England, Wars of the Roses. A White Rose commander with no allegiance to any cause captures the Red Rose prince on the battlefield — and does not kill him.
Held in a quiet castle with no chains and no explanation, Yugi begins to wait for the man named Seto to appear each evening. When Seto takes him to a small town and they spend several days as nothing more than two men, something shifts between them that neither names and neither can undo.
Their destinations were never the same. They knew that from the beginning.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 分かたれる道
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
01: The Battlefield
The sky was white.
Not clouds — smoke. Yugi understood this even as he ducked beneath an oncoming blade and struck the opposing sword aside in the same motion. The impact rang through his arm. He had lost count of how many times that had happened.
The battlefield had been thick with the smell of blood since morning.
The White Rose has the advantage, the messenger had said. Not in numbers, not in terrain — they were being pushed back by sheer momentum.
Lancaster's soldiers were holding on desperately, but Yugi could see it: the slow backward drift of their feet, the wavering edges of the formation. A battlefield always takes on a particular shape just before something — or someone — breaks.
By any sound strategy, the enemy would move now. But there was no margin left to meet them.
Joey shouted.
"Your Highness, the right flank——!"
"I see it."
Yugi answered shortly and spurred his horse. The right wing had already been struck from the side; the chaos there was edging past the point of recovery.
Hold the center and re-form the right. Simple enough in words. Whether the pieces he had left could actually do it was another question.
He would not say it was impossible. He never had.
Yugi tightened his grip on his sword. The exhaustion came from somewhere deep in his hips — not the weight of armor, but the weight of accumulated hours pressing down on him. He had been moving since before dawn. He could not remember the last time he had drunk any water.
Even so, none of that was reason enough to stop.
Not until this war is over.
That single thing — only that — was what kept Yugi standing. Not for a throne, not for honor.
He simply wanted to end it. These days of blood and smoke, he wanted them finished. He had believed, for as long as he could remember, that he had been born for exactly that.
The screams on the right flank grew louder.
Something shifted at the heart of the fighting. Yugi sensed it through sound before anything else.
Amid the roar of battle, something moved with an incongruous stillness. The soldiers around it fell back without seeming to know why, and at the center of that hollow space—
The White Rose crest. But something was different. Even their own men were keeping their distance, giving this figure an unspoken berth.
Yugi narrowed his eyes from horseback.
Silver-white armor, close to pure white. Tall. The sword-work had nothing wasted in it — or rather, it contained only what was necessary.
The temperature of it was unreadable. Not battle-fury, not killing intent. A strangely cold way of moving. Not the motion of someone who enjoyed this, nor of someone driven by duty. Simply: the removal of obstacles. That kind of motion.
Who is that. Could it possibly be——
There was no time to finish the thought. The right wing finally broke.
The broken right wing swept over Yugi's escort like a wave.
He heard Joey shout — Your Highness — and then the rest was swallowed by the noise. Yugi cut through the surging White Rose soldiers, deflected, dodged.
By the time he noticed, there was no horse in sight. No familiar banner.
He was isolated.
It took him less than a moment to read the situation, but that moment cost him. The encirclement tightened. White Rose soldiers pressed in around him, drawing a half-circle, driving him back.
No cliff, no trap. A wall of men. Disciplined. Not improvised — this had been planned from the start.
Before he could think who, the wall split open.
Through the gap came that white armor.
On foot, not horseback. Moving through the thick of the battle as though taking a stroll. His sword was sheathed. That, more than anything, sharpened Yugi's guard.
"Stop."
Yugi said it. His voice came out steadier than he expected.
The man did not stop.
The distance closed. Ten paces. Seven. Five.
Yugi raised his sword. His exhausted arm found the strength regardless.
He met the man's eyes. Blue. At this range they were different from what he had seen across the field — up close, those eyes held almost nothing that could be called emotion.
No hostility. No contempt. No heat. Only eyes that were looking at something.
Then, for just a moment, they seemed to take on a color when they landed on Yugi.
Perhaps his imagination. He held the gaze, but the man was simply — looking at him.
They exchanged swords three times.
The first: Yugi read his opponent's line of attack. He read it correctly. But his arm, his legs, fell behind by half a beat. Fatigue had opened a paper-thin gap between judgment and body.
The second: his footing was broken. He recovered, barely.
There was no third.
It was strength. Not technique, not speed — pure strength drove him through. His sword was knocked away. A step in. Before he knew it his right arm was wrenched up behind him, his body forced low to the ground, a cold blade resting against his throat.
He could not move.
Yugi gritted his teeth. He thought the end had come — but before that came confusion.
He's not going to kill me.
At this angle, there was no reason not to. Yet the blade only rested there, as if measuring his breathing.
Then, the sound of a sword being sheathed.
"Don't resist."
A voice came down from above him. Low, flat — with something almost amused in it.
"I won't kill you."
"……Why."
Yugi forced the word out. His arm ached. More than that, the incomprehension ached. Kill him now and it would be the greatest deed on this battlefield. And everything would end.
