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Chapter Text

Hushed whispers began to spread beyond the gathering crowd on the street as even spectators from afar joined in on the commotion as it came to a halt just before the bitumen road narrows into a side alley. The sound of a skidding sandal had been followed by a thud and shattering of glass, then a booming voice coming from up the hill echoed out into the square, where alleyways converged into the town centre. It wasn’t always this crowded in the daytime, but earlier in the day, there had been a special occasion that was attended by the royal family, and many had come down even from the outskirts of town to greet them. Now that the celebration had just ended, their attention was largely drawn to the incident just a short distance from the town hall.

On the ground was a young man, sat hunched over with his head between two crossed arms. His pants were torn up at the knees and revealed red, raw abrasions from his tumble. Those encircling him concealed medicines now in a broken vial and a packet that had scattered on the ground from the wider audience, wriggling and asking curiously about the matter. Though it didn’t appear that the culprit would be capable of escaping anytime soon, the townsfolk still surrounded him and the doctor, who berated him with harsh words, lunged at the man and grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it in an attempt to bare his face to the crowd. He called loudly for the police, and it certainly caught the attention of nearby royal guards. The general who stood by the king’s side turned to him and advised that in the presence of onlookers, the royal servants could intervene. 

“Take my family back to the palace. I’ll attend to the commotion with two guards.”

The king didn’t make an effort to hurry, which his eldest son would observe as he tried to assess the situation while the general called for him. The prince thought it was bizarre how anything could become such a scandal in a community so large. Was there truly nothing better to do? He waved off the general as he fixed his gaze upon the parting crowd. There was a young man, cowering and hiding his face as he crouched, holding his head until the doctor gave up on pulling on his hair. What a pitiful sight.

The general spoke, “your highness-” 

“Pardon me. I do have reason to worry, for the king has an explosiveness that is not fit for royal publicity. This poor boy, don’t you see, he’s already being lashed at and here comes an even bigger set of lungs trying to scream the skin off of him. For what?”

It wasn’t unusual for the elder Prince to disobey his father and even interrupt him. He was known for being headstrong and capable despite his willowy appearance. He strode off to intervene, arriving just in time to hear the king speak of how the boy would be thrown into prison and made to work in the barracks. Letting his words dissolve into noise, the prince observed the scornful faces of the townsfolk, the impressed doctor as he stood in awe of the king, and the young man whose tears seeped into the concrete below him. The people he had waved to and seen calling to him and making music in the streets had turned into a mob, determined to ruin the helpless boy before them.

The prince found his way to the epicentre and there he touched his father’s shoulder. Whipping his head around in shock, the king fell silent when he saw his son and felt the fire in him, as impalpable as such a thing was. The crowd too became quiet, with only gasps filling the air when the prince crouched down in front of the young man.

“Are you alright?” the prince asked in a low voice.

Slowly tilting his head at an angle, the man could only see him with one eye through the hair which shielded his face. He could recognise the prince, but he didn’t dare look directly at him. He turned his head back, faced at the ground, paralysed in fear. The prince looked at his knee, where a clear liquid trickled down from the wide abrasion. The sight alone was awfully painful, as he could recall what it felt like to get hurt like this in his childhood. His eyes found the packet which had fallen, then the pieces of glass over a dark spot in the ground that had soaked up what would have been a puddle. There, he pieced together the story and he stood up.

“Can’t you all see that it is medicine he is after? Who would steal a single vial and some pills for a bad reason? These aren’t the sorts that are good for anything but treatment. If someone is so desperate to procure such a thing, wouldn’t you take pity on them?”

The prince turns his attention to the doctor who appeared undecided about his intrusion. 

He pleaded, “Have mercy on him. Perhaps a loved one is ill at home and this is all he can do, as a son, or a father. I understand that this is a business after all, and an honest one, I am sure of it. The king will compensate for your losses, and we will see to the rehabilitation of this young man.”

The doctor furrowed his brows, still displeased. He grumbled, “kindness taking precedence over justice, what good does it do for anybody but the crooks? A little chiding and they’re on their way. So be it, the royal family will pay but what does this say about criminals, that they can get away with it?”

A voice spoke up from within the crowd then, “This young man has a reputation!” The people had packed themselves too closely together to make the source of it identifiable, but again, it shouted, “he was amongst the gang of boys who had been expelled from school. And now he prostitutes himself, manipulating naive women into giving him money!”

Scandalised murmurs broke out across the square, turning the people into a hive-like entity. They buzzed and seethed with their anger, all pointed towards the young stranger. He would soon be known to all if the prince made the wrong move. The king scoffed from behind the son he thought had become too full of himself and detached from the world which commoners walked. Certainly he would be humbled in a moment as he admitted to his oversight. Since his own child was so daring as to raise his voice to oppose him, he wanted shame to find him.

Yet time and time again, the king was proven wrong. He easily overlooked the education he'd invested in for his heir, and the fact that to begin with, he had always been sharp. It was easy for him to command the attention of the people because he knew when and how to speak. Even the elders who knelt to the king respected the prince, who spoke confidently with scholars despite what he did not know, for he believed making the gaps in his knowledge known would spotlight the areas that needed attention from those with more wisdom. The prince nodded politely, accepting the doctor’s questions, listened to the voice in the crowd and took only a moment to process them.

“We are not all born fortunate. Perhaps he hasn’t had a chance to get on the right path yet, and here is where we put an end to misdeeds and make sure everybody can contribute to our society despite their backgrounds or beginnings.”

He paused for air and watched over the young man who had made himself as small as he could. When he thought about how terrifying it must be to be cornered by society like this, even if the people were right to think of him as a cheat, he couldn’t help but stand between them and the man, who was like a curled up millipede. He knew that he was wrong, and perhaps he didn’t defend himself because of it. Resorting to his behaviour must have been preceded by many struggles that the prince didn’t personally know, but that he had observed, read and asked about many times. He looked around at the crowd and saw indecipherable expressions. Were they really human? Yes, he thought, when he remembered they were waiting for him to speak. 

“If we lead by example, it becomes the expectation and demand we make of ourselves and each other. Maybe… he hasn’t known kindness and so he’s acted poorly.”

Addressing the doctor, he said, “you and I, we can afford this chance. The royal family will certainly reward you for your kindness here. And for bystanders, if it be our fathers or sons who make mistakes or fall short of what we expect of others and ourselves, do we wish to shun and banish them permanently, or can we show them the way and allow them to atone for their ill behaviour?”

He could see the little motions of people shifting and some nodding their heads as he pivoted to face his father. “Of course, there are unforgivable things and they will be handled justly with an unwavering sureness. Don’t be mistaken. Yet, don’t believe that only severe crimes are punished. We only find alternative solutions to lesser crimes, to nip the bud before it blooms.”

Out of focus but in his field of vision, the prince notices the young man tilt his head upwards as his dark tresses parted to reveal his pale face. He stilled himself and now looked at him with a strange intensity in his eyes. Was it bewilderment? Surprise? Fear? He had a feline appearance – sharp eyes, high and wide cheekbones and a mouth that curled upwards at the sides. The balance between pitiful stray and frightful beast was delicate within his features. If he furrowed his brows it might cause a child to cry. But with his big and teary eyes, clenched jaw and pouted lips, he looked helpless like a puppy. Perhaps the shift in attention away from him gave him enough courage to look up and show himself. All this while, he had listened intently, and the empathetic words of the prince allowed him to ease up, just slightly. Enough to risk a look at him, and then he hid himself again.

“What a shame,” the prince heard. “So blessed with beauty and yet cursed with a rotten core.”

It was true that he was beautiful, the prince thought. Cursed, maybe, but rotten? Definitely not. The prince bends down, even if it was still alarming to the people and his father that he made such casual gestures that only ordinary folks should. He placed his hand gently on his wrist and through the curtain of hair, their eyes met again, for only a moment as the man felt too ashamed and lowly to look directly at him any longer than that. Softly, the prince asked, “Who do you need the medicine for?”

The young man inhaled a shaky lungful. Though he answers, it would only be loud enough for the nearest circle of people to hear. Even if people doubted him, the way the prince saw things, it wasn’t at all for show. He wasn’t taking advantage of the scene that he had caused despite how he could turn their perception of him around if he chose his words well. By the looks of it, he was too occupied by the shame and fear that made him tremble to even consider scheming.

Nearly under his breath, he spoke, “My mother is ill. My brother is away for work, and his money hasn’t come in recently. I’m afraid the courier… somebody has lost it, somehow. Or pocketed it. I work… but it’s not enough.”

Hearing this, the prince looks over at the doctor and sees his expression has softened. Someone had indeed wronged him first, and he didn’t have options besides the choice he made. Though the prince first questioned why he couldn’t work elsewhere, he wondered if he needed to be by his mother’s side during the day. Even if that meant he should be able to work at night, it seemed exhausting to care for someone when it was bright, and then work when it was dark. It mustn't have been long ago that this man had been a child, so it wasn’t easy to take on big responsibilities so suddenly. 

The prince reached over to pick up the packet on the floor, tapping it on the back of one of the man’s hands which firmly held his legs. “Take it with you,” he said. “This is something she needs, so stand up and take it to her.”

Rising, the prince approaches the doctor, noticing as his eyes scanned his surroundings that many had begun to leave since he had deescalated the commotion. A part of him was relieved and pleased, and yet he felt disappointed that people had arrived to witness the drama unfold and not out of concern for those involved. He quietly asked the doctor to promise clemency to the man, and in return the royal family would compensate him soon. Grumbling in agreement, his words were tinged with reluctance as his remnant anger was yet to dissipate. He quickly left for his clinic, and meanwhile, the prince only spares his father a glance as he turns towards the young man again.

Now standing, he casts a shade over the prince’s eyes from the now glaring sun. He’s only a little taller, but broad in comparison, though he seemed slender under his blouse. Though he hung his head low, he was visible now. Once again, the prince asked if he was alright, and he was reassured by a small voice. Knowing that his father’s view was obscured by the man being positioned between them, he didn’t have to worry about being caught and reprimanded when he pinched the ring off his finger and presented it to the man. He looked at it, noting that while the band was silver, it seemed shiny and bright enough that it might have been white gold. There was a big ruby in the centre, accompanied by two smaller ones by its sides.

He seemed to admire it without guessing the prince’s intentions as he looked at it silently. Meanwhile, the prince watched him, intrigued by the glint in his eyes, innocent rather than envious. There was a lot beneath the surface of him that was impossible to uncover, but plain to see. The prince hoped that he could help him. Somewhere in there was a goodness that could really save him.

