Chapter Text
It was three mornings after Bakugami was defeated, when the rest of Kumugi’s week was derailed.
She and Desscaras had eaten breakfast together peacefully, as the only generally unharmed ones of the bunch. Ichi was still on bedrest in the palace hospital being fed soup and tea for every meal, and Gokuraku Kagami…well, by the height of his injuries, Kumugi doubted he’d even be able to see them off when it was time for them to return home.
She quite enjoyed her time though, especially the food, and she and Desscaras had taken advantage of a handful of restaurants on these rare leisurely days. When Ichi was allowed out of his bed or allowed to eat outside foods, she planned to take him on an outing or two.
The palace town really was beautiful, as long as she kept her gaze away from the ruins of Bakugami’s destroyed dais outside the gates (though cleanup and reconstruction was beginning, and it was going swell). Plenty of shops and food and craft; the townspeople were doing their best to gather their lives after the decade-long tragedy, but were chipper nonetheless. There was a layer of grief all around, but joy still took to the streets. She had interviewed many citizens and she found them all to be quite lovely people.
A very nice grandma had given her some free bao from her stand yesterday. You’re a precious young lady, the grandma had told her. But you’re so thin. Have a pork bao. Have three. Kumugi escaped the woman with two bao in her stomach and four in her arms. Not that she was complaining. She warmed them up for dinner and snuck two to Ichi later that night.
She understood why Gokuraku Kagami protected his people so fiercely. After meeting just a few of them it was crystal clear.
After they cleaned up breakfast, Kumugi was planning to go about her day (her day being: flitting around the city for some sightseeing and journaling) when a lidded box was retrieved from a nearby counter by Desscaras and placed in her arms.
“Mugi, you’ve been put on an assignment by both the King of Bakugami and Master Moneygold as our official keeper of records.” Desscaras stated. “Important stuff- especially for a cadet- but I know you’ll take it seriously.”
Kumugi swallowed. But my journaling, she complained in her head. What about my sightseeing? She shook the idea away.
“Everything you need is inside this box.” She tapped the top of it, and Kumugi noticed how intricately the patterning was carved. “I haven’t looked in it, since I’m not nosey. But you should open it right here in front of me. For good measure.”
She nodded slowly and placed the box on the nearest flat surface, the table they had just wiped clean of crumbs. She flipped open the latch and tilted the lid back on its hinges. It creaked in the way well taken care of antiques do. Kumugi suddenly felt the need to put gloves on so she wouldn’t deteriorate the lacquer with her bare hands, which had started to sweat in anticipation.
Inside the velvet-lined box there was an intricately crafted notebook. She picked it up carefully and took a closer look. It was leather-bound, quite recently as she could smell the glue. The paper was notched into patterns at the edges, and every single page was hand-lined with the most delicate precision she had ever seen. Kumugi blinked as she thumbed through it, and her desire to wear protective gloves heightened.
She had a very loud thought of my normal pens and inks don’t deserve to touch this paper. That must have been what the king thought as well, because upon closer inspection there was an ornate dip pen in the bundle that looked just about as old as the box itself, accompanied by a pot of high-end ink she had only ever seen before when Master Shirabedonna signed something particularly important. She set them aside, far from the edge of the table.
At the very bottom of the box was a small folder which Kumugi opened. There was a written note on fancy decorative paper clipped to the cover, which she read aloud.
“‘Dear Miss Harvest’,” she started, realizing that this was handwritten to her by the king himself. She really needed those gloves. “‘For the remaining time you and your counterparts are in the country, you are to record loosely prompted questioning of my son Prince Gokuraku Kagami, otherwise known as the Brutalizer.’”
Kumugi felt herself go pale. She swallowed her spit and continued. “‘This country has lost a decade’s worth of history due to the occupation of the majik known as Bakugami. At least some of this history, as well as his personal story, has a chance to be uncovered by the Prince’s knowledge. Please keep him in your sights and learn all you can from him.’”
The finishing sentences. “‘Together with your personal research and perseverance towards the truth a gap in our story can be filled.’”
There was a smaller note at the bottom corner of the page, which Kumugi read to herself. You and your association will be compensated heavily for this. I thank you for your time in advance; I know we are in safe hands.
Again, Kumugi swallowed.
Desscaras whistled low. “So your job this week is to interrogate Ichi’s scary friend, huh?” She leaned an elbow on Kumugi’s shoulder, likely in sympathy, more than likely just reading the letter for herself.
