Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Milord,” Amami’s voice was a wakeup call to the prince, who blinked quietly out of his trance. “You have to go to sleep. Please don’t bother yourself with this sort of work...”

The exasperated, desperate tone of his butler filled the detective with an evident sense of guilt. He understood well that, yes, he didn’t need to put himself against the burdens of this situation, and he didn’t need to be provoke his own sleep for something so… unimportant. Well, unimportant concerning his stance as a prince, but very important to his own moral compass -- it was lost to him to when he had first started becoming interested in mysteries and felonies. For the young man that was the most secure in the entire kingdom, he sure wanted to put himself in danger, arriving at crime scenes to investigate on his own merit alongside the kingdom’s general department of crime (which wasn’t very good, per se -- however, they were hailed as heroes due to the mundane crimes that took place. Those cases didn’t excite Saihara much, as over time, they simply got easier and easier to solve…)

However, a new case began to spark, white hot, and right into Saihara’s hands.

Well, perhaps not right into his hands. It was only after a member of the castle had been conversing with another worker a bit too loudly. Mindless exclamations were exchanged, such as, “The crime rate of a thief in Acer is rising!” and “The security quality of Acer’s castle is terrible, don’t you think?” and “I do hope our prince can fix this situation…” Saihara had eventually consulted Amami -- his father’s butler, and yet not his own, he felt he was the person he was closest to in order to exchange casual conversation with -- about the gossip. Amami had mindlessly admitted to all the news that Saihara had been hearing about, and thus, here he was now.

“No. I want to help our neighboring kingdom,” Saihara replied, perhaps a bit too tiredly for his own good. Amami huffed, shaking his head. “Just… let me…”

“Hey now. You’re going to over exhaust yourself. Otherwise, you’ll be dazing while we’re at the castle…,” Amami mumbled, picking up the candle next to Saihara’s desk. “C’mon. Go to sleep -- I promise, you’ll feel better about everything in the morning.”

There was really no use resisting the butler’s words at this point. Letting out his own sigh, out of drowsiness, Saihara shifted out of his seat and sauntered towards his bed, acknowledging his own tiredness. Amami could see right through him and his needs, just like he could with most other people -- that was the amazingness of Amami. The green headed bidded Saihara a fair night as he used the base of his thumb to quickly put out the fire, leaving it on his bedstand as Saihara watched the darkness for any movement. It wasn’t very long until he felt his eyes tug downwards, and soon he was met with unmistakable slumber.

It was likely because of all the effort he had put into researching the case, and the quality of his mattress was certainly irreplaceable. Being the only son of the king and queen of Primefield, he had always been treated luxuriously, ever since he was born.

The story of his kingdom was just as average as anyone could predict. There was a boom of freedom in the country, and thus many citizens decided to set up a proper village -- the family that owned the most money built the best house, had the best fields of crops, and the best quality of produce. Likewise, many years later, this family became the ruling, most powerful family in the entire area -- eventually moving up the ranks and becoming a part of royality. This was many, many generations ago -- the kingdom of Primefield was no longer in its prime medieval days, but life was still inexplicably difficult.

The world around was still plagued with illnesses rushing to be cured, transportation was still done by the pulling of carriages, and crime such as murders were done carelessly and messily yet there was nothing general authorities could do about it. Thankfully Saihara’s own keen skills in detectrivery had set a lot of the town detectives to shame -- it was generally just easy to figure out these sorts of crimes, and because of the dashing detective prince, murders and crimes in Primefield were scarce.

Which was a good thing, but without much else with the exception of reading, Saihara found little to find some enjoyment in. Sure, he was treated to nice dinners, special treatment, and quite literally anything he could ever want… but he wasn’t interested in being entertained by women who were only out for his million dollar crotch, or indulging in the sin of gluttony, stuffing his face with all sorts of delicacies from around the globe. He wanted excitement -- the sort of excitement you didn’t receive from girls or gambling. He wanted the rush of figuring out puzzles, mysteries, and all sorts of other enigmas of the world.

These things didn’t come often due to the low crime rate, but the situation in the neighboring kingdom, Acer, had recently caught his interest.

According to Amami, and the soon booming news that was traveling from kingdom to kingdom, a particular mystery was coming about. Word spread about how items had slowly began to disappear over the course of a month, first becoming unnoticable, like bars of soap from the queen’s chamber and towels from the washing room, but pretty soon, the thief had managed to snatch a largely important item that caused a spark in the kingdom -- the princess’s engagement ring. She had awoke one morning to find it misplaced, and despite a castle-wide search, the ring was nowhere to be found. Despite the princess’s reassurance that they could always purchase another, word still spread like fire around the kingdom.

Someone was in possession of her engagement ring -- the one that was made to match Saihara’s exactly.

After many generations of small clashes, arguments, and kingdom rivalries, Shuuichi Saihara and the kingdom of Acer’s own princess Kaede Akamatsu would be wed on their eighteenth birthday. They were familiar friends ever since their childhood, and once his father proposed Saihara to engage to Kaede in their tween years, it wasn’t a very difficult agreement. Although they both felt nothing more than friendship, their marriage would very well be necessary for the conditions of both of their kingdoms -- they would collaborate with more ease, and the kingdoms could share a harmonious party here and there. Saihara would be traveling to the kingdom in order to hand off his own ring to the royal ringmaker of Acer -- in order to prevent the thief from stealing his, too, the transaction would have to be done under careful watch.

Still, this thief intrigued Saihara. Stealing wasn’t as large as a crime compared to murder, but it was a crime nonetheless -- and it was a new experience to hear someone had managed to steal a ring from a princess . There were too little of clues to figure out who exactly the perpetrator was, and even the Primefield detective force was beginning to get on the case. Which meant Saihara was most definitely involved, no doubt about it.

It was the first time he genuinely looked forward to a case.

The trotting of the horses, and the gathering crowds shouting (“Hey, it’s Prince Saihara!”) caused more and more people to come out of their homes (some chose to simply watch from their windows, heads out to eye the mysterious prince) just to greet and call out for Prince Saihara. Saihara was never too fond of all the attention that was brought onto him, but he supposed that was just the way it was considering he was the only prince from Primefield -- and the one that would be marrying these citizen’s princess. Teenage girls his age visibly swooned over Saihara’s presence, dreamily calling out his name, as Saihara shifted awkwardly in his carriage. Amami, who was sitting right across from him, chuckled.

“You look just as uncomfortable as you always do when we’re out in public, without your head being filled with a case. Trust me, Milord… they’re only reacting that way because you’re a handsome prince with a million-dollar smile,” Amami joked, which caused Saihara to cough.

“Ladies seem to enjoy looking at me regardless if I’m smiling or not…,” Saihara responded half-heartedly, scratching his cheek. “Ahah… but when they see you, Amami, they swoon even harder.”

Amami made a sour expression, “Now that is beyond me. I can’t put my finger on why girls seem to like me so much…”

“The same reason they like me, of course. Why don’t you have a wife yet, Amami?” Saihara questioned, although he knew the answer well. He asked the question whenever they had to visit Acer, and it was just the two of them in the carriage, the horse’s trotting and the rocks on the road bumping the carriage to and fro. Amami’s sour expression stayed put.

“I’ve told you that I’m not interested in marriage, Milord,” Amami explained, per usual, as he jumped along with the carriage’s rocking. “I’m dedicated to my job as your father’s butler right now, and I think my little sisters would be a little jealous over a wife.”

“Ah, well, I understand, Amami,” Saihara nodded, passing him a genuine smile. Eyeing outside the carriage’s window. The entrance of Acer’s castle was coming to view, and the horse’s trots were becoming less and less erratic. “As long as you’re pleased with your position… I see no reason to change.”

Eventually the wheels of the carriage began to roll to an eventual stop, and, with guards and ropes keeping out the now large crowd at the entrance of the castle, Saihara and Amami pile out of the cramped carriage and into the open. The kingdom of Acer was nearly identical to the kingdom of Primefield due to being in the same general area, with Acer being slightly colder during the fall and winter times, while Primefield boasted beautiful meadows in the spring. They simply completed each other. Ladies that had gathered at the ropes swooned and yelled for Saihara and his butler, as the two, flustered by all the comments of the women (Amami somewhat less so), made their way through the front entrance and out of the sight of all of the onlookers.

“Welcome to Acer Palace,” Kirumi Tojo, Kaede’s own father’s maid, greeted with a pleasant smile. The three were familiar with each other, as Tojo followed Kaede just as diligently around as Amami did with Saihara (with permission granted by their fathers). Tojo bowed a slight, as Saihara shook his hand, smiling.

“Y-You don’t need to do that all the time, Miss Tojo,” Saihara chuckled, still flattered by the treatment. They, Amami included, had known each other just as long as Saihara had known Kaede. The only real difference was that they were both several years older than the Saihara and Kaede. Amami and Tojo gave each other an acknowledging nod when Tojo rose.

“Nonsense. You are royalty, after all,” Tojo simply put, and Saihara didn’t have much of a capacity to argue. All this formal talk was something he was used to -- he was simply tired of it. He wished to get on casual terms with as many workers as possible, like how he was with Amami. “Come. Milady requested I wait for your arrival and guide you to her room.”

Despite already planning on going himself, Saihara nodded, allowing the treatment. It was Tojo’s job to follow the royals’ requests, after all, and he soon figured that continuing to deny Tojo’s orders would put her in a difficult position. Saihara and Amami were led through the familiar hallways of the castle, and upstairs towards Kaede’s chambers. Tojo knocked firmly on the door, “Milady, Prince Saihara and Amami have arrived.”

A bang of what was heard to be wood echoed on the other side of the door, with a strangled but excited voice calling out, “A-Ah, yes, let them in, Tojo!”

Tojo opened the door swiftly when commanded, revealing Princess Akamatsu -- dressed in a luxurious, but more casual looking gown, her tiara placed daintily on the crown of her head. Kaede smiled fondly towards her childhood friend and father’s butler, “Hi, Shuuichi. Hello Amami.”

“Hello, Kaede,” Amami and Saihara said in almost unison, looking at each other with a perked smile before making their way into the room, Tojo in lead. The maid approached the princess, beginning to help her pull the complicated ribbons on the back of her dress, mumuring about how she shouldn’t have tried to put it on without the maid’s help Kaede replied with some quiet apologies, as Saihara made his way towards Kaede’s bedstand. Amami stood near Kaede’s piano, observing the scene before him and keeping quiet.

“So that thief that’s been here -- he stole your ring… and you left it on this bedside stand, right?” Saihara questioned to which Kaede responded honestly as Tojo pulled her ribbons.

“Yeah… I take it off when I sleep, since it’s a little loose for my fingers. I was meaning to talk to the ringmaker in the morning to fix it, but it disappeared when I woke up… I knew the castle-wide search would be useless, too, since I remember that I left it on that exact bedstand,” Kaede explained as Tojo sat her down onto the seat in front of her beauty desk. The princess reassured Tojo that there really was no need to go all out, but Tojo urged gently enough for Kaede to let her continue.

“I see…,” Saihara mumbled, examining the scene a little more. The only possible places this thief could have come through was through the balcony or the bedroom door -- Saihara found it much more probable that the culprit had come in through the former. After all, the doorway to the balcony was considerably large, and if they had the ability to pick a good lock, it wouldn’t be entirely improbable.

“We don’t even know if it’s one person or multiple people, though…,” Kaede wondered out loud, Tojo brushing out her bright blonde locks. “New locks were installed on all of my doors because of it. There’s no evidence of someone coming in and out, too -- the doors were both locked from the inside in the morning.”

“It’s possible that whoever did this was smart enough to lock the door from the inside and then close it,” Saihara explained. “It’s also possible that the person might be a worker at the castle.”

“Yes, it might, unfortunately…,” Kaede sighed, watching herself get groomed in the mirror. “My father says that, when we catch the person, or people, we’re going to hold a public execution… but I think that’s a little harsh. Maybe just spending some time in the cells would be enough.”

“I have to agree. But unfortunately, it’s not really up to us… but I’m sure if you persuade him hard enough, he’ll be willing to tone down the punishment,” Saihara compromised. “There’s no doubt that they’ll get punished for their crimes, but lighting it all up wouldn’t hurt. After all, they didn’t murder anybody.”

Kaede nodded, “Yeah.”

With Saihara’s ring passed to the ringmaker, authorities and security watching in the secret, enclosed room in the process, Kaede’s parents agreed that it would only be best if Saihara were to stay in Acer until a new ring was fitted and placed for his fiance. Saihara couldn’t say no to his future parent-in-laws, so with his fingers ring-less and Amami bidding him a good night as usual, Saihara found himself lying down in the comfortable guest bed of Acer Palace. This thief had been on his mind for the past month -- he wondered if they were out for his own castle, with him not there anymore to protect his own belongings. He was sure that the perpetrator wouldn’t be able to steal anything precious to Saihara -- with the exception of a few personally sentimental things, there wasn’t much to benefit from Saihara’s items.

Saihara watched the ceiling, tracing the constellations in its crevices as he wondered what this thief might have been thinking. Why they continued to rob Acer Palace, even though security was becoming tougher and tougher by the minute due to their own crimes. It seemed even irrational to keep robbing the same exact place all over again, but with the amount of stealth they seemed to carry, stealing from Acer Palace was like a breeze.

It was like the prince had met his match.

The moonlight trickled through the curtain-bound windows, beams of the light pouring in through the cracks. Night time was always so… lonely, even though he could probably go to Kaede’s room and she’d let him sleep with her. Kaede was always such a nice friend, but that’s exactly what they were -- friends. Neither did things like hug or kiss, and at the very most, they had held hands and kissed each other on the forehead in public just to satisfy the crowds. In the end, there was no romantic spark between them -- just two individuals that wanted to better their kingdoms.

Just as Saihara was to fall into his slumber, a rapping of an unusual sound echoed through his room. This immediately caused him to shoot up, hearing for the source -- it was his balcony door. Was this the thief, now trying to steal something from his own room…? And if they were on the balcony, there was no possible way that they could escape if all they were faced with was rail and Saihara, ready to apprehend them.

Saihara carefully pulled out of his sheets, crept up to the door, and, as quietly as he could, unlocked the door -- pulling the doors open quickly and lunging forward with a, “HYAH!”

He immediately was met with the stone marble of the balcony floor.

“Ahahaha! Oh man, that was so funny!” A voice cackled, and Saihara looked up --

A figure, dressed in a noticeable shade of completely white, sat casually on the marble rail of his balcony. With one leg crossed over the other and a pile of rocks piled next to his waist, the mysterious stranger cackled more as he threw a pebble right under Saihara’s chin, “W-Wha--?”

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, my beloved detective prince~” The figure sang against the moonlight, and Saihara was still dazed.

Even though it was dark, the moon overhead shown behind the figure’s body, showing off some of his frontal features -- this included a full-faced round mask with a clown motif, while the rest of his body donned a dramatically long cape and suit. On his head lay a top hat, strands of dark hair jutting out from underneath, “Surprised to see me , the elusive Phantom Thief~?”

“Y-You,” Saihara breathed out, trying his hardest to get to his feet, but was met with a pebble to the face. “Ow!”

“No, stay down, Prince Saihara. You look so cute all sprawled out and dazed…,” The thief chuckled under his mask, and Saihara was rattled. The perp was literally right in front of him, and he was lounging around on the floor. Saihara darted towards him, as there was no where he could escape other than right off of the--

Ledge.

The thief oh so casually avoided his grab by rolling backwards and off of the marble ledge, much to Saihara’s surprise and shock. Had he just committed suicide to escape his clutches? Saihara examined to and fro, and down below, but surprisingly, there was no sign of the thief whatsoever… until a voice came from an unknown place.

“I don’t feel like getting caught today, Saihara-chan~ let’s meet up sometime else instead! Have a friendly conversation and all~” And with that, silence followed. There was no sound of movement whatsoever, and Saihara had finally deduced that the thief was probably under the balcony.

“Agh…,” Saihara moaned, frustrated. He could call for Amami or literally anybody right now to help him reach this thief, but he was sure if he left, the thief would leave in his absence. And he couldn’t get down there himself -- he wasn’t sure if he’d die or not. Quietly, Saihara replied. “...Alright. But this isn’t over.”

“I sure hope it isn’t!” The phantom thief replied fondly, and there was a swooshing sound. Afterwards, no words were said, as Saihara simply watched the kingdom below him, bare of light, and wondered just who that mystery person was.

Chapter Text

The phantom thief quickly became the prince’s most difficult case.

Compared to what he had done in the past, this would definitely prove to top every single one. Although, the biggest crimes he had ever been able to solve was the culprit of a mass family murder several years back when he was only fourteen -- that was what truly caused his name as the “Dashing Detective Prince of Primefield, Shuuichi Saihara” spread around the country. The number of visitors to the kingdom increased, time was spent teaching the excelling prince newer, more advanced concepts, and when he was not in schooling, Saihara was treated to luxurious parties.

Parties that weren’t even necessary to him -- he knew that a main intention of the banquets was to get commonfolk taste just an inch of a life as a royal. His parents were the sort of people who invited all sorts of folk to their banquets and balls, even the poorest of the poor, making their events noteworthy to all -- there were, indeed, some events that were restricted to the higher nobilities, but Saihara’s parents never failed to make their citizens go unnoticed. The more exclusive parties were ones that Saihara just so happened to need to attend, for one reason or the other -- however, he was well aware of his parent’s simple acts. It was to get noble women to swoon over him -- rich men dealing with his father to plan dates with for their children. Even though Kaede was engaged to Saihara at the small age of twelve, it was only beneficial for their income that just an afternoon with Saihara would land them a good several hundred dollars.

Thus, after the case, Saihara was sworn after by many people. Young boys his age envied the attention, and the ladies squealed at his very presence -- with his mysterious overall vibe, nonchalant eyes and neatly combed hair, he was much more fitting for the title of a desirable husband compared to regular village boys. Not only this, but he was generally kind, too -- he did not easily resort to angry words and violence, and instead was a peacebringer.

With the arise of attention Saihara had received from the case, his father found it only fitting that he would have someone to look after him at all times. That was when he formally gave Rantaro Amami, a butler serving directly under him, to care for his son when he was out of the castle -- Amami couldn’t exactly find the room to refuse the offer, and thus, Saihara and Amami’s friendship sprouted from that point.

Once Amami started appearing with Saihara, older woman began to swoon as well -- the two were, indeed, ladykillers. With Amami by his side, Saihara was practically impregnating woman with just his glance, much to his dismay -- in the end, Saihara was actually never one for social interaction. Sure, he had been taught from a very young age social norms, proper etiquette, and thoughtful manners to any and all he spoke to. Yet, his preference for the secluded life in the castle, being a knowledge sponge and choosing books over voices any day had caused him to be a bit of a shut-in prince. Thankfully his childhood relationship with Kaede didn’t restrict him completely from other people, and thus talking to others wasn’t entirely difficult.

Despite such a thing being only a couple of years ago, Saihara felt as if it was forever. The ridiculous amount of requests for Saihara’s afternoon were halted when an engagement ring was finally crafted for Kaede and Saihara, causing the noblemen and their daughters to back down from more attempts. Once a couple had been sworn by ring, there was little to do and try to stir and break the relationship -- rings were a sacred sort of object, and it meant absolute commitment. Although Saihara didn’t quite see the large important of just a piece of metal around his finger, he betted he would be able to understand in his later years.

Instead, what he chose to instead understand were more complicated mysteries and crime cases. It wasn’t as if he felt obligated to study these sorts of things -- it was simply something he found some enjoyment in, and even felt as sort of his second job. Solving crimes gave him a challenge, even if they were mundane and easy to figure out -- the satisfaction of solving a case shown through, and he was always momentarily filled with a sense of pride at justice being served. Although, some people actually disliked this part of Saihara -- accusing him of being a prince attempting to take away his people’s jobs, showing off to be better, and worst of all, the families of the culprits pinning the blame for the horrible actions of their own beloved one onto him. They called him a demon for exposing the sins that their own loved ones had committed on their own -- bashing him for being the person that ripped off a stubborn bandaid off of a wound. And this was one of the things that concerned Saihara the most -- unveiling the wound and the truth.

But he had acknowledged well by now that hate was simply something that he would get alongside love and justice -- as much as it pained his confidence here and there, and made him wonder who he really was and if he was worth all of this , many came to his reassuring side about his hobby, including Amami and Kaede. Even Tojo had praised him for his skill, and reassured him that those who simply could not handle the truth could remain in ignorant bliss as their loved ones, and even themselves, become swallowed in sin and despair.

His closest friend’s kind words were a reassuring mantra in his head whenever he was figuring out a case, which usually only took about a week or two -- he had been studying this phantom thief to no end ever since the start of autumn, and now winter was upon the kingdom of Acer and Primefield. The snow outside trickled down peacefully, as inside the warm chambers of his own room, Amami poured a sweet smelling tea for the prince who sighed through his mouth.

“Hah… this is difficult. The phantom thief hasn’t done anything in the past several months, and all possible evidence, like the picked lock, has already been disposed of. Kaede’s testimony is weak because she was sleeping, and otherwise, nobody saw him…,” Saihara finalized, staring up at the ceiling as he crossed his arms, thinking deeply. “The last thing he was reported to steal was a family portrait in the ballroom. After that, his crimes were put to a halt… and so suddenly. I can’t seem to figure this guy out…”

“Finally stumped, huh? Never thought it’d come to that with you , Milord,” Rantaro chuckled. “...I’m not saying that you’re a bad detective, rather, this phantom thief is a good criminal. His skill exceeds your knowledge, unfortunately…”

“Ah… you’re right, Amami,” Saihara muttered, tiredness consuming him again. It was a change of pace, to always be on his toes, waiting for the next crime to be committed. “Whoever this guy is, he’s certainly trained in stealth and sneaking around…”

“Milord? ...How about you try and solve some cases that haven’t yet been solved?” Amami offered, causing Saihara to look over his shoulder -- the butler was carrying his tray of tea over. “You know, in Riverdem, a decade or so ago, their prince got captured and was held for ransom. The king and queen paid no mind to this and it was rumored the prince has never been seen again… nobody knows if he’s dead or still alive. Perhaps you’re interested?”

Saihara let the thought simmer in his head, and considered the case. He had heard about Riverdem and it’s incredibly terrible crime rate -- it would be an interesting experience for Saihara to visit for a little while, but no doubt about it would he ruthlessly be tracked down for his head. Something told him in his conscious that the head of the Dashing Prince of Primefield, Shuuichi Saihara would be bid around an alleyway for large money. He was sure that every part of him would be sold for a large amount of cash -- even the more obscure and vulgar parts.

It was no wonder nobody really looked into the kidnapped prince case -- in order to gather your evidence, you had to be in Riverdem itself and interview it’s people, who could nearly slice your head off in one blow or were only interested in your cash. Saihara had never personally visited, and this was all based off of stories he had heard the workers tell each other in their upbringing -- he wasn’t sure what to believe about it.

“Maybe after this one, Amami,” Saihara responded after thinking about it, nodding to thank him for the tea as he took a quick sip. “I’m still pretty invested in this case, even if I keep hitting dead ends.”

“Ahah, hearing you raring to go for a case feels sort of nostalgic. You always used to be so hyped up for every case you solved. Now it sorta feels like a reflex for you,” Amami put, quite simply yet pretty much summed up how Saihara had felt for the past crimes he had solved. Amami mused onwards.

“Knowing this thief is putting some joy in you makes me glad. After all, you seem much more excited every day; like you’re happy about life.”

Saihara thought carefully about Amami’s words once he was left alone to simmer in his own thoughts. Although he was used to solitude, as time carried on, it became more and more bothersome to him for an odd reason -- like he wished for someone to always be there by his side, even during the quiet nights, with the moon shining her absolute strongest. Sure, Amami could always come to attend by his side, but… that was Amami’s job, and he couldn’t quite refuse being with Saihara if he asked him of it. Even if Amami was genuine in his intentions and wishes to spend time with the prince, Saihara would still feel bad about distracted Amami from his actual job.

With a tumbling sigh, Saihara approaches a wide bookcase implanted in the side of his wall, filled to the top with different genres of books, novels, collections of articles of the past… anything you could well imagine, all at his fingertips. Despite his height, generally on the taller side at five feet and seven inches off of the ground, he still needed a stepping stool to reach the tallest shelf. Saihara wasn’t looking for any book in particular -- in fact, he wasn’t looking for a book at all. He simply sauntered across the shelves, grazing his fingers over each spine of each book he passed by, feeling every crevice and indentation. It had to have been well past the midnight hour, and although he should have been feeling exhausted by now, insomnia decided that it wanted to pester him tonight.

His eyes were tired of staying open and his mind wanted him to go to sleep -- yet his body was filled with an odd sense of energy, hyper aware and hyper alert. It bothered him to an almost unbearable measure, but he refused to lose his composure to a simple condition that wasn’t even guaranteed to stay around. Therefore, instead of simply letting it have its way, Saihara led himself to his bed, still soft and comfortable and fluffy as always, as he allowed gravity to pull him downwards. He landed with a soft thunk onto the mattress, and proceeded to take immense attention to the ceiling overhead, watching the moonlight beams dance across the imperfections.

Dozing to sleep was easy after just a little more watching.

It had to have been only several minutes, maybe about fifteen to thirty of them, until a rustle, followed by a squeak, stirred the prince. He blinked, looking at the darkness above him and passing it all off as a dream, as he looked forward and saw a blur of white -- wait, a blur of white? Saihara immediately shocked his senses awake, and saw that his balcony door had been creaked open. He definitely did not remember doing that, as he dared to look to the side of his bed, and --

His head had met his pillows again, but this time by the force of a clown-masked creature, a dagger pulled threateningly to his head and a hand pushing him down by the neck. Saihara sputtered, as the clown cooed, “Shhh~ don’t worry, Saihara-chan! It’s me! Your favorite phantom thief~”

Huh?

“Ghh-ack-!” Saihara coughed out against the immense force that the phantom thief was putting against his throat, air escaping his lungs, and out through a clogged windpipe. What was happening? Why was it happening? The phantom thief’s grip didn’t soften at his squeak -- instead, perhaps he had squeezed even harder.

“Nishishi~ now listen, okay? I’ll let you go… on one condition,” The phantom thief sang, yet there was no melody to be found in the voice. “--We get to have that nice little chat we promised each other a couple month’s ago.”

“Wh-h, wha-?” Saihara spurted, managing to put the word together against the thief's force. If he kicked, surely he wouldn’t hesitate to drive that knife straight into his head -- he had no choice but to be submissive under the thief’s touch.

“Huh? You forgot our promise? H-How mean…! And I thought we were friends, Saihara-chan!” The thief cried, and Saihara could envision either the must coy smile on his face or a rejected expression, an obvious toy only to be played with. And that word -- friends . He thought of them as friends? That was the most ridiculous thing that was happening right now. Quellness fell over the scene, then, with the only exceptions being Saihara’s poor, struggling attempts to gather a little more air. The thief tisked. “...Ah, well, I'm over that now. But having you die right here right now wouldn't be a very interesting end, would it?”

The way that the thief emphasized on interesting sent a shiver up Saihara’s spine. He might as well have said another, gruesome, vulgar word like bloody , messy , or even the word fun . The trickster’s method of making Saihara tick in the worst ways, fluster him up and mess his (usual) composed nature was one he was certainly unused to -- treatment like this was the first in his entire lifetime as a crown prince. The amount of disrespect, the toying, the teasing -- it was a new wavelength, a one that was rushing, dangerous .

Here, he felt as if he finally fitted the role of Dashing Detective Prince of Primefield, Shuuichi Saihara.

Saihara could only to manage to nod under the submission of the thief -- the best course of action, since he was the one in the most vulnerable position, would simply to go along to this burglar's wishes, unless Saihara wanted to quit (and Saihara was not a quitter). He figured that a simple gesture like a nod wouldn’t be enough -- quietly, against the pressure, he managed words, “T-Th… I y-yield. L-Let’s… tea…”

He could feel the hesitation that radiated about the thief’s being, and the obvious thought he was putting into the compliance. After all, if he really wanted to, he could assassinate Saihara here on out and forever be known as the mysterious Phantom Murderer if he so chose the path. Just as Saihara started to reassure his person that, yes, dying wasn’t exactly bad and even though he never expected it this soon, at least it was by the hands of the person he had been pursuing for the past several months. Saihara had spent far too much time on the cases committed by this man, and if he were to go out right now, it would only be fair for his opponent to draw the checkmate in contrast to another distraction of their quiet yet tricky game of chess.

The thief lightened his grip against Saihara’s neck as the prince sputtered out for air. The dagger didn’t move from its spot, and the criminal had shifted from his position directly over Saihara to sitting beside him, weapon outstretched and pointing right at the prince’s skull. Even though Saihara would prefer not to be held at knife-point, at least the other had spared him from being choked and strangled into the next life. The thief hummed, “...Well, I guess that’s a good enough answer. But I don’t think you’d go all the way down to your kitchen for a little tea, y’know? So I bet you’d call your little butler of yours.”

Saihara inhaled as the thief exposed all of his plan right before it even begun. He was hoping it would fly over his head that someone other than Saihara would be bringing the tea (possibly forgetting out of the joy of just being treated like a royal member), but it seemed as if the other was far too intelligent for that. Saihara swallowed a cough, “...Well, I don’t see how else we’re to have tea…”

“Awww, aren’t you dumb ? And I thought you'd be smarter than that...,” The thief responded harshly, practically spitting the word "dumb" out with a merry tone -- Saihara was sure that, if that mask was pulled off, the spit would escape his lips with ease. “I never said that we had to have tea~ besides, most teas are disgusting, anyways. Let’s just resort age-old conversation, since that’s the safest for us.”

Us? He was grouping him with himself? No, conversation was the safest just for the thief -- it was the thing that would draw the least attention at this hour, and since Saihara was secluded on his own floor with no other bedrooms in the hallway, the chances of someone being around and hearing a conversation in their prince’s rooms were one to none. Saihara would nod obediently to the thief’s offer, as he laughed that unique giggle at the pitiful response, “Nishishi~ wow, I never knew princes could be this easy. Maybe it’s just you, Saihara-chan…”

In his mind, Saihara was analyzing all of these words with great intent. These were words poured out of the phantom thief himself -- if he were ever to get caught and get a trial, then these would be useful things to bring up. Carefully, the thief let his guard down as he trailed the dagger down Saihara’s sharp nose, past his trembling lips, tracing his chin and eventually leaving the one centimeter closeness it and Saihara’s skin were sharing. The thief chuckled again, “Now, a prince all to myself… this has to be the most fun I’ve had in awhile!”

And just at that moment, the bedroom door to Saihara’s room burst open with a tremendous force, sound, and shock, causing both Saihara and the thief to jump in their spots -- the thief, off of the bed. It was Amami, of all people, who had managed to catch sound of their conversation -- with a slick Colt revolver in his hand, polished and most definitely unused, but in Amami’s possession. The words that fell out of his mouth as the barrel pointed straight for the thief’s head were ones that Saihara had never heard him say.

“Not another step, or I might just kill you.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the night after Amami coming in was hectic, to say the absolute least.

The thief, likely out of his own panic at the sign of a gun (Primefield was not known for weaponry or any line of violence -- some wars in the past they had won, others they had lost. Their military defense was nothing to brag about, and due to Saihara’s presence, many used their so-called weapons for their proper use -- knives for chopping up thin slices of tomatoes. Guns cracking at the sight of a fresh buck in the springtime. The like,) taunted Amami with his skill as a marksman, previous coy and sly act dressing away into more of a lunatic one. Amami’s face showed no crack of emotion.

Saihara, amongst all the panic, wondered why on Earth Amami wasn’t just charging up to the guy right about now, instead squinting carefully at him, hand (with revolver, shining against the moon’s glow) showing no signs of trembling. This act seemed to get through to the thief, as Saihara managed to catch the thief mumbling, “Dammit!”

The thief had tried to make a quick beeline for the porch, but the unmistakable shot that Amami made then threw everyone in the room off guard -- he landed a bullet right at the door handle, blowing it right off of its stance. The thief jerked back, Saihara sure he was now intimidated into a corner as Amami’s face darkened quickly as he commanded him to surrender. With no choice now, as it was between life and death, the thief submitted and was apprehended. Workers of the castle, including Saihara’s own parents, made their way up to the room with the sound of the gunshot -- there was immediate havoc, with this mysterious assassin and an Amami would was now explaining the situation.

Although Saihara was then flooded with maids and other assistants asking if he was alright, Amami had handed him the revolver on the low as he was being escorted out with the thief. Saihara had given him a still-shock look, eyes wide and mouth hung open, as the word “How?” seemed to escape his lips without them even moving. Amami waved him off, which was an indicator he’d explain later.

