Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Thank you for your purchase. Come back soon!"

The little bell above the door lets out a soft chime as the last customer disappears into the misty evening. Rui watches their figure vanish, then sinks into his old wooden chair behind the counter with a quiet sigh. It’s been a long day… just another long day.

The streets had never been too crowded to begin with, and certainly not on a cold afternoon like this one, tucked somewhere in the folds of the year 1928.

Rui rises slowly, stretches his stiff limbs, and walks to the entrance. With deliberate care, he locks the door using a small golden key — delicate, almost fragile — as though each turn of it sealed away a part of his soul.

Rui Kamishiro has always been a simple man. He lost his parents to the Spanish flu ten years ago, and since then, he has had no family. No real friends in the city either — only acquaintances, some kind, some less so.

From his earliest days, literature was both cradle and refuge. He even wrote a few books of his own. They were not very successful, but he never expected them to be. The mere fact of finishing them was, for Rui, already more than enough.

He started working at fourteen — selling newspapers and cigarettes on windy street corners — saving every coin with quiet determination. People called him mad for it. And maybe he was. Only a madman would spend six years chasing something as delicate and impractical as the dream of owning a library. But he did it.

Then came the inevitable struggle: keeping the library running and affording the rent for a small apartment became too much. So he let go of what was once his "home," and moved into the building he had sacrificed his youth to build.

And so here he is. Living within the walls he once only dreamed of, with a steady job, and Nemo — his chlamydosaurus and his one true companion.

Still… Sometimes — just sometimes — he wishes for the warmth of human company. A voice that answers back.

Rui gazes out the tall window at the silent, dimly lit city. The haze of twilight has settled over the streets, and not a single soul seems to linger outside. He lets himself enjoy the stillness—until a soft knock breaks through it.

Seriously? He had just locked the door.

He walks over with mild irritation tugging at his features, but as he opens it…

Oh. A child.

“A-Ah, little one… I’m terribly sorry, I’ve just closed for the day,” he says, voice gentle despite the surprise. He could never bring himself to be harsh — especially not to a child. Then again, Rui has never been able to treat anyone unkindly. His heart is too big for that, for better or worse. That’s just how he was raised — thankfully.

“Oh… I’m sorry…” the little sapling of a boy murmurs, tucking his face behind a stack of newspapers he’s carrying.

Rui freezes for a moment.

The sight pulls something from deep inside him — a memory, distant but vivid. He sees himself again, years ago, standing small and cold on some forgotten corner of the city, arms weighed down by paper and ink, with nothing but hope and hunger in his pockets.

“Are you selling those?” he asks softly.

The boy nods, eyes barely meeting his.

A quiet chuckle escapes Rui’s lips. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a few coins, pressing them gently into the boy’s small, chilled hands.

The child blinks, stunned. “B-But sir, this… this is much more than—”

“Shhh,” Rui cuts him off with a warm smile. “No problem. Keep it.”

The boy looks up at him like he’s just witnessed magic.

“Oh… th-thank you! Have a good day, God bless you, sir!”

And with that, the sapling takes off down the street, his tiny feet echoing faintly against the cobblestone. Rui chuckles under his breath as he watches him go — a little light flickering in the fog.

Back inside, peace settles over the library once more.

Rui finally returns to his carved wooden counter, where Nemo waits patiently. He drops a few bugs — discovered earlier beneath a dusty bookshelf — into the reptile’s small dish, then sets a kettle on to boil. With the comfort of warm tea in hand and a fresh newspaper opened across the desk, he settles in for the night, surrounded by silence, ink, and the soft rustle of pages.

The usual… unemployment rates on the rise, a bit of controversy surrounding the mayor’s latest decision, some idle gossip about the wealthier families uptown, and—

Oh?

“The Ancient Attic?”

Rui raises a thin eyebrow, the headline tugging at his attention like a thread.

A new antique store opens its doors in the quiet town of Hollowpine, run by Miss Mochizuki Honami. “My goal is to continue my father’s legacy,” she states, “and to keep history alive, just as he dreamed.”

Huh. Now that’s actually something. Rui had been toying with the idea of giving the library a small makeover anyway—just a bit of charm to reignite interest. Perhaps this would be the little push he needed to get started.

Besides… it’s not like he had anything interesting to do today.

Without wasting another second, he gets up, slips into his coat, and carefully wraps his plaid scarf around his neck — his mother’s scarf, still warm with memory. As he turns to leave, he gives a nod to his quiet companion.

“I’ll be right back, Nemo. Won’t be long!”

And just like that, he’s off.

Outside, a light dusting of snow dances through the air, settling over the cobbled streets like powdered sugar. Rui walks through the pale hush of afternoon, his breath clouding in front of him, hands deep in his pockets. As he strolls, he greets the few passersby with polite smiles and soft nods — the same courtesy he’s always shown, regardless of what they say behind his back.

Because they do talk. Of course they do.

It’s never been a secret that Rui Kamishiro is… peculiar. A little too quiet. A little too gentle. Even with a respectable job and a clean reputation, he’s never quite belonged. Especially not after someone overheard him, years ago, admitting he found men more appealing than women.

He’s long accepted that there must be something wrong with him — some strange affliction in the soul, a fever of the heart. But since it doesn’t seem to be terminal, he’s learned to live with it. It’s not like love has been high on his list of priorities lately anyway.

And so, with snowflakes clinging to his coat and the distant bell of the clocktower chiming the hour, Rui walks on — toward a shop he’s never seen, owned by a stranger with a familiar sense of purpose.

When Rui opens the door, the small golden bell above it gives a cheerful ring, and he's immediately greeted by the gentle smile of the ever-kind Miss Mochizuki.

"Oh, Mr. Kamishiro... I haven’t seen you in ages!" she says, her voice as warm as the scent of old wood and polished brass that fills the air.

"I could say the same, Miss," Rui replies with a soft smile, stepping inside and removing a few snowflakes from his coat. "How have things been?"

“Well, pretty good, I suppose!” Honami answers as she closes the door behind him. “I haven’t had many visitors lately, but I’ve been keeping busy with other things.” Her tone is sweet, almost musical, and it echoes gently through the quiet shop. Then she turns toward him with curious eyes. “Did you come looking for something in particular?”

“Oh, more than anything, I just came to take a look,” Rui replies, glancing around. “But I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of leaving with something.”

Honami nods, her smile brightening. “Then please, allow me to show you around.”

She guides him between the narrow shelves and scattered tables, each filled with objects that seem to whisper stories from a forgotten age. The shop is… peculiar, to say the least. A small mirror that reflects only the color blue. A delicate necklace said to have belonged to a long-deceased princess. Books so ancient they’re preserved beneath glass, threatening to crumble to dust at the faintest touch.

But what catches Rui’s eye the most is—

“Excuse me, what about that one?” he asks, pointing toward a small, intricate figurine of a lung dragon resting on a velvet cushion.

“Oh, this?” Honami lifts it with reverent care. “It was found in the mountains by my great-grandfather. According to the analysis we had done, it’s made of actual gold.”

“Actual gold…” Rui’s golden eyes reflect the warm shimmer of the piece as he gently brushes his fingers over its scaled form. “Hm…”

“Something on your mind, sir?” Honami asks softly, noting the way he stares at it.

“O-Oh, nothing,” he murmurs, blinking himself out of thought. “I was just thinking... it would look quite striking on my library counter.”

“You’re right!” she laughs, her voice light and sincere. “It would fit beautifully with your library’s aesthetic. If you’d like, I can put it up for sale.”

“A-Ah, no, really... there’s no need. You’re too kind…”

The back-and-forth lasted at least fifteen minutes, filled with soft protests and even softer persuasion, but eventually, Rui left the store with the golden dragon cradled in a small box.

It now sits proudly on the counter of his library, exactly where he imagined it. And it does look perfect.

Nemo, however, is less than pleased.

The chlamydosaurus flares his neck frill and lets out a low hiss, his tiny reptilian body stiffening beside the new arrival.

“O-Oh, Nemo, you stupid thing...” Rui chuckles, gently scooping him into his arms and stroking his head to calm him. “Don’t you see? It’s just a statue. It won’t hurt you... and it certainly won’t replace you.”

He presses a fond kiss to the top of Nemo’s head.

“You’re my best friend. You always will be.”

Perhaps, Rui thinks with a smile, Nemo just doesn’t like the idea of a cooler reptile sharing the counter—even if it is only a gold statue the same size as him.

Thud.

…?

Thump-thump-thump.

“Wah!”

Rui jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest. The sound echoes through the stillness of the library, and Nemo hisses sharply, his frill flaring.

But this time, Rui isn’t just startled—he’s scared.

That wasn’t a dream. That was the unmistakable sound of books falling. Multiple books.

A thief?
A murderer?
Someone...?

Someone, indeed, broke into the library.

He grabs the flashlight from beneath the counter with trembling fingers and slowly peeks over the edge.

…

…

…Nothing?

Cautiously, Rui steps out from behind the desk, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet. He walks through the dim rows of shelves, the beam of the flashlight sweeping across rows of sleeping spines.

Then he sees it—a messy heap of books on the floor. But not just from one shelf… from two.

His breath hitches in his throat, but he exhales slowly, letting out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Maybe it was just… the shelves shifting?” he murmurs, trying to believe his own theory. "Y-Yes, the books... they're too heavy for them."

He kneels down and reaches for the topmost book, intending to place it back where it belongs—

—but the moment his fingers graze the cover, he sees it.

An eye.

Orange, starry, and burning with something… hostile.

But Rui barely has time to process what he’s looking at. Because in the next instant, something lunges at him— a deafening roar tearing through the library like thunder.

