And the Poppy Blooms

by orankiro

Summary:

Tooru has known love since he was a child. He never sought a mate because he'd already found one. His marriage was planned and wanted for as long as he could remember. He bloomed under this certainty in the way poppies bloom in the spring sun.

And just as summer rains come to rip the petals away, so do Hajime's words blot out that shining certainty.

“I humbly ask to marry your youngest, Tobio."

Notes:

HELLO!

Please enjoy the first part of my IwaOi Big Bang fic! The other two parts will be posted throughout summer! :3

For the historical aspects: Please do not expect 100% authenticity. I did some research and incorporated some elements from the Edo period. But as the story still is omegaverse, I have changed a lot of things. So it's like a fun mixture of realism and fantasy!

A huge thank you to my beta Vixen13!!! You're the best!
Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Full Bloom

The trees vibrate with the screams of cicadas. The poppies are in full bloom, their vibrant red petals swaying gently in the summer breeze. A clear blue stretches across the sky above them, devoid of a single cloud. Two servants stand beside the small group of children, holding parasols in an attempt to protect them from the flaring sun. The servants themselves try to stand under the soothing shade of the garden trees, but since the children keep moving, they aren’t allowed this luxury for very long.

Hajime is eleven years old, laughing and playing kemari with his best friends. He is finally old enough to wear a pair of hakama, although he is currently in a more casual attire, wearing a simple jinbei to manage the sweltering heat. He kicks the ball with a confident grin, shooting it up towards the sky. Tooru runs and manages to keep it in motion. Tobio, two years younger, is eager to keep up as well.

Then, as Tobio tries kicking the ball, it spins into an awkward direction that neither Hajime and Tooru manage to catch. The ball falls to the ground with a soft thud. 

“Tobio-chan!” Tooru scolds his younger brother. “You should try to pass the ball to either me or Iwa-chan!”

“I’m sorry,” Tobio apologizes, looking at his older brother with his big, innocent eyes. Tooru groans impatiently.

“Don’t be so mean to him,” Hajime scolds his friend. His gaze softens as he looks down at the younger boy. “It’s okay, Tobio. We can start over.”

“I’m sorry,” Tobio repeats. He’s both smaller and quieter than Hajime and Tooru, and Hajime often finds himself feeling sorry for him. Especially since Tooru tends to be rather tough on him.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru whines impatiently, walking up to his friend and grabbing his arm. “You’re my best friend, not Tobio-chan’s,” he says firmly, holding Hajime’s arm a bit too hard for Hajime’s liking.

Annoyed with Tooru’s childishness, Hajime yanks his arm away. “Yes, yes,” he huffs. “Now, let’s restart the game.”

Tooru narrows his eyes, displeased with his friend’s reply. “I’m serious,” he says. “You are mine. ”

Hajime feels his cheeks heat uncomfortably under Tooru’s determined gaze. Tobio, on the other hand, stares at the older boys innocently. Last week, Hajime had accidentally overheard his parents speaking about his future — he will marry either Tooru and Tobio when he is older. Perhaps that’s what Tooru is referring to? It feels weird to think about that — about being married to either of them. For now he just wants to play kemari with them. Still, Tooru’s gaze is unfaltering, his large brown eyes staring at Hajime as if they see through his skin and right into his mind.

“Yes,” Hajime eventually agrees.

Finally, Tooru’s gaze softens and a satisfied smile overtakes his pale face. He nods in approval. “Good.”

Tobio takes a careful step closer, gently holding the ball that he must have picked up during Tooru’s small tantrum. “Shall we continue?” 

Tooru turns to look at his younger brother, sweeter than before. “Alright, Tobio-chan. This time you should try to pass the ball to either me or Iwa-chan. Try lifting your foot like this,” he instructs while lifting his own foot to demonstrate.

Eager to learn, Tobio copies his older brother, his eyes widened in awe at getting friendly attention from him for once. Hajime watches them before he, too, lifts his foot to practice. For a moment, the older boys help Tobio perfect his technique. The servants are pleased because the children are somewhat still and they’re able to hold the parasols above them. The merciless sun keeps shining down on them, phantom snakes slithering in the air above the ground in the heat.

Then, just as they are about to begin their second round of kemari, the servants inform them that it is time to retreat indoors to eat. Hajime’s mouth almost waters at the promises of fruits. Watermelon, in particular, is fresh and delicious at this time of year. He follows the servants to the main building, dutifully staying beneath the parasols. 

“Young master,” he hears a servant call. He turns around and sees Tooru stuck in the field, staring at the bright red poppies in the garden next to them.

“They are so red,” he says absent-mindedly. Hajime, too, stops to look at them. They really are red. 

“Yes,” the servant agrees. “But they will remain like that for another week. So, please, join us for some fruits,” she urges.

Tooru finally breaks loose from his hypnosis and follows the rest. Tobio looks up at his older brother in confusion, before giving Hajime an equally befuddled expression. Hajime stares at Tooru, wondering what had overcome him. Tooru must notice the gazes, because his face turns slightly red and he gives the rest an awkward, shy smile.

“I really like poppies,” he explains.

The servant walking with him smiles. “Sensitive boys write good poetry,” she comments.

“I’m not sensitive!” Tooru disagrees. 

Hajime huffs some air out from his nose. “You cry all the time,” he points out.

“I do not!” Tooru insists.

“You cried last time when you were here because you saw a cockroach in your room,” Hajime reminds.

“He cries about them at home too,” Tobio adds.

“See?” Hajime says.

“Cockroaches are icky!” Tooru says. “And I don’t cry, I just… inform the servants about them!”

“By crying,” Tobio says. Tooru whines while Hajime laughs. Huffing in defeat, Tooru seems to give up on convincing the rest that he isn’t as sensitive as they think. He begins marching towards the main building with determined and long steps. 

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Let’s just go eat fruit.”

“Crybaby,” Hajime mumbles under his breath before following his friend.

Tobio hears the comment and giggles a little. Tooru huffs again, but Hajime gives the younger boy a mischievous grin. With a few hurried and eager steps, the youngest boy walks up to be close to Hajime, looking up at him in admiration. Hajime likes the feeling of Tobio admiring him and mumbles a few other mean comments about Tooru to hear Tobio laugh again. Tooru, of course, knows what is happening and keeps huffing and puffing in annoyance.

Eventually they settle to eat fruits on the engawa. The watermelon is juicy and refreshing. All three boys are satisfied, eating piece after piece as the servants watch over them. The small tension from before passes, and before they know any better, Tooru begins retelling some stories he’s read on the way to the Iwaizumi residence. He reads a lot and is good at memorizing what he’s read. Hajime isn’t as patient with reading and writing, so he loves hearing about the stories without having to read them. Tobio is the same, struggling with the complex characters. 

When the watermelon has been eaten and Tooru has finished his stories, Hajime and Tobio begin discussing kyuudou. After a while, Hajime notices that his best friend is barely engaging with him. Once he pays attention to Tooru, he finds him giving the poppies that absent-minded stare again. 

They really are red, Hajime thinks as he follows Tooru’s gaze.

 

❀

 

A vibrant blue stretches across the sky above them. Empty of any clouds, the sky slowly seeps into a green hue towards the horizon. The cicadas are screeching in the forest surrounding the estate, swallowing the shy sound of the slow wind that occasionally flies through the leaves of the lush trees. Every now and again, the soft, melodic sound of chimes can be heard despite the deafening cries of the cicadas.

Tooru is twenty years old. Having presented as an omega at only fifteen, Tooru knows, very well, what his future duties are. He will be the lord of the house for whichever alpha chooses to marry him. And although he had, at first, dreaded his upcoming duties as a married omega, he now finds himself looking forward to married life.

The reason for this is quite simple — Tooru will marry the love of his life.

Before Tooru had even known if he’d be omega, beta, or alpha, his parents had already made a deal with the Iwaizumi family. The firstborn of the Iwaizumi family would be to marry one of the Oikawa siblings, as the Iwaizumi family was a long line of alphas, whereas the Oikawa family was predominantly omegan. Tooru’s older sister, Furi, is already married, significantly older than her two younger brothers. She moved to her husband’s residence years ago and has a young son named Takeru, whom Tooru meets a few times a year. 

With only Tooru and Tobio remaining as options, Tooru feels that the choice is evident; Tooru and Hajime, the first and only heir of the Iwaizumi family, have always had a particularly close bond. Although Tobio, Tooru’s younger adoptive brother, is an omega as well, Tooru feels confident that Hajime will not choose to propose to him. It would be strange. Furthermore, Tobio is technically not an Oikawa, but a Kageyama — he had been adopted into the Oikawa family after a tragic fire took the lives of the rest of his family. Thus, Tooru thinks it’s only natural that Hajime would choose him and not Tobio.

Tooru hasn’t met Hajime in a while. As the three of them had gotten older, there had been less visits between the Iwaizumi and Oikawa families. Overtaken by their respective duties, the three young men had only met twice a year. However, they had naturally exchanged various letters, and these letters, often personal and raw, have convinced Tooru of his undeniable bond to Hajime. Surely, an alpha not planning to marry him wouldn’t write to him so intimately. Hajime has entrusted his biggest secrets with Tooru throughout the years. 

Now, Hajime has traveled to the Oikawa estate. Having arrived last night, he is likely still tired from a full day of traveling. Today, Hajime has spent his day with Tooru’s father, discussing important decisions regarding the future of their lands. But now, he is freed from his duties until dinner.

Tooru softly slides open the shoji door and leans outside to spy on his future mate. Just as he had suspected, Hajime is sitting on the engawa, likely seeking relief in the soft breeze that occasionally dances by. The cicadas are screaming in the distance, and the heat is almost sweltering. Hajime’s posture is strong, his shoulders having broadened in the past few years. Partially hiding behind the shoji screen, Tooru studies his friend’s rugged hair and the way his well-shaped shoulders sink as he sighs. A small whiff of Hajime’s scent lingers in the air. Tooru feels weak as he smells it. Hajime is an unfairly attractive, kind and considerate alpha. How could the omega inside Tooru ever resist falling for him?

His heart tightening with adoration and love, Tooru admires Hajime. Hajime is completely unaware of the unwavering dedication from Tooru. Delusional and determined, Tooru convinces himself that Hajime is just as in love with him. Fueled by this delusion, Tooru decides to step outside and approach Hajime. At this age, this informal meeting is somewhat scandalous, especially considering their statuses. But at the same time, Tooru is so certain that they’re already fated to be that this secret meeting of theirs won’t bring them any trouble.

As if spiritually connected, Hajime immediately senses Tooru and turns around, his thick brows arched in an open, curious way. His face, which recently has been troubled with large, unresolved decisions looming over him, softens with affection.

“It is warm,” Hajime says, completely unbothered by this clandestine meeting. 