Presenting the ring to the man, he instructed him, “pawn it, or sell it to a jeweller. Use the money wisely. Come to the palace and ask for me when you are ready to work, when you have healed.”

For a moment the young man’s face turned blank and expressionless, then morphed into bewilderment as he shook his head and stuttered, trying to form words. But he couldn’t, and when he raised his hand to wave in refusal, it was caught by the prince, who then slipped the ring into his palm and grasped his fingers to make them close over it. Their eyes met and he saw the man panic, so he smiled. Not too much, just as warmly as he could possibly manage. He let go and waited to observe if the ring would be accepted this time. To his relief, the man opened his hand to look at it wordlessly, then closed his fingers over it again. It wasn’t an offer he could reject after all.

“You will use the money wisely. The jeweller or broker will definitely be suspicious of you, but I’m sure they’ll take it once they inspect it. Whatever the shop offers, take it.”

The crowd is fully dispelled by now, with only a few onlookers along the sidewalks watching from a distance. The king wasn’t about to retreat to the palace alongside his son who was fuelling his rage, so he took off on his own, accompanied by his guards who didn’t dare ask about the prince. 

Quietly, the young man thanks the prince with a bow. He said he would do his best to right his wrongs. The prince said, “there is much to worry about, but this is a small matter. Take care of yourself, and your mother.”

The man bowed deeply to him, apologising for the trouble caused. Not wanting to hold the prince any longer, he promised to visit as soon as possible, before leaving a little unsteadily, perhaps struggling to lift or bend his knees. Still worried that someone might try to harm him, the prince looked on until he was barely visible in the distance. He hoped that there would be something he could clean his wounds with at home. Perhaps he should have offered his handkerchief, but it likely wouldn’t have helped much either. He appeared well groomed and didn’t smell, so there must have been water and soap at least. If he could rest for a few days, scabs would form easily and he would soon show up at the palace.

Then the prince sighed and threw his head back. How would the guards even know to let him in? Perhaps he should have asked for the man’s name and informed them of an impending visitor. If he described what the man looked like, it’d still be difficult to discern whether or not it was really him or an imposter. But even if there was a way to ensure the identity of the arriving guest, the prince couldn’t be certain that the young man was going to come anyway. Now that he had the medicine he needed and something that could get him a decent amount of money, he could just stay in hiding and be careful not to cause alarm again.

He shook this stream of thought from his consciousness as he entered the palace, ready for an earful from the king that he knew would be coming.

Chapter Text

The dining table was excruciating quiet apart from the clinking and scrapes of cutlery against ceramic. A row of candles down the centre of the table danced frantically, perhaps quivering from the emitting tensity between father and son as they ate. At the foot of the table sat the king, and around the bends of the table were his older son and his wife. The brothers sat beside each other. The queen dragged a slice of beef across her plate with no intention of consuming it. Her eyes were flitting between the prince and the king, who both avoided looking up even once. Before their emotions could boil over, she thought it was best to speak and resolve things. The queen cleared her throat.

“Would the two of you prefer to sort things out by yourselves or must I go and find out what happened at the town square?”

The elder prince nodded, replying plainly, “sure, the usual solution works.”

The king’s eyes swooped over and glared at him, and his hands tightened around the silverware. The queen beckoned for the prince’s explanation with raised eyebrows.

“He can hit me, is what I’m saying.”

He didn’t spare his father a look. He could imagine all the typical, minute changes in his face without them being in view. The dents in his temples and subtle flare of his masseter as he clenched his teeth, the tensing of his neck, the breath held in his chest. The king seethed harder, thinking about how he should proceed, and how there was no sure way to be right. He had to lose some to win some when dealing with the prince. It was tempting to slap his arrogant face, but perhaps that was going to let him win more.

“You should simply stop meddling in concerns unrelated to you,” the king said.

“Well, we are related. So your business is my business,” the prince replied.

“You say that but there’s plenty you refuse to get involved with. By that logic you can’t pick and choose.”

“Maybe I’d attend every affair but it wouldn’t be a good look for you if I showed up with a bruised face, would it? I’d say it’s rather often that I have to abstain from meetings and the like for that reason. But anyway, I only intervene when someone else gets hurt. It should be enough to take your anger out on just me.”

Nobody was eating now. The king stayed silent, and the younger prince had at some point turned his body a barely perceptible degree away from his family, while their mother gaze blankly at her plate, too dumbfounded for words to come to her. The older prince still knew that there was something brewing in her mind. Despite thinking it was bad of him to pressurise her, she was often the only thing that stood between him and his father, making them both cautious around each other since they loved and respected her.

He asked, “mother, don’t you think it’s excessively harsh to put a boy in jail for trying to help his ailing mother?”

The question was of course phrased in a way she could not disagree. She looked at her husband, unsure of how she should respond. For the prince, it was as good as saying she agreed, but couldn’t to appease the king. He didn’t think it was manipulative though, because even if she knew the entire situation, he suspected that she would still agree with him. As she silently lowered her head, somewhere between a nod of admission and bow of resignation, the prince took in another breath to speak.

“Wouldn’t you have sent him off to the barracks or left him to rot in the jail as you said? All for the cheers of the townsfolk that would forget the following day. And a capable young man would waste his youth, while you leave his mother to die! Aren’t you a son yourself?”

The king retorted, “says you, you flimsy, petulant bastard!”

The prince gets up and takes a step out of his seat to be by his father’s side.

“You think that you can control everything, and that everything is in accordance with your will. So then who’s to blame for how I’ve turned out a flimsy, petulant bastard? Especially since I take after you.”

“Issay!” The queen cried in exasperation. Rising with the intention of pulling him aside, she would find herself late as the king draws his arm and delivers a forceful blow to the prince, who stumbles with the motion of the blow and sees familiar spots bloom like mold in his vision, and a green tint filtered his vision with a feeling of faintness weighing him down. He sank and took one knee to the marble floor with a dull thud. It was sure to bruise badly, all sorts of colours. Still, he kept his torso upright and waited for warmth to return to him, though the tingling would need a while more. He remembered to inhale deeply, keeping his mind conscious. Despite the ringing in his ears turning the voices around him soft and unclear, he could hear his own in his mind. 

“Hematoma.”

He had learned this word from Lord Tsuchiya, a courtier who had been a teacher to him. In the previous year he had gotten into trouble and sustained a strange bruise. It was a ring of deep colours with a yellow centre that was both numb and sore. One of the maids said it should be iced, and another said it should be warmed. They had learned different things from different people, so he asked his teacher, who remembered reading about medical science for some time, what he should do. The older man was quite alarmed by the state of him, and muttered the word once. Every now and then the prince would repeat it in his head. It had a sort of ring to it, strangely.

Issay was still within reach as he recovered his senses, but didn’t move. It was fine if his father did worse. He waited as he collected himself, wondering if he’d strike again, but the king sat ashamed having proved his son right. When he looked at his child on the floor, he felt a twinge of remorse even if just for a moment. It was often like this before he could calm down. His young son, who he would gradually lose time for, used to come up to him and ask him to read storybooks out loud, and wanted to sit together with him on his throne. He had wondered before, if it was the moment he had grown too big to sit on his lap that he grew resentful of his son. Though, he didn’t feel that way about his younger son. He never gave himself enough time to think about those feelings that continuously arose. He just hoped for this matter, like all others, to come to an end. The disquieting silence grew unbearable, and eventually the prince couldn’t bear being in it any longer and spoke.

“The peasant boy,” he began, heaving himself onto his feet. “I’ve asked for him to come to the palace once he is in good shape. I will see to his reform. The guards should be aware of this.”

Issay didn’t think about his unfinished dinner as he turned to face away from the table and distanced himself from it. It was more peaceful for everyone if he left, and anyway he wasn’t hungry after the ordeal. He found it hard to eat under such pressure, so he often didn’t, and it showed. At least with his vest and jacket, it wasn’t so apparent to the public. His limber form didn’t bother him either, but it certainly gave the king more to complain about. Taking in a breath more arduous than it should’ve been, he questioned if he was really alright staying this way and putting himself in danger as he tended to. He shrugged and let it go. There were better things to worry about, and he felt fortunate that the only real problem he had in his life was not getting along with his father.

“He will need experience and knowledge to make a steady and honest living. Then he can support his ailing mother and not resort to drastic measures like we’d seen earlier.”

Even though he strode to the doorway briskly, he would stop dead in his tracks before passing the arched frame of it, expecting a response. It came once he showed his intention to listen.

“You are quite sure of him, my son.”

Bowing his head, somewhere between agreement and submission, Issay replied, “I’d like to believe you are as sure of me as I am of him, father.”

Atsushi returns home with the medicine in hand. He doesn’t wake his mother since she’s resting, instead lighting a lamp by the door and taking it with him into the house to the kitchen. He walked on the balls of his feet, only setting them down fully whenever he stood still. There was still enough kindling, charcoal and various scraps of bamboo and wood to light a fire. There were some vegetables, salt, rice and a tin of barley to cook. He had managed to grow some spring onions and sweet potato leaves from scraps found in trash bags along the street, but after a modest morning harvest, he would have to give the plants some time to regrow before picking from them again.

He remembered that it had been a while since he added more soil to the garden bed. The soil presently there had come from a garden nearby, and he took a little of the bark and mulch that they would occasionally add to the soil whenever he could, at night from the fringes of the garden. They didn’t grow all that fast, so he was thinking of growing some more but they didn’t have much land left for growing. Otherwise, it might have been a good plan to grow and sell some vegetables too. These were the thoughts that floated in the forefront of his mind in recent days.

He thought about various ways to get a better variety of food on the table, to preserve the last of the money he had received from his brother. His suspicion was that his mother kept falling ill since there wasn’t enough nutrition in their food to help her recover. If he did pawn the ring that was currently in his pocket, he couldn’t guess how much it would earn him, but it would definitely be possible to buy a chicken or two. A slightly broken wire coop that he found and took home would be decent enough to keep them safe. There were a lot of wild weeds and vegetables they could feed on, which made him wonder if he should try going into the hilly outskirts of town to pick wild vegetables once he was in better shape.

It was something he’d tried before, but the times that he did, he was hesitant to pick more than a couple of bunches in case the plants would never sprout again if too severely pruned. The thought of accidentally picking something poisonous that looked similar to an edible plant also made him too paranoid about foraging. He had read about a few instances in the newspaper before. So far, nothing bad happened to him though, and since he needed more greens, he thought it would be a good idea to try again soon. As he waited for the rice to cook, Atsushi imagined that the other people who he had encountered picking wild vegetables might have been in a similar situation to him. Was it really their fault that they were struggling? It was hard to put the blame on anyone else, but he knew there was a reason this question always came to him.  