“How long are we here for, again?” Her voice was thinner than she wanted it to be.
“Until Sunday, or whenever Ichi’s healed enough to get going. I’d like to rest even more, but we have work to do back at home”
Today was Tuesday.
“Ah, I see.” Kumugi put the note away, and began sifting through the other papers nervously. Family records. Names and birthdays and small portraits of the toddler-aged prince and princess.
She came across a photo of a baby Gokuraku, plump-cheeked and no more than three years old. He held a prince-like doll in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. Actually, he was digging the screwdriver into the doll’s arm, and looked quite inspired about it. His father, considerably younger and behind him in the photo, looked quite horrified about it and was trying to get his son to lay off the screwdriver. Yet, little Gokuraku held fast to his prized possession.
The photo was captioned. “Gokuraku and father playing. He’s very fond of his screwdriver.”
So he was even scary as a child, Kumugi silently observed.
She had met Gokuraku the Brutalizer twice. Once, when he was whisking Ichi away underneath his arm and running like the wind away from Desscaras. When he jumped over them he winked at her and smiled like he had just won a prize, as if a run-by kidnapping was a normal occurrence. She distinctly remembered screaming in horror as he took off with one of the most valuable people in her life. Twice, when he crawled from underneath the tablecloth after Ichi, bumping his head on the frame. She screamed then too, but only a scream of the mind. That was the first time they really saw each other. Kumugi remembered Gokuraku looking her up and down, and then immediately ignoring her and talking business. As he spoke she had hidden behind Ichi and Desscaras.
Beyond that, she knew next to nothing about him other than what was already documented. He was the exiled rogue prince, he often had an angry mob after him (an angry mob which Kumugi braved the worst of all on her own a few days back), and he kidnapped people (notably: Ichi). The exact details of the battle against Bakugami were unknown to her- Ichi wasn’t so sure on the psychological parts of it and Desscaras was occupied during the height of it all- but she knew that Gokuraku carried the brunt of it. He had lost an arm, after all.
She also knew that his entire plight was to save his people from a terrible end. Through her vague understanding, his story was one of bravery and love. But the lack of details made things hard to conceptualize fully.
She still had never spoken to him directly, though. But it seemed she was expected (damned) to do a lot of that in the days coming.
The last document in the folder was a list of suggested questions to ask the prince. She scanned through them and grimaced.
“I guess I have my work cut out for me, then.”
“You sure do,” Desscaras quipped. “That guy’s a real piece of work.” She sidled up next to Kumugi and shuffled through a few of the documents herself, chuckling at the bobble-headed baby photos. Then she frowned. “I don’t see exactly why Ichi likes him so much. But that’s for you to figure out, Mugi.”
They peeked at another photo together. Gokuraku, a little older than he was in the last one, standing in front of a broken vase. He stuck his tongue out at the camera and stood like he had done nothing wrong. Captioned: “Gokuraku is caught being naughty.”
It reminded her of when she met Ichi, and when they crashed through the Mantinel wall straight into Master Moneygold’s office. Her hoverbike was completely destroyed, all thanks to him. Ichi had the same face, then. Like he had done nothing wrong. Her bike was sent off to be scrapped for parts the very next day, and Kumugi mourned it.
“They are both boys, after all,” Kumugi realized out loud. “And Ichi’s only really been surrounded by women since he came to Mantinel. Maybe he just needed a guy friend?”
Desscaras hummed. “That’s true. He probably got happy talking to someone of his own breed. It might be nice for him to have another dude around to chew rocks with.”
Briefly Kumugi wondered whether they were talking about humans or dogs.
“Well, good luck. Make the association proud so Moneygold doesn’t yell at me.”
With a quick “You can count on me, Master Desscaras!” Kumugi steeled her nerves and sat back down again, gathering her new items towards herself and taking it all in. Desscaras left shortly after, leaving the cadet to her devices.
Kumugi looked at the grandfather clock on the wall nearest to her. It was way too early in the day to put this job off until tomorrow. It would be best to just get it over with as quickly as possible. Not that she wasn’t curious about the whole deal or didn’t want to document it, but she had really been looking forward to doing some of that journaling and sightseeing for the day.
She sighed. Laid her head on the table. Willed herself to stay strong for the matter. This would be a very long rest of her week.