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He was of royalty. Like the descendant of a God, an almighty divinity with limitless awe-inspiring features and traits. Just being in his presence felt as if it was a stroke of luck, or a true blessing. He was of royalty. His bearing could make one elude their own devices just to acknowledge. Like a bright addition of color being incorporated into a dull scenery. Or a new, refreshing instrumental that improved a predictable melody ten-fold. He was of royalty. His very being was so distinct that those who harbored the pleasure of being by his side appeared only dreary and drab in comparison. And the times where stealing gazes to fuel a day’s worth of dreams was not enough to satisfy the desire to better appreciate his existence, one could simply turn to the works of art created in his name to admire. He was to be admired. He was a star whose light fostered a lustrous glow, and shined bright enough to irradiate each and every onlooker who sought to nourish and prosper greatly from his reign. He was of royalty, yet at this very moment, it seems as if he does not wish to be treated as such.
“Lift your head.” He speaks, his voice like a fluid resonance that takes it’s time to resound on ears. There is a tiredness that asserts itself in his command, his command which he refuses to repeat.
Sawamura ceases his kneeling and raises his head. He does not look directly at him, but at the two large men who stand on both sides of him. If they were to come together, where their arms touch, they would form a defensive wall, good for protecting a treasure that is the prince. Though he could be considered an outsider, he means no harm. To think he never imagined he would ever run into a prince, much less be perceived as a threat.
“Forgive m-”
A hand is raised, and he is silent. The prince saunters forward, he’s close to Sawamura for a moment before he moves past him, and stands in front of his cart that resides on the side of the dirt road. The men beside him, do not move, but watch Sawamura with wary stares as he watches the prince.
“Do tell commoner, does this belong to you?”
“Aye,”
“Merchant?”
“Peddler.” He corrects.
“Is it not the same?”
“I am quite certain most merchants have a home to return to, I however, do not.”
“Mhm.” The prince responds, placing a hand on the cart as he inspects it further.
“Is there something of interest, sire?”
“I cannot,” He starts in a low mumble. “For the life of me, name any of the items that live on this cart. Tell me, peddler, are you sure you do not promote the sale of garbage?”
Sawamura gapes, taking offense, but recovers quickly enough to answer.
“Nay, prince. It is not garbage that takes space on my cart, but articles of magic.”
“Magic, you say?” He turns to face him with a look of interest.
“Aye.”
The prince crosses his arms and steps back. “Then sell to me, one of your items of magic.”
It takes a moment for Sawamura to process what he means, but the faint anticipation in the prince’s eyes let him know what he is to do. The men look at the prince questioningly, but do not voice their concerns. They too, watch Sawamura with expectancy.
Sawamura clears his throat and shuffles over to his cart. He takes a deep breath, and grins.
“How now, fair prince!” He begins, loudly. “A stroke of fate it is, that we cross paths on this very day. But it is you who are in luck, for in this cart I hold wonders not known to this town, to this country! Dare I say. From the farthest of lands, from the deepest of waters, from the highest of mountains and tallest of grass come the most astounding and rare items man has yet to lay eyes on.” He holds his arms out in a presentational manner, and the prince could do nothing to force back his becoming smirk at Sawamura’s suddenly animated behavior.
“In this cart holds secrets, uncommon irregularities that I will share with you today. Behold.” He says, gesturing to the cart once more. The reason the prince could not make himself familiar with the items on the cart, was that none of them are from lands he can recall. This fact alone, made him much more inclined to believe that the words Sawamura speaks are true. Toys, trinkets, baubles and ornaments, flowers, clothes, and proclaimed works of art, the peddler lists them all. There was no break in his string of words, and the pauses he took were solely for enhancement and effect.
The prince smiles and watches with amusement as Sawamura performs. Yes performs, because no matter how authentic and natural he sounds, it was clear his sales pitch was rehearsed. Repeated time and time again to convince those around him that what he has to sell, was unmatched against all others.
“Hear now, prince. I show to you an item I have yet to reveal to simple townsfolk.”
“Oh? So what does that make of me? The very first to witness one of your newest rarities?”
“Aye!”
