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The palace, during the day, is an artful mix of off white panes and reddish brown wood structure, framing the walls supportively. Paintings, sliding doors, tatami mats in rooms.
At night, Hifumi could only see the small pieces of the images revealed by the candle he held, shaky with excitement.
Sneaking around, walking near the walls so he made the least amount of noise possible, he once again tries to follow the clues he’s been gathering.
He knows he’s a little too old to be doing things like this now, but it wasn’t his fault that despite being an adult, he was never allowed outside. It’s only natural that he’d chase after any bit of color that fell into his monochrome life.
Well, Hifumi thinks, hand placed on a wall as he walks, part of this is my fault, but not really, it’s not like he could help the fact that he developed a fear of women, logically he knew that. Sometimes, though, he can’t help but want to jab at himself for it. If it wasn’t like that, he wouldn’t have to spend his days in boredom. Maybe he could have gotten married, even, making his parents proud for once.
...but that’s really not a good line of thought, he always recognizes, and he smothers it to the best of his ability. Tonight, maybe it’s easier, because he has something to occupy himself with for once — And that would be meeting the mysterious author that seemed to be residing in the palace for around an year now.
It blows Hifumi’s mind to think that he’s never seen that guy. He probably should have expected something when a lot more stuff to read started showing up in the library, good stories too, better than most he’s read. Was he deliberately being kept from seeing him? Hifumi had no idea. He’s spent the week hunting for hints since Doppo slipped up about his existence, though, and now that he had a vague idea of the man’s schedule he would talk to him, he meant that.
“Hey, Hi~fu~min! What are you doing up this late?”
… and mid his graceful planning, Hifumi jumps with a barely contained squeak, heart attempting to leap out of his chest.
He looks behind him. “R-Ramuda! Good evening!” Thankfully, it’s just Ramuda, the family’s, and most notably his, longtime personal tailor, strolling the hallways with a candle in hand. The greeting is botched from him being startled, but it’s okay if it’s Ramuda. He wouldn’t tell his father about... most unsightly behavior. “I, um, I got hungry, so I was gonna get something to eat from the kitchen. Sorry, please don’t tell dad!”
Ramuda also carries a candle. He has no business being up this late, too, but one of the many things Hifumi’s been taught in his life was that sometimes, he shouldn’t ask questions. Ramuda’s mischievous blue eyes certainly were an interrogation repellent. “Bad Hifumin, you know it’s dangerous to walk alone so late. The palace is super big, you never know what can happen. Not that the guards aren’t great, but y’know.” He informs, unoccupied hand on his hip. “But, well, if you wanna get something to eat, let your best friend Ramuda walk you to the kitchen!”
“O-Of course! Thanks, Ramuda…” He replies, the mix of fake enthusiasm and initial jumpscare adrenaline dying down. The tailor offers him a smile. The second he turns his back to him, Hifumi sighs.
Well, he guessed now his plans had gone down the drain, since Ramuda would be watching over him and possibly escorting him to his room too. He would ask him about the mystery man, but Ramuda could only do so much, and if he hadn’t heard of said man for so long, it may have been his father’s choice, so…
Maybe there was something dangerous about him? He swallows when the thought crosses his mind. The curiosity gnaws continuously at him, mind bombarded with these insistent questions that just became more meaningless by the second.
It takes a while to get to the kitchen. Hifumi wasn’t even hungry, but maybe he could find something good around there, and maybe that would make his night just a little less disappointing. Maybe. He watches the hem of Ramuda’s kimono, the unorthodox peachy tones, as he’s directed towards the place.
And when he does, almost as if fate answered his pleas, Ramuda’s candle casts a glow that reveals a third, unfamiliar figure in the kitchen, a barely seen silhouette in the dark.
“Oh, I caught Gentaro being sneaky with food too?” Ramuda giggles. It’s during these first seconds that Hifumi is just confused. He’s never heard of any Gentaros working in the palace, and he can’t quite make out how the man looks, but he can tell he’s never seen him at all. It takes him a moment of prying into his own memories — Until he puts the pieces of the puzzle together, and realizes.