The sun had long set by the time he was done making porridge. His mother had woken up by herself and in his excitement to present the medicine to her, Atsushi poured a half cup of water and briskly headed over to her bedside. She questions how he managed to afford them before accepting the powder sachet, and he explains the unusual encounter that he had experienced in the daytime. Worried but too weak to protest his help, she doesn’t think to doubt him or refuse out of politeness or guilt. As much as she felt that a mother should provide for her son, she knew that she was incapable until her health improved. Atsushi returns to the kitchen to prepare a bowl each for the both of them. He leaves the extra in the pit with a lid over the pot.

He places one bowl on the bedside table while he held the other in his hand, ready to feed his mother. As he sat, he felt a searing sting at his knees as they bent. Not allowing the pain to show in his face as he was being watched, he leaned in with a half a spoonful of porridge that he brought to her mouth. Although he had hoped to head out the next day to go to the market where he could meet a fishmonger friend and make some deliveries, he couldn’t now. He was fearful of anyone who might have been at the scene, and with open wounds that wouldn’t let him escape so easily.  As his mother did her best to eat, he talked to her about the incident. He wasn’t typically chatty, but given that she was barely mobile and stayed at home all day, Atsushi felt she must have been lonely and wanted to occupy her with something new in their largely changing lives.

“Is Prince Issay the older brother?” she asked.

“Yes, the one with curly hair,” he confirmed.

His mother smiled and it relieved him. She might be fine after all.

“He’s the more handsome one. He’s a kind young man. I think he’ll be a good king once he takes over his father,” she said.

“He wouldn’t scare people, but they would still respect him.”

“Even so, there are bad people out there. They might try to take advantage of his graciousness.”

Atsushi quirked an eyebrow and tried to see past the blankness of his mother’s expression. Was she trying to advise him, or was she being playful? Maybe it was just a thought that escaped her, and she wasn’t referring to him at all - the failed thief who was gifted a possession of the prince.

“Are you talking about me?”

She smiled, reaching out for his cheek to pinch it.

“No, unless you plan to turn rotten and usurp the throne?”

Atsushi laughed. The mention of the word ‘rotten’ prickled him with anxiety. Somebody at the town square had called him that. It was relieving that she didn’t consider him already rotten, yet her choice to use it made him question if she had thought of him as such before. He shook his head, otherwise his doubt would eat away at him. If there were ever a possibility of him planning to do something bad, it would be fear that could stop him. 

“I think he can be scary if he has to be,” he said.

“You think so? He did stand up to his own father. It’s terribly brave to oppose the king.”

“I can’t imagine,” he said. He remembered that when his father was still around, he didn’t really even know how to utter a word to him. He was timid, and still was. But at least he made attempts to find work and sometimes love. Yet he could truly not imagine speaking to his father the way the prince talked to the king. Boldly, firmly, without fear. Even if the king was brutal, like rumours said. Did the king raise his hand against his own child? There were rumours of that which he had read about in a gossip column, but he didn’t want to think about anybody sharing such an experience. He just believed that the prince was brave, confident and admirable in that way. He wanted to bravely show himself at the palace and show that he was ready to do better. But that was just a dream, at least it felt unrealistic. 

After cleaning up the dishes, Atsushi lit the lamp hanging in the bathroom before he helped his mother into it, setting her down on a stool where she could bathe. Though she would take a while, she was able to relieve and dress herself independently and make her way out after gaining some energy. While she was at it, Atsushi had a look inside the cabinet where there were some bandages and antiseptic ointment to use thankfully, but he didn’t want to waste a precious resource. There was still a little bit of money left so he could spare a day to heal. He could watch over his mother too.

It was a painful bath that began with him wincing at the stinging of his wounds as water first trickled over them. Even if his tolerance was high, it still hurt. The cold water did soothe the pain a little, but the soap running over his skinned knees made him tense up. He dried himself before blowing out the lamp’s flame to preserve the kerosene. He decided to leave his wounds uncovered after a few drops of the ointment. He would be sleeping on his back tonight, and though it was a little cold, he wasn’t able to wear pants. He laid the torn pants across the mattress where his legs would be, just to make sure his weeping wounds wouldn’t stain it.

Before blowing out the candle by his mother’s bedside, he brought a glass of water to it and placed the ring which he’d removed from the pocket of his pants there. The ruby reflected the candlelight beautifully, but he had to put it out after admiring it for some time. He vowed to visit the palace the day after, willing himself to be healed up enough by then. If he waited too long, the prince might forget about him. Even if he was ashamed of himself and felt afraid, he wanted to go there somehow. Atsushi believed that he had great friends who he could trust, but he refused to burden them with his troubles. They were struggling with their own responsibilities too. He didn’t feel worthy of a visit, or capable at all of repaying the prince for his kindness. However, he did owe the prince. At the very least, he could do as he was told, and he hoped that there would be a way for him to make the prince happy.

Chapter Text

Atsushi arrived at the gates of the palace, in a loose cotton shirt neatly tucked into his trousers, as clean a pair as he could find. He put on a pair of suspenders from his brother’s wardrobe since they looked better than the one he owned, and he wanted to look as presentable as he could. He used a bit of leather conditioner on the shoes he would wear, which he found in his brother’s toolbox that he’d left behind. The pants he wore were a little baggy, but with his knees bandaged, the additional room was necessary to accommodate movement. Even though he owned a bicycle, Atsushi was unsure about riding it in his condition. It wasn’t an awfully long walk, but his house was quite a distance from the palace which was also uphill. Fortunately it was fairly breezy, so he approached it at a leisurely pace, keeping his head low when people were around, but otherwise enjoyed looking at colourful enamel coated railings, planters with flowers and swaying willow trees.

The facade of the palace had accents of gold to compliment the various warm tones of the natural stone used to construct it. Iron fences pierced the air with their narrow, pointed tips and surrounded the perimeter of the building and the land surrounding it. The gate joining the fencing was taller and arched, and two guards stood by it. Seeing that, Atsushi quickly turned on his heel and took a detour down the nearest street. It would only take a couple of minutes to circle back to the main road, or he could walk home from here. The rigid form of the guards made him feel uncertain about getting through. He didn’t know if there was another way in, besides writing a formal request, but it wouldn’t be received fast enough. However, the prince did tell him to go to the palace, so he hoped that an arrangement had already been made somehow.

Once he emerged again at the main road, he knew he had to go to the gate. He got dressed just for this after all. The minutes he spent advancing towards the guards allowed him to sum up the confidence to speak. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m here to see Prince Issay.”

With no change to his expression, one of the guards replied, “the royal family doesn’t accept spontaneous meetings and adheres to a strict schedule unless urgent matters arise.”

Atsushi began to explain himself. “The day before in the town’s square, his highness asked me to come here. And-” he managed before abruptly pausing to reach into his pocket.

Pulling out the ring which he hadn’t yet pawned, he showed it to the guard. “This is his ring. He- his highness gave it to me.”

Suspicious, the guards first took a harder look, though the further from Atsushi was quick to resume a ready stance, turning his attention fully to the potential intruder in case he was in the process of pulling off a trick. The one who did inspect the metal and gems thought to claim it and return it because it appeared real enough, but it seemed impossible that the young man had stolen from the royals. He had seen the ring on the prince’s hand, and knew that it was made only for him. It might have been a fake, but he didn’t know how to solve this on his own. It wasn’t a part of his duty anyway. He scrutinised the man in front of him, his eyes were wide and he appeared earnest, no telltale signs that suspicious people would display. He didn’t falter and kept the ring pinched between his fingertips. Looking down at it, he rotated it as if to show its shine, making no attempt to conceal any aspect of it even after some time. The guards looked at each other, and the one nearer to Atsushi broke his stance and presented his hand, gesturing for the ring to be handed over. Atsushi placed it in the guard’s hand, then he turned towards the gate.

“Wait a moment please,” he said, pulling on an iron bar to open the heavy gate. He stepped through it and made his way up the front steps towards the door. The other guard stayed alert and kept watch on the stranger.

The guard went to a maid who waited by the door and conveyed the situation outside to her. He showed her the ring which she too was convinced was authentic. She confirmed that she had heard someone would soon arrive from another maid who served dinner, but it hadn’t yet reached the guards as they weren’t expecting him so soon, and it wasn’t certain who would communicate the order nor who should receive it. She hurries to peek out of the door and takes a look at the visitor. He looked ahead with his hands clasped in front of him, polite and shy but with a striking face. The maid and guard spared a moment between them to sigh and think. He didn’t look so ordinary despite his clothing and informal approach. Perhaps he was really a guest of the prince, but in civilian disguise? Unfortunately, appearances didn’t accurately reflect the inner workings of the royal staff palace. They were at times disorganised and out of sync.

“Let me go and inform the prince of his arrival. I’ll return with the intention of his highness,” said the maid before heading off.

Up a flight of stairs, down a wide hallway and left turn into one corner of the building was the study of Prince Issay, the place where he spent the majority of his time as a homebody. He wasn’t the most sociable person, but he was, in the opinion of the household staff, the most approachable out of all the royal family members. He didn’t have many duties that kept him busy regularly, so he was simply reading in there a lot of times. She knocked on the door and let him know that a guest was waiting outside of the palace and had called his name.

“Come in,” he said, and so she let herself in. After a gentle bow, she reiterated that a guest had arrived for him. When asked to describe the guest, the maid first said that he had long, straight hair and was tall, but stopped as she realised she might have been too vague. Many men looked just like that.

“I regret if this sounds judgmental, but his face is… a little frightening,” she said apprehensively.

The prince nodded. “If that’s how you see it. May you please see him in? Bring him here.”

The maid tells the guard to allow the young man in, and he is guided in and given the ring back. He’s then led to the prince’s study, where the already-opened door revealed him perched on his armchair with a spread of papers before him on a blackwood desk. Even as he faced the table, he was easily recognisable by wavy tresses. His hair was a little frizzier than usual, at least when he was seen outside or had his picture taken, but it still looked lush.

“Pardon me your highness, this is the visitor who has arrived asking for your time.” 

Issay looked up, and his eyes widened at the sight of the man. He appeared fresh despite the event just days ago. His white shirt was rather oversized but tucked in neatly at the waist. His black trousers were wider than what was normally seen worn, but fit his slender waist fairly well. The man bowed deeply, but didn’t say a word. He seemed unsure of what he should do, but it was expected since it was likely the first time he was ever in such an unfamiliar situation. There might not have been someone around him who could inform him of proper etiquette when it came to interacting with those of a higher status.