“I am both honored and intrigued, continue.” The prince looks as if he is waiting to be impressed, and Sawamura senses a bit of doubt. He will clear it at once.
From the cart he picks up a small, glass bottle which concealed a murky purple liquid.
“In this bottle holds a drink that allows one to see spirits.” Sawamura says, holding it out to him.
“Spirits, you say?” The prince replies, taking the bottle to get a closer look. “Such as ghosts?”
“Aye, and everything of the sort.”
“You lie.”
“I do not spout lies, fair prince. These lips only utter that of truth and nothing more.” Sawamura assures.
“Just one drink, and I will see spirits?”
“Aye!”
“You are certain of this?”
“Aye!”
The prince takes the top off the bottle and brings it up to his lips, but stops to give Sawamura a final look. He narrows his gaze.
“Dare say ‘aye’ once more.”
Sawamura returns the gaze and smirks, placing a confident hand on his hip. “Aye.”
The prince looks back at the bottle, and before he gets a chance to taste the mysterious liquid, Sawamura clears his throat and holds out a hand, with audacious expectancy.
The prince turns to one of his two guards. “Pay him.”
“Prince Miyuki, surely you can not be serious-”
“Pay him at once, I wish to confirm his claims about this spirit drink.” He orders, and his stubbornness is unfitting.
The guards say nothing more, and pay Sawamura, placing a few gold coins in his palm.
Miyuki finally takes a sip of the drink, no sooner than he does this, he turns away with a cough and winces.
The guards tense, and Sawamura backs away. “It is a bit strong.” He warns too late, placing his hands behind his back.
“Mhm.” Miyuki hands the drink over one of his guards, and adjusts his glasses.
“Where are they?”
“What?”
“The spirits? Where do they lurk?”
“Surely you do not believe they wander about the roads and towns freely, your highness. For even the strongest of spirits must stay confined to buildings and areas which they harbor a liking to.”
“Have you seen these spirits?”
“Of course, sire.”
“Swear on your tongue, for if falseness hides in the truths you speak, I reserve the right to cut it out.” He is serious for a moment, but a smile breaks through his threatening facade, he is merely bluffing.
However, Sawamura feels a sudden rush of nervousness at his words, for everything he has said so far was indeed a lie, a ruse to make money. He does not know that the prince simply jokes, so he hesitates and answers:
“I swear.”
Miyuki laughs inwardly at the expression on Sawamura’s face.
“Tell me, peddler. What is your name?”
“Sawamura Eijun.”
“Sawamura, will you be here tomorrow, or have I caught you amidst your leave?”
“Nay, there is an inn I plan to stay for a fortnight. This town is quite large.”
“I see, then tomorrow, will you meet me here, in this spot?”
He raises an inquiring brow. “Aye, but tell me, fair prince, what is it that you wish to say on the morrow, than right this moment?”
Miyuki turns away, and readies his leave. “I will not say, just make your presence known when I return.” He begins to walk off, leaving Sawamura to scratch his in confusion as he watches him go.
.
.
.
Sawamura sits at the side of the road with his cart and waits. He tugs at his garments he put on specifically for the prince. It was one of the nicer outfits of his wardrobe, for what was worn yesterday was so dingy in comparison, it was a surprise he did not offend him. His more appealing outerwear consisted of a white blouse complemented by a ruby red vest, comfortable buskins pants and matching shoes.
He sees the prince approaching and immediately gets to his feet, dusting off any clinging dirt. The guards that stood beside him yesterday, do not appear. Instead, a teen of a slightly smaller frame is by his side. He has a faint look of intimidation, which lead Sawamura to believe he is a guard of some sort. However, the nice clothing he wears has his thoughts conflict.
“Sawamura,” The prince says as soon as he close enough. “This is an acquaintance of mine. His father is a grand duke.”
“Ah!” He bows in apology for his poor assumption. The other simply raises a brow and shrugs in response, turning away.
“Kazuya,” He says. “What is it that you wanted to show me?”
Miyuki simply points to the cart beside Sawamura.
He frowns. “A cart filled with garbage?”