The entire side of the country went absolutely haywire at the story once it was shared around, a week later.  Writers wrote dramatically in the newspapers of the thrilling tale of the hero servant, the threatened prince, and the condemned phantom thief. Simple truth turned into a dramatic tall tale, and the story of the night spread like fire against a quick fuse -- the explosion would follow, and all of the debris would still be falling after many days after.

Saihara had been quickly transported to a safer room the night of the crime, and the criminal was put in chains as soon as possible. It was far too early to handle everything at that moment of the night, so when the morning came about, Saihara had been extremely busy.

It was, in all and complete honesty, tiring. Although this had to do with the phantom thief, the one that he had been hot on the trail of for the past several months, it all just felt like more royal obligations. Not only this, but Amami was hailed the hero while Saihara himself had to resort to being the damsel in distress in the whole story -- something that made him feel more ashamed than angry. Ashamed that he wasn’t able to do anything in the duration when it was just him and the phantom thief -- he didn’t care if the people would take notice or not, he was simply upset that, because his life was on the line, he wasn’t able to have a proper conversation with the thief.

But who was he kidding? The more he got worked up about it, the more ridiculous it was -- the guy had tried to kill him.

The first day was filled with question after question, travel after travel and Saihara was never left alone for a single moment. More protection was ordered by his parents to ensure he wouldn’t be sought after anymore, but with some minor convincing, he was able to be left alone during some parts of the day and at night from the day after forward. Now in his new bed -- a guest bed reserved for the richest nobles that had the luxury of staying at Primefield Palace -- he felt insomnia ridicule him once more.

Ah, damn . Saihara cursed to himself, unsure to why sleep never wanted to come about to him even when he most needed it. It was like a habit of his body that his mind had no control of -- every inch of him was exhausted from the prior day, but something kept bothering him awake. Laying and watching the uneventful ceiling above him, the prince carefully considered what might have been bothering him.

Eventually, he reached the end where he concluded that it was the phantom thief that was bothering him.

No doubt had he probably went through much, much more than Saihara had at a much worse rate. It was beyond the prince why he felt even the slightest bit of remorse and pity for the man that had tried to kill him -- there was something about his actions that seemed… strange. Like there were more to those little perfect crimes than just the thrill and joy of it all -- after all, the ones that he had committed previous to Saihara’s attempted murder were simply stealing.

Stealing things that weren’t even of high value, like those soap bars or the family portrait of the entire Akamatsu family. The stolen portrait was the one that had hindered Saihara with the most questions, as it was the thief’s last heist before going on a hiatus until the night prior. No one in the country had mentioned a word to the public about being sold a luxurious painting of the Akamatsu family, so Saihara deduced he was simply making deals with those in the black market who really didn’t give two glances at the fact that someone may be this elusive Phantom Thief of Acer.

It made him wonder what the thief’s motives were, and if he would ever admit to them. He argued with himself in his head, about what he should do -- there was a chance that he could get to have that friendly conversation the other wanted to have so dearly, if he snuck down to the cold cellars at this hour. Saihara hummed to himself, finally deciding that he would submit to these thoughts and didn’t think anything terrible would happen. The thief was behind bars, chained to the wall (most likely) and wouldn’t be able to physically harm him. With this reassurance in mind, Saihara quietly treaded out of his temporary room and navigated himself through the familiar halls. A small candle being his only guide (turning hallway lights to a warm glow would be a bit dangerous, after all), he quietly found the floor entrance to the cellars and pulled the cover open, treading down silently.

He had never thought too much of the castle’s cellars. The only times that there were people locked up there was the real psychopaths, the ones that couldn’t be controlled even by the most composed individuals who had lost their patience with them, and were put in the cell or for execution. In fact, that was the only other reason a prisoner would be held in the castle cellar -- it was when they were to be held for a trial or an execution, and it was usually the latter. Sometimes criminals wouldn’t be given a trial, as unfair as that felt to Saihara -- yet, there was nothing he could do to stop these things in his childhood. It wasn’t a thing that happened often, so it had never mentally scarred his childhood mind.

However, knowing the thief was the only individual down there was a bit intimidating. The cellars were not exactly an inviting place for anyone.

When Saihara reached the base of the stairs, he held his candle around, allowing its light to shine into some of the cells. Like he had expected, most were either empty or only accompanied by cellar rats, who scurried at the shine of a light and the presence of another. Finally, Saihara flashed the fire light towards a cell, and there lay the phantom thief, unmasked -- his cape nowhere to be seen on his body, the top hat missing from his home on the crown of the thief’s head, and the whole-faced mask ripped from his visage. The thief’s eyes hung low, presumably sleeping.

“Ah, I should have known…,” Saihara muttered to himself, his quiet voice being the only noise in the room save for several droplets of dirty water from the small cell windows and the humble flicker of the candle’s fire. As he said this, the thief stirred, raising his head.

“Urgh… I won’t…” He groaned in his sleep, and Saihara had to take a step back at the sudden words. So he sleep talked, huh? His expression was one of pain, eyebrows scrunched up presumably to withstand some sort of suffering, yet his lips curved into a very faint smile. How odd. Flashing the candle’s light carefully towards the thief’s body, attached roughly to chains locked to the wall behind him, Saihara examined what he looked like in more detail.

Even though he had had up to two conversations (he wasn’t even sure one was considered a proper conversation, considering he was on the verge of becoming assassinated) with this boy, he had never had the opportunity to see his face. His skin was deathly pale, as if it were some sort of transparent lace, similarly to the ones he had observed on some of Kaede’s dresses. He looked to be relatively young, as he looked much more short now that Saihara was able to get a whole view of him -- his head shape was not sharp and defined, but rather still childishly innocent.

Saihara tried to take in all of these features about him whilst ignoring the actual state of his body. They were absolutely littered with bruises, marks and scratches -- it was as if he was thrown directly into a dogfight and lost, inevitably. Dried blood trickled out of not only his mouth but both of his nostrils as well, with his wrists and ankles noticeably stained a lush red from struggling against the chains of the wall. And the bruises, that appeared in every inch of skin that the thief had exposed… well, Saihara didn’t want to think about how he got those.

The thief stirred a bit more until he seemed to have noticed Saihara’s light, rising his head up limply while sputtering against what Saihara could only imagine, a blood-filled yet dry mouth, “W-What…? Want more…? Ni...shi… I guess I can play…”

The detective prince fumbled with his thoughts, wondering what he should say. He couldn’t exactly say he was here to have a nice chat, nor could he say that he was here to laugh at the thief’s face for getting caught -- the latter was simply untrue. Inhaling a breath, Saihara managed quietly, “Um… it’s me. Saihara.”

“Wha…?” The thief breathed, looking up from his gaze on Saihara’s shoes and instead looking up at the person that was carrying the candle. In the light of the fire, Saihara could see his eyes widen and fully display themselves -- they were bright, fresh, and young if they were fully opened and aware. Saihara could just imagine it. The pigment of his eyes flashed a notable purple, one he had sworn he had seen in the past before, before the thief’s words caught his attention away from his eyes. “Aha… my beloved detective prince…”

“J-Just Saihara is fine…,” Saihara stumbled, making up for his sudden fumbly nature by crouching down so that the thief didn’t have to look up. He was sure his neck wasn’t exactly in the best possible condition right now, and if it was, then it would only eventually cause more pain for him in the long run. It also bothered the prince to why he got embarrassed over such a title -- after all, he had been called many other, more romantic things by women that simply craved his attention. So why was he so unsettled by the thief’s? “...I, um, realized you never told me your name. ...You said you wanted to have a friendly chat, right? So…”

The thief blinked towards him, looking sleep and peace deprived. It filled the young man with a sense of unmistakable guilt -- the thief was already suffering enough, and being lulled away from sleep was only adding onto it. However, this was concealed behind a smile that he made the effort of making, as faint as it was. “Nishishi… I suppose it’s… only right for my… my beloved prince to… to know my name, huh…? C...Call me--” The phantom thief took a moment to cough to his side -- blood flew out of the spit. “--O-Ouma Kokichi…”

“Ouma… alright,” Saihara registered that name into a list of names as he looked upon the prisoner, remorse hitting him in tidal waves. Sure, he had tried to kill him… so why was he feeling pity for him. “I… I thought we could have that conversation you wanted to have. After all, you seem to be in a lot of pain right now… I want to relieve you of that.”

“Hahhh… oh, you’re so sweet, Saihara-chan…,” The comment was said both in a way that was sarcastic, and yet had some meaning. Even in a state like this, Ouma was still joking around, making his truths into lies or punting it into other mysteries. “A-And right before… my execution… nishi…”

“Your… execution?” Saihara’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the words of the now prisoner -- the one that had deceived all of the palace guards, workers, and even Acer’s queen and king themselves -- Ouma Kokichi. “Wait, they’re executing you? Already?”

“I didn’t… know that P-Primefield was… so brutal… nishi…,” Despite his struggle to speak, Ouma was still trying to giggle that signature laugh of his -- even if he only got a couple of huffs out. Saihara’s stare only deepened at this news as Ouma staggered on. “They said I’d be lynched… in the morning.”

“But…,” Saihara started, but trailed off, not knowing what he wanted to say. Lynched? Well, that was only to be expected if you were caught trying to assassinate a prince. But still -- an execution had not been done since Saihara was a young child. Knowing the person he was talking to would be killed off in only a few hours… “That… that isn’t right.”

Ouma managed to sputter a response after several coughs of blood, “Ah… wow… defending a person that… tried to kill you…! You’re… you’re so… interesting… ”

Interesting? Was that really the word that Ouma had used to describe Saihara’s course of actions? Well, it was certainly different than what Ouma was expecting -- he had expecting something insulting, like a claim that he was idiotic for thinking Ouma’s execution was unjust, or even something on the kinder side, like acknowledging his care and saying he was kindhearted. But it was neither of these things -- an equal pull in the middle. A positive and a negative that cancelled each other out and left nothing but questions behind.

“I’m assuming they tortured everything out of you, and as a result, you’re useless,” Saihara sorted out, rubbing his chin with his free hand. Ouma let out an agreeing hum, but said no more than that. Saihara tried his best to continue on. “Something in me just… just isn’t fine with that. After all, you haven’t done anything like this in the past… you just stole things. And your hesitation with letting me go last night…”

Saihara listed all of his information right in front of Ouma, who huffed, “Hah… I expect nothing… less from you…”

“--Are you really the type to try and kill?” Saihara finally concluded. “Your build doesn’t look to be fit for a killer, and you haven’t done anything else remotely dangerous to another person’s safety. Kaede woke up the morning you stole her ring untouched. So… why would you do something like this…?”

“Nishishi…,” Ouma laughed under a quiet breath. “S-Sorry, Saihara-chan… some secrets must… remain secrets… until you hit the grave…!”

“Ouma…,” Saihara said as a response, which seemed to hit in a spot of softness for the other. Saihara looked towards the darkness beside the two, thinking intently about how he would execute this. How he could say this, without scaring Ouma off. “...All I’m doing is trying to find the justice. Even though you tried to murder me… I think, ah, no, I know that that’s just not in your kind of agenda, right? After all, you call yourself a phantom thief , not phantom murderer.”

Ouma let out another small laugh, which would only be heard in the dark, damp, empty cell room. He managed to eye Saihara coyly, “W-Well… maybe I just wanted to… kill someone…! If I were to do that… I wanted it to be… someone like you, Saihara-chan…”

Saihara bit his lip. Well, Ouma’s responses certainly weren’t helping -- he wasn’t denying or confirming anything, and that was the most frustrating part for Saihara. It seemed as if truth versus lies were something fleeting to the other, and through this whole conversation, Ouma had either been smiling or laughing. Like he was happy to be going out this way -- and that was what upseted Saihara the most, “But… you told me that, if you were to kill me that night, it would be a boring way to go. Had… had you planned on murdering me at all?”

Ouma laughed, again, so, so lightly as a response, as if the last of his happiness was escaping his lips. The boy set his head to the stone wall behind him, leaning his head to the side, a droop in his eyelids as he murmured back a simple response with a smile, “...I wonder…”

His eyelids fell shut then, and Saihara momentarily panicked, wondering if he had talked Ouma to death. But when reassuring snores began to escape from his being, Saihara breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the other for a few more moments. To think, this boy would be executed when he woke up…

Saihara’s brows creased at this thought even harder as he made his way back up the steps, making sure to try and use any method at his disposal to wake up as early as he could.

Chapter Text

Saihara awoke to the sound of rioting people coming from outside his walls.

Groggy due to the early morning, he staggered quietly to his window as he rubbed his eyes solemnly, trying his absolute hardest to regain his vision in order to see what all the commotion was about. A crowd had gathered in front of the castle -- no, wait, the amount of people was more than just a crowd. It was as if the entire kingdom had gathered in front of the palace, and Saihara quickly jolted awake at the thought of there being something off. After all, he normally didn’t wake up to see a bunch of people in front of the palace, let alone one that looked to be two times the size of the kingdom’s population.

Saihara rushed to get dressed, silently cursing the intricate and complex ways of his own day-to-day outfit. This was as casual as he could slide with his parents, and yet, it still showed off his title as a noble -- it was somewhat of a burden, but he knew if he walked around in his sleeping wear, a worker or maid would hurry him back to his room to change into something proper, which would take more time than it was putting it on himself. With some fumbles here and there, Saihara finally managed to look arguably passable by his father and mother’s standards as he rushed quickly out of his temporary room and into the hallways. Some employees were doing their morning routines, bidding Saihara a good morning, but a majority were staring out of the windows as they did their job, obviously also interested in what was happening.

Saihara still had no idea what was going on, until it hit him on his way down -- Ouma’s execution.

Damn, how early was it? He had thought he set enough ways to wake himself up as early as possible, but it might have been due to staying up so late to talk to Ouma that had caused him to arise later than everyone that had been standing at the front of the palace, just trembling with excitement to see the famous Phantom Thief of Acer get executed in the kingdom in which he tried to kill the prince of. Saihara’s heart rate rose at the recollection of his conversation with Ouma that night, and how all of this was unfair, to him, at least -- this only urged him forward, his steps becoming quicker and lighter. When he arrived to the main entrance room of the palace, the large room was barren of life -- most out to watch the exciting execution.

Saihara flung the castle door open, but this did nothing to catch the crowd’s attention, as they suddenly burst into a flurry of cheers. Momentarily, Saihara had thought it was due to him arriving, but he saw what they were actually making all of the noise for -- the cheerings were actually boos, and insults began to get thrown around like flies. “Filthy scum!”, “Yeah, kill him!”, and “Take him to the noose!” were only some of thousands that people were cheering for. So that was why there were so many people -- some came from Primefield, more came from Acer.

The detective registered that the execution was taking place in Primefield in favor of Acer likely because of how swift Ouma was. It was understandable not wanting to risk the chance of him escaping, and as beaten up as he was, Saihara felt as if it wasn’t exactly out of Ouma’s line of knowledge of how to escape from authorities. He stood, practically glued to the ground as all of this ridicule was thrown at the young man he had talked to casually only hours earlier -- Saihara realized he was the last person that had ever tried to do something kind for him.

Well, regardless if he was being insulted out of his head or treated like a king, Ouma seemed to hold the same mentality for both treatments. Saihara couldn’t see from the distance, but something told him that Ouma was smiling at everyone who was calling him names or demanding his death, enjoying everything even before his death. Saihara quickly snapped out of it -- gah, what was he doing!? He needed to stop this!

Saihara began to make a beeline for the podium set up, the crowd surrounding it at a safe distance and the only opening being the line from the cellar to the stand itself. As the guards handled Ouma roughly onto the podium, practically throwing him on the floor (Ouma already looked half-dead, with his skin at such a deathly pale color and his limp way of reacting to the throw), Saihara shouted at the crowds, “Stop! Please! Please excuse me!” Only few took notice of the prince at first, but when some realized they were in the presence of the crown prince of Primefield, they quickly hushed their loud insults and stepped away from Saihara’s line of walk. Others, who surrounded him and noticed, too, followed suit quietly, some looking genuinely ashamed, others looking as if they would blow their top off if Saihara hadn’t interrupted him. The general quietness that suddenly masked one side of the crowd caused the other sections to quiet as well as they realized Saihara was there. The executioner noticed Saihara’s presence and bowed slightly, “...Milord.”

“Ah…,” Saihara breathed, looking at what was in his hands. It was a bag made of tweed, meant to be put over Ouma’s head so he wouldn’t know exactly when his fate would come. Saihara glanced over his shoulder, up at the main podium of the palace -- there, he saw what he expected, which was his parents, Amami, and surprisingly, but to be expected, Kaede and Tojo. It was not time to get flustered now -- he had a boy to save, and that boy was staring at him just as wide-eyed as everyone else, taken aback by his sudden presence. “P-People of Primefield, and visitors of Acer… firstly, I’d like to warmly welcome all of those who have traveled to our kingdom to witness this event.”

A “yeah!” was shouted in the crowd, which gave everyone the notion that it was alright to agree with Saihara’s words. The crowd cheered, now hyped up that the prince was taking a stand -- now that this thief had tried to kill him , it was Saihara’s job to finish him right back. Saihara bit his lip, knowing that everyone thought he was here for some sort of redemption from being called the damsel in distress, but Saihara knew what he was actually here for, “U-Um… but… I have actually come here to tell you all that this execution will be cancelled!”

A flurry of chatter hit the audience, followed by some yells here and there, “Just kill him already!” and so on, but the general tone of the public seemed to be confusion. Saihara glanced over his shoulder at the balcony -- his parents, along with Amami, Kaede, and Tojo, looked equally confused as they talked to each other. Finally, he took a look at Ouma, who had said nothing thus far -- but those eyes sparkled with something that Saihara could only describe as hope. Saihara cleared his throat, gaining more confidence to speak up, “I understand wholeheartedly that this young man has robbed Acer Palace of many of its possessions, and Kaede Akamatsu’s, Acer’s delightful princess, engagement ring. He is also faced with the charges of attempted murder, just as he had only two nights prior.”

The crowd met Saihara with an agreeing, understanding tone, which gave him the cue to continue onwards. “However, as the person that this thief had attempted to assassinate… I for one condemn this immediate execution. I refuse to sleep peacefully until this young man receives a proper trial. And if no one will grant him this luxury, then…,” ...Then? What would Saihara even do, if he couldn’t manage to convince his parents, and everyone else, to give Ouma a trial? What would he…? “...Then I will take him under my care myself, as my retainer !”

Shock struck the crowd like a lightning bolt, proving Saihara’s words to be effective. In the absolute truth, he simply shot out the first plausible thing that had come to mind -- an impulsive, reckless, and even dangerous move. After all, he had just promised publicly that if Ouma wasn’t to receive a proper trial for his crimes, then he’d hire him and give him, a young man who had once been a thief, one of the highest and most engaging jobs as a worker under a prince’s royal service. Saihara turned back again towards the balcony. His parents were no longer there, nor were Amami, Kaede or Tojo.

Ah, I’m really in for it… Saihara told himself, feeling his anxiety spike up -- dammit, curses! Why had he even bothered to talk to this criminal last night in the first place? If he didn’t show any sort of compassion for him, if he had simply resorted to hating him for what he had done not only to his best friend’s palace but to himself, then--

Ouma locked eyes with him. They were glossy, and moist, as if tears were about to form, but none came out. Ouma gave him a weak, but effort-filled smile as he huffed on the floor, defeated and tired again, as Saihara hoped he was only returning to sleep.

“...Hahm. This is the most assertive you’ve ever been in your life, Shuuichi. You truly are growing into a fine young leader,” Saihara’s father huffed, after an hour or two of long debating. Running his hands through his threads of hair, the same color as Saihara’s, the room fell silent until the king sighed. “...Alright. I will allow it. I suppose maturing also comes with recklessness -- even as a king, I too have made impulsive decisions and mindless mistakes. If you truly trust this individual so much, then I will allow him to work under you. However, if he shows even the slightest sign of misbehavior towards you or any other individual here…”

“...I understand, Father,” Saihara responded before his father had the time to finish his sentence. This was a dangerous agreement, more so for Ouma’s sake than anyone else’s. Saihara was putting everything on the line for this person, and he didn’t even know anything past his name and his previous job -- keyword, previous. Now, he had the biggest upgrade of his entire life.

The commotion that had followed after Saihara’s announcement was just as hectic as the night of Ouma attacking him. People scuttled, gossiping about why the dashing prince would try to save someone rumored to be so horrible -- some ladies swooned at his gallantness and compassion even for those who had done him the worst, and some openly fantasized about Saihara doing something similar for them. Others were still in a midst of confusion, while the rest were either disappointed or riled up. It took several hours to get everyone in order until most of the streets were barren from the crowds and instead filled with the usual population.

While all of this was being taken care of by castle guards and authorities, Saihara had his own predicament on his hands -- dealing with his father and mother. Saihara’s interruption was certainly uncalled for, and the reprimanding he received was his first in a very long, long time. It wasn’t very often he had to be scolded or told otherwise by his parents, as he was usually very obedient and submissive to their word -- because of this, Saihara could deduce the way they had taken the whole thing was lighter than if he had a more rebellious streak. This was done in the throne room, only the most trusted of individuals around, including Kaede, who sat speechless on a chair, Tojo, who stood diligently beside her, and Amami, who kept glancing at Saihara with obvious questions.

Ouma was present too, but not without several figures of authority monitoring him -- and his hands and ankles were still bound, tied together now by rope that Saihara could only imagine the burning of. Once his father had gone through with scolding his son, he informed everyone present in the room that another execution would take place tomorrow morning at the same time, and Saihara couldn’t stand for that.

It was the first time he argued against his father’s words, but not in a way that was a son with his father -- it was as if the trial was happening right now, and he was trying his best to give the most convincing argument he could. This was what lasted a hour or two -- and all on the fly, as Saihara had not been prepared whatsoever to try and convince his father and mother to allow Ouma the chance. They had reluctantly agreed, but not without a lot of fighting and an even more amount of rules.

The rules were simple and understandable for their situation, however. There were several just about Ouma’s behavior itself. For example, if Ouma was caught wandering the halls at night alone, then he would immediately be punished and assumed with theft. Saihara’s parents entrusted Saihara’s trust in Ouma, but Saihara was not 100% sure he had faith in Ouma’s words and actions. After all, they had only interacted three times at this point, and Ouma was pretty much a liar and a jokester -- he wondered just how far those jokes went.

But if he could save him, a life that was to be executed without fairness, then he would try.

Other rules included Ouma’s behavior as a retainer, his performance and what he did. He’d be tracked and recorded for the following week, and if he showed signs of any suspicious behavior, then he’d be marked down for it. As the list of behavior requirements for Ouma piled up, the more did Saihara’s regret for this entire situation -- but there was no backing out at this point. Once again, this was for a life that he could save.

The reason that a trial wouldn't be held for Ouma was because there wasn't much use in one -- the people of the jury would be prejudiced and biased, and even if Saihara were to bring up points in which proved Ouma innocent in many ways, it wasn't as if people were to believe him easily. Not only this, but there was little Saihara had to defend Ouma with --

The meeting was dismissed, and both Amami and Kaede looked at Saihara desperately, both wishing to speak with him. Tojo also glanced at him, but looked respectful and seemed to have nothing to say to him. Saihara waved his hand, cueing them that they’d have to talk about it all later -- it was a gesture he adopted from Amami. Amami’s face fell with a sort of bothered but understanding expression, while Kaede still looked to be troubled as Tojo escorted her out of the room. Amami stayed beside the king as he explained something to him.

Ouma’s authorities approached him, Ouma staying behind with one guard, “Milord, since the thief is now your retainer, would you like us to inform some maids to clean him up and dress his wounds?”

“Ah… yeah, please,” Saihara breathed, finally glad that Ouma would be receiving some alright treatment. He eyed the thief, who was sitting limply on the floor, still so dead looking -- he wondered what he looked like with life poured back into him. “If my room’s all ready now, escort him there when you’re done. I’ll be waiting. If not, I’ll be in my temporary room.”

Much to his thankfulness, Saihara was free to return to his regular chambers after being given the okay by several of the maids. He checked the door handle on his balcony -- it was replaced after Amami had shot through it, with a new sense of grip. Everything else in his room remained the way it was, with the obvious exception of there being a thorough cleaning -- his bed was made, his clothings in his wardrobe were all sorted orderly, and the books on his shelves looked to be individually dusted. The prince also took note of added locks on all of his doors, including the bathroom door.

It took an hour or so of anxious waiting, and Saihara wondered if the workers at the castle were actually treating him kindly. After all, Ouma was the man who had tried to murder their prince, so it was only understandable they’d be a little hostile. Saihara could only nervously flick at the corners of this mystery novel, one that he hadn’t managed to finish in all of the commotion and workings to capture and find the phantom thief, and he couldn’t quite concentrate on the words. He was far too jumpy, reacting to every sound in the room.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door -- one which nearly sent him flying out of his seat, but he managed a, “C-Come in!” He cursed the stutter and voice crack that followed, but nonetheless. Two guards came walking in with a much more refreshed looking Ouma -- there was some color back to his skin, and his face was covered in different sorts of bandages to where scratches were. The dried blood had been washed off, and his hair shined it’s natural color -- which was a dark plum, with some now noticeable lighter strands of purple.

A guard urged Ouma by the shoulder as if to give him a notification to do something, as Ouma blinked and nodded, a blank expression on his face as he looked straight at Saihara with those familiar eyes, “Good afternoon… milord .”

The guards huffed, somewhat satisified with this answer as they took care of the conversation from then on out. Both had tried to convince Saihara to allow one of them to be in the room while Ouma was with him, but Saihara had once again managed to convince them otherwise to try and give him and Ouma some privacy. As soon as the door closed behind the two guards (who had had compromised with, and were now standing guard in front of his door), an awkward silence filled the room.

Saihara spoke first, “So… um… let’s sit down.”

Ouma complied to his suggestion without much stir, and there was even more silence as the two sat next to each other on Saihara’s luxurious couch. Saihara sighed, “Hey… uh… I know my father had set up all of those behavior stuff for you, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be silent around me. We can talk now.”

Ouma continued to keep quiet as he simply watched Saihara try and explain this already awkward situation. Ah, damn. But just as he thought all hope was lost, Ouma broke out into a wide grin, “Awww~ my beloved detective prince wants me to be myself! How sweet -- I think I may just cry!”

“W-What? Oh, don’t,” Saihara said anxiously, not really wanting to deal with a crying Ouma, but he would have to be prepared. He was probably happy, and--

“...Just kidding. About the crying part, at least…,” Ouma responded to himself, giggling. “Nishishi~ maaan, that was the best I’ve been treated in, like, forever! You just keep surprising me… and now, I have to work under you?”

“Ah… you aren’t happy with that?” Saihara asked, slightly confused -- well, of course someone wouldn’t be happy about working sometimes, but Ouma was just saved from certain death, at the expense of Saihara arguing his way through for his reassured safety. He felt sort of attacked for all the work he had done just to save Ouma’s tail.

“Huh? Not at all! I wanted to have a grand execution -- poor little princey stopped it though. Is it because you… care about me?” Ouma asked, a purr in his tone. Saihara couldn’t help but furrow his brows.

“I mean… I don’t…,” Saihara stumbled to find words. That just seemed to be the case whenever he talked to Ouma -- being at a loss for words. “...So you wanted to get executed...?”

“...Ah, well, no, not really. Getting hung isn’t an exciting execution anyways,” Ouma switched into a more bored tone, and Saihara was being pulled in the completely opposite direction. “But if you assume I don’t care about what you did, well… you’d be wrong.”

“Ah, so you appreciate it?”

“Maybe. I don’t know -- after all, I am a liar,” Ouma chimed, and Saihara was already exhausted. So, he had saved a man from dying, but at what cost…? “But since I’m your retainer now, looks like I’ll have to be a little more truthful, huh? Geez, how boring.”

“Um, well, I’d appreciate it if you were…,” Saihara responded, not even one hundred percent confident in his words. Ouma giggled.

“Don’t worry, my beloved Saihara-chan! I’m all yours to do whatever you want to me -- after all, I’m now your retainer, my prince.”

Chapter Text

Keeping track of Ouma was like trying to keep track of a curious child.

Well, Ouma wasn’t something far from this -- though Saihara had felt it to be unfair towards Ouma to label him as a child. He had found out that he was, indeed, young, and was a year Saihara’s junior. It mentally pained him to know that people were demanding to see the death of this fifteen year old, someone who had yet to see most dangers in the world. But perhaps it was also wrong and unfair to assume Ouma hadn’t seen or hadn’t experienced these dangers -- after all, he lived as a thief (another assumption) before his time as Saihara’s retainer.

Beyond his name (and even this, Saihara had no way of confirming it was not just a simply alias) and his past occupation, there was little to nothing he knew about Ouma since day one. As much as he had tried to have regular small-talk, just to get to know Ouma since he’d be working under his command, Ouma’s stories kept shifting and he kept lying through his teeth. The only way Saihara was able to keep up with this was because Ouma had kept contradicting himself by saying, “Not really, that’s a lie.” or “You know I’m lying, right?”

By the end of the week Saihara was absolutely drained -- he had never once had to deal with somebody so mentally exhausting, and yet, he felt it in his being that it was a welcomed change. He had never been treated so… casually in the past. Even Amami had set a standard role when he confronted Saihara, as casual as it may have been. It was just… different, having someone simply toy with him like Ouma did. Furthermore, it wasn’t like Ouma was necessarily disrespecting him or causing him extreme discomfort like the rules had stated, and he carried no weapons on him despite having to be Saihara’s retainer to protect him for harm. It was likely because this week was just his testing of patience, resistance, and composure -- and to Saihara, Ouma was nailing it flawlessly.

He didn’t speak rudely to any royal members or even any workers, at least, from what Saihara had heard of him through reports by the end of the seven days. The only times to where Ouma allowed himself to speak freely is when he was alone with Saihara -- while Saihara had watched his father leave the palace to travel to Acer (he was told it had to do with his engagement to Kaede), Ouma diligently placed by his side, Ouma snickered to himself, causing the prince to look at him quizzically. Ouma made his mouth imaginarily zip and simply began to rock on his heels.

When the two were alone again, heading towards Saihara’s room (Saihara was still trying to get to know him during his time under the radar), Ouma cackled, “Hey, Saihara-chan -- your dad has a pretty impressive bald spot!”

He hadn’t expected it, nor did he expect what his mind had chosen for him to do next -- which was laugh. Saihara laughed -- it wasn’t a holler or howl, nor was it one of those polite chuckles you did in an awkward situation -- it was a genuine laugh , even though Ouma was talking about his father. It was true! He had noticed it when he was around eleven or twelve, but his father chose to cover it up with some fancy ornament or his crown to deteriorate attention, “Ahaha! I know… I thought nobody else would say anything funny about it. I talked about it with Amami in the past, but he seemed to only laugh because I was…”

Saihara took a glance at Ouma when he heard no response -- what he saw confused him the most that whole week. He seemed to look sort of… stunned, as if someone had hit some sort of switch on him which left him on complete standby; cheeks, tinted the slightest crimson. Saihara blinked, looking around the hallways as he turned towards Ouma, reaching out to shake him, “Hey, um, Ouma? Did I say something wrong?”

Ouma’s blank stare, then, turned into his usual bright smile -- eyes scrunched up and closed as he sang, “Nishishi~ no, nothing, my beloved prince. I just wanted to see how you’d react~ your panicked face is so cute ~”

The compliment, although kind in its words, was said in a more teasing fashion (nearly like a taunt, but by this point Saihara understood Ouma wasn’t out for Saihara’s violence) than anything. So much so, that it was difficult for Saihara to take it all in seriousness -- but regardless of whether or not he was teasing, Saihara blushed, “H-Hey, don’t worry me like that. If I say something wrong, then you have to tell me…”

The two carried on towards Saihara’s room, Ouma humming as he thought up of a reply, “Ohhh, you care about me so much, Saihara-chan! I’m truly so, so thankful!”

“...That’s a lie, right?”

“...Oh, you caught me. You’re getting better at catching my lies, aren’t you, Saihara-chan?” Ouma sang, opening the door to Saihara’s room once they were close enough -- though he showed no signs of carrying it open for Saihara, who trailed behind. Saihara wasn’t the least bit bothered by this -- Ouma’s treatment of him in this fashion was most likely either out of not knowing or not caring enough, but at least it showed he thought of Saihara as a man who could handle a simple task like opening a door. “Just as expected from the Dashing Detective Prince, Shuuichi Saihara!”

“T-That’s just a nickname the public gave me…,” Saihara murmured as a response, watching Ouma make himself comfortable by throwing his entire body onto his sofa. Again, something he didn’t particularly mind -- it was just new, to see someone so alright with him, even though he was royalty. “There’s nothing dashing about me. All I do is try and help figure out crime cases in the kingdom…”

“Nishishi~ but don’t you know? You do a loooot more than some princes,” Ouma chimed, throwing his hands up towards the ceiling and wiggling his digits, as if a form of amusement. Saihara sauntered towards him, interested. “Y’know, I’ve been to all sorts of places where the royalty doesn’t do jack shit. Some princes just sleep all day, others stuff their face… it’s gross. Which is why I’m happy to have you as my beloved prince, Saihara-chan!”

