lull of nature.
Asahi can't help but let his mind wander. From his place from behind, he watches everyone. Ukai goes first, riding the black stallion that pulls his wagon, with a distant look in his eyes. It matches him —the look, the horse, the work. By the side of the first wagon, the redheaded guy seems to be arguing with a taller one who is frowning; from the way he jumps, restless, Asahi wonders if he might be a contortionist.
Following a little behind is the second wagon, driven by an older man with messy hair and a thin figure that Asahi assumed to be Takeda, whom Suga mentioned yesterday. He hums lightly, smiling at the road in front of him. Walking next to the maybe-Takeda are two slender men and a small blond woman whom Asahi hadn't seen before. The tallest of the three has an expressionless face while the other two talk and Asahi can't help the thought that the man looks odd among the group of dramatic and loud artists.
A few steps ahead of Asahi, Suga talks excitedly with Tanaka, in a conversation that ends up being more gestures than words. They might be great on the stage, Asahi thought, kids might love them. By their side is the third, and last, wagon, pulled by a bicolor horse. Riding him is the man with fiery eyes.
In the silence of the road, Asahi takes his time assessing him. Broad shoulders, confident smile, playful hands resting on his thighs. The horse under him is spotted in black and white, just like his hair: mostly black, but with a tinny blonde tuft. A birthmark, clearly, but the idea made Asahi smile. To be marked at birth, to be destinated, to be something, to be someone.
"What's on your mind , big guy?" A voice asks by his side, and Asahi jumps in fear. He turns to see the man he saw chopping wood, with big hands and a big smile. "The roads have these effects on everyone, the silence, the chance to reflect... I am Daichi, by the way."
"I just... Think that you guys may be great company for the peregrination." Asahi says, and surprises himself with how much he meant it. "I am Asahi."
"Oh, that's great to hear! Everyone is really excited about having someone new around, you know." Daichi smiles. "Suga can't stop bragging about how he saved your life, he is so melodramatic... But I guess fate brought us together, huh? I think we should enjoy it."
Daichi seems to be a really genuine guy. Someone controlled, with his head in the right place. Asahi knows they are going to be great friends.
"I think you are right."
The sun washes their skin, the birds sing a lullaby, the world smiles at them. The silence falls, comfortable, like the petals on the trees, and they let it absorb them. It's a lazy morning, they don't have to do too much.
Oh, but what a blessing is the hurry, what a blessing is the inquietude, what a blessing is the desire.
"You know the guy on the third wagon?" Asahi sees himself asking. "What's his name?"
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
"So, I heard you been asking about me, huh?"
Oh, fuck, it's the only thought on Asahi's mind when Nishinoya — Nishinoya, the name Daichi told him earlier —approaches him that night.
As night fell, they stopped on a glade to build a campfire and sleep, and Asahi was glad to finally rest his tired feet after a day of walking. Suga and Daichi offered to search for sticks, and Asahi sat down on the ground , a bit shyly, wanting to talk to the rest of the troupe but not knowing how.
That was until he felt an elbow on his left side and turned to see Nishinoya there.
"I-I'm sorry." Asahi mumbles, suddenly feeling like asking someone's name is something too personal.
Nishinoya only smiles.
"Don't be. It happens a lot when you are a traveling artist. Burdens of the job, I guess. But I was also curious about you: the tall, strong guy with beautiful hair and a soft heart. There are a couple of things I need to know before I consider you trustworthy, you know?"
Asahi felt paralyzed. The last thing he wanted was to be on someone's bad side. Especially on his first day here. Especially when they could kill him while he sleeps. Especially Nishinoya's.
"What is it?" He asks.
"What's your favorite color?"
Asahi thinks he might have misheard that.
"Come again?"
"What's your favorite color?"
Asahi thought for a moment. He likes many colors, he works with them daily. He knows the difference between a northern royal blue and a western navy blue cloth with his eyes closed. It's not a hard question.
Except it is.
"I would say... Pale yellow, maybe? Like the first sunshine in the sky."
"HELL YEAH!!" Nishinoya screams. "That's an actual color. I hate when people say something like white or black. Second question: how do you make your hair so pretty?"
Asahi feels a bit confused, but happy too. That's it? That's what the man needs to know to know he is trustworthy? It doesn't seem to be a good criterion, but what was Asahi expecting? They are bards, aren't they? And, close like that, Nishinoya seems to be much more friendly than intimidating. Of course he would see if someone is worthy of trust by asking a question most kids would.