“It is,” Tooru agrees and sits down next to Hajime, carefully tucking his legs beneath him to avoid wrinkling his pale blue yukata. Hajime turns back to look at the view before them. Tooru follows his lead, well aware of how improper it would be to gawk.

They sit in silence for a moment, another breeze whispering by. The wind chimes clink melodically in their dance and the cicadas keep screaming in the distance. The poppies planted below the engawa are in full bloom, swaying with the wind. Tooru sighs softly at the sight, the sound and the soothing wind temporarily relieving the sweltering heat. Hajime, on the other hand, scratches the back of his neck, just at the spot where his thick hair ends, where a few beads of sweat roll down. Tooru wonders what Hajime’s neck smells like up close, if he were to press his lips against Hajime and sink his teeth into the alpha. 

“Tomorrow,” Tooru says carefully. 

They both know what he means. Hajime has traveled to the Oikawa estate for one simple reason — to finally choose either Tooru or Tobio. The choice is to be made tomorrow. Both Tooru’s and Hajime’s parents will be present during the engagement ceremony where the final decision will take place. However, Tooru feels there won’t be much of a surprise — he feels the decision has already been made.

“Yes,” Hajime eventually replies. 

“Are you nervous?” Tooru asks immediately. He notices how stiff his friend is and wonders why. Is it not obvious that Tooru will be overjoyed?

Again, a wind swishes by, and the chimes tinkle softly. Somewhere far away, gardeners are working, their soft voices barely audible among the loud shrieks of the cicadas. Finally, Hajime shifts, placing his hands on his knees and rubbing them slowly.

“Of course I am,” he finally says, voice gruff. He refuses to look at Tooru, keeping his gaze on the poppies before them.

Tooru’s heart aches in affection. Hajime is so endearing when he is uncertain, his tanned face scrunched up with worry, his large body somehow small with insecurity. Seeing an alpha so vulnerable is rare; Tooru has never seen his father express any form of doubt. Yet, despite the pressure for alphas to always stay determined and strong, Hajime gifts Tooru with these moments of vulnerability. The omega inside him, often fiery and strong, softens in these moments, aching to take his dear Hajime into his arms and whisper soothing words to him until he grins freely and boyishly again.

That would, however, be beyond inappropriate. So, Tooru settles for barely shifting closer, almost unnoticeably leaning towards Hajime. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Tooru assures with a soft smile. Hajime’s gaze is still fixed on the red flowers, refusing to meet his best friend's warm gaze. Tooru gives Hajime a teasing chuckle. “What? You’re too nervous to even look at me now?”

This finally makes Hajime turn towards him. His bushy eyebrows have come together into an irritated scowl. “No,” he denies.

“Really? You were avoiding my gaze before,” Tooru’s grin widens mischievously. Hajime only grunts in response so Tooru decides to continue pressing; “Are you nervous about your height? Oh, poor little Iwa-chan. You do know that no one will care if the omega you marry is taller than you, right? It’s not that uncommon.”

This time, Hajime groans more loudly, clearly provoked. 

“I’m sure you can wear thick soles during the ceremony,” Tooru adds with fake empathy.

Finally, Hajime cracks into warm chuckles. “You’re impossible,” he says. “And so incredibly rude.”

“I would prefer being called playful,” Tooru hums. 

“You’re mean and cunning,” Hajime corrects.

“Funny and strategic,” Tooru insists.

“Whatever,” Hajime exhales deeply, a smile finally resting on his lips. 

Another silence stretches between them. The sky above them has ever so slightly deepened in color. The soft breezes blowing by dance through the engawa and the flower beds. The chimes sing once more, their melodic clinking soothing both Tooru and Hajime.

“They’re in full bloom,” Hajime suddenly remarks, nodding towards the vibrant poppies. 

Tooru directs his gaze from Hajime to his favorite flower. He smiles as he watches them sway. Somehow, their vivid red color has always captivated Tooru. Part of it might be that this is his favorite time a year — just before the rain period and just after the cherry blossoms. Something about this in betweenness has always allured him. Furthermore, this liminal period has always been full of time with Hajime. As children, this time a year had always been when the Oikawas had visited the Iwaizumis, or vice versa. Thus, Tooru has many fond memories of chasing Hajime around a koi pond with bright red poppies dancing around them. 

Tooru realizes he has yet to answer his friend and chuckles sheepishly. 

“Yes,” he finally murmurs.

There is another pause, a hesitance of something invisible. Hajime shifts again. 

“You have always been fond of them, haven’t you?” he asks.

Tooru’s heart makes a leap. Typical Hajime, noticing such silly details about Tooru. Yet, it is also another sign of their destiny. Tooru can’t wait for tomorrow. Then, finally, he will be officially engaged to his love.

“I have,” Tooru says, almost shy all of a sudden. 

Tooru wants to say something more, perhaps about how excited he is, and how Hajime truly has nothing to worry about, despite Tooru’s childish teasing, because Tooru loves him so much that he is willing to give up every inch of himself to just see Hajime smile. But then, before he has any chance to spill out his delusions, the shoji screen hisses, clearly slid open by someone less careful than Tooru.

Both Tooru and Hajime turn around and spot Tobio standing by the door. His blue eyes shine at them curiously, earnest and confused. He is beautiful, Tooru has to admit that much, with his black silky hair, and his large, round eyes. The yukata he is wearing hugs him elegantly, clearly showcasing how Tobio has matured in the last few years. 

“Ah, mother was asking for you,” Tobio tells Tooru.

“Right,” Tooru says and carefully stands up, making sure his yukata remains in place. 

As Tooru stands, he sees something utterly terrible, something he never would have wished to see; he sees the gaze Hajime gives his younger brother. It is a gaze of something unnamed yet obvious, something painful yet beautiful, something heart-shattering yet loving. Tooru has never seen his best friend so soft, so lost, so enchanted. Tobio, unable to read atmospheres, is blissfully unaware, and looks at his older brother with those sincere, beautiful blue eyes that Tooru suddenly hates. 

“Tobio,” Hajime says carefully, further fuelling something incredibly ugly inside of Tooru.

I must be misunderstanding. It is simply brotherly affection, Tooru convinces himself desperately. Yet, the insecurity has been planted.

“Yes?” Tobio asks, as clueless as ever.

This time, the silence that lands over them is swollen with many unsaid words — words of love, words of anger, words of confusion. Yet, the chimes silence any of these words, and all three of them remain awkwardly silent. Tobio tilts his head to the side, puzzled by Hajime’s hesitant appearance. The alpha is still seated, looking up at Tobio with a gaze that Tooru can’t accept. 

“Never mind,” Hajime deflates. “It was nothing.”

Tooru knows that it wasn’t nothing. But the voice inside his head denying everything is louder, agreeing with what Hajime is saying. 

“Alright,” Tobio says slowly, clearly perplexed. But then he just nods at Tooru, signaling to him that they really need to leave now.

“I should be going, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says. “Don’t stay out too long, you’ll get dehydrated.”

“I won’t,” Hajime promises. 

Tobio walks back in, disappearing behind the shoji screen first. Just as Tooru is about to do the same, Hajime speaks again; “Tooru?”

Tooru stops, and the ache in his heart goes from painful to hopeful. “Yes?” he asks.

“Thank you,” Hajime says. “I’m not nervous anymore.”

His voice is warm and earnest, and he is looking up at Tooru with a different gaze. Perhaps the other one had been full of affection, but this one is sincere. This one can be trusted. This one is a gateway into Hajime’s true self. And Tooru is the only person in the world who gets to see it.

“Of course.” Tooru smiles. 

As intense as the moment of pain had been before, it had been brief, and Tooru is once again convinced of his future. Hajime will choose him. It is as clear as the beautiful, bright red of the poppies swaying behind Hajime. Then, Tobio calls for Tooru from inside the estate, and Tooru finally steps in and slides the shoji door behind him. The last image engraved in his memory is of Hajime turning back to admire the poppies, to admire Tooru’s favorite flower.

 

❀

 

Oikawa Hideyoshi sits proudly in his seat in the official room, the jo-dan. His wife, his two sons and the chief minister, Irihata Nobiteru, sit in the corridors surrounding the room. Irihata has been invited to mediate the engagement ceremony. The arrangement between the Oikawa and Iwaizumi households has already been formalized with a letter to the shogunate, and they have been granted permission to complete their plans to unite the two clans through this marriage. 

Across Hideyoshi, in the ge-dan, sits Hajime, kneeling properly on the tatami, bowing humbly in front of the daimyo. Hajime’s parents, esteemed fudai daimyo, close military allies of the shogunate, sit in the other corridor, overseeing this exchange closely.

“You have made your choice,” Hideyoshi says, looking at Hajime with a serious, steady gaze. Hideyoshi is a large, powerful alpha and a wealthy daimyo. Despite being the first alpha in the Oikawa line in generations, Hideyoshi depends on this marriage, as all three of his children are omegas and therefore legally unable to rule the lands they own.  

“Yes, my lord,” Hajime replies humbly. He is wearing his finest hakama and kosode. Tooru admires him from his seat in the irikawa, his entire being aching with the desire to finally be wed to him. Tooru himself is wearing a juni-hiteo, as is Tobio. Both of them have naturally prepared for this engagement ceremony. 

But Tooru notices that his younger brother isn’t stiff with excitement. In fact, he seems stiff of some sort of strange mixture of boredom and nervousness, as if he was dreading this entire thing. Tooru wonders why, as he presumes it’s obvious for everyone that Hajime will choose him and not Tobio. Unless Tobio is nervous about not being chosen? Does he feel worried about being the last unmarried omega of the Oikawa household? 

“Very well. Which of my two sons will you marry?” Hideyoshi asks.

Hajime bows all the way down, pressing his palms and forehead against the tatami. A formal, tension-ridden silence stretches over the room. Tooru’s heart is beating so loudly that he fears he’ll start to tremble or go into heat. He’s never explicitly told Hajime how he feels, but he knows how obvious his affection has been by the way the servants have teased him whenever Hajime has come to visit. As soon as the two are engaged, Tooru will finally be able to tell Hajime everything without having to be elusive and indirect. 

But then, his world shatters.

“I humbly ask to marry your youngest, Tobio,” Hajime states.

For a moment, everything freezes. Tooru is stiff with shock and disorientation. He feels cold and nauseous, something incomprehensibly terrible seeping through his spine, causing his skin to prickle with discomfort. He has stopped breathing, his mind desperate to come up with reasons or excuses. First he tries convincing himself he misheard. Hajime must have meant “your youngest” as in “your youngest by blood”, and must have said “Tooru” and not “Tobio”. But then, Hideyoshi speaks;

“I accept. Your marriage with Tobio, my youngest, will be fruitful for both of our families.”

Tobio. Again. 