“Oh… do you really mean all that?” Saihara inquired, a question he had to ask multiple times throughout the week -- it was just that hard to figure out Ouma, and even though he asked this question, he wasn’t even sure he’d receive a truthful answer.

“About going places? Nope. That was a lie. The princes part? Yup! And the part about you being my prince, Saihara-chan…,” Ouma trailed off dramatically, looking at Saihara slyly, who was leaning against the backboard of the sofa in order to listen more carefully to Ouma’s words. “Well, of course I wasn’t lying! Anyone would be happy to be your retainer!”

Saihara momentarily breathed a sigh of relief, but just as you did, Ouma continued, “...is what you want me to say, huh, Saihara-chan? Nishishi~ and you looked so happy there, too!”

The caused the prince to be taken aback, once again building up a somewhat annoyed, but playful inhale -- it was a strange thing. Why did he not feel completely annoyed by this sort of treatment? He was sure that Ouma was right when he said some princes didn’t do much other than command others to fulfill their selfish desires, and they’d likely command the death of anyone who would treat them the way Ouma was treating him. It had dawned on him that Saihara really wasn’t this sort of prince, and he kept his thoughts a secret, believing that Ouma held at least a little bit of truth with saying that he was happy to have him as a liege.

It was sort of… nice, to be able to talk to someone without much force. He had always had Amami, but in the end of it all, Amami was not his butler -- he was simply a worker for his father that he got close to. Ouma was different. Instead of being under his father’s orders, he was under Saihara’s orders -- the first time he had ever experienced this sort of thing. When he admitted this to Ouma, a day after Ouma’s week-long examination was over and he was under less intense watch, Ouma laughed, “So that means I’m your first, Saihara-chan~?”

All Saihara could do was say yes to the statement, which caused Ouma to say he was flattered by Saihara’s words and proceeded to tell the prince that, since he was so inexperienced in this field, he could command him to do anything. This took him aback, and when Saihara had to confirm if Ouma was being completely honest, Ouma replied with, “...Well, maybe I’m not if you keep asking me. C’mon, Saihara-chan. Do you need me to murder someone, nishishi~ I should’ve told you, but I’m actually an experienced assassin. I’ve killed hundreds of people out of this kingdom! I just happened to mess up when I was taking care of you.”

“Ah… I see,” Saihara simply said, feeling a lie radiate off of those sticky, sharp words. “Well, um… if that’s the case… I, er… humbly request you tell me the truth.”

Ouma’s face grew blank in an instant, and Saihara wondered if he had done anything wrong before Ouma simply spat back, “Nope.”

“‘ Nope ’?” Saihara repeated back, surprised at Ouma’s stern response. His face seemed to lighten, however, with a sly smile.

“That’s a bit cruel of you, my prince, don’t you think? After all… that’s like asking you to stop looking into cases meant for detectives, and not pretty princes like you~” Ouma sung, which caused Saihara’s eye to twitch. He had been told he wasn’t supposed to be solving cases in the past by royal mentors and counselors of his father, and even though he had silently nodded to these demands, he felt bothered by it. He could have been labeled “like any other prince” if they wanted to slap that upon him, but telling him he wasn’t allowed to solve these cases was… “Nishishi. I hit a soft spot in you, didn’t I, Saihara-chan? Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes.”

The detective looked up at Ouma, who was standing in front of him -- Saihara was sitting on his bed, while Ouma had taken upon himself to saunter back and forth in front of him while their conversation carried on. Blinking as he looked away, somewhat ashamed, he muttered an apology, “Ah… sorry, Ouma. I was just thinking back on things, so I suppose you did sort of trigger me back to some memories.”

“Man, even you princes get your troubles, huh?” Ouma smiled, throwing himself down next to Saihara’s place on the bed, kicking his legs. Ouma entered a state of thought and looked as if he wished to say more, but notably restrained himself. Saihara considered giving him the reassurance to speak… but backed out.

“Well, yes. Everyone suffers in different ways, after all,” Saihara mused, looking at a painting of him and his mother and father right in front of the bed, directly placed on a wall that was some meters away. Silence fell over the two, and Saihara restrained himself from looking beside him to watch Ouma’s expression (he had discovered this was the best way to figure him out, was when he was silent [it usually meant he was in thought]) as he brought up a less heavy subject. “So, um, where do you come from?”

“My mother’s vagi-”

“Y-You know what I mean!”

Ouma sat back up at Saihara cutting him off, snickering. “Okay, fiiine. But before that… you’ve never gotten laid before, have you, Saihara?”

“L-Let’s not talk about that, Ouma!” Saihara practically squealed, red burning in embarrassment. Even though he was a prince with a ten million dollar crotch, he had never thought about ever touching a woman with dirty intentions -- even though he was a guy, it wasn’t often he thought about… pleasure . Maybe it was because that was just not his thing, but perhaps it was due to another unfathomable reason. Regardless, he didn’t need to have sex at this age, and if he really wanted to, any woman would want to throw themselves onto him.

“Geez, fine! Nishishi~ my prince’s a virgin~” Ouma teased in a sing-songy tone, as if he had a right to do so. Saihara was sure Ouma hadn’t had sex yet either, but he wanted to escape from this topic as quickly as possible. Ouma seemed to calm down after Saihara keeping quiet from his teasing, as if it bored him, as he chose to answer Saihara’s question. “Well, anyways, I’m from far away. You wouldn’t know the kingdom.”

“Ah… you’re from out of the country?” Saihara found that hard to believe. “But you look like you’re from this area -- you don’t look foreign.”

“Heeeey, can you really go around assuming that? Y’know that isn’t very detective-like -- you have to have evidence, and you have zero ,” Ouma snickered, unashamedly, putting Saihara into a corner of absolute truth (ironic, since Ouma was the liar here).

“Yes, I know…,” Saihara sighed. It was no use. Ouma would simply cover himself up with tale after tale, and Saihara was in the dark about knowing which was truth and which was lie -- Ouma seemed to be enjoying himself until the very end. Saihara studied his face a bit more carefully, and his eyes stuck out to him again as a defining feature -- he had sworn he had seen them before, but eyes were not the exact part of a person he recognized instantaneously unless they were unique in some way. “I’m just suggesting that you may be from here… er… maybe Riverdem?”

“Riverdem? Oh, how cold of you, Saihara-chan! Assuming I’m from s-such a bad kingdom, t-that…,” Ouma’s eyes watered up, looking down at the floor with furrowed brows and tears that looked like they were threatening to fall. And so they did. “W-WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! MY PRINCE TH-THINKS I’M FROM A BAD KINGDOOOOOOOOM!!!”

“H-Hey, Ouma! Calm down, please!” Saihara urged, turning Ouma by the shoulder and carefully wiping his hand on Ouma’s cheek, trying to rid of the falling tears. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to offend you by comparing you to Riverdem folk.”

Ouma sniffed, and stayed still as Saihara wiped down his cheeks, red from the tears and sudden bowling. Ouma snickered, then, voice completely in line as if he wasn’t crying in the first place, “...Oh, but I was just kidding, Saihara-chan. I am from Riverdem.”

“You are?” Saihara asked back, pulling his hand away from Ouma’s cheek. Ouma snorted.

“No.”

“What? Then where are you from?”

“I already told you! My mother’s--”

“Ouma!!”

Eventually, Saihara was able to find some truths about Ouma (alright, he knew that he had zero solidity to whether what Ouma told him about himself was true or not, but there was nobody that knew Ouma better than Ouma himself -- and if he insisted that something about him was true, there was no evidence to think otherwise). He had been able to discover that Ouma was indeed from Riverdem -- he was simply some ordinary boy who had an ordinary family, with an older brother and a little sister. He had several friends, most notably a large group of kids who nicknamed themselves DICE (Ouma claimed to be their leader) but disbanded due to Ouma wanting to pursue his phantom thief career.

Ouma ran away from home and began to steal things from random houses and food stands in Riverdem, but it was all entirely too easy for his taste -- the people of Riverdem cared little. That was when he migrated fifty miles all the way to Acer, and took shelter under the care of some old lady who thought of Ouma similarly to her own grandchild for several years. Saihara had attempted to wiggle out some sort of clue of where the Akamatsu’s possessions were, but Ouma had easily caught this attempt and responded in a way that said “Nice try, Saihara-chan!”

One evening, the two were outside on Saihara’s balcony, watching the lights of the city below them. It was cold January, several months after Ouma’s recruitment, and Saihara still knew next to nothing about his retainer -- Ouma pointed excitedly towards the sky, “Hey, check it out, Saihara-chan!”

Saihara looked up at the starry sky, squinting for anything interesting -- all he saw were the stars littering the dark blanket of the night, and the moon herself, bright and shining. Saihara looked more intently for what Ouma might have been talking about, but he shook his head, “Uhm… I don’t see anything, Ouma.”

“What? Are you suddenly blind?” Ouma shot back, pointing directly at the sky. “Look!”

Saihara looked again, trying his best, but Ouma seemed to just point to the abyss of the stars, “I-I still don’t see anything…”

“Oh, and I thought they educated princes,” Ouma scoffed, beginning to move his finger against the sky. “You ever heard of constellations?”

Constellations! Of course , “Oh, yeah. I was taught about them, but I don’t really know how to identify them in the sky… there’s so many stars, after all.”

“Well, it’s easy,” Ouma said back, tracing the constellation in the sky again. “That one over there is Taurus. Y’know, the bull. Then over there,” Ouma’s hand shifted, beginning to trace a more intricate pattern of stars. “That’s all of Orion. You can spot him because of his funny belt!

“Oh, yeah… Orion’s belt,” Saihara repeated back. It was strange -- Ouma’s knowledge of constellations was something he didn’t exactly expect him to have. And telling him he could identify Orion by his “funny belt” rather a more insulting, crude way of remembering… it perked Saihara’s interest. “How do you know all of this?”

“Nishishi~ I always thought the stars were pretty cool. They say when we die, we become stars,” Ouma responded happily, as if watching the sky brought him a bliss. “Hey, Saihara-chan.”

“Yes?”

“I think if you were a star, you’d be the sun!”

“Do you mean it?”

“...Nope. I think you’re more like the moon.”

Chapter Text

It was undoubtedly difficult to get to know Ouma, but perhaps trying to decipher what was lie and what was truth was what interested Saihara in the first place.

Saihara only had a handful of things he could believe that Ouma had insisted was the absolute truth, and, once again, there was no way that he could confirm whether these things were even believable. But what choice did he have? Nobody in the castle had anything to say about knowing Ouma in the past, and Saihara was unsure if he wanted to go and interrogate everyone in Acer, especially just to find this old lady Ouma was talking about that took care of him.

Not only this, but his life grew increasingly busy once Ouma was introduced to it. Saihara assumed it was because Ouma was around, now, so Amami had no reason to tag along with him anymore and could handle something else other than babysitting him -- now, it was Saihara’s turn to babysit Ouma. Surprisingly Ouma was on good behavior when they were with other nobles or positions of power, but fell back into his usual nature when they left. It was like every other authority could shut him up -- Saihara was the rare exception.

It’s probably because he’s comfortable with me , Saihara thought to himself, as he watched Ouma practice with a gun -- he was fumbly, obviously inexperienced, despite him protesting earlier, “Nishishi~ Amami may have a good shot, but I have a better one!”

As Saihara watched from a good distance Ouma practice his marksmanship, Amami the training area, watching intently as Ouma hit an outer ring of a target, “Ahah… well, his shot isn’t the worse.”

“Yeah. I can tell he’s trying to get better,” The gun shot again, this time missing the target completely. Ouma seemed to either not hear their conversation (likely, since he was farther away from them) or ignore them, too invested in his training. “...Oh! Amami, you never told me. Your shot is…”

“It’s impressive, huh? I got that a lot…,” Amami scratched the back of his neck, smiling politely. “If you want to know… I’m the older brother of twelve girls. Sometimes food wasn’t very good, so I went and hunted myself to cook it. I guess I just got better as the years went by.”

“Ah, I see…,” Saihara replied to show his acknowledgement. “And the gun. It looked unused before that night. Was it new?”

After Amami had handed the gun off to Saihara, he had kept it around for a little to examine its finer details before sending it off to a maid. Hopefully she had safely delivered it to Amami. The butler nodded, “Yes.”

He divulged no further into the topic of the gun after answering Saihara’s question, but even if he tried, Ouma’s voice distracted the both of them, “Wooo! Hey, Saihara-chan, check it out! I got it in the third ring!”

Spring rolled in lazily into the country, and Primefield was more than prepared.

Compared to every other kingdom, it was known well for its springtime events, festivals, and activities -- mainly because the area was particularly beautiful during the season. Flowers sprouted on house’s front porches and window ledges, trees sprouted to reach the high sun, and Primefield’s spring crops were by far the most popular compared to their summer and winter produce. In the spring, there seemed to always be something good to look forward to.

It was particularly because of all the eventful things in the springtime for Primefield that Saihara felt the spring months pass by fairly quickly, but maybe it was also Ouma’s fault, too. After all, Ouma seemed to be the genuinely excited for all of these events, even if he did insist that all his excitement was simply a false front. Ouma’s general interest in all the festivals caused Saihara to attend more than he was really required to -- of course, being in the public eye meant people seeing him, which meant being completely bombarded, but with Ouma, it was different.

They had been out together, but never in public alongside the common folk -- and when they had Ouma confronted one of the swooning girls calling after Saihara (it got to a point where it could be considered a form of harassment, with the way she kept calling after him, commanding the prince to impregnate her with his child) with a, “Hey, that’s my liege! He doesn’t need you, you disgusting gibface. Saihara-chan has much more refined tastes than to talk to a lowly hedge-creeper like you.”

Such a fire of insults caused the girl to run away in a crying frenzy, and Saihara anxiously confronted Ouma about this as they traversed the streets, people eyeing them for two different reasons, “O-Ouma, could you treat the people with more… respect? I understand that you think they aren’t as important as nobles, but accusing that girl to be a hedge-creeper isn’t exactly the kindest thing.”

“B-But, I was just trying to d-do my job…,” Ouma’s voice shook, and Saihara was hit with the realization that he was about to spill his crocodile tears. Even if they were fake, it would be bad if anyone else paid mind to them… and Ouma was right. Even if he was putting it in a harsh why, he was trying to protect Saihara from harassment -- only, it was in a form that Saihara was not entirely fine with.

“Hey, that’s enough… I, I understand that you’re trying Ouma. Just… just say it a little nicer next time, okay? Thank you for trying to protect me,” Saihara mused, awkwardly patting Ouma’s head to try and comfort him. Ouma’s scrunched up face, soon to be filled with fake tears, dissolved as Saihara’s hand patted his head further. Ouma took a moment to register this, and then backed away hastily.

“Nishishi~ well, at least you aren’t making an even bigger scene. Good job, my beloved prince! I’ll reward you by being on my best behavior,” This is what Ouma promised, but he proceeded to do more mischievous stuff during the festival they were attending. But by this point in time, Saihara had acknowledged there really wasn’t anything he could possibly do in order to change the mischievous part of Ouma -- he had been exposed, and knew that all of this was just part of who Ouma was.

Later that spring, in about mid-May, an announcement hit the country by storm: Riverdem was announcing they would hold a mourning event in regards to their missing prince, who had been kidnapped sixteen years ago.

The mourning ceremony would take place on the 21st of June -- the event being the releasing of paper boats with special candles implemented in them in order to pay respects to the missing, and possibly deceased prince. The kingdom advertised it would be for all lost loved ones, and it was a grieving far all of those who had been victim to death, but likewise, the prince’s absence was the main reason for all of this.

The country seemed to go absolutely haywire over this -- Riverdem hadn’t touched the case of their missing prince for years. Due to Saihara’s young age when this happened, he had intensively inquired Amami about it several days after the event date and time were announced. Amami hummed, “It all happened sixteen years ago. I don’t remember it very clearly… I was still only about nine or ten years old. I wasn’t even working for your father yet.”

“Ah, so even you don’t remember that well…,” Saihara registered, taking note of it.

“Hey there, I’m not that old, Saihara,” Rantaro chuckled politely. “I remember vaguely that there was a lot of controversy and theories about the entire thing. Everyone that was in debt or needed money did their best to try and find the missing prince, since the reward for finding him was extremely high, like you’d expect. People came forward with baby after baby claiming this was the missing prince, but the king and queen would shoot them down, knowing none presented were its child.”

“How could they tell? If he was a newborn, then how was it possible for them to identify if a baby was theirs?”

“Oh… well, that part, I don’t quite remember,” Amami laughed, scratching his head. “I was pretty busy with my sisters, so I didn’t pay too much attention to that news. My sisters said they wanted to look for the baby, so we went searching in the woods a couple of times, but of course, we turned up with nothing. Maybe I am older than I think…”

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, Amami. It’s just, you’re the best person I can ask right now,” Saihara apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you feel old. You’re only… um…”

“I’m thirty two, Saihara,” Amami finished the sentence for him, which sort of sent him aback -- thirty two? Amami didn’t look a day after twenty one!

“R-Really? I thought we were much closer in age than that.”

“Ahaha… I’m just messing with you, Saihara. But ouch. You believed me there for a second,” Amami joked, which caused Saihara to shake his head and sigh, a small smile on his face. He already had to deal with Ouma’s jokes and lies. Was Ouma influencing him? “If you need a reminder, I’m only twenty five… but the effects of adulthood are already reaching me.”

“Hey, I didn’t…,” Saihara trailed off watching Amami wave him off casually with an open hand.

“Don’t worry about it, Saihara. I’m only messing with you,” Amami laughed lightheartedly, looking at a clock in the hallways -- Saihara only realized now, too, that they had stopped each other in the hallway to have a quick chat which turned into something much longer. Saihara had been walking towards the training halls in order to check up on Ouma, while Saihara assumed Amami was handling his work. “Well, I have to go now… your father needs me.”

Saihara gave a sort of “what can you do?” look as he shrugged, bidding Amami goodbye as he let those thoughts linger a little. His father seemed to be needing Amami more nowadays, which was a little odd -- after all, Amami had been around him much more before Ouma’s arrival, but again, he deduced the reasoning to the fact that Amami no longer needed to babysit him. It was Saihara’s turn to mature on his own. Letting him have his own retainer was just one big step in a long journey.

When Saihara arrived to the training center, Ouma had seemed to just finish his practice, and at the sight of his liege, he made a quick attempt to tackle him into a hug, “My beloved prince~!”

“O-Oum--” Saihara started, only to get the wind knocked out of him upon the other’s contact. For such a small guy, he had a lot of force in his tackles -- this was probably a good thing, as Saihara’s new means of protection. Saihara stepped back in order to handle the sudden thrust of weight upon him, and safely managed to catch Ouma in his desired hug. “Ah, hello, Ouma…”

“...Geez, you’re stinky,” Ouma accused, stepping away from the embrace and smiling just as coyly as before. “Go take a shower.”

“But I took one this morning!” Saihara retorted back, trying to defend himself.

“I was lying, Saihara-chan. But that’s okay, I wouldn’t mind to see you stripped down~” Ouma sang, causing some workers nearby to look to see what all the commotion was about. Saihara burned crimson, but thankfully Ouma had saved him from entering another pit of embarrassment. “...Nishishi. Just kidding.”

Saihara took it upon his own hand to try and study more into the missing prince’s case.

According to old newspaper archives, stories told by the older workers in the castle and word from his parents (albeit little, but it was still something,) the way the baby was identified was through a particular birthmark placed on the child’s nape, big and noticeable. None of the babies brought forth had this unique birthmark, and even if they did, they were deemed as non matching and were sent away.

The case of the missing child intrigued Saihara as his next case, now that it was being brought to light sixteen years later. Although, this course of action seemed a little… strange, in its wholeity. After all, many years of silence on this case only to be brought up after sixteen years seemed to urk Saihara in the wrong way. Why hadn’t he heard a single word about this case from the royalty of Riverdem? Why had all he heard was through Amami, who didn’t even know everything about it all?

He could possibly ask Ouma, but if Ouma was fifteen, that’d mean he was newly born when the prince was stolen. Regardless, he was the only person in contact he knew from Riverdem: there was some use asking, “Hey, Ouma? Do you know anything about that missing prince from Riverdem?”

“Hmmm… nope,” Ouma replied, pretty clear and sure of himself. “And that’s not a lie. The prince was just as much as a fetus as I was. Silly Saihara-chan -- do you not know how age works?”

“Ah, well, I assumed that was the case. There’s some use asking, at least… maybe you heard about it while you were growing up,” Saihara tried. Ouma’s eyes were blank, but there was a smile still planted wholeheartedly on his face.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, my prince, but I know absolutely nothing about Riverdem’s prince. I think he’s dead as dirt, but I don’t know,” Ouma shrugged, still smiling, this time a little more genuinely looking. “You know, Riverdem treats their royal children like trash anyways. They didn’t have a prince or princess when I grew up, but my mom and dad told me that the reason was because the king kept tapping everyone he could.”

“Oh… so he had lots of affairs, huh?” Saihara rephrased, finding this unsurprising with how bad Riverdem’s reputation was.

“Yup! He got to work a looot, or at least, that’s what people said. Whenever he got a lady pregnant, he just sent her off like he didn’t need her anymore,” Ouma explained, Saihara taking mental notes. “I think the reason this one’s special is ‘cause he’s the only child he and his actual wife bared.”

“Really? Huh… but if the king cares so little about his wife and his other children, why doesn’t he just… bare another child with his actual wife?”

Ouma snickered, “I don’t know all the answers, Saihara-chan.”

“Oh! Right, sorry…,” Saihara apologized, trying his best to give Ouma a thankful smile. “Thank you, Ouma. Your comments are really helpful.”

“Nishishi~ but I might just be lying , though,” Ouma cautioned, waving his finger at the detective prince. Saihara’s smile softened.

“But you might not be,” Saihara pointed out, which caused Ouma’s previously mischievous look to soften considerably. Saihara wondered just what that was, but he chose not to question it as he moved on to a different subject.

Ouma had begun to add more and more odd as the day of the mourning approached with great haste.

Despite him not even being in Riverdem as the date came closer and closer, Ouma seemed to act much more... giddy, as if something about the entire event bothered him. Saihara had attempted to ask him about his strange behavior once or twice, but the retainer only passed it by as some sort of joke of his act. Of course, Saihara could have easily believed this of his retainer, but something about it being only a front felt... off. It bothered Saihara, but it wasn't as if he had any evidence to prove otherwise. Ouma was still, positively, an enigma.

Ouma was not the only one that began to act noticeably odd. His father (and by extension sometimes, his mother) were taking far more trips to Acer than they usually had, which Saihara had eventually caught notice of. He hadn't paid much mind to it at the beginning, but the meetings were becoming more and more frequent that they soon caused Saihara to wonder what on Earth was happening with everyone. He had thought to ask Amami about the entire thing, but he was always busied with things to do for his father -- and thus, he really had nobody else to turn to other than the castle workers.

Some said that his father was simply anxious about Saihara and Kaede's wedding (which would be happening next winter, Saihara realized,) while others were speculating other reasons but with no ground proof. Saihara was quite literally everywhere trying to figure out some sort of clue about the strange way his father and retainer were acting, but in the end, he dug up nothing.

Everything was all so… lost to him, like people were keeping secrets from Saihara that they shouldn’t have been keeping. Saihara was in the dark about everything, and it seemed as if nobody was willing to open up to him -- this caused him to enter something he dubbed the “dead days” of a case. The dead days were simply days where he knew there was nothing he could uncover about a mystery even if he read the same newspaper article front to back, asked the same questions to the same people, and tried his hardest to gather new clues. All he could really do during these dead days was to wait.

He and Ouma talked with each other in Saihara’s room, Ouma sipping on his tea, so sweet that a sugar-loving child would cringe. Saihara was just getting to know Ouma a little more -- not entirely big details, but some general things about himself, like his favorite color, his favorite season (the first one was a tie between purple and white, the second he had no answer for).

In turn, Ouma asked him some questions about himself -- generally of the same theme, with some inquiries hopping into more personal zones, like, “Why haven’t you ever had sex, Saihara-chan?”

Saihara refused to answer that one. That’d be a conversation for another day.

As Ouma carried on about how he had several sex partners in the past, Saihara got to thinking about all the things he was admitting to him -- he never said once (alright, maybe he said it once or twice, but for the most part it was otherwise) that he was lying. It seemed like he had no issue with telling Saihara those little things about him, which made sense -- what use was there to lie about something like his favorite color? It was then that Saihara realized that Ouma’s lies were there for a purpose, in general -- lying was not something he did only out of his own amusement. It was something he did to protect himself, and to hide away from what Saihara assumed was possible blackmail.

Once Ouma had finished up talking about his sex life, Saihara changed the subject, “So, uh… oh, yeah. When’s your birthday?”

“The day I was born,” Ouma’s answer was instantaneous.

“Alright, seriously…,” Saihara chuckled. “I’d feel bad if your birthday was during the winter or spring… that means I missed it completely. You’ve been a good retainer, so missing your birthday is something I don’t want to do.”

Ouma silenced the conversation with a stare at Saihara, and the eyes, once again feeling so familiar, coursed through his body. It was like Ouma was undressing his soul with the gaze, and Saihara felt his anxiety only rise up with the quietness until Ouma finally gave in, “Fiiine. It’s June 21st.”

“June 21st… got it,” Saihara nodded, smiling tenderly. “I’ll make sure to try and get you something you might like.”

Ouma looked away hastily, telling Saihara his present shouldn’t be dumb, a hand covering Ouma’s cheek as he leaned on the armrest of the chair he was sitting in, covering the slight pink.

It was only after Saihara had bid Ouma goodnight that he realize the mourning event would be held on that exact same day.

Chapter Text

Ouma continued to constantly evade Saihara’s questioning, concerning his origin and Riverdem.

The reason why Saihara kept questioning where he came from and what his past was, was because his story kept changing . Whenever he asked him about his siblings, he reacted with a “which one?” When Saihara clarified he wanted to know more about his older brother, Ouma made a face as if there was literally a third arm growing out of the side of his head and replied with a snort, “What are you talking about? I’m the oldest. I have two little brothers and one little sister! Pay attention, Saihara-chan!”

It frustrated the prince -- he was literally back to square one with figuring out who Ouma was, exactly, every single day he thought he had learned more about him. But with each passing hour, certain points in Ouma’s past just kept switching up and becoming something new, and if Saihara had attempted to contradict this with something he had said in the past, he only made a similar excuse of Saihara being deaf and that he so clearly said the newest thing.

Ouma was going to keep his past a secret, and Saihara knew this -- but he kept pursuing the desire to know, for some reason.

It was an extensive search, and there was nobody that knew anything about Ouma that he talked to. The workers he conversed with while he did marksmanship practice, the chef who served him a nice cup of tea -- even Saihara’s own father. Likewise he was deemed untrustworthy by most, but even though he knew little about the person he truly was, Saihara knew there was some sort of reason to put his faith in Ouma.

After all, he had shown genuine care for Saihara here and there. The time at the festival where he had accused a girl who clearly made Saihara uncomfortable of being a prostitute, and the fact he greeted him every morning with a, “Good morning, my prince!, with what Saihara chose to believe was a genuine smile. The fact that he seemed like someone who just couldn’t sit still , as he was always playing with a thread on his uniform or fiddling with strands of his hair, but could when it was just him and Saihara -- it made the latter feel special.

Saihara figured it was because he had saved his life, even though Ouma persistently said he was only doing this “retainer” job because it was fun, and that he could kill Saihara anytime he wanted. Something about Ouma whenever he told him this, told Saihara that killing the man he called his liege was something that was far from being the first thing on his agenda. After all, these first things always seemed to be either “lie” or “make fun.”

Ouma was a person with a range of interests. He seemed to genuinely like shooting guns, but he had showed Saihara how versatile he was with a knife -- pointing out the weak parts of a person on a dummy in the training room, and being able to explain just why they could be weak in that spot. When Ouma pointed to the mannequin’s neck, he thoroughly went on (in an Ouma-way of speaking, of course) to tell Saihara why a sliced throat or being hung was so brutal.

The amount of detail Ouma went in with the suffering and anguish part was a little too… descriptive, but nonetheless, Ouma had taught him something new.

Not only did Ouma seem to be skilled in sneaking and weaponry, he seemed to know a lot about space, too -- past the constellations. Ouma explained things like dark matter and supernovas when Saihara asked about them -- one of the genuine things Ouma admitted to Saihara was that his favorite astral phenomenon thus far was shooting stars.

“Do you believe in those wish things, Ouma?” Saihara asked -- not that he was expecting a genuine or truthful answer, but it was always a curious thing to see how Ouma would react to them.

“Nishishi~ not at all! What kind of dummy would believe in those things? Shooting stars are just meteoroids that fall into the atmosphere. Nothing special,” Ouma replied. He seemed to be much more genuine in his words whenever he talked about either his knowledge in weapons and astronomy. It was like he had a passion for both.

“So not at all, huh…?” Saihara breathed, only slightly caught off guard -- he thought Ouma would believe in those childish things, like superstitions and wishes upon a shooting star, but he seemed to be more mature than that.

“Yup! And that’s not a lie,” Ouma clarified. “But I guess it’s okay for everyone to believe in false hope like that. Don’t you find it hypocritical of them, Saihara-chan?”

“Hm?”

“People will blatantly believe in shooting stars or wishing upon a coin thrown into a fountain,” Ouma blinked, watching the sky above them -- they were once again out on Saihara’s porch, but it wasn’t even near the night time. He seemed to be eyeing the fluffy white clouds, blown into the sky -- Saihara himself childishly traced shapes out of the masses, trying to find some amusement in something he was under every day. “But they won’t believe in anyone else’s lies.”

“Lies?” Saihara murmured, breaking away from his activity, as if the repeated word was a completely new concept to him. “...What do wishes have to do with lies?”

“That’s easy,” Ouma smiled. It was almost melancholic -- Saihara felt it, yet it burned out before he could hold a firm grasp. “People are so willing to lie to themselves , and wish against something that, in the end, doesn’t do anything to contribute to how your life plays out. Yet they hate it when people lie to them -- don’t you think, Saihara-chan~?”

Saihara didn’t answer, and simply let that logic simmer in his head for a little while.

A week before Riverdem’s planned “missing prince mourning,” surprising news came about to Saihara.

His father had instructed him to go to Acer alongside him, Amami and Ouma in tow. It was an entirely impromptu visit, at least on Saihara’s part, but Amami and his father both looked unsurprised at this turn of events. Ouma was... Ouma. Saihara had to share a single carriage with his father, Ouma, and Amami, and words couldn’t even describe how anxious he felt in that enclosed space with three people he knew well. Although he knew Amami like an older brother, and his father was, well, his father, Saihara knew it was Ouma’s presence that was causing the undeniably awkward silence shared on the ride to Acer (his mother chose to stay at Primefield in case an emergency arose). Not that he wished to pin the blame of the awkwardness on anyone, but rather, he understood what Amami and his father might have been thinking.

After all, Amami had threatened Ouma with a gun before, and Saihara’s father was the one who had decided Ouma be executed (and by extension, tortured for information) in front of a public audience. Saihara could only imagine how Ouma felt on the inside, even as he wore that casual smile on his face and spoke no words -- it was unusual to be around a silent, yet smiling, Ouma, and this was only one of many things about the trip that made Saihara uncomfortable.

When the seemingly never-ending ride finally pulled up to Acer Palace, Saihara and company hastily piled out (Saihara assumed Amami and his father felt that awkward tension, too), in order to attend to their needed business. Tojo was at the entrance, like she typically was when Saihara came to Acer palace -- she was truly a dedicated maid, “Welcome to Acer Palace, King and Crown Prince of Primefield. My lord, allow me to escort you to the throne room. My king and my queen have arranged an urgent meeting over the highest quality gingerbread tea.”

“Ah, warmest of welcomes as always, Miss Tojo,” Saihara’s father mused. Tojo bowed politely as a thank you.

“And Prince Saihara…,” Tojo began, but trailed off at the sight of Ouma, her previously polite smile drawing to a slight frown. Saihara saw, out of the corner of his eye, Ouma snicker as if he was teasing the maid -- Tojo kept her composure and continued on with her gentle smile, ignoring him. “...I entrust that you may find your way to Lady Kaede’s room. …Please have your… retainer... accompany you.”

It was one of the first times that Saihara had caught Kiruma being the least bit hesitant. But like a gracious dancer, she simply got back up onto her working feet and escorted Amami and his father away from the scene and towards a different section of the castle. Once they were gone, Ouma and Saihara both heading towards Kaede’s room, Ouma snorted, “That woman smells like dust and dirt. I bet she spends all her time on her knees.”

