Chapter Text
In the domain of royalty existed countless rules, spoken or unspoken. Always walk with a high head, lest high-ranking passersby whisper mockingly amongst themselves. Always bow when in the presence of one with a higher status, lest others dub you an uncouth commoner lacking etiquette. Always offer the members of the royal family only the highest praise and subservience, lest you be seen as a deviant agent of disorder.
At the age of ten, Tsukishima Kei was not receptive to such trivial niceties. He liked to slouch and scoff. He liked to use his height to look down on the other young knights-to-be, despite their family's longer history within the palace. Akiteru would scold, and Kei would dismiss.
"The only difference between us and the royal family is that their clothes are laced with more gold than ours, and all of a sudden we have to obey their every word," he said to his older brother (but perhaps not as eloquently). Akiteru sighed.
"That's just how it is, Kei."
On a tranquil summer day, ten-year-old Kei met another boy.
He was haphazardly practicing his sword strokes outside the palace. Just moments ago, Akiteru had scolded him for not exerting enough effort in his pursuit of knighthood.
On the plush grass, Kei rehearsed his form. Swish, swish, swish, as the wooden sword cut through the wind.
Stupid Akiteru, he thought to himself, not noticing a small figure watching him from a short distance. Kei whipped around, preparing to strike the air, and stopped short when his wooden sword almost collided with the poor boy's head. He immediately stood straight and put down his sword.
"What are you doing? I could've hit you," he rebuked.
The little boy sheepishly rubbed his head. He seemed about the same age as Kei, but Kei easily looked down at him. From his head sprouted locks of dark veridian, a small cowlick shooting up from the top like a lone flower in a sea of grass.
Freckles.
"Sorry, I got distracted..." the boy mumbled shyly. He reminded Kei of a mouse. "Are you training to be a knight?"
"Yeah."
The boy perked up, eyes suddenly sparkling. "That's so cool!" he exclaimed.
Kei looked away, unsure what to reply. He was not an expert in the business of compliments and praise. "Uh, yeah, I guess."
"I wish I could learn how to use a sword," the boy sighed. "Knights are so cool..."
"You're not a knight?"
The boy shook his head.
"Then what are you?"
"U-uh, I'm a...servant's son!" the boy replied, then nodded vigorously. "Yes, a servant's son!"
Kei narrowed his eyes at him. "Yeah, a servant's son."
The green-haired boy swayed awkwardly in place with his hands clasped behind his back. He lightly tapped his foot on the grass.
"So...what's your name?" the boy timidly inquired.
"Tsukishima Kei."
The boy inexplicably beamed. "That's a long name."
"I guess."
"I'm Tadashi!"
Kei hummed in acknowledgement. Tadashi.
Tadashi stood, grinning up at Kei. For some unknown reason, Kei felt that he couldn't look at his face.
"Oh, uh, don't let me stop you from practicing! I hope you don't mind if I just watch from afar," Tadashi said.
Kei internally groaned. "Just don't get too close. It won't be my fault if you get hit."
Tadashi nodded vigorously again and took a dramatic step away from Kei. Kei bent his knees, sinking into a fighting stance.
Swish, swish, swish. The tips of a few blades of grass snipped off and floated away.
Kei looked back at Tadashi, whose mouth had fallen open. The boy's hazel eyes seemed to hold Kei still like a magnet. When was the last time Kei had felt such wonder?
Kei ripped his gaze away and looked down at the wooden blade in his hand, flipped it over and back.
"I'll teach you," he mumbled. From the corner of his eye, Tadashi's head tilted to the side.
"What did you say?"
Kei gritted his teeth.
"I said I'll teach you."
His face felt strangely warm. He ignored Tadashi's yelps of joy and turned back towards the palace.
"Come on, you need to get a training sword." Kei walked off without waiting for Tadashi's reply, but heard excited footsteps chasing after him.
Thus began their dual training sessions. For multiple days a week, Tadashi would appear at the knight training grounds when the other knights in training had already left, and Kei would begrudgingly instruct Tadashi on best swordfighting practices.
Tadashi was not particularly graceful with his movements. He struck with a hesitance, a refusal to slice with full force. If he were a knight in training, he likely would have been sent home, not for absolute lack of skill but for an inability to embrace aggression.
Good thing he's just a servant's son, Kei thought sarcastically.
"You make it look so easy," Tadashi whined, slumping his shoulders. Several months had passed since they first began training together, and Kei was still no better at responding to such comments. He merely shrugged.
"We've been at it for hours, and I'm starving," Tadashi said. "Can we go get food?"
Kei nodded, and they stalked off to the kitchens together, scouring for leftover bread and butter.
"So good," Tadashi said in a muffled voice, his mouth full of unchewed bread. Kei curled his lip in disgust.
"It's stale bread," he dryly replied.