This time Tooru’s mind is unable to delude itself any further. Yet, he is too shocked to visibly shatter. Instead, he sits perfectly still, slowly feeling the color drain from his face. As Tobio shuffles next to him again, he almost flinches in fear. This must be some sort of nightmare. Tooru’s scalp is burning, and his heart is hammering with undeniable anxiety. His mother gives him a soft look and Tooru realizes that his scent must be betraying him. Desperately, he does what he can to conceal his intense heartbreak and the nausea pooling in his stomach. 

Tobio bows gracefully. Tooru has never wanted to hurt his little brother more. He wants him to disappear, wants him to burn like his family, wants him to be stupid enough to reject Hajime’s formal proposal in front of everyone. Yet, at the same time, Tooru wants none of those things, and guilt and shame creep up his spine alongside the devastatingly tight pain wrapped around his heart and ribs. The feelings are overwhelming, and Tooru is light-headed at the mixture of wanting to hurt his younger brother and the regret of wanting something so horrible.

“I am honored to become your husband, Iwaizumi-sama,” Tobio’s voice rips Tooru back to reality. He watches as his younger brother bows towards his promised one, graceful yet slightly stiff with awkwardness.

Still spiraling, Tooru feels Hajime’s gaze flickering between him and Tobio. However, Tooru can’t face his best friend and love. Instead, he looks at Tobio’s shoulder, pretending to be happy for his younger brother. He concentrates on the intricate pattern on his kosode, studying how the silk has been woven into beautiful, red poppies against a dark blue hue. Tooru wants to vomit.

“I will take care of you,” Hajime promises, now bowing towards Tobio. Then, Hajime swiftly turns back to Hideyoshi and bows again. “I will take care of your son.”

“I entrust him to you,” Hideyoshi says.

With that, Tobio and Hajime are engaged. And Tooru is so broken that he wonders if he’s breathing right.

 

❀

 

Later that night, when the cicadas finally have stilled and the sky has been wrapped in a blanket of velvety darkness, Tooru lays on top of his futon and cries. He had told himself he wouldn’t cry until Hajime leaves with his parents the next day. But how could he not? His heartache is so intense that his entire body is cramping with agony. He shudders with a hollow sadness, feeling betrayed in a way he’d never thought possible.

He recalls the moment so clearly. How Hajime had bowed. How handsome he had been. How certain Tooru had been. How delusional Tooru had been. But the second the words were out of Hajime’s mouth, everything had become a blur. Now, the words and voices are distorted in his memory. The images are unclear and foggy. His head spins as he recalls how Tobio had bowed, endearing, sincere and beautiful like always.

Beautiful in ways Tooru isn’t, since Tooru hadn’t been good enough for Hajime.

His chest twists in a deeper, darker pain as he thinks that. His mind is clouded with insecurities that make him blind to hope. He hates the world and everyone inhabiting it. And he especially hates himself and how many years he had spent deluding himself, making himself believe in a fantasy that had never belonged to him in the first place. 

The celebratory dinner had gone by in a confused whirlwind. Tooru had spent every last bit of energy he had left to smile and act happy for the newly engaged couple. He had fondly teased Hajime for his lovestruck gazes at Tobio and had nudged Tobio, maybe a little bit too hard, when Tobio had acted shy and evaded Hajime’s eyes. He had then curiously asked his father who he was going to marry, and Hideyoshi had simply responded that there were ongoing discussions with the Ushijima family, which, if possible, had made Tooru’s dread even more intense. 

Yet, with sheer willpower, he had kept himself together.

He had kept himself together when dinner had ended and he had witnessed how Hajime had lingered by Tobio with that gaze he had given before, the gaze he never had given Tooru. He had kept himself together when his mother had come by his chamber right after he had retired, giving him a soft hug and whispering words about how new love always blooms but old love must be allowed to wither first. He had kept himself together until the shoji door to his chamber closed and he’d been engulfed by a silence that was like a cold river instead of a peaceful embrace towards sleep.

What else could he have done but wept? He had collapsed on top of his futon and broken down, even if he’d tried to convince himself not to cry. Hajime will leave tomorrow, and the wedding is in two weeks. Tooru had planned to spend those two weeks crying to be able to smile properly at the wedding ceremony. But, his heart hadn’t been able to wait until morning. So, now he cries, staining his silk pillow with his wet, heavy tears. 

Rejection has never hurt as much before. But perhaps it’s never hurt like this before because this hadn’t really been a rejection. This had been something much more cruel. It had been love. Just not love for him. 

Hajime is a kind, considerate, warm person. Tooru wants him. His inner omega wants him. Yet, neither can have him. And both wail at the pain. Right now, Tooru wonders if this pain will ever heal. He can’t imagine that it will. How could he ever soothe the burning ache inside of him when he’ll receive letters from Tobio and Hajime, happily telling him about their new life at their shared estate? When they’ll have beautiful little children together, blue-eyed with untamed hair and more determination than an entire village? When Tooru will visit them together with his deplorable husband from the Ushijima family and feign happiness in order to avoid facing the truth of his never-ending sorrow?

As he paints himself these melancholic futures, he fails to hear the shoji door slide open. It is only when he feels a weight shift next to him, that he flinches in fear, his head shooting up from the pillow. It’s Tobio. Quickly, Tooru turns away and wipes his face, wanting to hide his shameful tears from his younger brother who, despite everything, is an innocent bystander in this situation. Fortunately, the room is dark, as Tooru had blown out his lamp earlier, pretending to sleep.

“Tooru,” Tobio speaks softly. He must be thinking that Tooru had been sleeping.

“What is it?” Tooru tries to sound nonchalant, but his voice is stuffy and raw. He hopes Tobio is naive enough to think that his voice is full from sleep.

Tobio pauses, seeming to hesitate. As the situation begins to settle over Tooru, he realizes how incredibly strange it is for Tobio to be here. They haven’t visited each other’s rooms like this in years — it had been a forbidden activity they had engaged in only when they had been young boys full of mischief. Why is Tobio here? Did he notice Tooru’s stiff expression and trembling hands during the dinner? Does he feel guilty? Tooru doesn’t want Tobio’s guilt. He doesn’t want Tobio around. He can’t stand his little brother right now.

“I must leave,” Tobio says vaguely.

For some reason, this provokes Tooru more than it should. Perhaps it’s the ambiguity, or the naivety, or the raw incomprehensibility of the sentence that sets Tooru off. “Leave? Well, feel free to leave. I didn’t ask you to visit my room.”

“No,” Tobio corrects. “I meant that I must leave our estate.”

“Yes, yes, I know how marriages work, Tobio-chan,” Tooru hisses bitterly, unable to help himself. 

“No, I meant — ”

“You’re not leaving until the day of the wedding ceremony, so you still have time for your sentimental goodbyes,” Tooru says, voice dripping with venom that doesn’t affect Tobio. It never has as Tobio doesn’t pick up on those sorts of things.

“I’m leaving tonight,” Tobio says, voice firmer this time.

This silences both Tooru’s mouth and the rage inside of him. Confusion overtakes the anger and Tooru furrows his eyebrows in the darkness. He considers lighting his lamp again but then decides against it, not wanting to alert anyone that he’s awake. Sometimes a servant comes to check on him, worried that he might need help, when most times, he’s just up reading poetry much too late for his own good.

“Tonight?” Tooru repeats in disbelief.

“Tonight,” Tobio repeats, voice just as firm as before.

Tooru can’t comprehend this. “What do you mean? Where will you go? Are you going with Iwa-chan already?”

“No,” Tooru can see his brother shaking his head, his blurry silhouette swaying. “I must leave him. I cannot marry him.”

Tooru gasps shakily, his body still trembling from crying so hard earlier. “What?”

“I cannot marry him, Tooru,” Tobio says again. 

“But why not? He’s… This marriage was arranged ages ago, and he chose you! He is a nice alpha, you know this, and he will be a gentle mate,” Tooru says, unsure why he’s suddenly defending an arrangement his heart had just opposed so vehemently.

“I don’t love him,” Tobio says simply.

“Love?” Tooru repeats, still as befuddled as before.

“Yes,” Tobio says. “I know I am naive and selfish. But I cannot marry someone I don’t love.”

Tooru is so stunned that he only makes half-baked syllables, his mouth moving and his throat making sounds, yet producing nothing coherent.

“I will run away before dawn,” Tobio continues, as if he hasn’t shocked his older brother into a state of incomprehensible stuttering. “Please, Tooru, please. Please marry him for me.”

“But I — ”

“Please,” Tobio begs. 

Tooru hesitates. This is what he wanted. To marry Hajime. But is it really? Does he really want to be the second choice in his own story? The scraps that Hajime has to settle for since the one he wanted ran away? Tooru’s heart hammers excitedly, clearly making the decision for Tooru’s brain. His aching, delusional, stupid heart thinks it’s better to take this than to take nothing at all. Perhaps, over time, when living with Hajime, Tooru could show him his love, making Hajime fall in love with him instead of Tobio. 

“Alright. I will,” Tooru promises. “But, Tobio-chan, where are you going? Father will… He will not be pleased, and you will… I have to know that you’ll be safe.”

“I have an alpha,” Tobio reveals. “His name is Hinata Shoyo. He lives in the mountains. He has his own estate, although small and humble. But I don’t care. I love him.”

“You have an alpha? When did this happen?” Tooru asks.

“I have met him during my visits to the mountain temples,” Tobio explains, as vague as ever. Tooru knows he isn’t doing it on purpose — Tobio simply forgets that matters that are obvious to him aren’t as obvious to others.

“And he takes good care of you?” Tooru asks seriously.

“Yes.”

“He is kind?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yes.”

Tooru sighs. Tobio is about to do the dumbest thing he’s ever heard of — give up his safety and his rank for a commoner while risking his father's rage and a possible execution for his lover. But, even in the dark, where Tooru only can see Tobio’s silhouette, he can still sense the raw devotion and determination oozing from him. There is no one, not even Tooru, who can change Tobio’s mind now. 

“Very well. I won’t tell anyone,” Tooru promises. “But I will try to visit you,” he warns.

“Of course,” Tobio understands.

An awkward silence ensues, neither brother says anything. Tooru, who until a few moments ago had suffered a seething hatred for his younger brother, is now filled with confusion, shock and fragile hope. Tobio, on the other hand, is frozen in sentimentality and the pain of goodbyes.

“I wished he had chosen you instead,” Tobio eventually says. Tooru now understands the strange nervousness that had overtaken his younger brother during the engagement ceremony before. He had been worried about being picked rather than not being picked. He had probably been hoping to never be picked by anyone and eventually be granted his happiness with his mysterious alpha.

Yet, his well-meaning sentence reinstills the previous rage into Tooru’s sensitive heart. It hurts that Tobio, clumsy, awkward Tobio, had been chosen over him. That Hajime, the man Tooru has spent years pining for, had desired Tobio more than him. And now, Tobio, as amiable and clueless as ever, acts as if the love he had been given, that Tooru so desperately had wished for, is nothing but a burden. How can he be so ungrateful?

“Well, at least you got chosen,” Tooru huffs.