“H-Hey, don’t say that about Tojo...,” Saihara urged quietly, not wanting to disturb the quiet halls of Acer Palace. Compared to his own, it was much more tranquil and at peace. “She works really hard -- even harder than Amami, according to Amami himself. I heard she can make an excellent dinner in only forty minutes, and she has the ability to clean until there is nearly quite literally no dust left in a room…”

“Oh woooow… she sounds like a mom,” Ouma suggested. Saihara thought for a moment.

“I think she’s still a single woman. It’s probably because of her work that she doesn’t pursue a family… I feel sort of bad for her. She never acts tired, but I think she needs a day off, y’know?” Saihara replied, to which Ouma sighed, bored.

“Why don’t you give me a day off, Saihara-chan? I-I work just as hard as Tojo does! Are… are you saying I d-don’t work hard enough!? T-Then, then fine! I guess you can have stupid smelly Tojo as--”

“That’s enough, Ouma,” Saihara sighed, a sort of tired laugh escaping his mouth in the process. “Look, you and Tojo are… very different people. She works one way, and you work another… but you both get the job done. And your way is fine by me , so… don’t get upset, okay?”

When he heard no response, he turned to look Ouma’s direction, walking beside him, “Ouma?”

Ouma blinked as soon as his name was called out, and he turned, “Hmm? What were we talking about? You starting going into boring-ville, so I stopped paying attention.”

“Sometimes, you’re just impossible… ”

The entrance to Kaede’s bedroom door was upon the two soon, and Saihara politely took it into his own hands to knock rather Ouma. He had specifically instructed him to be on his best behavior in front of Kaede, not as if he wasn’t usually when around nobles -- seeming to shrink up at the mere presence of one, which was odd to Saihara. This was especially prevalent once the missing prince mourning was announced.

Regardless, it was better to be safe than sorry, especially when it came to Ouma. A voice came from the other side of the door, chiming a, “Come in!” Taking this as their permission to go inside, Saihara allowed Ouma to go in force as he held the door for him.

...And just like that, Ouma was disobeying his order, “Whoooa! I haven’t seen this place in a while!”

Saihara slapped his palm into his face, shaking his head, expression showing off mental pain. So, Ouma really did just what he wanted, even under Saihara’s orders… but this was a first. Since Saihara never really asked for a lot from Ouma, the latter would usually follow his commands diligently. He supposed he saw this coming from a mile away, but still -- it could have been any order. Why this one ?

“U-Uhm, excuse me…?” Kaede responded, a polite but worried smile on her face. This was only understandable.

“Oh, so nice to see you again, Princess Akamatsu! Hehe, remember me~?” Ouma chimed. “I saw you on that balcony, y’know… I betcha wanted to see me hung to death, huh?”

“Ouma, please behave,” Saihara tried, once more, an exasperated tone in his voice that he honestly didn’t mean to expose -- he had tried to be more assertive, but the recollection of that day hit him emotionally. He could only remember the waves of emotions, pulling him from one side to another, that day -- it was sort of traumatizing. Surprisingly at this second command Ouma’s previously excited face fell, and he seemed to look genuinely ashamed for the way he acted -- he then stayed quiet, trailing back to Saihara’s side. “I’m sorry about him, Kaede…”

“Oh, it’s fine…,” Kaede insisted, waving her hands as a means of reassuring that the sudden burst upon her was acceptable. The engagement ring that had been given to Acer’s ringmaker was recrafted, as new as ever, shining on Kaede’s right ring finger -- the old one, lost to everyone but Ouma’s knowledge. Saihara’s own engagement ring was returned to him several months back, and he had tried his hardest to start wearing it constantly like he did beforehand, but he was a little more busied with the person who was now his retainer in favor of a little accessory.

However, he had managed to remember putting it on today, since he was visiting Kaede, “Um, so… do you have any idea why my father wanted me to come?”

“I… honestly don’t know. Sorry. My parents are acting weird lately too, as if they’re hiding something from me…,” Kaede agreed with Saihara’s words, and in turn, Saihara agreed right back.

“My parents were acting odd too the past several months. Amami seems busier than lately, and this week seems to be especially hectic. I wonder what’s happening…?”

“...My prince,” Ouma spoke up after remaining silent -- Saihara looked at Ouma, and Kaede did just the same. He took notice that he was looking downwards, as if he was ashamed of himself for disrupting. “I’m sorry for bothering… but may I please have a seat, Princess Akamatsu? If not, I understand.”

“Oh…,” Kaede voiced, looking up at Saihara with a caught off guard look for a moment before glancing back down at Ouma. “Yes, of course… um… you can sit on that sofa right there. Please feel free to read some of the books on my table.”

“Thank you.”

Ouma made a beeline for the sofa, and Saihara was much more confused than he had ever been. Having Ouma request something like to sit down was strange (because he typically did this regardless if he was given permission or not), but having him ask politely was even more strange. Stranger than how he was acting on his way towards Acer -- mainly because he delivered no smiles while he asked this of Kaede.

Saihara and Kaede got themselves comfortable on her bed, the two sitting next to each other, attempting to decipher how their parents were acting as Ouma had taken it upon himself to pick up a book on Kaede’s sofa and read, like he was recommended to. As much as Saihara wanted to focus on trying to figure out just what on Earth was happening right under his nose, he couldn’t help but worry for his retainer’s condition -- he had never witnessed him be so quiet, save for the day he had saved him from execution. And that was the day he was said to die -- so whatever was bothering him had to have been just as intense as death itself.

Kaede, being the observant person she was, noticed Saihara’s worriness for his retainer and gave him an understanding look. They didn’t need words to tell how each other felt -- that was just the bond of their friendship, and how long they’ve really been together. Saihara gave an understanding nod as a sign back, and the two sat together, Ouma at the sofa, in some silence before a knock was delivered to the princess’s room.

“Yes, come in,” Kaede called out in permission, and who else to enter but Kirumi Tojo herself -- except, she looked a little different than herself, like she had lost her composure only several minutes ago. Although she could typically handle herself and her emotions well, the two could immediately recognize something had happened. Ouma hadn’t turned his head away from the book.

“A-Ah… Lady Akamatsu… Lord Saihara. Your fathers have informed me to deliver some… erm… news,” Tojo seemed to be struggling to find words -- another rare thing for her. She always seemed to have something to say, what what exactly was causing her to be so… out of it? Everyone seemed to be acting so out of character today, that it almost caused Saihara a headache.

“Oh? Um… then please tell us, Tojo,” Kaede replied, a bit of nerves in her tone from the sound of Tojo’s own -- there was obviously something huge waiting to be said, and Tojo was trying her hardest to put it in words that he and Kaede would… understand? Be calm with? Just what was this…? Why was everything so…

“Well… ah… I have been requested to tell you two that… our kingdom will also be holding a mourning event for the missing prince.”

Kaede and Saihara immediately turned to each other, a quizzicale expression painted on both of their faces. Kaede replied, “W-Why would we do that…? The mourning is for Riverdem’s prince.”

“N-No… ah… the mourning is… for our prince, Lady Akamatsu.”

His fingers trace the edges of the book page. His eyes, devoid of color, devoid of its usual light, devoid of what he had thought was his own mischievousness under the reprimand of the young man he had labeled, for the longest time, as his prince. They're focused not on the inked words beneath his placid palm, but the array of thoughts in his head -- the pound it was creating, ringing his ears. The raise of his heartbeat, drumming against the thing of an empty heart most believed he had. This was exactly why he thought of Saihara as his prince, and would for an eternity -- he believed there was flesh and blood there. That more was happening than just a catalogue of lies and jokes and fronts. 

I wish I could bleed to death right here… it’d be better than all of these terrible emotions , he thinks to himself, but he dares not even mutter this. He can hear Tojo talking, and even moreso, he can practically feel the shock radiating off of that blonde bitch and his prince.

Ah…

Who was he kidding. That ring, on that finger, proved many miles more of evidence of his prince’s love. The one that he dreamed about, given to…

Oh. Well. All of it didn’t matter anyways. His prince was never his, and he was never his prince’s.

He truly was the largest liar in history -- even to himself.

Chapter Text

The kingdoms went into an absolute frenzy. And it was difficult to over exaggerate this -- everyone seemed to be talking about it.

Not without a good reason, of course. Acer had just claimed that Riverdem was lying to the public only to gain economical attention, and there really was never a lost prince to their name -- it was a rumor. Plus, there was absolutely zero evidence the kingdom’s queen had ever gave birth -- authorities came to try and settle this wild case which sparked controversy even on the other side of the country. There were no birth stretch marks on the queen’s stomach, but that was the extent of the information that they were able to collect without Riverdem’s king growing increasingly angry at everything.

Riverdem was known for its terrible crime and great sources of meat, but it was also known for another thing -- war. Although wars were somewhat a thing of the past, Riverdem’s hostility was unmatched when it came to battle -- they did not think tactically, rather, they were all bones and brute force. They played unfairly, and were savage in their battle “tactics” -- meaning, once an enemy was down, a man was allowed to take his weapon and use it against more of their opposing enemy, and so forth. It had been, thankfully, several decades since the last war with Riverdem, but the results of it were so severe, they tumbled down another kingdom into nonexistence.

Acer accusing Riverdem of advertising a mourning for a prince they never had could be enough to spark another bloody war, something that, Saihara learned, they were preparing for if it reached that point.

All the things that had flown under the prince’s nose unknowingly were now getting exposed at full force, and it left him in a state of absolute shock and, more so, confusion. Why did Acer care if Riverdem was holding a mourning for their prince…? No, no, wait -- it was Acer’s prince, according to what Tojo had explained. And even after the maid trying her best to string out the story, Saihara still needed to find some answers. Hastily he, Ouma, Amami and his father returned to their castle in order to sort out the alliance papers if Riverdem claimed war against them -- once things had calmed down a bit for them, Saihara’s father took it into his own hands to explain the situation to his son.

“You see, Shuuichi,” He began, sitting comfortably in his seat -- Saihara sat directly across from him, different papers scattered in front of the both of them as Ouma also seated himself diligently, having been silent his entire way here up until this point. This still concerned Saihara, but finding out what all of this meant was much more important right now. “I began to look into this ‘missing prince’ case back when I heard word of it several months ago, when your retainer was still committing crimes. I had begun to think of it, as Kaede’s own father had made a mention of the situation, but he did not divulge further into the topic. You could say I adopted a little of your own detective skills, hm, son?”

“Ah, y-yeah…,” Saihara humbly smiled, feeling pride for his father. It was usually a son learning from his father, but it seemed to be the opposite in this case.

“Anywho, I was far too busied with you as a child to be concerned for Riverdem’s antics. As a young king, my attention was on what mattered to me the most -- Primefield, and my family. So when I had heard of Riverdem’s kidnapped newborn the next year, I paid small mind. I only sent my regards and well wishes for them to be able to successfully find their missing prince…” Saihara’s father fumbled with more papers as he spoke. “But according to Amami, and furthermore, Kaede’s parents, a ransom note had been sent specifically to the king and queen. They paid no mind to it and continued to feed off of the attention and economical success the case was bringing. How Amami knew was beyond me, but surprisingly, Kaede’s father knew much…

“I begun to grow suspicious of Acer and it’s place in this whole controversy. I would assume they would be a little more compassionate and thoughtful now that you and Kaede have grown into fine young royalty, but they were only distant about the situation. I had finally managed to pry the truth out of them -- an assertive trait I had learned from my one and only son,” Saihara’s father explained further, glancing at Ouma for a second, then back at Saihara, who couldn’t help but smile complacently. “...According to Kaede’s parents, they were involved in the missing prince case.”

“Involved…? How so?” Saihara asked involuntarily, indulged and curious.

“I’m sure Tojo had tried her best to explain this with her limited knowledge. We did not wish for this information to spread too far, but I trust in you and your retainer, Shuuichi,” Saihara’s father took in an anticipating yet tired breath, exhaling slowly. “...It turns out, the missing prince is indeed Acer’s prince.”

“W-What? But that… how is that possible? Kaede doesn’t have a brother...,” Saihara murmured, more out of his own thoughts rather as a response. Saihara’s father continued swiftly.

“Please do not think any less of Acer’s queen and king for this, son, as we were all fairly young those fifteen or so years ago. We were less wise, and were passed our crowns with great haste…” When Saihara’s father was done making this clear, he continued. “Now. June 21st will mark the sixteenth birthday of the missing prince -- thus, Riverdem has taken it upon themselves to hold a mourning ceremony, in regards to him being missing for these past years. You see… a little time after Kaede was born, her parents had intercourse which led to Kaede’s mother being impregnated by accident. Although killing the baby in the womb was an available option, Kaede’s mother has always had a fragile health, and it would be dangerous if she were to consume the poisonous pills. That was when they and Riverdem’s king and queen had decided to make a fair exchange -- the word of the baby was kept to Kaede’s parents, but Riverdem had somehow gotten that information out of them.

“They struck a deal, telling them it was a win-win situation. Not only would they rid the baby of their hands, but Riverdem would receive more economical success. The plan went like so: Kaede’s mother would feign a terrible illness that would render her immobile and bedridden for nine months. This was to prevent anyone from seeing her pregnancy. Once the baby was born, Riverdem’s king and queen would adopt the child and take it as their own. It didn’t take too much hesitation to agree to this,” Saihara’s father trailed off, thinking a little more intently before continuing. “...But what Acer’s king and queen was unaware of was how Riverdem treated their royal children, and how corrupt they truly were. Of course, they had heard of the bad rumors of the kingdom, but their king and queen seemed like genuine, nice people… and not only this, but their queen is a victim of infertility.”

“Infertility…” Saihara tested the word on his own tongue. All of this was beginning to make more and more sense -- Amami’s business, his father’s visits to Acer…

“Indeed. I was quite surprised as well. However, when the child was born, and the king sent his personal, trusted hitman and assistant to deliver the child safely back to the palace… she disappeared, along with the child. He has been missing ever since. The reason Acer had not done anything for it was because of the queen’s fear of shaming the kingdom… but with my convincing, as well as her husbands, we were able to get her comfortable with it,” Saihara’s father concluded, as he reached out to take a sip of his tea, parched after having to explain the whole thing. The room was silent until he continued explaining. “This true story is only for a selected group of individuals. The only reason to why I am allowing your retainer to hear this as well is only so your possible orders would make clearer sense, so the odd reason may not hinder his work. Do you understand?”

The question was directed to Ouma, who was politely silent the entire time. His face, devoid of emotion, nodded obediently. Saihara’s father continued to eye him suspiciously before nodding at his son, “...Alright. The public will be told a bit of an altered tale with mostly true facts: including that Riverdem was making false claims and that the child was truly their own. It’s a lot of controversial things to go over, especially with who has the rights of the child -- I, personally, think that he is still a prince of Acer, but it is anyone’s opinion. Ah, and with that… you are free to go. Please be careful -- I would advise you to keep your retainer around. Once the public knows we are at alliance with Acer if Riverdem were to claim war, no doubt would there be hostility towards us. I trust in your retainer to protect you. Thank you for listening.”

When Saihara returned to his room with Ouma, he was, too, in an utter frenzy. Everything was cleared out, and everything made sense -- well, most everything at least. There were still parts to which was a mystery, like who had stolen the missing prince, where he was now, if he was dead… it was all just one enigma leading to another, and Saihara loved it. Ouma seemed to be on the opposite spectrum.

“Geeeez, all of this prince stuff is so boring ,” Ouma spat, seeming more interested in the condition of his nails as Saihara had finished up explaining some of his theories to where the prince was and who he was. It had already been a couple of days, and Acer and Riverdem were preparing for both of their mournings. Riverdem was still sticking with the paper boat and the candle, whilst Acer chose a more flashy way of signalling the missing prince -- via flying lanterns. However, tensions were still high between both kingdoms, and Primefield was in the middle of all of this.

Saihara gave him a quizzical look, surprised that he wasn’t that interested in the whole thing -- mainly because it seemed like something Ouma would like to know more about, but then again, this was only Saihara assuming, “You don’t find this interesting? ...At all?”

“Nope! I just said it was boring, and that isn’t a lie,” Ouma replied, brushing the topic off like dust on his shoulder. “All you do is yap your mouth about this stupid prince.”

“Hey, don’t say that, Ouma. He’s been missing for nearly sixteen years, and both kingdoms seem to miss him. ...Even if it took sixteen years,” Saihara mumbled.

“Seee? It’s all about attention and money. That’s the shitty thing about royals. All they care about is how much cash they can stuff in their pockets,” Ouma said swiftly, falling back onto the sofa he had been sitting on, pulling out his dagger and shining it against the room’s light. “You’re different though, Saihara-chan, and that’s why I haven’t murdered you yet.”

“Um… thank you?” Saihara chuckled nervously, unsure if he should have been afraid or not. “Not all royals think like that… but I agree, money is one of the biggest drives of a kingdom. It’s only so that they can support their citizens. Acer’s using all the money they’re getting right now to try and host that mourning event, in such a rush, too.”

“...Why are we still talking about this? I’m bored, Saihara-chan. Let’s play,” Ouma complained, pulling his arm back, knife in hand, and throwing it with as much force as he could laying down up into the air. It hit the hard material of the ceiling, and fell gracefully onto the marble flooring. “Ughhh. So boooored.”

“Well… I guess I do need some sort of break. I guess I have been too busy thinking about all of this,” Saihara complied, watching Ouma get up and walk towards his fallen knife, polishing it with his shirt fabric. “What do you want to do?”

“Hmmm… I know. Let’s play the knife game,” Ouma chimed, skipping back towards the sofa and sitting down, spreading his hand out onto the table in front of him. “You try and hitting the knife in the spaces between your fingers. You win if you can get through the whole song without cutting yourself. Wanna play?”

“What? No, Ouma, let’s not do that,” Saihara urged, a worried expression on his face. “Can’t we just take a walk or something? I haven’t gotten fresh air in a while…”

“Awww, but that sounds so boring…,” Ouma complained back as a response, while Saihara gave him a deadpan expression. A few moments of silence, until Ouma tsked. “Fine… but don’t expect me to be with you the whole time. If you go ahead even a little, I might just disappear~”

A walk outside was… nice. After being cooped up for so long, handling what he deemed necessary as a detective and a prince, a relaxing walk in the outskirts of the kingdom was just what he felt like he needed. The outer area of Primefield was filled with hills of flowers, and a bit further over was a forest which separated Primefield and Acer by a several miles. Worn-out paths exited and entered the kingdom in various different spots -- one going in the direction of Acer, another to northern kingdoms, etc.

Previously he had taken walks with Amami, and even Kaede, but these were rare times when the both parties had some free time. Amami, although he claimed to love the outdoors and traveling, had to be near the castle as much as possible in case his father had orders for him -- Kaede was, well, a princess. She had just as many duties as Saihara had, and mayhaps even more for being a woman. Although Saihara could have taken these walks by himself, he had deemed it too dangerous for a royal member to be walking around alone.

Ouma being there was the reassurance in company, even if he was acting a little harsh that day. Saihara stirred up some small talk, with Ouma’s lies strung between here and there and him laughing at Saihara’s “idiocy.” They had once again returned to Ouma’s two passions -- astrology and weaponry -- with some conversation going on for about fifteen minutes.

“You never seemed like the type to like astrology… I could understand your fascination and knowledge with weapons, considering you used to be a phantom thief, but I couldn’t have been able to guess you were interested in space,” Saihara mused, soaking in a little of the forest breath. “How’d you get interested in it?”

“Huh? What are you talking about? I’ve been looking at the sky ever since I could open my eyes. Why aren’t you interested in it?” Ouma asked back. Saihara hummed.

“I guess I might’ve been a little too sheltered in my upbringing, ahah… I always thought space was interesting in its own regard, but I’ve always been more interested in solving mysteries and reading,” Saihara responded, shrugging as Ouma snorted.

“Nishishi~ well, I won’t complain! After all, you’re my favorite detective. I always wanted to meet you when I was a phantom thief,” Ouma chimed, which caught Saihara’s attention.

“My attention?”

“Yup! I’ve always dreamed the dashing detective prince himself, Shuuichi Saihara, would pursue me~” Ouma sang with no particular melody, until he giggled. “...Nah, not really. You’re still an amateur detective. You couldn’t even catch me while I was still stealing!”

“Well… you’re right,” Saihara admitted, sighing under his breath. “By the way… you seem to know a lot about weapons, and you’ve said that you’ve killed lots of people… but why did you hesitate when--”

“Saihara!” Ouma yelled, suddenly, interrupting him as he roughly pushed him out of the way -- a throwing knife had just barely sliced the air between him and a strand of hair. The prince tumbled to the ground with a hard tackle by his retainer, Ouma now on top of him, but the retainer had no hesitation or moment to think -- he quickly rolled off and showed his back off, protecting Saihara like a shield on his side. “Arh!”

“O-Ouma--!?” Saihara stuttered. There seemed to be a moment’s stop in the sudden chaos, but Ouma was still in the rush, staggering to his feet as he pulled out his own revolver, kicking Saihara in the shin as he did so.

“Shit… stand up! Stay behind me!” Ouma commanded, voice shaky as more throwing knives were tossed Saihara’s way -- the prince, still in a flurry on the ground. Ouma stuck his leg right in front of Saihara’s face at the right time, the throwing knife finding a home into his thigh. “Augh! S-Stand up!”

There was no time anymore to do anything but listen to Ouma’s words as Saihara rushed to his feet -- a knife barely grazed his finger as he did so, leaving a cut. He said no words of complaint, as his eyes were on the throwing knife that had now been implemented in Ouma’s back. His retainer shot the revolver twice -- one into the forest to their right, the other to their left.

“I’ll kill you! Come on and throw more of your knives!” Ouma taunted, the revolver in his shaky palm as his leg gave out more and more over the knife wedged into his thigh. Silence, other than the echo of his gunshots, still rolling away from the scene. There was no movement, nor was there any words -- Ouma still held his gun protectively, an arm behind him to shield Saihara further.

Ouma was the bravest person Saihara knew in those moments.

There was a rustle in the righthand shrubbery, and Ouma instinctively pointed the gun at it, prepared to shoot -- a hooded figure sauntered out, and Saihara saw him just about click the revolver to fire as the figure made its way to the middle of the trail, several feet in front of them. They revealed their hood, and what Saihara saw surprised him -- a woman, who looked older than the both of them, with long, brown hair tied in childish-looking pigtails, hiding in her cloak. Her eyes were a piercing red, and a beauty mark found itself just below her left eye.

Ouma immediately dropped his protective stance, as the woman chuckled, “...You’ve learned well.”

Saihara couldn’t see it, but he could practically feel the shock radiating from Ouma’s being as he stuttered out one word.

“M...Mom?”

Chapter Text

Thankfully, Ouma’s mother had not leave her son with two wounds that she had personally inflicted upon him.

You could imagine how confused Saihara was when Ouma had let his guard down in front of the assassin, and how even more confused he was when Ouma had stuttered out the world “Mom?” like the lady in front of him was his actual mother. When he did so, he staggered towards her with a sniff, and let out the biggest cry (Saihara, at this point, couldn’t decipher whether he was acting this cry or not,) he had ever seen him use -- falling into her arms and bowling. Saihara expected her to wrap her arms around him, comforting the injured boy, but her face only drew an annoyed blank, “Get off of me, Kokichi.”

“B-But you were so cruuuuuuel! I can’t believe y-you’d do this!” Ouma cried even harder, until, finally, the woman pried him off. Ouma seemed to huff with exhaustion. “Fine…! I-I guess you just… don’t love me as a son…”

“Stop. Now sit down and I’ll take care of your wounds,” The assassin instructed, to which Ouma obediently nodded -- she looked up at the prince she oh-so-casually had tried to murder several minutes ago. “Prince Saihara. ...Would you help me?”

Saihara was still in a small daze with all the events happening, but the fact that Ouma was to be treated for the attack brought him back to sweet, savory reality -- he nodded quickly. The assassin instructed him to keep Ouma still or distract him as he was extremely jumpy in these sort of painful situations -- ripping the knife out of his thigh and back was going to hurt, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it other than trying to distract him from the pain. Ouma focused on Saihara’s poor attempts at making simple jokes and even laughed at them -- which was enough for him to endure the removal of his mother’s knives.

“Oh… I never caught your name, by the way,” Saihara reminded, watching the assassin carry out a small medicinal package out of the cloak she was wearing. It was now laid out on the floor, lifeless of a body to consume. The assassin glanced his way, but only for a second.

“So it seems,” She responded, and was silent after -- which meant she either didn’t know what he wanted her to do right after, or, more likely, didn’t necessarily care if he knew her name or not. The reason was quite obvious to the detective -- he was royalty, she was an assassin, and just like her son, if Saihara were to catch any clue of her (but especially her name) an execution was sure to take place.

“Awww, don’t be so boring, Harumaki ~” Ouma sang, teasingly, as Harumaki let her obedience hand whack her son in the neck. He yelped. “Ow!”

“I thought I taught you not to say that,” Harumaki(?) responded coldly. Saihara could feel her desire to look at him to find any clue of him being satisfied with just a name, but Saihara was still interested in who she really was -- it sounded more like a nickname. She mumbled something under her breath as Ouma giggled.

“Nishishi~ maybe you should stop your precious Momota-san --” And before he had the ability of finishing, at the sound of that name, Harumaki slapped his neck once more. “Ow! That one hurt!”

“You idiot. You’re going to get me and your father killed if you don’t be quiet ,” Harumaki snapped back, eyeing Saihara for a second as she whispered harshly into Ouma’s ear something inaudible to the prince. This was happening all in front of Saihara, who wore a clueless expression.

“But you can trust Saihara-chan! After all, we’re married!” Ouma sang, quickly grabbing one of Saihara’s hands -- the one with his engagement ring stuck on it -- and holding it up for Harumaki. “See?”

“I know that’s his engagement ring to Akamatsu, Kokichi. Your lies can deceive other people, but not me,” The woman sighed, beginning to clean up Ouma’s wound. “...But you did take those hits for Prince Saihara with no hesitation. You were fired. I hardly see such enthusiasm for another person from you.”

“It’s because Saihara-chan’s a puny little coward that doesn’t know how to protect himself!” Ouma replied with haste, a smile on his face as Harumaki wiped away the blood pouring out of the open wound. “He’s been nice to me, sooo I only figured it’d be fine if I helped him out… just this once.”

“Cut your lying tongue down. There was no time to ‘figure’ anything with that attack,” Harumaki fired back, and Saihara saw the defeat in one of Ouma’s eyes. “...You surprised me with your reflex, though, Kokichi. I had thought you’d forget to bare off less vital parts of your body when protecting someone.”

“Nishishi~ awww, you underestimated me. How stupid of you,” Ouma replied sharply, and Saihara flinched. It was a little painful to see someone get the pointed end of Ouma’s dangerous tongue, but Harumaki showed no signs of inflicted injury.

“Nonsense. You still have a lot to learn, especially with a gun. Your aim was off. You shot aimlessly.” Harumaki grabbed a roll of gauze. “But I suppose the latter isn’t too bad. ...The cowardly assassins would flee at the sound of a gun.”

“Uwah, complimented by none other than Maki Harukawa herself!” Ouma feigned excitement with an oddly straight face as he said that, which made Saihara feel uncomfortable. Maki Harukawa, huh? Saihara felt it was best to be left out of this conversation and only observe, but Ouma, being Ouma, dragged him in. “Saihara-chan, this is my mom, Maki Harukawa, by the way!”

Saihara introduced himself properly to the woman that Ouma claimed was his mom, and Harukawa made a silent nod of agreement. She didn’t seem like much of a talker in the first place -- her mouth drew a thin line that ended only thinner, in contrast to Ouma’s usually smiley resting face. The two looked nothing alike, as Ouma’s hair and eyes were noticeable shades of purple while Harukawa was all brown and red -- Saihara assumed Ouma’s father would hold a better resemblance to him. When Harukawa dressed his thigh wound properly, she glanced at the wound in Ouma’s back before asking, “Can you walk?”

“Mmm… I dunno. Even if I could, I don’t want to,” Ouma replied like a child. Harukawa gave him a glare that would’ve pinned Saihara into the void if it was directed towards him, but Saihara shook out an open hand.

“Um, don’t worry, Harukawa… I’ll carry him if he needs it.”

It turned out Ouma didn’t really need to be carried, but Saihara didn’t mind lifting him into a piggyback and carrying him the direction that Maki instructed they’d be going. Ouma was lightweight like Saihara’d expect him to be -- he seemed fragile, at least on the outside and physically, but Saihara was still in the dark about how he felt on the inside.

Regardless carrying him to their next destination wasn’t the worse thing. Ouma seemed caught off guard when Saihara offered to carry him, but seemed excited to be “manhandled” by a prince, causing the detective to flush. Even though Saihara had no idea where Harukawa was taking them, it seemed as if Ouma trusted her -- and if Ouma trusted her, somehow, Saihara was sure it’d be fine. It was like his perspective of Ouma completely changed after that day -- the fact that Ouma didn’t have to think twice about protecting him was…

It was something else.

Ouma seemed to entrust Saihara with more and more of his weight, leaning more casually into his back as the walk continued. There was a trust, there, as it was the prime opportunity for Ouma to kill him if he Ouma had so threatened to do to him in the past, but instead of a knife meeting his nape… he felt Ouma’s hot breath, and the bond the two shared as he allowed himself to lean on one of his shoulders, and tilt onto Saihara’s neck. It felt strangely nice knowing there was someone he could trust in that fashion.

The walk towards their destination was quick -- perhaps a little too much so for Saihara’s tastes -- as Harukawa led them down an estranged pathway, a faint tiredness of the grass below them stemming out from the usual trail. It could be seen if one looked twice, but not once. With some traversing through the heavy foliage, the three eventually came up to a clearing, where a single wooden cabin lay. There was a cleared dirt circle perimetering the base of the house; a stove was placed some ways away, along with some barrels that Saihara weren’t sure were filled or not. He had no time to check, as Harukawa led Saihara and Ouma through the front door, past a couple of creaky steps.

“Hey, Harumaki! You’re back! I made some lun--” An energetic, masculine voice rang, and as Saihara trailed in with Ouma on his back behind the girl, a man appeared in the hallway with a large tray of what looked to be stewed liver and onions. His previous happy and proud face fell when he saw Saihara carrying Ouma on his back. “Oh. ...You didn’t tell me we were going to have company! I would’ve made more stew!”

“I don’t think Ouma will be eating,” Harukawa responded to the other, expecting some sort of witty remark from Ouma, but being greeting with silence. All three individuals took a look at Ouma behind him, Saihara have the most trouble considering he was the one holding him. Harukawa rounded Saihara and took one of Ouma’s hands, feeling for a pulse. “...He’s just sleeping.”

Saihara released a pent-up breath he had no idea he was even holding. He had believed for a moment Ouma to be dead, which would have probably been the absolute worst news you could give him at the moment -- if Ouma had died, then that’d mean he’d pretty much died protecting Saihara from Harukawa’s attack… Saihara shook the thought out of his head, not trying to mind it. Ouma wasn’t dead. There was nothing to worry about.

A bit of settling Ouma down onto a bed and leaving Maki to properly handle his back wound, Saihara was led to what looked to be a beaten up dining room -- the man, who he was introduced to as Kaito Momoto’s stew still sitting, piping hot and ready to eat. Momota smiled at Saihara in a friendly matter as they took seats across from each other at the round table for four, “So! You’re this famous detective prince that everyone’s been raving about for… how long has it been? Two? Three years?”

“Ah… yeah, that’d be me,” Saihara replied, a nervous smile on his face. Even though Harukawa was ten times more intimidating than Momota, he still felt like an anxious wreck talking to him -- why, was another enigma that he would have to solve at a later time. “And, um, you’re Ouma’s father, right?”

“Spot on, kid!” Momota gave a supportive thumbs up, as if praising him for the obvious. Momota, like Saihara expected, looked more like Ouma than Maki did -- his eyes and hair were both shades of purple, which might have explained Ouma’s own hair color. His retainer’s were a darker shade of the color, so perhaps a mix of genes…? Momota’s hair was tossed into a wild, sort of impossible-seeming do -- there was a bit of stubble and beard that poked from the base of his chin, but there was nothing more of facial hair to be found. He looked to be holding onto his youthful spirit, yet, age seemed to show through small creases around his eyes -- perhaps he was around his early or mid thirties at the least.

“Ah, I see…,” Saihara muttered as a response, but wasn’t sure how to continue from there -- even though he was trained in this, talking to people was still hard. It was easy to converse if he had some sort of support by his side, be it acquaintanceship with the person he was talking to or even someone he knew with him to be his buoy -- he had neither of these things on him. Thankfully, Momota was still interested in talking to him, and had plenty to converse about.

“My son’s been working for you for… nine months now? Hah, you could’ve had a baby in that amount of time!” Momota joked, causing Saihara to flush a shade of red. If Momota noticed this, he paid no mind and continued. “We haven’t heard from our little man since. Seems like he’s been too busy to pay his parents a visit.”