By the time Rui comes to his senses again, he’s gripping a broken chair leg jammed between the creature’s jaws. The thing has him pinned against the wall, sharp claws digging into his shoulders. Is it trying to bite him? Kill him? He doesn’t know—and honestly, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that if he doesn’t do something now, he’s going to die right here, in his own library.

He fights back as best he can, but it’s no use—the creature is absurdly strong. Rui grits his teeth, pushing with all the strength he can muster, but he’s losing ground fast. His arms tremble. His breath is ragged. Blood trickles down his arm where the claws tore through his skin.

Then—WHAM—the creature slams into him again.

He screams. Loud, raw, desperate. But even so, he refuses to give up. With one last burst of strength, Rui manages to twist his body, forcing the creature off-balance. He shoves it with everything he has—and it stumbles, crashing into one of the nearby shelves. The shelf groans under the impact, books raining down like hailstones, and with a loud crack, the creature’s head smashes into the sharp edge of the wood.

It slumps to the floor. Unmoving.

Panting, trembling, Rui raises the flashlight with shaking hands and points it at the creature.

And what he sees makes his heart stop.

It's… humanoid. Mostly.

A lean, strange body, curled on the floor. Bright amber eyes—now closed. Pointed ears. A long tail. Claws.

Not human. But not fully beast, either. What is this? He doesn’t know. A demon? A monster in disguise? Some failed experiment? A shapeshifter? A vampire?

He stares for a moment longer, frozen, breath shallow.

His instincts scream at him to run. To call someone. To burn the place down and never look back.

But Rui does neither.

Instead…

…he gets a rope.

And now, the creature is tied to a chair. Tightly. Hands, ankles, tail. Rui double-checked three knots on the tail alone.

He stands back, panting. Blood still dripping from his arm. His entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"Oh God..." he whispers, holding the flashlight again and approaching the tied figure cautiously.

It doesn’t stir.

But he doesn’t trust it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Of course... of course Rui didn’t expect to find a second pair of arms in the process.

What the hell is this?! Not just horns and a tail—he has four arms?!

He fumbles with the rope, slightly horrified but determined. Once the creature is securely tied to the chair (arms, legs, and tail), Rui grabs his flashlight again and starts making quick mental notes.

Long, golden-blond hair—too long, honestly, almost down to his knees. The tips fade into a soft peach. Oddly silky for someone so… wild. Two thick, jagged horns curl from his head like gnarled branches. Pointed ears, just like the elves from the fantasy novels Rui secretly devours.

And, yes... four muscular arms, each hand tipped with long, black claws.

He has a thick, golden tail that looks more dragon than anything else—armored, powerful, heavy. And his outfit? What is even going on there? He looks like some kind of over-the-top deity from a festival poster. Flowing silks, golden embroidery, and what might be... bells? Rui isn't sure if he's just stunned or actually dreaming.

Before he can process any further, the creature stirs. Bright amber eyes open, lock onto Rui, and instantly, the creature begins thrashing wildly in the chair, growling deep in his throat.

“D-Don’t even try!” Rui stammers, clutching the flashlight like a sword. “I tied you in a... a quadruple knot!”

The creature narrows his eyes, fangs bared.

Rui gulps.

“I-If you behave and do what I say, I’ll untie you. B-But if you try anything, I’ll tie you up again and—I don’t know—sedate you with folklore! I don’t want a fight! I just want to talk. Got it?!”

The creature lets out a long, exhausted sigh. “...Fine.”

Rui exhales, shakily. “Do... do you have a name?”

“Tsukasa,” He answers flatly.

Rui tilts his head, thoughtful. Tsukasa... likely written with the kanji for "director" or "ruler". Fitting, maybe. “So... are you a... humanoid?”

“Humanoid?!” Tsukasa jerks forward against the ropes, outraged. “You’ve got some nerves!”

“A-Ah! Sorry! I’m sorry!” Rui waves his hands, nearly dropping the flashlight. “I just meant—what are you, then?!”

“I’m an almighty Dragon! Is this how you humans treat divine beings now?! With ropes and rude questions?!”

Rui feels his heart trying to escape through his chest. He hesitantly points the flashlight toward the spot where the small lung dragon statue used to sit on the shelf—one he’d proudly bought from Honami’s antique shop.

It’s gone.

He stares. Blinks. Stares again.

"...Where the hell is the dragon statue?!" he blurts, turning the light back to Tsukasa. “Did you steal it?! And what's with that ‘almighty’ attitude, anyway? You sound a little full of yourself.”

“WHAT?!” Tsukasa actually looks offended now. “Steal it?! That statue was me!”

“The stat—” Rui almost drops the flashlight again. He stares at Tsukasa like he just claimed to be the moon. “What do you mean it was you?!”

The dragon sighs, glancing slowly around the room like he’s scanning for danger—or maybe just taking inventory of the absurd situation he’s in. Then his gaze returns to Rui.

“Well... you win. When humans started hunting us, I sealed myself into the statue.”

Rui freezes. That wasn’t the kind of answer he was expecting.

“When humans...?” he echoes, mind swirling like someone had dumped all his thoughts into a blender and pressed purée. “How old are you, exactly?”

Tsukasa tilts his head. “What year is it now?”

“1928.”

“1928?!” Tsukasa jerks again, eyes going wide like twin suns. He teeters so hard he nearly topples off the chair. “That means... it’s been at least twelve centuries since I locked myself away!”

“Twelve hundred years?!” Now Rui’s the one short-circuiting. “W-Wait... That means you might’ve met my ancestors?!”

Tsukasa squints. “That’s incredibly vague. What was their name?”

“Kamishiro.”

“Kamishiro... Kamishiro...” The dragon hums and squints upward, as if expecting the answer to float down from the ceiling. He’s either very deep in thought or has the memory of a drunk goldfish. “Ooh! Yes! I do remember that name. Very respectful family. Not like their descendant...” He glares at Rui with exaggerated offense. “They would never tie me up. I was the god they prayed to!”

Rui throws his arms in the air. “I tied you up because you attacked me!”

“I attacked you because you attacked me first!” Tsukasa protests, attempting to cross his arms dramatically—but can’t, because, well, ropes. Instead, he thrusts his chin toward Rui’s flashlight. “With that thing! Right in the eyes!”

“H-Huh?” Rui blinks at the flashlight, then groans, rubbing his temple. “This isn’t a weapon! It’s a flashlight. It helps people see in the dark. Like, uh... lanterns? Candles? You know, stuff normal people used in your time?”

Tsukasa scoffs and mutters something draconic under his breath that sounds a lot like “weak fire imitation.”

Rui sighs and steps back, suddenly feeling the weight of this entire surreal evening settle into his shoulders. “Alright. Fine. I believe you. You’re a dragon.”

Tsukasa lifts his chin smugly, like of course you do.

“But now it’s my turn,” Rui continues. “Prove it.”

The smugness evaporates instantly.

“I mean, you say you’re a dragon, and sure, the fangs and claws are... intense. But right now, you just look like a monster.”

“A MONSTER?!”

Yep. Rui expected that.

As Tsukasa bursts into another tantrum, thrashing against the ropes with all four limbs and growling loud enough to rattle the bookshelves, Rui calmly steps aside and mumbles to himself:

“...Great. Offended the divine being. Again.”

Rui exhales slowly. Okay... maybe he did go too far calling him a "monster." Understandable reaction from a being who thinks he's divine. Best not to push his luck.

"Alright, alright," the librarian says, hands raised in a truce. "Let's cut to the chase... You're a Dragon. You can shapeshift. But right now you look humanoid. Why? Do you just... pick how you want to look?"

Tsukasa puffs up, clearly regaining his pride. "Well, obviously I shapeshifted into a human to go unnoticed!"

Unnoticed?

Rui blinks at the golden mane, the two horns, the glowing eyes, the four arms, the clawed tail casually curled around the leg of the chair.

"...It doesn’t seem like you were aiming for subtle."

The Dragon opens his mouth, probably to throw another dramatic fit, but—miracle of miracles—he pauses. Inhales. Calms down.

"Untie me," Tsukasa says instead, lifting his chin, "and let’s talk like civilized people."

Rui hesitates, his hand hovering near the ropes. It could be a trap. He knows it could be a trap. But... there’s something oddly sincere about the request. So, against all better judgment, he nods and begins untying the knots.

One by one, Tsukasa’s hands are freed. As soon as the last rope drops, he stretches all four upper limbs with a long, satisfied groan.

"Ahh, freedom. Much better." He looks around, finally taking in the dimly-lit library. The soft glow from Rui’s flashlight and a handful of decorative candles cast long shadows between the bookshelves. But Tsukasa doesn’t seem bothered. His eyes, after all, glimmer like starlight.

Then—suddenly—he goes still. His gaze locks on the lizard tank.

Rui follows the stare and stiffens.

"Why do you keep your food in a glass box?"

"Food?!" Rui jumps into action, rushing to scoop up his frilled lizard, Nemo, and cradle him like a newborn. "N-Nemo’s not food! He’s my pet!"

Tsukasa looks honestly baffled. "Pet?"

"Yeah! A pet is an animal you keep with you for companionship. For fun."

"For... fun?"

The way he repeats it—like it's the most foreign word in existence—makes Rui nearly laugh. He bites his tongue to hold it in.

"You’ve never seen a pet lizard before?"

Tsukasa shrugs, casually. "I used to eat lizards before. They tasted so good... I'm so hungry right now, I could-"

Rui holds Nemo tighter.

"You know," Rui mutters, trying to hide the mild horror, "most people nowadays don’t eat lizards unless they absolutely have to."

"Oh, really? So what do you eat for fun?"

"That’s not how it works..." Rui sighs, then gives the dragon a curious glance. "So wait... if something tastes good, that’s the only criteria for whether it’s food to you?"

"Of course!" Tsukasa says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "If it’s tasty, it’s edible. Why complicate things?"

