fic for cutselvage

[nino-mod.livejournal.com]

For: cutselvage
From: kamja

Title: Non-Speakers Anonymous
Pairing/Focus: Ohmiya
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: Nino must stay silent for 7 years to break a curse. He ends up meeting others who can’t or don’t want to talk -- including a beach inhabitant named Ohno.
Notes: This story is a combination of a few different ideas submitted by cutselvage - magical AU, “getting together”, epistolary and some schoopmy-ness just for good measure. I hope you enjoy it! Special thanks to my beta for helping me hash out some of the plot details, and for giving me her opinions on various matters. :D


It was three months after his seven older brothers got cursed into swans, and Nino was going out of his mind.

The witch had said, “To reverse the spell, you must stay silent for seven years.”

Nino agreed, because he would do anything for his brothers. Besides, he reasoned that his willpower was good enough to get through it. If those flimsy maidens in the stories could bear with it, certainly he could as well. Then the witch started muttering something about getting a meat pie for lunch, and that was the last he saw of her.

At first it wasn’t so bad. He planted some vegetables in the garden behind his forest cottage. With room and board taken care of, he didn’t have to venture into the nearby city to find a job, which would of course involve speaking. He had the forest animals for company, and a battered lute so he could practice instrumental music, and so it was a pretty good arrangement overall.

However, the inevitable irritation began to set in. When he saw that the deer had gotten into the carrots, he couldn’t swear at them. When he thought of a great melody, he couldn’t sing it. When he woke up in the middle of the night in an existential daze, he couldn’t say, “I am Nino” into the darkness to confirm that he was in fact, Nino.

The worst was when some pretty girl with black hair came by in extreme distress, and all he could do was pat her hand and offer a cup of water. Then she went on her merry way and became a housekeeper for some singing dwarves over on the other side of the river. That was all fine, and he didn’t think much of it when an old woman stopped to ask for directions, but it was certainly frustrating when he later found that girl lying unconscious and couldn’t call for help. If a Nino called for help by waving his arms in the forest but no one saw it, did he really call out at all?

This was why he had existential dreams.

Nino didn’t live in the Deep Wild Woods, so he had postal service. About once a week, the postman would ride by on his horse and drop off a small bunch of advertisements printed on cheap paper. Nino usually hung those on the bent nail in the outhouse without even looking at them, but on this particular morning he was being more existential an usual. It probably had something to do with that prince who came to wake up the black-haired girl. He personally thought the prince was a bit of a prat, but this guy could speak and say stuff like, “My dearest, your hair is as black as a raven’s wing” -- which Nino thought wasn’t clever at all, since a raven’s wing probably had ticks.

So on this particular morning, he stopped and flipped through the mail. Most of it was for phlegm tonics, spells for leaky faucets and discounted trips down to the Marlsburg resort town. However, in between overnight vampire-removal service and talking pencils was a curious bit of pale green paper with the letters NSA printed across the top:


Overenthusiastic fairy godmother made you have roses come out your mouth for every word you speak? Taking a vow of silence to break a spell? Need to practice your miming skills? Sometimes it’s not possible -- and sometimes it’s downright embarrassing -- to speak. Come join the annual meeting for

Non-Speakers Anonymous

Where you don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to!


And on the back was an address in town, and the meeting date for later that month. Nino looked at the flyer for a moment and stuck it on the nail in the outhouse with the other adverts. When he was there doing some business a few days later, however, he read the flyer again. He could talk -- or write -- about his love and dedication to his brothers all day, but when it came down to it, this seven-year thing kind of sucked.

The city was a half-day’s carriage ride away. On the day of the NSA meeting, Nino woke up at the crack of dawn. Armed with some money and a notepad, he walked to the village nestled just outside the forest and managed to get a ride from a farmer with minimal confusion and embarrassment. It was actually a very nice ride; the farmer smoked his pipe and didn’t talk much, while Nino looked at the sky (since it was more interesting than the passing fields) and dozed at various intervals. When the cart arrived, Nino hopped off and waved a friendly goodbye, and headed into the bustling city.