Tobio hesitates.

“Were you crying before?” he suddenly asks.

“No,” Tooru denies.

“You sounded stuffy before.”

“Must you always be so infuriating!” Tooru snaps. “You come into my room at night, tell me something utterly incomprehensible, expect me to understand, and now rub salt into my wounds by telling me you wish you had never been chosen at all! Even if I am strong, I am still an omega. Of course my pride has been hurt at not being picked! How can you be so dumb that you can’t even understand that?!”

“I’m sorry,” Tobio apologizes in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to — ”

“I know you didn’t! You never mean anything! And then I always have to understand and be patient while you say things that hurt me,” Tooru rages on. “I have to sit and smile and endure while you are entitled to all the happiness in the world, stealing my future right before my eyes.”

“What are you talking about?” Tobio doesn’t seem to understand what Tooru is saying. That is fortunate, since Tooru regrets the words the moment he’s spoken them.

“Forget what I just said,” Tooru huffs, breathing deeply as he is overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions he’s never felt before. “I just… Can you try to understand how I feel for once?”

Tobio is quiet for a moment. Outside, a wind hollows by. The chimes on the other side of the shoji screen, on the engawa, clink quietly.

“I don’t understand how you feel,” Tobio confesses. “But I understand how I feel. And I feel that I will miss you very, very much. More than the moon misses the stars she dances with at night.”

With that, the nasty knot in Tooru’s chest loosens. Although it’s infuriating that Tobio never understands, that he always fails to read in between the lines or pick up subtle cues, Tooru knows that he loves his little brother. And although they had struggled to get along the first year Tobio had lived with the Oikawas, the two have grown to share an awkward yet strong bond.

“I will miss you too, Tobio-chan,” Tooru whispers and sits up properly to reach for his brother.

The two hold each other tightly, burying their faces into each other’s shoulders. Tooru feels Tobio shake slightly, nervous for his upcoming escape. Tooru rubs soothingly against the spot close to his scent glands in the comforting way that family does. Tobio’s hold on him tightens briefly. Then, they pull apart.

“Good luck, Tobio-chan,” Tooru says, more sincere than he’s been all night. “I wish you the best.”

“Thank you, Tooru,” Tobio says.

Those are the last words the two brothers exchange for a long time. The next moment Tobio is gone, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared. Tooru slowly sinks back into his futon and wonders if this entire day has just been one long bad dream. Before he can spiral into which lies he will tell his parents tomorrow morning, sleep finds him, exhaustion from his intense heartbreak lulling him into a dreamless slumber.

 

❀

 

A flock of herons fly over the sky at dawn. It is at the same time that a servant discovers Tobio’s room empty. Moments later, the lord and his lady are woken to read the letter from their youngest, detailing how he has left and how he cannot marry Iwaizumi Hajime. Enraged, Hideyoshi deploys a group of his toughest servants to go look for his runaway son in the pale morning light.

Tooru wakes up to the commotion outside his room. Restless footsteps, panicked, shrill voices, and scared whines. His body feels heavy and his mind empty. It takes him a moment to remember the day before — Hajime’s official engagement to Tobio, the dinner, and Tobio’s plans to run away and escape his fate. As he does, he shoots up from his bed and rushes to the corridor, still only in his yogi. 

“Tooru-sama!” a servant calls, panicked. “Have you seen your brother?”

Tooru almost feels compelled to tell the truth. This servant has taken care of him and Tobio since they were young and has always been close to both of them. Her worry is similar to that of a mother’s — genuine and raw and pained. But Tooru knows that he can’t betray Tobio’s trust. He owes his younger brother this after Tobio had been trusting enough to tell him the truth.

So, Tooru does what he does best.

He lies.

“Tobio-chan?” he asks, pretending as if he has no idea of what she’s talking about. “What is going on? I just heard a lot of noise and worried there’d be a fire or that someone would be sick.”

“Tobio-sama is missing!” the servant wails. “He left a note!”

“What?!” Tooru acts shocked. “Missing?!”

“Yes, he is gone! Daimyo-sama has men looking for him in the surrounding forests…but one of the horses is missing too! Oh, he might have gotten too far already,” the servant trembles, her eyes pooling with tears.

“Why did he leave?” Tooru pretends to be confused. “He just got engaged! He was so happy last night!”

“It seems that it was all an act!” she continues, her voice breaking. “He wrote that he cannot accept the engagement and that he must be free. He says he will be safe but how safe can a lone omega be? Oh, Tooru-sama, I worry for your brother, I do… How could he ever make it alone?”

Just as Tooru is about to soothe her and tell her that Tobio is stronger than he seems, his mother, Ayame, calls out to him. “Tooru!” she stands at the end of the corridor, bewildered. Her pale, beautiful face is twisted with clear fear. She hurries over, her steps uneven with undeniable panic.

“Mother,” Tooru says, shaking his head to match her level of disorientation. “What is happening? I was told that Tobio-chan ran away…but how could that be possible?”

“Oh, unfortunately, it seems to be true,” she sighs deeply, her voice trembling. Her eyes are also glassy, her forehead scrunched up with concerned wrinkles. “He is gone, Tooru. He left. And in his note he wrote that he won’t return.”

“But… But I don’t understand,” Tooru murmurs, staring at the wooden floor beneath their feet, pretending to be perplexed although he understands everything much too well. 

“Did he say anything to you? He admires you so much,” Ayame says, clearly hoping to find some sort of hint from Tooru. Unfortunately for her, Tooru is determined not to give her anything. So, he does what he had promised to do and shakes his head sadly.

“Nothing,” he lies. “He said nothing…”

“Oh, Tobio…” She covers her mouth and shuts her eyes. “Tobio, Tobio, Tobio…”

“I will help look for him,” Tooru promises, placing a soothing hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“No, it is much too dangerous,” she says. “Please, let your father and Hajime handle this.”

“But mother — ”

“Please, Tooru,” she says. “I know you are stubborn, but let the alphas handle this.”

Tooru pretends to be disappointed at being denied the right to go look for his missing little brother. In reality, he is relieved, as now he won’t directly be betraying what Tobio had asked of him. So, instead, he hugs his mother, exhaling deeply.

“He will be alright,” he says.

For now, he believes it to be true.

 

❀

 

The Iwaizumis didn't leave that day, although that had been the original plan. They didn’t leave the following day either. And not the day after. On the night of the third day since Tobio’s disappearance, Iwaizumi Katsuro, Hajime’s father, sits down with his only son. They have been looking tirelessly for nearly three days straight. Troops have been scouting the nearby territories day and night. But Tobio is nowhere to be found.

Hajime sits across from his father in the guest quarters, his shoulders hunched forwards and his chest aching with a dull anxiety that won’t leave, no matter what. The room is illuminated with two andon lamps, the world outside dark. It is a clear night, the summer sky twinkling with sleepy stars.

Hajime still loves Tobio. Of course he does. Tobio had stolen his heart suddenly, intensely so. It had happened in winter, when the Iwaizumis had come to spend New Year’s with the Oikawas, as is tradition due to their arrangement. Somehow, during that short visit, Tobio’s quiet and careful demeanor, his large blue eyes, and his soft, silky hair had captured Hajime in a way that he had never been captured before. He had been completely and utterly enchanted by the omega. He had noticed every little detail of Tobio — how he pouted his lips when he concentrated, how he hesitated before speaking, and how he blushed when he used the wrong words. 

Hajime had made up his mind back then, during his last day of the visit, that he would propose to Tobio. Before that, he had always thought himself to marry Tooru, as they are close friends and get along seamlessly. But Tooru has never made Hajime feel like Tobio had made him feel during winter. And Hajime had known that it would have been cruel to propose to Tooru when his heart belonged to Tobio — it would only have ended up hurting all three of them.

But now, Tobio is gone. He had disappeared in the quiet hours of night after their engagement ceremony, having left with a vague note that simply stated he couldn’t marry Hajime, a note that had apologized for humiliating Hajime with his escape and begged for his forgiveness. Hajime thought that everything had gone well; Tobio had agreed, had seemed shy yet eager, and had expressed his excitement for their upcoming wedding several times during the celebratory dinner.

Still in this moment, Hajime wonders if he had done something wrong. Had he displayed his excitement too greedily? Had his gazes read as hungry and predatory instead of earnest and admiring? Had he scared Tobio? Beautiful, awkward, careful Tobio. Hajime still longs for him. He still wishes they will get married. And at the same time, his heart burns with humiliation and rejection. Tobio’s letter has made it very clear to Hajime that Tobio doesn’t return his affections, and Hajime isn’t the type of alpha to force anyone.

Now, he sits face to face with his father. However, Hajime struggles to meet his gaze, and instead keeps his head lowered, clearly heartbroken and distraught. For the past three days, Hajime has done all he can. He has barely eaten or slept, having looked for Tobio alongside the servants and the samurai. He has barely spoken to his parents, to lord Oikawa, or to Tooru. 

But now, in this moment of solitude, comes bitter acceptance of reality. Tobio is gone. And Hajime has no way of knowing if Tobio is alive. He wishes that Tobio is safe and happy, even if he had dreaded his marriage with Hajime enough to give up his status in favor of his own freedom. Something painful flickers inside of Hajime’s chest as he thinks that. An ugly insecurity plants itself into him, making him doubt himself and wonder if he is somehow repulsive for making Tobio take such drastic measures to avoid marrying him.

“Hajime,” Katsuro begins. Like Hideyoshi, Katsuro is a strong and large alpha. The Iwaizumi family has a military background, so unlike Hideyoshi, Katsuro lacks the refined snobbiness that only comes with a long line of aristocracy and privilege. “It saddens me to see your spirit so broken.”

“I loved him, father,” Hajime says earnestly. “I… I still do.”

“I understand that,” Katsuro says. “But you must understand, my son, that this marriage never was about love.”

Hajime does understand that. But his heart does not. His heart, still hammering to the rhythm of Tobio’s name, refuses to accept that he now must marry someone else. He has understood, having overheard hushed whispers between his and Tobio’s parents, that even if Tobio was to be found, Hajime must now marry Tooru. Tobio is no longer considered a suitable or reliable spouse.

“I know,” Hajime mumbles.

“There will be a new engagement ceremony tomorrow. Tooru will accept your proposal,” Katsuro says.

Hajime inhales shakily, staring down at his lap. He knows that a marriage with Tooru will be easy. They’re best friends. They’ll be able to structure their lives in a way that makes both of them happy. Tooru won’t expect too much. He’ll agree to sleep in different quarters and keep the marriage at a convenient distance. Hajime can’t imagine that Tooru would want them to spend heats or ruts together considering that Tooru never has shown any deeper interest in Hajime. It will be an ideal, business-like marriage, just like it had meant to be from the start. Hajime is the one who had gone ahead and made everything unnecessarily complicated by being foolish enough to fall in love.

