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"Osomatsu!"
A hard jab stung in his side as his brows shot up in surprise, glaring red eyes seeking his assailant before meeting the equally angry blue eyes of the second eldest brother. His surroundings began to sharpen and brighten, noises of all sorts filled the air. The rhythmic clicking of heels echoed across the marble ballroom floor. Dozens of voices resounded, each one passively trying to overpower the other to be heard above the din.
The melodious songs played by well dressed musicians were hardly heard above the sound, drowned out even more by the second eldest's forced voice assaulting his ears.
"Brother! How could you fall asleep at a wonderful gathering like this?"
Osomatsu sighed, only to immediately regret doing so as the nauseatingly sweet smell of mixed perfumes entered his nose and made his head spin.
"What would the beautiful maidens here think of you when they see you like this?"
"Don't care," Osomatsu answered bluntly, giving his brother the most disinterested look he could muster. He took hold of his cup and downed its contents in one gulp, relishing in the taste of exotically expensive alcohol on his tongue.
Karamatsu's face showed all too familiar contempt, but he refused to put it into words, instead diverting his attention to the crowd before him with a smile.
"Ah, they're playing that song you like! Won't you at least try dancing with one of the ladies tonight? Why don't you ask Lady Totoko once more? I'm sure she would enjoy your company, brother!"
Abruptly, Osomatsu stood from his seat, uncaring for the way his chair scraped loudly across the floor and how heads turned to look at the princes. Karamatsu's smile turned hopeful as he stood up as well.
"I'm going to get some air," Osomatsu said, almost feeling how the other's smile withered in disappointment.
He walked away from his brother, the crowd before him parting to make way like he was a predator amidst prey.
"Was he sleeping?"
"The Prince fell asleep at his own ball."
"The throne is wasted on him, truly."
"How uncouth!"
Tuning out the scathing remarks, he exited the ballroom with hurried steps.
Walking through the extravagant halls of the palace, mindlessly pacing until no more voices of lords nor ladies were heard, until his legs burned and ached. He halted. No lanterns were lit in this abandoned part of the palace, enshrouding the halls in an eerie darkness. Lining the walls were masterfully painted portraits of the former kings and queens, prideful faces in lavish attire looking down at him with unmoving and eternal disdain. The ceiling that used to seem so high up now seemed to close in on him, bearing down like a heavy weight on his shoulders.
When he came of age, his world changed. The notion of succeeding his father, once a faraway dream, then became a frightening reality looming just on the horizon. The responsibility of ruling the kingdom was to be passed down irrefutably to the eldest son, not paying any mind to the considerably more capable five other sons.
Royal balls used to be enjoyable, merely silly occasions for him and his brothers to have some playful fun and maybe catch the eye of a pretty lady, only to fail and laugh about it later. Now, they were social gatherings created for the sole purpose of finding a suitable partner for the prince. His brother Karamatsu was there for the same reason, as he was destined to become the future king's right hand. At least the second eldest seemed like he was even slightly invested in the family's future.
His other brothers did not attend anymore, as they would only distract him, his father had said.
Dozens of suitors and suitresses, yet he felt nothing for anyone, always simply looking to the many cautiously longing gazes, directed at him only for the promise of power, from his cushioned and cozy seat on the dais.
He was a puppet, just like the daughters and sons whose family dolled them up for a slim chance at a hand in marriage with the future king. An alliance between families under the pretense of love.
He turned away from the mocking paintings and headed for the courtyard, feeling the eyes of deceased royalty follow his every step with disdain.
The ball would end. In the morning his mother would scold him for leaving, as a host should not leave his guests unattended, as if his father was not the puppeteer behind it all.
As if Prince Matsuno Osomatsu would ever do anything of his own volition.
He laughed grimly, and inwardly prayed to the gods above for a drink or six.
The fourth eldest leaned against the outer wall of the palace, watching his breath dissipate into the cold, nightly air. With gloved hands he pulled taut at his coat, savoring the warmth of the heated fur. The moon stood high in a cloudless sky, shedding a dim, blue light onto the treetops.
It was a welcome relief to not be expected to attend the royal balls anymore. To him, they were only tiresome, and he dreaded having to mingle with strangers. The only reprieve was the company of his brothers, but as soon as his father dissuaded him from attending, he was more than eager to spend his evenings in ways he thought worthwhile. He looked to the blackness beyond the tree line, seeing no further than what the meager light allowed him to see.
The foliage rustled, and out of the darkness appeared a large shadow, hurried in its gait as it neared. Once, he would have jumped at its arrival, but he had long since gotten used to the nightly hunts of his dearest friend.