“It is not garbage!” Sawamura defends, but hearing the unnecessary incline of volume in his own voice makes him shrink back a bit. “Ah, forgive me, but this cart does not hold useless rubbish.”
“I am finding that hard to believe.” The other replies, and Miyuki grins. When Sawamura sees this, he believes to be insulted, and frowns.
“Sawamura! Sell Youichi your spirit drink.” He orders with a wave of his hand.
“Spirit drink?” Youichi questions.
“Mhm, one sip will have you seeing ghosts.”
“You jest.” He says incredulously.
“I do not, Sawamura, show him.”
He stares at both of them for a moment, then moves over to his cart. He clears his throat and begins:
“How now! Son of grand duke! It is a stroke of fate that we-”
“Please, just show him the drink.”
Sawamura does as he’s told and pulls out a bottle similar to the one he had given to Miyuki, and holds it out to his acquaintance.
Miyuki nudges Youichi’s side, and the other pulls out some coins from his pocket. He hands it to Sawamura in exchange for the bottle.
“One sip is all it takes?”
Miyuki nods. “However, if you consume all the contents in the bottle, you can see demons and angels as well.”
“Really?”
Sawamura’s eyes go wide at the claim, not once did he mention anything of that sort. He opens his mouth to speak, but when Miyuki places a finger to his lips, he ceases.
“I swear as far as my eyes can see, my friend.” He assures.
“But your eyesight is poor.”
“Just drink it.”
Youichi examines the bottle for a moment, then brings it up to his mouth for a long drink, emptying it in seconds. He makes a face at the taste, and sets it down and looks about.
“Did it take effect?”
Miyuki snorts, ungracefully, then erupts in an almost contagious fit of giggles. Youichi is instantly put at unease.
“Kazuya…”
“Youichi, look at your tongue.”
“My tongue?” He moves closer to Sawamura’s cart and picks up something reflective, he sticks out his tongue to observe it. What he sees surprises him, his tongue is now stained the unsightly color of black.
“Kazuya!” He shoots Miyuki a hardened glare before moving to Sawamura and grabbing him by the collar.
“What have you done to me?” He questions harshly, brows furrowing in anger.
Sawamura stammers, panicking. “I have not done a thing! I swear to you-”
“Lies!”
“Youichi! Release him! The drink is but a dye and nothing more.” Miyuki confesses, grinning.
He loosens his grip and turns back to Miyuki.
“Why would you have me drink dye?”
“Because now your tongue looks like you have licked the underside of a cursed feline!” He tells him, lip quivering in amusement. When Sawamura realizes what the other had done, he too allows a few bouts of laughter to slip forth.
Youichi sighs, clearly displeased. “Your foul humor gets darker and darker each day, Kazuya.” He mumbles. “Your soul is black-”
“Much like your tongue?”
“Goodbye, Kazuya.” Youichi says, annoyed by his jape, then takes his leave, trudging back up the road.
Sawamura is left alone with Miyuki, and he’s silent for about a minute before speaking up. “That was rather mean-spirited.”
“By the end of the day, he will not even remember what happened.”
“I never believed a prince could do such a thing.”
“You flatter me.”
It takes a bit of strength for Sawamura to not tell him that was far from a compliment.
“Is that all you required? If so, I will take my leave-”
“To where are you going?”
“Just a local tavern.”
“I will accompany you.”
Sawamura protests, and argues that places such as a rowdy tavern was unfitting for someone of his stature, but Miyuki insists, and Sawamura is left to assume he is attempting to avoid duties. He lets him tag along.
And oh, how foolish of a mistake that is.
Throughout the journey, the prince talked, criticized, and poked fun at Sawamura and his cart to the point of annoyance. He would ask genuine questions, only to spout backhanded compliments and lighthearted insults. Sawamura would try to do the same, but his were simply not as sharp as the prince’s, and he would be insulted once more for his lack of clever responses. The other was a nuisance, and sullied the title of prince. It was certainly a shock to Sawamura, who had never experienced such a nasty attitude from anyone, much less someone of royalty.
They enter the tavern and situate themselves on the nearest stools. Sawamura prepares to order, as Miyuki looks around in wonder.