Rui’s face contorts in mild existential despair. "So you don’t have any moral issues with eating animals?"

Tsukasa tilts his head like a confused puppy. "...Moral?"

Oh no.

"Moral. You know... the thing that tells you what’s right and wrong. Like—" Rui gestures helplessly, "—things you should or shouldn’t do? Morals!"

Tsukasa blinks, clearly chewing on this unfamiliar concept. "...Oh. You mean that thing humans made up so they can argue about it forever?"

Rui stares.

"...Okay. You’re not wrong, but that’s not the point— here, hold him."

Rui watches as Tsukasa carefully holds Nemo, the creature's four hands awkwardly adjusting as the lizard squirms a little. It's both comical and oddly heartwarming—Tsukasa, a dragon who’s probably seen thousands of years of history, is standing there, looking like a giant child learning to hold a pet for the first time.

"How cute..." Tsukasa murmurs, and the librarian’s heart skips a beat. The dragon is smiling, genuinely smiling. It's the first time in all their interactions that the creature doesn’t look like a threat or a wild force of nature about to rip everything apart.

Rui watches Tsukasa's eyes soften as he stares at Nemo, and an unexpected warmth bubbles up inside him. The dragon's smile only widens as Nemo, still a little jumpy, tries to wriggle out of his grip and onto Rui's arm, where he feels safe again.

"Yeah, he's adorable," Rui replies softly, a small smile creeping onto his own face. He’s not quite sure how, but in this moment, Tsukasa doesn’t feel so alien. Maybe... just maybe, they’ve been misunderstanding each other all along.

The dragon looks at the lizard with a certain fondness, before his brow furrows again. "I still don’t get it," Tsukasa admits, looking at Rui with a puzzled expression. "You keep... pets. For fun. But you don’t eat them."

"No, no, we don’t eat pets. We care for them," Rui explains, trying to make it simple. "They’re like... friends. They stay with you because you want them there, not because you need them to survive."

Tsukasa seems to mull over this, the wheels turning in his mind. Rui watches as the dragon adjusts his posture again, more contemplative now than agitated. It's a relief to see the creature begin to take an interest in something other than destruction or confusion.

"Friends, huh... I suppose that makes sense." Tsukasa glances at the lizard, then back at Rui. "You’ve been kind to me. Maybe... I could get used to this." His voice softens, as if admitting something personal. "It’s strange, but... I think I could get used to having someone like you around."

Rui feels his stomach flutter with excitement and apprehension. He was right to not judge Tsukasa based on his past actions—this dragon, despite his ancient power, is far more like him than Rui originally thought. Tsukasa’s been locked away, alone, for centuries... and now, here he is, learning about companionship.

But then, that realization hits Rui with the full weight of responsibility. Tsukasa, a creature who hasn’t interacted with the outside world in over a thousand years, is living in his library. He can’t just let him wander out there. He can’t take him to the real world—he'd get killed! Or kill everyone, maybe both.

Rui sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. What am I going to do?

"I don’t really belong in the world anymore, do I?" Tsukasa says, his voice tinged with quiet regret.

Rui looks at him, his heart heavy. "No, you don’t." His throat tightens at the thought of Tsukasa, a creature who’s lived so long, having nowhere to go. "But... I can help you figure it out. At least, for now."

For the first time, Tsukasa smiles again—this time, a little less uncertain, a little more sure of himself. "Thank you, human."

Rui sits back, trying to steady his breath, trying to convince himself that he’s made the right choice. He’s made it this far, right? What’s one more challenge?

He looks over at Tsukasa, who’s still holding Nemo gently, the lizard now a calm little bundle in his hands.

"Tomorrow," Rui murmurs to himself. "I’ll figure this out tomorrow."

But right now... it’s time for sleep.

Chapter Text

Rui woke up with a suffocating sensation, as if someone had decided to use his torso as a pillow and his ribcage as a structural support.

 He opened his eyes with difficulty. All around him was scales, golden hair, and limbs. Many. Too many.

 “...What...?” he mumbled groggily, still half-asleep.

One claw was resting on his thigh. Another had slipped behind his neck. Tsukasa’s tail had coiled tightly around his waist like a warm, possessive serpent. One arm was crushing his chest. And another... was holding his hand?

The dragon was fast asleep. His breathing was heavy, and his expression peaceful, as if being wrapped around Rui was the most natural thing in the world. And for him... it probably was.

Rui tried to move one arm. Nothing. The other. Less. He tried to free a leg. That only made Tsukasa let out a soft growl and snuggle even closer.

“No, no, no... not closer! ” Rui protested, horrified as a scaly leg brushed dangerously close to his side.

Then he remembered. Lung dragons.

 He’d read it somewhere—or maybe Tsukasa himself had said it last night, while Rui was too exhausted to process it—that dragons often slept in tangled groups. A social instinct of their kind, a way to stay warm, safe, and connected.

Of course. Makes sense for an ancient mythical creature. But Rui wasn’t a dragon. Rui was human. And humans needed space . His body was numb, and his back was starting to complain. The situation was so ridiculous he briefly wondered if he was still dreaming. Or maybe he had died from stress and this was his punishment in the afterlife.

He tried moving again, more determined this time. He managed to slide one leg out of the knot of limbs. Then an arm. With surgical precision and the soul of a frustrated contortionist, he slowly wormed his way out until he was finally free.

At last, he sat at the edge of the makeshift futon, disheveled, sleep-deprived, and with a red mark on his face he hoped was from his own hand and not a claw.

He got to his feet and dragged himself to the small tea table at the back of the room, where a half-empty bottle of water waited. He took a sip and dropped into the chair, eyes on Tsukasa’s sleeping figure sprawled across the futon, taking up nearly the entire carpet.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how surreal it all was. A thousand-year-old dragon sleeping in his library. A being who had once been chained, furious, fire burning in his eyes... and now he snored while hugging a pillow.

He was completely alone with him. No one else knew. No one else could know. And tomorrow... he had to open the library.

Next morning, Rui opened the library as if he didn’t have a dragon sleeping among the medieval literature shelves. Because, technically, the dragon wasn’t sleeping among the shelves. He was hiding behind the front desk, under a mountain of blankets with a very poorly disguised sign hanging from it that read: “DONATIONS – Please do not touch.”

The librarian had spent most of the early morning dragging empty boxes, piling up fabric, reorganizing the desk to make space, and pushing (against a lot of resistance) Tsukasa into the makeshift hideout. All while the dragon muttered nonsense like “I’m suffocating,” “Why do I have to hide when you brought me here?” or worse: “How dare you handle a God so roughly?!”

The sign had been Rui’s idea, born of pure exhaustion and desperation. He’d found it in the storage room, along with a box that had once held stuffed animals for an orphanage. If it worked for teddy bears, he thought, maybe it’ll work for a mythical creature. Makes so much sense, right?

Now, as he poured instant coffee into his thermos, Rui eyed the blanket out of the corner of his eye—the one that trembled slightly every time Tsukasa shifted or sneezed. (Because yes, apparently dragons do sneeze, and it sounded like a mix between an explosion and an indignant snort.)

As expected, the dragon behaved like shit the entire day.

Even though Rui had managed to calm things down for the moment, the dragon under the blanket had zero intention of cooperating. Every time someone got too close to the front desk, Tsukasa would let out a sneeze, a growl, or—worst of all—start moving the blankets with his tail. The library looked more like a war zone than a reading space.

“What the hell were you doing?!” Rui lifted the blankets, stress levels through the roof, once the library had closed.

“Uhm, excuse me?” The dragon stood up, crossing a pair of arms and resting another on his hip, radiating arrogance as always. “I’m a living being too, you know! I can’t just not move!”

“I-I'm not just talking about you just moving!” Rui grit his teeth, barely holding onto the last shreds of his patience. “Why were you growling every time someone came near the counter? And the sneezes! What did you think would happen?! Do you want us to get caught?!”

The beast tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. “Didn’t you see what I was doing? I was trying my best not to crush anything. If I don’t move, my joints ache. And those growls... What did you think they were? It’s my way of warning them not to come too close!” Tsukasa crossed his arms tighter, his tail flicking with impatience—knocking a stack of books on the nearby table, which wobbled dangerously.

Rui sighed, closing his eyes as he massaged his temples.  “I’m not asking you not to move... just don’t be so obvious. Didn’t you learn any stealth back when they started hunting you?”

“Ahh, shut up, shut up! Fine, I’ll stay quiet next time…” he grumbled, tail now definitely knocking over the books.

“You—!” The librarian forced himself to take a deep breath, resisting the very real urge to tie the dragon to the chair again.  He crouched down to gather the fallen books, trying to find a topic to distract them both.  “...Can you read?”

“...Read?”

“Answer enough.” He nodded, stacking the books back onto the desk.  “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. You are a beast, after all... Humans sometimes write fictional stories. About people who don’t exist in real life.”

“...Why would they write about something that’s not real?”

“Because otherwise, it’d be a biography. The point is , you might actually enjoy literature. I think fantasy would suit you. Here—” He handed him a book, reading the cover aloud. “Beauty and the Beast. I wrote it a long time ago… ”

“Beauty and Beast…” Tsukasa repeated, holding the book awkwardly, clearly afraid of tearing the pages with his claws.  “What’s it about?”

“Well…” Rui sat cross-legged on the edge of the desk.

He’d always wished this book could see the light of day. But unfortunately, it never did. Everyone said it was too fantastical, too unrealistic, and it was tossed aside—along with his dream of being a writer who could touch people’s hearts. He sighed, then gave a faint smile.

“It’s about Belle. A girl from a French village, trying to find her place in the world. The townspeople look at her strangely and avoid her, because she likes to read and has no interest in getting married.”

“...Huh. Like you?”

“Like me ?”