Nodding towards the maid, the prince said, “Thank you. Please give us some privacy and let anybody who asks know that I am here with a guest until further notice. Refreshments please, nothing too fanciful.”

Issay then welcomed the man in and asked him to take a seat. He noticed that he was slow to descend into the chair, and the image of his injuries flashed in his head. 

“Extend your legs out towards me,” he promptly suggested.

The skin around his knees must have been tight. Hesitantly, Atsushi nodded and thanked the prince, and straightened his legs out under the table, but only towards the side of it, away from the prince’s. He glanced at the prince but was hesitant to look at him directly despite their previous interaction. Once he noticed that he was being looked at in return, he became shy too. Prince Issay had wide eyes and a warm gaze with a certain pull. There was a regality yet gentleness to his features, but he didn’t look long enough to pinpoint what it was.

After a moment of silence, Issay asked, “are you… your knees were hurt, weren’t they? Are they better this soon?”

“They’re getting better. Thank you for asking.” Atsushi was quiet for a moment before he added, “your highness.”

He was reserved despite baring his truth openly just days earlier. It wasn’t strange that he was uneasy though. There was tight security, this was the royal palace, and it felt like one wrong move might get him in trouble.

“I won’t be requesting too much of you until you’re fully mobile.”

They were silent for a while before a knock on the door informed them that the maid had returned. The prince stood up to open the door for her, which felt bizarre to his guest who couldn’t respond as quickly as him. He, like many others, was under the impression that the royals didn’t really do anything themselves. With plenty of staff around, wouldn’t doors simply open for them? It was hard to imagine that the prince would open a door for someone beneath him who served him and bowed to him, but he did so casually, as if it were normal. The maid wheeled in a cart with a glass pot of floral tea and a tray with assorted cut fruits. The prince didn’t want something that might intimidate his humble guest, so he thought it was a good choice. He smiled and thanked her before she left, and Atsushi watched this exchange with a touch of wonder in his heart. Prince Issay seemed kind.

He lifted a hand towards the pot but stopped and left it hovering above it as he remembered that the tea should still steep longer. Then he thought to bring the platter of fruits to the table and offer his guest a plate, but realised they hadn’t even introduced themselves to each other. He chided himself for his restlessness. Retracting his hand, he smiled wryly, a little embarrassed as he attempted to reset the scene that his guest had hopefully not observed so attentively. 

“They are far too serious when it comes to honorifics here. You must call me Prince Issay, and his highness if speaking with others, but really, excuse all the formalities. It’s a bit exhausting and archaic. Your name?”

Their eyes meet again.

“I’m Sakurai Atsushi. Pleased to meet you.” He bowed slightly. Issay smiled at his politeness, that was so inadequate to greet royalty, but exceedingly sincere in a way that warmed him. He didn’t enjoy being bowed deeply to, knelt before, carefully spoken to with trembling words or nauseating verbosity in a way that felt rehearsed and unnatural. Real, human interactions were important to him, because he mostly witnessed them, but felt they seldom involved him.

Extending his arm out for a handshake, the prince said, “Atsushi, welcome to my study.”

Atsushi reached out to grasp his hand, firmly but not hard. A single shake and they both drew away from each other.

“Here, and the adjoining library are where all of my prized possessions are kept. Souvenirs and art I collect and all of my books,” the prince said, pointing with his eyes which flitted across the room at various objects.

His guest looked around him at the beautiful things on display. He thought that there were certain characteristics that they shared and were perhaps a reflection of their owner too. The frames and casings of various paintings, taxidermy and artefacts too were ornate, or made of materials that looked expensive. The wood was dark, and in fact, the room had an earthy smell to it. A line of smoke rose from the top of an floral embossed silver case with holes between flowers and vines. Something was burning inside of it. There were a lot of things in there that Atsushi had never seen before.

“I haven’t read or explored much, even if I’d like to,” he admitted.

To Issay, it was nice that he could speak such a casual sentence, said seemingly without motive. Perhaps he was trusting of the prince, and it pleased him.

“Good,” the prince smiled.

He glanced at the intensifying reddish tint that was diffusing into the clear water inside of the teapot. It should still steep longer, maybe until Atsushi dared to look him in the eyes again.

“I suppose from your first run in with the law, you weren’t permitted to continue schooling. Now, with this second incident, you would have landed yourself in prison if you weren’t so lucky as to be caught in the right place.”

Atsushi nodded sheepishly. “Thankfully, I was in your sight.”

“I would like for you to work at the palace. At the moment, your job won’t pay enough for you to take care of your mother and yourself. You will be paid sufficiently here. What’s more important is that you’ll get to learn, whether from experience or studying.”

Inspecting the marbling of the table, the younger man asked, “what would I be studying?”

“Well… to be honest, the only thing I’ve decided is that I would like you to assist me in organising the library. I can’t really say, there’s no specialism that is most valued or in demand that would concern you. At least while you’re new. It doesn’t have to be decided so early.”

“I’m grateful for any opportunity, I’ll do my best.”

It wasn’t surprising that Atsushi didn’t have questions about the library or his role. The door to it was closed, and it had been for some time. The study was a little cluttered, with short stacks of books piling up in front of packed shelves, while some wrapped items, paintings on canvas and wood, were leaning against the wall directly behind the prince. Then there were many other ornamental things scattered around the furniture. It wasn’t untidy, so it was fair to assume that the library was somewhat similar. In that case, he couldn’t imagine what he would be tasked with, nor the need for change. There was a lot to take in, and he found himself lost, but patiently and trustingly awaiting instruction.

“Do you want to have a peek at the library?”

Atsushi nodded.

“Take a look for yourself, I’d like to see your reaction.”

As told, he got up and looked back for confirmation as he touched the door handle. The prince nodded, leaning to his side as he reached for the teapot then. Atsushi twisted the door handle, and gave a light push. 

Looking in, the first thing his eyes focused on was one bookshelf that had toppled over. A tier on another one had fallen but the rest were still standing. There was a fringed carpet in the centre, creating breathing space between the two columns of shelves. A pillow was on it, which made Atsushi wonder if somebody tended to sit or lay there reading. Throughout the library, books were strewn across the floor, and some papers were scattered too. He stared blankly at the mess for a moment, then closed the door to return to his seat. His eyes seemed just a little wider, and his eyebrows just a little higher. Now his face wasn’t so scary anymore.

“No comments?” the prince chuckled. He held the glass lid down as he tilted the pot to fill the two cups.

“I’m sorry if it’s intrusive of me, but may I ask what happened?”

His meek and cautious approach made Issay laugh again. He took in a sharp breath as though he would speak, but closed his mouth and his expression disappeared in an instant as he thought. The cups were both filled and the pot was set aside. Clasping his hands, which Atsushi glanced at and noted were even more slender than his, he let go of the breath he was holding with a sigh.

“If you remember, there was that earthquake some time ago.”

Atsushi’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Thankfully it did. And for certain, the earthquake had caused some things to topple over. It may have explained the books and paintings in piles on the floor too. However, the earthquake wasn’t that recent. The prince could see the cogs in Atsushi’s brain turning as he silently looked across the room. He wasn’t suspicious, and he had no intention or need to interrogate him further, but just for assurance, his own more than his guest’s, Issay decided to elaborate.

“There’s always been bigger matters to attend to, so… It’s certainly been a while now and that’s precisely why I’ve decided to find someone to help me with the library. And I don’t want to let just anyone inside here around all these things. I trust the staff here, but these are still precious to me.”

His words were contemplated for a few moments. “But I’m a thief,” Atsushi then said.

The prince couldn’t think of a way to explain his trust in the young man. It wasn’t out of the question, but he just didn’t think that he would be stealing again with the promise of work and pay. But when he tried to put his feelings into words, it came as a surprise that he would fumble over his words and in the first place, struggle to find them.

“I suppose. I don’t think you- I’m not saying the books are of no worth to you, but… but you wouldn’t steal them, right?” he said, and heat prickled the back of his neck. What an absurd thing to ask!

Atsushi thought it was funny how the prince phrased his words but since he seemed flustered, perhaps he was truly anxious about the handling of his books. He nodded, and to the relief of the prince, didn’t acknowledge his being unnerved before asking more about the situation in the library. 

“Is there a way that they were initially organised?”

“You’ll find that there are labels on most books. There should be a location, author’s name, genre and date on many, but there is missing information for a number of them. Those books that were found rather than gifted or bought especially.”

He paused as he observed the mess again, trying to visualise how the shelves used to be before everything turned into a wreck.

“They weren’t organised based on the paper labels. It was in alphabetical order, and I went through the books one by one, or chose a letter I felt like reading. Over time it got a little messed up but stayed in order for the most part. It wasn’t a great setup. I’m hoping you might have an idea.”

Issay watched the steam rise from both cups. It would be a minute before the tea was of a reasonable temperature, and in that minute, he could learn a thing or two about Atsushi.

“Let’s not get to work so quickly, have a seat first.”

He serves them both, and urges his guest to take what he wished from the fruit platter, especially since he likely didn’t get to enjoy much variety usually. It seemed like it would be more polite to agree than refuse the prince’s offer, so Atsushi took a piece of everything, which would leave a portion of each different fruit for his company too. He was careful but not slow to arrange them neatly on his plate, which Issay noted but didn’t find to be ostentatious. From the gentle way he handled the silverware and furniture, to his manner of speech and cautious gestures, it was clear to him that this was his natural way of being. It wouldn’t be an issue, letting him deal with the books and artefacts in the two rooms. They were definitely in safe hands.

The pair ate and exchanged glances, savouring the sweetness on their tongues. The tea had cooled enough, so Atsushi picked up his cup to drink from it. He wasn’t sure if the prince’s silence meant he should make conversation, and he didn’t know what was appropriate to speak about with royalty. It was safe to talk about the library and the work that was cut out for him at least. Atsushi meekly suggested that he could arrange the books by genre first and for those which lacked labels, he could make the labels, though he wasn’t yet sure of how he’d determine the genre of each book. Then he proposed that one shelf could consist of his favourite or frequently used books could be made, or a coloured label for that could be produced.

Atsushi spoke in almost a murmur, a soft and low voice that made the prince lean forward a little even if he could hear him fairly well. Noticing this, he took it as a hint to speak up, but Issay remained closer to him, looking up at him in acknowledgement of the change in volume. After giving his input, the younger man brought his cup to his lips, taking a sip. Fondness spread across the prince’s face, tugging the corners of his lips and creating gentle creases under his eyes. 