It was nothing like the simplicity and the quiet of the forest. Nino had come here often with his brothers, but since the curse he had very few reasons to visit. People were everywhere, and smells were everywhere, and apparently there was some fad over wearing dresses shaped like onions, and so it was difficult to navigate the scene without bumping into some lady’s skirt. Finally, he reached a clean-looking building off the side of a main road which held a florist on the ground level and various apartments up above. Nino looked around for a sign, and saw a white square of paper pinned right by the door leading upstairs:

Non-Speakers Anonymous Annual Meeting, second floor

The inside was just as plain and clean as the outside, and when Nino knocked on the dark wooden door, there was a cheerful, “Come in!”

There were three people inside. Two of them held buckets. A few tables were set up along the sides of the room. Some papers and flyers were stacked on of them, while the other had a seemingly random assortment of buckets, classroom slates and chalk. In the center was a loose circle of chairs. One person, a tall and reedy-looking young man holding a bucket, stood up. He had a very excited look on his face.

“Welcome to Non-Speakers Anonymous! I’m Aiba. Do you need a bucket? Lemme get you a slate...”

As Aiba said this, a steady stream of multi-colored gummy candies poured out of his mouth and into the bucket. They made an amusingly pleasant plonk plonk as they landed. He handed a slate and chalk to Nino, who took them and self-consciously started to write while everyone else watched:

Hi, I’m Nino.

The other two people waved at him from their seats. Aiba quickly ushered him into the circle. As they settled down, they looked at Nino expectantly, who looked back blankly for a moment before realizing that he had to keep writing.

I’m breaking a curse.

Everyone nodded sympathetically. The only person without a bucket started writing something on his slate, which he had balanced on his knees the entire time.

For how long?

Nino wiped his slate clean with his sleeve. Seven years. Just started.

The beginning’s always the hardest. And everyone nodded again. This was the slowest conversation Nino had ever experienced. Between every message was a pregnant pause as everyone waited for the writing to finish.

I’m Jun, the bucket-less person wrote. He had a handsome face and nicely-cut clothes to match. Jun’s dark hair was curled in the latest fashion. He also had a sort of supernatural aura about him, which was explained by what he wrote next. I’m part banshee. Inherited mom’s voice.

“And I’m Ohno,” the other person with a bucket said. A bunch of things fell out of his mouth and into the bucket with a rattling sound. He tilted his bucket towards Nino. Inside were about a dozen seashells, and that sort of said it all.

Jun asked a question about the flyers, and he and Aiba went off to one of the tables to look at them, leaving just Nino and Ohno in the chair circle. They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment before turning to observe Jun and Aiba for lack of anything better to do.

For a member of Non-Speakers Anonymous, Aiba talked a lot. The gummy candies were the size of a trouser button, but his bucket was already more than half-full. Upon reflection, Nino thought that maybe NSA was the only place Aiba could speak without embarrassment. Maybe Aiba was fairly quiet in his day-to-day life, or used some sort of sign language. On the other hand, Ohno seemed like the type who didn’t speak much anyway. He seemed content to just read slates or observe the others.

What’s up with the gummies? Nino finally wrote on his slate and turned it towards Ohno.

They were supposed to be jewels, but Aiba asked for gummies.

Nino gave Ohno a look as if that was absolutely crazy. Ohno shrugged. He had a careless, relaxed demeanor about him. His outfit suggested that it was the nicest thing he owned, and that it was packed away at home 350 days out of the year. He slouched down on his chair and peered into his bucket as if looking for something. He picked out a shell and examined it thoughtfully, turning it in his hands. Nino wiped his slate and wrote something else.

What about you?

I caught a fish, and it begged me to spare its life.

Did you get three wishes? Nino scribbled.

Ohno wrinkled his nose, and it was surprisingly cute. “What do you think?”

Four seashells fell from his mouth and into the bucket with a clatter. Nino could tell by the look on Ohno’s face that it caused him some embarrassment. The latter picked up his slate again.

He told me, I’d get a happy ending.

Nino’s mouth opened in disbelief. He pointed to Ohno’s bucket and made some hand motions to mime them falling to the ground, as if to say, “But...they’re shells. Falling from your mouth.”

Ohno nodded and held up a hand as he scratched out a reply. Yeah, but it’s a job. I sell seashells, by the seashore.