But the man did not answer. Instead he eased the hold, just slightly — though not enough to allow escape.
Yugi was pulled upright and brought face to face with him.
Close. At this distance he noticed, despite himself, that the man's features were almost absurdly fine for a battlefield. He would have preferred not to notice.
"What is your purpose."
Before becoming a prisoner, he needed at least that much.
Information? Or something else.
The man's lips moved, the smallest amount. He may have smiled. If he had, Yugi could not see what was funny.
"…Do not worry. It is not, at least, the victory of the White Rose."
Whispered directly into his ear, for Yugi alone.
Yugi looked into the man's eyes. He searched for something and found nothing he could read. Those blue eyes were quiet — yet they were certainly watching him. Not the battle, not the map, not the throne. Him.
"Shall I ask your name."
Now it was Yugi's turn to answer. He hesitated a moment, then decided there was no reason to.
"Do you need to?"
"No. I have a fair idea already."
"……Yugi will do."
He did not say Your Highness. No need.
The man narrowed his eyes with something that looked like interest.
"Seto."
That was the beginning.
02: The Castle
The castle was quiet.
It was not what Yugi had imagined.
There was no demand for surrender, no humiliation of being displayed as a prisoner, no cold appraisal of his worth as a bargaining piece.
Seto's castle was not large, but it was well ordered. The room given to Yugi faced south, and in the afternoons the light came in long and low.
No chains. No shackles. Only the fact that he could not go outside.
Few people served under Seto, and those who attended to Yugi were exactly what was necessary — no more.
They did not call him by name. Nor did they call him the Red Rose Prince.
They did not meet his eyes. They brought meals in silence and left in silence. No one asked what he was, and no one told him what he was.
Perhaps there is no one in this castle who knows who I am.
When that thought came to him, Yugi felt something strange. Not relief. Something more unsteady than that — closer to having no ground beneath his feet.
Seto appeared most often at dusk.
He would enter without knocking, pull out a chair, and sit. As though it were his own room, not Yugi's.
It irritated Yugi, though he could not quite work out how to be irritated about it. Perhaps he should be shouting at him as an enemy — but Seto had never treated him as one, not from the very beginning.
"The food."
On the second evening, Seto checked in a few short words.
"I'm eating."
"Sleep."
"……Why do you ask about such things."
Seto did not answer. Instead he looked at Yugi — the same look as on the battlefield. Eyes that were simply watching something.
Three days passed.
Every evening Seto appeared, left a few words behind, and went.
Questions that seemed to be checking on Yugi's condition, inconsequential remarks, and then — silences that seemed to be waiting for Yugi to speak.
Those silences were what Yugi found most difficult to handle.
Seven days passed.
That evening, when Seto appeared as usual, Yugi spoke first.
"I may be wrong, but — are you trying to win me over?"
He thought, even as the words left him, that they were perhaps too direct. But Seto's expression did not change. He regarded Yugi for a moment, then spoke.
"Close, but not quite. …I am courting you."
There was not a trace of hesitation.
Yugi lost his reply entirely. He had been about to say we are enemies. You have been fighting for the White Rose.
But Seto had said from the very first that he held no loyalty to the White Rose. Which meant Seto had never had any reason to call Yugi an enemy to begin with.
"……That makes no sense. There is nothing in it for you if I come to your side."
"…Is that so."
"Don't say is that so. You must already know that I could never side with the White Rose."
"It's fine. There is time."
Seto said only that, and left for the day.
Ten days in, Yugi had begun to wait for Seto to come to the room.
When he realized it, he was angry with himself. There was no reason to be waiting.
It's only because I have no one else to talk to. That's all it is, he told himself.
Seto had said he was courting him, but in practice his manner was mild.
One evening they simply sat in the same room. Seto was reading something, Yugi was looking out the window.
There was no conversation, and it was not unpleasant. That, more than anything, puzzled Yugi.
From time to time, Seto would take his hand.
Not abruptly. Naturally, in the middle of talking, Seto's hand would come to rest on top of Yugi's where it lay on the table. Yugi did not pull away.
At first, of course, he had. Perhaps he still should have.
But the hand only rested there. Warm, and heavy, saying nothing.
Yugi kept his eyes on the window and did not move.
"You don't have to be so tense."
There was nothing to say back.
Another evening, he touched Yugi's hair. From behind, combing through it gently. Yugi did not turn around. If he turned around, he felt something irrecoverable would happen. He had no basis for that feeling, but he thought it all the same.
He let out a slow breath, easing the stiffness from his shoulders.
"Why do you tell no one."
One evening, Yugi asked.
"Tell them what."
"That you have captured me. If you have me in hand, I am a bargaining piece. For the White Rose as much as for my own people. More than that——"
His head could end this war.
Seto was quiet for a time.
"There is no need."
"You're not ignorant of what I'm worth."
"I know."
"Then——"
"Your worth is mine to decide."