Asahi thinks it's kind of sweet.
"I just... Just wash it?"
Nishinoya blinks, suspicious.
"Just wash it?"
"Yes?"
"No witchcraft involved?"
"No!! I swear, no witchcraft! I wouldn't... I don't..." Asahi stutters, not wanting to be burned alive only because he has pretty hair.
"Oh, man, that sucks! So then I still have to find a wizard to prove to Daichi that they are real..." And, then, he pauses for a second. "Do you believe in them?"
Asahi smiles.
"Well, I can't say they are real, but I can't also say they are unreal. And the stories become much more entertaining when you believe in it a bit, don't you think?"
Nishinoya blinks, silent for a second before he throws his head back with an audible GWAAHH!!
"God, you are way cooler than Daichi!! Yeah, that's it, you can have my trust."
"Thanks?" Asahi asks, not knowing exactly how to react.
"You are well..." But before he can finish the sentence, Nishinoya is interrupted by Daichi calling.
"Nishinoya, stop annoying Asahi and come help me with the campfire!"
Noya pouts, but stands up anyway. He walks two steps before turning to Asahi with a grin.
"See? I told you you are way cooler..."
Asahi stays there, watching as they light the fire. When it starts to grow and Takeda starts cooking their dinner, Nishinoya sits there, his face devoured by the red of the flames, and watches Asahi too, with such an intensity it makes him embarrassed.
At some point, Yamaguchi, a guy whose name Asahi learned e earlier today, takes a lute out of the wagon, and starts to sing with a sweet voice. The troupe claps their hands, sings along, jumps out of their seats to dance. And suddenly everything becomes the sounds of their steps on the floor, the way their bodies move rhythmically, the feeling of unity.
"Dance with me, Asahi!" Nishinoya asks.
And the night hugs them with its cold starts, stinging the back of their throat with its infinity, marking their skin with an indifferent affection, smiling at the birth of something new.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
"Wakey, wakey!!" Asahi is taken from his dreams by two small hands pressing his shoulder. He blinks, sleepily, trying to focus his eyes. When he finally understands what's going on he sees Nishinoya smiling, offering him a hand to stand up. "Come on, if you don't wake up soon Ukai might leave you here."
That's all it takes to make him stand up, yawning. Asahi rubs his eyes and stretches out, ready to start another day of walking. Today, the sun shines bright in the sky, and he takes a moment to appreciate the new vegetation on this part of the road. The green meeting, hugging, devouring the green.
Since last night, Nishinoya seems to be interested in knowing more about him — he seems to be the kind of guy who is always attracted to the new — so they walk side by side. Silently, at the beginning. Bodies moving in one syntony, step by step on the ground, the footsteps a mark of their existence.
From the little Asahi knows about Noya so far, he can tell he isn't quiet at all, but Nishinoya seems to respect Asahi's time to wake up and doesn't talk. He only watches the morning penetrating the trees, the dew falling in happiness, the first signs of the birth of another day.
But the silence doesn't last forever. It never does.
"So, no horse privileges today?" Asahi asks Noya the moment he feels awake enough to talk.
"No horse privileges today! We switch: yesterday was me, so today it's Daichi, then it's Suga, and so on ... But I wouldn't call it exactly a privilege. Your ass hurts and your thighs burn when you ride too much." And then Nishinoya looks at him and smiles a crooked and wide smile, showing all his teeth. "Besides that, it would make it harder to talk to you, right? So I am glad there is no horse for me today."
And then they walk, talking and laughing. Asahi comments on Hinata and Kageyana's fights; Nishinoya agrees. Nishinoya tells him stories of different kingdoms; Asahi listens. Asahi raises his arm to feel the green leaves brushing against his hands, kissing his fingertips; Nishinoya jumps and catches a bunch of leaves to tear apart while they walk, cutting it with his bare nails.
"How did you end up here?" Asahi asks.
"'End up here?' " Nishinoya quotes. "What? Do you expect me to tell you a sad story about how my family sold me to the circus in exchange for three magic beans?"
The irony in Nishinoya's voice makes Asahi pale.
"That's... That's not what I meant at all! I was just curious, I swear! I didn't want to offend you or anything."
