Chapter Text
King Oikawa Tooru was the most beautiful man in the world.
Every morning, just to make sure of this fact, he made his voyage to the hidden underground levels of Aoba Johsai’s palace. The passages here were labyrinthine and lined with countless doors; some locked, some gaping and empty. Tooru made his way to the heart of the palace, the very deepest room. It was quite small, considering the various treasures it housed. Most of them collected dust in heaps by the shadowed periphery, but the large, oval mirror in the wall commanded attention.
Tooru adjusted the long, black cape over his shoulders as he ascended the steps to stand before it. The pristine glass radiated a dim, pale green light that reflected off the elegant scrollwork frame and cast the room in ominous shadow. He took just a moment to study his reflection: smooth, glowing pale skin, bright eyes framed with long lashes, and glossy chocolate hair that framed his face just so. Perfect, as usual. Tempted though he was to continue preening, this mirror had a different purpose. Taking a deep breath, he raised his arms and prepared to cast the spell.
“Slaves in the magic mirror,
Come from the farthest space,
Through wind and darkness, I summon thee! Speak!
Let me see your faces.”
At the end of his incantation, Tooru’s reflection was replaced with a column of raging fire; in seconds, it died down to reveal the familiar faces of two wearied, young men.
“Do you have to do that every time?” said the dark-haired one in a long-suffering monotone.
“Don’t try to play me, Mattsun!” Tooru reprimanded. “I know better than to misspeak my summonings and set two djinn loose in my palace.”
“Fine,” said Makki, the brown-haired one. “What do you want? Same old, same old?”
Tooru pouted before casting the second spell. “Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”
He expected their wearied response of, “You, obviously. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that…”
But instead, the djinn hesitated. They shared a glance, quirked their eyebrows, hummed a bit. Fear crawled up Tooru’s spine and rooted him to the ground. It couldn’t be…it can’t be…
“The fairest one of all…” Makki said, drawing the words out as though he were pondering it. “The very fairest? As in, the most beautiful in all the land?”
“Yes, obviously!” Tooru yelled. He wasn’t enjoying the smirk on Makki’s face one bit.
“No prizes for second place?” Mattsun asked.
So that confirmed it: Tooru had lost his position. The blood in his veins ran cold.
“Who is it?” he seethed.
“I see…a young boy,” said Makki, and Tooru had a sinking feeling he wasn’t referring to his boyish charm. “With lips red as blood, hair black as ebony, and skin white as snow.”
The familiar description hit Tooru like a slap to the face.
“Tobio.” He gasped. The name tasted like poison on his tongue.
“Indeed,” Makki affirmed. “Your stepson has surpassed you.”
Of course. Of course it had to be Kageyama Tobio.
“Shit!” Tooru yelled. He unfastened his cape and tried to throw it in his rage, but it was so bulky and heavy that it just pooled at his feet in a heap of velvet and ermine. He kicked it, and that seemed slightly more effective. “Shit, shit! He’s fourteen years old, how the fuck is he the most beautiful already?!”
Mattsun didn’t have shoulders, but Tooru got the distinct sense that he shrugged. “Dunno. Just seems to be born that way.”
His tone was apathetic, not insulting, but the words made Tooru burn with rage. The Crown Prince’s looks had been extolled all his life: first, as the cutest baby ever born, then as the loveliest boy, and now—apparently—he was the fairest of them all.
“H-has he been stealing my beauty potions?” Tooru stammered. He felt like he was scrambling for purchase on a sheer cliffside.
“No,” Makki said. “But you already knew that.”
The djinni was right. Tooru triple-checked his potion inventory everyday, and nothing was missing. His cauldron room had multiple locks—both mundane and magical—in addition to round-the-clock guards; even if Tobio were particularly bright (which he wasn’t), he didn’t have a chance of getting in.
“Not fair!” he screamed, punctuating his words with more kicks to his favourite cape. He was going to regret that later, but for now, he didn’t care. “Why does he just get to be born with everything?!”
“The world has never been fair,” Mattsun supplied. “Why does it surprise you now?”
Tears pricked at Tooru’s eyes. Because I worked harder, he wanted to say. I’m the one who left everything I knew to study my ass off. I’m the one who worked long hours over steaming cauldrons, and burned my throat downing potion after potion—but it was worth it, because I would win. But now I’ve lost. And he never even had to try.
He didn’t voice any of those thoughts, however. Tooru doubted the djinn would understand or care about such human matters, let alone show him sympathy.
Tooru drew several long, shaky breaths until his eyes felt mostly dry. “Where is he.” He demanded, his voice colder and steadier than he’d expected.
The image in the mirror rippled and the djinns’ faces disappeared. In their place was the image of Tooru’s blasted stepson, chatting with someone at a well instead of scrubbing the garden walkways like Tooru had told him to. Tooru scowled, then noticed that Tobio looked like he was arguing.
“Who is he talking to?” Tooru asked.
The image expanded to reveal a young, very short boy with orange hair. Tooru furrowed his brows.
“Is…is that a dwarf?” he asked.
“Yes.” Makki replied.
“But—” Tooru stammered. “I don’t employ any dwarves!”
“Yeah, he broke in.” Makki said.
“He what?!” Tooru squawked.
“We were going to tell you,” Mattsun added. “But it seemed like you needed a moment.”
“I—” Tooru turned around to face his door. “Guards!” he yelled, hoping it was loud enough to carry through the walls. He turned back to the mirror, incredulous. “You guys are the worst security ever!”
“Not as bad as your watchmen, apparently,” Mattsun countered, and Makki chuckled.
Tooru threw his hands up and groaned in exasperation before running out.