The voice was quiet. But it carried a weight that allowed no argument.
Yugi was at a loss for words. As a prince, he should have been angry. But there was no contempt in what Seto had said. No appraisal, no calculation — at least, none that Yugi could feel.
He was simply looking at Yugi.
As Yugi.
03: The Town
One morning, Yugi said:
"This castle is too cramped."
At some point it had become habit for Seto to take breakfast in Yugi's room. He was sitting across from him when he heard the words, and he went still for just a moment.
"Too cramped?"
"That's what I said."
"That is hardly what a prisoner would say."
His voice was amused, despite the words.
"Have you ever actually treated anyone as a prisoner?"
Seto looked at Yugi. Yugi looked back. Neither gave ground. He knew perfectly well this should not work.
By any reasonable measure, it was an impossible request.
It wasn't only that he had grown tired of the light in this room — though he had — but even so, he could not help saying it.
The corner of Seto's mouth curved.
"Interesting. Give me two days."
Two days later, Seto took Yugi out exactly as he had said he would.
They left before dawn. Unremarkable horses, unremarkable clothes. No attendants, no escort — just the two of them.
At first Yugi suspected a trap. He thought perhaps Seto intended to be rid of him somewhere away from people.
But Seto only rode forward, eyes ahead.
Gradually the castle walls disappeared behind them.
A town appeared in the light of dawn.
Not large. But unmistakably a place where people lived. The smell of baking bread, footsteps on cobblestone, the distant sound of someone laughing.
Yugi had been drifting away from things like this for some time now. In the back and forth between battlefield and castle, he had half-forgotten the texture of a place where people simply lived.
"Here?"
"I have a place I use. Not spacious — but it shouldn't be as cramped as the castle."
It was not sarcasm. By now Yugi understood that Seto did not deal in sarcasm.
The hideaway was a stone house at the edge of town. Unassuming — no sign, no decoration, blending into the streetscape like any other building. Inside it was small, but clean, and from the window you could see the rooftops of the town.
"Is there anyone here?"
"No. No one comes but me."
Yugi decided not to think too carefully about what that meant.
Mornings in the town were different from the castle.
Seto did not stop him from going to the market. Instead he walked beside him. No armor, no crest, nothing — just two men.
At first Yugi could not get used to the strangeness of it. When anyone looked at Yugi, they did not see a prince. When they looked at Seto, they did not see a White Rose commander.
Just two people.
An old man selling produce called out to Seto and asked if he was a traveler passing through. Seto answered shortly: yes. It was not untrue. Seto belonged to no one place, so wherever he was, he was always passing through.
They bought bread. From a stall, still warm. Seto handed it to Yugi as a matter of course.
Yugi took it, equally as a matter of course.
They ate it side by side on the cobblestones.
It was nothing. And yet, strangely, Yugi found he had no words.
Seto was quiet too. The sounds of the town filled the space between them.
In the early afternoon, a child came running and crashed into Yugi's legs. Yugi caught the child by reflex before they could fall. The child looked up at him, then ran off. It was a small thing — but Seto had been watching.
"What."
"Nothing."
Seto looked ahead again. But the side of his face had softened, just slightly.
An expression Yugi had never seen. Something a little undone — nothing like the battlefield, nothing like the castle.
He looks like someone, Yugi thought.
He could not say who. He simply thought it.
Walking along the river in the evening, Yugi asked:
"Are you searching for something?"
Seto's step paused for just a moment. Then he walked on.
"What makes you think so."
"You said the victory of the White Rose is not your purpose. Then you have a different purpose. Anyone who watches how you move can see it. It's the way a person moves when they are looking for something."
Seto was quiet for a time. Only the sound of the river.
"You're not going to answer."
"……You observe closely."
"That isn't an answer."
"No."
Only that. No denial. This man said nothing beyond what was necessary, so it was as close to a confirmation as he ever gave.
Searching for something.
Yugi too was fighting for something. End the war, become king — he had lived toward that single point until today. Seto too was living toward something.
But the something was different.
Yugi felt that as he looked at the river. He did not put it into words. Only, understanding it settled something, made something definite.
It didn't mean anything was wrong. He let out a small breath.
That night, back at the hideaway, Seto lit the fire. Sitting side by side in front of a small hearth was not unlike the evenings in the castle — but it was different.
There were no walls. Whatever had been the last thing remaining inside Yugi had already been dissolving slowly in the air of the town.
"Seto."
Seto turned.
"Are we going into town tomorrow as well?"
Seto looked at Yugi. Then answered, shortly:
"We are. You'll come, won't you."
Yugi gave a small nod.
It was the third night.
They had finished a bottle of wine bought at the market. Seto held his drink well. Yugi had thought himself reasonably strong, but something about being inside this unfamiliar gentleness made the wine reach him faster than usual.
The fire in the hearth had burned low.
Yugi watched the fire. Seto said nothing. By now Yugi knew that this man always waited for him to speak first — and once he knew that, the silences stopped being difficult.