“I mean!” The dragon flopped down next to him—not mirroring Rui’s graceful posture in the slightest. Limbs everywhere, half-reclined on the furniture like it was his personal throne. “From what I heard this afternoon, you live locked up in here with all these paper scraps and you don’t have any friends.”

Rui blinked. Slowly turned his head to look at him. “Excuse me? I don’t have what ?”

Tsukasa shrugged slightly. “Friends. I mean, I didn’t hear anyone treating you nicely. You looked like another piece of the furniture.”

“...I don’t need visitors to have an active social life,” Rui muttered, clearly offended, stacking the books again—this time with more force than necessary.  “And I’m not furniture. I’m a librarian.”

“Uh-huh. A decorative librarian.”

“I am not decorative!”

“You sure? You’ve got a lot of plants. That screams ‘trying to cover up loneliness.’”

Rui went silent for a second, staring at one of his hanging plants like they had just betrayed him.

Tsukasa let out a low, raspy chuckle—not as mocking this time. It sounded… comfortable. Like talking to someone was turning out to be surprisingly nice.

Rui huffed, but the breath came out softer than before.  “...I think you’re being incredibly ungrateful. Now, do you want to know what the book is about or not?”

The dragon looked at him with quiet curiosity, his golden eyes glowing under the warm desk light.  “Yes.”

Rui adjusted his seat, crossing his legs again. He held the book gently, like it was something delicate. “Belle ends up in a cursed castle, where a beast lives. And at first, she’s afraid of him, but… over time, she starts to get to know him. The beast actually has a big heart, but he was cursed because of his selfishness. And, well… slowly, they start to change each other’s hearts.”

“Do they fall in love?”

“Yes,” Rui answered, voice lower now. Then, after a pause, he added quickly, “But that’s not the point. The point is that they learn to understand each other. To coexist.”

Tsukasa tilted his head. “And you wanted people to read this?”

“Yes. Well. I still do.”

“Why didn’t anyone read it?”

“Because…” He wanted to justify it. To find the right words again and again, trying to explain. But he couldn’t just blurt out ‘because nobody in this town likes me’ , could he? “I don’t know. Sometimes… people just like other things. And that’s okay.”

Tsukasa raised a brow, but nodded anyway, trying to grasp the idea. Maybe, Rui thought, somewhere deep in that soul of his, he did understand what loneliness felt like. It made him curious. And sad. Had this creature been aware while trapped in the statue? Could he see the world outside, or had it been complete darkness? Had he shrunk down to fit inside, or was he crushed the whole time?

“I’ve never seen a human fall in love with a beast.”

“That’s exactly why it’s fiction… It’s something that would never happen in real life.”

“And people read that?”

“You already asked that.”

Rui opened the book and flipped to the first page, his fingers brushing over the letters with a quiet sense of pride.  “Chapter one…” he murmured. “Once upon a time, in a small village in France, there lived a young woman named Belle…”

Tsukasa listened with his head propped up on one hand, his tail lazily flicking behind the desk.

They were barely through the opening scene when the dragon raised his head.

 “Wait. Why does everyone hate her? Just because she likes books?”

Rui nodded with quiet sorrow. “Because she’s different. I-I had already told you that, did you even listen to me?

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s human.”

Tsukasa frowned but didn’t argue. Rui kept reading.

When Gaston appeared and proposed to Belle, Tsukasa snorted. “Why doesn’t she go with him? He has muscles.”

 “...Is that your only criteria?”

“No! But he’s strong, right? He could protect her.”

“Belle doesn’t need protection. She needs someone who listens.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I wrote her.”

“...Oh. Right.”

They moved on to the chapters where Belle arrived at the castle. The dragon leaned in closer to the book, visibly more interested now.  “And this beast guy—he’s like me?”

“He’s furry.”

“Ugh. I have scales.”

“Well, he does have a massive library.”

Tsukasa’s ears perked up. “A library?” His golden eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Does he let her borrow books?”

“Yes,” Rui nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “In fact, the library is one of the places where they start to connect.”

“Is that why she doesn’t leave? Because of the books? Such a selfish woman!”

Rui paused for a moment, thinking. “Partly. She’s trapped in the castle, but she’s not really a prisoner. She stays because there’s something there—peace she doesn’t find in the village.”

Tsukasa grunted thoughtfully. “So, she prefers books to people?”

“At first, yes. But it’s not really about the books. It’s about understanding. She’s different, and she meets someone else who’s also different. They begin to see each other for who they really are.”

The dragon’s tail twitched. “So... it’s about not being a monster?”

“...Maybe. Sometimes we have to change to see what’s truly important.”

“That sounds too soft. I would just crush everyone.”

“Of course…” He let out a long sigh.

Tsukasa glanced at the book again, a frown tugging at his features. “What happens next? Do they kiss?”

Rui sighed but smiled. “Not yet. They still have to learn how to understand each other first.”

“Seems like a lot of work,” The God muttered.

“You’re one to talk, you’ve been hiding under blankets all day.”

Tsukasa gave him an exaggerated look of indignation. “I’ve been working on my acting skills.”

“Uh-huh. Very convincing,” Rui teased.

The dragon huffed but didn’t argue, his gaze drifting back to the book. “Fine, fine. Continue.”

The night passed without the passage of time being felt. As the hours slid by in the stillness of the library, the pages of the book turned with a soft, comforting sound. Tsukasa, completely absorbed in the reading, would occasionally pause to comment on something to Rui, who couldn’t help but be surprised by the depth of his observations.

“So... Nemo, was it?” Tsukasa let out a low chuckle, pointing at the small chlamydosaurus resting on the desk.

“Oh? Yes, Nemo. What about him?” 

“Hmmm... this animal, is he like those... servants in the castle? The little ones that help the beast?”

Rui furrowed his brow, looking at the dragon “Servants? Well, not exactly. They’re more... secondary characters, but they play an important role in the story.”

Tsukasa, however, wasn’t concerned with the nuance. “They seem like... weak objects. Why does the beast take care of them if they’re so weak? In my world, those beings are nothing.”

Rui paused for a moment, realizing what Tsukasa had said. “Don’t see them like that... They have value, Tsukasa. In their form, they have their purpose. Even the weakest ones can make an impact.”

The dragon tilted his head, his tail swishing uncomfortably. “In my world, the purpose is survival. There’s no room for the weak.”

“I think that’s what makes the story special,” Rui said, flipping to the next page. “It’s not about surviving, but about finding something more, something beyond strength.”

Tsukasa grunted but didn’t continue with the topic. At least for now, he decided to focus on the story and its dynamic with the characters.

As they reached the part of the book where the villagers gathered to kill the Beast, Tsukasa’s expression changed. His eyes, once wide with curiosity, narrowed slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

Rui noticed the shift in the dragon’s demeanor. "Tsukasa? What’s wrong?"

The words seemed to have cut deeper than Rui had expected. The narrative described how the people of the village, frightened by the Beast’s presence, joined forces to destroy it, their collective hatred growing stronger with each passing day. Tsukasa’s tail twitched involuntarily, his claws digging into the edge of the table as his shoulders tensed.

"Tsukasa...?" Heasked again, his voice quieter this time.

"They... they always gather in groups," The dragon muttered, his voice strained. "Always together to hunt. Always stronger together... They think they can defeat what they fear."

Rui blinked, sensing something raw in Tsukasa’s tone. He gently placed the book down and leaned forward. "Who? Who do you mean?"

"Humans." Tsukasa’s voice was thick with pain. "They don’t hunt alone. They never do. They gather, they attack, they destroy. They think... They think that by killing what they fear, they are somehow safe. But they never understand... you can’t kill a thing by destroying it. It only grows stronger. It comes back, again and again."

Rui’s eyes widened, his heart racing as the weight of Tsukasa’s words sank in. "I... I didn’t know. I didn’t realize it hurt you so much."

Tsukasa closed his eyes, a deep sigh escaping him as he leaned back in his chair. "I’m sorry. I... didn’t mean to make you sad. It’s just... every time I hear about people banding together like that, it reminds me of..." His voice faltered, as though something was caught in his throat.

Now understanding the depth of Tsukasa’s trauma, the librarian reached out cautiously. "You don’t have to explain it. I... I understand. It’s hard when the people you once trusted... turn on you."

Tsukasa didn’t speak for a while, his mind clearly lost in the past. He thought back to those early days when his kind had been revered, when they were gods. Then, when the fear took hold of the humans, and the collective hatred spread like wildfire. The hunting parties, the traps, the endless cycles of violence... the moment when he had been captured, imprisoned for so long, helpless and alone.

But now, with Rui beside him, in this moment, he didn’t feel as if he were completely alone anymore. It was a strange, new feeling. One he wasn’t used to.

"I don’t want to feel like that again. I don’t want to feel like I’m being hunted... or like I’m nothing more than prey."

Rui nodded, his gaze softening. "You’re not prey, Tsukasa. You’re not alone. And you won’t be hunted anymore. Not by anyone here."

The dragon’s eyes met his, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Tsukasa let himself believe in the possibility of something different—something better.

Chapter Text

Rui had always felt proud of himself for his ability to keep things orderly. 

The library, his sanctuary, was a reflection of that discipline. Rows of books stood in neat columns, each in its place, and the soft rustle of pages turning was the only sound that disturbed the stillness. But now, the library had become a battleground.

Every day, it became harder to ignore the growing discomfort in his chest. Tsukasa, ever the unpredictable presence, was a constant challenge. Not that the dragon was a nuisance, at least not intentionally. It was more the subtle chaos he brought, the tension in the air whenever he slithered his way into the library.

Rui had to be careful. Too careful. No one could know about Tsukasa. Not the townspeople. Not the scholars who occasionally wandered through the library, searching for knowledge or escape. If anyone suspected, it would be trouble. He could already feel the weight of their stares, could hear the whispers that would follow him for the rest of his life.