Macan appeared from the shadows, the fiery red in his striped fur a muted brown in the night. He approached almost excitedly, carrying what seemed to be a freshly killed hare in his massive maw. Stopping short of the fourth eldest, he released the prey from his mouth, only to find that it was still alive. The poor hare shot up and sped back into the trees. Macan wasted no time debating as he followed swiftly with terrifyingly impressive speed.
The prince smiled, remembering fondly how Macan came to him as a scared whelp in a cage. An exotic gift for the princes' tenth birthday from a faraway lord, so he'd been told. Despite the lord's insistence that the beast was meant as a holy blessing of the highest honor, his father had laughed and called it the worst assassination attempt he'd seen in years, deeming the whelp to be put to the sword without a second thought. After much uncharacteristically fevered pleading and teary eyed persuasion, the fourth son was granted ownership of Macan.
Although it was not his vow to take, he swore to never let Macan put anyone in danger. A little over a year later, he stumbled upon a mauled horse on red hay beneath a young tiger whose muzzle dripped with warm blood. That was the first time he truly felt scared of the beast, but he collected himself and forgave Macan for his admittedly natural actions. It took long to convince his family and the guardsmen to do the same, and ultimately he was given one more chance.
Years later Macan came to be his closest companion, standing proudly beside him, albeit leashed, on the brothers' eighteenth birthday party.
"Ichimatsu?"
A voice roused him from his musings, and he looked to his approaching brother. The youngest was shivering without a coat to keep him warm.
"Todomatsu? Why're you out here?"
It was unusual to see him out so late, especially outside the palace walls. Although Todomatsu glared daggers at him, he had to commend his younger brother for being out alone at night, as it was a known fact that he was afraid of the dark.
"Why are you all the way out here? Thank the gods above a guardsman saw you come here, otherwise I would've had to scour the entire palace on my own!"
Impatience and frustration were evident in his tone, and Ichimatsu could not help but sympathize with his brother who was still very obviously underdressed for the cold and possibly very afraid.
"Anyway," Todomatsu huffed, "Choromatsu wanted to see you. He's in the library. Seriously, what are you doing here?"
As if on cue, Macan once again sprang out from the bushes, alerting Ichimatsu to his presence and simultaneously scaring the life out of Todomatsu. The youngest yelped and took hold of Ichimatsu, who only grimaced lightly at the sudden physical contact.
Macan seemed to return empty handed. The hare would live to see the rising sun once more, though whether that was a blessing or a curse was yet unknown.
The tiger approached the two, casting one fleeting glance at Todomatsu in acknowledgment before turning to Ichimatsu, expectantly raising his head a little. Ichimatsu took off his glove and gently scratched Macan behind his ear, the beast purring happily in response.
"By the Seven," Todomatsu scoffed as if offended by Macan's mere presence, "I can't believe you still have that thing. I wouldn't be surprised if it ends up mauling you one day."
Ichimatsu only growled in response. He'd heard much of the same and he'd probably never hear the end of it. He had half a mind to retort angrily, but the other more rational half didn't feel like stirring trouble.
"Where are the others?" He asked instead.
"Jyushimatsu is already asleep, and Osomatsu and Karamatsu are probably getting drunk at the ball and not doing what they're supposed to be doing."
"And that is?"
"Preparing themselves for the task of ruling the kingdom, finding a suitable partner and maybe even ensuring a prosperous future for our family? If I were in their stead, I bet I could do so much more than those good-for-nothing brothers."
Ichimatsu frowned. He knew his brother resented that he was the youngest. Osomatsu was a laid back slacker and Karamatsu was a painfully dramatic dimwit, so the youngest found it noticeably hard to accept that those two were to become the most important people in the kingdom, while the other four were fated to merely serve them. Ichimatsu admitted quietly to himself that he shared that view, but he would never make his opinion known. He found he had no right to argue, as he was little better than the eldest two at playing the role of prince, much less king-to-be.
Like the third brother, Todomatsu saw himself fit to rule, yet their futures were set in stone the moment they were born as the third and the sixth, not as the first and the second.
Shrugging off his coat, Ichimatsu draped it over the other's shoulders in an act of solidarity.
"Your jealousy is showing, Totty. Let's go back inside."
He signaled his departure to Macan, who buried his soft, heavy head a little deeper into Ichimatsu's palm before leaving to recommence his hunt.
The two brothers watched the beast leave in silence, the fourth grateful for the lack of snide comments from the irritable sixth. He wondered if that's what he sounded like on any other day, and he shivered.
Maybe he shouldn't have given Todomatsu his coat. The night was indeed very cold.
"Haha!"