"Nah, I'm just kidding, you big dummy." Noya laughs. "But I just... Don't you think that I would have died in any other place? Don't you think I would have been miserable? Don't you think I would chirp, bluely, like a crow in a birdcage?"
He tries to imagine it. Tries to imagine Nishinoya's loud laugh and wolf's teeth in a typical life. Being a blacksmith's apprentice, maybe; his face darkened by rust and his eyes sunken by routine. Calloused hands, a sweet wife, a home.
It doesn't seem horrible. It seems like something Asahi himself would want. A birdcage.
"What do you mean?"
"Birds have wings and feel the need to fly, Asahi. I was born to that: the stage, the travels, the dust on my boots, the stars on my palate. That's the only life I know, my grandpa raised me like that. It's in my blood, it's in my veins. We are birds, we have no home."
Asahi only listens, silently, imagining oh, how lovely it would be to be a bird.
How lovely would it be to not love a birdcage.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
The nights always end up in singing. They are musicians, after all. The night always ends up in dark blue. Someone will take an instrument and they will sing like their life depends on it. The night always ends up in communion. Their voice becomes one, the hot broth filling everyone's plate, the shared hugs, and the lies that run rampant by word of mouth.
But there is always a silence, at the end. When the music finally stops, when everyone decides it's time to sleep, when suddenly the night dies.
Asahi loves it.
It's the time of the whispers, and black cats mewl from far away. It's time to be naked, and he wants to rip out his skin by himself. It's time to look at the campfire and see its flames reflected in his eyes, burning in a sacred shade of red.
Watching in silence every night, he realizes a couple of things.
"Takeda always follows Ukai to his wagon..."
Nishinoya, sat by his side, has his figure delimited by the fire. The light blurs the fine line of the nose but highlights his jaw so much that Asahi thinks he might cut himself if he were bold enough to touch it. His smile is relaxed, half loose, wolf teeth incapable of hurting, taken by the sleepiness.
"Of course he follows. It's their room."
"Their room?" He echoes.
"Yes, their room. Living on the road has many advantages, you know?" Noya smiles. "The possibility of being yourself is the greatest of them."
Oh.
Oh.
Maybe his world was way smaller than he imagined.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
The first time they stop at a village, the world seems to be filled with happiness. The laughter runs fast on the kid's throats, the women clap their hands in delight, the men scream as they pass. Everything spins in hurry, passion, and joy.
The grey paving stone seems to shine with the sunlight, and the people are a crowd of colors: red, blue, yellow, orange, and green. Asahi breathes dully, trying to taste the rainbow and the warmth on his papillae.
He helps to set up the stage, just to be a part of it.
"Ayo, If it isn't my favorite stagehand..." Noya appears while Asahi is crouched down, nailing the wood together. He is all in green, with a small bycocket on the top of his head and a smirk on his face. Asahi feels a bit dizzy looking up at him: from this angle, Nishinoya seems even more powerful, confident, unbeatable.
"What's up with the hat?" Asahi asks, touching its tip.
"Don't you think I look cute?" He turns around to show off. Yes, Asahi wants to say but stops himself. "Silly hat, roguish smile... It's usually a success."
"I am pretty sure it is." He smiles. "But I guess I will have to see it with my own eyes to judge it."
Nishinoya's smirk only grows wider.
"Oh, just wait a little, Asahi. I am pretty sure I can impress you more than you imagine."
When the show is about to start, Asahi goes to the audience. He sits on the ground between a bunch of children and watches them play while he waits. They have sticks in their hands that they pretend are swords while poking each other. Asahi can't help the smile or the feeling that it once was him.
The dirt on his hands, the delight in his eyes, the innocence of hope. Where did that time go?
But Asahi doesn't have much time to sink into self-pity. Not when the show is starting and he is suddenly transported to that period of time once again.
Nishinoya on the stage is an amazing thing to see. When he is on stage the world becomes silent, and the only thing that matters is him: his golden eyes demand attention, his small figure grows until it becomes too big for the square, his voice blows like the sky before a storm.
He is a force of nature. When he screams it's as if thunder has crossed the sky. When he laughs it floods Asahi's chest, like an ocean that drowns him in his heavenly waves. When he cries Asahi feels it running down his own cheeks.