“Before you start thinking about those books, tell me about yourself.”

Over tea and bites of fruit, they talked about his background. About how he grew up, the kind of things he did for fun before there wasn’t much time left for fun, the kind of student he was, how things went awry. Most importantly, Issay wanted to know if Atsushi had any dreams. He found that he didn't really have interesting answers, since he mostly thought about mundane needs. There were needs for the near future that were on his mind, and his dreams, or what he thought were considered dreams, revolved around them. Having a plot to grow vegetables, even if he was bad at tending to them, and having chickens. If he could get a new, cleaner house without remnants of a tense past on its walls to start over in, he would work towards that. Nodding, the prince felt guilty for wanting to laugh, because he found such a dream adorably humble and practical, but he didn’t entirely have dreams of his own either. Thinking about it, he became still and his eyes fixed onto the table, unfocused.

“What about you? Do you dream of becoming king someday?”

It was such an innocent question with no concerning implications, but one that might have angered Issay if it wasn’t said by Atsushi, who knew nothing about him, and who was simply curious about him. There were no stakes in the privacy of his study, in this conversation between himself and his guest. Yet it was pressuring to develop an answer. One that didn’t cause him to divulge every grievance, all bitterness and conflict he felt, which wasn’t easy at all. He was selective about who he talked to and what he allowed himself to say typically, being in his position, and there weren’t many opportunities for casual conversations. When they did arise, it wasn’t as though people would ask him such questions. In fact, questions he got asked were rarely about himself. There was always his family, or the people, or the kingdom in the picture, never just the prince, who was seen as potential and assurance but seldom anything more.

“King,” he muttered under his breath, deciding on his answer. It wouldn’t come to him in a clear and concise form, but he was almost bursting from the need to speak about how he felt for once. 

“Well, I… believe I’m capable, but I often wonder about the life of a commoner, or even just of nobility. Not entirely occupied by the thought of running this kingdom and honouring this name.”

Even if he tried to restrain himself, he found that his inner voice wouldn’t quieten long into the night if he did, so he threw caution to the wind.

“I’d say that I wouldn’t mind, though that isn’t wanting it, but again, it’s all I know.”

Worry warmed Atsushi who felt contrastingly cold sweat piercing his skin as it dawned on him that he may have made the prince uncomfortable. Then he felt guilty for upsetting the one who had graciously reached out to help him.

“I apologise if the question was inappropriate. A-and you can correct me or stop me if I say something that isn’t unseemly. In the first place, I don’t have many peers, let alone encounters with people above my class.”

Against his instincts, the ever fearful Atsushi made it a point to show his sincerity by looking straight at the prince. He was determined to make things right. However, the prince hadn’t taken any offense nor did he mind the discomfort brought on by an unsuspectingly difficult question. It was good for him, and he thought it would only make him more confident if he could understand himself better.

The prince sighed, “I do wish there weren’t such stark differences between us all. A shoemaker shouldn’t earn much less than a guardsman, since the guardsman has no shoes without the shoemaker. Some people prance around and make others laugh, some people sit in a court and impose a life sentence onto others. Everyone has a purpose.”

Atsushi largely agreed with a soft hum, but thought he would exclude himself from the picture. He didn’t have a purpose besides being a good son, and he didn’t feel like he was a very good one. They sat quietly once again, letting the tea keep the tension low as they sipped from their cups. The younger man felt unsure about how the prince responded to his apology. Maybe it wasn’t worth acknowledgement so the prince ignored it, or maybe it wasn’t even an issue at all, and now he felt embarrassed. Meanwhile, Issay wondered where the conversation was going. He didn’t mean to assert his righteousness or force his opinion onto others, but he felt strongly about all sorts of things and couldn’t contain his emotions at times but he knew it could be intimidating. He observed that the pads of Atsushi’s fingers were pressed against his teacup. It would have been fine to move on and let the atmosphere soften itself gradually, but it was kinder to try and make amends. 

“I appreciate questions of sincere curiosity. It’s alright to ask me anything personal as long as your questions are… non-compromising. Like where I keep my keys,” Issay chuckled.

The mood instantly lightened as his guest smiled to his relief. As he then shook his head as to say “I absolutely wouldn’t”, his silky, long hair fell over his face, just like it did on the day that they met. This time though, he looked happy. Sweeping aside the black locks obstructing his vision, a peculiar smirk and glinting eyes took the prince by surprise.

“Then do you think a jester should earn as much as a judge?” the man asked.

The prince laughed. Atsushi was really listening when he said he could be asked anything, and suddenly, he had become quite playful.

“Entertainment is important isn’t it? And humour, good humour, is a measure of intelligence too. Then to be able to convey it concisely, or dramatically, or creatively, to an audience, whether nobility or common folk. In the past, jesters even advised royalty aside from entertaining them. It’s all more marvellous and complex than what it appears to be,” he said.

“Any simpler than becoming a judge?” The young man quizzed the prince.

“Atsushi, you’re trying to have me draw quite a clear conclusion, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t like him to be bold, but there were moments that an impulse came through. Somehow, this would be one of the times. A private meeting over tea with royalty that would determine if he could be pulled from poverty, where the thrill of his own words escaping him was freeing even if fleeting. He flashed a grin at the prince’s words, quickly pursing his lips in an attempt to suppress himself. Though he was aware that the question wasn’t entirely serious, Issay was intent on answering. The last of Atsushi’s smile faded, and they looked at each other once again.

“You know,” Issay began. “It’s all ridiculous, being royal especially. This sense of responsibility we inherit, and the blind trust of the people who easily accept that there are ones worthy of deciding what order and peace look like.”

Atsushi tilted his head and pondered his words silently. He did trust the prince, but not blindly, and not because he was royalty. It was easy to think that he was worthy of administrative matters, and that he was capable of governing the kingdom. None of it had to do with his bloodline, which people who had fallen through the cracks most certainly did not trust to help them.

“Regardless, it’s important to me. When I hear what the townsfolk have to say, when I read what the scribes present to me, there is a lot of work to do here. Learning how to get things done gives me the motivation to achieve them.”

The idea of him learning instead of knowing appealed to the younger man, especially since it came up in their earlier conversation. There was a humility and determination in the prince that he appreciated, and that made him feel motivated too.

Atsushi hums. “It sounds like you would make a good king.” Pausing briefly with his eyes hitting the ceiling, he then added, “only if you want to.”

Issay chuckled at his courtesy, and a bashful smile spread across the young man's face.

“I wish I had a choice, but somehow I think I might still choose to be.”

Chapter Text

Atsushi entered the palace with ease to his surprise. He offered a gentle bow to the guards at the gate who silently let him through without a question. Like Prince Issay said, if he wore the provided attire which had been given to him before he left the previous day, he would be allowed to enter and leave the palace without a hitch. The palace staff had been informed of him as well, and he had distinctly long tresses that made it easy to recognise him. The suit given to him would be his uniform while working, and another set in his true size would be made for him after a fitting. He was also told that the clothes would be laundered at the palace even if he wasn’t staying there yet.

He was shocked by the idea of having to leave home, especially since his mother wasn’t well, and he wasn’t prepared at all to live on his own even though he was an adult. All his life, his mother had pampered him while his older brother fended for them. Even though he had begun to offer the support that he could, he didn’t feel competent enough to be on his own, even if his meals and laundry were settled. To his great relief, the prince said that he wasn’t required to stay on the palace grounds as of yet. It was kind of him to mention that it would be an abrupt change, and that he probably needed to settle things in his home first.

The same maid that escorted him the previous day led the way once again just to make sure he knew where to go. Atsushi greeted her with a cautious smile as she stopped him outside the door of the study and faced him, taking in his new appearance. It seemed that a gentler expression was what it took for her to decide to give him a hand in looking more presentable. She tugged the adjustable waist tabs on his vest and pants and adjusted the collar of his shirt to make them tidy. She informed him that the jacket appeared tight on his broad shoulders, and the trousers were only slightly too short, but that his measurements would be taken by a tailor soon for his suit to replace the ill-fitting one he had on. After thanking her, he proceeded in.

“Have you had lunch?” Issay asked immediately after they exchanged greetings. There was a pot of tea on the cart by his desk, and a half-smoked cigarette and ash in a small tray next to it. Atsushi wondered if that was lunch, considering the prince’s figure, but he thought there must have been something besides it. He would hope that he was the only one between the two of them that needed to go hungry. He nodded, and was then offered a cup of tea. The prince gestured for him to sit as he seemed uncertain about whether he should. Slowly, the younger man descended, still wary about the wounds on his knees that made them hard to bend.

“I’ve got a couple of surveys to read today. You see, there’s something that a few citizens have brought to my attention over the past few months since we’ve received an influx of traders as we’ve sent our own out on commission. I just need to finish this part and then…”

He realised that Atsushi, who looked at him blankly after a gentle nod, might have not understood a few things that had been said. Instead of dismissing the importance of his own words and sparing the unnecessary effort, Issay wanted to explain himself clearly. After all, if he spoke in a similar manner to commoners, who made up the majority of the population, they too would be unsure of the meaning and implications of what he said.

“I sent a few people such as an apothecary, a doctor and a botanist to find out more about various herbs and the people who use them. There were reports of ill behaviour and health from family members of labourer sons and husbands who consumed them. They aren’t herbs that grow here, so we have to research them since they appear dangerous. Then, we’ll need to think of a way to make people lose interest in them.”

Curiously, Atsushi asked, “are there many kinds of herbs?”

“Seeds, leaves, stems and even roots. It would seem that they come from different plants as they have different effects. Mainly, we’d consider most of them what we call ‘stimulants’. That appears to be the reason why those who work in construction, mills or mines favour them. It helps them cope with the intense work and to fight off lethargy.”

“They’re medicinal, but with side effects.”

“Yes. Then there are those that aren’t exactly useful for anything but getting a bit loopy and strange.”

Atsushi laughed. He heard from his friend about such things as he was travelling on a roadshow and came across them. He might have to warn him if they were bad. Then, he observed the prince for a while. It seemed like while Issay was in the midst of reading the survey results, there wouldn’t be instructions supplied to him. It felt a bit strange sitting in silence, with only the calls of birds on the outside cutting through the static. Atsushi peeked over at the papers as he thought about their subject. 

“The people conducting the surveys are from different backgrounds too, so did you have to give them specific things to research?” Atsushi asked.

There was a long pause where he stared at the prince’s sharp nose that was pointed towards the papers. He had thick eyelashes that matched the volume of hair on his head. Drawing a sharp breath, Issay looked up and gave his answer. 