His breath hitches with discovery, lighting up from finally some sort of novelty, an answer, and his eyes become laser-focused on the man. He needed to talk to him.
“Ah, it seems I’ve been caught.” Gentaro chuckles, a light and elegant reminding him of early autumn winds. Are they friends? Hifumi’s mind demands answers, silent. Does this Gentaro know whose presence he's in? He almost doesn’t want to make himself known, ruin the light atmosphere with rituals and formalities. “What are you doing here at this time, hm?”
Hifumi doesn’t have much time to respond, as Ramuda begins speaking soon after. “I was just walking him to the kitchen!” He chirps. “Speaking of which, can you take him back to his room, pretty please? I have some stuff I gotta take care of, urgent!”
Gentaro hums in acknowledgement. “Of course, I hope the rest of your night goes well.” Hifumi can see him smile slightly even in the low lighting.
“Awesome! Thanks so much!” And Ramuda bows quickly and leaves, taking his brighter candle, and their wods, along with him.
He’s left with Gentaro in the dark and silence. Something about the conversation doesn’t sit with him, but before he can dwell on it, he hears —
“What are you waiting for, your highness?” He queries, the one to break the lack of sound. “Help yourself. I won’t tell your father, it’s a promise.”
Ah, yes, his poor lie.
“I, actually, um,” Hifumi begins, then two pieces connect in his mind once more. “Wait a second, how do you know I’m— Ramuda didn’t say anything…”
Gentaro looks directly at him. A mysterious silhouette in a room difficult to distinguish. What color were his eyes, Hifumi wonders, and there’s this latent awareness that there was something just off about this situation.
The idea of danger comes back to mind and doesn’t leave, but he finds himself unwilling to do anything about the situation. Surely it couldn’t be that bad, yeah?
“With all due respect, your highness, it’s obvious I’d know who you are. I work for you, after all. I’ve been writing the works you read.” He explains, words flowing easily. He’s very well dressed, Hifumi makes out the shapes of a haori with his eyes, family crests in the right places. Gentaro was a man that looked as elegant as he sounded.
“Um, I know that. But we’ve never met.” Is all Hifumi can say. There are a lot of strange things about this situation, actually. Gentaro isn’t talking to him like he’s a superior, first of all, which he doesn’t mind — In fact, he prefers it this way, but he’s never told Gentaro about this preference.
“Ah, that is true. My apologies, I shouldn’t act like this in my first true meeting with the daimyo’s son.” Gentaro bows, but there’s no change to the lilt in his voice. “To make up for it, may I take you out for a walk? You aren’t here to actually get something to eat, are you?”
“Um, no.” Hifumi answers, voice small. This was getting stranger by the second. The pace of his heart quickens. “I mean, I’d love to, but my father…”
His heart skips a beat. This could definitely be bad, he’s not naive enough to not catch on to the dubious behavior. An untrusted servant looking to isolate a nobleman was never good news. He’s been taught on paper and in practice.
“Don’t worry about him, your highness. I merely intend to entertain you for a couple minutes.” Gentaro complements. “You seem as though you need some...enrichment, I believe.”
And what was Ramuda’s involvement with everything? He can’t forget he was the one to essentially hand him over to this stranger.
“Well, I guess it’s fine, then.” Hifumi shrugs. “Where are you taking me?”
“That’s a surprise.”
Gentaro doesn’t break eye contact for a second, and one of his hands wrap around Hifumi’s wrist while the other goes for the candle. Hifumi’s eyes widen slightly. Who was this man?
“You’re pretty good at guessing what I’m thinking about.” He blurts out the comment, as hushed as he can, while they cross a hallway. Gentaro’s sleeve brushes against his, he feels sparks.