Their eyes met, and after a brief moment, they grinned at each other. It had been a while since Nino shared any jokes with anyone, and it felt pretty good.

Weirdest happy ending ever.

Better than starving.

You bet.

Ohno held up a hand then, and reached into his pocket for a small packet of colored grease pencils. He started doodling on the shell he’d picked out earlier. Nino leaned forward to take a closer look. It was a beach scene, complete with gulls flying in the distance. Ohno held it out when he finished. Nino nodded his approval. It was the sort of tacky tourist thing that people liked. You could charge double for decorated ones.

The door opened, and a stressed-looking man walked in. He waved a greeting to everyone, though he became much shyer when he waved to Nino. The newcomer grabbed a slate from the table where Jun was drawing out a flyer for the next meeting. He sat down across from Nino.

Hi, I’m Sho. Sorry I’m late. He tilted the slate towards Ohno for the last part.

Nino scribbled on his slate. I’m Nino. Are you cursed with silence too?

“No, he can talk.” Aiba sat down next to Ohno, who instantly reached into Aiba’s bucket. He picked out a bunch of orange-flavored candies and threw the rest of them back. Aiba seemed used to it, and ignored him. “When Sho speaks, gold coins fall out.”

Nino’s eyebrows went up. He wouldn’t mind dealing with that.

“He doesn’t talk out of fear.” Aiba munched thoughtfully on some candies as he said this, which was quite a feat considering that more of them were coming out of his mouth. “It would be total chaos if he spoke in public, and it never does any good to let it be known you have unlimited riches. It would be too easy for a highwayman to kidnap him and make him read the dictionary all day.”

Sho nodded solemnly. Then Jun walked by with his slate, which said, “Snacks?”

“Sure,” Sho replied, catching the coin that fell out. He handed it over.

“On the other hand, everything is always on him,” Aiba commented, and his bucket was full. He handed it to Ohno and went to get an empty one.

Nino looked over to the door, where there was a box for charity donations. In it was a pile of seashells and a few gold coins, but for the most part, it was full of gummy candies.


Aiba made Nino fill out a registration form before he left the meeting. The members wrote to each other from time to time, since they met only once a year. Nino found out that everyone was scattered in various corners of the land. Sho and Jun lived in cities, while Aiba lived in a smaller town near the mountains. Ohno lived near a portion of the shore that attracted many tourists. Sho insisted on giving money to everyone for the trip home, while Aiba insisted on giving everyone a paper bag of candy to munch on, which was all gratefully accepted.


You waiting for the Afternoon Carriage? Ohno asked on the back of a playbill from the theater down the street. It was the next morning. The NSA members had scattered off to buy souvenirs or attend to other business after the meeting. Nino didn’t want to travel through the night, so he stayed at an inn.

Yup, it’s not so bad, Nino wrote back. He had been standing in front of the carriage stables with a few other townspeople when Ohno happened upon him, leading a beautiful chestnut mare with one hand. Nino pointed at her. In response, Ohno pointed at himself, to say that she was his horse.

Nino nodded, and stood there looking at Ohno for a stiff moment as the latter wrote something on the playbill. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about these slow conversations, but they were better than nothing, he supposed.

It was good meeting you. Safe travels. And then Ohno did something unexpected. He pulled Nino close and planted a kiss on his cheek. Nino watched with a dazed expression as Ohno mounted his horse and rode off. What was that? Was it just a friendly sort of good-bye they used down by the sea? Was it like how family members kissed to show affection?

Nino felt a little unwell after that, so he gave all of Aiba’s candies away to the other carriage riders. He couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting and about Ohno, and the cute way Ohno had wrinkled his nose and his easygoing, understanding manner and and...

When he finally opened the door to his cottage, he flopped down on the bed without another thought and fell asleep.


The letters started coming in a few weeks later, and Nino found himself glad for the distraction. Sho and Jun sent postcards by mail, while Aiba had a carrier eagle that waited for Nino to write a response while it terrorized the rabbits in the bushes outside. Ohno’s was missing among the letters that had arrived, so Nino decided to take the initiative.

How’s business? Not much is happening in the forest. Some ogres came by looking for burrahobbits the other day, whatever those are. Generally they don’t bother me though. They think I’m too bony to eat.