“I-Is that why Harukawa attacked us?” Saihara stuttered at the thought of Ouma’s mom going after him just because he had been taking Ouma’s attention away from them. Was it really his fault? Momota let out a chuckle.

“Nah. Harumaki doesn’t try to kill people unless it’s in the job description,” Momota explained casually, getting up from his chair and heading over to a cabinet in the kitchen. The dining table was centered right in the middle of it. “So when she told me she was targeting you, I tried to get her to rethink it. It turns out she didn’t want to murder you at all -- it was going to be a win-win situation for her end. She planned on attacking you guys since she accepted the job, just to test Kokichi’s skill as a protector of you. I thought it was a little harsh, ‘cause, y’know, one of you could've gotten killed… but at least you came out unscathed, Milord!”

“Y-Yes, well… what about Ouma? Is he going to be fine?” Saihara was still concerned for Ouma’s health -- after all, the throwing knives that Maki had aimed at him seemed to be hurled at a killing-intent force. It certainly didn’t sound pretty when he heard the two knives slam into Ouma’s body.

“From what I saw, I think so. Harumaki’s gone through worse. I’m surprised she hasn’t lost a limb yet, but I’m not complaining about a fully-intact Harumaki!” Momota laughed at his own comment, causing Saihara to chuckle back politely. Just as he said this while taking out a paper plate, Harukawa entered the room.

“What about me being fully-intact?” Harukawa asked, a straight expression on her face, always an indication that she wasn’t in the mood to be entertained by a joke. It made Saihara question the relationship status she and Momota shared -- if Ouma was their kid, then that would make them his mother and father. But what was their relationship? They seemed to be the sort of people that would only get annoyed at each other’s antics, especially Harukawa, with what Saihara had observed so far.

“Nothing. Just talking about your work,” Momota explained flimsily, sitting back down onto his chair and reaching out to the spoon in the stew for a large helping of his own work. “C’mon, Harumaki! Let’s eat.”

Harukawa seemed to survey whether or not she would eat in her head, but as she took her seat in a chair, Saihara assumed that Momota had convinced her.

Another thing he noticed about their behavior was the fact that Momota called her Harumaki -- whilst when Ouma called her that, she reprimanded him with an unhesitating hand. Ouma had said something about Momota beforehand, and now that Saihara knew who Momota was, it made more sense. Ouma had teased Harukawa by calling him her "precious Momota", which meant they probably had some sort of close relationship, but not one in which Saihara could easily figure out. Why he was trying to figure out their relationship as two parents was unclear to the prince, but it was a good distraction from the knowledge that he was alone with the two people Ouma called his parents.

It made him feel... nervous, like he himself was being surveyed and tested under the watchful eye of Harukawa, at the very least. Momota seemed more invested in investigating his plate of stew (with his own spoon, scooping up a heart-full and shoving it into his mouth), while Harukawa gathered a plate of her own from the pantry and settled down, gathering food for herself. Momota went on to continue his own interpretation of Harukawa's job, and, surprisingly, Harukawa held no objections throughout the whole explanation -- meaning either Momota was getting this all correct, or she had the ability of tolerating at least Momota's words. Saihara had no doubt that if Ouma were to explain his mother's job in his own way, Harukawa'd have to excuse her and her son into another room for another reprimendation.

It turned out some man that was looking for an assassin in the undergrounds of Riverdem, where the two (and by extent, Ouma) were from, and asked Harukawa for her help. After explaining his grand scheme (which, really wasn't grand at all -- it was actually a dumb plan if you thought it out thoroughly and logically, but Harukawa didn't complain about the reward she'd be getting if the deed was done), Harukawa accepted the job with all the intention of disobeying her enlister's words. "I don't go after the royals," Harukawa put it simply. "It's too difficult to get away with."

If Harukawa had known this, then why had she not told Ouma? Why had Ouma attempted to kill him, if Harukawa had warned him that murdering a royal would be far too difficult to carry out? Without much thought, he voiced these concerns to his parents, coming out as, "If Ouma knew that, then why did he try to kill me?"

Momota and Harukawa gave a wary glance at each other, before Momota's expression softened into something that Saihara could only categorize as a 'what can you do?' sort of look, "Well, Ouma's sorta always been his own free spirit. He chases what he believes in, and what he wants to achieve!"

"I think you pushed that on him too harshly," Harukawa bluntly said back, which caused Momota to flinch.

"Hey! If he wanted to pursue his dreams, then I wouldn't want to stop him... after all, he learned from the best," Momota gave a wink towards Harukawa, and Saihara swore she almost attacked him right there, but instead resisted with a grasp of her spoon, her face red. Momota turned back towards Saihara, who already had questions.

"Pursue his dreams?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Momota gave a smile.

"Our boy's been smitten with you since he first saw you!"

(This time, Harukawa did attack him.)

Chapter Text

Even if Harukawa told him to disregard what Momota had said as another one of his gentle, teasing jokes, Saihara couldn’t help but hold a feeling of hope.

A little light of hope inside a mass amount of confusion, shock, embarrassment… a mountain of different feelings that could have conspired from hearing that Ouma was “smitten” with him, according to his own father’s words. It was like a tug of a rope on his wrist, urging him one way -- a moment of happiness, a moment of surprise, a moment of relief . The other was urging him with every other rational emotion -- how ridiculous it was, the disbelief, the disgust . The disgust that would be painted on his face, yet was defeated by the fact that he felt none of it for the idea of Ouma being attracted to him --

Saihara excused himself to see Ouma as Harukawa and Momota returned to lunch (he tried not to acknowledge the glare Harukawa was burning into Momota’s skin as he left the room). He needed a moment to think, alone yet not alone at all -- he wanted to be in the same room as Ouma, as strange and odd as that would sound if he were to explain it. Perhaps it was the fact that Ouma was so difficult to figure out that it made his own issues easier to organize and sort. After all, there was a much bigger mystery that needed to be solved.

But it wasn’t his job to deal with mysteries. He was a prince -- it was all laid out in front of him. His life, his choices, his ideals, his future, and yet, he pursued these little things that would complicate him to a point where he chose to become confused, stressed, and pulled in all these different directions. Was he a masochist? No… no. As much as it pained him sometimes to solve mysteries, the euphoria was in the search for the truth -- the plans to get to what was golden. What was golden about Ouma was still hidden, and Saihara was on the prowl to find it ever since day one.

Entering the small bedroom (making sure that the door creaked the least, so Ouma could rest properly), he was hit in the face with the old scent of the room -- this hadn’t have been Ouma’s family’s house. It was in the area between Acer and Primefield after all, and it seemed all they were here for was for Harukawa’s job -- this must have been a rented old cabin as a result. Afternoon lights streamed into the room, not yet tainted with orange -- still youthful in its sun, and it all trickled onto both the floors and onto the bed, and, as a result, Ouma.

He had been turned on his stomach as a result of his injury, head turned to face the wall he was furthest too -- his eyes, closed and in a slumber that Saihara had only witnessed from time to time. They did not sleep together (why would they do that…?), nor did Saihara ever visit him late at night (sometimes Ouma did to him , however), so seeing the usually mischievous and outgoing boy in a state of peace such as slumber was a rare treat for his eyes. It was nearly entrancing, like the scene had all come out of a painting that would decorate his palace’s ballroom -- a sleeping warrior recovering from battle scars, and the soft rays of the sun blanketing him with a warm feeling.

At least, this is what Saihara thought Ouma was feeling. He took a seat on a chair propped directly next to the bed he was on, likely where Harukawa sat as she tended to the wound on his back -- wrapped around his entire chest, it looked to be, as some blood had seeped through the tight bondage of the gauze, it looked. Saihara was sure he would be fine, but he was still concerned. Ouma’s usual white shirt had been tossed hurriedly onto a stand of the bed -- stained in a brilliant crimson of his blood. There were several clothes lazily planted to the floor beneath him, but for the most part, it seemed the healing was relatively clean.

It was involuntary that he touched the bandage on his back, right at the center in which the blood stained the darkest -- it would be the place where he was hit directly with the knife. And Saihara remembered. He remembered the genuine panic in Ouma’s voice, the seriousness of his tone when he was told to stand up -- how fast his reflexes were with shielding him with his back, rather fatefully at his front. Saihara knew he would feel even more terrible if he took a knife to the stomach or, even worse so, the chest -- he was thankful that Harukawa had taught him well.

Regardless of how trained he was in protecting and combat, he still got injured -- and all for the sake of Saihara. Yes , it was his job. Yes , it was the reason he was even around Saihara. But Saihara had never thought it would come so suddenly, something that he would not be prepared for -- he was not prepared for the potential loss of Ouma. He just was not -- there was still so much he had yet to figure out, so much that was a mystery to him, so much he wanted to get his hands on and feel proud that he did -- because he worked for it. Because he was the one who wanted to figure out the young phantom thief known as Kokichi Ouma.

Saihara realized he could have lost Ouma that day, and he hadn’t even cherished every moment he had with him. He blamed himself -- blamed that he couldn’t be a little more patient, a little more inquisitive. If Ouma would have died that day, there would be only a million more questions left unanswered, along with the fact that -- and this realization was what caused Saihara to try and hold back tears -- he would have died protecting him .

Ouma seemed to care more about Saihara’s safety than he initially thought.

The prince’s gentle touch of just one finger turned into his whole palm, letting it melt as he moved his hand over the crevices of the bandage -- he was sucked in, and it took several moments to realize that what he was doing was a bit strange. Retracting his arm, he then drew the dips and mountains of Ouma’s back in his mind -- how frail his whole complexion was, how you could see the protruding bone of his shoulder blade. He seemed like a glass doll -- something that would fall apart at the mere touch of him, and yet, he was able to take not one, but two sharp ends to his skin, just for Saihara. Just to protect him. Saihara glanced to his face, no longer interested in the shape of his back when his gaze landed upon Ouma’s innocent visage. It was not all revealed as he had been laying on his stomach, yet his large, puppy eyes being shut was enough to draw attention to his face.

He most definitely looked young, and Saihara wondered if he had hit a certain point of growing up yet, until he decided that was ludicrous -- someone that had not reached that point wouldn’t sacrifice themselves so quickly, so unhesitantly.

All the stress, all the lies, all the deceives and masks that Ouma could put on in the blink of the eye were washed away with the sight of such a serene expression. His eyebrows relaxed, not a smile nor a frown plastered onto his lips -- simply tranquility in which Saihara had only caught sight of here and there. He had never taken the time to watch it, to observe, and to appreciate it -- he had a face that Saihara wouldn’t mind looking at for a long time. There was so much to explore, from every wrinkle to every crevice and line -- there was beauty. He acknowledged that.

In this old, dusty, musty-smelling room, in his slumber, Ouma looked beautiful.

Saihara lined Ouma’s lips. He didn’t understand why that had come to mind, but Ouma’s lips looked particularly appealing right then and there -- they were not thin, but not plump either. Mildly cracked, but not dry. His mouth was always changing in shape, form, emotion -- shapeshifting into smiles or frowns or sneers or open-mouthed grins. Sometimes they held sadness, most other times they held an emotion or feeling that Saihara couldn’t put his finger on -- he was always so distracted by the words coming out of it, that it was easy to get caught up in each story that they spouted out, like water connected directly to the ocean.

He thought about how they felt. What it was like to kiss them. Then he grew disgusted with himself.

How could he imagine these sorts of things, with another guy? Wasn’t it strange? Wasn’t it weird? He shouldn’t have been doing this -- acknowledging beauty in someone of the same sex. Acknowledging that his lips were something he wanted to put his own to, and acknowledging that he was the bravest and most beautiful person he knew at that moment. It was just something you couldn’t do -- nobody did it. It was weird. It would taint his reputation as a prince -- it would possibly put him to shame -- it would maybe even put Primefield to shame -- and it --

“My… prince…”

Saihara blinked to see that Ouma’s lips were moving, yet his eyes were still closed, entranced in the land of sleep -- so he sleep talked. That was something that Saihara was not aware of, but was now -- he had just said those two words, in which he called only Saihara and nobody else: my prince . The two words danced as a warm mantra in his head, even though he had been called it time after time, ever since his grand birth -- everything from my lord, to your grace, to my prince, too. And yet, whenever Ouma had said this, it seemed natural -- it seemed like home. It did not feel like something he said out of obligation, but rather something he enjoyed calling Saihara -- something that just fit, like a perfect slot in a puzzle.

It filled Saihara’s heart, then, with a warm, unfamiliar, yet nostalgic feeling. Like he had felt it before, yet not at all -- something he had learned about, but hadn’t experienced himself. The softness of everything, the warmness he suddenly felt on his face, and the fact he found everything in this scene -- everything from the atmosphere to the boy who’s lips slowly turned into a sleep-ridden smile -- so homely, so welcoming, and something that he felt like he missed.

The fact that this was the moment in which he realized he wanted Ouma to stay forever. With him .

Saihara watched Ouma for a little longer as he sorted out everything: the fact that he was attracted to him. The fact that he found him beautiful. The fact that there was so much about Ouma that made him dance in the palm of his hand, and the fact that he wanted to stay -- it was all so much in his mind, to deal right then and there. He wondered if he would have to figure it out on his own, but realized he was never left abandoned -- even if he wanted isolation, Ouma would always be there.

Satisfied with this small reassurance, Saihara left Ouma to dream. Of what, was beyond him, but he held a small wish that it was of them.

Ouma awoke only an hour later, and by that point Saihara was sure that workers at the castle would be wondering why their walk was taking such a long time. So once Ouma got his standing, and his parents checked through and through he was able to properly walk, Saihara and Ouma traversed back to the castle. A silence shed itself over them as they walked (who could blame Saihara? He had just learned his retainer likely had feelings for him, and he was still wondering if he reciprocated those feelings), only filled by the usual noises of the forest. The song of the birds, the rustles of the leaves on the trees -- summer was approaching in its prime, and trees shone themselves proudly.

“Ouma,” Saihara managed, just barely sneaking past a voice crack. “Thank you… for protecting me.”

Ouma was humming a song under his breath as they walked, left to his own thoughts -- when Saihara had called his name he had turned his head his direction. A usual smirk, painted on those lips of his, “Does that mean you’ll give me a day off~?”

It was weird. The feeling Saihara felt -- the lightheartedness in his chest, and the immediate chuckle that he let out as a response, even though, normally, he wouldn’t react in such a fashion. It was like he involuntarily wanted Ouma to know the way he acted made him happy, even though he was somewhat sure his retainer knew this.

“If you want a day off, I don’t mind giving you one,” Saihara genuinely smiled along with the response, causing Ouma to smile back. The answer seemed satisfactory.

“Awww really!? Haha, you’re the best, Saihara-chan!” Ouma squealed, which made Saihara’s cheeks burn ( ah… I didn’t realize that he’s sort of cute like that. ) “...Well, not really. I’d like a full-course meal with that, too! Oh, oh, and I can mess with Amami’s stuff!”

“T-That’s a little much, Ouma… you don’t want my dad kicking you out, do you?” Saihara chuckled, watching Ouma’s face fall into one of understanding and acknowledgement. The retainer shrugged.

“Yeaaah, I guess. Geez, your dad’s such a party pooper.”

Saihara, once again, found himself smiling. It was now a thing he did without much thought, now that he knew all the pretty parts of Ouma -- well, not all the pretty parts, but much was revealed and realized to him that day. Parts of Ouma that he would never find himself forgetting, even if they were to never cross paths again in the future -- he was simply far too unique to be forgettable. Saihara wanted to cherish everything about him.

“Hey, so… I know you don’t like everything that’s happening concerning the missing prince. But, erm… the mourning’s in a couple of days. How about we take that day off? It’ll be your birthday too, right?” Saihara might have sounded a little urging, but he wanted Ouma to have a good time -- after all, he was the one that suggested a day off.

“Awww… but I want a day all to myself. I don’t want Saihara-chan ruining it all for me,” Ouma sang, which caused a tang of pain to shoot at Saihara’s heart. Sure he could be joking, but sometimes he was painfully honest. It seemed as if Ouma had saw this hurt in him, as he waved his hand. “Just kidding! Nishishi~ you looked so hurt there, Saihara-chan. Do you just wanna see me alllll the time~?”

Saihara couldn’t help but flush, “H-Hey, if you don’t want to then you can just say that….”

“I know. But I wanna spend my birthday with Saihara-chan! It’ll be the first time I’ll be treated royally…,” Ouma chimed, and Saihara was expecting a “that was a lie!” or something along the lines. Ouma honestly looked like he was about to complete this expectation, but held back, instead saying. “Nishishi~ I’m happy! And that’s not a lie. But if you give me a lame birthday, I might just have to kill you!”

The night dawned upon Primefield once Ouma and Saihara arrived back, and pretty soon they were bidding each other their good nights. Ouma had claimed that he was already tired after such a long walk back to the castle, and Saihara himself was exhausted by the roller coaster of events and emotions he had experienced that day. It was far too much than he had anticipated when he had left the bed he eventually rolled into the same night. The sheets were somewhat cold, and even though his bed was usually a sign of peace and welcome, this time there was something oddly off about it all -- like there was something missing.

Was this what they called a crush? Was this the way that girls in town felt about him, wanting to be by their side and holding them?

It was far too much for his mind to comprehend, even as a detective. So much had happened in that one day, and whenever Saihara had tried to close his eyes and get some sleep, the image of Ouma's back, implemented with the sharp end of a knife and blood pouring from its crevices made him tremble. It kept him awake, even though the rest of is body was dead from all the twists and turns and ups and downs. There was a peace that was interrupted inside of him from all of that, and thinking about Ouma dying so suddenly, was so ... so ...

"Why're you awake, Saihara-chan?" Ouma had called out to him, and Saihara had sworn it was just his own head until he blinked tiredly, seeing the silhouette of the other boy against the balcony glass doors, the moon shining behind him. The prince was far too tired to express his surprise, save for a small eye-widen -- he didn't even hear Ouma come in.

"Why are... you...," Saihara mumbled groggily, not wanting to put too much of a scold in his tone. Thankfully Ouma got the question, and had an answer back ready to fire.

"You know I wake you up sometimes, my prince!" That wasn't exactly a direct answer to his question, but… “More importantly… you’re not sleeping! You look exhausted! Sleep!”

“Ou-Ouma…,” Saihara mumbled, shaking his head and wanting to sit up -- but not being able to, with how heavy his body felt. He was so tired, and yet, finally, he felt a peace inside of him knowing that Ouma was there -- this was the strangest thing he had ever experienced, and he wasn’t sure how much he liked it. Ouma ‘awww’d, taking his hand and laying his upper body onto Saihara’s own, sitting down in a chair that Saihara had no idea he moved next to his bed.

“Here, I’ll sleep with you -- snnnnnzzz…,” Ouma snored, and Saihara knew he was pretending. Yet, even so, the emptiness was filled. He felt happy.

They both ended up falling asleep.

Chapter Text

A birthday present was inevitable for Ouma’s birthday.

There were many, many things he could have given Ouma for his birthday. As a prince, he had access to most everything -- be it nice clothes, food, jewels of sparkling different varieties or colors. Anything that he could get his hands on or desired was delivered upon his request -- and yet, this was only the case when he knew what he wanted. And when it came to Ouma’s present, well, he was at a complete loss.

Well… it wasn’t like anyone else was going to give him a present, or so he believed. Perhaps Harukawa or Momota would send something for the castle (Saihara had learned that Harukawa and Momota were planning on returning to Riverdem after the prince’s mourning. Harukawa would have to assassinate her enlister, which wouldn’t be much of a big deal -- in Riverdem people went missing and were claimed to be dead nearly monthly. Although Saihara had insisted he could help her in this area, Momota reassured Saihara, saying that Harukawa had been doing it for years,) but Saihara was genuinely unsure of who else knew Ouma’s birthday.

After all, Ouma didn’t talk much to Amami or his parents, as they were people he had a memorable past with. It was possible he was acquainted with some of the castle workers, but Saihara doubted any of them cared to know what his birthday was -- the prince never saw him communicate with an employee for a long while, so there was nobody he could assume him to be close enough friends with. That meant he could gift Ouma the birthday to remember -- something that would stay in his mind for as long as they both lived.

It made him wonder what the future would be like.

In the end, he would be married to Kaede -- this was just something he had to do. Something that Primefield needed of him, and something Acer needed especially -- a marriage between the two kingdoms would only prove to be beneficial, and the fact a baby girl and baby boy were born to each kingdom respectively was the prime opportunity for marriage. It was only natural from there that they would have them be familiars ever since their infancy -- it would only ensure a longer lifetime with each other. And as much as Saihara loved Kaede -- loved her for her sweetness, her honesty, and her nature in general -- he did not feel the jumpiness he felt with Ouma. There was no flusterness, nor did he acknowledge her beauty the same way he did with Ouma.

Kaede was beautiful. Saihara could not say otherwise -- she was a princess, yes, but his genuine opinion of her looks was that she was a pretty lady. A lady that he had grown up with and watch mature into the young woman she was now -- Kaede was now even taller than him, and seemed to be fitting into her role as a queen much quicker than Saihara as a king. Unlike Saihara, Kaede found her interests and roles in being a princess perfectly -- although she admitted it was a bit boring at times, doing what she did as a princess was what suited her. She enjoyed attending events where she could meet her people, warming the hearts of others, and as a side hobby of hers, she was quite the amazing piano player -- a perfect princess.

Saihara had nothing to complain about -- she seemed to be the perfect sort of girl you would want as a wife. But his wife -- something about that didn’t settle in himself right.

Even Kaede herself admitted it to be a bit strange -- after all, they were not suggested to marry each other until they were in their puberty stages, where life was slowly developing and unfolding into something more than just tight-fitting, expensive clothing and a luxurious lifestyle. Of course, the two were diligent and obedient children who knew their royal places well -- a marriage between them would make everyone happy, and thus, there was truly no reason not to. But now that Saihara had been exposed to what a crush felt like -- the bubbliness, the want to hug and kiss someone, the rush of not knowing if the other person liked you (well… he sort of knew Ouma liked him, at least, according to Momota’s words. But it was beyond him if Ouma still felt this way.)

Saihara had settled on a birthday present the night before -- which was, in the end, a box of fine Primefieldian sweets. It was lame, yes, but at least he was sure Ouma would like it -- not to mention, he already had a day with him set up, scheduled in his head in the most ideal way. But he should have known better than to think Ouma would follow his own way on Ouma’s birthday. It was the boy’s birthday, and to think he’d follow suit with it the way Saihara envisioned was… well, it was a little silly of him.

When Saihara awoke, he was greeted with the shining face of Ouma greeting him a wonderful morning. This he expected when he fell asleep that night -- Ouma seemed eager for the day ahead of them, as he was already dressed to his usual clothes (now renewed and no longer blood stained, but Saihara was sure that was because they had simply been switched out), eyes bright and shining with enough exposure that Saihara could have gone blind. With his excited retainer, practically hauling him out of his bed with rough tugs to his arm (Saihara swore he could have ripped it off if he could), Saihara began to prepare for the day with Ouma watching his every move (except when he was changing, because Saihara wouldn’t be able to handle that quite yet.)

Ouma seemed to have his own schedule planned out for his birthday, which was literally just maneuvering around the castle and telling Saihara he would pull some pranks. And even though Saihara wasn’t entirely with him on each plan, it was Ouma’s birthday -- he’d let him have some leeway, and help him with the small jokes. To Saihara’s surprise, some of them were actually sort of funny -- the harmless pranks, like constantly moving around an older worker’s glasses whenever she put them down, and switching the place of the pots and pans for the entire day. Of course the ones that concerned one or two individuals, Saihara made Ouma apologize -- but that was all the punishment he was given.

Seeing Ouma break free of some of his restrictions was nice in its own way. Perhaps he was letting him go off the hook too much and letting him abuse it (maybe it was because he realized he was a little bit in love with him, but he convinced his being it was because it was Ouma’s birthday and nothing else), but in the end, seeing how much he could have fun with Ouma’s activities was a nice change of pace. After all, Saihara had never been able to pull a prank in his lifetime (both because he never really wanted to and because he never knew how to) -- seeing the reactions of some of the workers, who took the pranks kindly, was also somewhat rewarding.

The time had come in which the ceremony for the missing prince would be held -- Saihara’s father had asked him if he wished to head over quickly to Acer in order to mourn alongside Kaede and her own parents (Saihara’s parents would keep watch of their own kingdom, in case for any surprise attacks by Riverdem). The look he glanced over to Ouma, and the glance Ouma gave back showed disinterest in the idea, so Saihara rejected his father’s invitation politely in order to spend the rest of the day with Ouma -- as far as the sun would last, and the chime of a grand clock would notify the entire kingdom it was midnight (something that only happened on special occasions, but due to the alliance Primefield had with Acer, it was best to pay their respects to the missing prince this way).

“Saihara-chan!” Ouma called out once they were excused from his father’s presence. “I wanna show you something, ‘kay~?”

Saihara agreed without much question, but not before he requested to visit his room without Ouma’s presence -- he was really grabbing the bag of Primefieldian sweets from a secret drawer of his. The sweets were unique to the kingdom and were generally given during Valentine’s Day -- it was a mini tradition that the town itself came up with rather Saihara’s parents or his ancestors. Regardless, Ouma wouldn’t have possibly known they were traditionally give to lovers -- the fact Saihara was taking this sort of risk made him jumpy, in a way. Love was fleeting and confusion, and maybe he liked it a little.

He had his own secret he was keeping from Ouma.

The prince stuffed the bag into somewhere safe, checked how he looked in the mirror, and went back outside of his bedroom door to meet again with Ouma, who surprisingly had nothing to say about his little trip alone. Well, except for, “Didja jack off or something?”

Wherever Ouma was leading him, Saihara had no idea -- the trails looked unfamiliar, and the pathways were not worn down in the slightest, meaning that it was an uncommon trail. It must have been somewhere only Ouma knew of.

The skies were dimming into a comfortable orange, now, as the evening was beginning to set upon the land about an hour into the boy's’ trip into the thick woods. A fear crept upon Saihara’s skin, and he wondered if Ouma was taking him out as far as he could to kill him -- perhaps he had stayed true to his comments from time to time, saying that he would find the opportunity to kill Saihara, but never chose to for a reason that was this or that. Saihara didn’t pay much mind to these comments -- after all, it seemed a little ridiculous to imagine Ouma would wait so long to kill him -- but now he --

“Saihara-chan~” Ouma chimed. The sharp pain of a knife was felt in the prince’s stomach, the handle being attached to Ouma’s hand -- an evil smile painting gruesomely on his retainer’s face. Ouma pushed the knife up into his upper body, slicing with a quick slash right into his heart.  “I didn’t lie when I said I’d kill you for a lame birthday, y’know~”

Saihara had no words -- there was only silence, as he felt heat rise into his head, a mixture of confusion and sadness and everything else that could be released, about he felt about Ouma, sputtered into the blood that escaped through the dagger that Ouma had dragged so, so casually into his body. Ouma’s snickering could be heard in his ears, ringing, as Ouma chanted, “My beloved Saihara-chan~ my Saihara-chan~!”

“SAIHARA-CHAN!” His name was practically screamed into his ear, and when he blinked, a shake of his head to follow up, Ouma was cradling his head on his tiptoes, their faces undeniably close. Despite the closeness, Saihara could tell Ouma was worried -- the sew of his brows and the few drops of sweat that surfaced on his forehead was proof of this. Saihara pulled back and looked around -- met by the same scenery of setting sun that he first saw. He breathed, deeply, as Ouma approached him. “You scared me, haha! Was it your plan all along to make me freak out like that!?”

Saihara heaved oxygen, letting out just as much in the process -- despite the friendly and casual tone of Ouma, some traces of his prior anxiety still shone, like in the way there was a slight wrinkle of his eye. These little things that Saihara was able to pick up, now that he had realized he had wanted Ouma to be with him forever and have him be happy -- a wrinkle near his eye became a giant scar of Ouma’s face. Instinctively, relieved that what he had just illusioned the sudden attack, Saihara tumbled into Ouma’s unexpecting arms, causing his retainer to let out a squeak, “Nishishi~ you seem really clingy lately. What’s up with that~?”

Saihara didn’t answer. He didn’t want to. He didn’t need to. Ouma didn’t force an answer once he felt Saihara wrap his arms around his small body -- something told Saihara Ouma got the message once Ouma’s own arms chose to wrap around his prince, with no words.

Once Saihara was able to collect himself (with the support of Ouma, of course), the two continued on their way towards Ouma’s destination. Instead of traversing in front of him, this time, Ouma chose to walk beside him instead (“Just in case my beloved Saihara-chan freaks out again! Rotting in the forest is a boring way for a prince to go.”) It felt better, to say the absolute least.

Ouma continued to guide him throughout the flora and shrubbery of the forest, passing by trees of all sorts of species and shapes and sizes, along with other woodland plants. The anxiety attack that Saihara had received only several minutes prior hung heavy on his mind, and he could still practically feel Ouma stabbing his stomach, that look of complete malice and no sympathy staining his mind, and he almost felt himself spiral own into another pithole of illusion -- until something distracted him.

A warmness, slightly, on his finger, and he looked down to see that Ouma had linked their pinkies. His expression remained just as it usually did when he was resting, and Saihara felt his cheeks burn up in embarrassment -- was he doing this on purpose to fluster him, or did he have some sort of ulterior motive? The air around them was then filled with Ouma telling them they were close, and this only caused him to wrap his pinkie even further around Saihara’s own.

Saihara couldn’t have been able to receive another attack.

Ouma led him to a pile of rocks, shaped oddly like a staircase -- leading to an opening in a low cave that would be covered by trees when seen from any balcony in the palace of either Primefield or Acer. Ah, so this was it -- this had to be where Ouma was hiding, when he worked as a phantom thief. Ouma released their hold of pinkies (much to a little bit of Saihara’s disappointment) as he gestured for him to follow, hopping up casually onto the rocks. Carefully Saihara trekked them, and once he reached the cave’s opening, he was greeted with the sight of a dusty, cold, lonely looking home with various items thrown in to make it a little more welcoming.

Small white boxes were stacked in the very back, and laid out near them was a bed of towels, all looking as if they belonged to Acer palace. Saihara had only seen them a couple of times, but he was now definitely sure this was where Ouma had hid out when he was still stealing stuff. The cave itself didn’t look dusty, however, and there were no cobwebs to indicate a spider or other insects had made their home in the small opening. Ouma snickered, “Nishishi~ welcome to my lair! It’s a little on the cheap side, but it did wonders.”

The cave itself was about 6 feet in height, so it was by far enough for Ouma to walk in and make himself feel at home for a couple of months -- the walls were decorated with nature’s doing, and Saihara’s eyes landed towards a frame that’s frontside was leaning towards the wall. Saihara assumed this was the family portrait Ouma had stolen, standing only an inch or two shorter than Saihara himself. A variety of other items were stored in the cave, like forgotten baskets, pots and pans, some silverware -- it was like Ouma had really made the cave his shelter. He must have had lived by himself, and without much else on his skill list, it was like stealing was his prime source of supporting himself.

“So this is where you lived before, huh? ...It’s homely,” Saihara complimented, receiving a nod of appreciation from his retainer.

Before much more conversation could be done, Ouma had directly Saihara’s attention elsewhere, with a loud, “Ooooh! Hey, look at that!”

Saihara looked over his shoulder, and was greeted with a sunset-kissed sky, drizzled with small dots that rose from, what Saihara could tell, Acer. So the mourning was starting. Saihara made his way out of the cave and stood onto the small ledge, watching the sky as more and more dots floated into the sky and became stars -- one with the blanket that was becoming the night. He heard Ouma’s own footsteps join him, and he could feel his presence beside, watching the floating lights with equal attention. No words were needed to be said -- all they did was stand and watch the night sky with each other.

There was a slight breeze, and the rustle of the trees below them was what created the music that the two of them needed -- when Saihara glanced down, he was greeted with even more lights. Fireflies had begun to sputter and let out their own glow, and now, they were illuminated with different sorts of stars on the ground and up in the air. Both of their eyes glued to the scenery, Saihara couldn’t help but smile at it all -- if this was the view that Ouma would get as a phantom thief, then he could see what was so appealing about it. Sure, Acer’s lights would only be here for one night, but something in him was reassured that Ouma was able to see all the pretty things that wasn’t for a prince that had been missing sixteen years.

“Saihara-chan,” Ouma called out, and Saihara turned his head to face him. Ouma was not looking at him, but rather, continuing to stare up into the sky -- at all the little things, be it the lanterns that were floating into yonder, or the stars that were soon to take their place. The low breeze tousled Ouma’s hair, and moved his eyelashes delicately. Saihara knew he was staring, but he couldn’t quite help it -- somehow, Ouma was able to look beautiful just the same as he did those couple days ago in the cabin. The retainer’s head then turned towards him, a rosiness in his cheeks being seen by the last amount of daylight -- a smile, one Saihara could never forget, dressed onto his lips. “Thanks for a great birthday. I’m happy! ...And that’s not a lie.”