The dragon didn't seem to care. AT ALL.

Tsukasa, with his sharp claws and shifting moods, had no concept of discretion. No matter how many times Rui had tried to explain the importance of blending in, of being subtle, Tsukasa still couldn’t understand the need to "behave" in a way that wouldn’t raise questions.

"It’s a library, not a circus," Rui had snapped one day when Tsukasa knocked over yet another stack of books with an absent flick of his tail. "Do you understand the concept of order?"

The dragon had tilted his head, as if truly puzzled, before responding with a casual, "I thought it was just a place with a lot of paper."

Every day it was the same. Rui would find himself desperately trying to hide Tsukasa, steering him toward corners of the library where his dragonish tendencies wouldn’t attract attention. Hissing under his breath, Rui would try to calm his fraying nerves. He was starting to question how long he could keep up the charade.

The worst part was that Tsukasa wasn’t even trying to be difficult. It was all a matter of difference—of understanding—and to be honest, it was Rui’s own inability to let go of his perfectionism that made everything more complicated. He needed everything to be in its proper place, every action calculated, every movement discreet. But Tsukasa wasn’t like that.

And that made everything worse.

Rui often found himself pacing late at night, when the library was empty, replaying his decisions over and over. He couldn’t keep doing this, could he? Hiding Tsukasa away, pretending everything was normal? It was only a matter of time before someone figured it out.

The librarian spent the next few days planning his every move with a kind of frantic precision. Every time he stepped into the library, his heart raced. He was becoming more and more exhausted by the effort of keeping Tsukasa hidden, and the stress was starting to show in his meticulous movements. His thoughts raced constantly: "If I can just keep him out of sight for a little longer, I’ll figure something out."

He’d moved Tsukasa to the storage room behind the bookshelves, thinking that might buy him some time. But then Tsukasa started… moving things. Pulling books off the shelves, knocking things over in his restless slumber. Rui had nearly had a heart attack when he found Tsukasa sprawled across a pile of ancient scrolls one morning, looking entirely too comfortable for something that was supposed to be hidden.

"Stay still!" Rui hissed, clutching his forehead in frustration.

Tsukasa, blinking lazily, yawned. "I don't get it. What's the big deal? No one's coming here anyway."

Rui grit his teeth. "That's not the point!" he snapped, pacing the small space. "The point is that if anyone finds out, we'll be in trouble. You can’t just—"

"Can't I?" Tsukasa interrupted, and Rui turned to see the dragon grinning mischievously. Before he could respond, Tsukasa's form shimmered and compacted into something much smaller. The transformation was almost instantaneous, and before Rui knew it, the dragon was now a creature barely the size of Nemo, his body curled up snugly on the shelf.

"Whoa," Rui whispered, his jaw dropping. "You—how did you—"

Tsukasa blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "What, you didn’t know I could do this? It’s just a little trick I’ve picked up."

Rui stared, awe and disbelief crossing his face. He took a step back, suddenly realizing how much easier things would have been if Tsukasa had told him this sooner. His hand found his face, rubbing the stress away.

"How… how long have you been able to do this?" he asked, his voice tight with incredulity.

Tsukasa shrugged, now looking utterly unfazed by his new size. "A while. I just didn’t think it would help. I mean, you seemed to be doing fine hiding me before. But hey, now you don’t have to worry about knocking me into walls or stepping on my tail."

"Are you telling me that all this time, you could’ve just shrunk yourself down like this, and you waited until now to show me?!" His voice rose in disbelief, lashing out in stress. "You’ve got to be kidding me!"

The little dragon tilted his head, unfazed by Rui’s outburst. "Well, I didn’t know it would help. And I didn’t think you needed me to hide, anyway. You seemed to have things under control."

"Under control?" Rui nearly shouted. "I’ve been sweating bullets every day trying to figure out how to keep you safe, and you’ve just been lounging around, waiting for the right moment to shrink down? Do you have any idea how much easier this would’ve been?!"

Tsukasa, still in his small form, blinked innocently. "You never asked."

Rui stood frozen for a moment, his heart still racing with frustration, before he let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I’m going to lose my mind." He turned and began pacing again, trying to compose himself. "Alright. Fine. Let’s just… focus on what we can do now. We can use this."

"See? Told you I could be useful."

The golden-eyed man shot him a glare, but the dragon only tilted his head again, his small wings twitching as if to say, “It’s not that bad, right?”

"Okay," Rui muttered under his breath, "now we just need to figure out how to make this work without drawing too much attention."

The librarian wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck, the fabric heavy with the weight of secrecy. Tsukasa, now small and hidden from view, nestled contentedly in the folds, his tiny form barely noticeable. Rui felt the familiar pang of anxiety building in his chest as he stepped outside the library, the eyes of the village on him, even if they weren’t directly staring. It wasn’t unusual—Rui had always been a peculiar sight in the small town, the bookish young man with a tendency to keep to himself, always a bit too quiet, too serious.

He was used to it by now, or at least he tried to be. The whispers that followed him from behind corners, the sideways glances when he passed by, the way people spoke to him as if he were something distant, something... "other." He was the odd one . The rare exception. And it had been like this for as long as he could remember.

Walking down the cobbled street, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the town's disapproval, the same way Belle must have felt, standing apart from the crowd, constantly misunderstood. Just like her, Rui was different, and in a place like this, that difference was enough to make him the subject of idle gossip. He could hear snippets of conversation as he passed groups of people.

“Did you see him leave today? No one ever sees him around with anyone...”

“...Strange. Spends all his time in that dusty library. Must be lonely.”

The words stung, even if he tried to ignore them. Just like Belle in the story, he wasn’t quite one of them, and never would be. It was easier that way, he supposed. Easier to remain distant, to keep to himself, to bury his emotions under layers of polite smiles and neutral nods.

Tsukasa, curled up in the folds of his scarf, seemed oblivious to Rui’s inner turmoil, but he could still feel the dragon’s warmth against his neck. He hadn’t said a word, content to stay hidden in the cozy fabric, but the subtle rustle of his movements reminded Rui that he wasn’t truly alone. 

“Hey,” Tsukasa whispered from beneath the scarf, his voice barely a tremor against Rui’s skin. “You okay?”

Rui’s heart clenched. He was. Or he was pretending to be, anyway. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice soft but firm. “I just—” He paused, unsure how to voice what he was feeling. “I just wish I didn’t have to keep hiding. It’s exhausting.”

He had just passed the bakery when a familiar voice called out to him, sharp and laced with an underlying mockery. He turned slightly, recognizing the figure that stepped out of the crowd—a man who was always quick to voice his opinions, especially when it came to someone like Rui.

"Kamishiro, isn’t it? Finally got out of the dusty books!," the man said with a thin smile, eyes glinting like he had just caught a rare insect in his net.

Rui froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones at his feet. He knew what was coming. It was always the same. He forced a smile, the kind he’d perfected over the years to deflect the barbs that came his way. "I suppose so, but there’s always something to learn in a book."

The man chuckled, the sound sharp and mocking, and took a step closer. "Still avoiding the world, then? Strange, isn’t it? The way you stay shut up in that library, alone, all day. A man your age should be... well, out there, living life, don’t you think?"

“...Hm.” He limited himself to nodding.

"Then again, I suppose you’ve always been a bit of an odd one, haven’t you?" His smile grew wider, more knowing. "The way people talk about you. Strange interests, strange behavior. They say you never were quite right after the death of your family... after the flu, that is. And well, who could blame you? Being a poor orphan and all, selling papers for scraps in the cold... not a life anyone would envy, I imagine."

Rui stiffened, his heartbeat quickening. He’d never quite gotten used to how easily the man—no, how easily anyone —could make his past a joke. How they turned his struggle into something they could gossip about. After all… it’s something so tragic it could be turned into a comedy, right? 

He could feel the man’s eyes on him, watching for a reaction. But Rui had learned long ago how to keep his emotions buried beneath a layer of carefully constructed indifference. He simply let out a soft breath and raised his eyes to meet the man’s gaze, steady but cold.

"I’ve done what I needed to do to survive," He admitted, his voice calm but firm. "And I’d appreciate it if my past was left out of your casual conversations."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the calmness in Rui’s voice. For a moment, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by a more sympathetic expression. It was all an act, Rui could see that. He had no intention of being genuinely concerned—just the opposite. This was his way of making sure Rui felt small, vulnerable, like an outsider in a world that didn’t understand.

"Of course, of course," the man replied, the tone of faux sympathy dripping from his words. "I only meant to say, it’s a wonder you’re so... strong, after all that. Most people, after losing everything, would crumble. But not you, huh? You just bury yourself in those books and hide from the world."

Rui’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. 

As he walked, the words lingered in his mind— odd , strange , hide from the world . The same words he had heard for years. The same words that had followed him since he was a boy.

But as he reached the edge of the village, where the houses began to thin out and the path led toward the forest, Rui couldn’t help but feel the sting of something deeper. The man’s words weren’t just about the books, or his strange preferences. No, they were about him—about the parts of him that no one could ever truly understand.

In this small town, where everyone seemed to have their place, he had never belonged. Not as a boy, and not as an adult. The past was a shadow that haunted him, one he could never outrun.

He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, trying to block out the cold wind—and the cold people, too.

Rui had only meant to stop by the apothecary for a few herbs—nothing dramatic, nothing time-consuming. Just in and out. He kept his head low, scarf still wrapped tight around his neck, as if he could somehow slip through the streets without being noticed.

But the town didn’t let him pass easily.

As he stepped out, clutching a small paper-wrapped bundle, a sharp voice rang through the air like a bell.

“Oh my, Rui!”

