[https://i.imgur.com/CAZiGlu.png]

Tristan sat at his easel, leaning in until his nose nearly touched the canvas. A few feet ahead of him, the wall-length enchanted screen displayed a field of tiny blue flowers bending in the breeze and welcoming the blue butterflies that flocked to their petals.

With a tiny brush and a teensy dab of paint, Tristan carefully penned the delicate outlines of the lule misre blossoms. This had to be perfect.

Outside his door came a soft thud and a pair of whispering, giggling voices. Tristan ignored them and kept working.

Cherishing Day was, in a word, overwhelming.

Celestia had explained it to him the first year he arrived on Shi Island. A holiday where everyone celebrated the ones closest to them. Cherishing Day’s origins were detailed in one of the many books the school provided him with. Hundreds of years ago, Saoirse had brought gifts to her followers and asked them to carry on the tradition.

Except, the girls in the school used it to try and win favor with Tristan. Lining the hall outside of his door with chocolates, flowers, cakes, and curiosities. Hand-written notes and signed names adorned the packages with curled ribbons. The majority of the girls were ones he’d never met, while the minority he’d shared intimate encounters with only once. A lot of them he stashed away for Celestia to give to the kittens in the nurseries. How was he supposed to eat twenty cakes by himself? The holiday felt a little… empty.

But then, Destiny had come along. Their first meeting was etched into his memory as one of the best nights of his life.

It was six months after Tristan was situated in Venicia’s School of Etiquette. He couldn’t sleep, so he perched at his desk, sketching a picture of the school from memory when a soft tapping came at the door. He moved to stand beside it and waited. The tapping came again.

“Madame Celestia?” Tristan called. Celestia’s knocking generally followed the click of her unlocking the door. For her to call on him so late was out of character.

“No. Um, my name is Destiny,” came the reply.

Tristan paused, hand resting on the door handle. “I didn’t see your name on the schedule.”

“Schedule? Oh, uh, no. I wasn’t… well, I wasn’t chosen to see you.” Destiny stammered through her sentences, her voice barely audible through the thick wood. “I just wanted to meet you, I guess.”

Tristan blinked. “Why?”

“Because if I were stuck in a room for six months, I’d be bored out of my mind,” Destiny replied, a confidence that hadn’t been there before tinting her voice.

Tristan chuckled. “I have plenty of company.”

“I know, but… What about friends?”

“I–” Tristan glanced at his desk. His sketchbook and journal lie open, filled with comforting pictures and entries. The home-cooked meals he received three times a day, the sweet sounds of girls laughing and singing, sleeping in a warm bed every night. Madame Celestia was a kind matron, but they didn’t know enough about each other to be considered friends. “No, I guess not.”

“My sister and I don’t have friends here, either,” Destiny said. “I, er, maybe this was foolish of me. I’m sorry for bothering you, Tristan.”

It was the first time someone had used his name. Not “Master” or “My Lord.” Tristan clicked the lock on the door and swung it open. “Don’t leave. Please.”

Destiny had already turned to walk away but spun when she heard the door open. Her dark blue hair framed her soft features, and she smiled in surprise. “Hi.”

“Hey there.” Tristan chuckled, then gestured behind him. “Come on in.”

He found Destiny easy to talk to, witty, and clever. They chatted about everything and nothing until the first hints of sunlight glimmered through the small, sole window high in the room.

Night after night she returned, sneaking through the school to visit him and grant him a friendship he hadn’t realized he so desperately needed.

When the first Cherishing Day came around, she brought him a series of inks she’d crafted using her skills in [Alchemy]. They flowed like watercolors, leaving behind stunning hues he hadn’t been able to achieve with many of the paints Celestia had provided him. He’d felt foolish and unprepared—what would be a gift worthy of Destiny?

The second year, she’d scrounged her Bells from working at the docks to buy him a leather-bound sketchbook with Tristan’s initials stamped into the corner. TE. He had sketched a portrait of Destiny for her to keep, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

This was their third Cherishing Day together, and Tristan was certain he’d finally found the perfect gift. Leche was Destiny and her twin Lara’s hometown. It was an expensive journey from Venicia that would take time away from her education and work. She often mentioned that she missed the season when the lule misre bloomed and the butterflies returned.

Since his enchanted wall could show him a perfect recreation of anyone who touched it, he had suggested to Destiny that she do just that. She was giddy every time he showed her the evening skylines from Earth, but when she saw Leche laid out before her, there was so much longing on her face. It shouldn’t just be his room that she had the chance to see home again. The canvas may not have been as big as the wall, but it was a piece that she could take with her.

Stolen story; please report.

There was a hard knock at the door and the sound of a key turning in the latch.

“One second!” Tristan leaped up from his chair, snatching the painting from his easel and gingerly setting it aside. He rushed to the wall and changed it back to the sandy beach and sunshine that had become a kind of screensaver for visitors.

If Celestia saw Leche on his wall, it would destroy the careful secret he and Destiny had maintained for years. As far as he knew, Lara and Destiny were the only two girls in the school from the countryside village.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Tristan called, moving back to his easel and setting another half-finished painting of a school of colorful fish he’d found in a book titled Nyarlean Sea Life.