“Well, I did consider that they might all find a unique observation or lead based on their specialisms and we’d make better progress that way by collecting diverse results from each researcher. Besides that, since they will then become the best informed on the issue, an array of educated opinions would really help the administration in deciding their course of action against these drugs.”

The prince neatened the stack of paper on his desk, tapping at the edges with his trimmed nails. Picking up a pen from a slim velvet stationery case, he then uncapped it and drew a short line under a word, marking the point that he had stopped reading.

“Drugs…” Atsushi muttered.

“That’s really what it is, isn’t it? People are starting to get addicted to them. We’re going to have the horticultural team from the royal gardens explore cultivating each one. My worry is that people have begun attempting to grow these herbs. I want to know if that’s possible, and if it will become our next concern, after the sale and use of the plants.”

Atsushi’s wide eyes gleamed, and he seemed quite amazed at something that felt ordinary to the prince. He couldn’t even guess what had piqued the younger man’s interest.

“It must be serious if there’s so many people working on the same problem.”

The prince nodded as he said, “as we discussed yesterday, everyone has a role, and even if some are minor, they are equally important. If any person is missing, we might not find the best solution.”

“It’s amazing that there’s an expert in everything. Even growing plants. I don’t even know how somebody gets to work in the royal gardens…”

“Well, you can’t just apply there, it’s true.” The prince laughed.

“Should I… should I have grown lots of flowers in front of my house or something?” There was a hint of mischief as he approached the end of his sentence. 

Issay chuckled at the mental image of a boy anxiously standing by the pavement before his house, splattered with colourful blooms and lush greenery awaiting the eyes of the royal garden scouter. No, that wasn’t how a horticulturalist was chosen, but it was an amusing thought.

“You know, that would be lovely even though you wouldn’t get a job in the gardens. But if that’s really what you would like, you can work towards it once the library is restored.”

He was surprised by the offer, and the fact he even had a say or choice at all.

“There are some books on the natural sciences scattered around. Please feel free to browse them as you sort.” After a brief pause, Issay then added, “and take your time? There’s no rush at all. The piles of books in this study are all I will be reading for the coming weeks.”

“When should the library be ready?”

“For?” The prince smiled.

Atsushi gave him a blank stare. As long as the books were present, they were ready to be used.

“It is ready as it is, and has always been a work in progress. There’s no deadline, and I will certainly be requesting more books. There is a courtier who is my occasional um… librarian I suppose. Don’t think poorly of him for he doesn’t sort the books. He just manages to procure them for me, then stays around to marvel at the mess. If I have questions, he finds answers, or presents me with a text that tries to.”

Atsushi is even more confused now by a life so different and much more complex than his own. How does a person writing a book even find answers in the first place? If he researches them himself, how does he find the time, or is it his job to do so? There were questions piling up in his mind and he had to shut his eyes as if it would switch them off manually. He accepted what he heard, without voicing his growing curiosity.

“I’ll try to get everything in… some form of proper order. As diligently as possible,” he said.

“I’m sure you will. It will take time, don’t feel pressured as you build up momentum.”

With firm nods, he rose, ready to get to work.

“Oh, but if you’re unsure of anything, do tell me. I will be focused on the surveys for today, but you may begin sorting if you’re able to. There are dictionaries and encyclopedias if they’ll help. Glossaries should be found in certain books about a subject. Go slow, read everything if you please.”

It was a bit overwhelming to start, but Atsushi, filled with determination, decided to simply pick up the first book and inspect it. He had gone towards a corner of the library first, to keep himself out of view as he didn’t want to be seen as he tried to yield what he could from the sun-faded label on the book’s binding, then its contents. A handwritten slip of paper had noted down page numbers and labelled them with phrases. It was an epic of sorts, fictional but set in the world that they lived in. He placed it on an empty shelf, making it the first marker of its kind, and then he picked up another book, feeling a little more confident this time.

After a few goes at various books around his feets, Atsushi doesn’t feel the need to hide. He moves towards the door frame, where Prince Issay might see him if he were to peek in. It would be good to show him that work was being done, so he stayed within view, glancing over occasionally just in case he was being looked at. If he was caught, the prince would see that he was trying, and hopefully doing a good job. He stood as he inspected a thick book with a lambskin cover. This one had illustrations and unfamiliar diagrams between columns of text. As Atsushi flipped through its pages, he realised some were made of different fibres, or perhaps they were made using a different technique. The book appeared to be a compilation of works about the ocean. There was a portion just about tides and how to predict the lowest lows and highs.

A shelf was chosen for the natural sciences, and the leather-bound book soon gained acquaintances. Atsushi picked out books which clearly identified themselves with pictures, titles or embossing on their covers and checked them before propping them up beside each other on the shelf. Ones about the sea went to one side, ones about the landscape on the other. An index of trees found its place in the middle.

Standing up after crouching down for some time, a light tingling around the crown of his head alarmed the young man. When he was fully upright, he realised that he was now a bit queasy, and feeling increasingly so as he made himself aware of his body’s sensations. He looked back into the other room and could see the prince making his way through another cigarette, with the tip of his pen resting against the paper he was reading, moving to a new point every few seconds. If he could catch him in between one survey and the next, maybe he could enter without distracting him.

He looked at the chair at the desk which he was just sitting in, and rested his body weight against the heavy bookcase as he inspected the book in his hand. His eyes flitted between its contents and the prince who was in his line of vision. Then as he turned the pages, a numbness in his hands became more apparent, and it radiated throughout his head too. He gave one hand a tentative squeeze, to confirm what he was feeling, or not. Unlocking his knees instinctively, he slid down a little while pushing his spine against the hard wood. Should he just sit? 

“Is something the matter?” Came a soft, inquisitive voice from the study.

The prince had quickly noticed Atsushi had been standing directly facing him. Only when the younger man’s motion disappeared from his periphery did he think to check on him. Looking up to the source of the voice, Atsushi panicked. Even though he had something to say, his nerves got the better of him and his words were stuck in his throat. He shook his head and a wave of anxiety surged through his veins as he observed Issay getting out of his chair and making his way over. A waft of his fragrance, woody with a floral touch swept through the air as he came to a halt. He was only an arm’s length away, maybe less, and stood just as tall as he was. When they were nearly toe to toe, he inspected Atsushi without even a hint of an expression.

“You haven’t really eaten, have you? You’re pale,” he stated.

As pale as the prince’s irises were when Atsushi looked into them briefly, then quickly looked away. There was guilt, embarrassment and something else, a sinking feeling in his lower body, or a stir, or hunger. Besides the lightness in his head, there was a lightness to his feet. An instinct to run which wouldn’t do him any favours in this circumstance. Would he really run from somebody who had only been kind to him?

“Tea on an empty stomach isn’t good for you,” Issay advised.

It felt tenser than ever as he instructed Atsushi to lay on the sofa before leaving the room. Static filled Atsushi’s ears as he waited. Somehow, it was the same texture as the tingling across his scalp, which had spread to his body, and now the air around him, which was also hazed over with green. He closed his eyes, and under his lids were also fuzzy green. As he rested, he realised that somehow, he felt calmer since being found out even while anticipating the prince’s return. It was strange not being entirely fearful towards royalty. Even if he was intimidated, beneath the surface was a sureness he felt towards Prince Issay. He wouldn’t get hurt.

Issay walked in and held the door open for the maid who held a tray with a plate and glass on it. There was a roasted chicken breast, potatoes and charred vegetables that Atsushi had never tried before. In the glass was orange juice. The food was set down in front of him as he got himself to sit upright.

“When you’re finished, you can leave everything on the cart,” the maid said. After a  swift curtsy, she was gone.

The prince didn’t say anything after sitting down at his desk and continued to read with a frown, which worried Atsushi. He tried not to make a sound, yet tried not to move so slowly that the prince might notice he was acting odd. The best he could do was eat everything down to the last pulp and be thankful. It would’ve been easy any other time but now when he felt nauseous from the tannins in his belly. Even if he felt bad, he was determined to finish his meal. It wasn’t heavily seasoned, yet it was as tasty of a meal as he’d ever had and seemed big enough to tide him through the day too if need be.

When he was done, the soft clinking of the silverware against the porcelain plate informed the prince of it. Atsushi was told he could sit down and work on the books at his own pace. Issay would regret not specifying that he meant to say that the seats in his study were available for use as he watched the younger man lower himself onto the carpeted ground of the library slowly, still careful about how best not to disturb the healing wounds of his knees as he inevitably had to bend them. He did look comfortable each time the prince checked on him, so he didn’t offer a chair. If he started to adjust himself or stand up again, Issay decided he would insist.

Time would pass as they worked independently on their own tasks. It was quiet except for when the prince muttered a few words or hummed in a low voice as he was writing and reading. His sounds eased Atsushi, who grew more comfortable believing that he wasn’t being watched too closely, and that Issay wasn’t too angry at him over the inconvenience he had caused. Trying to make up for it by staying focused, he stacked scattered books in his radius until the floor cleared up. As he began sorting, there then emerged a few designated piles in a row based on loose themes, and eventually if they grew tall enough, they would enter their respective shelves. Many books were set aside since Atsushi couldn’t determine their contents quite yet. Of those labelled, he sometimes opened to read a little, trying to confirm if they were appropriately categorised. Sometimes he was just curious. He read the synopsis of a romance novel and was intrigued by it. Was this something the prince might have enjoyed, or even requested?

Evening arrived, and Prince Issay informed Atsushi that he should stay for another hour before he was allowed to return home. Nervous about the time and setting sun, the younger man quietly sorts the books in the library and thought about whether his mother would be hungry or worried that he wasn’t back yet. Could she even be up in time to prepare herself a lamp? Otherwise, she would soon be in total darkness. When he looked past the doorframe, he saw the prince with his eyes closed as he faced the table, forehead resting in his hand. Was he tired? Confusion slowed Atsushi down, and though he read the same lines repeatedly his mind couldn’t comprehend the words or pictures. If the prince was tired, maybe they should call it a day. Yet maybe it was his fault for lying and then taking a break when he was supposed to be working. It must have meant he would need to stay longer. The prince would have limits, Atsushi thought. He shouldn’t push them.

He kept his head down and tried his best to understand what the book in his hands was about. The prince watched through the doorway as he silently inspected it. He radiated worry, but he was still diligent despite it. He didn’t rush, and didn’t even look up once. It was a busy day, otherwise Issay might have paid more attention to him and talked more, but recent affairs had him feeling weathered. The tension in the room weighed him down further, as did the feeling of guilt for possibly scaring Atsushi with his unfriendly demeanour.