And Asahi is suddenly a kid again, and stars fall from his eyes in delight, and the smile on his face is so, so real, and so, so bare, and so, so wide and wild and wise that it could tear his flesh apart. Robin Hood is suddenly everything he wants to be, and Nishinoya is suddenly everything he wants to have.
Oh, to claim life once again and oh, to dream inconsequentially.
At the end of the play, Nishinoya looks directly at Asahi and gives him a little wink.
"You seemed really delighted, Asahi." Nishinoya laughs, later that day.
Asahi scratches his neck, embarrassed.
"I've always loved theater. And Robin Hood has always been one of my favorite stories ever. I just think he is so kind..."
"And so brave!" Noya screams.
"And he is antimonarchist!"
Nishinoya smiles as if he had swallowed the Sun.
"I didn't know you had that inside you."
Asahi looks at him, dead in the eyes, and tries not to shake when he repeats the words he heard earlier.
"Well, I am pretty sure I can impress you more than you imagine."
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
"I'm gonna die!" Yachi cries.
Asahi discovers she has a lot in common with him. They are both anxious and pessimists, so it's not that big of a deal when he hears her screaming that. It happens at least once a week.
"Yachi, it's not that big of a deal, maybe we could..." Takeda tries.
"There is no way we can fix that before the show!"
"I could try to sew it..."
And that's what caught Asahi's attention. Sewing is something he understands, so maybe it's something he could help with.
"What's the matter, Yacchan?" He asks, walking to her.
"Oh, Asahi, it's a disaster! I've ripped my dress on a nail, and the show will start in about an hour!"
"Can I see it? Maybe I can fix it."
The dress isn't unfixable as Yachi thought. It has a big rip in the front, but Asahi quickly gets his sewing kit and sews the dress, with stitches so small that they seem invisible. Yachi is delighted.
"It's amazing Asahi! Thank you!" She screams.
"You know, we could use someone with your ability..." Takeda says to him.
And Asahi is happy. So, so happy. He is happy to be useful, he is happy to be part of something. The show follows without much more unforeseen, and, when it ends, he feels like a part of the applause was for him too.
"You are the best, Asahi!" Noya says, when Yachi tells him the story later. "We should celebrate!"
And the night ends up having this quality, this liquor perfume in its air, that intoxicates Asahi even before the wood of the beer mug touches his lips. The loud music, the applause from earlier , the people's laughter, the shouts from the drunks, the shine of the moon, the wind's whispers, the life itself.
And women dance, tapping their shoes on the floor, and the tavern owners raise large mugs of beer, and Nishinoya takes his arm — two steps right, two steps left — and the world smiles at them.
"You are great at this too, Asahi."
And it might be the alcohol in his system, or it might be the excitement of the night, but he wants to be great. For Nishinoya, for himself, because he is greedy, because he is selfless.
He wants to be great.
He puts his hands on Noya's waist, spins him like a maniac, babbles against his lapel, I don't want to let you go, and I would miss you, and I would miss me, and I want to stay in this moment forever, and aren't we young, and he wants to be great, so he fill his mug again and recites poetry to the whole tavern, without shaking, or shame or sham.
"If I exploded right now, if I became ground glass in destiny's cruel hands, I would be orange like the common voice, I would be blue like the harp’s cry, I would be..."
Nishinoya only looks at him with stars in his eyes, bites his lips trying not to smile, and mumbles:
"You would be my favorite color, Asahi."
And that's something Asahi is happy to be too.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
When they finally get to the capital of Nekoma's kingdom, Asahi feels like he could explode. Everything suddenly is too much: the squares are bigger, the people are many, the streets are crowded. The air is penetrated with voices and smells and colors and life.
Sailors whistle at the left, merchants shout at the right, laughing women blink passionately, young maids run with buckets and buckets of clothes.
He is enchanted.
He is enchanted, he has never been somewhere like this, with so many different people, so many different stories, so many different cultures. He is enchanted, so of course everyone notices.
"First time, Asahi?" Suga asks.
But he can't even respond. Not when the world roars in his ears, and all he can do is widen his eyes and turn his head around, scared of missing something.
They are a day early . The carnival only starts tomorrow, and that means they can spend the day however they want. And Asahi is enchanted, isn't he? And everyone had noticed that. And then Nishinoya has a hand on his own, a smile on his face and an invitation in his words.
"Do you wanna see the market?"