“It’s an odd talent of mine. Call it a liar’s intuition.” He responds, Hifumi staring at the back of his head. He has rather light brown hair, he notes. Something about it just keeps him staring. “A storyteller is but a paid liar.”
“Mm, I guess, if you put it like that.” Hifumi murmurs. He feels the grip around his wrist grow a little stronger. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost. Be patient, your highness, the wait will be worth it.” There’s a chuckle, short but melodic, and Hifumi shuts his mouth. He feels the tips of his ears burn.
He feels like these heroines from the stories he reads, some of which may have been produced by this Gentaro himself, pulled away from the monotony of their daily life to be thrown into sudden conflict and adventure.
“Here we are. I hope you enjoy the setting, your highness.”
They stop abruptly, Hifumi almost tripping on his feet, not noticing how fast they had been walking — God, they must have been so noisy — his arm released, a door slid open.
His eyes feast on the image of the outside garden, a vacant spot near the pond, surrounded with greenery and cherry trees that bathed in the full moon’s glow.
Hifumi’s complaints die on the tip of his tongue, eyes going wide.
The wonder takes over him for a second. His footsteps are cautious, a couple of them until he’s touching grass instead of the palace’s floor. He could see so many stars in the sky from here. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen.
“How did you find this place? I’ve never… been here.” He turns his back to look at Gentaro — And suddenly he sees him in such definition, features now revealed. Soft brown hair, green eyes that are catlike, but gentle, a dignified smile and dignified clothes, a painting colored in purple, white and black.
Gentaro walks closer, still smiling. Graceful unlike any other man, polished, elegant, and decorated all over with that air of intrigue that kept Hifumi drawn to him. “Working here has its perks.” Is the only reply he offers, and Hifumi readily accepts it.
“It’s really beautiful.” He says, looking up at the sky again. It’s like the constellations greet him gently, nothing short of magical.
“Do you think so?” Gentaro asks, from behind him, his voice had inched closer. Hifumi keeps marveling at the moon, he swears it reminds him of something he’s read, now.
“Yeah, it’s just so…” He begins. The words keep failing him. What was it, exactly? He turns to look at Gentaro again — And he’s close.
Hifumi’s heart skips a beat.
“What is it, your highness?” He asks. Hifumi loses what little sentences he’s gathered. He can’t quite see where the author’s hands were now, but… “You know, you shouldn’t spare your words, even if you don’t know how to present them quite yet. You may never be able to say them again, after all. That’s a creed I live by, as a writer.”
He smiles slightly as he talks. Hifumi understood so far that it was a common Gentaro smile, followed by the quiet chuckles, fitting his overall expression. There’s something about the way all of him comes together under the night sky. From his face to his clothing, his voice to his eyes, carrying so much yet so little expression. Planned words and cloaked emotions.
And the allure of novelty and danger and just beauty calls for him with a pull unlike any other.
“It’s beautiful like you,” He blurts out. “And…and you’re really, really beautiful.”
Gentaro’s face changes. Suddenly, the smile turns into something blank, empty shock, even. Hifumi instantly regrets what he said, embarrassed heat crawling up his neck.
“Um, I mean.” He mutters. Oh, he’s ruined this, hadn’t he? He can’t look into Gentaro’s eyes now. “Aha, sorry, I’m not good with words like you.”
“N...No, you just caught me by surprise.” Gentaro murmurs. A different tone, Hifumi notices. He avoids staring back into his eyes. “I… that’s high praise coming from you, your highness. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Hifumi fiddles with his sleeves, looking down. What does he even say now? He notices Gentaro taking a step back, previously hidden away hands now clearly visible by his sides.
The air changes. It’s lighter to breathe, but he hadn’t even noticed that it was heavier before.
“I...I’m sorry, I believe I should go now. Have a good night.” The author quickly says, and before Hifumi can have the last word, he turns around and disappears, just like that.
A strange man, Hifumi thinks.
Standing by himself in the garden, he remembers how the writer was meant to escort him back into his room.