Will you send me some seashells? Maybe I can start a collection.

There was a man in the forest who trained foxes. Many of them were used for faster ground mail service, so Nino borrowed one. He looked at his note, took a deep breath and sent the fox on its way. Hopefully that wasn’t too weird. He tried to forget about it as much as possible and went back to gardening. The next week, the fox came by with a lumpy package wrapped in brown paper and a length of new string. Nino tore it open to find Ohno’s reply and three seashells.

Never heard of burrahobbits either. Don’t eat too much of the candy Aiba sends you, or you might become tasty-looking.

Things are ok here. A bunch of dwarves came down from the mountains for a frolic, the taverns liked them very much and they’re thinking of translating the vacation ads into Dwarvish. I’m sending you some shells, hope you like them.

Nino turned over the shells in his hand. One of them had a fanciful unicorn painted on it. He supposed those were popular with the Knitting Society Ladies when they took their group outings. He lined up the shells on an empty shelf in the cottage and went out to chase off some deer. They had gotten into the carrots. Again.


As the months passed, Nino came to learn that the NSA were a fairly curious bunch. Jun was always asking for leaves of this tree or that flower, while Aiba wanted to know more about the forest animals (Nino was considerate enough to omit the carrier eagle’s hunting sprees). Sho liked to engage in more abstract conversations, which Nino entertained readily, and Ohno -- well, Ohno was just Ohno, and he wrote about mundane and interesting things equally. In return, Nino’s shelf began to hold not only a tidy collection of seashells and scenic postcards, but also sparkling mineral samples, small bottles of local mead, a telescope for the stars and even a pair of seven-league boots. Everything suddenly felt lively and exciting. Nino was getting news from all corners of the kingdom, oftentimes faster than the newspapers the postman brought him. The onion fad was out, Jun had noted - now it was all about those puffy pumpkin shorts. As for the sleeping princess in the next kingdom, someone finally came along to wake her up, and an entire army of cleaners had to be called in to remove the cobwebs. The days, Nino noticed, were not as heavy and desperate as they used to feel. However, the same changes were not felt by everyone else.

Sometimes I wonder if this is all the Fish wanted for me,” Ohno wrote one autumn day. Nino played with the shells on the tabletop as he read. One of them was a beautiful pink-orange whelk that Ohno wisely left unpainted. Just selling shells, and nothing else. I can’t get rich this way. I can’t get famous this way. I’m not really sure...if I’m all that happy.

Nino looked at the letter carefully. Something was bothering Ohno, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the waning of the tourist season. The beach would be quite lonely at this time. People would be retiring home to their lives and their families. Many of the shops would be closing up. Nino suddenly wondered what Ohno did over the winter.

The villagers make snow maidens during their annual winter festival, Nino found himself writing after thinking at length. Sometimes, all that was needed was a change of scenery. Sometimes, all that was needed was a friendly face. Too bad I can’t mail them to you, because I think you would like them. If you would like to visit, we could go look at them together.


It was nearly nightfall when Ohno knocked several weeks later, causing Nino to jump up from his place by the fire. He rushed to the door, nearly tripping over the fox as it napped on the rug, and opened the latch with a heavy clank.

“Hi,” Ohno greeted, looking tired but happy. He caught the shell as it fell, and it was a curiously round and pleasantly-shaped cowrie.

Nino waved, and then waved around his cottage as if to say, “It’s not much, but come inside,” and for once he felt a little self-conscious about his things. He’d spent the last two days cleaning and rearranging the place. He wondered if his rustic wooden furniture was good enough, or if the thatching on his roof wasn’t too shabby...it was nothing like how people lived in the nicer towns, after all, and it seemed like Ohno’s town wasn’t a run-down place, if so many tourists went there every year. But Ohno put his bag down and looked around as if he were absorbing all the details like a scholar in front of a book, and finally said that it was very nice, and Nino saw from the shape of the shells that he was sincere.


“It’s quiet here,” Ohno said softly as they settled down to sleep later that night. There were four bunk beds in the bedroom, but of course seven of those beds stood empty these days. Ohno had chosen one next to Nino’s. He sighed and burrowed deeper under the covers.