When the hour had almost gone by, the door to the study opened, and Issay called Atsushi over. The same maid from before presented him a meal to take home to his mother, and another for him. They were stacked in bamboo cases. In one hand was an oil lamp in case he might need it. Most streets had lamp posts but Issay wasn’t sure where he lived and if it might be somewhere far. Atsushi was surprised that he had correctly guessed that it would be of use. There weren’t many lights in the house and though many houses and buildings had already installed electric bulbs, he could not afford it. There was just one lamp by the entrance and another in the living area. 

Surprised, he thanked the maid before she wheeled the lunch cart out of the study, and he thanked Issay, who offered a soft smile in return. He seemed to want to say something, but only gave a light huff. It felt unnecessary to tell Atsushi to take care of himself and his mother. There wasn’t a need to debrief him or give him encouragement, constructive feedback, or say anything at all, but perhaps he was also just lost for thought, waiting to see if Atsushi might speak. He too seemed as though he had something to say, until he set the lamp down to slip his hand into his trouser pocket. 

It was the perfect time to be reminded of the ring which he was hoping to return as he was unsure about pawning something so valuable, especially since it clearly didn’t belong to him. Would the police be called on him? Thinking about it made him nervous as he didn’t want to come across as ungrateful or stubborn, but it was probably worth more than all the money he had ever earned. He presented the ring to the prince and said that since he was now working, he wouldn't pawn the ring since it was made just for him.

Issay asked, “but have you got any money?”

Atsushi had only tried to steal the medication two days ago. He nodded once slightly, still unable to commit fully to his lie, then admitted that he could only tide through the next day or two. The prince hummed, noticing the lack of confidence in his tone of voice as well. He insisted that the ring should be pawned, and that the ruby in it would allow him to rest easy for some time. For a moment, Atsushi would agree with some hesitance. Then, he had an idea. He would pawn the ring, and visit the clinic to repay the doctor. The leftovers would be used for daily needs and saved. The prince smiled and agreed with the idea. As if able to read Atsushi’s thoughts, he said he would write a quick note to verify that the ring was being pawned on his behalf. Once he did so, he slipped the note into the bag Atsushi was holding, then looked up at him with a smile.

Atsushi is shown out as he began to express such profuse gratitude that the prince felt embarrassed and gestured towards the door. He reached his hand out, wanting to grasp Issay but it hovered in the air, knowing that it wasn’t appropriate, nor was it what the prince would have wanted. Issay sees this as an opportunity to pass him the lamp which he had put down on the desk earlier, which they had both just forgotten about, so now both his hands were full, and he was ready to go home.

After saying goodbye, the prince was quick to close the door and heave a sigh of relief. No, it wasn’t exhausting being around Atsushi. He felt positively towards the younger man, but his humility and sincere words made his heart well up with all sorts of emotions, and he had gotten flustered. Such small gestures seemed to really move Atsushi. Issay himself seldom felt moved. Experiencing Atsushi’s feelings in close proximity, even if they weren’t his own, was startling. He wondered if being in the palace had turned him cold. Even if the world outside of it was harsh, maybe spending time interacting with it would open him up, yet he thought that it might be overwhelming instead and scare him into seclusion. Sliding into his chair, Issay gave himself a minute to collect himself and get his guard up before facing his family at dinner. At least there would be something to talk about tonight.

Chapter Text

Early in the morning, Atsushi decided to pay his friend, Hide, a visit at his family’s market stall. It was often out of pity that his parents gave him some of the smaller catch and less popular picks, especially later in the morning. This had been routine since his father passed away, but today, his visit wasn’t one out of need. He could afford to use the last of his money before pawning the ring to buy something nice to cook for his mother. Hide was wrapping a fish for a customer as Atsushi approached, so he kept a distance until he was alone. It took longer than expected, as over time, as Hide had built quite a rapport with various customers. who enjoyed sticking around to talk to him, even if he only gave them short replies and nods as he cut, gutted and washed fishes. He was tall, polite and good-looking, which made him popular instantly when he started to work at the stall. 

Atsushi inspected the table with fish laid out on top of it. There was also a bucket of cockles and another for clams, which he thought might be nice in a soup. Hide greeted him, calm as ever, which was something that didn’t change no matter the situation. Atsushi decided to buy the clams. Hide didn’t question how he could afford it, but looked at him for confirmation. When he nodded, his hair fell over his face, and he tucked it behind his ears before taking out the folded notes in his pocket. Hide simply handed the bucket over and asked him to return it whenever he would return. After looking around for a while, he took the note and brought it to the chestnut stand just a short walk away. The smell of roasting chestnuts and tea leaves from that alley wafted over and it was tempting. Hide reached into his apron as he headed over to the tea shop in the same alley. He soon returned with a bag of chestnuts wedged inside his elbow, and two steaming cups of tea.

Atsushi sat on the curb that he always perched on when he visited, still careful as he lowered himself. He and Hide caught up a bit and he learned that their friend, a magician who was away for a few months with a travelling circus, had returned home just for a while. He’d made a detour to drop off some interesting spice powders he found at a port market while on the road and Hide had a share for Atsushi. It crossed his mind that the spice powders could somehow be the dangerous herbs that the prince had shared about, since Imai had talked about herbs that made him see strange things. But Imai liked to cook curries, so it was probably just powders he’d found for making curry. He didn’t know how to reach Imai but hoped that he would catch him the next time he came back. He didn’t have many close friends, so it meant a lot to see him.

The chestnuts were nice and warm when both men picked them out of the bag. Atsushi sank his teeth in and broke off a piece of the starchy and sweet nut. The ridges of its smooth exterior were a fun contrast to the crumbly texture inside, and felt nice against the tip of his tongue. When he looked over, Hide had half of his chestnut in the hollow of his cheek, making it bulge out like a squirrel. He smiled and reached out to poke it, but Hide quickly jerked away, and soon they were giggling with their mouths full. When they both finished their first chestnuts, they stayed quiet for a while until Hide decided to go for his next.

“Did you hear anything about a thief near the town hall?” Atsushi asked him.

Hide shook his head as he chewed. He wasn’t involved or informed about much that happened within the kingdom. Even if he was told or witnessed something, it didn’t stay on his mind for long and he’d shrug most things off. But Hide was always a good listener to his friends, and he remembered their troubles and achievements.

“It was me,” Atsushi said. He didn’t have to explain himself, Hide knew his situation.

“I got caught, and my timing is the worst so His Majesty showed up… but then the prince showed up too.”

Even if the story had begun to sound farfetched and absurd, Hide just nodded and let out a hum after his friend’s pause, to let him know he should proceed.

“So I’m working for the prince at the palace now. That’s why I’ll only be buying your fish from now on, because you and your parents have been too kind to me.”

Hide seemed impressed and pleasantly surprised. He didn’t question how or why, but simply asked, “give me a tour one day?”

Atsushi laughed and nodded. “I don’t know if a peasant is allowed to do that, but anything for you.”

Just like that, they returned to their usual business of exchanging observations and passing thoughts that surfaced, only stopping when Hide had to attend to a customer, then continuing until they were done snacking. Hide waved to Atsushi as he headed off with the bucket of clams in one hand, and the other holding his hair out of his face as he gave his friend a slight bow before taking his leave. It isn’t too far of a walk to the pawn shop, where he is warmly received by the older woman working there. He remembered pressing himself against the glass displays, looking at delicate beadwork and jewellery, as well as small antiques with all sorts of colours and unique charm. It was exciting to see their price tags too, the higher the better. Yet finding the cheapest things was amusing too. 

Atsushi presented the ring and letter for a form of authentication which was met with visible doubt, and he fears he’s been recognised, but stays quiet. The woman calls her husband, the owner of the shop, to have a look at the ring and asks for his opinion on the letter. It did appear to be signed by the prince, and the stamp below it could only be from the royal palace. The old man put on his glasses and brought the jewels close to his eye. No scratches, minor inconsistencies, but a beautifully rich hue that was almost unmistakable. He held the ring up to the light, rotating it just for a second before he tilted his head, pursing his lips. Atsushi was nervous, unsure of what that meant. What if the jeweller that had made the ring for the prince had used fake rubies? They had such a spectacular glimmer when he had looked at them at night, he didn’t think it was possible, but he wasn’t an expert at all.

The old man slid a pad of paper onto the counter between him and his customer, and started to scribble some numbers on it. He told Atsushi that it was white gold, and how to tell if rubies were real, before turning the pad around and pointing at the number written at the bottom of it.

“This is all I can offer.”

The number was way bigger than Atsushi imagined, and probably more money than all he had spent and received throughout his life. He had to hide his shock as he nodded, and didn’t think to negotiate or get an idea of the real value of the ring. It was enough money. The old man asked Atsushi to wait as he went into the shop. He came back, fanning out and counting some banknotes that he had retrieved, and Atsushi listened to him speak with his wife as he waited.

“Perhaps a fan of the royals will purchase it, but it’s hard to imagine who would have the money for something like this. The smaller jewels could be repurposed.”

He kept the envelope of money in the inner pocket of his jacket, closing the button to secure it, and held it tight against his side as he walked. Heading back through the market, he buys some dried kelp, some vegetables that would keep well and neatly bundled eggs. With his hands full, he headed home. It didn’t feel safe walking around with so much money anyway. It’s still pretty early, so he doesn’t wake his mother up. The first thing he did was take the envelope out to check that it was there, and he counted the money inside of it. He remembered how much he owed the doctor, so he rounded up the total and added more as compensation. The leftover money was kept under the pillow he rested his head on.

Ready for work, he wonders whether he should have something to eat but thinks maybe the chestnuts were enough. He lets a sweet potato steam as he washes the clams and rice to prepare a pot of clam porridge, as tasty as he could make it with the addition of ingredients he had just bought. A bit more firewood was added for good measure. Then he dressed his wounds, put on his suit, before switching the pots to let the potato cool, and allow the porridge to boil. His mother seemed to be feeling better as she stirred and got up. It would be something nice to start her day off with. He gave her the good news, and showed her where he kept the money for when she felt ready to head out again. With her approval of his grooming, Atsushi left for work.

He first headed up to the clinic that is just opening, just ahead of the time he needed to report to the palace. “Excuse me!” he called to the doctor who was up the road from him. The man turned around and paused for a while at the man in a vest and suit trousers, but began to scowl once he recognised the hair and face of the thief. He whipped his head around and continued uphill. “Sir, I’ve come to pay you for what I owe.”

He scoffed, “what, did you borrow money? Steal it?”

Atsushi shook his head. “The prince gave me money to care for my family, but I thought to pay my debt to you first, on behalf of the royal family for pardoning me. I’ll be making an honest salary from now onwards.” 