“I understand,” Hajime complies. “I will propose to Tooru tomorrow.”

“Good,” Katsuro says. He pauses for a moment before speaking again; “I understand that your heart is aching. But just like spring rivers begin flowing again after winter, your love will find a new pace over time. I am sure that Tooru will bring you happiness.”

“Yes, he will bring me stability and peace,” Hajime says and knows it to be true. He also knows that Tooru will bring him happiness, just not the sort of happiness that Hajime had hoped his marriage to have. Although he loves Tooru, he doesn’t love him like he loves Tobio. And he doubts he ever can love anyone else like he loves Tobio.

 

❀

Like only four days before, Oikawa Hideyoshi sits proudly in his seat in the official room, the jo-dan. His wife, his one remaining son and the chief minister, Irihata Nobiteru, sit in the corridor to the side of the room. Irihata has returned, frowning in confusion at the repetition of the same ceremony with nearly the exact same attendees. 

Just like before, Hajime sits across Hideyoshi in the ge-dan, kneeling on the tatami with a proper posture. Katsuro and Yoko, Hajime’s parents, sit on the other corridor across from Tooru, Ayame and Irihata. This time, Tooru hasn’t bothered wearing his finest juni-hiteo, instead settling for a slightly more casual fabric, although it still is formal enough to pass as acceptable. 

Tooru’s heart aches with a cold anxiety and strange hope as he watches his best friend. Hajime is wearing the exact same hakama and kosode as before, presumably not having brought any other than these for his stay at the Oikawa residence. 

Somehow, everything that has happened until now feels like it might have just been a strange nightmare. A part of Tooru believes that Tobio is absent due to other duties. A part of Tooru believes that this is the first time that Hajime performs the engagement ceremony in the Oikawa residence, the devastating memories in his head nothing but a dream. But another part, the part of him that is still very much fragile and sore, knows that this most certainly is not their only official gathering in the Oikawa residence as of late. This part remembers the dull ache during the celebratory dinner and the hours he had spent crying in his futon. This part remembers the raw, honest hug he had shared with his brother, whispering to him wishes of the best before he had disappeared into the darkness of night, leaving Tooru worried about whether he’d truly make it to his mysterious alpha or not.

Despite how scorned Tooru’s heart is, it still has the strength to beat in delusional hope. A small fraction of Tooru has convinced himself that he still has a chance, despite the disastrous days that just have taken place. This tiny, weak voice inside of him whispers at him that Hajime might still fall in love with him. The close proximity that their marriage would bless them with would give Tooru more than enough chances to allure Hajime with his scent and beauty, to convince him of his strategic and brilliant management skills, and to show him his dedication and affection through subtle yet meaningful gestures. All of this will surely, over time, show Hajime that Tooru is more than a best friend.

Like four days prior, Hajime bows down. This time, Hideyoshi doesn’t ask Hajime for who his choice is — there is only one son left to marry, after all. As soon as Hajime has pressed his palms and forehead against the tatami, his voice breaks into an awkward noise. He quickly coughs to cover it up. He is nervous, Tooru can tell that much. Why is he so nervous? There is absolutely no choice to be made. There are no risks this time. Unless he is nervous because his heart is still so captivated by Tobio that he dreads this marriage more than anything. Tooru’s heart twists painfully at the realization.

“I humbly ask to marry your son, Tooru,” he finally croaks out. 

Tooru sees Hajime tremble. Again, Tooru’s heart twists in pain. He hasn’t had the chance to speak to Hajime properly since Tobio’s disappearance. He hasn’t had the chance to comfort Hajime, to offer him a listening ear, or to even hear his view on the situation. And at the same time, Tooru is glad that he hasn’t had the chance for any of those things because he isn’t sure he has the strength to sit and listen to Hajime longing for his younger brother. Suddenly, despite how much he had been looking forward to this, he begins to dread the marriage. What if the first months of their marriage, a period which should be happy and exciting, will be full of Hajime’s regret and longing for Tobio? How will Tooru manage to hide his heartbreak from his own husband? 

“I accept,” Hideyoshi says. This time, he says nothing about how fruitful this marriage will be for their families, clearly more careful with his words.

Shakily, Tooru does as he must. He bows down to acknowledge the engagement but is unable to look at Hajime. “I am honored to become your husband, Iwaizumi-sama,” his voice is steady yet hollow.

Hajime turns to Tooru and bows as well. “I will take care of you,” he promises. And just like before, he turns back to Hideyoshi and bows towards him once more. “I will take care of your son.”

“I entrust him to you,” Hideyoshi says, but if possible, there is less warmth in his voice than last time. 

With that, the ceremony is concluded. This time, Hajime and Tooru are engaged. And outside, the first poppies begin shedding their petals.

 

❀

 

The second celebratory dinner is quiet. Last time, Irihata, Hideyoshi and Katsuro had drunk sake until both men had become red-faced and loud. This time, their consumption of alcohol is more controlled, and they exchange formal words on politics instead. Ayame and Yoko also keep the conversation formal and light, avoiding direct mentions of either the engagement or the marriage. Tooru feels awkward as he sits next to Hajime. Hajime is clearly so saddened by everything that he struggles to look at anyone. He barely speaks or eats. Tooru feels like he is forcing himself upon his best friend. Any trace of his previous excitement and hope is gone for now. 

Fortunately, the dinner is over rather soon. It passes without any questions to Tooru or Hajime. Although the decision is most likely the most tactful one, Tooru feels more like a prop than ever. He walks towards his chambers feeling like something that’s just being used to tend to a wound or to fill a hole — not something that anyone actually wanted. He’s like a meal people eat only when they’re hungry enough to eat anything to fill their bellies. 

Before he manages to reach his chamber, he is stopped by a subtle yet familiar voice. 

“Tooru.”

Slowly, Tooru turns around. In the dimly lit corridor between two shoji walls, he sees Hajime. Hajime, still in his hakama and kosode, looks as handsome as he always does. Yet a shadow of worry and sorrow paints his boyish, rugged appearance. Tooru wants to reach for the crease between his eyebrows and smooth it out with his thumb. He wants to whisper soothing promises to him and heal his heartache with his own kisses. But he knows, more than he ever has, that his love for Hajime isn’t reciprocated. Getting too close to Hajime now would only make him uncomfortable and ruin any meager chances of love that Tooru has left.

“I am sorry for…not being more excited,” Hajime begins, taking a careful step closer. They are still far apart but close enough for Tooru to smell just how upset Hajime is. His scent, usually carefree and pleasant, is bitter and sour with anguish. 

“I understand, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, forcing a cheery smile. “My little brother ensnared you and disappeared. That was kind of cruel of him, wasn’t it?”

Hajime chuckles. It’s a strained, melancholic chuckle. But it’s better than nothing.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I love you, Tooru. I do. But — ”

“Not in the same way you love him. I know,” Tooru says calmly although his ribs are on fire with jealousy and agony. 

“I knew you’d understand,” Hajime exhales softly. “You are my best friend, so our marriage will be peaceful and happy but…it isn’t the same as a marriage of love.”

“Yes,” Tooru agrees, the word bitter on his tongue.

“The fortunate thing is that neither of us loves the other,” Hajime continues. “It will be a stable and secure marriage.”

“It will,” Tooru lies. As much as he doesn’t want to propose this, he knows he must. He can tell, from how broken Hajime is, that it will take time before he is open to new love. This means that Tooru must give him plenty of space. And with the way he speaks about stability and safety, Tooru knows that keeping the marriage distant for now is the only way to salvage this situation. “So, I propose that we sleep in different quarters and spend our heats and ruts separately. And we attend to our lands more as equal lords than a married couple.”

Hajime practically melts in relief, his previously squared shoulders sinking in relaxation. His face, softer than before, looks warm in the faint lights of the flickering flames inside the lamps of the corridor. Tobio’s room is dark. It has been dark since he left.

“I think that sounds very wise,” Hajime agrees with a small smile. It is the first Tooru has seen since Tobio’s disappearance. 

“We will be a good team.” Tooru smiles back. “And we will make my father so jealous when our fields produce more rice than his.” His smile turns into a mischievous grin. He can never admit how much this act is killing him on the inside. How much it hurts him to pretend that he is fine, that his entire being isn’t aching with rejection, anxiety, and raw sorrow. All of the pain is worth it the moment he hears Hajime chuckle again.

“Such ambitious plans already,” he breathes in amusement, his eyes glistening in the warm light. 

For a moment, Tooru sees their future. It’s a future where Hajime has gotten over his heartbreak, where he has finally noticed Tooru’s unwavering dedication and love for him, where they live happily like a real couple, laying down next to each other in the same futon like true lovers each night. With time and patience, Tooru believes he can make it happen. Even if, right now, both of their lives are ridden with excruciating pain, he is determined. Tooru has always been foolishly stubborn and worryingly strong. He will make it through this even if it kills him.

“Oh and Iwa-chan,” Tooru adds, still grinning even if the act is killing him on the inside.

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry about the wedding ceremony. I can crouch down slightly so that you’ll look taller than me,” he smirks. 

Hajime pauses for a moment, arching his eyebrows incredulously. “You’re so annoying that it’s actually unbelievable that you’re getting married.”

Tooru laughs softly. “You were the one who was foolish enough to propose to me today,” he reminds Hajime.

“As if I had a choice,” Hajime snorts. The remark hurts more than it should, and Tooru nearly flinches. But he manages to control his urge and instead wills his expression to remain mischievous and carefree. 

“Either way, you’re stuck with this annoying omega now, so you better get used to me,” he taunts.

“Tragically, I am already way too used to you and your antics,” Hajime deadpans.

“And now you will only be blessed with more,” Tooru insists with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

Hajime half-snorts, half-chuckles and rolls his eyes in response.

A hesitant silence takes place. Tooru feels his grin fade slowly. Hajime, on the other hand, looks at the shoji screen next to them instead of meeting Tooru’s gaze. Tooru knows that there are way too many unspoken words between them. At the same time, he knows that it is much too soon to speak most of them. It is evident from the way Hajime’s eyes get clouded with that familiar darkness again.

Then, with slow determination, Hajime takes a step forwards and places his hand on Tooru’s shoulder. He looks him in the eyes with a raw, honest gaze that tells Tooru more than he would have liked to be told right now. Yet, Tooru can’t tear his eyes away.

“Thank you, Tooru. For being such a good friend,” Hajime says. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tooru’s delusional, pathetic heart beats faster, and his pale cheeks warm with blooming affection. He is lucky that it’s dim enough for Hajime not to see how he blushes. Tooru tries to calm himself by reminding his heart and his hot cheeks that Hajime is uttering these words like a friend. However, he also is fully aware that he is the only person Hajime is this honest with. Even if Hajime had loved Tobio before — and probably still does — he had never been this vulnerable with him. 

Tooru knows that he is special to Hajime. With time, he can turn this to his favor.

“Of course.” Tooru nods. 