Nino realized that it must be quiet, without the constant crashing of waves. At least there were crickets in the summer, but during the winter it was different. He reached up and tapped on the bunk above, imitating the soft roll of the sea before the loud slap of water on the shore. He visited the sea as a child, but it had been so many years that Nino wondered if he was doing it right. Ohno looked at him quizzically for a while before he finally understood. He joined in, but suddenly it sounded much more like music than waves, and they drummed out beat after beat, Nino smiling silently while Ohno laughed for the both of them, until their arms were too tired to go on. The emptiness of this room had often frightened and depressed Nino, but for now was pleasant again, and for the first time in a long while, he slept well into mid-morning.


Ohno stayed for three weeks before he needed to return home. They visited the village snow maidens together - beautiful human-sized sculptures of snow and ice - and watched as a panel of prominent villagers judged the best pieces. On Moomin-night, Nino showed Ohno how horses made of snow would come alive if water were poured on their backs. They watched as their horse turned to look at them once with its round mirror-eyes before trotting off into the woods. During the day, they gathered firewood and kept warm inside while reading or working quietly among themselves. It was nice, just sitting and not really needing to expend energy to keep the other person entertained.

One afternoon, Nino was drawing something he’d seen in the forest not too long ago: a weird little hut standing on a pair of chicken feet. It had walked off when he got closer and he hadn’t seen it since. Ohno was painting shells. The finished ones lined up at attention on the table; little scenes, animals, people. Nino realized belatedly that the other had been watching him for some time. Ohno looked down very quickly and cleared his throat. Nino pretended to not notice as he erased a chicken toe and redrew it.

At length, Ohno initiated a slow conversation on a piece of paper, as if nothing had happened. There’s a glass mountain over the water. You can just see it on a clear day.

He had included a quick sketch of a dark, misty shape breaking the horizon.

How do you know it’s made of glass? Nino wrote underneath it, somewhat relieved they weren’t going to start being awkward around each other. He started adding a line of boats sailing in the distance.

That’s what they say. They say a water dragon lives there, and controls the tide. One of the boats sprouted fishing poles.

What would you do if you met that dragon? What if he granted wishes? Nino doodled the head of a dragon, and Ohno added the wings. He shrugged and then pointed at Nino.

But I know you’d want your brothers back right away.

Nino shrugged, but in that way that said, “That’s about right.” He twirled his pen. And would you want to stop having shells come out when you speak?

Ohno looked at the paper and frowned. He waited for so long to write a response that Nino was afraid he’d made offense. Finally, Ohno wrote, But it was a gift, after all.

Upon reflection, Nino could understand that feeling too.


When it was time to say goodbye, Nino and Ohno waited outside the cottage for the postman. He was supposed to come today with the mail, and had agreed to take Ohno back to town. They rolled snowballs, piling them up into little mountains. It was a gloomy day; Nino brought out a candle and they arranged some of the snowballs around it, creating a lantern to protect it from the wind. They crouched around it and played with the shadows cast by the flame. In the quiet of the forest, the postman’s horse could be heard snorting from a long way off. Ohno slowly got up and smiled in a sort of sad way.

“Thank you,” he said, the shells shining like pearls as he pressed them into Nino’s hand, and Nino realized it was more than a “Thanks for having me”, but perhaps also a “Thanks for everything” or a “Thanks for being my friend.”

“No, thank you,” was what Nino wanted to say as he nodded his head deeply in acknowledgment. Now that the moment had come, he didn’t want Ohno’s stay to end. He’d gotten used to the extra noise in the cottage, and he didn’t want to face that empty bedroom again. He’d set out to help Ohno feel better, but he knew now that it wasn’t one-sided; he had been helped as well.

But it was time, and the postman was already there, and so Ohno kissed Nino on the cheek like last time before climbing up onto the mail cart. The postman handed Nino his usual pile of adverts, and went on his way. The candle continued to burn in its snow-lantern as Nino went back inside and shut the door. He looked down at shells on his hand and contemplated their shapes for a moment before lining them up on the shelf with the others.