The market ends up being even more crowded. A bunch of stalls in the streets that offer everything one could dream of. Apples and knives, potions and drugs, books and lies.
"Come on, prove some spice!"
"Potatoes! Potatoes! Potatoes!"
"There once was a ship that..."
"The apples are cheaper for pretty ladies!"
"It's too expensive."
"A brass coin."
"Can't you lower it a little bit?"
"Two silver coins!"
"It's from India, you know..."
The world melts into a spiraling cacophony, and the air smells red from the pepper and sweat. Bodies crash into him, and Asahi can only mumble an apology before Noya drags him around again.
Nishinoya, somehow, can be even more colorful than the city. He takes Asahi through the best stalls and never drops his hand. Here, take a bite of this candy, and Asahi's world is exploding with the taste. Here, take a sip of this drink, and Asahi's pharynx is crying for help. Here, come listen to this song, and suddenly they are dancing with people they have never seen before, changing partners, swaying from arm to arm.
Until they find each other.
Until their eyes meet, the music gets even louder, and the sound of bargains, the sweaty air, and the shiny streets become perfect, and perfect only. They throw their heads back, laugh a bare laugh that sounds too much like a hurt animal, and hug each other like they never had before.
Maybe because it is their first time.
When they finally get tired, panting from the effort, Asahi sits on the floor and Nishinoya stares at him in silence for a moment. Studying, analyzing. Asahi feels embarrassed as if the look could burn him.
"Wait for me here, I will be back soon."
Asahi is left there, watching as the afternoon swallows the city, and the heat of thousands of bodies begins to subside in smaller groups. Nishinoya comes back a few moments later, with three yellow flowers in his hands.
"Let me braid your hair." He asks, and Asahi lets him.
Nishinoya ends up being great at that, carefully tracing the scalp with agile fingers, and braiding the hair with trained moves. He is also quiet, focused, and Asahi doesn't know how to feel about having all this attention on him.
Noya places the flowers in the middle of the braid, vibrant yellow against solid brown, and claps when he finishes. Asahi takes his hand to the back of his head to feel Nishinoya's work.
"Where did you learn that?" He asks.
"Yachi taught me that. I asked her to, so I could do it in Sugarfoot's mane."
No way.
"Sugarfoot?"
"Yeah, it's one of the horse's names. You didn't know?" Noya says as if it were obvious.
Asahi only smiles, drunk in the irony of the world. Somewhere out there, the universe might be writhing in a hoarse laugh, enjoying making him a fool.
Let them laugh, Asahi thought. Let them laugh...
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
It's way harder to breathe wearing a porcelain mask than he expected. The mask is heavy, the fabric that comes out of its end is hard, and his breath condenses against it. Asahi still loves it, though.
The masks are so beautiful, painted in white with details in the troupe's colors, orange and black. There is also a costume that Ukai lends him to match, and the fine satin is cold against his arms. If the world seemed too much yesterday, today too much is too little to describe it.
"Carne vale!" Suga exclaims in a language Asahi doesn't understand, before taking some juggling clubs and disappearing.
Hinata does cartwheels among the crowd, Tanaka plays a big drum, Daichi makes coins appear behind people's ears. Everyone is doing something, and Asahi's whole body trembles with excitement.
"Stay by my side!" Noya says when the troupe divides into different streets.
Asahi follows him, walking through the flood of bodies and claps. Serpentine flies through the skies, revelers melt into a happy and rebellious mass, freedom raises the hairs on his arms. It's Carnaval. So they stop at bars and drink with people they don't know. And it's carnival. So everything becomes a blur of lights and laughs. And it's carnival. So they can be anything, everything they want to be.
When the Sun sets and the parade starts to disperse, Nishinoya takes Asahi through a pretty alley with big houses on it. He looks around, waits until no one is watching, and puts his bag on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Asahi asks.
From inside of it Noya takes two big, red tomatoes.
"You know what's the best part of Carnaval, Asahi?"
"Nishinoya..." He says hesitantly, already knowing where this is going.
"There are no rules. For a couple of days, everyone is equal."
"Nishi..."
"Oh, and the masks! Isn't the anonymity just perfect?"
"Noya..."
Nishinoya gives him one tomato.
"They are the days of hedonism. The only days people can rebel, without consequence , can feel all the feelings they had to bottle up during the rest of the year."