He stopped mid-step. The voice belonged to Mrs. Langford—an older woman with a perfectly pressed hat and a talent for disguising cruelty behind warm smiles and strong perfume. He turned slowly, managing a polite nod.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he murmured.

Her eyes sparkled as she closed the distance, gripping her basket like it gave her moral authority. “My, my, still so polite. And so handsome, too. A young man like you... surely the girls must be lining up at your door!”

Rui forced a tight smile, trying to step back, but she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh—wait. That’s right.” Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a shift in her tone. A soft clink of ice beneath honey. “Not your... taste, is it?”

The breath caught in Rui’s throat. His fingers tightened around the bundle in his hand.

“I never judge, of course,” she added, waving a gloved hand as if brushing away any accusation. “Times are changing, aren't they? But you know how people talk. It’s just such a waste .”

She looked him over like she was admiring a vase on a shelf. “So refined, so well-read. It’s always the pretty ones that end up... different. ”

Rui blinked, slowly. He wanted to disappear into the ground. To scream. To say something that might put a stop to this without giving her the satisfaction of seeing him flustered. But instead, he replied simply:

“I’d rather be different than cruel.”

Her lips parted slightly—just for a second—but she quickly recovered, letting out a short laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you always were such a clever boy.”

Rui nodded once, ready to continue. As he walked away, he could still feel her gaze digging into his back like needles. He wished the street would swallow him whole.

The mountain path was quiet, save for the occasional crunch of gravel under Rui’s boots and the whisper of wind through the pines. His scarf shifted slightly as Tsukasa, nestled within its folds, peeked out to feel the sunlight.

“…This place is strange,” Tsukasa murmured, voice muffled by wool. “They stare at you like you’re the one with claws and fangs.”

Rui let out a breath—half laugh, half sigh. “I suppose I am, to them.”

Tsukasa tilted his head, curious. “You don’t growl. Or bite. You just read sad books and talk like you’re made of fog.”

“Well, fog tends to linger where it isn’t wanted.”

The dragon crawled up higher, until his chin rested just above the scarf’s edge. “Why do they treat you like that?”

The question hung in the air, heavier than the breeze.

Rui hesitated, his eyes fixed on the winding trail ahead. “I didn't belong here. I was born in the city, but my parents died during the Spanish Flu outbreak, in 1920. I ended up alone—selling papers in coal-stained clothes. I used to sleep between crates in alleyways.”

Tsukasa was quiet, blinking slowly.

“Eventually,” Rui continued, “I could make my life a bit stable. But people never forgot I wasn’t really from here. And once they started noticing... other things about me…”

“Like what?”

A pause. Rui glanced sideways, though Tsukasa’s eyes were steady on his.

“…That I prefer men,” he said finally. “That I never chased after girls like the other boys. That I liked poetry more than plowing. That I never laughed when the others made jokes about ‘strange folk.’”

“I don’t understand,” Tsukasa muttered. “Why is that strange?”

Rui glanced down at him, confused.

“In your world,” Tsukasa continued, frowning slightly, “is it... expected to only love women?”

Rui gave a soft laugh, but it was dry. “Expected? More like required.”

Tsukasa tilted his head. “But why? That’s so… specific.”

“You’re telling me dragons don’t care?”

“We care who makes us feel warm,” Tsukasa replied simply. “Not what shape they take.”

Rui looked at him for a moment, as if that were the first sensible thing he’d heard in years.

“I think I envy you,” he said softly.

Tsukasa yawned, curling deeper into the scarf. “Well. Good news. I’m yours. So they’re scared of you because you don’t fit their box. That’s stupid.”

“…Thank you.”

“No, really,” Tsukasa went on. “You don’t need fangs or claws to be a monster. You just need fear. They have plenty.”

Rui stopped walking, standing still in the silence of the woods. The sunlight broke through the trees in golden beams. After a long breath, he whispered:

“I’m glad you’re here.”

The creature stretched lazily in the warmth of the scarf. “Of course you are. I’m amazing.”

“Unbearable.”

“Handsome.”

“Obnoxious.”

“Warm.”

That last word lingered, and Rui didn’t argue with it.

Chapter Text

The path to the mountain was steep, the ground beneath their feet uneven, but Rui was used to the climb. Hollowpine’s streets were just as treasonous and unpredictable, he had tripped way too many times. Tsukasa had returned to his full size, his humanoid form now moving with ease beside him. His golden eyes scanned the surroundings as if recognizing the mountain, his expression unreadable. Rui had never been here before, not in this way. It was different now, and the weight of it settled heavily on his shoulders.

"Is this it?" The place had always been something of a mystery to him, a place of stories, a place people spoke of in hushed tones.

Tsukasa nodded. "Yes. This was where my kind lived... before."

The wind howled through the trees, carrying the scent of moss and pine. Rui could feel the old, quiet power of the place, a feeling that was both awe-inspiring and... unsettling. “...Why did they turn on you? The God they prayed to… my own ancestors…”

A flicker of something ancient and painful passing through the dragon’s eyes. "Greed. Fear. The same things that destroy all the great things in the world. They saw us as a threat. They didn’t understand... and so they decided we no longer had a place in their world."

Rui felt a chill run down his spine, as the words settled between them like the mountain itself — heavy, solid, unforgiving. The air felt thicker here, as if it was alive with memories of long-lost times.

They continued to climb in silence, the quiet broken only by the occasional snap of a twig or the rustling of leaves. As they neared the summit, Rui began to wonder what Tsukasa saw when he looked at the mountain. Was it just stone to him now, or did it still carry the weight of the past?

Tsukasa seemed to sense his thoughts and spoke again. "This place... used to be full of life. Full of us. But time changes everything."

Rui looked over at him, his brow furrowed. "And what happens now? What happens to... you?"

Tsukasa turned his gaze to the horizon, his golden eyes reflecting the light in a way that made him seem almost ethereal. "Now, I live in the shadows of what once was. But perhaps... it is not so different from what you do, Rui."

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the summit of the mountain. The climb had been arduous, the path winding and treacherous, but as they crested the final rise, the world seemed to change. The air was clearer, lighter, and the oppressive weight of the past lifted slightly.

At the top, the scene before them was almost surreal. 

The rocky, barren ground gave way to lush, vibrant green grass that stretched out like a carpet, dotted with wildflowers in shades of violet, yellow, and crimson. The scent of earth and blooming flora hung in the air, filling Rui's lungs with a sweetness he hadn't realized he'd been missing. It was a stark contrast to the desolation they had passed through.

The insects buzzed lazily in the warm breeze, and Rui watched as a butterfly flitted by, its wings delicate and iridescent. He had to pause for a moment, caught by the unexpected beauty of the place. The life here was fragile, like a quiet whisper from the earth itself, calling back life after the cataclysm.

Tsukasa stood beside him, his gaze sweeping over the land with a kind of reverence, his eyes softer than Rui had seen them before.

"It's... growing back.” His eyes were shining like stars, in a way that made a knot in Rui’s throat for some seconds.

"I guess even after everything, life finds a way to return." He crouched down, letting his fingers graze the soft grass. "It's strange, though. After so much destruction, to see something like this. It feels... like a promise."

"A promise?" The dragon repeated, glancing at Rui. "A promise of what?"

Rui stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers as he looked out over the valley below. "A promise that maybe, even when things are lost, something good can come from it. It reminds me of... how people can change. How even after all the hate, all the fear... things can grow again."

Tsukasa said nothing for a long moment, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but rather contemplative, as if the mountain itself was whispering its secrets to the world around them.

"I've seen destruction," Tsukasa finally said, his voice steady. "But I've also seen rebirth. It is the way of things. Nothing lasts forever, but… nothing is truly gone either."

Rui glanced at Tsukasa, surprised by the depth in his voice. He was beginning to understand something more about the dragon's past. Tsukasa had witnessed both the downfall of his kind and the possibility of something new. He was more than just a creature of rage and fire—there was wisdom in him, too.

In the distance, the soft rustle of the grass seemed to carry a promise, a quiet echo of something that could be. And for the first time in a long time, Rui allowed himself to believe that maybe, there was hope for a future that was more than just surviving.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the world in a warm, golden glow. Tsukasa stood still for a long moment, his fingers brushing carefully over the flowers at his feet. He didn’t say anything, but something seemed to shift in him. A quiet longing that Rui couldn’t place seemed to pulse in the air.

His eyes, always so full of fire and mystery, softened for a moment as he gazed across the valley. He took a deep breath, and the librarian could swear he saw the faintest flicker of something ancient and powerful stirring in him.

“I… I used to fly across lands like this,” Tsukasa murmured, almost to himself. “I could soar above mountains, dive through the clouds... feel the wind rush through my scales, the sky beneath my body.” He sighed softly, and for the briefest moment, Rui wondered if Tsukasa was remembering something he had long since lost.

Before Rui could speak, Tsukasa moved. The air around him seemed to shimmer for an instant, and his body began to change. 

The librarian stepped back, eyes wide, as Tsukasa’s form stretched and shifted, growing larger, more serpentine. In the blink of an eye, the dragon was before him—silent, immense, with scales that shimmered in the fading light. Tsukasa had become the long, magnificent dragon he had once been.

Rui stood frozen, breath caught in his throat. It was both magnificent and terrifying. Tsukasa’s body coiled and undulated with ease, the long tail sweeping gracefully across the ground. His eyes—now more gold than ever—gleamed, and Rui felt a chill run down his spine.

There was no roar, no overwhelming presence. In his dragon form, he moved silently, as if he had become part of the wind itself. It was like watching a shadow of the past materialize before his eyes.

Rui swallowed, trying to process the sight before him. 

“Tsukasa…” His voice was barely above a whisper, unsure of what to say. The dragon paused, and for a brief moment, Tsukasa’s gaze locked with his—silent, but filled with a deeper understanding.