Jyushimatsu whooped in joy, raising his training sword high into the air as a heaving Karamatsu fell to one knee, signaling defeat.
"Ten hits! I win again!"
The morning sun cast light onto the training ground; a lovely summer's day approached. Jyushimatsu watched as his brother gradually steadied his breathing and got up with a tired laugh.
"A formidable effort, brother," he praised, taking his stance once more. "I see you're as vivacious as ever, but I will not falter!"
Again, their swords clashed, the sound of wood against wood bounding up the palace walls.
The two sparred every sunday morning without question. It had become a brotherly ritual since they first picked up their training swords and long before they were actually taught the way of the sword. None of the other brothers were interested in sword fighting; Osomatsu and Choromatsu only halfheartedly participated in their archery lessons while Ichimatsu and Todomatsu busied themselves with other things. Jyushimatsu was glad the second eldest sparred with him, as it not only served as an outlet for his ever present energy, but also as precious bonding time where no complex conversations about feelings or their future were involved.
Today, too, they fought.
Today was different.
Jyushimatsu was not a fool. He saw how Karamatsu did falter and misstep multiple times. He felt how his blows came softer and less precise. He heard how Karamatsu's ragged breathing gave away his obvious exertion over what was usually considered menial exercise. He knew the sheer number of wins and the meager number of losses were signs that something was amiss.
Karamatsu was a skilled fighter, more so than any knight he'd fought during tournaments or any seasoned guardsman he'd roped into training with him. Yet the second eldest had made it a habit to go easy on Jyushimatsu, much to the fifth's dismay. It was rare for him to show his full prowess during training, but when he did, he was a veritable savant on the battleground.
Jyushimatsu knew his own limits, and he knew how much of a challenge it was to win a sparring session with the true, unrestrained Matsuno Karamatsu.
He halted, and his older brother followed suit, casting him a questioning look.
"Brother," Jyushimatsu started, keeping a wide smile on his face, "Did you drink too much again last night?"
Caught like a hare in a trap, Karamatsu tensed, but he was quick to hide the pained look that crossed his face for a fraction of a second.
"I apologize, my little Jyushimatsu," he offered meekly, "I simply got carried away. If my current state is a hindrance to our sparring session, we could stop and-"
"Karamatsu! You-!"
A bellowing voice alerted the two to the presence of the king-to-be, stampeding towards the ring with a hateful fire blazing in his eyes. The fifth eldest was so perplexed by his sudden entrance that he didn't notice Osomatsu had taken his sparring sword from him until he felt a cold breeze against the heated, sweaty palm of his hand. The eldest brother raised the sword to slash at his immediate brother, but Karamatsu hastily and clumsily blocked the oncoming blow, losing his footing in the process.
"Osomatsu!" Jyushimatsu called out to him, but the enraged red prince seemed to pay him no mind, looming over his younger brother who lay with his back in the dirt, staring up at the other anxiously.
"Karamatsu!" he yelled once more, holding the training sword high as if to strike. "An arranged marriage? Who gave you the fucking right? You must be so pleased with yourself, going behind my back and scheming with father! I thought I could trust you! What about what I want?"
At that, something in Karamatsu snapped.
Faster than any of them could anticipate, he shot up and grabbed Osomatsu only to throw him into the dirt, disarming him with one swift move.
He threw the wooden sword to the side, the other pointing down warningly at Osomatsu.
"What you want," Karamatsu growled, disgust and hurt clear on his flustered face, "doesn't matter! I'm doing this for the good of our family and our future. Can you say the same? Stop being so selfish, brother."
The last word was spat out as if it were poison, and an electrifying silence followed. The wooden sword clattered to the ground, and Karamatsu simply walked away from the training ground, not even uttering a farewell to Jyushimatsu.
It hurt to see his brothers like this, but Jyushimatsu plastered a gentle smile on his face as he walked over to Osomatsu, offering to pull him up with an outstretched hand.
He inwardly sighed when the eldest did not accept his offer, but said nothing of it. Osomatsu looked more distressed than agitated now, but a storm was still brewing behind his ruby eyes.
"Let's go talk to Choromatsu about this, okay?" Jyushimatsu asked carefully.
He felt a wave of relief when Osomatsu visibly relaxed, nodding slightly at the suggestion.
Grabbing the two training swords, the fifth eldest guided his brother inside without a word. He didn't miss how the third eldest brother shot him a meaningful look from behind the window above them as they stopped just short of the door to the palace. Choromatsu looked just as solemn as he felt, and he returned the gesture with a pained grin.
The sun shone radiantly, golden rays reflected against the pristine walls of the palace. A stark contrast against the glumness that hung in the air.
It was going to be a long, long, lovely summer's day.