"We might get caught! And it's wrong! And this is probably a noble's house, and he would cut off our heads if he found out, and that would be bad for the troupe, and Daichi would kill us if we get murdered... A-and it's a waste of food!!"
Noya only smiles, white like a wolf.
"It's Carnaval, Asahi! Carne vale, farewell the meat!" He screams. "It's the party of sins!"
And, oh, Asahi really wants to sin. Looking deep into Noya's eyes, he wants to sin, and wants to feel guilty, and wants to have the courage he never had. He wants to grab life, dig his nails into it, and finally claim something. He wants to be strong like Nishinoya, he wants to be free, he wants to fly.
But Asahi was never a bird.
He was never a bird, and his desires always slipped between his fingers. He was never a bird, and he could never be like Nishinoya, Suga, or Ukai. He was never a bird, and he is much more like a fish out of water, incapable of breathing, dying little by little, unable to leave his prison.
He throws the tomato, anyway.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
The Carnaval passes as a blur of days that merge into a nostalgic painting of lights and voices in the back of his mind. Sooner than he expected they are back on the road. The green canopy greets them once again, the silence rocks them like a careful mother, and the sunshine kisses their skin as if saying I missed you.
But Asahi is still not very sure. Carnaval says goodbye, but leaves its nail marks on his back. He feels like something has changed, but without changing at all. He feels like something should change, but without knowing what. He feels a need, a despair.
He saw a fox. It was eating, with so much hunger, as if it never had tried meat before. He couldn't recognize what was the body that the fox tore apart with its white teeth at first, but he could see the blood dripping like blackberry juice from it, staining all the fur around its mouth. Asahi wanted to look away, but he felt almost attached to the image — the flesh devouring flesh, the despair, the bright crimson, the rawness, the hunger, the hunger, the hunger.
Its eyes had some infinity, black involving amber, honey meeting darkness, life hugging death. As if asking: would it hurt? Would it hurt to devour? Would it hurt to be a fox? Would it hurt to be free?
Would it hurt to be a hare?
No, that's not it.
Would it hurt to be him?
For the rest of the day, Asahi swears he can feel those amber eyes on him. Undressing him, ripping off his skin, eating the meat between his ribcages, carving its teeth on his heart. He is scared.
But he can't stop thinking about it. He just can't. He repeats the memory, again, again, again and again. Compulsively, obsessively.
As if he wanted to be eaten, as if he wanted to eat, as if he wanted to bleed, as if he wanted to drink blood, as if he wanted to be a fox, as if he wanted to be a hare, as if he wanted to touch, to feel, to sin, to kiss.
As if he wanted to devour. As if he wanted to be devoured.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Because the universe is always this funny, and because you can never really recover from a hangover without having another, they end up at a tavern in the middle of the road. It's more crowded than you would expect, with some other merchants that follow the opposite road.
But somehow the music hurts today.
Asahi tries not to think too much; he tries to run from his ghosts and from amber eyes, but he can't. Of course Nishinoya ends up sitting in front of him at the table, and of course he offers Asahi a beer, and of course he smiles brighter than the lamps.
Asahi accepts it, desperately drinking the beer, wishing the alcohol could wash everything away.
So, later, he won't remember how it happened. He will remember a man putting a big hand on his shoulder, and he will remember the mocking tone on his voice, and of course he will remember Nishinoya standing up, all canine teeth and anger . But he will not remember how and why and won't be able to explain.
Maybe that's what happens when young men drink too much. Maybe that's just Nishinoya's nature. Maybe this night is doomed to failure.
"Who do you think you are? Fuck off, asshole." Nishinoya says.
And suddenly there is a punch, and suddenly there is blood, and suddenly Nishinoya is on top of the man and Daichi is pulling him by the shoulder, screaming at him to stop. The world spins, and the screams become a big symphony in Asahi's ears.
He watches everything, with big doe eyes, paralyzed.
When Nishinoya finally releases the man, the blood drips from his nose like the dew on the leaves, staining all the skin around his mouth, painting his lips red. It's a dark waterfall that colors his white teeth in an almost animal smile. The boy with crimson canines that licks his own blood, that smiles as if it didn't hurt at all, that devours life without being scared. Asahi wanted to look away, but he felt almost attached to the image — the flesh devouring itself, the despair, the bright crimson, the rawness, the hunger, the hunger, the hunger. The smile Noya gave him.