"It's strange."
Yugi said it. His voice came out like he was talking to himself.
"What is."
"The war feels far away."
It truly did. The noise of the battlefield, the red and white banners, Joey's voice — none of it reached here. In the smell of cobblestone and river water and wine, there was no shadow of war.
"Do you want to forget it?"
"I don't think I can."
Yugi looked at Seto.
"Only — right now it's far away. That's all."
Seto was watching him. The same eyes as always. But tonight there was something different in them — something Yugi had never seen on the battlefield or in the castle. Something that lived closer in.
He felt he had seen this color somewhere before.
Seto reached out.
Touched Yugi's cheek.
He had been touched before, in the castle — hair, hands. But this was different.
Different, Yugi thought. Because there was no distance left.
In the light of the hearth, Seto's face was right there.
He did not pull away.
He searched inside himself for a reason to, and found none.
Seto moved slowly. He always did. This man rushed nothing — he moved at his own pace, carefully, in a way that made clear he would stop if Yugi said no. That was how he drew close.
Yugi did not close his eyes.
He held Seto's gaze and did not move.
The color of his eyes the first time we met — had I been wrong about that? Something like that was drifting through his mind.
Their lips touched.
Soft. That was all he thought. That a man who carried a sword that had cut people down on the battlefield could touch someone like this — somewhere far away, he thought that.
And then, they parted.
I am courting you — he remembered Seto saying that, hazily.
Seto moved after Yugi took hold of his collar.
The meaning of that hand pulling him in — Seto did not mistake it. Slowly, but with certainty, he answered.
A little while after, Seto drew back slightly and looked at Yugi. His eyes asked a question.
Yugi did not nod. But he did not look away.
That, it seemed, was enough.
Their lips met again. This time deep, and slow.
Yugi reached out without thinking and pressed his fingers into Seto's shoulder. He had not known until now that this man's warmth could feel like this.
Seto moved without lifting his lips, his hand finding its way beneath Yugi's cloak, under the hem of his shirt, touching bare skin. Fingers traced across his stomach, moving slowly upward.
A small sound escaped him. Seto did not miss it, and repeated the motion of his fingers, gentle and deliberate — tracing circles with his thumb, a light pinch.
Yugi's body grew warm, his hips rising naturally. Seto's eyes narrowed, watching him with quiet satisfaction. Still no words. Instead, the hand that touched him said everything.
Seto guided Yugi gently onto the bed and settled him there. The room's light was soft, casting their two shadows long across the floor.
Seto's eyes found Yugi, and without words, asked permission in his gaze.
When Yugi gave the smallest nod, Seto's hands began to move. Everything was slow — as though he were handling something irreplaceably precious.
Seto knelt quietly before Yugi. The eyes that looked up at him were different from anything Yugi had seen on the battlefield or in the castle. Eyes fixed on something with complete attention. Eyes that held only Yugi.
A hand touched his leg.
The lacing at the front of the doublet was loosened. The fabric gave way, opening. Seto's fingers traced along the edge.
That alone changed the way Yugi breathed.
Next, the points were undone.
The laces connecting hose to doublet, untied one by one from around his waist. Each time Seto's fingers touched his hips, warmth passed between them.
The moment the last lace came free, Yugi turned his face away.
Then the doublet was removed.
The fabric fell away like water. Seto set it on the floor and turned his eyes to Yugi's skin.
Being looked at — unsettling. Not appraisal. Something else entirely, something different. Seto's lips touched his shoulder, drawn there as though pulled.
Yugi's throat moved, without meaning to.
Seto's fingers reached for the lacing of the codpiece.
Untying the knots one by one. Pausing to read Yugi's reaction, stopping, then continuing. As though peeling away a shell, one layer at a time.
The moment the fabric came away, Yugi tried to close his eyes. But he could not. Because Seto looked up at him at precisely that moment.
Their eyes met, without warning.
Seto said nothing. He only placed his hand on Yugi's hip. It was warm — and something inside Yugi came loose, just a little.
His fingers moved to the garter.
They touched the back of his knee. Yugi's body gave a small tremor. Seto stopped, and waited without rushing for the trembling to pass. Then slowly, he untied the lace.
His fingers hooked into the hose.
From the right leg, he drew the fabric down gradually. His fingers slid along the line of the leg. Yugi tried to steady his breathing, and could not. The left leg, too — the same care, the same deliberateness, set down on the floor.
Last, the braies were removed.
Seto's hands went still. Still, and then he looked at Yugi. Looked at all of him.
For the first time, Yugi understood what it meant to be seen. It was not embarrassment. Something deeper, something with more roots — a trembling in a place far inside.
Seto drew closer.
As though to hold him. As though to cover him. Low and quiet, he whispered at his ear.
"Beautiful."
Only that.
An unadorned word — but Yugi already knew this man did not lie. So the word reached him directly, without deflection.
Yugi closed his eyes.