The doctor paused, and Atsushi caught up to him. He presented the slim stack of bills and stepped back to bow.

“Again, I’m sorry for doing something terrible to you and your business. I’ll be going now.”

Without sparing a look at the doctor, Atsushi brisked away, not wanting to give him any time to reject the money or apology. It was easier this way for both of them.

Work began promptly at the palace once Atsushi arrived. There was a covered plate of food that was waiting for him on the low table by the sofa, and the prince suggested that he eat before beginning, so that he could work with clean hands once done. As the prince had suspected, Atsushi hadn’t eaten adequately before arriving, and he had prepared for it. The younger man didn’t protest or try to deny himself the well-needed meal, but ate quickly so that he could begin work as soon as possible. As he always did, the plate was polished without a grain left behind. The prince, who noted this, was pleased when he glanced over before returning to his book.

He was just reading or lazing around most of the time, and asked Atsushi to take a break, which he declined. When offered some tea, the younger man proceeded to drink it while absorbed in a book of technical drawings of automobiles and mechanical parts. He barely blinked as his eyes roamed across the spreads of pages, and the prince watched him stare in amazement, hunching over to look closely at the details. He smiled at his wonderment, and gave him a soft reminder to keep himself upright. It was encouraging to see him take a keen interest in reading. Prince Issay was curious about the things that caught his attention. He’d ask about what Atsushi liked in a text or picture, and wait in pleasant silence as he thought and tried to describe the appeal of various books and topics.

The day was uneventful, without much conversation made between the prince and his new member of staff. When Atsushi had headed home, Issay had a quiet dinner with his family that he spent thinking about how he should address his helper. It wouldn’t be nice to call him a servant. As of now, he wasn’t doing much. He would certainly be helping out around the palace with other duties when necessary, but he would largely serve Issay only. His work wasn’t limited to labour and mindless duties. No, he wasn’t a servant per se. His valet? Offering personalised assistance and care. If he had to introduce Atsushi and take him to meetings within and beyond the palace, he needed to find a word to make sense of his presence. Why was the prince taking a peasant boy to attend important affairs?

The next day, Atsushi found that he didn’t need bandages anymore since his wounds had scabbed over, but he still applied them for good measure. Once again, he woke up early. He needed to replenish the firewood but didn’t have time to gather some on his own, so he went out to buy some at the market. He was still cautious about the things he spent money on, but now that it was possible to afford nearly anything, it was alright to buy a freshly made breakfast instead of making it from scratch. The sesame-filled buns at a bakery were round and shiny, too hard to resist. He took them home with him, and had an extra pair packed separately.

It’s too early to go to work, so Atsushi does things around the house. He buried vegetable scraps from yesterday in the soil and gave the greens a good watering. With a wet rag, he cleaned any dust and dirt from various pieces of furniture. After breaking a sweat, it was time to take a bath, have breakfast and get ready to go to the palace, even if it meant he’d still be too early. He was eager to browse more books, since there wasn’t another place that offered him a chance to do so.

The prince wasn’t in his study yet when he knocked on the door, waited, then cautiously entered the room. There was already coffee and two teacups on the low table in front of the couch, so he placed the bag of buns there and went to pick up scattered books with fabric covers. Instead of tackling books by their proximity to him, he wanted to have a bit of fun and choose a theme for the day. After some time, the prince arrived and noticed a happy and unusually early Atsushi, which was a little surprising. It was good to be enthusiastically studious, but did he feel pressured to do more than asked? Issay was tailed by Lord Tsuchiya who he had invited for a private chat - a regular meeting they arranged to clarify any doubts or blindspots in Issay’s pursuits and undertakings. There were very few people he could talk to and trust, so he was always grateful when time was spared for him, even if it was the courtier’s duty to aid the prince in his development.  

“This is Atsushi, who assists me with the library. Lord Tsuchiya is a courtier, and has been my personal adviser and teacher since I was a child.”

Atsushi set down the book he was holding, got up and approached the pair, before bowing, then extending his hand. 

“I’m honoured to meet you,” he said, softly, but as surely as he could.

Tsuchiya reached forward with some hesitance to grasp the offered hand and looked blankly at Atsushi for a moment, but quickly his expression softened into a gentle smile. The young man was both untrained and inexperienced with the etiquette of the palace, but he was as respectful and polite as he could have been.

“Atsushi, it’s nice to meet you. Now, typically a servant wouldn’t initiate a handshake or any sort of contact with those in a position exceeding their own. A bow will do,” Tsuchiya said.

The prince sighed, “is there a better word than that?”

“Servant? Well, you could certainly call him your hand if that settles you, your highness.”

Issay huffed at the playful tone of the courtier’s voice when addressing him. “You don’t have to put on the act in front of him, just call me Issay. And yes, that’s more suitable.”

Atsushi excused himself and closed the door between the study and library behind him, not before he was told to knock if he’d need to open it. He retreated as soon as he could, embarrassed and a little intimidated by Lord Tsuchiya, and the annoyance in the prince’s voice, even if they were only bantering, which he supposed might have been the case. As he sat down and started where he had left off, he curiously listened, but could only hear muffled voices behind the hardwood. Within a few minutes after rushing back to the library, he regretted not informing the prince of the paper bag on the low table. He wondered if the prince noticed the bag at all. If he did, would he think it was for him or just leave it there out of uncertainty? If the pair were to talk for hours, the buns might get soggy or stale. He just hoped Issay would like the bun, because he thought it was inarguably delicious.

While he stressed about the fate of the baked goods, Tsuchiya had quickly noticed the bag next to the pot of coffee and unfurled it to reveal two glossy, browned buns. There were two, just as there were two cups ready for them, so both men easily assumed that the treats were for them, despite their unusual presentation. They drank, ate and talked. When Tsuchiya leaves, Issay retrieves Atsushi. He doesn’t ask about the meeting but Issay explains he mostly trusted Tsuchiya for advice and assurance. People would often try to appease him or were outright against him. Tsuchiya was levelheaded and he had seen Issay grow up, so he didn’t fear him, yet still respected and cared for him. He didn’t find his father attentive or loving, so when he was alone, he felt encouraged by the books Tsuchiya gave to him. Eventually he sought out the courtier himself to ask for more and wanted to talk to him. He was often rejected but never harshly, and he was always welcomed back.

Upon returning to the study, Atsushi immediately looked for the paper bag with his eyes. He found it neatly folded on the low table, clearly empty. There was a strange exhilaration from the thought of the prince having received his gesture well. He didn’t want to draw attention to it though, so he averted his gaze and settled upon the desk that the prince usually worked at. There were records on the herbal drugs, which made him assume they were the topic of discussion earlier, amongst other things.

“Have there been any new findings?” Atsushi asked.

The prince smiled, picturing Atsushi’s line of thought. He lowered himself into his chair and sat back, reaching forward to give the papers a little push away from him. 

“We didn’t talk about that. But there were some discoveries made at the gardens. We could head over if you’re curious, since I’ll sooner or later need an update anyway.”

When his eyes met the younger man’s after seconds of silence, they were just a touch wider from his raised eyebrows. Positively surprised by the exciting suggestion, he couldn’t think of something to say. He quickly lowered his head, and a curtain of black hair fell into place, concealing him. The realisation that it may seem rude, or that he may appear untidy jolted him upright, and when he caught up to his senses, his sudden, awkward movements reddened him. The prince thought he was a little strange, but in an endearing way. It was nice of Atsushi to try and be proper and put together, even if he lacked experience in being anything like that.

“Let’s leave soon. Do inform Mari that we’ll be away for some time, she’ll prepare lunch for us to take along. Will you know where to find her?” Issay asked. He hoped giving Atsushi something to do would make him get over himself.

Atsushi nodded and drew purpose into himself with a deep breath. He turned, and as he did, the paper bag caught his eye, and he looked at it before snapping his head back towards the door he should proceed towards, but his feet stuttered, and in that moment, Issay’s eyes went wide with realisation. It made sense now that the buns hadn’t been plated nor presented in the typical way. Atsushi had put them there. He wasn’t told to do so surely, as that was not a responsibility entrusted to him.

“The sesame buns in there, were they yours?” The prince asked.

“...Did you eat them?” Atsushi responded, uncertainly. The fact Issay knew the flavour of them clearly meant that he had tasted them, unless Lord Tsuchiya had eaten them both himself. He was about as thin as the prince, so that seemed unlikely of him, nor did it seem like the polite thing to do in front of royalty. Though as days passed, Atsushi was unsure of the ideas he had about the royals and how they worked. As for the prince, the unspoken confirmation of his suspicion, or rather, realisation in Atsushi's answer gave him a little panic. Shouldn’t he have asked about the unusual presentation? If they’d been sent by somebody with ill intentions, he’d have fallen into their trap so easily. He ought to be more wary, and thoughtful, because what if the goods weren’t for him at all?

“Did you like them?” Atsushi asked. He couldn’t bear the prince’s quiet thinking even for a second. It made him nervous, being stared at in doe-eyed contemplation.

“It… pairs well with coffee,” Issay answered after briefly hesitating.

Even though he hadn’t been too tense, the younger man’s shoulders relaxed noticeably and he let out a soft sigh, which gave way to a gentle, contented smile. What a relief that the prince enjoyed his offering.

He explained, “I bought them from the market and wondered if it was okay to give you some. My parents used to buy them when I was small.”

The prince was observant enough to understand more than what was mentioned. He was touched by Atsushi’s gratitude, but also relieved to know that he felt comfortable enough to give to others. A tinge of guilt still lingered for having eaten what could've been meant for someone else, but knowing that it had been given to him made him happy. It was not common to get such simple, common gifts.

“Did you pawn the ring?” he asked. He wondered to himself if Atsushi was a man of promise, as he seemed to be.

Atsushi nodded shyly. “I paid the doctor back yesterday.”

A soft, approving hum was followed by a firm nod. As reserved as Issay was in expressing his feelings, he was both satisfied and proud to have judged the younger man’s character accurately.

“Thank you for thinking of me. It was delicious,” he said. Then his hands were pulled towards something ahead of him on his desk. Something that would make him seem busy as a cue for this unusual situation to be brought to a close with both of them concerning themselves with anything else. It wasn’t until he tore his eyes off a widely grinning Atsushi, who he caught lowering his head to hide himself, that he realised he had grabbed his case of cigarettes. As he opened it, Atsushi bowed and escaped to the library where he could tame his smile, as he waited for Mari’s arrival to let them know they were ready to go to the gardens.