"Everything tastes better when you're hungry," Tadashi stated resolutely. He continued to devour the bread.
Kei shook his head slowly, feeling the corners of his mouth involuntarily rise. He took a small bite of his bread.
Yup. Stale.
And so, besides training together, they began eating together. Kei's days were increasingly dominated by Tadashi's presence. After training, they would scavenge for food that had long become stale and then return to more training. For someone as decidedly lazy as Kei, he had certainly subjected himself to a lot of work. He was not necessarily the kindest mentor, either.
"That's not how you do it."
"No."
"Do it again."
Tadashi never complained. He would nod along and try again and again and again.
Again and again and again they trained. Again and again and again they ate. Again and again and again they spent days together.
Days and weeks spent together morphed into more months. As time passed, Kei noticed yet another recurring theme.
The two of them had finished training for the day, and Kei had started walking away to look for Akiteru and spend the rest of his day studying what he had learned in arithmetic earlier. He paused when he heard familiar footsteps trailing behind him.
"You don't have to follow me around all the time," he said to Tadashi one day.
Tadashi's stature deflated. "Well, I guess...but I don't really have anything else to do..."
Kei stayed silent. Not my problem.
"Does it bother you? Me following you around?" Tadashi asked with wide eyes and a borderline pout.
Kei stared at his face for a few seconds before looking away. Freckles.
"No, not really," he mumbled. "I just think there's probably better stuff for you to do."
Tadashi animatedly shook his head. "Spending time with you is fun, Tsukki."
Kei sputtered before quickly regaining his composure. That's new, he thought, because he could not think of anything else.
"T-that's good," he stammered. He turned around, not letting Tadashi see his face. "Well then, let's go."
Tadashi obediently followed.
As Kei pored over his books next to candlelight, Tadashi sat beside him, swinging his legs that did not reach the floor back and forth. Kei would dip his quill in ink, scribble notes, review, dip again, write more notes. Tadashi looked up at the ceiling as if in thought, not saying a single word as Kei studied. The only sound in the room was the squeak of the quill against parchment.
Dip-
Kei sighed. He had dropped his quill.
"Do you mind picking up my quill? It's under your chair," he asked Tadashi in monotone.
Tadashi jumped in his seat, and his eyes snapped from the ceiling to Kei.
"Huh? Oh, sure."
He leaned over in his chair, head grazing the ground, as his eyes searched for the quill. Kei thought he saw Tadashi pause, but Tadashi quickly recovered and lifted his head, stretching his quill-holding hand out.
Rather than holding it by its shaft, he was dangling it by the feathers.
Kei elected not to comment on his strange grip and silently took the quill. It did not concern him.
"Thanks."
Dip, scribble, review, repeat.
Despite Kei's indifference to Tadashi's personal struggles with writing utensils, future similar events would explain Tadashi's strange behavior around the quill as they continued to spend time together. Once, Tadashi had accidentally ripped a small hole in his shirt, and Kei offered to patch it up. As Kei threaded the needle back and forth through Tadashi's shirt, Tadashi stood awkwardly at a distance farther than normal. Only once the sewing equipment was safely packed away in a small box did Tadashi return to his usual position next to Kei.
When Kei once suggested taking up fencing, showing Tadashi what a saber looked like, Tadashi immediately launched himself backwards, adamantly shaking his head.
"I think our current training is enough, Tsukki," Tadashi rationalized.
"Don't ever let me near that weapon ever again," was what Kei could hear underneath.
So he's afraid of sharp things.
Kei never mentioned fencing again.
While the two unlikely friends continued to train and spend time together, years had silently slipped by.
As the two transitioned from childhood to adolescence, Kei began seeing Tadashi less and less frequently.
"My parents need me around more," Tadashi had vaguely explained, before leaving Kei alone after a rigorous training session. For the rest of the day, Kei felt strangely bare without the familiar presence behind him.
They were no longer the ignorant ten-year-olds they were when they first knew each other. Just as Tadashi, freshly sixteen, was beginning to feel the growing responsibilities of maturity, so too did sixteen-year-old Kei have to grow accustomed to the reality of knighthood. Besides his academic lessons in reading, writing, and arithmetic, his active training in swordfighting, horseriding, and hunting, Kei was being introduced by Akiteru to the world of nobility and high society.
"Remember to bow when they see you, Kei," Akiteru constantly reminded.
Kei had been defiant against such tedious performances as a child, but his developing mind was calculating the most efficient ways to reduce trouble and maximize idleness. He soon learned that acquiescing to social norms prevented future petty squabbles regarding his uncouth behavior. He would stand tall, he would bow, he would serve, but only out of laziness for having to face the consequences of refusal.
Regarding his swordsfighting, Tadashi had been steadily improving over the last few years. He stood stronger, gripped the sword confidently, and slashed with purpose.