Seto's warmth was everything. The fire in the hearth burned small. The night of the town continued, quietly.
From here, there were no more words.
Seto's hand touched Yugi's chin and tilted his face upward.
Leaving him nowhere to retreat — but without force. Yugi did not retreat.
Their lips met again.
Deeper than the first time. He could simply let Seto lead. It was the movement of someone who knew where they were going. Yugi followed, naturally.
Weight settled over him, and his back met the bed.
The fire in the hearth burned quietly.
Seto did not hurry.
He never did. On the battlefield, in the castle, in this town. This man had his own pace, and did not adjust it for anyone.
But tonight was different. He was adjusting it for Yugi. Moving while listening to Yugi's breath, waiting for the tension in Yugi's body to ease.
With each touch, Yugi came to know his own outline.
There was sensation in places he did not usually feel. Wherever Seto's hand touched, warmth gathered. That warmth spread, little by little.
He was not afraid.
That surprised Yugi, slightly. From the very night he had been captured, he had never feared this man.
But he had thought tonight might bring a different kind of fear. He could not say why. Yet Seto's touch, from beginning to end, never left Yugi behind.
That there was a way of touching that did not leave someone behind — Yugi had not known that.
Seto whispered something.
Not words. A low sound that did not become words. But it reached Yugi — not as meaning, but as sound. That this man's voice could become like this. He was learning it for the first time.
Yugi shivered slightly and closed his eyes.
Seto's warmth was everything. A weight was there. A real, certain weight. His body knew this was not a dream.
In the night of a cobblestone town, by the light of a hearth fire, Seto and Yugi were here. That was all there was, right now.
They were alike, somehow. He thought that.
Both living for a purpose — that much was the same. The purposes were different. When the war ended, Yugi would put down roots here. Seto would go somewhere. He had known that. And knowing it, they were here tonight.
So all of it was real.
Seto's hand touched Yugi's bared skin, stroking the inner thigh, moving gradually inward. That place was already warm, already faintly slick.
"May I touch you?"
Seto's voice was low, barely a whisper.
You already are, Yugi thought — but he could only nod. Seto's fingers enclosed him gently at the center, moving slowly, the fingertips grazing the tip.
"Nn……"
Yugi's body shivered, a sweet sensation running through him entire. His breath broke, and his fingers clutched at Seto's hair as though to hold on.
Seto pressed further.
He parted Yugi's legs, stroking around him gently, easing the tension there.
"Ah……"
Seto felt Yugi's body go rigid. He whispered, lips grazing the earlobe in a soft bite.
"Relax. I won't hurt you."
He slicked his fingertips with oil and pressed in slowly. He felt Yugi's warmth close around him, and waited, still and quiet.
As Yugi's breathing evened, the intrusion deepened, little by little.
His body melted with heat, sounds escaping him. Each time Seto's fingers traced a sensitive place, his hips trembled.
Yugi caught a glimpse of Seto's expression — somehow soft — and looked away.
Seto's fingers explored gently inside him, finding each sensitive place with precision. A second finger joined, moving to open him carefully.
Yugi's body flushed, hot enough that he thought: I'm burning.
His inner walls responded without his knowing, tightening around the fingers. At the same time, Seto's other hand enclosed him from outside. Warm.
From within and without, Seto's fingers lit up every sensation with sharp clarity.
"Ha……ah……"
Yugi's voice trembled, his hips shifting without his meaning them to. His breath scattered, his vision blurred. Seto did not stop — gentle, but relentless — pressing Yugi's body to its limit.
The two sensations converged, and he reached his peak. Yugi's body shuddered, white heat spilling over. In the aftermath he breathed through his shoulders, his chest heaving.
Seto drew his fingers out slowly and stroked Yugi's body with care. He pressed his lips to his damp forehead, combing through his hair. Then, his eyes on Yugi's, he whispered low:
"I'd rather you not tire out on me just yet."
At those words, Yugi felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He had not known this man's voice could sound so sweet.
The hand that stroked him slid down his back and came to rest at his hips. Yugi let out a breath and released the last of his tension.
Seto did not let that moment pass. He brought his body over Yugi's, pressing his own heat slowly, deliberately, into the deepest place.
Seto's heat was, unexpectedly, scalding.
"Ha——ah——!"
Yugi's body received him, closing around him as though to draw him in. Seto moved with care, reading each of Yugi's reactions as he sank deeper.
At the deepest point, Seto stilled for a moment. He felt Yugi's inner walls pulse with heat, and his own breath faltered, just slightly.
He held Yugi's gaze, drew back slowly, then moved against him again. Unhurried, but certain — Yugi's body trembled.
"Nn……nnnh……"
Sounds escaped Yugi. Each time Seto's heat pressed inward, a sharp pleasure climbed his spine; each time it withdrew, a sweet loss ran through him, only to be filled again.
The pleasure did not break. Yugi's body melted with warmth, becoming liquid.
His hips moved on their own. As though they already knew how to receive him.
