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Shingo’s had little choice in learning how to rise with the sun. A knight’s duty starts well before first light and lasts long after the sun has set. A small part of him (one with a very big mouth) resents how his expectations are so drastically different from his new Lord. Yuya generally doesn’t move until late in the morning, and he sleeps like the dead—a blessing and a curse, given to how Shingo is somewhat prone to being loud by nature, even when checking on his Lord. Still, the fact remains that Yuya gets to rest while Shingo labors away, making sure the grounds are safe, the armory is well stocked, and training himself so that his skills don’t get dull.
Though, he does suppose that are worse things in the world than training on his own, especially since he doesn’t have to deal with constant onlookers. For as many people as there are in the castle, Shingo is left alone fairly frequently. He supposes it has something to do with him being a new knight, and one in service to the Prince and not the King, but it doesn’t really bother him. Yuya is far from demanding, and Shingo stands by his choice in master; besides, being left alone gives him the opportunity to engage in more…frivolous pastimes.
On this particular morning, the sun has just barely risen over the trees, rays feebly warming the castle grounds. The only creatures that are awake apart from Shingo are the birds that are chirping to one another, fluttering from tree to tree and watching him warily as he crosses the yard.
He’s not doing anything illegal or immoral, but that doesn’t stop Shingo from glancing all around him as he walks. Nervously, he hefts the quiver of arrows he’s slung over his shoulder higher up, jumping slightly as the arrows in it rattle with the movement.
‘ Fool,’ he scolds himself. ‘ You’ve committed no crime against Crown or God so stop looking so guilty!’ For reassurance, his hand comes up to press against his chest, feeling for the outline of the pendant that Yuya gave him. He traces the now familiar sharp edges of the gem through the thin fabric of his tunic, taking comfort in the weight of the jewel around his neck. He hasn’t taken if off since Yuya gave it to him on the day of the tournament; it’s become a part of him, a constant comfort and symbol for him to find strength in. Yuya smiles every time he catches a glimpse of the silver chain that Shingo tries so diligently to hide beneath his clothes; admittedly, he finds that he doesn’t try quite so hard when he and Yuya are alone together.
Shingo is so lost in his thoughts (and the recollection of Yuya’s smile and laughter) that his foot catches against a clump of grass and he nearly falls flat. He just barely manages to avoid face planting onto the dewy grass, though it does involve a good bit of flailing and a few tiny hops forward to regain his balance. He can feel his face turning red as he straightens up and he glances around once more to make sure there are no witness to his embarrassing lapse of finesse and grace.
Unlike before, however, there is someone watching him this time.
It’s nearly impossible for Yuya to hide, even as he’s halfway behind a nearby tree. His hair, such a beautiful bright red color, gives him away almost instantly, never mind the fact that Shingo seems to have developed a sixth sense as to when his Lord is nearby. Brown eyes sparkling with mirth watch as Shingo flushes a shade darker.
“M-Milord!” He doesn’t stutter and his voice doesn’t squeak, thank you very much. He clears his throat and tries again. “What are you doing up so early?”
“You’re dreadfully loud when you check up on me,” Yuya tells him, stepping out from behind the tree. He’s still wearing only the thin satin nightclothes he’d worn to bed; the edges of his sleep pants are wet from the dew on the ground. “And I’d been wondering where you go sneaking off to in the early hours of the day.”
Shingo sniffs. “I do not sneak anywhere.”
Yuya grins. “No,” he concedes. “You’re much too clumsy to sneak anywhere, I suppose.”
His Lord’s laughter splits the air, ringing brightly in the silence around them. Yuya has to lean against the tree to support himself, face turning pink from all his mirth. With a huff, Shingo marches over to him, grabbing him by the arm. “Come on; it doesn’t suit a noble to be running around in his nightclothes out on the grounds.” He tugs slightly but Yuya digs his heels into the ground.
“Not until you explain to me what you’re doing sneaking around at dawn with a bow and arrow,” he says stubbornly. Groaning, Shingo releases his arm.
“Practicing,” he says bluntly. He’s hoping that will be enough of an answer to satisfy the Prince, but Yuya only frowns at him.
“And you can only practice before the sun has properly risen?”
Shingo sighs. “If it’s archery I want to practice then yes.” It doesn’t even occur to him to lie; he’s not even sure if he’s capable of lying to Yuya. “Are you satisfied now?”
Yuya shakes his head. “No; why can’t you practice archery whenever you want?”
“Because the bow and arrow are not the weapon of a Knight,” Shingo tells him.