Saihara smiled back. He was sure he would kiss him right then and there, until he remembered that he needed to give him his present, “Ah… wait. I have a present for you.”

The prince reached into his coat in order to pull out the bag of candies, handing it carefully to Ouma. The retainer, wide-eyed, accepted the bag of candies almost weakly in his hands, as Saihara explained, “T-These are special Primefieldian candies… since you like sweets, those are pretty hard to come by during the summer.”

Ouma stayed silent, as he looked from the candies up to Saihara, and back. His expression was unreadable -- although his eyes were pulled the slightest bit more open, the rest of his face showed nothing more. He turned towards the direction of the lights, again, as his only words were, “Saihara-chan… why don’t you go ahead and check that painting?”

Saihara tilted his head, confused, and was about to ask why, especially at a time like this, but he chose not to -- instead, he followed Ouma’s words, as he sauntered over to the flipped painting. As he pulled it off of its resting stance, Ouma called out, “Saihara-chan.”

Saihara flipped the painting over, trailing his eyes down Kaede’s parents’ painted faces, “Yeah?”

Just as he said this, his eyes landed to Kaede, who was painted at her parent’s side -- beside her, a crudely drawn person, in the same purple, who looked eerily like Ouma, was standing, a happy grin on his face.

“Do you like me?”

Chapter Text

A wave of electricity shocked through Saihara’s body at both what his eyes landed on and the words that he heard his retainer say.

There was nothing but a blanketing, white feeling the coursed throughout his being. As if somebody had simply set a soft reset button inside of him, causing everything, including his thoughts, memories, mind, emotions -- the sight of Ouma standing against the sunset, because he had turned his head away from the painting -- to vanish for a moment. He was left alone in this blank state of mind -- eyes closed, arms tucked underneath his chest, and he was left for a moment to wonder in a peaceful state until he was drawn back to reality only moments later. The painting -- why had Ouma done this? The question -- something much more important right now.

“I…,” Saihara began, unsure of where to pick up. He couldn’t tell him he didn’t like him, because he did -- he was the young man who had always provided him with a never ending supply of joy, wherever he went, even when the situation called for it to be inappropriate. Even when Saihara was about sure he would smack the smile right off of Ouma’s face, or was too busy wallowing in his own affairs to care much about the complaints that his retainer was making about being bored, he cared about him -- he liked him. This was clear. “...Y-Yes. I do… I like you, Ouma.”

If Ouma was like the rest of the people in town, and around them, now, and he had developed into a “normal person’s” mindset, then he would take the statement platonically. Saihara gently propped the painting back onto its stand, leaning against the rocky wall of the cave as he heard Ouma hum, “Reaaally~? You don’t sound very confident in yourself, y’know. And plus, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Saihara burned crimson as soon as that last statement was shot right into his eardrums, and he could practically hear his heartbeat running in circles, causing there to be a ringing in his ear. He had only realized he had been in love with him for only several days, but Ouma was able to figure out his puzzle so easily, as if he had been doing so his entire life -- Ouma was a better detective than him, it seemed. Ah, er, wait, that wasn’t quite right -- it’s because Saihara’s crime scene was left so obvious, that even a dog could figure out what had happened.

Ouma had stolen his heart. This was the inevitable truth of the crime.

Saihara gulped down a breath of air, attempting to breath in a situation which felt as if he had been forcefully pulled underwater and into the sea. As if air was hard to come by, and all he could feel was the pressure of water against his skin, squeezing it red-boned and leaving it in a complete daze, “T-That… of course… of course not. Isn’t that… y’know. Not normal?”

“What is?” Ouma asked, faster than a breath Saihara could take finishing his sentence. This time Ouma turned around from looking out at the scenery -- his face was not happy, but he did not look upset either. His familiar eyes, sparked with curiosity -- but that was quite all Saihara could muster up, especially in the circumstances he was in right now. “The possibility that Saihara-chan likes me?”

Saihara’s breath hitched once again as the grovel underneath Ouma’s feet were left behind, taking slow steps up to his own person -- the cape he wore fluttered in the wind on its own merit, his hair doing just the same as it overlapped onto his forehead and his cheek. Once again he had unknowingly stunned Saihara with how beautiful he really looked, especially with the sunset peeking behind him, and the little lights trailing out of Acer to compliment Ouma’s own lights, shining brightly in his eyne, “Well… yeah. I mean… we’re both…”

“It’s because we’re both guys, right?” Ouma finished, quite hastily for him. His expression than morphed into one of sort of boredom and disinterest, as if he had heard this topic for quite some time in the past -- Saihara could only imagine, if his dad was correct about the whole “being smitten” with him thing. Ouma looked off, in the direction of the family portrait past Saihara, even though they were only a couple of feet away from each other. “It’s because that isn’t normal, huh? Hmmm. ...Do you wonder what dictates ‘normal’ Saihara-chan? Whoever said that two guys together was weird?”

“W-Well… nobody,” Saihara admitted, having thought about it. Two men in a romantic, mutual relationship was just… something unheard of. Like the idea could only exist in a fictional world, and like there was absolutely no way that something like that would ever or could ever be brought onto the real world. It was just like that. It was fictional. It was like a unicorn or a pegasus popping out a novel -- that was what it would be like, being in a relationship with Ouma. “It’s just something you don’t… really see. Nobody really acknowledges it at all.”

“So if nobody does it, then why shouldn’t you?” Ouma pointed out. “People’s common sense is what we are grown up to believe. In Riverdem, there’s a law that can get you killed for being in a relationship with a guy, y’know? ...I read over some of Primefield’s marriage laws, too. There was nothing saying you couldn’t be in a relationship with someone of the same-sex. What you’re thinking is just what everyone else sees -- everyone else will see something that just doesn’t fit into their normal of life. But you have control over your own common sense and normals. Otherwise you’re just another little follower in a giant belief.”

“You…,” Saihara began, but he found no words to how to continue. Ouma made an incredibly good point -- there were no laws in Primefield stating that someone could be in a relationship with someone of the same-sex, and they were not in Riverdem. The fact that what Saihara believed was just a big collection of what other people believed -- that being with a guy was a fictional reality. It wasn’t -- you could have a relationship with a guy, if you were a guy, and Ouma had slapped this right across the face with his words. Saihara looked straight at Ouma’s face -- eyes hooded, lips in a somewhat-amused smile. “You make a good point… h-hey, but, um, why are you asking me this?”

“Why? It’s because I’m not part of the stupid mass belief. Everyone should just think for themselves. Seeing the same opinions gets super boring,” Ouma put it, in his own, Ouma-way. Saihara would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected an answer like that, however, Ouma continued on with talking. His hands swayed to his sides, one occupied by the sweets that Saihara had given him, until his free hand landed on its shoulder. He rolled his head, finding some physical distraction in the serious-sounding conversation they were sharing. “...Or maybe not. Who knows~? I’m a liar. After all… you can’t blame someone for being curious, after they buy you candies meant for people you have crushes on!”

Ouma stuck out his tongue teasingly, holding out the back of candies in front of him and shaking it so Saihara could see the contents under the transparent wrapping. The prince burned and even bright red at Ouma’s knowledge of that -- how had he known those were what those candies for!? “H-Hey, that’s--”

“Awww, don’t even try, Saihara-chan. I can already see you’re trying to lie to me~ don’t you remember? I’ve been with you since the autumn of last year. Which means I spent a winter in Primefied, y’know! I’m practically a native now!” Ouma explained, a sing-songy tone in his voice as Saihara could barely hold back the urge to smack himself in the face. Oh, that’s right… Ouma had spent the winter in Primefield. While Saihara was probably busied with solving a crime or two, Ouma would have totally been curious to the high amount of candies that were being passed around to each common citizen.

“A-Ah, yeah… that’s… that’s right…,” Saihara mumbled, shaking his head and sighing. How was he so dense to forget? Maybe it was because he was simply far too busied with the fact that he liked the boy he was going to give the candies to, and had never given them to anybody in the past -- as much as his parents encouraged it, he could see only bad things coming out of there being an event where he tossed out bags of the delicious, once-a-year treats to a crowd of young woman.

Ouma snickered towards him, the sun now setting fully and the lights of Acer slowly decreasing. So the event was already starting to end… when it should have lasted an hour or so. It was just then that Saihara remembered that Riverdem’s mourning event had purposefully postponed their own mourning session until after Acer’s -- kind of them, and a surprise to Saihara, but Ouma had told him that Riverdem just didn’t enjoy sharing the spotlight. Ouma tilted his head slightly, his hands now pulled behind his back, the candy bag, he heard, being clenched with Ouma’s fingers, as he grinned, “So do you like me, Saihara-chan~? If you do, just spill it!”

Saihara trembled in his spot, now that he was pressured into answering Ouma’s question -- did he like him? Did he want to spill out everything right at this second? What was there to lose? If Ouma’s father was correct when he said that Ouma was and still is smitten with him, why was he hesitating with telling him…? ...Ah. Right. If he were to enter a scandalous relationship with his own retainer -- the one he had met not even a year ago -- no doubt would there be public ridicule if anyone were to find out. It had to be a relationship kept in the dark, shared only behind closed doors and private rooms. Sure, Ouma’s parents were probably fine with it (after all, Momota seemed very enthusiastic admitting that his son liked him…,) but it was them four against the kingdom of Primefield and possibly more…

“...M...Maybe,” Saihara stuttered, shamefully looking at the floor. The ground under them sure looked interesting, with all those tiny pebbles and gravel and debris… “...I don’t… just. Let me… let me think about it for a little, alright, Ouma? I promise I’ll give you an answer, but… it can’t be now.”

Saihara carefully watched Ouma’s face for any reaction. There was, by some extent -- the biggest, in-your-face reaction was that Ouma’s smile simmered into something more melancholic, which was a grin that was straight-lined yet curved ever slightly at its ends. Like he felt only somewhat happy with the answer. His eyes, which were once again painfully familiar, were blocked out of any light or stars that he had seen previously, and instead watched him with a careful gaze. Saihara gulped, wondering what Ouma’s reaction would be with such an indifferent expression -- until, like magic, it turned straight into a merry visage once more, “Nishishi~ oh fine, I’ll wait. But don’t expect me to be patient with you the entire time! I wanna see if I can get to smooching Saihara-chan in private~”

The prince’s face was set on fire, and all Ouma did was laugh as a response to cool him down.

“So… that painting,” Saihara had brought up, as the two started their journey out of the cleared out area of the cave. Ouma had decided he was bored of staying in the place he once called his home, and wanted to take Saihara somewhere else that would better fit his interests and desire for amusement. “...Why did you want to show me that?”

“Huuuuh? Oh! Right,” Ouma sang, walking beside Saihara like he did previously. The night, now, wasn’t completely dark, which was reassuring to Saihara -- the trees were not so closed up together that they created a large blanket of darkness, and where both of them could be vulnerable for an attack. Rather, the lights of the fireflies that surrounded them accompanied by the light of the shining moon had granted them a well path of brightness. “I knew that the whole painting thing was what stumped you the most, my prince… so I thought my little addition would give you a hint!”

“A… hint?” Saihara parroted, playing with the image of Ouma being drawn beside the family in his mind. The fact Ouma had taken the time to add himself, and drawing that he was smiling, too… this being the last thing that he stole… “...Ah. Did you want to be royalty, Ouma?”

“Nishishi~ good job, my beloved prince! It took you a while, but I’m glad you finally got the message!” Ouma laughed. “I wish I could be that missing prince… wouldn’t it be funny if I was? After all, I gotta bunch of evidence to back it up -- my mom’s an assassin, my birthday’s today, and I’m the same age as this supposed missing prince. Nishishi~ you think Acer would let me marry you instead of Kaede if I stepped in as the prince?”

Ouma made some very convincing and oddly coincidental points of his relation to the prince. But no, he couldn’t have been the missing prince -- wouldn’t the images of him in the newspaper catch the attention of Acer’s king and queen? And Ouma had very clearly been raised by Kaito and Maki, too -- after all, he had adapted to their ways and learned how to be just as cunning, but amusing, as both of them. Plus, if Ouma knew he was the prince of Acer and wanted to claim its title, why hadn’t he done so if he didn’t want to get executed by his kingdom? Saihara replied, cheeks burned again with a scarlet, “I-I don’t… I… well…”

“Nishishi~ you’re so cute when you’re flustered, Saihara-chan!” Ouma chimed, which caused the prince to feel as if he was on fire once again. Thankfully the teasing would end there, as Ouma had caught sight of something that interested him. “Oh! That way, my prince! I can hear and see it.”

Ouma soon scurried from Saihara's side, causing him to call after him with a weak "hey, Ouma, wait! Wait!", traversing through the thick brushes and hitting his face into some low branches here and there. Ouma certainly had an advantage when it came to traversing these forests quickly, with his short height in all. Thankfully, his white clothing stood out against all the dark of the night, and Saihara was able to easily keep his eyes on his running figure as it slowed into a stop, becoming bigger as he claim closer. Pushing aside a branch or two, making his way out of the dark forests, he walked out into a clearing near a --

"A river...," Saihara whispered out, as he watched Ouma approach the edge of the water and sit on a nearby, large, rock to watch the water trickle down beneath him. Saihara, skeptically, approached the water as well -- seeing nothing but the quiet trickle of the stream just in front of his feet. The area around the clearing was filled with rocks, causing his travel to be a bit bumpy, but once he reached the same, large rock that Ouma had settled himself onto, his retainer scooted over to provide a somewhat-comfortable relaxation spot.

"Ah! I see them, Saihara-chan! Check it out," Ouma called out, pointing upstream -- Saihara squinted, wondering what he was talking about, until he saw what Ouma had meant. Tiny little lights were making their way down the body of water, tumbling and bumping each other, yet supporting the candle of light that was placed upon them with might. This was their only job, after all, and they seemed to be doing it splendidly. Ouma got comfortable again in his seat next to his liege, and the two watched in easy silence as the boats began to pass by their own rock. After about thirty seconds of watching the show of boats sail through, slowly but surely, Ouma spoke up. "So, d'ya know how to sing?"

"Sing?" Saihara voiced out, as if the word was new to him. Sing...? Well, he had no experience musically in the past like Kaede did, as he was mostly confined to law and order. "N-No... I don't."

"Awww, whaaaat? That's super boring! If you're a prince, why don't you know how to woo ladies~? Ladies love a man who can sing," Ouma explained, quite bluntly. He tilted his head, smiling at him. "Come on~ let's hear you sing!"

"U-Uh... I don't...," Saihara begun, but Ouma puffed out his cheeks. This encouraged him to try, singing a couple of words to a song he was taught when he was little -- in only took him a couple of seconds before Ouma let out a laugh.

"UWAHAH! Oh man, you're actually, like, super bad! Maybe it's just cause you aren't confident in yourself," Ouma hollered, as Saihara sighed, somewhat out of irritation, somewhat out of embarrassment. Of course he was a bad singer -- he had never sung in his lifetime (well, probably several times, but it was in private and never for someone else) and he didn’t expect to sound like an angel. Ouma swayed his body back and forth, eyes closed. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Help me…? Saihara thought to himself, but before he could find the room to question what Ouma had suggested, Ouma was already off on his own. Saihara expected some random song, about war or about life, or perhaps about moving on, but instead he was surprised to hear Ouma was singing about… love . He sang in a second language of the country -- the circumstances of language was strange. The country had a rich history of both Japanese and English influences, causing the languages to become mixed -- now most were versatile in both, but English proved to be the prominent and most used out of all that were spoken.

Ouma sang in Japanese, in words that Saihara could obviously understand -- and they certainly didn’t help calm him down. His nervousness only heightened, as Ouma began to sing about “you” (and assumingly, having singing this to Saihara, he was referencing Saihara himself), and seeing “him” in a room. He sung about the anxieties of a crush, the nervousness one could feel when wanting to be with them, and most notably of all, the desire to kiss them.

“ Hajimete demo yūkiwo, dashite -- kisushite ~”

Ouma continued more about finding the courage in “yourself” to go ahead and kiss the person. To confess your feelings, and see if you were right about it all -- to take the risks, jump ahead, and do what you thought would make you happy. After being confined to things that would make others happy, after trying his hardest not to be selfish even by a slight, the way Ouma’s voice carried out the encouragement to take a risk and just live was what caused Saihara to enter a wonderful, blissful state of euphoria and realization.

Fireflies lit up the area around them, the moon shone bright overhead, and the paper boats sailed their way to the never ending sea underneath their feet. The boats had a destiny of their own -- Saihara did as well, but unlike the boats, he had the choice of breaking it if he so wished.

“ Kisushite ,” Ouma stated, and Saihara had realized he had just finished singing -- the line was not meant to be sung, but rather, it was a statement that came out of his mouth. Not attached to music, not attached to a show -- just a word, that would translate to: kiss me . There was a silence right after, as the two returned to looking at the paper boats -- Saihara glanced only with his eyes at Ouma, who wore a complacent smile on his face, his own cheeks dusted with a spots of red.

Even though Saihara was the prince, he couldn’t quite say no to Ouma’s request. He gently put his hand on his retainer’s shoulder, causing Ouma to look towards him, and without a word or a breath or anything other than the command Ouma had quietly let out at the end of his song, Saihara followed obediently -- this time, because he wanted to. This time, because he allowed himself to be a little selfish but selfless at the same time. If Saihara were one of those paper boats, he’d disobey the destiny laid out in front of him, and quietly turn to another stream -- the one that had Ouma at the end of it.

Ouma proved not to disappoint, nor did he prove he was telling a lie in that command. He returned back to his prince gracefully.

Chapter Text

It was a good thing that nobody had been watching them.

Saihara enjoyed time he spent alone. After all, he was a prince that enjoyed solitude and days passing by without the disturbance of having to be placed in an awkward social situation (after all, it was always a little bit difficult to look someone in the eye, even as a prince. The weight of their gaze was also the weight of their expectations, and this drowned Saihara into an ocean of questioning of how well he really fared as a prince.) Those quiet nights he would spend with the company of only himself and a mystery novel (or new case from the town), sipping on marmalade tea and sweetness that could only be detected by the sharpest of tongues. Ouma tasted like the exact opposite of the tea he most enjoyed, even though Saihara unintentionally expected less.

Despite the cold lies and invisible truths that glossed his mouth, Ouma couldn’t quite hide his own taste. Their kiss was first chaste and innocent, lasting for a mere four or five seconds. Ouma had stayed where he was, his long lashes fluttering against the cut of Saihara’s cheeks (Saihara felt this and tried to resist the tickle of it all) until Saihara pulled away, both of them red-in-the-face and looking completely frazzled (Saihara was sure he looked even more so). The expression that had quilted its way onto his retainer’s face was one unfamiliar and foreign to the prince -- a mix of emotions, definitely, with prominent surprise, happiness, and desire. The desire was masked by the smile that suddenly crept onto Ouma’s face, as the two just stared at each other after Saihara’s sudden decision.

“Nishishi~ I didn’t think you’d actually do that, Saihara-chan… you’re still listening to my birthday commands?” Ouma asked merrily, causing Saihara’s gaze to fall on the texture of the rock under one of Ouma’s hands. The hand shifted, and so did Ouma’s entire body. The prince couldn’t resist looking back up -- that was right. Ouma had said he wanted to be royalty, so what was Saihara if he were to deny a request from a ‘royal’? “This can be fun! Hey, Saihara… kiss me again!”

Saihara almost jumped where he sat, and his heart rate skyrocketed thinking he was about to fall into the stream and destroy the paper boats that were still sailing away into the sea. He nervously looked around to see if anyone was around to hear (or see) what they were doing and saying, and Ouma noticed this hastily, like everything he did. A snicker shimmied its way out of those lips (the ones that Saihara had just kissed only moments ago), “Nobody’s here, my prince~ come on! Don’t hold back!”

“O-Ouma!” Saihara squawked, keeping him down by placing the two of his hands on Ouma’s shoulders, one for each. “L-Listen… um… I know I said to give me time to think… b-but--”

“But you want me, riiight~? You can admit it. It’s fine,” Ouma reassured, before Saihara had the chance to even finish what he wanted to say. Ouma scooted even closer -- there had to have only been an eight or nine inch distance between their faces. Ouma’s body had already become deathly close. “Or y’know… you could be… deceiving me! Could you be a playboy in disguise!? Ugh!”

“Wh-What? No! It’s just… I’m engaged to Kaede…,” Saihara mumbled, looking at his own hands. The ring was not placed on it -- Ouma had been watching him prepare that mourning, and he was far too distracted to have remembered. “...If people find out, they could kill you , Ouma. Even though Primefield doesn’t have laws for it, and even if it was my choice to have this sort of relationship with you, people are still going to point their fingers to you. I don’t want you… getting executed again. You already have a criminal record, and knowing you had an affair with me would--”

“Shhh. Such a worrywart, Saihara-chan! If we keep it a secret, no one’s gonna find out, right~?” Ouma snickered cheekily, causing Saihara to calm down a smidge. “Aren’t you just bored of looking for the truth all the time? What’s so wrong with a lie? You shouldn’t hate lies -- sometimes they’re used to protect people and not hurt them.”

“Well, you aren’t incorrect,” Saihara agreed, looking at the paper boats again. There was still a lot coming in, but the numbers soon began to decrease as time went on, and understandably so. The prince looked towards Ouma, whose eyes were still locked and loaded at his liege -- what pretty eyes, he had. And how familiar they looked, too, but Saihara didn’t want to try and figure that truth out now. After all, like Ouma said, sometimes taking a break from pursuing what was true was good for your heart and the people you cared about. “...Okay. U-Um… Ouma… I, er…”

“Uh huuuuh~?”

“I… I l-l… li…,” Saihara tripped, fumbled, and tumbled over his own words. Why was speaking so difficult all of a sudden? The expression on Ouma’s face told Saihara he was having the time of his life, trying his hardest to stifle a laugh that looked like it was about to burst out of his lungs. Saihara sighed, put his hand back onto Ouma’s shoulder, and leaned back in instead. Actions spoke louder than words, and this seemed to be the case with the two of them.

He felt surprise on Ouma’s lips, then a bit of hesitation as the pressure seemed to loosen after a moment of their contact. Saihara feared that he had scared Ouma, or that this wasn’t an appropriate alternative to telling him he had feelings for him -- he was proven wrong when the pressure returned soundly. The trickle of the stream continued to play a sympthony in his ears, but Saihara could honestly care less about the sweet melody that nature was singing. All he could focus on was Ouma, who he was kissing, who was kissing him back, in this small fraction of time, in one small spot in a universe of possibilities.

Keeping their relationship secret was more difficult than Saihara had expected.

Ouma was a PDA person ever since they first met -- mainly through random hugs from the back, and nothing extended further than that. It was clear that keeping their affair away from anybody’s eyes was going to be an issue with Ouma, especially since he kept clinging onto him whenever he jump-hugged him -- but something in Saihara knew that he’d be able to pull through and wait until they were safely and surely alone. After all, Ouma had, from that day forward, managed to keep his PDA to the same level as it was in the past -- he didn’t kiss Saihara or held his hand, but he called him his “beloved prince” or “beloved Saihara-chan”, and this caused no heads to turn. Only the two of them knew that it now held more meaning than before.

Saihara enjoyed spending him time with Ouma now more than ever. Ouma didn’t change as a person, of course -- he couldn’t have asked that of him even if he tried. Saihara knew that requesting for Ouma to be someone who he was not was entirely against why he liked him in the first place. He liked Ouma because he was someone that he didn’t fully understand, and could always provide him with company and interests. Saihara seemed to do this to Ouma, and thus, the two were inseparable after only a couple weeks of working with each other.

The way things worked out seemed almost too perfect, like Ouma had planned it all from the beginning. They did not sleep next to each other all the time, for that would cause some attention to be caught, but on occasion Ouma was allowed to sleep with the person he would call his lover in private. It was because he had entered his bedroom some nights just to “watch him sleep” (Ouma refused to confirm whether this was true or not in the past, and revealing his actual reason for coming into Saihara’s room in the middle of the night was still something Saihara needed to solve) that him staying overnight was not entirely weird.

Saihara realized, sooner more than later, that the lonely feeling he felt sleeping alone was, indeed, because he didn’t have Ouma there. Their first night sleeping in the same bed was embarrassing for Saihara, but totally normal with the way Ouma acted -- with the locks to both the balcony door and the main door completely locked (checked twice), Ouma had snuggled himself under Saihara’s arm and pressed his back against his stomach, “Nishishi~ wooow. You’re warm under here. It’s like you have volcanoes for nipples.”

“Volcanoes…?” Saihara repeated, finding the statement absolutely ridiculous -- but he couldn’t quite stifle the small smile that his mouth involuntarily curved into. “That wouldn’t make sense, though, right? That’d mean only my nipples would be the volcanoes… so why would the rest of my body be hot?”

“Nishishi~ dunno. Maybe your volcano nipples erupted some nipple lava that spread all around your body?” Ouma suggested, causing Saihara’s own face to erupt in redness. It seemed as if Ouma could detect this change, and couldn’t help but laugh. With a tight wrap of his arm around Ouma’s waist, Saihara hesitantly shifted downwards and placed his forehead on one of Ouma’s shoulders, quietly inhaling his scent. He could feel Ouma shiver. “W-Whoa! Are you horny, Saihara-chan~?”

“N-No!” Saihara responded on instinct, pulling himself out of the comfortable position and placing Ouma into the slot of his chest again. He could hear Ouma cackle, as he simply muttered tiredly -- regardless of everything, a smile once again found itself on his face. “Just go to sleep, Ouma.”

Being with Ouma was… incredibly nice. There was just something about being with a person that you could hold hands with, lay your head on, and divulge the secrets of that made Saihara so intently interested in all the concepts.

After all, he had read books back to back about wooing females and having the proper etiquette, even though in the end he got engaged to Kaede. All the books had instructions on the line of “smile a lot” and “always be polite” -- Saihara thought he was pretty good at the latter, and less experienced in the former. Of course, Saihara smiled (it was to be polite), but he nearly never did so out of involuntary feelings like how Ouma had done to him. There were also various instructions of getting to know the lady you wished to woo, always buying presents and showering her with compliments whenever possible, but these were all things he simply… didn’t do with Ouma.

Ouma was interested in always depriving Saihara from the truth, making it hard for him to understand and get to know him. Ouma never asked for presents from Saihara, but rather his time and ear -- and the present was gladly exchanged between the two of them. And Saihara didn’t need to shower Ouma with compliments every two seconds, calling him beautiful or saying he appreciated him -- he could tell Ouma got the message whenever he suggested it, and Saihara entered a state of blush.

It made Saihara realize that this might have been the reason why he had never had any interest in wooing girls or sweeping them off of their feet. The fact that Ouma was the person that he was waiting for, for the near seventeen years he had lived -- among countless faces of girls from all the land before he had become engaged with the princess of the kingdom next door, none had caught his interest. Even at a young age, he was introduced to courtship -- he still vaguely remembered the evenings where he would simply sit down in the throne room and judge girls by mere pictures, paintings and portraits. Whoever interested him was invited to his banquets, and with a couple of pity invitations, he was given a plethora of choices.

But none had ever piqued his interest -- mainly because he knew that they were only after his money and the position as the next queen of Primefield, the most socially and economically successful kingdom in the area. Which was why marrying Kaede would be the best outcome -- the kingdoms could combine, and the status could be shared. But he never felt the rush he did with Ouma with Kaede -- it just wasn’t there. Even though she was genuine, nice, pretty, polite… she was not his sort of cup of tea. It was like looking at a beautiful picture that stood out to you in a gallery -- but in the end, there were many countless pictures that everyone could claim to be the most beautiful.

Ouma seemed to always have a surprise for him, too. It was nice, sort of, to always be on his toes. The young boy snickered fondly one day, about three or so weeks into their scandalous romantic affair -- so far, a total of zero people were on Saihara’s list of people that were suspecting something. Ouma cuddled against him, them both laying on Saihara’s bed, ready for a sleep that had not yet dawned either party, “Saihara-chan.”

“Hm?” Saihara hummed, looking up from the novel that he was reading. He carried it with one hand -- the other was slung around Ouma’s shoulder comfortably, the retainer snuggling into the crook in between his arm and body.

“Let’s have sex.”

Saihara threw the book so far that it nearly hit the door, which was many feet in front of the bed that they were in -- just barely concealing his scream with his hand as the book fell with a thump onto the marble floor. Ouma watched him curiously, his head tilted and an innocent expression painted onto his countenance, “What was that for Saihara-chan? You could have hurt that precious little book.”

“Y-Yeah-- b-but-- y-you--,” Once again, Ouma had successfully been able to fluster Saihara with his words. But could you blame him? Ouma had literally, and quite bluntly, just asked him to have sex with him -- someone like him could only be expected to react in such a way. Saihara composed himself, clearing his throat. “Y-You didn’t… have to ask it like that… ”

“Whaaat? And miss the chance of seeing a hilarious reaction?” Ouma almost burst out laughing in his usual holler, but remembered to keep quiet and simply kept it down. “You know, I wasn’t serious ~ you’re too much of a virgin to give me what I want.”

“H-Huh?” Saihara sputtered. “What do you mean…?”

“It means what it means. You should really get your ears checked,” Ouma gently pulled on his earlobe, in a teasing fashion. “It means you’re too inexperienced to make me feel good that way~! But that’s okay… I like pushy Saihara-chan anyways~”

“H-Hey… I can…,” What was he saying? He had never had sex, so how was he so sure of himself? He bit his lip, holding back, wondering how many sex partners Ouma had had if he was saying all of this stuff -- as well as the fact that he could very well be lying about it all. Saihara figured that this sort of reaction was just what Ouma wanted, and sighed. “...Nevermind. Just don’t say stuff like that out of the blue…”

“...Well, what if I wasn’t lying, Saihara-chan? Y’know. About us having sex,” Ouma teased, somehow managing to scoot even closer to Saihara. His body left Saihara’s side in favor of his lap, which sparked an irk from the prince. “Nishishi~ I think I feel something down there. You have a gun? Or are you glad to be with me~?”

“G-Get--,” Saihara tried, but failed, as his words succumbed to Ouma leaning forward and hugging him in that straddling position. Saihara blinked, not realizing that his hands had found their way behind Ouma and linked behind him, keeping him in perfect place in case he were to lean back. Ouma unashamedly giggled.

“...If you really don’t like it, my prince, just tell me,” His words sounded surprisingly sincere, for somebody that seemed to take everything as a joke. Ouma released the hug and Saihara got a clear view of what he looked like with the help of the two small, hanging lights that were turned on on his wall. Ouma was not smiling, and was rather telling a story through his eyes -- Saihara gulped under the situation.

“I…,” Saihara begun, but found no words for a reply. In its place, instead, he managed a small sigh and made his decision quickly -- he couldn’t stand the atmosphere. There was by far too much sexual tension in the air, and it was all Ouma’s fault. Saihara made a move, leaning forward and colliding their lips together in a flurry. Ouma didn’t return back out of shock, but this was not held for long, as he soon made the effort to smooch Saihara with the same amount of force.

The hard kiss of theirs soon melted into something softer, warmer, sweeter -- exactly like chocolate, into sticky caramel staining both of their lips. Ouma always had this sugary taste to him, and they were already past the stage of open-mouthed kisses at this point. It didn’t take very long for Ouma to expand the exposure of his lips, and soon the two were exploring each other’s mouths as if they didn’t already know each other’s crevices.

Kissing Ouma was like kissing heaven, but perhaps he was overstretching it -- after all, Saihara had little to compare to. He had kissed people on the lips before, but this was only because of various reasons that all led to him being a prince. However, he had never “made out” with anybody, and the thought of it beforehand would have made him cringe -- but doing it with Ouma was just that good. Saihara supposed he shouldn’t have knocked it until he tried it, or maybe, he shouldn’t have knocked it until he envisioned doing it with a guy.

While most of the men Saihara knew were burly or well-built, Ouma was fragile-looking and small. He could practically wrap his entire hand around Ouma’s wrist, and pull him into his body, being his shield -- even though Ouma was supposed to be his own. It was hard to imagine he had gone through so much, including torture, and still keep his body intact the way it was -- he was truly resiliently beautiful. As Saihara continued to busy his mouth with Ouma’s, he started to move his hands onto the curves and mountains of his retainer’s back, and taking the risk -- he slipped a hand under the hem of Ouma’s shirt and traveled upwards.

A tremble on Ouma’s lips suggested Saihara had done something right, and the prince released the kiss in order to eye Ouma’s neck. He had also read sections of those “women wooing” books about the sexual advances a man had to take… and a neck seemed to be a sweet spot for many people. Carefully but quickly, he moved forward and began to spread light kisses against Ouma’s skin, to which Ouma hummed at, “Hmmm… I guess they do educate princes about something .”