Seto kept his rhythm, shifting his angle at times to find the most sensitive places. His eyes were strange — tender, and yet taking a quiet pleasure in each response.
Yugi's breath came in fragments. He pressed his fingers into Seto's back without thinking, his nails leaving marks. Sweat mingled between them, a wet sound filling the room. His body approached its limit, pleasure building toward a peak.
At last, Yugi's body shuddered. Heat overflowed, and he reached his second peak.
The sound would not be held back — a sweet cry fell from his throat. Seto did not stop, following Yugi gently through the trembling aftermath.
"……Are you ready?"
Low, laced with breath.
Yugi opened his eyes and gave a small nod. That was enough.
Seto's movement quickened. Several deep strokes, and he released himself.
Something hot spread through the deepest part of him.
Seto's body came to rest over Yugi's, covering him. Steadying his breath, Seto stroked Yugi's hair gently, and was still.
How much time had passed, he did not know.
Yugi was in Seto's arms. The ceiling was above him. The hearth had burned low. The sounds of the town came to him from somewhere distant — someone laughing, the wind, the running of the river. The world went on. As though nothing had happened.
But inside Yugi, something had changed.
It did not feel like change. It felt more like something had finally settled into place. Something that had been shifting for a long time had, tonight, gone quiet for the first time.
He had come to know something.
He held it now, for the first time, as his own. He had not been searching for it. The time he had spent not knowing may have been long. But now he simply knew. He had come to know it.
Seto's hand moved. Combing through his hair, the same as he had done in the castle. But tonight there was nothing between them.
It struck him as strange. Strange — and yet he could not find words for what exactly was strange.
A prisoner, in the arms of the man who had captured him. Was that what was strange? But Yugi no longer had any sense of being a prisoner.
Seto did not have the face of a man who had captured someone. He never had, not from the beginning.
They had simply been beside each other.
"Seto."
He called his name, but there was no answer. The hand, however, did not stop. Which meant he was listening.
"You……"
He started to say something and stopped.
"What."
"……Nothing."
There were no words to follow with. Calling his name had been enough. That on this night, in this place, he had been able to call this man's name. Only that.
The hearth gave one last flare of brightness, then dimmed.
The night of the town deepened.
The chest of a man who was, in some way, like him.
Knowing their paths led different places — and being here tonight regardless, only here.
He woke first, in the morning.
Light came in through the window. The morning sun in this town was softer than in the castle. He could not say why. They were under the same sky, and yet the quality of the light here felt different.
Seto was still asleep.
Yugi watched his face for a while. Those eyes that were always looking at something — when they were closed, the face beneath them seemed entirely different. An ordinary man's face, appropriate to his age, nothing more.
The thought that he alone knew this face, in this moment, brought on a feeling he could not name. So he decided not to think about it.
He got up and opened the window a crack. A baker's boy was running across the cobblestones below. He had seen that boy yesterday too — perhaps he ran every morning.
So this is what an ordinary morning is.
It was something far removed from Yugi's life. For as long as he could remember, the air had always carried the presence of war. He had learned to bear the Lancaster name before he had learned to hold a sword.
He had never had mornings like this — standing at a window, simply watching.
So this is real.
A real morning, real light, real stillness. And the man in this room — for Yugi, he was real too.
Only.
His reason spoke, quietly and without hurry.
You cannot leave England. Not until you are king — you must take root in this land. That is your purpose, and it is why you are who you are.
And this man will go.
Where, he did not know. For what, he did not know. But he already understood that Seto was not a man who stayed.
So he would not touch that. Touching it would change nothing. Nothing could be changed. Then it was better left untouched.
Seto had not touched it either.
He knew that. That man knew too. He knew, and was here regardless — so tonight, that was what it was.
On the fourth day, Seto stopped in the market.
In front of a spice seller. He exchanged a few words with the shopkeeper and bought a small paper parcel.
"What is that?"
"In the region where I was born, it's used as a simple medicine."
He did not say where that region was. Yugi did not ask.
He only thought: this man has a home, somewhere.
An obvious thing. And yet from the moment he had first seen Seto on the battlefield, he had seemed somehow placeless. A man with no roots anywhere, free to go anywhere. That man was now walking beside him, carrying a small paper parcel.
"Do you know anywhere good to eat in this town?"
Seto asked.
"I should be asking you. It's your hideaway, isn't it?"
"I was always alone here."
Only that. Only that — but it sat heavily in Yugi. I was always alone, he had said.
"What about there?"
Yugi pointed to a small place along the river. A shop he had passed yesterday that had smelled promising.
"If you're choosing, then that one's fine."
They went in together and ate together. The proprietress spoke to them cheerfully. Half in jest, she asked if they were a couple.
Yugi was momentarily at a loss. He was not, at any rate, dressed as a woman.
Seto answered first.
"Travelling companions."
The proprietress laughed, said how sweet then, and went away.
Yugi looked at Seto. Seto was looking at the food.
Travelling companions.