Hajime squeezes his shoulder once more before lowering his hand. “Well…I should be going to sleep,” he says carefully. “I will see you at our wedding ceremony.”

“Sleep well, Iwa-chan,” Tooru replies.

With that, Hajime retreats back to his room. The following morning, the Iwaizumis depart back to their own residence to begin preparing for the wedding ceremony. Tooru bids them goodbye together with his parents, formal and stiff. Beneath his polite shell, he is both breaking and hoping.

 

❀

 

For the next two weeks, the summer heat gets worse and the poppies slowly yet inevitably continue scattering their brilliant red petals. Gradually, the first signs of the rain season roll in, with a thicker humidity settling all over Edo. The heat still remains, making the humidity unbearable, sticking to every surface it finds.

The morning Tooru is processed to the Iwaizumi residence, he climbs into the wedding norimono previously commissioned for the occasion. It is carved out of wood and lacquered with gold. The padded seat is meticulously embroidered with intricate details. Tooru gazes through the slatted windows covered with silk, only able to discern vague shadows from the outside. It is muggy, but the shade of the palanquin brings him relief. Three alphas at both front and back lift him from the ground, holding the large beam steadily. Behind them, a long retinue bearing Tooru’s dowry of furniture, clothing, and heirlooms, follow them, his most important belongings secured in lacquered chests decorated to match his exquisite palanquin.

This is an important ritual, signaling the wealth and status of both the Oikawa and Iwaizumi families. Tooru’s procession is public, the cortege of people carrying both him and his possessions clearly displaying his status to the commoners. Tooru’s parents travel separately. 

The trip to the Iwaizumi residence is long, as it resides on the other side of Edo. Later, when the wedding ceremony has been completed, both Hajime and Tooru will move from the kamiyashiki of the Iwaizumis to manage the fiefs that the Oikawa family owns in the Date region. Tooru’s older sister had moved into her husband’s estate in a whole other region, leaving the Oikawa family's fiefs unmanaged in the time being. Fortunately, Hideyoshi has moved in between his fiefs and Edo to manage his responsibilities. But due to his old age, the travels are becoming hard on him, and it has become inevitable for the younger generation to take over. Tooru’s and Hajime’s establishment in Edo will be the Oikawa family’s nakayashiki for when they return to the capital to conduct political work with the shogunate.

Tooru sits in silence in his palanquin. Clammy moisture sticks to his pale skin. His kimono, thick and heavy, feels too warm for the weather. Soft raindrops begin falling from the sky, smattering against the lacquered wood panels above him. The rhythmic drumming of the rain eventually lulls Tooru into sleep despite his tense nerves and uncomfortable sweating. He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, a single, tired sigh escaping his lips.

The last two weeks, which had passed in a whirlwind of tension-ridden anxiety and brittle hope, Tooru had been busy preparing for his move and for his wedding ceremony. He had been measured and had tried on his wedding robes countless times. He had practiced the ceremony daily. And when he had had time, he had written kyouka poetry about how the poppies are shedding their petals, much like his heart is slowly shedding the delusions of mutual love. Yet, at night, when he is alone with his thoughts, he has seeds of hope growing inside his chest, still determined to change his destiny. Hajime will get over his heartbreak one day, and when he does, he’ll be ready to love again, and Tooru will be there to receive his love this time, wholly and greedily. 

As Tooru sleeps, he dreams about this very future. He dreams about a day, perhaps when poppies are blooming again, when Hajime looks at him, truly looks at him, and sees him for all he is. He feels Hajime’s warmth as if they were sitting next to each other. He feels Hajime’s body pressing against him, Hajime’s lips upon his own, and Hajime’s untamed hair between his fingers, the hair strands a mixture of roughness and softness. 

When Tooru wakes, to a soft bounce of the palanquin, he sees that the world around him has gone dark. He is hungry and thirsty. He immediately reaches for the package of food he has with him, and slowly bites into a large onigiri to stave his hunger. Next, he drinks, almost desperately, from the ceramic bottle containing water. 

After taking his fill, he feels more sprightly and tries to find anything familiar outside. There is faint light from surrounding lanterns. They could be anywhere in Edo, but based on how long they have traveled, Tooru presumes that they must be close now. He wonders if Hajime is waiting for him. Is he nervous or excited? Or is his heart still completely occupied by worry and sorrow for Tobio?

Helplessly, Tooru thinks about his younger brother. As much as Tobio always enraged him, with his large blue eyes and his sincere yet misplaced questions, Tooru loves him. He has not received a single letter from Tobio yet and worries whether he truly made it to his secret lover or not. He knows that Tobio is strong and resilient, but he also knows that Tobio has never traveled without company before. Does he really know how to tame a horse scared in unfamiliar darkness? Does he know how to navigate through unknown terrain? And most of all, is this commoner, Hinata, truly a trustworthy person? What if he is a dishonest man, only looking to possess the naive and aloof Tobio?

Tooru’s heart aches. This is a different ache from the one he feels when he recalls the first engagement ceremony and the devastating disappointment of realizing just how one-sided his love for Hajime has always been. This ache isn’t burning or scathing — it’s dull and heavy. It has settled into Tooru’s heart like a faint worry that simply won’t leave. Although Tooru might otherwise be perfectly calm, he sometimes startles with the memory of the night of Tobio’s disappearance, his knees buckling under the weight of all the lies he’s told since that moment.

But he must endure. Tooru has always been good at enduring. So, like he endures the fact that Hajime hadn’t chosen him first, he endures the reality that his younger brother has disappeared. Tooru has always been a man of contrasts — and his biggest contrast is that of strength and fragility. As strongly as he feels, as sensitive as he is, he also carries the capacity for immense endurance. 

Eventually, the air shifts. There is no specific change, but something unnamed. For no specific reason, Tooru can tell that they are close now. And sure enough, a few moments later, the alphas carrying the palanquin, undoubtedly exhausted after their intense journey, stop. Slowly, the norimono is lowered to the ground.

With uncharacteristic hesitation, Tooru reaches for the sliding door. He is unsure if he can face Hajime and see the hollow sadness in his eyes, considering Tooru wants to see excitement and love painted over Hajime’s tanned face. Then, despite how nervous and anxious he is, Tooru slides the door open. 

As he steps outside, his feet finally touching ground after hours of traveling, he notices that Hajime hasn’t come to greet him. Neither have Katsuro nor Yoko. Instead, it is a group of servants, all bowing ceremonially for the fated spouse. Disappointment blooms in his chest. Tooru has never felt more neglected in his life and can’t help but to wonder whether Tobio would have received a different welcome had he never run away. Presumably, this cold welcome is due to the humiliation that the Iwaizumi family endured thanks to Tobio’s unacceptable trick. It is unfair — Tooru has done nothing wrong.

“Welcome, Tooru-sama,” a servant from the higher rank bows deeply before him. “The lord and lady have already retired for the night. We will help you settle into your rooms. The Iwaizumi family have excitedly awaited your arrival and look forward to the wedding ceremony tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Tooru says gracefully, although he is certain that nearly every word the servant just uttered is a blatant lie. 

After this, Tooru is shown into the familiar estate that he has visited countless of times throughout his life. The retinue of carriers holding the lacquered boxes containing his belongings dutifully follow. The boxes won’t be unpacked, however, as Hajime and Tooru will move shortly after the wedding ceremony. Only the box containing the ceremonial attire will be opened tonight.

The servant shows him through a familiar corridor of shoji screens. As expected, she shows him to the last room in the back of the corridor. It is the same room where Tooru has spent his nights during his visits at the Iwaizumi estate, before he had become the official betrothed to the only heir of the Iwaizumi family. Somehow, despite this being the same room that Tooru already knows very well, it feels different. He knows that the one who has changed isn’t the room but Tooru himself.

His own servants, who had traveled with him all the way to the Iwaizumi residence, bring his belongings to the surrounding rooms for now, not disturbing Tooru. Tooru thanks the servant for her kindness before sliding the shoji door shut. The single andon lamp in his room was already lit for him. A comfortable-looking futon has been laid out on the tatami floor. There are soft steps and quiet voices on the outside of his room, the servants doing their best not to disturb the betrothed.

Overtaken by exhaustion and disappointment at the lack of welcoming, Tooru undresses slowly. He is sticky from sweat but too tired to bathe tonight. He will have to bathe tomorrow anyway in preparation for the ceremony. Thus, he only changes into his yogi for the night. Then, with a heavy chest, he crawls into his futon, only pulling a thin sheet of silk over his body as the summer nights are much too warm for thicker blankets.

Sleep doesn’t find him that night. He thinks he might have himself to blame with how he had slept through almost the entire day. But somewhere deep inside he also blames Tobio and Hajime for hurting his heart this deeply. He wonders if he’ll ever sleep peacefully again.

 

❀

 

The morning of the wedding ceremony is heavy with rain. A relentless humidity rests over every surface of the estate. Herons climb over the wet miscanthus surrounding the estate, their long, white necks making their small heads peek over the greenery. The sun has yet to rise properly, and the sky is swallowed by blueish clouds.

Tooru is woken by Shigeru, his most trusted servant. Although constrained by the stiffness of their respective roles, the two omegas have become close over the past few years. Shigeru must be aware of Tooru’s love for Hajime, although he has never uttered a word about any of it.

“Tooru-sama,” Shigeru says softly. “Your bath is ready.”

Tooru sighs into the silken sheets, tired and sore from the travels and from the general ache of disappointment and weight of responsibility. He slowly sits up, sleepily blinking his eyes towards the shoji screen, which Shigeru stands behind. He can discern his blurry silhouette behind the white sheet. 

“A moment,” Tooru croaks out, voice heavy with sleep. It is so early that his room is still dim. With sluggish movements, he gets up. He does not bother to change out of his yogi, as he will only be surrounded by omega servants for now. With soft steps, he moves to the door and slides it open, facing Shigeru.

“Good morning, my lord,” Shigeru bows.

“Good morning,” Tooru replies but doesn’t move.

Shigeru hesitates, waiting for his master to react. But Tooru stares over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the shoji screen behind Shigeru, refusing to meet his gaze for now. Then, as if there had been no moment of hesitation at all, Tooru rolls his shoulders back and straightens his posture.

“Alright then, let’s get married,” he mumbles.

Shigeru exhales in amusement. “Let us get married?” he repeats.

Tooru gives his servant a weak grin. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course.” Shigeru nods. A quiet sorrow resides in his gaze despite his entertained expression. He must know how much this is hurting Tooru. But he also knows how much Tooru needs normalcy right now, so he refrains from showing his master any pity. 

Without any more words, the two make their way towards the private bathhouse of the Iwaizumi residence. Smoke slithers up towards the sky from the house, servants having warmed Tooru’s bath throughout the night. Shigeru and Tooru walk under the protective roofs of the engawa. During the short walk throughout the yards, Shigeru holds up a large parasol for the two of them to protect them from the rain.