The seasons turned quickly, and it wasn’t until it was time for the next annual meeting that Nino realized that he had survived his first year under the curse with his sanity intact. The location for the annual meeting was farther off this time, in Jun’s city, where he worked as a tailor. The group had agreed to meet at his workshop the morning before the meeting to take a tour and hang out for a while among themselves. When Nino arrived, he was already an hour late due to a stall on a muddy road, but he saw that Ohno wasn’t there yet. The four of them waited all morning for him, chatting and drawing pictures to pass the time, until they couldn’t delay setting up for the meeting.

“Maybe he missed his carriage or something,” Aiba said as he sat in one of the chairs in the center of the room. No one had come by yet. Jun noted that in fact, very few people tended to come by; Nino was a rarity all things considered.

Sho had one of those looks on his face, and Nino kept glancing out the window, wondering if something happened. Some children wandered in out of curiosity, and they were allowed to play with the slates and chalk for a while before their mother found them. Finally, the meeting ended and they were forced to put everything away, but there was no Ohno. The four of them cleaned the room mechanically, not sure what to make of it. Jun knitted his eyebrows with worry as he emptied Aiba’s gummies from its bucket and into a sack for later. Sho left a note for Ohno on the door, directing him to go straight to the inn where they were staying.

The next morning, there was still no sign of Ohno. A higher sense of emergency started to settle over the group. Travel could be slow, and delays could be expected, but it was getting a little longer than ordinary. By the late afternoon, they had decided to travel along the road Ohno should’ve taken to town, thinking to meet him along the way. Jun was to stay in case Ohno arrived after the others had left. Sho offered his coach, which was nicely furnished on the inside and neatly painted on the outside, for the journey. There was no time for cards or word games; the three of them took turns looking constantly out the window for any sign of Ohno in the passing carriages or along the side of the road. Hour after hour passed in this manner before they stopped to rest. Nino’s body ached from sitting in the coach all day, and it complained miserably as he stretched. Likewise, Aiba was staggering around with stiff legs as he unloaded a bag. Sho instructed his driver to ask around at the inn for any information, but there was none, and with that knowledge they settled down reluctantly for the night. They started again in the morning, somehow summoning renewed hope, but when the coach passed through the gates of Ohno’s town, they realized with a start that there was no more road left.

“He might be laying at home with a fever,” Aiba said as they gathered their things, which had scattered inside the coach. Some of the townspeople loitering nearby tried to look in through the window, which was after all their Right in the Public Order of Things. If the curtains weren’t drawn, then it wasn’t private. Aiba disembarked and handed the nearest person a paper sack of gummies. The three of them trekked down towards the shore to Ohno’s house, which was neatly built and relatively new, only to find it empty.

“There’s got to be a clue around here somewhere,” Sho said as he walked around the room with his shirt held out in front of him. “Or maybe he wrote something in a letter, and we just forgot?”

Nino looked carefully around the house. A bag of money and his travelling papers were sitting on the table. A pair of good shoes were next to the door, and on a nearby bench was a seemingly random assortment of old fishing line and hooks. However, the rest of his fishing gear was nowhere to be seen. He quickly got the attention of the others.

“He hadn’t even started on his trip to the meeting,” Sho said, eyeing the papers. Before he could say more, Nino pulled out a notepad from his pocket and started drawing a picture of a boat with a man in it. Sho nodded.

“He’s lost at sea?” Aiba said, looking out the window, where a view of the nearby beach and the water could be seen. “But how do we find him?”

“If you are looking for the Gift of the Southern Sea, he is not here,” a voice from the door called out. Everyone turned to see an old woman standing just outside the house. She held up a wizened hand towards the ocean. “I have warned him time and time again, that the Lord of the Mountain would like nothing more than to claim him for his own, lover of treasures that he is.”

Nino looked out to where the woman was pointing. He noticed that the horizon was broken by a dark grey smudge. He stared at it for a while before he realized that he’d seen this view before, though it was drawn on paper. It was the glass mountain Ohno had mentioned.

“What’s the Gift of the Southern Sea?” Aiba asked. If the woman was startled by the gummies, she didn’t show it. In all likelihood, she’d been observing them for some time.

“The Prince of the Southern Sea is a whimsical being, but his magic is strong. He may take any form he wishes, whether it be lowly urchin or a whale,” the woman answered indirectly, but Nino understood. The fish that gave Ohno his seashells must’ve been the Prince. Useful or not, the Prince had given Ohno a very valuable piece of magic.