It was cozy and homely, filled with people drinking, eating and even dancing, all of whom were too drunk to make note of the prince’s entrance. The barkeep, however, noticed, but his appearance had no effect on how he planned to treat him.
“So this is what a tavern looks like.”
“You have never been to one?”
“I was a sheltered boy, and was told to not mingle with commoners.”
“But you are doing so at this moment.”
“I am aware.” He smirks.
Sawamura turns away and orders as soon as the barkeep averts his attention to him. Miyuki orders the same, in the exact manner Sawamura does, even going so far as to adjust his posture to give it a ‘full commoner effect’. It makes him sigh.
He is not entrusted the duty of watching over the prince, nor is the prince an actual child, (they are around the same age, Miyuki being a year older, Sawamura learns) but Sawamura swears on his life and everything in his cart he is a handful, and not in the innocent and naive sense, but in the troublesome one.
Their meal arrives. Two large plate consisting of steamed potatoes, peas, and chicken. To drink, they have cider.
Miyuki stares down at his plate in utter confusion. Not only were the portions too big for his liking, but there is no way for him to eat.
“Where are the eating utensils?”
Sawamura only smirks, then picks up his chicken by the bone and bites into it. “There are none.” He tells him, voice muffled by the food. Miyuki cringes at his unsightly gesture. He removes a handkerchief from his coat pocket and uses it to keep the grease from the chicken away from his hand as he picks it up off his own plate. He looks at Sawamura directly before taking a bite.
“Very well, then.” He replies, mouth full.
They eat their fill, and Sawamura decides to pay right away before he forgets. Miyuki, of course, does the same, however when the barkeep holds out his hand for the money, he simply looks over at Sawamura expectantly.
“You have money, aye?”
He shakes his head.
“A prince, having absolutely no money on him? How is that so?”
“I believe it is your fault for taking me to a place where payment is needed to enjoy it to it’s full extent.” He replies, not being truthful and admitting the thought to bring money did not cross his mind today.
“I did not invite you-”
“The barkeep is waiting.”
Sawamura grumbles, but ultimately pays for him. The barkeep finally leaves them be, and they watch the other tavern patrons as they sip their cider. Well, Sawamura sips, Miyuki, on the other hand…
“I suggest you slow down, you are aware alcohol resides in your drink?”
Miyuki’s head is thrown back as he downs the remainder of his drink. He comes back up with a satisfied sigh.
“I fancy this, purchase me another!” He orders.
“Nay! Have you gone deaf? Anymore of that drink and you will be dancing atop the bar counter, singing along to tunes you do not know the words to-”
“Barkeep! Another one of…” He takes a second to recall the name before holding his glass up. “This! If you will.” Sawamura simply puts his face in his hands, hoping this night will end soon.
.
.
.
Miyuki nurses his drink this time, and finds that it is much more enjoyable than finishing it off quickly. He watches a group of men and women dance about on one of the tables as the music plays a lively and festive song. He taps Sawamura on the shoulder.
“Aye?”
“What are they doing?” He points.
Sawamura puts his hand down to cease the unintentionally rude action.
“Dancing. Surely you know what that is.”
“That is not dancing.” He says. “They hop around and shake as if the devil himself has attempted to enter them. I know what dancing is, that is not dancing.”
Sawamura could only look at him with brimming irritation as the other takes a sip of his drink.
“Then have a go and teach them.” He suggest with jocularity and a wave of his hand, as his head is rested in his other, elbow propped up on the counter.
Miyuki sets his drink down and stands, then looks over at Sawamura, holding out his hand.
“The drink has taken it’s effect, has it not?” Sawamura asks, because he clearly must be under the influence of it if he is asking for his hand. “Go find a maiden to dance with-”
“I wish to dance, and I wish to dance with you.” He cuts him off, unable to admit he lacks the courage to approach a woman.
“I will not dance.”
Miyuki frowns for a moment before taking hold of Sawamura’s hand and pulling him off the stool against his protests. He drags him to a more open area and brings him close, holding both of his hands in his own. The tempo in the music raises, and they bounce to the rhythm. Sawamura is displeased, but Miyuki’s face is riddled with a giddy expression, and he cannot help but smile at that.