And, oh, his eyes. The eyes that Asahi has been running from, the eyes that he saw earlier today. The same amber, the same black ring, the same desire. Those eyes that undress, those eyes that destroy, those eyes that devour. The eyes Asahi noticed when they first met, inviting him to burn, inviting him to hurt, inviting him to feel.
Nishinoya stares at him with blood and honey, and Asahi can almost feel Noya's teeth carving his heart and tearing it apart. Because Nishinoya is suddenly the fox, and Asahi is suddenly the hare, and he wants to scream and beg it to stop but he can't.
Because, suddenly, it didn't hurt to be free.
It didn't hurt, and Noya looks at him and smiles all red and white like wildflowers, and says:
"No man is ever alive before watching his first bar fight, Asahi!"
And Asahi wants to be devoured but also wants to devour, and he wants to be a hare as much as he wants to be a fox, and he wants to be free and to feel and to fly and he suddenly doesn't even care if it will hurt anymore.
Would it hurt to not be here? To not be him?
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Asahi wakes up earlier than usual. Early enough to see the Sun melting against the cold, pale night. It burns in orange, like a house that auto-destructs itself: the tears in a mother's eyes, all the aflame memories and black ashes, the pain and the beauty, and the desire to burn down too.
He didn't sleep well. He couldn't. Not when he knows tomorrow will be his last day with the troupe. The Karasuno kingdom came faster than he expected, and now a goodbye approaches, leaving a strange void in his chest.
Asahi wants to cling on this day, but it runs like water through his fingers. It seems like the more he wants something, the less he can have. The morning shatters into a series of barely remembered flashes. The evening could have been blue, doesn't it have so many desires.
The night dies silently, suffocating him in a deadly embrace, kissing him with cold lips, sucking all his soul through his mouth. He sits by the fire and watches as everyone lies down to sleep.
He doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want to go back to his life before. He doesn't want to forget everything as if it were a fever dream. Asahi had just discovered he loves the life of traveling. The roads are always so green, so affectionate, but also so cruel, so raw, that it undresses him, animalizes him, makes him human once again. The shows are a bunch of glitter on his stomach that threatens to come back and color his life one more time, a connection with the mystical, the fantastic, the childhood, an easier time. The troupe is a family that smiles at him, and...
And Nishinoya is something. Something special, something divine, something sacred. He and his cunning eyes, red lips and pretty nose. He and his bad jokes, unstoppable passion, need to fly. Nishinoya, the boy on fire. The boy that devours, the boy that burns, the boy that loves.
Love. A word that Asahi hadn't experienced the weight on his tongue before. Lo-ve. Like a heartbeat, like the silence of the night, like the multitude of voices at a festival. He trembles and hesitates around those two little syllables, as if they could hurt him. And, oh, couldn't they?
He said he wouldn't be scared of being hurt anymore, and he said he wouldn't be scared of such a pure feeling, and he said he, too, would devour.
But fishes are such scared animals...
Nishinoya doesn't seem to be wanting to leave his side so early either. He usually is one of the first to go to sleep, but tonight he stays. Stays there, in silence, looking at the flames. As if the wood burning represented the fleetingness of life.
"You are leaving tomorrow." He mumbles, without looking away from the flames. Asahi wants to cry.
"I am." He says, instead.
"I can't believe I will never see you again."
"I am not dying, Noya."
Noya smiles. A sad and broken smile, that never touches his eyes.
"But it feels like you are." Asahi doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't, and the silence falls cold against their bare cheeks until Noya talks again. "If you... If you were actually dying tomorrow..."
"I won't, Nishinoya."
"I know. It's just that if... If it happened, if we all die tomorrow, what's one thing you haven't done that you would really want to?"
And the campfire casts a yellowish light on their faces, and Nishinoya's eyes have a deep sadness on their bottom, and Asahi simply can't hold it anymore.
"Honestly?"
"Honestly." Noya begs.
And Asahi kisses him.
He kisses him with all the passion he has been hiding, all the feelings he has been choking on, all the desire he has been shalowing. Hadn't Noya, since day one, invited him to burn? Asahi accepts it. His world is consumed by the fire, and suddenly there is only Nishinoya and hunger. I love you, his chest aches. Closer, his heart beats. I am starving, his stomach gnaws.
And freedom is the only thing he tastes on Nishinoya's lips.