Despite the words that come out of his mouth, the quiver on his back and the bow in his hand feel like extensions of himself. Shingo grew up being taught archery; according to his father, all noblemen should know how to shoot so that hunts would be more entertaining. From the first time Shingo had picked up a bow, he had known that this would be his favorite weapon. He had an uncanny talent for being able to hit a target from hundreds of paces away, without any hesitation or uncertainty.
And then he had taken his vows of knighthood, and his bow had been replaced by a sword and shield: the more honorable and traditional weapons for the defenders of the realm.
Archery is still a part of the tournaments held annually. It’s the event that Shingo always, always wins, one that he loves to participate in more than he loves to actually win, though the victory is a nice perk. He’s never more sure than when there’s a supple bow in his hands, a fine string pulled taut between his fingers and a carefully knocked arrow ready to be sent flying at a target. But outside of competition, there’s little use for his beloved bow and so Shingo spends most of his time training with the other knights honing his skill with a blade so that he may best serve his Lord.
Yuya is still frowning at him, face scrunched up in thought. It’s a look that Shingo has learned to be wary of in his short time at the Castle; he’s just about to suggest yet again that the Prince head back to his quarters when Yuya speaks up. “Have you retained your skill with it?”
Briefly, Shingo bristles before he realizes that Yuya would have no way of knowing his talents, especially when he’s being doing his best to hide it from everyone else. “See for yourself,” he says instead. In one fluid motion, he’s pulled an arrow from his quiver and knocked it, planting his feet firmly on the ground. With a deep breath, he takes only a second to aim at a tree about fifty paces away from where they’re standing before letting it loose.
Yuya barely has time to blink before the arrow has planted itself firmly into the trunk of the tree, positioned perfectly in the middle of it. His mouth forms a tiny ‘o’ of amazement and his hands curl into fists by his side. “That,” he breaths out, turning back to Shingo, “was amazing.”
“It was,” Shingo says, preening at the compliment. He’s so busy basking in Yuya’s words that he doesn’t notice the Prince moving closer to him--by the time Shingo checks back into reality, Yuya’s face is mere inches from his own. He doesn’t yelp (Knights do not yelp , thank you) but he does make a funny sort of noise and fumble with his bow briefly.
“Teach me.”
“I’m...I'm sorry?” Shingo’s primary concern is returning his heart rate to a more normal rhythm, so Yuya’s words go over his head initially.
“Teach me,” Yuya repeats, eyes sparkling. “Teach me how to do what you just did with that bow.”
“I…” Shingo is at a loss for words for once in his life. “It takes a while to master the bow and arrow.”
“Are you planning on leaving my service anytime soon?” Yuya raises an eyebrow at him.
“No.”
“Excellent.” Yuya claps his hands together. “Then I see no reason why you can’t teach me.”
“Surely there are those more qualified to tutor your royal highness than I?” It almost causes Shingo physical pain to say that, but he grates the words out, almost hissing them in his distaste.
“Perhaps; are there those who could best your skill with a bow?”
“No!” Yuya smiles and Shingo realizes a second too late that he’s fallen for the Prince’s bait.
“Then ought not it best if I learned from you?” He asks smugly. Shingo huffs and bites his lower lip, but he can’t think of any other reason he should refuse a direct request from Yuya. Truthfully, his only reservation had been out of the differences between their status, but if Yuya has no issue with a knight--a servant, in essence, despite Shingo’s high birth--teaching a royal, then why should he?
“Fine,” he relents after a little bit of hesitation. Yuya’s smile brightens further at his agreement and Shingo’s pulse, which had just returned to a steady rhythm, spikes again. “I’ll teach you archery. But--” he says, a hint of warning in his voice, “You’ll listen to what I say and not question it. This isn’t up for debate.”
“Yes, yes,” Yuya says eagerly, bouncing up and down slightly where he’s standing. “Now, give me the bow.” He reaches for it with nimble fingers and Shingo is so taken aback that he doesn’t have the sense to fight back. The bow is taken from him; Yuya holds it awkwardly in his hands, looking all over the polished wood.
Shingo attempts to snatch it back, only to have Yuya take a step just out of his reach. “Give me that!” He hisses. “Before you shoot yourself in the foot!”
“First of all,” Yuya tells him, not the least bit intimidated by his anger, “I would need an arrow to shoot myself in the foot and I have none. Second of all, how do you propose to teach me if I’m not holding a bow?”
“I’m not teaching you archery this morning.” Shingo says flatly. “I don’t mind teaching you, but God himself could not convince me to start your lessons right now.”