Kei watched him strike against a dummy. The dummy wobbled in place like a top, struggling to find its balance before tipping over. Tadashi turned to face Kei, a smug grin on his face.
"That dummy is sooo dead," he boasted. Kei huffed, forcing the corners of his mouth to stay still.
"Just wait until you have to fight a moving target. Then you're dead," Kei retorted. Tadashi rolled his eyes.
"Whatever."
He picked up the dummy from its fallen position and set it back into place.
"Well...I should probably go. I have things I need to do," Tadashi reluctantly said. Kei nodded. Tadashi made no move to leave.
Kei cleared his throat and faced away from his friend. "I feel like I rarely see you anymore," he mumbled. It seemed like only yesterday when they were ten and sparring unskillfully with each other every day.
"I know," Tadashi sighed. "I'm sorry. I just have a lot more responsibility now. I'll probably be seeing you even less in the future."
Kei nodded again. Why was he so bad at coming up with words to say?
"Have you gotten any assignments as a knight yet, Tsukki?" his friend asked.
"No," Kei answered. He stared into his open palm, covered in calluses. "Akiteru's been telling me to try to become a royal knight, though."
"Is that so..." Tadashi said quietly.
Kei shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. I'd honestly rather not have the pressure of being one."
Tadashi laughed, a gentle and graceful sound. "Of course you of all people are too lazy for the position everyone else would die for, Tsukki."
Kei chuckled, but then masked the sound with a cough. It was strange to hear that sound come from him. He heard grass ruffling underneath Tadashi's footsteps and looked up to find him returning his wooden sword to the training equipment rack.
"Thanks for today, Tsukki. I'll see you around." And then he was gone. Alone, Kei stared at where his friend had been moments ago. His footsteps were still embedded in the green grass.
"See you, Tadashi," Kei whispered under his breath.
They were seventeen now, and it had been three full weeks since Kei last saw Tadashi.
Ever since Tadashi's seventeenth birthday had passed, he was nowhere to be seen. It had been a modest occasion, with Kei humbly gifting him a botanical encyclopedia. Tadashi had accepted with vigor. The two shared a meal of bread, butter, and potatoes, and then Tadashi was whisked away by his duties.
Kei refused to admit it, but his days passed by more slowly than usual after Tadashi's birthday. He would train by himself, occasionally turning to check his friend's form on instinct, only to remember his friend was not there. His review sessions were much quieter without Tadashi's interjections and random observations. Eating alone was a silent affair.
As he traveled around the palace by himself, he sometimes could see clusters of servants hauling spinning wheels to and fro, and frantically transporting other miscellaneous sharp objects from time to time. Other times, he could smell smoke wafting through the hallways of the palace. Following its source led outside to the landfill, where hills comprised of discarded spinning wheels burned to oblivion. He wondered if Tadashi was among the servants scurrying around the palace to contribute to the sacrificial pile of spinning wheels.
It had reached a point where Kei actively sought Akiteru's company. He would ask Akiteru to critique his form as he trained, if only to overcome the silence of training by himself.
"Your shoulders are tense," Akiteru said, arms crossed and standing several feet away from Kei.
Kei stood up from his bent-legged stance, wiping sweat off his forehead with his arm. "Right," he acknowledged absentmindedly. His shoulders were still not relaxed.
"Maybe you should take a break. It seems like you have a lot on your mind," his brother suggested. Kei did not need to be told twice. He tossed his practice blade back onto the rack and stretched his limbs, fatigue setting into his muscles. What was Tadashi doing in this moment? Was he helping around the palace? That is, if he were truly a servant's son. Tadashi had still clung to that story despite its obvious fabrication.
"What's got you so worried?" Akiteru asked, breaking Kei out of his trance. "You're so distracted."
Not knowing why, Kei blushed and turned away. "Nothing."
He could feel Akiteru's skeptical eyes glaring into him.
"Stop looking at me," Kei grumbled. "I said it was nothing."
Akiteru sighed, but Kei felt his gaze fall away. "So irritable," he could hear his brother complain, but said nothing in retaliation.
"Kei," Akiteru suddenly called, voice much more assertive. "There's something you should know."
Kei turned his head to face Akiteru, but truthfully, he did not care to listen to what Akiteru had to say.
"The royal family is considering you as the prince's personal knight."
At this, Kei's eyebrows raised.
"What? Why me?"
Akiteru shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe your skills caught their eye. Either way, you should prepare yourself in case they choose you."
Kei really did need that break now.
Standing awkwardly in silence, Kei pondered the prospect of becoming a royal knight. It was a role that other knights desperately desired, but Kei could not feel any such passion. Being a royal knight equated to more pressure, responsibility, and, worst of all, work. He would much rather stay as a lowly knight whose only duty was to stand around the castle uselessly. And whose brilliant idea was it to suggest him to the royal family? He had never even seen any of its members, much less harbored any positive or protective instincts towards them. The only knowledge he possessed about the Yamaguchi family was that they had a son his age.