The moment Tooru steps into the bathhouse, the wedding preparations begin. He is relieved to wash the sweat off of his body. After the bath and a light meal, he is wrapped into his wedding attire, a white shiromuku with a pure, white ushikake. The attire is also adorned with his family emblem. The dressing takes a long time, layers after layers wrapped around his lithe body. Shigeru hums softly as he watches, praising Tooru for how beautiful he looks in the kimono.

 His face is powdered and his lips are painted. Finally, the wataboushi is placed over his head. He feels like an overdressed doll. For years, he has waited for this moment. He has dreamed about marrying Hajime, about seeing Hajime’s eyes soften with affection as Tooru emerges in the beautiful, silken shiromuku. But with everything that has happened, Tooru doubts he’ll see Hajime admire him in the way he wants to be admired. Since all he cares about is Hajime’s attention, he only feels ridiculous in his outfit, convincing himself he’s overdressed for his own wedding ceremony.

Shigeru gives Tooru a reassuring smile, once again praising him for his beauty. The other servants agree, cooing over Tooru as they straighten invisible creases of the silk fabric. Tooru gives them a weak, shaky smile in return, trying to stay as hopeful as he had earlier. The moment is broken as a servant peeks into the bathhouse where the wedding preparations have taken place, calling for the young lord.

The rain outside has not relented. Tooru walks under a parasol, Shigeru steadily beside him. The shrine is not far away. He presumes the rest already must have walked there. He is careful not to stain his beautiful silk as he walks, and Shigeru is more dedicated than ever to keep his master dry. Tooru is too nervous to speak, so the two settle into an uncharacteristic yet fitting silence. The rain keeps smattering against the ground, washing away the red petals of the poppies surrounding the shrine.

As Tooru arrives, a soft mist curls across the beams and the smooth wooden floors. The garden and the withering poppies are soaked in a faint silver light. The scent of wet sand and forest lingers in the air. Shigeru walks Tooru to the water basins where Tooru washes his hands and mouth carefully, his wataboushi sliding down over his forehead ever so slightly. Temporarily sheltered by the roof of the purification area, Tooru sighs in relief. The parasol is wide, but this, undoubtedly, is safer.

Then, with stiff, slow steps, Tooru climbs up the stone stairs. As soon as he is sheltered by the roof, Shigeru bows and steps to the side, waiting outside. The wedding ceremony is only to be witnessed by the closest family members of the Iwaizumi and Oikawa clans, as well as a priest. The last gift Shigeru gives Tooru is a soft, understanding gaze that conveys more than enough. Tooru simply nods in reply.

Tooru’s shiromuku rustles faintly as he walks, the shiny silk ghostly white, radiant in contrast to the gray noon. The further into the shrine he walks, the dimmer it gets. The ceremonial hall is not lit by any lamps. Instead, it relies on the faint, pale light that seeps through the thick clouds and the few openings in the sturdy shrine walls.

A hush settles over the room the moment Tooru approaches. Tooru’s and Hajime’s parents are already there, sitting in their respective seats on the tatami. The priest waits at the altar, ceremonial and austere. Bamboo arrangements flank the altar, standing tall despite the heavy air. A delicate arrangement of one thousand golden origami cranes sits in a lacquered tray near the altar, folded in Tooru’s honor over the past weeks by the servants and omegas of the Oikawa household. One of the cranes, a bird of unwavering loyalty, stares back at Tooru with unblinking paper eyes.

Hajime sits by the altar. For a brief moment, their eyes meet, and Tooru’s breath is caught in his throat. He sees the rawness in Hajime’s eyes, the hollowness under them, and the downward curve of lips. This is not the expression of a man in love. It is the expression of a man in grief. Despite his heart-breaking expression, Tooru cannot help but admire how handsome Hajime looks in his deep black montsuki and his matching hakama. The Iwaizumi crests rests like a pale white moon against the dark, thick fabric. His posture is as strong as always, not betraying the undeniable ache thumping in his chest.

Unable to face his best friend like this, Tooru decides to keep his head slightly lowered to let his wataboushi shield his gaze. Quietly, with only faint rustles from his kimono, Tooru makes his way next to Hajime, and folds his legs beneath him as he gets seated. The two still avoid looking at each other. The mist crawls to the exterior of the shrine, the humidity undeniable as the rain keeps smattering against the roof above them. The moment feels like a bad dream — surrealistic and unsettling.

Without further ado, the priest lifts the harai-gushi, and with steady, sweeping movements, waves it over the couple. With this, the ceremony has finally begun. The delicate strips of white paper rustle, cutting through the heavy air, purifying the space and those within it. Tooru closes his eyes under the wataboushi, letting the ceremonial rhythm calm his thundering heart and nauseating anxiety. 

As the priest begins the sacred prayer, the norito, Torou carefully opens his eyes. But he only stares down at his pale fingers peeking out from his long sleeves under the silky fabric of his shiromuku. He can faintly see Hajime’s strong knees before him in peripheral vision. As much as he dreads all of this, he also, briefly, finds himself excited. He still loves Hajime. He probably always will. And perhaps, no matter how much this marriage will hurt him, it is better to hurt than to have nothing at all.

The priest asks the gods for happiness, peace, and the strength to withstand misfortune. The recital of blessings is slow and harmonic, somehow blending into the never-ending drumming of rain smattering down on the roof. Hajime subtly shifts before Tooru, making Tooru’s eyes jump up from the spot on the tatami they had been staring at. He sees Hajime staring at him. Something unsaid yet soothing lingers between them. They have always found comfort in each other, even if the source of the pain is from the other. Tooru wonders, briefly, if Hajime would hate him if he told the truth. Would Hajime resent Tooru for robbing him of the stability and peace he currently relies on?

Next is the san-san-kudo. Three lacquered cups are presented on a tray of gold and red. This is the moment Tooru has been dreaming about for years. Yet, when Hajime takes the first cup with steady hands, Tooru doesn’t feel the giddy excitement he always imagined he’d feel. Hajime lifts the second cup just as steadily. On the third, he finally sips. Tooru watches carefully, studying how Hajime keeps his face perfectly neutral despite the bitter taste of the sake. With a soft click, Hajime places the cup back, after which he repeats the ritual twice more until all three cups have been drunk from.

When it’s Tooru’s turn to complete his end of the ritual, his fingers are trembling. A part of him wants to stop the ceremony and run away just like Tobio had. Another part is still determined that time and patience will give him the future he desires. So, he wills his fingers into perfect stillness. When he finally drinks the sake, it is bitter and burning. But just like Hajime, Tooru maintains a perfect posture and a neutral, dignified expression. Tooru, too, drinks three times.

After this, the two spouses bow to each other. Tooru tries avoiding Hajime’s gaze again, but curiosity gets the best of him, and he ends up seeing an apologetic softness. Somehow, this gentleness hurts much more than the hollow grief over Tobio’s disappearance. Does Hajime worry that Tooru is making a sacrifice of some sort? Does he believe this because he feels that he is making a sacrifice?

Tooru tames his pain into numbness. He can cry later, when Hajime is busy tending to their shared estate and Tooru is alone in his own chamber. For now, he must remain elegant and graceful. Thus, he returns Hajime’s gaze with a similar softness, feigning mutual understanding although there couldn’t be a bigger misunderstanding. 

Finally, there is the tamukegushi, the offering of the sakaki branch. Both Hajime and Tooru stand to bow by the altar. Tooru approaches the altar first and places the sacred evergreen on the stand. After this, he bows deeply, a gesture of sincerity and submission to the gods. When Hajime does the same, Tooru watches him from the corner of his eye. His gestures are strong and steady. The dark fabric of the montsuki suits him well, complimenting the darkness of his rugged hair. Something painful pulls at Tooru’s heartstrings when he realizes just how much he longs to touch and hold Hajime.

With heavy rain still drumming against the roof, the priest claps twice, the sound echoing through the quiet room like distant thunder. Finally, the ritual is done. Tooru and Hajime are now husbands.

 

❀

 

The wedding reception takes place a few hours later at the Iwaizumi residence. By then, the rain has calmed down enough to only gently tap against the roofs, no longer harshly smattering against the ground or drenching the miscanthus. Fresh rivulets slither down the subtle hills in the forests surrounding the large estate. 

Tooru is separated from the rest to change into his irouchikake. It had been made months ago, Hideyoshi and Ayame having been determined to wed both of their sons by New Year. Tooru shudders slightly as he thinks of what would have happened if Tobio never had run away — Tooru would have become the betrothed to the heir of the Ushijima clan. He would have worn this beautiful robe at a reception he would have dreaded even more than this.

The beautiful crimson silk slides over his shoulders with ease. There are immaculate details woven in whites and golds, the embroidery depicting cranes and clouds, waterfalls and pine trees, all symbols of longevity and enduring love. His brown, unruly hair is partially pinned with golden combs, his face powdered anew. He repaints his lips as well. Shigeru, always at his side, bows in approval as he sees his master, and mumbles a soft compliment about how radiant Tooru is.

When Tooru enters the reception hall, taking place in the jo-dan of the Iwaizumi estate, the attendees raise and bow in acknowledgment. Now there are more attendees — extended family members, highly ranked members of the military, close friends of the shogunate, and daimyos associated with the Iwaizumi and Oikawa clans. Hideyoshi and Ayame smile at their son in approval, evidently proud of how he has handled everything thus far. 

Hajime is waiting for him at their table, still in his montsuki and hakama. He bows slightly as Tooru walks up to him, as if Tooru was a business associate rather than a lover. Despite how much it hurts him, Tooru returns the bow gracefully.

The reception begins with Hajime and Tooru lighting the candles at each table. This is done in silence, the attendees overlooking the ritual with calm, expectant eyes. Tooru is stiff but no longer shaking. The soft flames that flicker on the tables should make Tooru feel warm for what is supposed to be a long, successful marriage. Instead, when he notices how Hajime keeps a friendly distance from him, his eyes not burning with the same sort of enchantment that they had around Tobio, Tooru only feels cold, the hot summer rain becoming snow in his mind.

After this, the ceremonial food is served. The formal greetings are exchanged with sake being poured. Tooru and Hajime sit next to each other with straight postures and acknowledge the polite words with proper bows. 

Tooru feeds Hajime his first bite of the wedding food, acting his part as a supportive omega perfectly. Hajime leans in, just close enough for Tooru to get a subtle whiff of the alpha’s scent and for Tooru’s entire body to temporarily pulsate with intense need, taking a small bite from the pickled plum Tooru is offering. Then, although it isn’t required, Hajime returns the gesture, giving Tooru a sweet red bean paste bun. There is a soft understanding between them during this moment — they are still, first and foremost, best friends. 