Low moans replaced words out of Ouma’s mouth soon as Saihara’s kisses turned into small sucks. Everything became hazy in his mind and head, and Saihara from that point only vaguely remembered what had happened -- when he had come to his senses, the light of morning had peaked through the windows and beamed onto Saihara’s face. He blinked, slowly, and looked around -- his hips in great soreness, and his neck stiff where he laid. Saihara looked beside him to see Ouma, snuggled up peacefully at his side -- an exposed neck that showed red marks snapped Saihara back into his memory and he was already blushing at the memory.

However, something else caught his attention -- the door straight ahead. He squinted, for he couldn’t quite believe his eyes, but there it was, albeit small.

Despite remembering he had locked it the night prior, the door was opened by a hinge.

Chapter Text

Saihara had to think, and quickly .

He knew that the door being open was definitely a very, very bad sign. Maybe his memory was tricking him? Maybe he really didn’t leave the door locked, and anyone that was passing by could hear the… roughness that was occurring on the other side? He was sure he was far too into what was happening to realize anyone had opened the door, being distracted by Ouma’s quite everything (scent, body, sounds). To think he could have jumped the gun and taken risks to this point, and loving every second of it until it all came crashing down in mere moments -- well, it scared him.

Saihara had no clues -- he was not paying attention the night prior, so he had no idea if he had even locked the door in the first place. And even if he had, and someone had the key, he had no clue to when the door was opened -- regardless of when it was unlocked, someone had to have heard them going at it. Of course, the floor that Saihara’s room was placed in was on it’s own, singular floor -- the other rooms on the floor were placed with lone, extra grand bedrooms for extremely important guests. Only Kaede and her parents ever visited commonly, though, of course, they received other royal guests -- but for the most part, the rooms remained barren. The only room he was aware was peopled that night was his parents’, and it was several bedrooms down.

Saihara found there to be little reason for someone to have come specifically to his room, other than if they were going to his parents’ room. Perhaps a servant had come around, and was curious to why he was sleeping in? No, that was silly -- the only reason someone would come into his room without knocking or waking him beforehand, especially with a lock, was if it was a particularly important situation that he had to be alerted of immediately. And the only person that would have done something like that, trusting that Saihara wouldn’t reprimand and potentially get them fired from their job was--

Once Saihara got the name down, he tried his best to shimmy out of the spot that Ouma had him held down in. It turned out Ouma was surprisingly comfortable in the clinging hug to him, and shifted as well when Saihara moved by an inch. It pained him trying to pry his lover off of him, and he genuinely wanted to stay -- but in order to protect himself and Ouma, he needed to get to his first suspect as quickly as possible. Miraculously, the prince was able to quietly abandon his retainer onto the bed by replacing his embrace with a large pillow, blushing bright red at how he just realized he was stark naked, and dressing in a haste.

His clothing was far from properly put together, but it wouldn’t matter much -- the person he was looking for, Saihara believed, could care less of what his appearance was unless he was completely naked (like he was before). Saihara breathily replied “Good morning”s to all the people he jogged by, asking if they had seen the person he was pursuing -- all suggestions for look-out places led Saihara to the practice range.

The practice range was a large, open-area space in the back of the castle, just beside the peaceful gardens -- there were targets set up for shooting practice, for both arrows and bullets. Somewhere off to the side were dummies set up on stands for hand-to-hand combat (Saihara remembered how Ouma had taught him weak points there), and the entire area seemed to be completely deserted, save for a couple of flies near the beaten, fictional people on stakes. Or, this is what Saihara thought, as he approached the area -- however, he rejoiced silently when he saw the person he was on the prowl for appear out of a set-up stand, round-abouting the safe end of the training area.

“A-Amami!” Saihara shouted, fumbling as anxieties pelted his skin with every step. What would Amami think? Of course, he was his friend ever since he was young, but he was still mysterious in his own way -- he always was close, yet keeped his personal distance. Amami looked up from his revolver watching Saihara approach him with an unreadable expression on his face. Saihara’s run slowed, and he took a couple of moments to catch his standing. “I-I’m glad I, uh, caught you.”

“Really? You seemed a little busy when I went to check up on you this morning,” Amami cocked his revolver, holding the gun out towards the direction of the target. A small smirk was on his face. “I had no idea you were into pederasty.”

“I-I’m--!” Saihara tried to defend, but remembering what had occurred the night before stopped him dead in his tracks. He exhaled, taking a large breath in and calming himself down. “T-That’s not… that’s not what I came here to talk about. I wanted to discuss what you might or might not have seen when you went into my room.”

Amami’s finger hitched, and he shot a bullet out and into the target -- it hit just shy of the bullseye. Amami chuckled, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve known you for a long time… I’ve watched you during banquets. You never really seemed interested in ladies, after all.” Amami reloaded the revolver, and held his arm out again, taking aim.

Saihara could practically feel his heart let out a large, large sigh of relief. Of course, there was this reassurance that Amami would be fine with the way he was -- he was the person he was closest to before Ouma had come along. The prince nodded shyly, scratching the back of his neck, “I-I’m sorry… I know how wise you are. I didn’t think you would ever do anything bad as a result, so… I’m glad it was you that saw it.”

Amami fired. The bullet once again hit shy of the bullseye, and Amami tsked (presumably about the shot), “Yes. You could have asked me a long time ago to take you to a molly house, though -- seriously. I wouldn’t have imagined your distaste in woman would come to this.”

“Well, you’re the one that doesn’t seem interested in any of that…,” Saihara joked as Amami rolled another bullet into the gun, causing the butler to look at him curiously. “You seem pretty distant from that sort of stuff… I honestly thought I was in the same position, until I fell in love with Ouma.”

“You got me,” Amami replied, seemingly happy about his answer. “Hearing you joking around is pretty new. It seems Ouma could be loosening you up a bit. Maybe I haven’t met the correct person either, Milord… but I’ve lived a long while already. My age’s starting to get to me…”

“H-Hey, again, you’re not that old, Amami… you still look pretty young. All the older woman still swoon,” Saihara reminded, as Amami clicked the gun. The bullet shot, once again, and this time hit into the ring of bullseye -- not exactly center, but close enough, it seemed, as Amami let out a satisfied humphed. “By the way… you came into my room because you needed to tell me something important. What was it?”

Amami loaded his gun, exhaled, and shook his head, “Ah, well… it seems we’re all starting to learn from each other’s antics. Your father has also become interested in the missing prince… so he asked me to fetch you as soon as possible. That’s when I tried knocking, and you wouldn’t wake up… I unlocked the door and was greeted with, aha, a surprise. ...Regardless, he wants you to aid him.”

“Oh…? Well, that doesn’t sound bad…,” Saihara responded, unsure to why he needed to be waken up so early. Amami aimed, shot the gun, and missed completely this time -- he hit it into the last ring.

“Ah… it’s also because Ouma is on his suspect list.”

Once Amami had given him that information, Saihara had seriously begun to consider it.

After thanking Amami for his support and promising to keep what he saw a secret (thankfully he didn’t ask too many questions about their relationship -- instead he teased Saihara about how “he always knew there was something special” since he had seen it with his own little sisters,) Saihara made a rush back to his room. It would be dangerous if he let Ouma stay in his room alone, nor did he want him to wake up seeing him abandoned completely without a note -- he didn’t want Ouma to get any wrong ideas, even though he doubted he would.

When Saihara reached his room, opening the door quietly, he saw Ouma, still peacefully sleeping on his bed. He released a breath, and silently entered the room, closing his door behind him. Finding Ouma sleeping there comfortably was the best situation he could have returned to; actually, everything was unfolding pretty well. Even though they had been found out by Amami, as long as he kept his promise, they could continue to be lovers in secret -- but would it have to remain that way for a while? After all, if his father suspected Ouma to be the missing prince…

Amami had told Saihara that his father didn’t have very strong evidence that Ouma was Acer’s missing prince, and would likely only bring him in for a couple of questions that could potentially lead them to a better direction. But Saihara’s father did not know Ouma the way that Saihara did, and thus did not know the information that Saihara could use to his advantage -- he stockpiled everything on his way to his room. The fact that Ouma had primarily stole from Acer’s palace was one thing, and why he hadn’t chosen Primefield instead, which was known around the area for being much more lavish and desirable than Acer’s palace. If Ouma’s hide-out was near both kingdoms, then why did he primarily target Acer?

The fact that Ouma hadn’t sold many of his possessions but rather kept them, like treasures that held meaning. And they were odd things, as well -- of course, there were some that made sense, like towels to keep warm and soap to bathe with. But the two that stood out the most were definitely the painting and Kaede’s engagement ring -- two wholly different items that would have no correlation to basic needs. Not to mention, Ouma had shown him the painting after he had dashingly stole it -- he had encrypted himself into the portrait, as if he belonged there.

Saihara believed him when he said he just wanted to be royalty, but… he had also believed him when he claimed a lot of his past was similar to the missing prince. After all, Ouma himself had stated that his mom was an assassin, he and the prince shared the same birthday and age, and the two were last in correlation with Riverdem… it all seemed to add up far too easy. Saihara approached his retainer as he collected these thoughts, sitting down delicately at his size of the bed -- Ouma was asleep, a stress-free expression replacing all else. The birthmark…

Ouma’s neck was typically covered by a noticeable checkered scarf, always concealing the area that was his collarbone and nape. This was probably why Saihara had never seen the birthmark before -- if he had seen it the night prior, he was probably too interested in what he was doing while he looked at it to really register that information. Carefully, gently, in fear he would wake up his lover, he reached his hand outwards and tucked his fingers underneath his hair, lifting it upwards from the back --

“It was a lie!” Ouma suddenly jumped from his sleeping position and place, a cheery expression replacing the previous one of serene. Saihara jumped up so high that he landed on his feet, his heart having almost burst out of his chest at the out-of-the-blue statement. He inhaled, exhaled, and yelled back in a quieter tone.

“O-Ouma!” Saihara cried, shaking his head. “You can’t keep scaring me like that all the time…”

“Nishishi~ sorry! ...Not really. Your reaction was hilarious!” Ouma admitted, sitting up and blocking Saihara from the view of his neck. Saihara grumbled some more before he lazily sat back down -- causing Ouma to lean into him affectionately. “By the way… don’tcha think we’re a little behind with names? After all, we did have sex.”

“O-Oh… right. K...Kokichi,” Saihara tried out. It felt weird a smidge, but knowing that he (and by extension, Harukawa and Momota) was one of the special people that had the privilege of calling him by his first name felt great. Euphoric, really. “Hey, Ou-- Kokichi… I need to ask you something.”

“Mmm~?” Ouma hummed cheerily, laying his head onto Saihara’s shoulder, ultimately falling into Saihara’s lap. Ouma’s expression was cheeky, as he allowed his body (the lower half thankfully still covered by Saihara’s blanket [he needed to remember to ask a maid to change it out that day…]) to curl around Saihara’s waist. He looked up -- familiar eyes, shining again.

Those eyes… why did they look…? He’d seen them before… like the answer was at the tip of his tongue, and he was just a smidge closer to figuring out what it was. Ouma’s expression softened, then, as if he, too, was trying to put together puzzle pieces that weren’t quite obvious to him -- and then it hit him.

Those eyes… were the same color as Kaede’s.

“Are you… are you actually the missing prince of Acer?”

Those familiar eyes widened at the question, and Saihara could tell that Ouma was caught off guard and playing with the cards available to him. He had only seen him get caught in a lie one or two times, but they were noticeable -- he took slightly longer to respond, and a dead look would replace any previous one. Saihara watched him for any reaction, until Ouma just sighed.

“Ohhh boo. Your detective skills suck ass , Shuuichi,” Ouma yawned, stretching out a bit more as he made his head comfortable in Saihara’s lap. He continued on. “Leaving me to be the prince of Acer is such an easy way out for you, that I’m surprised! I thought I told you in the past that all the things about me that are like the prince are just coincidental. Nishishi~ maybe we’re just twins, in actuality, and I just so happened to be not dead!”

“But… that doesn’t add up,” Saihara contradicted. “My father said that the queen of Acer bared only one child.”

“Who knows? Maybe Acer’s been lying. After all, how can we really trust anyone, with all this mumbo jumbo about the missing prince? Let’s just move on already!” Ouma whined shaking his head furiously, causing the ends of his hair to whack into Saihara’s stomach. “I’m bored of hearing of this stupid dead missing prince! Move on! Chop chop!”

“...Kokichi. Please,” Saihara pleaded, somehow feeling somewhat surer that Ouma was the prince of Acer. The way he acted when they revealed they had a missing prince, the fact he always closed up to other royals (though this could be due to his record of nearly getting executed) -- down to those eyes, which looked mysteriously like Kaede’s. Saihara started to brush out Ouma’s hair simply out of affection -- but his finger caught on something sticky in Ouma’s strands. “Huh?”

“Hey! Don’t touch my hair, pervert!” Ouma yelped, sitting up hastily. Saihara tilted his head, confused to why Ouma was so touchy about the state of his hair -- until he looked down. Stained on his hands was a mark of… purple . He had taken a notice to the lighter strands of plum in his retainers locks long ago, yet had never brought it to questioning -- many people had hair colors that varied, and Ouma’s change in hair color was quite subtle to say the least. The purple strands didn’t stand out much against his typical eggplant colored hair, but now that he saw… Ouma looked incredibly nervous.

“Kokichi…,” Saihara mumbled, scooting closer. The other boy unexpectedly blushed a slight, shuffling further away -- this gesture caused Saihara’s heart to tear, slightly. “Hey, Kokichi… are you hiding something from me? ...You can tell me, you know.” Saihara didn’t wish to divulge further into words, afraid he would be pressuring Ouma into something he didn’t want to do at all -- he’d react negatively, too. It wasn’t the prince’s intention at all to offend Ouma. He just needed to know the truth that Ouma could only provide.

Ouma looked away, focusing intently on something that wasn’t Saihara’s direction. He looked to be biting quite furiously into his thumb’s nail, his eyebrows scrunching -- his face painted a picture of genuine stress. Saihara grimaced, upset with himself that he had put his retainer under such a circumstance -- he wanted Ouma to know that, yes, he wanted to know the truth, but if it would hurt Ouma in the process… figuring it out for himself would be just fine with him. Saihara leaned closer in order to hug him, somewhat awkwardly with their position, but enough to deliver the message of his reassurance.

“Listen… if this is hurting you, then I don’t want to know anymore, okay? ...What sort of prince am I if I can’t even protect my retainer from something that can be easily stopped?” Saihara asked gently, hugging Ouma closer. Ouma’s body fell limp to his touch. “Just… if you want to tell me, I’d like to know. But only if it won’t hurt you. I can’t stand seeing you like that, you know.”

Saihara removed himself from Ouma’s hug, and he saw that his eyes sparkled -- but now, it was due to true waterworks. He seemed to have managed to keep them in, and Saihara hesitated to tell him it was okay to cry -- soon, he deduced this unnecessary, as Ouma couldn’t quite fight them back anymore. Saihara wiped them off of his cheek softly with his powerful yet merciful hand, a comforting smile on his face. A few moments later, Ouma shook his head and sniffed, seemingly getting his ground.

“Ah… well, Shuuichi,” Ouma finally managed. He seemed to take a large breath, and tried to put on his best smile. It was nothing like his usual mischievous, smirky, or mysterious grins -- it was a smile that was melancholic, but truthful.

“Guess you finally caught up! I am the prince of Acer!”

Chapter Text

Saihara suppressed his shock with the information, yet it still managed to slip through with a small, uncontrolled, “Oh.”

Now, things had made much more sense… yet there were still questions that remained. Even though Ouma had just admitted the truth to perhaps the most difficult question he could have ever come to terms with telling no lie to, this didn’t solve the entire mystery. Ah, well, it did, for most people -- the missing prince’s identity would be found -- but unlike those “other people,” Saihara was genuinely concerned of the bigger details. Like why hadn’t he come forward once Acer announced that they, too, were looking for their missing prince? If the information he had was correct, this would have been the prime opportunity to step in as a prince.

Ouma still seemed to wish to lie back and forth about his situation, but doing was became more and more useless as Saihara seemed to figure him out as easily as a toddler’s puzzle with how much he had observed him over the past year or so. With some fumbles, silences, and thoughts that Saihara caught from his lover in the entire duration of the soft interrogation (it didn’t feel like normal interrogations. It just felt like an honest, friendly, and real talk between two individuals -- it wasn’t a detective and a criminal. It was two, sole people, who simply wanted to confront themselves in each other,) the prince found out much more information.

From what Saihara assumed to be the truth (as some points of his answers may or may not have been lies, and may or may not have had ground. Some of the details were filled by other sources, like his father’s point of the story), Ouma was indeed the missing prince of Acer, unintentionally conceived and meant to be initially killed by abortion. However, Riverdem had stepped forward and offered to take the child for there’s -- sending Maki Harukawa, the king’s personal hitman, to safely transfer the baby immediately once it was born. However, Maki had disappeared suddenly, but this did not stop Riverdem from spreading around they had a prince -- they would only gain more profit and attention for this incident. In truth, Maki chose the small child over everything she had -- good food, shelter, protection to do her job.

The reason to why she did this was still a shrouding mystery to Saihara (and even Ouma, who persisted that he still did not understand why Maki chose him), but Saihara assumed Maki had known Ouma would get mistreated by the Riverdemian royalty from the very beginning. Even though she was a woman that had killed hundreds, it seemed as if she had enough heart to not put the baby into a terrible situation such as that (Ouma had said she did this because she wanted to give the king a public middle finger, but with the way she seemed as a person when Saihara met her, he assumed she had some deeper reason for taking Ouma in).

With no other shelter for the baby, she traversed to her good friend, Kaito Momota’s home -- Momota, a well-liked and intelligent astronomer working at the kingdom’s science and research center. Suspecting nobody would find them there, and Momota reluctantly agreeing to allowing the two to stay -- eventually, they all grew into a homely, loving family. Saihara cut in, “Ah, so, they aren’t married?” This caused Ouma to laugh, something that Saihara honestly expected from him.

“Silly Saihara! Of course they are. After all, they’ve had se--” Saihara interrupted him with a quick “no, no, no,” not wanting to imagine Ouma’s adopted parents having done the do. Plus, imagining that such starkingly different personalities like Momota and Harukawa’s would combine to make a nice relationship was pretty hard to believe. “Just kidding! Nishishi~ so flustered, Shuuichi-chan. I dunno if they have had sex, or if they’re married. Probably not. Maki’s waaaay too busy with having a stick up her ass to care about that sort of thing.”

Something told Saihara this wasn’t exactly the case, but he simply let Ouma explain further in his own words. They had always been the type to seclude him from the world as much as possible, yet extended his views intelligently -- Kaito’s book smarts and Maki’s street smarts went hand in hand for a child that they wished to hide, which probably explained why Ouma was so intelligent in many ways. Ouma mused further on to say, “So I guess I’ve always been in hiding! Though my thief work was my big break. It felt so exciting, knowing I was getting chased around~”

“You… liked it?” Saihara questioned, eyebrow creasing in surprise. Well, this seemed to fit well again -- after all, Ouma had seemed to have lived secluded from most public places with the exception of school (or at least, according to Ouma’s word he went to school. But the classes were by far too slow for his academic level -- he was reading by the time he went to first grade.) It seemed only Ouma-like to want some grand attention be thrown on him whilst hiding from the suspicion of being the missing prince -- Ouma was just the sort of person who was looking for that sort of rush, after years of seclusion in the dark.

“Well, of course!” The giggle he let out, so unique to his own tongue, provided only a homely feeling for Saihara, now. Something that he found so peculiar and odd now felt like something he wouldn’t get tired of hearing. If that laughter was around, he knew Ouma was with it as well -- these thoughts rushed into his mind, seeing his retainer, still stripped of clothing and lower-half still covered by those sheets that needed to be cleaning. Watching Ouma as he explained his intentions, if these were even his true ones. The prince’s gaze landed on his arms, noticing that there were several different scars and dots of whiteness against his already snow-pale skin -- implying a hard life, even if he was raised gently. And Ouma’s words distracted him, a gentle pull away from his body, “It’s because I wanted my prince to notice me.”

“Notice you…?” Saihara parroted. What? Again, it seemed like an Ouma sort-of reason, but his desire for Saihara to pay attention to him, even as a criminal, made the prince only more curious to know Ouma’s intentions. “What do you mean?”

“What would you think if I said that, the night I tried to murder you, I wanted you to wake up? And that I wanted you to report me to your little servants? Of course, I didn’t expect Amami-chan to appear and hold me at gunpoint… but not all things go according to plan--” Ouma paused, leaning forward by a slight, catching Saihara’s gaze in his own. “--but sometimes heists don’t go how you expect them to. That’s the truth of it. What matters is that I got what I wanted. I was able to have you fall into the palm of my hand~”

And maybe he was right. Maybe Saihara had fallen right into his palm, right into a plan that he could have been conceiving for god knows how long -- it was interesting, hearing all of Ouma’s plans slowly unwrap yet remain a present, its contents unknown, at the same time. There was still parts of Ouma that Saihara had yet to understand -- why he chose to do what he did -- and every single answer only ended up in more questions. It was head-spinning, headache-inducing, and frankly, perhaps Saihara was a bit tired of chasing the truth -- but Ouma’s alluring treat of solving him in his whole only pushed Saihara further.

“Why would you want to do that?” Saihara questioned, trying again for a truthful answer -- he was met with Ouma’s homely laugh.

“Nishishi~ it’d be pretty easy if I just told you, huh? But that’s a suuuuuper easy mystery to solve. You just have to think a little, Shuuichi,” Ouma whistled, then scooting out of his place on the bed and hopping out of the sheets. He groaned. “Ugh… you really totaled me last night! You’re relentless , Shuuichi.” Ouma teased, then made his way toward Saihara’s bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Saihara let out a soft exhale, not believing he was that rough with Ouma, but it didn’t take long to figure out that reason too -- Ouma was probably lying, like he usually did, about knowing if Saihara could pleasure him easily.

Ah, Ouma.

That afternoon, Saihara and Ouma paid to their duties (well, only Ouma had to go to the event, but Saihara had gently persuaded his father into allowing him to watch the entire thing) and attended an interrogation hosted by Saihara’s father himself. Ouma passed by with flying colors, his lies simply going undetected by most of the spectators in the room -- it was a fascinating sight, if you asked Saihara. While he, who knew the truth behind all of Ouma’s words, knew every single fib that came out of his mouth, it wouldn’t be that way if he hadn’t. He would be listening, attentive to every single word and logic that spilled from Ouma’s mouth -- and he doubted he would have been wary.

Saihara noticed that the things that Ouma had tried to hide, with fail, from Saihara, were easy to do so in front of the small amount of spectators and transcriptors. He did not look worried in the slightest, nor did he seem to be shaken up whenever someone accused him of a mistake in his words -- it felt like he was on trial when he wasn’t. But he was prepared, with a sworn truth that had not been taken at all. Some of the things his retainer admitted to were true, but most were consistent, believable lies. Once the entire interrogation was over, and Ouma had told Saihara there was something more he wished for him to see, the two walked casually throughout the castle, to Ouma’s room.

There was more on Saihara’s mind, however. Now that Saihara had learned that Ouma was Acer’s prince… wouldn’t that mean they could get married, in peace? If the entire reason he and Kaede were to wed was for the purpose of uniting their kingdoms, then wouldn’t it be the same if Ouma were to return to the royal family? After all, he had said he always wanted to be royalty, and… wait. There was no guarantee what was a lie, what was a truth -- what Ouma wanted, and if they would live their happily ever after so easily. It was over thinking, and romanticizing, and for a moment Saihara damned himself for hoping things would go so smoothly. There was still so many other issues with this entire thing that it would be unlikely he wouldn’t bump into some forks.

Ouma had instructed Saihara to wait in his chambers while he washed up in his bathroom, leaving the prince to his own affairs for a small while. Ouma had certainly taken the time to make his room his -- although the employee’s rooms were not exactly as grand as the more luxurious rooms, they seemed enough for somebody that wanted to stay in a castle without seeming too selfish. The mattress was of a lower quality, and Saihara could tell the sheets were not washed daily -- they smelled like Ouma, a piece of information that Saihara made sure not to get too involved in. There was a small window on the outside-facing side, bordered simply. The walls were mostly a dull wallpaper, but the more intricate, smaller designs of the liveable-sized room was what made it stand out as a room of a castle.

What made it Ouma’s was the fact that he had completely made use of the space. Instead of simply leaving things in a minimalistic, organized style, he tossed and turned with his “decorating.” There were playthings meant for children of Primefield scattered around, but also a map of constellations tacked onto the longest wall in the room. Photos of familiar faces were scattered on another wall, Saihara’s face being one of them -- isolated from the others, such as Kaede, her parents, Amami, Saihara’s parents, and even Tojo. Boxes were piled with various different items by first glance, and the room was just as childish as it was mature. Figuring out Ouma was surely a ride.

It didn’t take very long for Saihara to spot the telephone that was located in Ouma’s room. He vaguely remembered Ouma asked him for one to be installed in his room that spring so that they could communicate easier -- Saihara was sure he was using it for other purposes too, hopefully nothing too malicious. Quickly dialing the number to the servant’s room in the castle, he requested for a particular book to be dropped off in front of Ouma’s chambers. It didn’t take particularly long for there to be a soft knock on the door, and an employee was handing him his desired manuel: Acer’s entire book of laws and rules.

Making himself comfortable on Ouma’s bed again, Saihara gingerly opened up the table of contents to look for the laws on marriage. With a bit of skimming, he rescued the page number, and flipped through the book’s contents, not caring for anything else listed. The reason Primefield had a book on Acer’s laws was solely because of their close ties -- not to mention, Saihara had read the book some in the past, just out of curiosity. It had been abandoned in the castle’s library for quite some time, and Saihara was finally picking it back up.

Saihara landed on the laws of marriage section, which was a particularly shorter section compared to the surrounding rules. It only provided a deeper peace in Saihara’s heart, knowing that there was a less likely chance that homosexual marriage was illegal. He carefully traced each law listed under “Marriage” with his observant eyes, skimming over words such as “minor” and “unlawful” and “forbidden” -- until, tragically, his gaze fell over the word “homosexual.” Saihara took a breath, reading the rule listed.

Homosexual marriage is prohibited and shall not be condoned by any form of official marital bond.

“Damn…,” Saihara cursed under his breath, knowing that Acer having a no homosexual marriage law was something that seemed a little too good to be true. There was no law in Primefield stating anything on homosexual marriage, so perhaps if Ouma never revealed he was a prince… ah, no. That was too selfish of Saihara. Not to mention, Saihara couldn’t exactly back out of his engagement with Kaede for his own retainer -- no doubt would it be difficult just eloping with Ouma. The prince pondered more in his options as he lay back and onto the less comfortable mattress compared to his own (no wonder Ouma liked to sleep on his bed,) until the opening of the bathroom door was heard.

“Shuuichi! Here I am!” Ouma chimed out, causing Saihara to sit up -- what he saw took him aback. A fluffy white towel was wrapped around his waist, covering up his legs -- eyes traveling up his body, skipping along the crevices of his skin, Saihara’s gaze immediately caught to the ends of Ouma’s strikingly noticeable hair. The parts that were previously dyed the shade of purple were now blonde -- the same shade as Kaede’s. Saihara’s eyes widened considerably, and he couldn’t quite believe he hadn’t taken notice of it before. “Pretty cool, huh? Mom’s made me dye it ever since it became noticeable. I didn’t reaaally understand why until she exposed me and told me I was Acer’s prince.”

“Ah… that makes sense,” Saihara agreed, looking back into the book of laws as Ouma sauntered to his wardrobe, discarding the towel and beginning to dress himself. He did so both to give Ouma some privacy, and to reread the law that was printed so dishearteningly on the page -- dressed in black, holding Saihara down into a choke. It hurt him, in more places than one -- and he was sure that Ouma already knew this law was already established. That must have been a reason to why he hadn’t returned yet. Saihara looked up, seeing Ouma’s back -- stained fresh with the scar of the dagger from only several days ago. He was hurt deeper than he was, his sadness slicing harder at the sight of Ouma’s wound. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? What for?” Ouma asked looking over his shoulder momentarily before shuffling his pants on. Wait… what was he sorry for? The apology had just come to him, like something his mouth said on its own. Saihara frowned, sighing.

“That… um… this has to be so difficult,” His excuse was tied with the scar. It was connected to all of this. “If only one of us were… you know. Then it would at least be a little more simple… but it’s not like that. We can’t keep hiding our relationship. I’m going to get married this winter. It…”

“...Are you saying you don’t wanna be with me anymore?” Ouma voiced, his dressing slowing down, continuing to face away from Saihara. The prince’s anxiety and heart rate spiked, and even though Ouma couldn’t see him, Saihara shook his head.

“No! I want to be with you… it’s just… the way things are… it…,” Saihara knew that this wasn’t the correct way to put it. He sounded like a complete fool, and he was sure if he was Ouma it sounded as if he was lying. “...Listen. I don’t know what to do, Ouma. Acer won’t let you marry me even if you returned, but if you don’t reveal yourself as the prince, I’ll have to be wed to Kaede. If we get caught again, by someone that isn’t Amami, when I’m married… they’re going to kill you, Ouma. ...I don’t know what to do.”

Saihara could vaguely hear a sigh as Ouma fixed the shirt onto himself, reaching in for something more before shutting the drawer to his wardrobe. He made his way quietly to Saihara’s side, and the prince moved the rule book away to let his lover sit beside him. What Ouma held in his hand surprised him -- fitting extremely loosely on his ring finger, Ouma slid Kaede’s engagement ring onto his pale digit, “We’re really in a fix, aren’t we, Shuuichi?”

“...Yeah,” Saihara agreed, and the two sat in silence as Ouma played with Kaede’s engagement ring. It all cleared in his head, now -- he remembered Momota saying Ouma had always been smitten with him. For how long had this been? ...Had Ouma become a phantom thief, knowing that Saihara would pursue him? Trusting that he would save him from execution? Putting so many factors of “what if” into play, for this relationship? Ouma, who had put his life on the line, for him -- Saihara realized then, how much Ouma really loved him.

Saihara, with this realization, couldn’t help but distract Ouma’s attention from the ring by leaning slightly away from him -- the retainer noticed this and looked to be somewhat offended, about to call Saihara out, but the prince cut him off with a soft kiss to the lips. In such an action, Saihara hoped, he was able to deliver the message of how much he appreciated, loved, and admired Ouma right back. The two melted into the gentle, innocent kiss, until Saihara pulled away.

“...Nishishi. For the first time, I think life’s got me at the end of my ropes,” Ouma admitted quietly, scooting back next to Saihara, melancholy in his voice. The engagement ring, meant for Kaede, shone in the room’s light. “...What do you want to do, Shuuichi?”

Saihara pondered the question. What should he do?

There were no answers. Only silence, and as Saihara thought hard, he wrapped his hand around Ouma’s engagement-ring fingers. Ouma clenched back.

Chapter Text

With his options laid in his head, the prince thought solemnly about what he would do. Continuing their secret relationship seemed to be the most dangerous thing -- there was the chance they could be caught again, and things would become extremely ugly if they continued past his and Kaede’s wedding. Saihara could also just tell his father about the situation -- after all, he was the king of Primefield, and couldn’t exactly say that having a relationship with a guy was illegal. However, there was the chance he’d get reprimanded, and be shunned immediately -- he couldn’t exactly predict the outcome of his father’s reaction. Not to mention, Saihara was pretty much having an affair while engaged -- something Saihara’s father wouldn’t appreciate, even if Ouma were a girl.

Saihara bit his lip, mumbling an option onto his lips -- warmed only by the kiss that he and Ouma shared moments ago. “Maybe we could… we could run away,” Saihara suggested, softly -- unconfident. Usual of the wary and self-conscious prince. “...We don’t have to get any royalty involved if we do. But…”

“You don’t want that, do you, Shuuichi?” Ouma piped in, finishing his sentence for him. As much as Saihara hated to admit it, this time Ouma was filling in a truth for him. “Nishishi… I know. You’re a die-hard for Primefield ‘till the very end, huh? ...It’d be a little strange, not calling you ‘my beloved prince’, anyways.”

Saihara glanced at his retainer -- there was a smile on his face, no malice or malicious thoughts to be found in any crevice. He looked more sad and melancholic than anything. Saihara understood why -- running away and eloping was probably the most desirable choice by Ouma. After all, he had been doing it his entire life, so why did it matter if he dragged Saihara into it all? Saihara was the one who suggested doing it as well, meaning he was giving Ouma some sort of permission to imagine that scenario. In the end, however, it was painfully obvious that running away wasn’t the correct choice -- they couldn’t keep running.

Something about the way Ouma held his hand told Saihara he didn’t want to keep running away as well.