What do we do?” he wrote on his notepad.

“You must fetch him,” the woman looked at Nino, and then the others. She pointed to Sho and Aiba. “You two, holders of Gifts of Land, will most certainly die if you attempt it, for the Lord abhors all magic from the Land.”

Then she turned to Nino with a strange look in her eye. It seemed to appraise him, but was also a look of sadness. “It seems that only you, unmarked and silent, can make the journey.”

The gravity of the situation was quickly punctured by Aiba’s protesting, but Sho, who had a better understanding of The Way Things Worked, held him back. Nino didn’t seem to notice them as his insides quivered at the thought of what he needed to do. Courage be damned -- only idiots were courageous. He’d never had to risk his life for anything before, and he knew every well what might happen if he failed. The old woman, who revealed herself to be the resident witch of Ohno’s seaside town, led the group back to her cottage, where she opened a small chest and produced a slim white piece of bone set in silver.

“This key will allow you to gain entrance to the Lord’s castle.” She looped the key’s chain around Nino’s neck. In the process, Nino noticed that the little finger on her left hand was missing. “It was used once before, long ago, to rescue those dear. Do not bargain with the Lord, for he cannot be pleased. Make your escape and do not look behind you at all costs.”

Sho and Aiba nodded solemnly. Only very special mortals won when going against the magical, and one didn’t know if he was special or not until it was too late. They rummaged through their bags for things that Nino might need, and when everything was ready, the old woman led them to a hidden cave entrance by the water. It was the passageway to the glass mountain. Nino took a deep breath, and took a step in before he could form any second thoughts.

The cave passage was narrow and damp. Behind him, the crashing waves echoed and soon the light from outside faded away. The old woman had warned him to not use any light, which left Nino stumbling blindly in the dark. It took everything he got to keep from shouting out in surprise as his feet slipped into cold puddles and his hands caught on sharp rocks.

Will this ever end? he wondered for what must’ve been the hundredth time as he felt around a winding curve. The ground began to slope downward, and without warning it dropped away sharply, causing him to tumble forward.

When he opened his eyes again, it was still pitch black. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and in that silence he heard the faint tinkling of bells. Nino sat up abruptly, aware that almost everything Sho and Aiba had packed for him was gone. He felt for the key around his neck, and thankfully it was still there. The bell-sound was also still there, and he scrambled to his feet to follow the noise. Ohno -- Ohno was most likely in that direction. Nino thought desperately in the darkness about so many things, of doodles and peaceful winter nights, of laughter and the clatter of shells hitting his hardwood floor, of goodbye kisses and the kisses yet to be shared...

...his outstretched hands came to a wall, and with some unconscious knowing, he pushed. The light was grey and stung his eyes, but when his vision cleared, he saw that he was at the foot of the glass mountain. He had made it.


The next hour was a blur. Nino had raced up the smooth path, coming to a little door carved out of the mountainside. With shaking hands, he’d use the key, which unlocked the door with ease. Inside the castle, room after glittering room was filled with pearls of all sizes and polished corals of all colors, but the old woman was right -- there was no sign of treasures made on land, of rubies and gold and diamonds. The glass walls vibrated slightly with magic. It was unusual for mortals to sense magic normally, but in such large quantities Nino couldn’t ignore it. He skidded along the silent halls in his socks. So far, he hadn’t seen or heard a soul. Every room was as empty of life as the one before it. Periodically, the fall of a pearl from its perch on top of its pile would echo sharply throughout the castle, causing Nino to jump. The loneliness of the castle was beginning to wear on him. The thought of having people to avoid seemed inviting; at least he would know where they were. Then Nino turned a corner and crashed right into Ohno.

The dull thump of their bodies hitting the glass floor made Nino’s stomach drop. Ohno scrambled to his feet and pointed at Nino frantically. The look on his face said it all.

What the heck are you doing here?

But there was no time for anything else, because the force of their collision had shaken the fragile balance of some pearls in a nearby room, and something very bad was about to happen.

The old woman had said, Do not look behind you, and Nino intended to follow that instruction to the fullest. He grabbed Ohno’s hand and rushed off back the way he came. Behind them, the Lord’s treasures were falling one by one, the glass floors transmitting the vibrations that had grown too much. The roar of tumbling pearls and coral grew louder and louder as the avalanche picked up momentum as it passed each room. Look behind him? There was not a curious bone in Nino’s body at that moment.