“Oh?” Yuya’s smile turns coy and he presses close to Shingo. “And what are the odds of me convincing you?”
Yuya’s close enough now that Shingo can count the individual eyelashes that are currently being fluttered at him. “Did I not just say that you’re supposed to listen and obey me if I’m going to teach you?” He protests weakly.
Yuya hums. “You did, but I’m a terrible listener.”
“You aren’t properly dressed,” Shingo points out, and even Yuya can’t deny the truth in his words. The sun is doing its best to bring the chill out of the early morning air but it has not yet taken effect; the result is that Yuya is shivering slightly dressed in only silk nightclothes, gooseflesh rising on his bare skin. “You’ll catch cold if we’re out here much longer.” Shingo adds, noticing with some slight horror that the Crown Prince hadn’t even seen fit to put on shoes before traipsing after him this morning.
“Then you’d better teach fast.” Yuya holds his hand out expectantly and Shingo realizes that he’s waiting for an arrow.
For the second time that morning, words fail Shingo and he lets out a series of agitated snarls and groans. “You are an incorrigible brat!” He snaps, caring very little that he’s addressing his Prince in such a manner. Yuya laughs and Shingo ignores how the bright sound lessens the irritation he feels. “One shot.” He tells the other. “One shot and then both of us are heading back into the Castle.”
“Agreed.” Yuya spins on his heels, facing the tree that Shingo had pierced before. He shifts his weight, attempting to mimic Shingo’s shooting form.
His stance isn’t as terrible as Shingo had assumed it would be; he chastises himself silently--Yuya is far more observant and sharp than he ever lets on and he should know this by now. He steps forward so that Yuya’s back is pressed against his front, leaning over the other slightly to raise his arms and adjust his grip on the bow. “Relax your shoulders a bit,” Shingo says quietly into Yuya’s ear. The Prince shivers as warm breath tickles his neck. “And bring your front foot back slightly.”
Yuya obliges him. “Like this?”
Shingo nods and then realizes that Yuya can’t see him. “Yes,” he says. He reaches into his quiver drawing out another arrow and knocking it into place. “Now, pull the string back, all the way to your cheek.” Yuya huffs as he attempts to do as told and Shingo smiles. “Having some trouble, milord?”
“Hush,” Yuya says, his voice tight. The muscles in his arms flex and as close as Shingo is he can feel every minute movement. With effort, Yuya manages to bring the string back to his cheek, though his arm holding the bow is wobbling dangerously.
“Careful,” Shingo warns. He reaches out to hold Yuya’s arm steady, guiding the bow into position so that Yuya’s aiming at the tree dead on. “That string will hurt if you let it snap your skin.”
“Do you know that from experience?” Yuya teases him. Shingo pinches his side in retaliation, taking pleasure in how the Prince yelps and squirms in his arms. He does take care to make sure the string stays pulled back and the bow stays level, however.
“Focus.” Shingo plants one of his own feet in between Yuya’s to brace both of them. “Take a deep breath,” he says quietly. “When you’re ready, release the string and the breath at the same time. Don’t take your eyes off the target, understand?”
“Got it.” Shingo both hears and feels Yuya breath in, and for a heartbeat, both of them are pressed close together with baited breath and the world seems to pause. Then Yuya is realizing his breath in a whoosh and the arrow goes sailing across the yard and time resumes normally.
The arrow plants itself into the tree, not quite as deeply as Shingo’s nor directly in the middle but still a solid shot. Yuya makes a tiny noise of surprise mixed with pleasure that echoes in Shingo’s own chest. “I did it!”
“ We did it,” Shingo corrects. Yuya turns to him with a pout and Shingo relents slightly. “But for your first time firing a bow, it was excellent.”
“It’s all my wonderful tutor’s doing,” Yuya says sweetly and, predictably, Shingo flushes. “Will I be able to shoot as fast as you can?”
“If you practice,” Shingo says, willing his blush away. He reaches for the bow again and this time Yuya lets him take it without a fuss. “But I believe you have the skills, yes.” Yuya’s ever-present smile is turned on him and Shingo looks away, clearing his throat to regain his composure. “Now back to the castle, you brat.”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” Yuya says. He loops one of his arms through Shingo’s free arm. “Now, Sir Knight, kindly escort me back to my chambers. I fear I may get lost without your noble guidance.” Shingo would protest, but it feels nice to still have Yuya so close to him so he lets the issue slide. The two of them walk back to the castle, arm in arm, with the dew on their feet and the sun at their backs.