“We look foolish.”
“I am aware.”
“Do you know how to dance, prince Miyuki?”
He hums and shakes his head with a simper. “I do not.”
“A prince who can not dance? Are you sure you are of royalty?”
“Be scare with your insults, for I do recall I have reserved the right to your tongue.” He threatens light-heartedly.
“Ah, you remember…”
“Of course I do, you man of lies.”
“But prince, do you not lie as well?”
“I do.”
“Then why is it that I should be punished for actions that you, yourself have also done?”
“You inquire like that of a fool, you are aware of why.” Miyuki tells him, stopping their movements abruptly to spin the other, the action so sudden it makes Sawamura stumble and fall into him. His ears burn in embarrassment, and before he even attempts to apologize, Miyuki takes hold of his hand once more and he truly moves. Hopping and jumping in sync to the melody of the music, while tugging Sawamura along until he regains some sort of balance and joins him. They dance like mere idiots and do nothing about the array of giggles and chuckles that spill forth from their mouths like running faucets. If they a shred of decency, they would go back to the bar counter, but the sheer amusement they feel is far greater than any sort of humiliation they would gain from the pairs of eyes that stop to watch them.
The song ends, and they look up at each other and lock eyes for but a moment, before unconcealing another bout of laughter. Sawamura lowers his head in a feeble attempt to hide his joy, but his shoulders give him away.
“It seems you do not harbor any skills when it comes to dancing as well.” Miyuki says.
“Aye.” Sawamura admits with a sheepish grin.
.
.
.
They exit the tavern, and Sawamura fetches his cart.
“Where are you off to now?”
“An inn,”
“Why?”
“It is late and I have grown tired, prince.”
“Kazuya.”
“Mh?”
“Call me Kazuya, Eijun.”
“Right. Kazuya, then.” Sawamura corrects, and the name feels foreign on his tongue. He is rather fond of it, however, and wants to repeat it to himself as if he would forget.
“Can I see you again?”
If asked, he would not be able to explain why, at this very moment his heart beats faster than it normally would.
“Aye…” He says softly, and points southward. “I will be staying in one of the inns there, though, if you wish to see me again we could meet here, in front of this tavern, say, noon?”
“I will be here.” Miyuki assures with a nod.
Sawamura nods in returns, and watches for a change in expression in the event he is joking, but Miyuki only presents a smile. He finally parts, giving the other a wave before taking his cart and walking off.
.
.
.
Sawamura sleeps soundly for the most part, after practically spending a day with Miyuki, who was, in all honesty, a bit exhausting, it did not take much for him to fall into deep slumber. He had chosen a nice room with a window, so he could awaken to the view of the sun. However, the sun does not wake him up, a finger poking rhythmically at his cheek, and the faint chant of his name, Eijun, does.
When he opens his eyes to see the prince, he jumps out of his bed in shock. Miyuki simply steps back, unphased.
“Why do you stand before me in this room?” Sawamura questions, still trying to collect himself.
“I decided to not wait until noon to see you,”
“Why?”
“I grew tired of doing so.”
“How did-”
“The innkeeper at the front informed me of your room when I mentioned you, and provided me with a key.” He says, holding it up.
Sawamura sighs and sits on his bed, he does not bother asking why the innkeeper would do such a thing, as prince, Miyuki essentially has free reign to do as he pleases. Miyuki joins him, and looks at him expectantly. The other rubs at his eyes.
“Where will we visit today?”
“My apologies, prince--er, Kazuya. I have not made plans yet.”
“Then make some at once, I grow bored.”
It is only natural for someone like him to make demands, however, Sawamura keeps finding himself asking why is it that he of all people, must accommodate for his desires, and why those very desires and requests do not bother him in the way that they should. After getting to know what the prince is really like, this is nowhere near flattery, yet all the same he is vaguely fond of it, the attention and the assurance that Sawamura could provide a good time, that is. There something he just can not shake off, though.
“Kazuya, why do you stand before me in my room.”