Then, Tooru and Hajime both bow to their parents and present them with folded fans and handwritten letters of gratitude for arranging such a luxurious ceremony and reception for them. The exchange is stiff with formality, although Hajime’s mother’s eyes are slightly glassy as she reads her son’s words. Tooru’s parents are as proper and still as ever, their faces not betraying what emotions that are hiding behind their masks. Hideyoshi simply gives his son a stern nod of approval.

Once the meal begins properly, with everyone finally beginning to eat, Tooru realizes that he can barely taste his own food. He is, like he has been for the past weeks, still torn in half. And being torn in half like this, towards naive hope and devastating heartbreak, dulls all of your other senses, Tooru has come to learn. He sleeps, he eats, he breathes, but nothing feels real. Somehow, even if he can feel the heat from Hajime’s body next to him, even if he can hear the soft tapping of the rain against the roof and the hushed voices of the guests, he isn’t sure if any of this is real.

As the meal carries on, guests begin approaching the newlywed couple to gift them with envelopes wrapped in mizuhiki cords, knotted into cranes and blossoms. In turn, the guests are given small lacquered boxes with chopsticks and embroidered handkerchiefs. Tooru bows every time he and Hajime are given an envelope, acting his part correctly. He and Hajime have yet to exchange a single word outside of their polite act since Tooru’s arrival at the Iwaizumi residence. He wonders if they will have any chance to speak properly before their departure towards Date. 

As the sun lowers behind the clouds, painting the sky in an intense pink hue, Tooru excuses himself to get changed again. He re-emerges in a furisode. It is the last time he can wear the kimono of an unmarried omega, symbolizing his last moments of freedom before the consummation of the marriage during the wedding night. The reception has finally loosened into a less stiff atmosphere when he returns, and he finds his husband, his Hajime, seated with some of his distant cousins, drinking sake and speaking about their fiefs. For a moment, Tooru considers walking over and wrapping his arms around Hajime, leaning his head against Hajime’s shoulder like a loving spouse, and finally being as close to Hajime as he has always desired. 

But he knows that it would be unfair to do that to Hajime.

So, he instead walks to his own relatives, graceful and composed, and engages in polite yet distant smalltalk. Although it is evident in the way that everyone seems to hesitate around him, no one dares to mention Tobio. He is sure that his most curious cousin is aching to ask him about the runaway omega, as the official explanation Hideyoshi has given the public must have been vague and full of half-truths.

Separated both by space and misunderstandings, Tooru and Hajime spend the last hours of their reception apart. Outside, the poppies, Tooru’s poppies, have nearly shed all of their petals. The vibrant red that had previously lain on the ground beneath them is being washed away by the summer storm. 

 

❀

 

The relentless rain clouds pestering them the entire day roll away during sunset, and when the sun finally has sunk under the horizon, they are blessed with a beautiful, dark blue night sky and shy, twinkling stars. The crescent moon is pale, allowing the stars to shine stronger than usual in its near-absence. A fresh, soothing wind blows by, the air lighter than before.

Out of all of the rites associated with the wedding, this is the one that Tooru dreads the most — the consummation of the wedding. He sits on the tatami in his and Hajime’s shared chamber in the goten. He is wearing his finest yogi, white, thin cotton resting over his lithe yet strong frame. He listens to the wind blowing outside, making the chimes hanging on the engawa sing as it whispers by. The miscanthus rustles softly and pleasantly. 

Everything had gone perfectly. Tooru had played his part excellently. His mother and father had congratulated him one more time before he and Hajime had retired for the evening, a rare display of their oftentimes completely concealed affection and pride. Yet, Hajime had barely said anything. In fact, the first words he had uttered to Tooru in weeks had been that he was tired. After that, the two had left the reception in silence. They had separated by the engawa of the ceremonial hall, moving to their respective chambers to get washed up and changed for the evening. Then, Tooru was escorted to their shared chamber. And now, he has been sitting here for longer than he’d care to admit, quietly wondering if his husband will even join him. 

Of course he won’t come, a voice inside of Tooru whispers. We agreed to sleep in separate chambers and not to spend our heats and ruts together. He doesn’t mean to hurt me. He is grieving. And he must be thinking that I am just as hesitant as him, that I am awkward about spending the night with him .

But this voice, sound and calm, quickly turns venomous and bitter, whispering lies about how Hajime is avoiding their wedding night because he’s repulsed by Tooru. This voice tells him that although Hajime cares for him as a friend, finds him ugly and unattractive, and dreads being close to him. This voice is further fuelled by the memories of how stiff and silent Hajime had been the entire day, and how he hadn’t even come to greet Tooru last night when he had arrived at the Iwaizumi residence.

But just as this voice becomes unbearably loud, the shoji door slides open. Hajime stands there with an unreadable expression, his dark yogi hanging over his large, muscular frame. At first, his eyes are cast downwards, staring at the tatami. But then, he slowly lifts his gaze and closes the shoji door behind him.

“I know we agreed to sleep separately but…I feel there would be too many questions if we spent tonight apart,” Hajime says, apologetic and awkward. Just as Tooru had suspected, Hajime seems to worry that he is making Tooru uncomfortable. In a way it is understandable — they are an alpha and an omega, and being so close to one another might be nerve-wrecking for some omegas. But in a whole different way, Tooru cannot fathom how Hajime ever could think he’d be nervous around him — Hajime is the safest person Tooru has ever met.

“I already asked the servants to keep our futons separate,” Tooru says and gestures to the futons that, indeed, have been placed on each side of the room. Willing his face into a soft, friendly smile, Tooru looks at Hajime. “I have chosen to delude myself into seeing this as nothing more than a night in our childhood, when either you or I would sneak into the other’s chamber to read more and more stories throughout the night.”

Hajime chuckles. It’s the first real sound he’s made since this morning. “The scolding we received after getting caught was something else.”

After this, Hajime sits down on the tatami across from Tooru. He lowers his gaze again, playing with the dark cotton fabric of his yogi for a moment. He seems to be hesitating.

“You miss him,” Tooru says. The words burn on his tongue, but he knows it has to be said. There will be nothing good from ignoring what’s glaring right at him. The love Hajime has for Tobio is still as clear as ever.

Hajime sighs deeply. “I do.”

Tooru wants to tell Hajime that it’s unfair to keep pining for his little brother now that the two of them are married. He wants to vomit out the jealousy festering inside of him. He wants to cast himself at Hajime’s knees and beg for his love. But instead, he does what a good friend should do — he comforts.

“I miss him too,” Tooru says. This is true. He considers telling Hajime the truth. But he worries that it’s too soon, that Hajime would become wild with desperation and deploy new search troops. Tooru can’t let that happen — he can’t let Tobio steal his future again just as much as he can’t steal Tobio’s future either. “I keep worrying about him. But at the same time, I feel that he is safe and sound.”

“You do?” Hajime asks, surprised. 

“Yes.” Tooru nods.

“I hope you’re right…” Hajime says. He lets out a raw, strained chuckle. “I imagine how disappointed my spouse would be if it was anyone else but you. They would likely be angered at how pathetic I am right now. But rejection hurts much more than I could have ever fathomed.”

“I can imagine,” Tooru says, almost bitterly. Fortunately, Hajime doesn’t pick up on it.

Hajime gives Tooru a sincere, vulnerable smile, the kind of smile that Tooru likes the best.

“I am glad I married you, despite everything,” he says softly. “You are my best friend. And although I wish I never had been rejected…this is the best possible outcome, considering the circumstances.”

With these well-meaning words, Hajime, once again, rips Tooru apart. They confirm all of Tooru’s deepest insecurities of having been Hajime’s second choice, of only being a platonic companion to him, of being chained to a future with no happiness. But at the same time, the soft expression, the gentle words, and the sincere eyes plant further hope into Tooru, and he once again, deludes himself into believing that Hajime’s love will bloom for him one day.

“I am also happy,” Tooru says. “Despite what happened, I feel that we will have a good union.”

And one day you will love me, he thinks to himself.

“I am sorry for being so…colorless and dull today. I hope it didn’t come across as rude or inconsiderate. I know I should have been more excited,” Hajime says sincerely. “I just… I kept remembering Tobio’s words. How he had written that he can’t marry me. I was stuck in the words of his letter when I should have celebrated my union with you.”

Again, the words sting. But, in a twisted way, Tooru relates to what Hajime is saying because he, too, is being forced to settle in this situation. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Iwa-chan,” Tooru assures. “I understand how you feel. I… I also miss Tobio, more than I care to admit. It’s hard on all of us.”

“It is,” Hajime agrees.

A moment of silence passes between them. Outside, the chimes clink in the faint night wind. The flames inside the single andon lamp in their room flickers slowly. Tooru and Hajime exchange a gaze full of mutual understanding and awkward misunderstanding. Where Tooru sees a missed love, Hajime sees a supportive friend. Where Tooru sees hope for change, Hajime sees certain stability. But, what both see is grief, undeniable in the dark circles under both of their eyes.

“Let us rest,” Tooru says softly. “We have to depart early tomorrow.”

“You’re right,” Hajime says. 

Awkwardly, as if unsure if he should approach his husband despite their agreement or not, Hajime sits up on his knees and leans slightly towards Tooru. It only lasts for a few seconds, however, because the next moment he sways slightly backwards, leaving more space between them again. Then, he makes his way to his futon, far away from Tooru’s. Disappointed and somewhat scorned, Tooru does the same after blowing out the light in their lamp.

Stiff darkness settles over their shared chamber. What should be a night of passion and mating is still and swollen with sorrow. Tooru should be waking up with a fresh bondmark adorning his neck tomorrow morning. But instead, he will wake up to loneliness.

“Good night,” Hajime whispers from across the room.

“Good night,” Tooru replies.

The chimes outside continue ringing throughout the night, its soft melody accompanied by the gentle rustling of the miscanthus. Neither Tooru nor Hajime sleep much. Both are troubled by their pasts and their futures, unable to live in the moment. And even if both of them would benefit from raw honesty and soothing comfort right now, they are unable to fully understand each other or open up to each other. So, instead, they lay on each side of the room, stiff and restless.

As morning approaches, the cicadas slowly begin screaming outside. Hajime rises first. Tooru follows his husband’s lead shortly after. The two newlyweds exchange awkward morning greetings, keeping a respectable distance from one another. Then they move to their respective chambers to get changed for the day.

After a light meal and rigid goodbyes, Tooru and Hajime travel to the Edo Castle to officiate their marriage. The ceremony is brief, and if possible, stiffer than their ceremony the day before.

After this, their retinue of servants begin their long journey towards their new home in Date. Tooru and Hajime travel in different carriages, though they wish each other a safe trip before their departure. Although Tooru misses Hajime, he is also relieved at having some distance, finally able to be sad without being forced to maintain a carefree, light-hearted facade. 

The sky above them has turned gray again, the air heavy with the promise of rain. It’s hot and the cicadas are screeching. As he peeks out from the carriage, Tooru sees the field of poppies that only yesterday had been partially red. Today, every single petal has been shed and washed away.