If being a knight was already so tedious, Kei could not imagine just how dull and tiresome being a prince would be. Having to interact with even more nobles and perpetually maintain pretentious facades seemed an utter nightmare. Kei would rather gruesomely die on the battlefield.
The subject of Kei's potential promotion did not resurface until two Tadashi-free weeks later, totaling five weeks since he had last seen the freckled boy. Kei had exiled himself to his room, looking at but not reading the words in his book. He had already read the words "It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning" five times, and he still had not processed their meaning.
Seriously, where has that idiot been... He read over the words again. They still left no impression on him.
Who in their right mind would ask me to be a royal knight? His pupils shifted from left to right over that same sentence.
When Akiteru interrupted his distracted trance with an unceremonious slam of his door open, Kei was surprisingly relieved.
"Kei...you're being summoned by the king."
Kei's body suddenly stood up on its own, book long forgotten. He was tempted to escape through the window, but he would rather not have to experience his head being crushed by the impact of the fall.
His legs did not seem connected to his body as he followed Akiteru to the palace's throne room. What the hell am I doing?
For the first time in a long, long time, Kei was nervous. His hands were growing clammy, and his heart was thudding heavier than normal. The terribly long journey to the throne room did not help matters; he felt that some unknown higher being was mocking him.
When they finally reached the throne room, Kei froze.
He could fit his own room ten times over into this room, and still have space to spare. From the impossibly high ceiling hung enormous chandeliers, crowded with bewitching structures of gold that Kei feared would eventually snap and crush him. Besides the chandeliers, the ceiling was adorned with multiple grand paintings depicting different scenes: elegant angels gazing upon humans, a beautiful young prince with green hair kneeling to receive his crown, and the same prince deep in sleep as he lay on a bed double the size of Kei's. Next to the sleeping prince was a nebulous figure who extended a hand to caress the prince's face.
Looks a bit like Tadashi, Kei thought.
Kei turned his attention to the throne, intending to examine the intricate gold embellishments framing the plush maroon velvet, when the sight of what lay in front of him paralyzed him. It was then that Kei truly believed that he was hallucinating, because standing beside the man sitting on the throne, who seemed at least fifty years of age, bespeckled in gold and donning an extravagant red crown, was the boy that Kei had not seen in five weeks.
"So, that's the boy you are requesting to be your guard?" the king asked in a deep, husky voice, while pointing a finger at Akiteru. Tadashi sighed.
"No, Father, the other one."
The king's eyes fell upon Kei's figure, who had knelt onto one knee but could not remember when. Kei did not register the gravity of being the subject of such a noble gaze, nor did he care. He stared only at Tadashi, who was looking at him with a soft red overlaying his freckles. Kei bit his tongue to stop himself from inappropriately blurting out the myriad questions in his head.
"Your name is Tsukishima Kei?" the king asked.
"Yes," he answered in a voice that was not his own, tearing his eyes away from Tadashi to maintain eye contact with the king. The king. He did not wish to be executed for not granting the king proper reverence.
Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kei thought. In his head, he sounded out each syllable, imagining how the shape of his mouth changed with each sound.
"Only with Sawamura's recommendation of you and the prince's personal request did I find it acceptable to consider you as a royal knight," the king explained. Kei nodded despite his failure to internalize a single word. Except perhaps "personal request."
"I trust Sawamura's judgment, but should you fail in your duties, I will not hesitate to remove you from your position, or even execute you if the situation requires it," the king stated. His voice carried across the vast room. Kei nodded. It was impossible to speak; his mouth had been sewn shut.
"You will protect the prince with your life. Your life is only a means to serve and shield the prince. As a royal knight and the prince's guard, you must always be prepared to die for the prince," the king commanded.
"Father..." Tadashi whispered in a strained voice. Kei could sense Tadashi's--Prince Tadashi?--gaze on him, could imagine his wide eyes begging Kei not to believe the king's words.
"Knowing this, will you accept your role as the prince's guard?" the king asked.
"Yes," Kei said.
"Very well," the king remarked, voice much softer. "Then there is one other thing you must know. This is a command of the highest importance. No matter what, you must never let the prince near any spinning wheels or touch any other sharp objects, for that matter. If you fail in this, I will not hesitate to execute you."
Kei forced himself to swallow. It was certainly good that the king had not been there when Kei had made T--Prince Tadashi pick up that quill when they were younger.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he affirmed shakily.
The king unsheathed a sword from his waist, which Kei had failed to notice was there in his previous stupor. Elegantly brandishing the sword, the king let it linger by Kei's left shoulder, and then his right.
"I dub thee a knight."
Kei dared to look up. Prince Tadashi stared at him with a smile just barely visible. Kei smiled back.