“Why do you wish for me to repeat myself?”
“I wish for you to tell me the more truthful reason.”
“I simply seek a companion.” He answers, turning away.
And that feeling returns, but due to his grogginess from having just woken up, it is faint. His heartbeats proliferate, and in the pit of his stomach he flutters. Sawamura is baffled as to how one dance with the prince was enough to have him reconsider his impression of him. Perhaps it was the feel of his hands that night, or the light in his eyes, or even the unmistakable sound of his laughter. Though it might have been, and Sawamura is quite certain of this fact, that the prince truly does seek a companion, a friend. No matter how hard he presumes his words to be tainted with lies merely for the enjoyment of trickery, he cannot mistake the sheer genuineness of his intentions when he speaks, when he smiles.
“What of that hard-faced fellow of whom you have treated so wickedly yester, is he not a friend?”
“I can not say for certain.”
“How odd.”
“Am I odd?”
“Aye, you are.”
“Hm.”
Sawamura gets to his feet and moves to freshen up and change out of his sleeping clothes, all the while, Miyuki watches him in wait. He watches him make his bed, he watches him fold his clothes and store them away, he watches him tidy his room, he watches him, patient, and in wait. His stares put Sawamura at slight unease.
“Kazuya,”
“Eijun.”
His own name disrupts his flow, his cheeks tint and before he continues his question, he has to pause.
“Ah...Do you not have matters of your own to attend to?”
“I do.”
“So why do you not do them.”
“Because I am to spend the day with you.”
“Mmh…”
“Does this upset you?”
“Nay, it is with great displeasure I tell you that I still cannot come up with something for us to do.”
“What of the tavern?”
“It is far too early to seek amusement at the tavern.”
“I see. Then we will stay here until night arrives, and make our way there when the time is right.”
Sawamura looks at Miyuki observantly, and it is painfully apparent he wishes to recreate that night. And Sawamura would truly be a man of lies if he were to say he does not wish for that too.
He sits on the floor, cross-legged, and pats the area in front of him. No sooner he does this, Miyuki does the same.
“Tell me, Kazuya. Do you enjoy tales?” He asks, figuring it would be best to spend time now.
“I do,” He answers with a small smile. “ I enjoy them even more if they are to be true.”
Sawamura grins, and Miyuki catches on immediately, he does not know much about Sawamura Eijun, but what he knew for certain was that when he speaks, he could perform. Sawamura tells him stories, stories of his pasts, his dreams, and interactions with strangers. All of which were so descriptive and vivid, Miyuki made a game with himself that consists of his deciphering which tale is false, and which is true. Ironically, his lies were less detailed than his honest truths. That in itself made Miyuki laugh.
Sawamura wears his thoughts on his face and speaks with his hands, his smile accents his confidence and his eyebrows could dance, his lips can curl with disgust or delight while his cheeks support them all the same. He is a sight to behold and a rarity to be praised, the prince discovers, a treasure which he must not share with others.
They spend the whole day together, talking and eating their fill on treats and snacks, (Which Sawamura insisted upon, as tavern food was quite expensive.) it is finally some odd hours into the night, and they both get reading to take their leave. But Sawamura does not get up right away, his gaze is fixated on his room’s window, looking out of it.
“It seems the stars shine particularly bright tonight.” He murmurs, as if he speaks to himself, rather than to the one in front of him.
Miyuki moves over and sits next to Sawamura, he angles himself in a way so that he may see in the way he does, and finally agrees.
“True, however, all the stars above do not posses the gleam you do, for your light illuminates above all else, even the sun is somber in comparison to you.” He says, and like a droplet of water which falls subtly into a motionless pool, Sawamura is unsettled for a moment, before remaining calm once more.
Miyuki sees this, and questions his reaction.
“Was that compliment not to your liking?”
“It is, though because it is you, fair prince, who utters those words, I cannot interpret whether it is truth you speak, or a mere jest.” He smiles.
“Your uncertainty wounds me.” He huffs, turning away.
Sawamura is uncertain, because to say such things was seemly absurd and out of balance. He cannot tell if the prince’s feelings are true, it was simply unlikely for one to feel such a way, after recently becoming acquainted with someone.