Without warning, Tsukasa’s massive, serpentine body unfurled and moved gracefully toward the cliffside, his long neck arching up towards the sky, trying to reclaim a past he had lost. Rui watched in awe, fascinated and afraid at once. Tsukasa’s transformation wasn’t just physical—it was a return to something he had been, something the world had taken from him.

The wind stirred around them, and Tsukasa’s body seemed to fill the space with an ancient energy. He was still—silent—but there was something almost mournful in his stillness. Rui could sense it: the longing, the loss, the piece of Tsukasa that had been buried beneath the weight of his human form.

Rui hesitated before slowly stepping forward. His fingers grazed the tip of Tsukasa's tail, which flicked with a barely noticeable twitch. It was like touching the surface of something much, much older than he could comprehend.

“You’ve been holding this back for so long…”

After a moment of stillness, Tsukasa’s massive head slowly lowered towards the ground. His golden eyes locked onto Rui, full of something deep—gratitude, pain, something Rui couldn’t quite name. With a soft, slow movement, the great beast’s head descended, the sharp, glistening scales brushing gently against the earth, as though offering the most fragile part of himself.

Rui's breath caught in his throat. The dragon’s immense size was overwhelming, but there was something profoundly gentle in his movement. Tsukasa, in that moment, was not the terrifying force of nature he had been once, but a creature who sought connection, who sought comfort.

His head rested on the ground before Rui, his eyes never leaving him. The human hesitated, unsure of what to do. The creature before him was so much larger than anything he had ever encountered, so much older, so much wiser—but here, now, Tsukasa was offering him something he’d never thought he’d receive.

Trust.

Taking a deep breath, Rui slowly moved closer, reaching out a hand toward the dragon’s smooth scales. His fingers brushed against them, feeling the cool, smooth texture beneath his touch. The scales were unlike anything he had ever touched—hard and delicate at the same time, as if they were forged by some force beyond time.

Tsukasa did not flinch. Instead, he closed his eyes, a faint rumble rising in his chest—a sound that seemed almost like a purr, a soft vibration that resonated deep within Rui’s bones. It was a quiet sound, a sign of contentment, of peace.

Rui’s heart thudded in his chest as he continued to gently run his fingers along the dragon’s head. He could feel the warmth of Tsukasa’s massive form, the pulse of life beneath those scales. 

For a fleeting moment, Rui forgot about everything—the village, the judgments, the dangers. It was just him and Tsukasa, standing there in the quiet of the mountaintop.

"Thank you," Rui whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness. He wasn’t sure if Tsukasa could hear him, but the dragon’s eyes glimmered as if he understood. Maybe it was actually Tsukasa the one who had to thank him, but the librarian still felt the need to do so. He can’t remember the last time he felt this… loved. Appreciated.

Wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of the flowers and the earth beneath them. Tsukasa’s enormous form seemed to blend with the landscape, both ancient and timeless. And as Rui stood there, still hand on Tsukasa’s scales, he realized that this mountain—this place of rebirth—was not only healing the land, but also the creature who stood before him.

The moment seemed to stretch on, the weight of the silence only broken by the wind and the soft rustle of leaves. Tsukasa, after a pause, began to shift once again. His massive form shrank, the glowing scales fading as his body contracted, reshaping itself into the humanoid figure Rui had come to know. 

Tsukasa’s eyes—those golden, ancient eyes—locked with Rui’s once more, but this time they held something different. There was no fear, no hesitation. Just gratitude, raw and undeniable. Tsukasa’s expression softened, and before Rui could even react, the dragon-turned-man took a step forward.

Without warning, Tsukasa’s four arms were around him. His massive, strong body enveloped Rui in a sudden, overwhelming embrace. It was not gentle—it was full of emotion, the kind of emotion that came from years of solitude and torment, of being trapped in the form of a monster. But now, in this moment, Tsukasa was free, and he poured that freedom into his hug.

The warmth of Tsukasa’s body, the strength of his hold—it was as if the world itself had been wrapped around Rui. The air was filled with the feeling of something that could no longer be contained, something ancient and powerful. Tsukasa held him tight, his arms trembling with emotion, as though afraid to let go.

“I... I’m free,” Tsukasa murmured into Rui’s ear, his voice hushed but intense. “Thank you, Rui. For this... for allowing me to feel this... again.”

Rui, stunned and caught in the unexpected embrace, felt a strange tightening in his chest. Tsukasa’s grip was firm, unrelenting, and there was an intensity to it that Rui had never experienced before. It was not just the strength of a creature long used to isolation; it was the strength of a being who had just rediscovered trust, someone who had not allowed themselves to feel vulnerable for so long.

Rui’s breath caught in his throat as Tsukasa held him, feeling the pressure of the hug build, but also something tender, something deeply sincere.

For Rui, it was an entirely foreign sensation.

It had been years—too many years—since anyone had embraced him in such a way. The closeness, the rawness, the unspoken depth of this simple act was a stark contrast to everything he’d known. The last time someone had held him like this… it had been a lifetime ago, before the world had hardened his edges, before he had grown used to the loneliness that clung to him like a second skin.

The emotions hit him all at once, a mix of longing, confusion, and gratitude. It wasn’t just Tsukasa’s act of freedom—it was the fact that Tsukasa had entrusted him with his vulnerability. And Rui felt his chest hurting, realizing that for all the years of solitude, for all the walls he had built around himself, there was still a part of him that yearned for this. For the warmth of another. For the comfort of being held.

Tsukasa’s voice, now quieter, reached his ears again. “I didn’t think I’d ever trust anyone again... But you...” His arms tightened, pulling Rui even closer, as if he wanted to fuse their bodies together, erase any trace of separation. “You’re different.”

Rui’s hands hovered at Tsukasa’s back, unsure at first, but then they settled, gently resting on his shoulders. It wasn’t until Tsukasa pulled away slightly, looking down at him with that same, intense gaze, that Rui realized how deeply affected he was by this moment.

For the first time in so long, Rui felt something break within him—something cold and distant, something he hadn’t even realized was there. The dam had cracked, and emotions flooded in like a long-dammed river, rushing with the force of everything he had kept buried.

“I...” Rui tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. “I’m... not used to this.” His words were barely a whisper, more to himself than to Tsukasa.

Tsukasa gave him a small, understanding smile, the intensity of the embrace beginning to soften. “Neither am I,” he murmured softly, his breath warm against Rui’s skin.

They stood there for a long while, the sounds of the wind and the earth blending with the silence between them. Neither of them spoke again, but in that moment, Rui realized something profound—he wasn’t alone anymore. Tsukasa had shared something with him that no one else had, and in return, Rui had found a part of himself that had been missing for far too long.

Rui, still feeling the warmth of Tsukasa’s embrace lingering on his skin, slowly pulled back just enough to look up at him. His eyes were a bit clouded, as he spoke.

“When we go back to the library...” Rui started, but his words trailed off as he saw Tsukasa’s expression shift.

The dragon—no, the man—who stood before him now wasn’t the same as the one who had walked into the library months ago. There was something different in the way Tsukasa carried himself now. His eyes, still full of that ancient wisdom, held a quiet sense of peace, as if he had made his own decision… or found some treasure.

Tsukasa gave a slow, almost wistful smile, his gaze drifting away from Rui as he took in the view of the mountain, the flowers, the life returning to this place he had once called home. His posture was relaxed now, the tension of his past finally seeming to ease, replaced with a deep sense of belonging.

“I don’t think I’ll go back to the library,” Tsukasa said softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of finality. “Not this time.”

Rui’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat as the realization settled in. “But... you said you wanted to be free. And the library... that was where you—”

“I’ve returned to my home,” Tsukasa interrupted gently, his voice almost tender. “This place, the mountain... the life that’s starting again. This is where I belong now.”

Rui stood there, speechless for a moment, his mind racing to process what Tsukasa had said. His thoughts seemed to spin in a thousand different directions, but one thing became clear: Tsukasa had found his peace, his freedom—not in a library, not in hiding, but here, where the dragons had once roamed.

The library had been their refuge, their shared space, where their paths had crossed and begun to intertwine. 

But now, as Tsukasa stood there, looking at the horizon with quiet contentment, Rui realized that the dragon had moved beyond that life.

Beyond him.

Chapter Text

A soft breeze swept across the peak, tugging gently at Rui’s coat. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was full. Of everything they’d said, everything they hadn’t.

Tsukasa didn't look back. He didn't need to.

He was home.

And Rui, standing there beside him, felt a strange mix of ache and peace in his chest. Like the final page of a beloved book.

He exhaled slowly, almost smiling.

“…I suppose,” he whispered to the wind, “this is where your chapter ends?”

The dragon didn’t answer with words. Just a faint smile. A warmth in his eyes.

And for once, Rui didn’t need a story to understand the ending.

As the quiet settled, Rui found himself rooted in place, unable to turn away. His eyes traced the curve of Tsukasa’s shoulders, the way the sunlight caught in the strands of his pale hair, the ease with which he stood in a world that had once wanted him dead.

And then it hit him—slow, creeping, undeniable.

He cared for him. Deeply. More than he'd let himself admit.

The days they'd shared came rushing back in fragments.

The first time Tsukasa tried tea and made a face, only to sip it again like he was determined to understand it.
The way he curled up like a cat in the sunniest patch of the library floor, tail twitching lazily.
That one evening, when Rui had fallen asleep at his desk, and woke up to a blanket on his shoulders and the faint scent of ash and wildflowers.
The gentle, hesitant way Tsukasa had begun to laugh.

He hadn’t seen it then—how those moments settled under his skin. How they softened him.

Maybe it had been there from the start, just tangled up in the panic, the hiding, the exhaustion of keeping Tsukasa safe. He’d been so busy managing the chaos, he hadn’t noticed the calm hiding in the eye of it.