When they break apart, Noya's eyes shine like the stars in the sky.
"Will you stay?" He asks, hopeful.
Asahi is paralyzed. Stay? He didn't want to let this go, of course he didn't, but staying... Staying sounds like craziness. It's such a big step, and his legs are so small, and he has never been the brave type. He wants to, but he simply can't. He can't just throw away his life to chase a fever dream. Doesn't matter how much he wants it. Doesn't matter how much he wants Noya.
It's like the floor is collapsing under his feet, but he has no wings to fly. Of course he doesn't have them.
"I..." Asahi sighs. "I can't."
"You can't?" Nishinoya asks, so, so, hurt, with so much pain in his eyes that Asahi swears he could cry blood. "Why?"
"There is no place for me in the troupe..." He starts.
"Ukai told me he would love to have someone creating our costumes."
"I already have work on the Karasuno kingdom..."
"You could quit it."
"I couldn't always live on the road..."
"You have been loving it."
"I just... I wasn't born to that, Nishinoya. Not like you guys. If you guys are birds and have no home, I am much more like a fish." He admits, defeated. "And fish have no wings. Fish don't fly."
Nishinoya laughs. A raw and cruel laugh, that sounds awfully like his rib cages being torn apart.
"Stop trying to lie to me."
"I am not lying!"
"Yes, you are! If not to me, then to yourself. I would be ok with you leaving if that was what you really wanted, Asahi. But is it?"
Is it?
"Nishinoya..."
"No! It would be prettier if you just admit you aren't brave enough to pursue what you want. But telling me that's not to you? I saw it in your eyes, Asahi! The hunger, the need to devour, the desire to fly. More than I have seen in anyone's, so don't lie to me. Don't lie, because I would be ok if you were just leaving me, but you are giving up on yourself too, and I could never forgive that!"
"What would you know?" He asks. "What would you know about me?"
Because Nishinoya would never understand. They are simply not the same. Nishinoya was made for greater things, he was marked at birth. And Asahi wasn't. He wasn't marked, and he isn't brave, and he isn't strong. He shouldn't have accepted the invitation, not when he knows he is not a phoenix. He will burn, and it will hurt, and he can't pretend he doesn't care.
"Yeah, what would I know?" Nishinoya says, disappointment dripping in his voice. He stands up and starts walking to find a place to sleep. "I just think that a birdcage is a birdcage, Asahi. And it kills birds, of course it kills. But it kills fish even faster."
"Noya..." Asahi calls.
"Just... Don't, Asahi. Don't."
And Asahi is left there, with only the silence, the fire, and the fear to accompany him in these dark nights.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Asahi watches as the caravan starts to leave. It's over. The noise of the wagons moving away sounds like prison bars closing, and it's almost as if he could see a golden cage around him. Where are the keys? He thinks, melancholic.
Suga cried when they said goodbye. Daichi hugged him, Yachi gave him a tissue as a souvenir, and Ukai told him he could count on them for whatever he needed. Nishinoya didn't say goodbye. Or looked in his eyes, since their fight.
Now Asahi is trapped once again. Exactly the way he wanted. Where no fire can reach him, no pain can be felt, and the metal bars above his head prevent him from his much-feared freedom. He wanted that, didn't he? He is the one with the keys.
And isn't that all he always had dreamed about? His face darkened by rust and his eyes sunken by routine? Calloused hands, a sweet wife, a home, a birdcage? Isn't that all he wanted?
But his teeth have been sharpening and becoming lupines, and in the silence of the roads his laughs had space to grow louder and louder. Theater makes him feel like a kid once again. And who could blame a kid for dreaming? Who could blame a kid for being delighted? Who could blame a kid for being hungry?
Something weird about humanity is that they don't know they want something until they have it. Until they have their nails deep into it and call it viciously theirs. Until they don't have it anymore and learn what empty truly means.
He can't say farewell to his meat, to his flesh, to himself. So he is running.
The world burns beside Asahi, the red flames lick his arms, and if he had a cigar, he would light it on it, and watch the fire Nishinoya had brought into his life. The way it swallows everything, destroys all the buildings, melts the golden bars of his birdcage.
"Wait for me!" He screams at the top of his lungs.
And the birdcage shatters into thousands of golden fragments next to his feet, and the fire consumes him completely, and it finally happens — he flies.