Not a lie. Not quite accurate either, but not a lie. In this moment, that was what they were — not heading anywhere in particular, not having come from anywhere in particular, simply two people here.
That was permitted, for now.
On the fifth night, Seto called his name.
"Yugi."
Only that. Nothing following it, just the name, spoken.
"What?"
Seto did not answer. He only drew Yugi closer.
Yugi did not resist. He rested his head against Seto's shoulder and watched the fire in the hearth. Watched it burn smaller, in silence.
This is happiness, Yugi thought.
He hesitated over whether he was allowed to put that name to this feeling — but there was no other word for it. It was happiness. Only that, nothing more. No need to list the reasons. It was warm, and quiet, and this man was beside him. Only that.
He knew it was enough, so he did not want more.
So tonight, he was simply here.
From the very bottom of himself, simply here.
04: The Parting, and After
Seven days had passed since returning to the castle.
The feeling of the town was still in his hands. The hardness of cobblestone, the warmth of bread, the sound of the river, the weight of Seto's cloak. He felt that if he closed his eyes he could return there. Even knowing he could not.
Seto was unchanged in the castle too. He appeared at dusk, stayed beside him, touched him. But something was gradually, quietly different.
He did not say it aloud. But he understood. Seto's eyes, from time to time, were looking somewhere far away. Eyes that were searching — either closing in on something, or having come to know that what they sought was beyond reach. One or the other.
Either way, the meaning was the same.
This man is leaving soon.
Yugi said nothing. There was nothing to say. He had no words to hold him back. No right to hold him back either.
He had known from the beginning. Their purposes were different — that had been told to him, in that very first moment.
Seto's purpose was not the end of the war. Then Seto's destination was somewhere other than where Yugi was going.
That single, small difference was unbearably heavy in the light before dawn.
On the morning of the eighth day, the door opened.
Seto had never come in the morning except for breakfast. So Yugi looked up.
Seto was standing there. Wearing his cloak. Dressed for travel.
Yugi understood immediately.
He asked nothing. There was nothing to ask. The moment he saw Seto's face, he understood everything. That whatever Seto sought could not be found in this place.
So Seto was leaving. That was all it was. No reason would be given. Perhaps it was not that he chose not to give one — perhaps this man simply did not have the words for it.
Seto came to stand before him.
Closer than usual. Or perhaps the same distance as always. Only today, that distance carried a different weight than it ever had before.
Yugi looked at Seto.
Seto looked at Yugi.
Those eyes. The eyes he had first seen on the battlefield. Eyes that were simply looking at something. But now they were moving. Slightly, and yet unmistakably. It was the first time Yugi had ever seen Seto's eyes waver.
Seto opened his mouth.
"Yugi. It is time to return to the fight."
——Henry Yugi Tudor.
He did not say it aloud, but the words were there. Certainly there. The name that had not been spoken once since the night of his capture — on this morning alone, it existed somewhere in the air between them.
Yugi tried to say something.
The words were not there.
He had wanted to ask why he had been captured. Why he had been treated like this. Why he had been taken to the town. Why his name had been called. Why——
But even if he asked why.
Even if an answer came back.
Would anything change?
Nothing would. Their destinations had been different from the start.
Seto would go somewhere, and Yugi would go on fighting here.
Until I am king, I will not leave this land. That was something Yugi had chosen. Not a role given to him by someone else — a purpose he had chosen for himself.
So he would not hold him back. To do so would be to deny the way this man lived — a man who lived for his purpose. That, above all else, he did not want to do.
Seto opened his mouth once more.
"May there be light in your future."
Yugi's throat would not move.
May there be light — he had been prayed for. And in that future, this man would not be present. Seto knew that himself, and still he said it.
Seto's hand touched Yugi's cheek, once.
The same touch as on the night in the town. A touch that confirmed something — but this time, a touch that already knew it would let go after confirming.
It let go.
Seto turned on his heel.
Yugi watched his back.
He tried to call out — Seto — but it would not become a sound. If it became a sound, he felt something would break.
That back, receding with its eyes fixed on something far ahead. He did not want to break that image, that moment.
Clack — a single sound at his feet. By the time he took the step forward, the door had already closed.
There was no sound of a lock.
Yugi stood for a while, looking at the door.
He never understood why he had been captured. He never understood why he had been released. He never learned, until the very end, what Seto's purpose had been.
Even so, there were things he knew.
That morning in the town had been real. The cobblestone, the warmth of the bread, the sound of the river. The weight of Seto's hand, the lips that had touched his, the fact of being called by his name. That night when he had thought: this is happiness — all of it.
All of it had been real ——.
No one could take it away.
No matter where Seto went, no matter what he was searching for, no matter what purpose unknown to Yugi he was living for — that time had certainly existed.
Yugi took the sword Seto had left.
He put on his armor.
When he opened the door, light fell across the castle corridor. Morning light. Harder than the light of the town, carrying the smell of war.