Celestia opened the door and stepped through. “Is everything quite all right, young master?”

“I’m fine. I was just changing,” Tristan lied easily, tapping his brush to the canvas. “What’s up?”

“As is tradition this time of year, there are… numerous gifts outside of your door.” Celestia adjusted her glasses and sighed. “No matter how many warnings I give them…”

“It’s all right. I’m sure the kittens love the attention.” Tristan grinned. “Can we get them to the nursery?”

“Oh, yes. We shall wait until tomorrow.” She smoothed her skirts and clasped her hands over her apron. “There will be no scheduled visits this evening. You should not have to work on this blessed day.”

Work is right. “That’s kind of you, Celestia. Thanks.”

“Of course. I will have dinner delivered in two hours. Do you require anything further before I retire for the evening?”

Tristan considered her question. She asked it every night, but this one sparked an idea. “I’m feeling pretty hungry today. Can you request they cook a little extra?”

Celestia’s brow raised, but she nodded all the same. “Of course, young master.”

“Thank you!” Tristan hopped up from the easel and snatched a drawing from his desk. A perfect portrait of the Madame herself. He crossed the room and handed her the picture with a half bow. “And Happy Cherishing Day, Madame Celestia. I appreciate you taking such good care of me.”

It was the first time he’d gifted her anything for Cherishing Day. She was a difficult woman to read, and he hoped this would cheer her up. Celestia’s cheeks pinked, a reaction Tristan rarely witnessed. In his opinion, it looked cute on her and softened the stern expression she often wore. “How unexpected! Thank you, young master.”

“You’re welcome.” Tristan wandered back to his chair. “See you in the morning?”

“Yes. A wonderful evening to you, young master.” She held the portrait close to her chest. “And my deepest thanks once again.”

Once the door was closed and locked, Tristan counted to thirty before changing the enchanted window to Leche and swapping his canvas out. He only had a few hours to finish before Destiny arrived.

—

The soft tapping came at the door just as he’d added the final touches on the butterflies’ wings. Setting his paints aside, he hurried to let Destiny in.

She grinned, her blue eyes shining in the dim light. She held her arms behind her and leaned forward at the waist. “Happy Cherishing Day, Tristan.”

“Happy Cherishing Day, Destiny.” He returned her smile and stepped aside.

“Your haul somehow gets bigger every year.” Destiny pointed to the gift-covered hallway as she crossed the threshold. “Which, honestly, is crazy that it can.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the suga—” Destiny glanced at him and bit her lower lip. “There just aren’t many bakeries around, that’s all.”

He tipped his head, wondering what she had really wanted to say. But his excitement at their evening together pushed down his question. “I waited for you to have dinner.”

Destiny glanced past him at the candlelit table. Her ears perked, and her tail flickered back and forth behind her. “Goodness! You didn’t have to do that!”

“Hey, it’s a holiday.”

“Thank you, Tristan! But, first, you should open your present.” She brought her hands to the front, holding a small black box tied with a blue ribbon.

Tristan accepted the box and carefully untied the bow. “Can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“Yours is the only present I really look forward to every year,” he admitted, sliding the top from the box.

Destiny blushed and raised a hand to her lips. “I’m glad,” she squeaked.

Sitting atop a bed of red satin was a calligraphy pen carved of polished wood with a silver tip. “Woah. This is beautiful.”

“It’s special. It was enchanted so that, no matter how much you use it, it never runs out of ink,” Destiny explained. “You can just keep sketching with it.”

Tristan’s jaw dropped. “Destiny, this had to have cost a fortune—”

“Shh.” She held a finger up, signaling him to silence. “Now try it out!”

He reached forward and gently took her hand, flattening it in his palm. As she watched in stunned silence, he drew a butterfly on the back of her hand. The ink flowed free, never skipping like a ballpoint pen would on skin. It was as easy as marking a parchment with pencil.

“This is incredible,” he marveled, twisting her hand back and forth to study his work.

Destiny drew her hand back and studied the inked butterfly. “You really turn everything you touch into art, you know that?”

“I didn’t have to touch you for that,” he murmured. Her blush returned, and he cleared his throat. “Can I show you your gift?”

Destiny’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to!”

“Neither did you.” His mouth parched as he guided her to the canvas.

She gasped as her gaze fell over the field of lule misre, drifting along the flight of the butterflies. With her decorated hand, she brushed a flower with delicate fingertips. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them away. “T-Tristan…”

“Is it okay?”

She playfully nudged his arm. “It’s more than okay. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s— It’s home.” Looking from him to the painting, one of her tears fell free. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”

“Destiny, your visits, your companionship, your care, have changed my life. There’s nothing in this world I could give you that would repay that.”

Destiny shook her head. “This is more than I deserve.” She turned to him and embraced him in a tight hug. “You’re more than I deserve.”

“That’s not true,” he muttered into her hair. “If there’s anything I can do for you, just say the word. I mean it.”

“Then just let me stay like this for a bit.” She buried her face in his shirt.

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her close. There were not enough words he could say or paintings he could create that would convey how Destiny had single-handedly dispelled his loneliness in an entire school of catgirls.

Tristan cherished her more than she could ever know.

[https://i.imgur.com/sWADQXB.png]