It didn’t hit him all at once. Not like thunder or lightning, not like stories said it should. It came quietly—like breath fogging up a window, soft and slow and inevitable. And Rui, standing there on the edge of the mountain, with Tsukasa just a few steps away, felt it finally settle.

“Oh.”

One syllable. That was all. But it was as if the earth shifted beneath him.

He thought back—
To the way he’d scolded Tsukasa for being loud, reckless, impossible to hide…

To the nights he’d spent re-folding blankets Tsukasa kicked off, making tea he hadn’t asked for, finding books he didn’t even like but thought he might enjoy…
To the times he’d looked at him—really looked—and felt something stir that he’d brushed off as annoyance or worry. But it wasn’t that, was it?

It was warmth. Tenderness. Maybe… even longing. 

And it had been there all along. Hidden between the lines. Pressed into shared silences. Nestled in the smallest of gestures.

That was what made his throat tighten now, his hands curl slightly at his sides.

Because love—if that was what this was—had never been loud for Rui.

It was quiet. Subtle. Patient.

He swallowed. The wind was colder now, or maybe it was his own chest, which had opened too much. But Rui had never been brave for himself. Only for books.

 Until now.

“…Tsukasa.” His voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Can I say something strange?”

The dragon turned, slightly. Just enough to glance at him over his shoulder. His expression was calm, curious. “You’ve probably said stranger.”

Rui huffed a little breath through his nose. That was true. And unfairly comforting.

He looked down at his hands—pale, thin, always busy—and then back up at Tsukasa.

“I think I…” His heart stumbled. He pushed through. “I think I started falling for you somewhere between chapter one and now. Quietly. Like—like ink soaking into a page.”

There was a pause. Not cold. Not rejecting. Just… quiet.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he continued, softer. “It could’ve been when you first broke into the library, or when you insisted on sleeping in my same bed, or when you turned into a dragon and let me touch your scales like it meant something.”

Tsukasa blinked. His eyes were wide—not surprised, exactly. Just full. Full of something Rui couldn’t read yet.

“I just needed you to know,” Rui said. “Even if you’re going back to your world, even if you never felt it too. I needed to say it once, out loud.”

Tsukasa turned fully now, his gaze steady, unshifting. For a long moment, there was only the soft hum of the wind, and Rui felt exposed, too raw, like he had ripped open his own chest and laid it out before someone who might never understand.

“You…” The dragon started, his voice low, hesitant. “You’ve always said strange things. But I think I understand this one.”

Rui felt his breath catch, just a little. He looked up at Tsukasa, wondering what exactly the God was thinking. Was he laughing at him? Pitying him? Or maybe... Tsukasa had heard something in Rui's words that had made a small piece of his own heart stir.

Tsukasa’s eyes softened. He took another step forward, now so close that Rui could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “I never thought someone like you could… care. Not after everything. But you’ve been kind. More than anyone ever has.”

Rui's heart skipped a beat at that. Tsukasa's hands, huge and powerful, moved slowly toward him, but it wasn’t a threatening gesture. It was something else—something cautious, but certain.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Tsukasa continued. “In my world, I was never shown anything like… this. But when you spoke to me like I was more than just a creature—like I was a person—I didn’t know what to do with it.” He paused, watching Rui carefully. “I didn’t know what to do with you.”

There was a pause, thick with emotion, and then Tsukasa smiled, just a little, enough to soften the edges of his words. “Maybe we’re both learning,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “Maybe we both have things we’ve never seen before.”

As Tsukasa stepped back, the space between them widening just slightly, Rui felt a coldness creep in—deeper than any isolation he had felt before. This time, it wasn’t the loneliness of being surrounded by others who couldn’t understand him. No, this time, it was different.

He was going to be alone again, but it wasn’t just that. It was the fact that he had found someone who did understand him, even in the strangest of ways. Tsukasa had seen him, truly seen him. Not just the awkward, quirky librarian. Not just the boy who had lived through too much, who had hidden himself away for too long. No. Tsukasa had seen him as something else—a person, worthy of more than just pity or disdain.

And now, that warmth, that rare and gentle connection, was slipping away.

Rui’s breath faltered, and for a brief moment, he couldn’t quite hold the words back.

 “You’re leaving,” he said, more to himself than to Tsukasa. His voice cracked, but it wasn’t in anger. It was in realization. The thought felt like a weight on his chest, sinking deeper into him with every heartbeat. “I can’t ask you to stay… I won’t. You’ve found your place. But I just… I wanted to say—” He stopped, then sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “I wanted to say, thank you. For showing me that I wasn’t as invisible as I thought.”

Tsukasa’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out, but he didn’t. He knew better. Rui didn’t want to be touched right now. Not like this.

Rui’s gaze dropped to the ground, and for a long moment, the silence between them felt heavy. And for the first time in years, Rui realized that he had to let go. Let go of Tsukasa, and let go of that warmth that had made him feel like he belonged.

But he wasn’t sure how. Not yet.

“And now… you’ll go on with your immortal life. You’ll forget me at some point, right?”

Tsukasa’s gaze softened, the light of the sunset reflecting in his eyes. For a moment, he was still, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface of a rock in his hand—nothing special, just something he had once thought to give Rui, but it seemed so… impersonal now. No, it wouldn’t do. Rui needed something more than a mere object to remember him by.

Rui’s voice had been so filled with resignation, as though he was already preparing himself for the inevitable distance between them. Tsukasa could feel it—the finality of it all. But he wasn’t ready to let Rui go without leaving a piece of himself behind.

With a soft grunt, Tsukasa leaned down, his hands carefully working with something hidden in the folds of his clothing. A moment later, he held out a small, delicate pendant—an intricately carved silver dragon that seemed to shimmer with the faintest trace of magic.

Rui blinked, startled. “What… is this?”

“It’s for you,” Tsukasa said softly, his voice almost shy in contrast to the forceful presence he had held earlier. “Something to remember me by. I won’t forget you. Not ever.” His voice trembled slightly, though Tsukasa quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. “And I hope that when you wear it, you’ll remember that even if we are far apart, you were never invisible to me.”

Rui looked at the pendant, his fingers grazing the smooth metal, tracing the dragon’s form. There was something deeply symbolic about it—about how the dragon, now a piece of art, was so small and yet carried the weight of Tsukasa’s history and essence. He wasn’t just giving Rui a thing; he was giving him a part of himself.

Tsukasa’s eyes never left Rui’s face as he waited for a response, his own heart pounding, unsure of how his gift would be received.

Slowly, Rui took the pendant in his hand, feeling its cool surface against his skin. “I… I don’t know what to say,” Rui admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Tsukasa’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked like the creature who had once been trapped in a cavern, unsure of what love even was. “You don’t need to say anything,” he replied quietly. “Just… keep it with you. When things get difficult, remember that I’m out there, somewhere.”

And though Rui knew Tsukasa would be gone, this gift, this small symbol of their time together, would be all he needed to keep him from slipping back into the shadows.

“...I hope to find you again in my next life, Tsukasa.”

Tsukasa’s body elongated, his bones stretching and reshaping as his wings unfurled in a grand arc. A low rumble echoed through the ground as his scales gleamed beneath the fading sunlight. His dragon form was vast, majestic, a being that seemed to belong more to the sky than to the earth.

Rui stepped back, heart tightening as Tsukasa's great wings beat once, twice, before the ground beneath them trembled with the force of his takeoff. The dragon’s eyes—now molten amber—met his, a final glance filled with something indescribable. A promise, perhaps.

With one last surge of power, Tsukasa leaped into the air, soaring upward into the vastness of the sky. His silhouette became a dark shape against the setting sun, and soon, he disappeared into the clouds, leaving only the sound of the wind in his wake.

Rui stood there, staring up at the empty sky, the pendant clutched tightly in his hand, a piece of the dragon now forever his.

Five years had passed since Tsukasa had soared into the sky, leaving Rui behind, in the same place where it all began. The passage of time had softened the pain of his departure, but there was still something lingering, a hollow space in his chest that neither routine nor the constant bustle of his life could fill.

Rui was now in the same library, but he didn’t feel like the solitary, distant boy he once was. He had found some peace in his life. His work as a librarian remained his sanctuary, his haven of books, but it had changed him somehow. Maybe he learned to accept he’s alone, but not lonely.

As he scanned a shelf in the library, his gaze fell upon an old book, one he had found in a dusty corner years ago. He didn’t know why, but he picked it up, the worn cover faded from years of use. When he opened it, an aged page greeted him, and an illustration of a dragon stared back at him—long, imposing, with wings spread over a landscape Rui had seen in his dreams.

Something stirred inside him. He could feel it, that sensation, that familiarity. As if, for a moment, Tsukasa was there, in some way.

Rui sighed, setting the book down. Outside, the sun began to set, painting the sky with red and golden hues. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and, in his mind, he saw Tsukasa soaring once again. The dragon who, though now far away, would always remain in his heart.

Five years later, he had not forgotten a thing. And, in a way, he never wanted to.

That single earring was there to remind him, he's not unloved. There's someone, out there, that thanks Rui for saving him.

That strange satisfaction... feels nicer than any kind of human approval. 

He changed a life... that weirdo, changed a life for the better.

As the sun set once more, Rui realized that the story of him and Tsukasa was, in many ways, like the tale of Beauty and the Beast. A tale as old as time, bittersweet and strange, full of surprises and changes that neither one had prepared for. A journey neither of them could have imagined, yet one that, without a doubt, had shaped them both. And though their paths had diverged, Rui knew that the sun would rise again, as sure as the love they had shared.

The beauty of it all was that, despite the distance and the time that had passed, there would always be something there, something that never truly faded. 

That was the magic of their short tale.