The way out that he had been shown was already in his head. Yugi began to walk.
It was time to return to the fight.
With the back of that man — who had been, in some way, like him — held quietly in his chest.
Yugi became king.
It was a long fight. Even after Seto left, the war with the White Rose continued.
The White Rose, having lost that singular, unplaceable weight, was still formidable. Yugi fought, and lost, and stood back up, and fought again. Joey was beside him. There were companions. Even so, in the solitary hours before dawn, Yugi always returned to the same place.
The cobblestone town. The sound of the river. The smell of bread.
Just a little more, Yugi thought.
Fight a little more and it will end. Hold on a little more and dawn will come. He kept that just a little more in his chest, the way he kept Seto's words.
Seto had not said it. But for some reason Yugi believed he would have. That man, who lived for his purpose — he would have kept walking, saying just a little more. Yugi believed that.
So he walked.
There was something like grief, something like loss. He had not forgotten. He was not looking away.
Only — when he was alone in the morning light, even that parting seemed beautiful to him.
Because it seemed beautiful, the sorrow grew distant.
And as it grew distant, he could move forward.
That must be how people grow strong, he decided to believe. Not by forgetting — but by keeping something beautiful, tucking it away deep in the chest and carrying it there.
The seasons turned. Winter would come before long.
Not the smoke of war, not the white of the White Rose. Only snow, quietly dyeing the world. Before that came, he would go just a little further.
And so, Yugi became king.
Several months after his coronation.
Yugi went out on a royal visit. A king's inspection — observing the lives of the people, surveying the state of the towns. A natural duty.
He traveled with his attendants, making his way through several towns.
He arrived at that town in the early afternoon.
An unremarkable place. Neither large nor small. Stone houses lining the streets, a river running through, a market.
His attendants went ahead, and Yugi dismounted.
His foot touched the cobblestone — and in that instant.
He could not move, more than he had expected.
It was not that he had been unprepared. He had carried it in his head as one of the towns on the inspection route, known it as a place on a map.
He had known it was that town.
So he had come. He thought he could. As a king, as a duty, only that much.
Yugi let out the breath he had been holding. Because nothing had changed.
Nothing had changed. The cobblestone was the same.
Of course it was — stone does not change.
But this hardness was the same hardness as that morning.
Everything came flooding back through the soles of his feet.
They bought bread. Walked side by side. A child came running and crashed into his legs. He listened to the sound of the river.
Are you searching for something, he had asked. No answer had come back.
Travelling companions, Seto had said. The proprietress laughed.
The fire in the hearth burned smaller and smaller. And then, and then——
Everything came pouring in.
"Your Majesty."
An attendant spoke, and he looked up.
"It's nothing. Let us continue."
Yugi took one step forward. Straight ahead, as a king.
But the soles of his feet felt the cobblestone with every step, and his eyes kept finding the town.
He passed in front of the market.
There was a spice seller, but whether it was the shop where Seto had stopped, he could no longer tell.
Yet a similar shop was certainly there. Only that was enough to move something in his chest.
He came out along the river.
The sound of water. The same sound. Whatever the season, the river ran with the same sound. Yugi stood and looked at the river for a while. He had his attendants wait a short distance away.
I have been waiting, he understood, simply and honestly.
It was a feeling without words. He had not known he had been waiting so keenly.
He did not think Seto was coming back.
He did not know where he was. Did not know if he was alive. Did not know if he had found what he was searching for, or was still searching.
Not knowing any of it — and yet knowing all of it.
He had been waiting for this town.
This town, entire, was a precious season.
Those few days when he had been no one — the cobblestone, the wine, the fire in the hearth, Seto's warmth, the time before he became king when Yugi was simply Yugi — all of it, whole.
Yugi looked up at the sky, narrowing his eyes. He felt it with his whole body. Because by now it was everywhere, spilling over.
——He was here.
Seto was throughout the town.
Not there, and yet — there.
Yugi brought his gaze back to the river, and then closed his eyes for just a short while.
May there be light in your future, Seto had said.
There had been light. He had become king in the light.
He had ended the war. And now the people were living their ordinary mornings. The baker's boy was running. The proprietress was laughing. Those things were certainly the future Yugi had chosen.
Perhaps Seto's prayer had reached him. If the prayer was light, then the light was——
He took his thinking that far, and let out a small breath. When he opened his eyes, a clear autumn sky.
The river ran. The sky was high. Winter was coming soon.
He thought, almost without meaning to: just a little more.
He wanted to stay here just a little longer.
But a king has duties. His attendants are waiting. The people, the town, this country — they are waiting for Yugi.
That was the destination Yugi had chosen.
Different from Seto's destination.
It had been different from the very beginning. And yet there had been a time when their paths crossed, and the crossing had been real, and because it had been real it was still here, spilling over everywhere.
Yugi turned on his heel.
And took his first step forward again. Straight ahead, as a king.
With his feeling for that man — who had been, in some way, like him — left quietly in the light of a precious season.