“Here!” Ohno shouted, and he dragged Nino down another hallway, which ended in a small door similar to the one Nino had used to enter. Nino jammed the key into the lock and it swung open, revealing a small pier where a rowboat was docked. “That’s my boat!”

They didn’t even look at each other until the glass mountain was far behind them. Ohno had been rowing non-stop, and sweat was trickling down his neck. He leaned on the oars and looked at Nino wearily.

“What -- what were you doing in there?”

Nino’s notepad was still thankfully in his back pocket. He licked his pencil lead.

I came to rescue you.

Ohno noted the key around Nino’s neck. “That must be Mother Holle’s.”

It took a second for Nino to realize that Ohno meant the old woman. He nodded. He wrote down something else.

She said the Lord of the Mountain collected you because you’re the Gift of the Southern Sea.

Ohno smiled weakly. It seemed that he’d learned at least that much while in captivity. “There were no wishes after all at the glass mountain. Thank you for coming for me.”

Nino took the oars for a little while. Ohno rummaged through his bag, looking for a leftover crust of bread to munch on. In the process, a glass bottle fell out. There was a piece of paper stuffed into it. Nino kicked it with his foot to draw Ohno’s attention.

“Oh...This is for you,” Ohno laughed awkwardly, picking it up. The shells fell from his lips and onto the bottom of the boat, where it joined the others. “I’ve...had it for some time.”

Nino picked up three of the shells scattered at their feet, as if to say, “You forgot these.”

“No need.” Ohno looked at Nino for a moment with his warm brown eyes, and whispered,

“I love you.”

The glass rang musically as three shells fell in. Nino took the offered bottle with one unsteady hand and looked at its contents. He thought back to his shelf of painted shells, and that was when he began to wonder.

“I realized, even if you didn’t feel the same, I couldn’t die in that castle without telling you that.” Ohno said it so quietly that the noise of the shells nearly blotted it out. “I’d broken out of my cell when you found me.”

Nino tipped the shells out of the bottle and rolled them around in his hand. Like all things sincere and lovely and truthful, they were beautiful. There were so many things he couldn’t say, and so he leaned forward and kissed Ohno. It wasn’t a quick goodbye. It was a gentle, long hello.

Suddenly, there was a splash along the side of the boat. A bubbly voice called out. “Yoo-hoo!”

They looked curiously into the water. A large, shimmering fish was there, its head poking up out of the surface. Ohno blinked in recognition. “Fi-- I mean, the Prince of the Southern Sea!”

“Yes, it’s me,“ the Prince replied. “I see you’ve finally made use of the gift I’ve given you.”

Ohno frowned. As he spoke, the shells fell into the sea in little plops. “What d’you mean?”

“You have your happy ending, don’t you?”

“Um, I was imprisoned by the Lord of the Mountain.”

“But you have him, don’t you?” The Prince flicked its tail towards Nino, who watched in fascination as Ohno turned a deep shade of scarlet.

“Well. Yeah.”

NSA! Nino jotted on his notepad, knowing that Ohno would understand: If it weren’t for the shells, they would’ve never met at NSA. He wasn’t sure if the Prince would get it, but he turned his notebook towards it too, just in case.

“Yeah...” Ohno repeated slowly, nodding.

The Prince seemed to smile in a fishy sort of way, evidently very satisfied. “In that case, my gift has served its purpose. You no longer need it, so I’ll be taking it back to give to someone else!”

And with that, the Prince disappeared into the ocean.

“But I still wanna know --” Ohno called out after the Prince, but he stopped short in surprise. Nothing had came out of his mouth.

Nino gestured excitedly, which would have definitely been a written message in all caps. They hugged, and they kissed again, but then they decided to go back to shore first because they were feeling pretty hungry by now, and besides, Sho and Aiba were probably worried sick. As Ohno rowed peacefully, Nino scribbled something on his notepad.

Since you’ll need a new job now, I guess you should to come home with me.

He flipped the page with a twinkle in his eye.

After all, it wouldn’t be a happy ending any other way.