Chapter 13
When Ando heard that Dracoserpens from across the land would gather to offer him their blessing, he pictured a formal rite—something solemn and carefully observed, like the ceremonies of Imresia.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
By morning, the imperial gardens were already filling. Dracoserpens arrived in waves, claiming patches of ground as if it were second nature. Fires were lit, pans set to heat, and before long the air was alive with the scent of sugar, spices, and roasting meat—rich, warm, and already making his mouth water.
The meals the day before had been lively enough, but this was something else entirely. There was no order to it—no seating, no courses, just movement and noise. Each Dracoserpens cooked whatever they pleased, passed it around, sampled from a neighbor’s stall, then drifted off in search of something new. Laughter rose and carried across the garden.
It didn’t feel like a ceremony at all.It felt like a festival.
Under every cooking stand burned the same Springfire. He learned they carried flammable air in sealed containers, feeding it into the hearths to keep the flames steady and bright.
At some point, he noticed Yuki already had a drink in hand.
All around him, Dracoserpens sprawled across rugs and cloths spread over the grass, eating, talking, resting as they pleased. And yet, whenever they caught sight of him, their faces lit up. They waved him over, clapped him on the shoulder, took his hand in theirs with easy strength.
“So you were living among humans, eh? Glad you made it.”
“Dormancy came early for you, didn’t it? Means you’ll grow into a strong one.”
“If you’re tired, lie down. Sleep as much as you need—grow well.”
They came to him one after another—smiling, talking, pressing food into his hands before he could refuse, urging him to try this, then that.
Ando found himself turning in place, pulled from one voice to the next, one dish to another—hardly able to keep up, and not entirely sure he wanted to.
He even tried the drink.
Back in Imresia, he had barely touched alcohol. Here, he took a cautious sip—and paused. The aroma rose warm and clean, the taste unfolding slowly, and a gentle warmth spread through him, softening the edges of the world.
To his surprise, he liked it.
“Best not let Yuki know,” Kiba said with a crooked smile. “She’ll never leave you alone.”
Ando followed his gaze.
Yuki was already in high spirits, locked in a rough grapple with Tien. Nearby, Hasu and the others from Hokurin shouted and laughed, egging them on. They caught and threw each other, feet sweeping, blows flashing—and then, as if that weren’t enough, both of them shifted into their draconic forms.
They burst into the sky.
Their bodies coiled and wheeled through the blue, tails lashing, fangs striking with sharp cracks that rang through the air. They chased one another like living thunder, carving great arcs across the heavens.
“Hey—Tien! That’s cheating! Show some respect—you’re fighting the Empress!”
“Oh please—listen to you! You started it when you yanked my tail!”
Then—the air trembled.
Clouds welled up from nowhere, dark and heavy. Thunder rolled deep enough to rattle his bones.
All around them, umbrellas snapped open in practiced motions. Covers were thrown over the stalls in moments.
“Mr. Ando—you’ll be soaked. This way.”
It was Ko, smiling as ever.
He had set out food beneath the eaves of the covered walkway, where Wani and Azu were already settled. Ando had barely stepped under the shelter when the rain broke—thick drops at first, then a sudden torrent. Lightning split the sky, and the downpour came crashing down in silver sheets—
Someone whooped—and the laughter surged again, louder than before.
“For such a sudden storm… no one seems bothered,” Ando said.
Ko gave a quiet chuckle. “If we tried to keep pace with Yuki’s moods, we’d never manage anything at all.”
They were all Dracoserpens. Storms, thunder, sudden shifts of sky—these were things their own kind brought about. No wonder no one was surprised.
Before long, Yuki and Tien came plunging back from the heavens, slamming into the center of the grounds. The impact boomed, earth leaping up in a cloud of dust—and a few unlucky stalls collapsed beneath it.
No one complained.
They only laughed.
The two of them lay there as well, laughing breathlessly, before slipping back into human form.
“Hey! I chipped a claw!”
“I’ve got a file. Want polish, too?”
Just as suddenly as it had come, the storm passed. The clouds thinned, then drifted apart.
By the time Ando noticed, the sun had already dipped low.
The garden—alive with noise since morning—was now steeped in gold. Light spilled across the damp earth, caught in the lingering mist, and turned everything soft and radiant.
And then—he saw it.
A great arc of color unfurled slowly across the sky.
A rainbow.
He forgot to breathe.
In Imresia, he had seldom seen one—and never anything like this. A vast, perfect span, stretching from one horizon to the other.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
Each drop of rain seemed to cradle the light. The air itself shimmered, as if the world had been washed clean and remade.
Laughter rang out around him. The scent of wet earth rose, deep and rich. A warm wind drifted in from the sea, carrying with it the breath of salt and distant waves.
All of it—the voices, the colors, the scent of rain and earth, gathered beneath the rainbow and became a single, living moment.
It was so beautiful it hurt.
He could not speak.
Even after the rainbow faded into the deepening dusk, the festival did not end.
Fires were lit. More drink was passed from hand to hand. Someone began to sing, and others joined in.
Laughter softened into night.
The moon climbed, pale and serene, then slowly began to tilt westward.
And still—no fatigue came. No heaviness clung to him. The dull, constant weight that had followed him through every hour in Imresia was simply… gone.
Ando laughed with them, raised his cup, and remained among them until the last of them finally drank themselves into sleep.
Warm air. Open-hearted people. Beauty that filled the eye—and food that lingered long after.
So much that Imresia had never given him.
He knew he could never truly become one of them.
And yet—to have seen this place, to have stood among them, he felt, more than anything, that he had been fortunate.
Above him, the night sky stretched vast and clear. Stars glittered across it—like the faint afterimage of the rainbow that had been.
—This was something he would carry with him, for the rest of his life.