Furrowing his eyebrows and frowning, there really seemed to be only one safe course of action left. “...How about… how about you return to Acer?” Saihara proposed, feeling Ouma shift beside him. All Saihara could do to hold himself back from breaking was to look at their entwined hands. “Then… then I can try to convince the king and queen to let me marry you. I-I know it’s against the rules, and it’s risky, but at least the both of us would be safe from possible harm…”

Ouma’s clench tightened at the sound of it, and the silence that followed obviously told a story about how he felt about the plan. Saihara allowed it to stay, basking in it and wondering what the flaws were -- Ouma soon spoke up, “...Well, I guess if we both turn out spot-free, I guess we should.”

“But do you want to?” Saihara asked, immediately after Ouma had reluctantly agreed to the plan. “...What’s stopping you from admitting to being the prince…?”

“Nishishi~ I guess I just don’t wanna be held to responsibility!” Ouma joked, laughing as he shook his head. Saihara watched him with a concerned, unconvinced face -- Ouma noticed he couldn’t quite fool him with his lies that easily anymore. “...I mean, would you want to go back to a family that didn’t want you in the first place?”

Saihara’s eyes widened at his reason -- so that was why? Because they hadn’t wanted him? Ouma was an independent man, and seemed to not be beheld to anyone -- he could obviously take care of himself, and if something didn’t go his way, he would find a way out of it. But no lie or trick could escape from the fact that he was the lost prince of Acer, and one that wasn’t wanted. If Harukawa hadn’t stepped in and sacrificed her job in order to keep Ouma from having a terrible childhood, then…

Saihara found himself bringing Ouma tightly to his side, feeling nothing but sorrow and sorry for him. Ouma had a much more difficult position than Saihara, and it was the prince’s job to try and help him figure out what the best course of action would be -- Saihara cared too much about Ouma at this point to have simply thrown any care away. His retainer hesitantly snuggled back, rubbing his forehead tenderly against his chest, and Saihara once again laid out his choices -- what would make the both of them happy? How could they make this work? Was it even meant to work at all? Their situation as star-crossed lovers plagued both individuals, and the prince found his only peace in it all with Ouma, who warmly allowed the hug.

“...I love you, Kokichi,” Saihara quietly spoke. The boy in his arms didn’t move, giving him a cue to continue. “You’re just… you’re that much different than everyone else. ...I care about whether you’re happy or not. You’re… um… you’re the strongest and bravest person I know. The day you nearly sacrificed yourself for me… that… that was the day I realized I never wanted to see you get hurt. Ever again. I think… I think that’s what love is.”

Ouma remained quiet throughout his speech -- Saihara gathered his words again, “It’s… it’s love. It’s a cliche feeling that’s romanticized and has been romanticized over and over again. And I didn’t… I’ve never felt this sort of love before. I never understood why it was so important to people. I’ve always been chased by girls who want to be in your position, right now… but I doubt that they feel the love I feel for you. Maybe that’s why I chose to be ignorant about it… I don’t know if you planned it or not, but you ripped my own hands off of my eyes.

“Kokichi… I want you to be happy. I want to be happy with you . I think that’s what they call love. It’s… It’s wanting the person to feel no pain. Wanting to protect them, and wanting them to have everything they want beyond all rationality,” Saihara paused, feeling a moisture on his shirt -- he chose not to question it. The prince finished. “You can’t… you can’t twist my own feelings for you in your own lies, Kokichi. I love you. I want you to be happy. That’s my truth.”

That night, once again, they slept in Saihara’s room. The dinner that evening was pleasant, and Ouma had even gifted him a nice treat -- quote, “I made it myself!”, which he doubted. Still, the small tart he was given was good, and it didn’t take long for Saihara to thank him and promise they could go visit a bakery in town the next day if his duties didn’t get in the way.

There was no possibility that the prince could get a peaceful sleep if he was left alone in his bed, and this was multiplied with the fact that he wanted to watch over Ouma. That morning, Ouma woke him up gently -- the sun shone so brightly, that it had to have been around the afternoon. It was easy to just lay around and bask if it was with Ouma.

“Shuuichi…,” He heard Ouma over his own drowsiness -- his voice clear, his appearance blurred. Saihara hummed as a response he was listening, and even through Ouma’s tone he could tell he softened. “...My beloved prince. How stupid of me. I forgot to tell you that… I love you too.” The prince smiled at those words, and found himself back into his slumber.

When he awoke, however, likely only an hour or so later, Ouma was nowhere to be seen.

“Have any of you seen Ouma?” was a question Saihara had asked around the castle for the past thirty minutes. All led to one answer -- a variation of no, and that his appearance was one that nobody had seen. Saihara had confronted every crevice of the castle -- the kitchen, the worker’s chambers, the laundry room. The throne room guards, the front door maids, and even the shoe shiner who didn’t do much other than sleep in his room. Nobody had seen Ouma, and as time continued on and the “no”s piled up, the more anxious Saihara got.

He attempted to reassure himself that it was likely Ouma just being Ouma. He was probably out by himself. Sneaking around, pulling pranks in town. Being independent, like Saihara believed him to be -- which was fine. It was simply strange to wake up without Ouma there, since, normally, neither would budge from the bed until the other woke up (the only exception was when Amami had caught them). Attempting to mask his anxieties once he returned to his chambers, he went over to the bookshelves and picked out a mystery novel -- one he had had to have read three times through already. The prince was aware of this. It’s not like he’d be focusing on the words anyways.

Something on the table near his sofas caught his eye, as he made his way there to make himself comfortable. Hurriedly he walked towards the piece of furniture -- there was an envelope there, sealed shut, the words “My Prince” written on the cover, “Ah, this had to have been Ouma.” Saihara said out loud, even if it was stupidly obvious. It was like he needed a voice to tell him that Ouma was safe and okay.

He carefully opened the envelope, gently taking out the letter inside. As he read into the words, his heart slowly fell deeper and deeper into his stomach -- he found himself dead-feeling by the end of it. The letter, in it’s wholity, read:

My beloved detective prince, Shuuichi Saihara,

It’s me! Ouma! I’m sure you’re surprised to see me gone. This is just to tell you not to worry one bit! Your precious little Ouma is safe. In writing, I am truthful, so there’s no need to worry about me telling a lie. Thank you for taking care of me for the past near year. You certainly were never boring, my darling. These past months have been the most fun I’ve had in my entire life! And I hope that I didn’t bore you , my beloved. That would certainly be the most disheartening thing.

As for myself, I’m safe. You told me yesterday (unless that was a lie) that you wanted me to be happy. Well, my beloved prince, my happiness is your own -- this is really the case of some star-crossed lovers, huh? In the end, I’ve been in love with you for a long, long time. In the end, I was able to get as much as I could gather until everything nearly spills off of the brim! I got you to say you loved me. And that’s all I need -- you know. Knowing you love me.

Hey, I’ll stop being so evasive! I’ve left. And I’m not coming back. Don’t worry, Shuuichi. It’s not because I don’t love you. Oho, now that’d be a HUGE lie! I’ve figured out that us being together is only going to hurt. I didn’t want to leave… but in the end I was forced to do this. For you, my beloved prince, this is my choice. I’ve collected all of my precious belongings and have left the castle entirely. From this point, I resign from being your retainer. Thank you for everything, my prince -- for keeping me safe, especially! But for loving me, too. Knowing you love me is most certainly the most rewarding part of all of this.

Let’s meet again in the future, Shuuichi. I want to see how much you grow from afar. Even though I can’t be with you (hey, seeing you get married in front of my eyes would really hurt me! You’re such a sadist, Shuuichi!), I can certainly hear of you through news and through word on the street. I’ve gotten pretty good at that, you should know. Not everyone sees how happy we are together. That’s just the stupid reality. So maybe we were never meant to be -- I knew that loving you was farfetched anyways.

But you loved me anyways! Nishishi… thank you for granting me the greatest wish of all! And all of this isn’t a lie at all!

Even if having me around is your happiness, I couldn’t do that to you, Shuuichi. Hey.. I’m sorry. But I’ll tell you that to your face soon.

Sincerely, your devoted past retainer,

Kokichi Ouma

(PS. Don’t look for me. I’m probably out of the country right now! Or maybe I’m not? Who knows! I’ll be a trickster until the end.)

And written, in the tiniest font possible,

(Extra PS. I love you, Shuuichi!)

There was only a hole where Saihara thought his heart was when he finished reading the letter. He read over that last PS, hearing Ouma say it with his own words, even though he wasn’t directly there. So he had left. He had left, because leaving was the safest and best thing he could do -- not for himself, but for Saihara. He loved him enough to give everything up for Saihara’s ensured safety, reputation wise and more . It was this realization that caused him to burst into silent tears -- he damned himself for not waking up. He damned himself for not stopping Ouma. He damned himself for everything, and blamed it all on himself and his title as a prince. His title as a man.

Saihara weakly put the letter on the table, and stood up. He looked around the room -- everything was just as the same as it was. The bed had been made while he made his rounds around the castle asking for information. His closet closed, likely that his outfits were lined and organized accordingly. The walls were clean, the floor was swept, the books dusted. His bathroom was probably all cleaned too. But now, everything reminded him of Ouma -- it had Ouma’s brand on it, stained by Saihara’s own memory.

I’m not coming back . The line echoed in his head, as Saihara made his way to the balcony door. I didn’t want to leave .

The door to the balcony was turned open by Saihara’s own hand, as he stared out at the town of Primefield below him. It was like he had Ouma there beside him again, whether it was looking out and counting the people, or looking up and watching the stars. The prince’s face scrunched up in sorrow, every feeling of sadness being amplified -- more than once, now, Ouma had sacrificed something of himself for Saihara. Not only had he protected him from harm, but he gave up their relationship so Saihara’s reputation wouldn’t suffer -- so he wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught with a guy.

It was all for Saihara. And the realization made something in his stomach boil -- Saihara leaned against the railing of his balcony, as he shouted, at the top of his lungs, not caring for who was watching or looking (through sobs, through his tears, though the heartbreak he felt and the overwhelming amount of love he beheld for the boy he called his love,) “KOKICHI! I LOVE YOU!”

Life carried on from that point, but not without the dawning lack of Ouma’s presence.

His daily living returned to normal, if you could even call it that. “Normal” was more fitting when Ouma was around. He had gotten so used to talking, so used to having to occupy Ouma’s line of attention, and being with him that suddenly the realization of how alone he was beforehand smacked him in the face, hard -- his life was relatively peaceful before Ouma. But it was boring. Saihara was once again filled with days of simply doing what he wished, when his princely duties didn’t call for anything else -- he returned to his previous schedule.

But he couldn’t quite focus on cases. It was that much more difficult, being left alone. Saihara talked to Amami again frequently like he had in the past, but his company couldn’t satisfy for Ouma’s -- Amami knew this from the beginning and could only tell him that what Ouma did was for the best of the both of them. Even if it was, it hurt Saihara.

Of course, the fact that Ouma had left was something that Saihara had to tell his father, expecting him to say something on the lines of “I knew he was only trouble.” But, catching him off guard, he did not -- instead, he simply mindlessly commented on how much of an interesting person he was, and how he did his job in the most unique way possible. Saihara’s father even admitted to liking Ouma, even a tiny bit.

The dreading days turned into weeks, and soon turned into months. Not a single day passed by where Saihara didn’t think of the mysterious, elusive enigma Kokichi Ouma. There were still so many questions he had of him, and still so many things left unanswered -- but he was sure that was the final mystery Ouma had left for him. Something about it told Saihara that Ouma expected him to figure it all out himself.

Although he was upset with Ouma’s leave, he couldn’t let it go for naught -- when asked questions of his performance for the daily paper, Saihara only admitted to him being an excellent retainer and a wonderful companion. Nobody suspected they had anything else, and life continued on quietly. Riverdem remained at peace ever since the missing prince mourning, having doing nothing about Acer’s participation, thankfully -- with some digging up, Saihara was able to find some information about some famous museums getting robbed in a country far from theirs. It was his only connection to Ouma, and Saihara couldn’t even guarantee it was him, but it was something.

Saihara and Kaede’s wedding was that winter, in January. The wedding was praised by all, and was meant to be a happy time -- people from both Acer and Primefield celebrated and attended, and it was a grand event. However, even throughout all of the cheering and congratulations, Saihara kept stealing glances from Amami -- their gazes to each other said enough about how Saihara felt about the whole situation. Kaede also seemed to be happy, but noticed how off he had been acting -- once they got some alone time at the party, she questioned, “What’s wrong, Shuuichi? You seem a little off today… were you nervous?”

“Ah… yeah,” Saihara agreed, lying through his teeth. “...It’s… well, this event… it’s been planned since we were twelve. Everyone’s excited…”

“...But you’re not,” Kaede finished. She smiled softly. “I’m always your friend, Shuuichi, but I could never be your wife. That’s just what this wedding means -- we’re married by the book, but my feelings for you haven’t changed. This is all for Acer and Primefield, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” Saihara once again agreed, finding no room for words. “...Kaede?”

“Hm?”

“Would you… no, nevermind,” Saihara began, but stopped. “...I need to just have a little time alone. Could you please do that?”

Kaede watched his expression, concerned, but reluctantly nodded -- Saihara made his way outside of the banquet room and into the courtyard of the castle. The wedding was held in Primefield, for having a bigger ballroom and event hall -- but Saihara found it easy to navigate his way into the garden. It was barren, as everyone was attending the wedding inside, allowing Saihara to saunter through the rows of shrubbery and flora. He stopped, dead-center in the garden, to look up at the sky.

The moon shone, proud of herself. In the stars, Saihara saw Taurus -- something Ouma had instructed and taught him how to find. Lifting his finger up, he traced the constellation, and moved onto a line of three stars. He smiled, fondly, melancholic, “...The one with the funny belt.”

“Orion.”

Saihara looked over his shoulder. A familiar smile shone under the moonlight.

“Nishishi~ we meet again, my prince.”

Chapter Text

The air outside was warm in Primefield.

Once again, Primefield was known well for it’s beautiful springs, where daisies and gardenias and other flowers of various shapes, sizes, and hues would bloom from healthy soil. Crops flourished happily, townsfolk were about, festivals were planned, trees were hearty in their greenness -- the kingdom of Primefield was in a frenzy that spring. Especially since they would be experiencing another royal wedding, and this time, everything seemed to hold more life -- more love. Everything from the invitations being sent to quite literally everyone in Acer and Primefield (decorated with quirky, bright colors) to the decorations and music that would be played.

These were Ouma Kokichi’s -- no, Akamatsu Kokichi’s -- wishes.

The night that Kokichi had shown up after his six or so months of absence, Saihara couldn’t find a moment where he could dry his soul from crying tears of joy. All the waterworks spilled out the moment he had set his eyes on the boy he claimed his lover those months ago, and as Saihara had stumbled into the open arms Kokichi had spread out after commenting of their remeeting. The prince of Primefield went into a state of shock -- his head didn’t move, but his legs had a mind of their own as they tried onto the smaller boy, and shook at his touch. It didn’t take very long for the both of them to find themselves sharing soft tears that evening in Primefield’s back gardens.

There were far too many things to settle out with Kokichi’s return. The thief had finally admitted to being ready to confess his relations to Acer, and his position as their missing prince -- Saihara could tell, as his normally purple tips were drained of their dye, now flaunting their blondes. Saihara had refused to let go of Kokichi the entire time the boy explained his plans to his lover -- either by hugging, hand-holding, or simply one laying against the other as they sat in each other’s company on a cold, marble bench. It had completely flown over Saihara’s head that Kokichi had returned the same evening he had married Kaede, and there were well anxieties that seeped through his expression that Kokichi was immediately prepared for.

“I saw you kiss Kaede,” Kokichi commented, causing Saihara to look at his true lover -- he had been holding his hand with the one where his newly polished, newly shined wedding ring was placed on. Saihara grew silent. “Nishishi. It looked much different compared to when you kiss me , y’know. You looked like a virgin all over again!”

“That’s because… I don’t love Kaede,” Saihara deduced, fairly quickly and sure of his reasoning -- with the warmth of Kokichi’s hand in his own, this was what he was sure of. “We only married to unite our kingdoms. You know that, Kokichi.”

“I do, I do. I’m not dumb,” Kokichi clarified, even though the both of them knew well he didn’t have to -- the thief scooted closer to his beloved prince, causing Saihara to grow more comfortable than not. “...Hey, Shuuichi. Kiss me.”

Saihara didn’t have to be asked twice. When he released, Ouma only let out his usual, mischievous giggle -- oh how Saihara had missed that sweet melody.

“...You meant that one. Don’t lie. I could feel it.”

There was a large bustle in Acer once Kokichi had stepped forth as their missing prince. Disbelief spread throughout the entire kingdom, and the surrounding Primefield and Riverdem -- everyone went absolutely insane over somebody presenting themselves as the missing prince, especially some months after the ceremony. It was even more ridiculous with the fact that it was Ouma Kokichi, the prior phantom thief and retainer to Prince Shuuichi Saihara, who went missing those six months. Theories went through the roof, the press went crazy, and everyone was thirsty for even a drop of information once the public had gotten its hands on it. Kaede’s parents had immediately denied this of Kokichi the moment he and Saihara had entered their throne room the day right after Kaede and Saihara’s wedding.

However, there was no evidence denying that Kokichi was Acer’s prince. Kokichi had surprisingly fessed up to more things than Saihara had initially thought -- including his reason for stealing from Acer Palace in the first place. He told his tale of being raised by an assassin (who, as an agreement, Kokichi refused to state the whereabouts of), craving to return to his royal lifestyle. The piece of evidence that had inevitably sealed the deal of his validity was the big birthmark on his nape -- matching photos of the baby’s from those sixteen years ago. There was no other possible way that confirmed Kokichi as the missing baby -- everything from his hair colors to his eye shade, to the birthmark and the overview of his history, with Saihara to back him up.

And thus, Ouma Kokichi became Akamatsu Kokichi.

That early winter, a ceremony was held for the coronation of the new prince. People from all over the country couldn’t believe such a radical, ridiculous turn of events -- some thought of Acer differently for their stupidity, others were just as surprised as Kaede’s parents. Regardless, Kokichi’s coronation was filled pew to pew with visitors, so many that the streets were overflowing with guests from around Primefield and Riverdem -- Saihara remembered seeing several groups on house roofs, even, just to witness the man who was once Acer’s most notorious thief become its yearned prince.

Due to the new circumstances, Kokichi couldn’t be there with him in his bed. Although Kaede had said that sharing a bed with her wouldn’t be seen as odd (as if it ever was,) Saihara couldn’t muster up the courage or heart to do so. This was when Kaede had noticed his off beatness, how anxious he was, how happier he seemed. She confronted him the night of the day of Kokichi’s coronation, the two settled with each other in the princess’s room -- cups of tea between them.

“You seem a lot happier,” Kaede started up, distracting Saihara from the liquid in his teacup. Her smile was just as warm as the hot tea. “Is it because Ouma -- er, I mean -- my brother… came back?”

“Ah… yeah,” Saihara managed to smile softly back. He realized, then, how insensitive that had to sound, especially to Kaede… who was now his wife. She seemed to already figure out how he felt about her in comparison to his past retainer. “I-I mean, um… you make me really happy too, Kaede. You’ve been my best friend for years.”

Kaede chuckled, “And best friends can read best friends. Honestly, Saihara, if you need to tell me something… then tell me. I won’t think of you any less, and something seems to be on your mind. Are… are you worried that Ouma won’t protect you anymore? You guys seem really close in that way.”

The choices came up, and Saihara had the option of either evading Kaede completely or telling her the truth. Well… Kokichi had told him that he was ready to reveal their secret to everyone now that he was the prince. He was ready to stop running away and hiding, and was ready for everyone to know his truths -- and if Kokichi, the enigma who sat upon a pile of lies, was ready to expose himself, then Saihara was just as ready. He gulped, nodding, “...Kaede. There… there is something I need to tell you, concerning your brother and I.”

“Please, Shuuichi,” Kaede’s tone softened -- she did this when she was persuading people, to make them more comfortable and at home. It certainly had that effect with Saihara. “Tell me.”

With his nerves collected, quite cluttered (but it would do for now), Saihara stammered out, barely able to, “I-I… I’m… I’m in love… with… with your… brother…”

Kaede dropped her teacup, which shattered to the floor.

The uproar that occurred once Kokichi, Saihara, and Kaede publically announced that Kaede’s status as Saihara’s spouse would be transferred to Kokichi would certainly allow Acer to become the most event filled kingdom of the year. And it was only February.

Among all of the death threats, the “that’s not Biblical!”s, the denies and the protests, and most of all, Kaede’s parent’s shock towards the entire situation (as they were not informed that the three would be making such a kingdom changing announcement), a burden was lifted off of Saihara’s chest. No longer did he have to hide from all of it, no longer did he have to look over his shoulder whenever he was with Kokichi or pretend that he was happily married to Kaede. No, that all changed the moment Kokichi had said to the people below him, “ I’ll be wed to Prince Shuuichi Saihara instead!”

Most of the very intense threats and protests died down within a month. There was no stopping the stubborn new prince, and although hate was still abroad in both Primefield and Acer, the ridicule died down after Kokichi and Saihara advocated their love for one another. Saihara had honestly expecting the opposite outcome -- that people would turn their heads, call him and Kokichi disgraces and disgusting and continue to whisper wonders if their early deaths. Amami’s own words, however, settled his heart, when he said, “People have begun to be supportive.”

“I’ve noticed,” Saihara smiled, in the comfort of his own room in Primefield. He was looking over more wedding papers -- this time, not dreading it at all. Kokichi had been taking a shower in his bathroom, singing at the top of his lungs something about someone saying he loved him. Saihara hoped it was directed towards him. “Why’s that, you think?”

“Why? Heh… it’s because you’re much happier now. Don’t you realize? Your people care about you to some extent too, milord,” Amami laughed soundly. “Even your mother and father acknowledge it, as dazed as they were with the news. Can’t blame them. I was the same way when I saw you having your little party in the sheets.”

“W-Wait, what!?” Saihara squealed. “You actually saw us having--”

“I’m joking, milord,” His laughter once again arose, and Saihara could only shake his head to smile back. He, too, noticed his increase in happiness.

“You seem to be happier these days as well. Anything exciting happen? Did one of your sisters also get a proposal?” Saihara questioned, a playful smile on his face. Amami’s own grin softened, shrugging as he collected an empty teacup from Saihara’s desk.

“No. You aren’t the only one with secrets, you know. I should consult the lady I fancy,” Amami mused, heading towards the door -- Saihara’s jaw cracked open at the sound of Amami having a lady he fancied. Before he could pump out the question of “who?”, Amami was already halfway out the door. “I’m sure at least Kirumi would agree with hiding some scandals.”

Saihara’s face was blank of emotion as he allowed the realization to sink in -- the realization that he knew Amami, yet not at all.

The wedding day, that spring, had finally dawned upon them. Kokichi had been pestering Saihara to no end about quite literally every little detail, speck, spot, color, decoration -- claiming this would be his perfect day. And Saihara couldn’t quite say no to him, as much as it may have annoyed him here and there. After all, Kokichi had burdened such a hard life in his past, and he deserved a nice day. He deserved a perfect day. Saihara would try his damndest to give it to him if it was the last thing he ever did. As a result, Saihara had been bombarded with task after task, usually confirming or denying a choice that hired wedding planners (the best around) offered to the prince. Despite having no close friends, Kokichi had also demanded he have a “bachelorette” party -- Saihara had questioned who’d come. Kokichi claimed that’s only for the bride to know. (Saihara had eventually found out it was just him and Kaede catching up on missed sibling time.)

The biggest event hall in Primefield Palace, the same one where Saihara and Kaede were wed with one another, would be reserved for Kokichi and Saihara’s wedding. Whilst the previous wedding was held during the late evening, Kokichi had decided for it to begin in the afternoon, when the sun was shining and high, and the stained glass in the hall could shower the room in colors of all sorts of hues and shades. Everyone could bask in the idea of them being diverse, different, and themselves. Saihara couldn’t complain about that idea. Amami, his best man (again), helped him (again) into his wedding suit that morning.

While the maids and servants hurried themselves to make sure every part of his outfit was cleaned of any speck and flattened of every crease, Saihara wondered how Kokichi was handling the entire situation. Saihara could never forget his face from the night prior -- the look of pure, sweet joy that riddled every single corner and crevice. There was nothing but love when he had bid Saihara a good night, and the two kissed each other, unashamed, in the hallway where they would have to part to their respective rooms. Saihara had somehow managed to convince Kokichi to sleep in separate rooms that night -- he assumed he had been convinced due to the ability of being able to surprise Saihara.

That was Kokichi. Full of surprises. Saihara would never get tired of it, definitely.

When he arrived at the altar, the wedding to begin in only fifteen minutes, there were far less people in comparison to his and Kaede’s wedding -- which was understandable. Although there was support for their relationship, it was countered by the amount of hate they received, which was more prevalent in Acer in comparison to Primefield. After all, Saihara had technically dumped Kaede, their devoted and wonderful princess, for the new, still not trusted prince who was once his retainer and a phantom thief. It was all understandable to Saihara, and he couldn’t do much more than appreciate the people that were in attendance. As Saihara stood patiently waiting for his best man, Amami, who had unintentionally abandoned his side to make conversation with Tojo (who was here with Kaede, who was probably in the ladies room as her spot was emptied), to finish up so that they could head to the entrance, a familiar voice called out.

“Heya champ! Big day for you and our boy, huh?” Saihara whirled his head to the side, and saw just who he expected -- Momota, his hair in a neater do compared to his previous, radical choice, and dressed in formal wear. Beside him was Harukawa, her hair pulled into a graceful French braid in comparison to the two pigtails he had seen when he first met her. She looked much more ladylike. “How’re you, Saihara? You glad to see us?”

“Very,” Saihara grinned back, stepping towards them as Momota put out his hand. Saihara solemnly shook it. “Er… sorry I didn’t ask for your son’s hand in marriage. He sort of… wanted to on the whim.”

“Exactly like him. I didn’t expect any less,” Harukawa replied coldly, yet there was a soft smile on her face. “...This outfit is stiff. If I have to sit here watching Kokichi get married only for you to divorce him in less than 48 hours, then expect to be on my hit list.”

“Erk--!! Ahaha, I-I wouldn’t do that to Kokichi…,” Saihara reassured, eyeing the invitation in Momota’s hand. It was a light purple shade -- signifying an important guest that’d be sitting in the very front pew. “Ah, you can take a seat over there. Thank you again, er… for raising Kokichi…”

Saihara hadn’t initially intended to say thank you -- he just felt like it was necessary, Momota gave him a complacent smile, “And thank you for makin’ his dreams come true.” As Momota and Harukawa were to take their seats, Saihara recalled something extremely important regarding the two -- he quickly stopped them.

“Ah, wait--” Saihara called out, as the two looked behind themselves. Saihara smiled. “Come with me.”

The wedding bells rung at exactly 12 PM sharp, and just as they ended, it was the musicians’ queue for the traditional wedding march. Starting off with a bellow of trumpets, the well-known song rung throughout the entire event hall as the trumpets faded into organs and violins, a softer symphony to accommodate the entrance of those in relation to the grooms. With Amami and several other groomsmen in tow, he made his way down the aisle while spectators looked on with supportive smiles on their faces. Something in Saihara’s heart reminded him that they were the ones who knew how happy he was, in comparison to his previous wedding.

As Saihara and his men reached the altar, he observed his parents walking down. They looked tired and worn from so many years of peaceful ruling, but they gave their son their second pair of joyful grins for his wedding -- this time, Saihara genuinely smiled back, and hoped he could deliver how happy this had all made him. Harukawa, in her said-to-be stiff dress, was next to stroll down the carpet, unused to so much attention on her -- it would be painfully known that, since she was not the Queen of Acer, she had to be Ouma’s adopted mother. Saihara had guaranteed her and Kaito’s protection from Riverdem if they sought them out

Some workers of Primefield Palace piled in as grooms brides, looking obviously highly pleased with being in their position. Kokichi had told Saihara they were his “girls”, and that they supported him from time to time while he worked his own silent odd jobs around the castle back when he was Saihara’s retainer. Kaede followed suit as the Maid of Honor, shining happily and gracefully as such rather than the bride itself -- she, too, looked much more content with this role rather being the one behind the veil. Skipping along at her following were two of Amami’s sisters, dressed happily in luxurious clothing -- one throwing petals around at every inch she could find, and another fumbling with the pillow that held the two rings meant for their marriage.

With the important attendants cleared, finally came Kokichi -- Momota at his side, leading him by the arm. What Saihara saw shocked him so badly, into a pit of happy surprise, that he found himself beginning to cry.

Kokichi was dressed in a suit, yet not one at all -- the pants were cuffed, and the tailcoat to his jacket swirled out, strongly imitating a bride’s dress. His tie was checkered black and white, while everything else on his body pertained true to the snow color that he was so used to wearing -- it was miraculous that he never stained anything. In his hands, a bouquet of white and red roses, and the most enchanting smile, opaque behind a long veil that Kokichi chose to don. Saihara could feel Amami’s hand on his shoulder as he turned away from the sight of Kokichi drawing closer, the biggest, grin on his face as the tears only streamed harder.

Saihara vaguely heard Kokichi and Momota’s conversation, but the best he could make out was snickers from the two of them. When Amami removed his hand from his shoulder and instead placed it on his back, it was Saihara’s signal to finally look up -- Kokichi was only a foot or two in front of him, the bouquet of roses being their barrier. He had to take another moment to compose himself as the music died down, and there was silence as everyone in the room waited for Saihara to say something past the quiet tears he was shedding over how overwhelming everything was.

When his vision cleared, Kokichi was still there -- his eyes just as bright as they always were, even behind the veil. There was nothing that would stop Saihara from craving that look of absolute love for the other boy. At that moment and forever onwards, he promised himself that he would never, ever let any harm come to those eyes -- to Kokichi. As long as they were wed, as long as they were together, as long as Saihara could call him his, then he would sacrifice himself any day for him. Any day. Saihara cleared his throat, stuttering, “K-Kokichi…”

That was all that was needed for the ceremony to start. Kokichi’s bouquet of flowers was passed onto Harukawa as the two stepped an inch closer, their hands now gracefully intertwined. It was quite the sight to see -- a man, dressed in bold black from head to toe, and another man, gracefully sewn to the seems with the color of heaven. Saihara was still teary eyed, but managed to plow through the words of the priest with the stability of only Kokichi’s gaze -- it was the one thing that was supporting him, preventing him from breaking out into tears of happiness again. With some time passing, the moment of confirmation finally came about -- Saihara could tell Kokichi was excited. His fingers trembled in his own as the ring bearer gifted Ouma with the ring to slip onto Saihara’s finger.

“Prince Kokichi Akamatsu, do you take Prince Shuuich Saihara, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part, as your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest inquired, looking up at Kokichi. Kokichi’s smile was refreshingly honest -- a combination of love and excitement and greatness and everything else.

“I, Kokichi Akamatsu, take you, Shuuichi Saihara, to be my lawfully wedded husband... to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health… until death do us part,” Kokichi caught his breath -- he had obviously been practicing that line, for so, so long. “In other words, I do!”

A laughter rang throughout the event hall, and even the priest cracked a smile while the ring bearer held out the ring, which Saihara slipped onto Kokichi’s finger. This time, it was a perfect fit. The pastor turned to Saihara, asking the prince the same of him, for Kokichi, who kept looking at him with those sparkly eyes. That was what made Saihara’s speech crack into, “I, Shuuichi Saihara, take you, Kokichi Akamatsu, to be my wa ffley wedded… ah, wait…”

An even larger laughter roared through the event hall, and Kokichi’s previously gentle gaze turned humorous -- he laughed, “This isn’t a breakfast, Shuuichi!” Kokichi’s comment only allowed for more laughter -- Momota was cracking up, Harukawa had an amused grin, Kaede was giggling… behind him, Saihara could even hear Amami huffing a pleased chuckle. Ah… this was certainly a Kokichi kind of wedding. Quietly, Kokichi whispered to him, “Thinking about the syrup already? Nishishi~ you’re nasty, my beloved prince. I’m waiting until marriage for that.”

“Yes, I know…,” Saihara laughed and blushed, shaking his head before composing himself. Kokichi never ceased to be able to fluster him, even with his silliest comments. “Alright… um… I, Shuuichi Saihara, take you, Kokichi Akamatsu, to be my lawfully wedded husband... to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health… until death do us part. I do.”

“You may now kiss the groom.”

With those words, gently, Saihara removed one of the hands that held one of Kokichi’s and instead used it to delicately remove his veil -- revealing his entire countenance, the first Saihara had gazed upon that entire day. If it had not been established before, it had now -- Kokichi was definitely the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. The most mysterious person he had ever gotten to know. The biggest enigma upon lies and lies -- and yet, here he was. All to himself. All his. Saihara expected Kokichi to attack him in his own kiss, but instead, surprisingly, he simply closed his eyes and waited.

He wouldn’t let him wait any longer.