“Nor does the sun or stars,” Miyuki continues, in a low, uncharacteristic mumble. “harbor the burning like that of the love I feel for you, not even close.”
At that, Sawamura flushes and scoots away, staring at Miyuki bewildered. Surely, he is joking.
“Pardon?” He sputters.
Miyuki turns to face him and takes Sawamura’s now warm, shaky hand in his own. “I yearn for you.”
“You do not!”
“But I do.”
“Prince--Kazuya, do you know of love? Do you know how one defines it?” Sawamura asks, completely in shock and disbelief.
“I do not.” Miyuki says calmly.
“Then how is it that what you claim for me is real, if you do not know the true meaning of it?” He asks with an unintentional harshness, if this is a ruse the prince is going too far, this is not in the least bit comical.
“How do I know if it is not real? What I feel for you is like no other, clearly it is love, is it not?”
“It is not! You do not know of me!”
“That does not change how I feel. You cannot sway me.” Miyuki says with an unbending tone, arms crossed.
Sawamura puts a hand at his chest, and now makes note of how fast his heart beats. His breathing has shortened as well, and Miyuki staring at him does not quell him either.
“You are very peculiar, Kazuya. You should return home, does your family not wish for your presence?”
“If they wish for my presence then so be it. I will stay here.”
Sawamura watches him for a moment, and when Miyuki averts his gaze, Sawamura frowns a bit.
“What are you avoiding?”
Miyuki scratches the top of his head in presumable embarrassment. It takes a moment for him to conjure up the right words to say, before he simply outs with it. “My father wants me to marry.”
“And?”
“I do not wish to. It is why I avoid him.”
Sawamura squints. “I do not see how that is any reason to avoid him, you will have many beautiful women lined up for a chance to be with you, to be a princess, is that not good?”
Miyuki huffs, and before Sawamura could question it his face is gently grabbed, and his lips lock with his. For a moment he is tense and his hands suspend in air as he does not know what to do with them. Miyuki’s lips are pressed up against his, quite hard, yet they harbor a lingering softness and an insatiable sensation so potent it was not before long Sawamura tries to kiss back with a matching drive. Miyuki pulls away with a relieved sigh, and Sawamura puts the pieces together.
“I can now see your predicament.” He whispers, mid-sigh.
“All I know, is that my father could bring forth the fairest of maidens and princesses, and none of them will ever strike my fancy. I would still much rather spend my time with a common peddler.” He says with indignation.
“I see,”
“Say, Eijun, would you dress yourself up as a princess so that I may court you?”
“Absolutely not!” Sawamura shouts, frowning. Miyuki laughs.
He understands now. The other feels infatuation and labels it love. Sawamura is for the most part flattered and relieved, his feelings are not strong as he claims them to be, but they are somewhat sincere. Miyuki takes hold of Sawamura’s hand, and laces their fingers together.
“I love-”
“You do not.”
“I do.”
“Kazuya-”
“Do you know of love and how it works?” Miyuki cuts him off with a question, “Surely you have felt the same before, then?”
“...Nay.”
“Then what drives you to claim there is falseness in the words I speak, words from my heart? I love you, Eijun, and if it takes an eternity for you to feel the same for me, I shall wait, wait until your heart beats with an ache that covets mine. I wish to be with you, and only you.”
Sawamura could not take it, his words, he speaks with such a conviction and such honesty that he finds himself moving away from him once more. He lowers his head.
“If what you say is true-”
“it is.”
“The fact remains, you are a prince and I am but a mere peddler. How can we be? I do not live in this town, either. I will have to leave soon.” He says, getting flustered at his own question, it is as if they were already in a committed relationship, and drifting apart.
“I could hire you, to be part of the royal household, you-”
“Will be your secret.” Sawamura finishes in a murmur. He bites his lip.
Miyuki senses his discomfort. “There will be a time where I will no longer have to hide my love for you.”
Sawamura sighs, and Miyuki closes the space between them. He does not bother moving again, because Miyuki does not touch him, nor does he await or a response. He simply sits and basks in the moment, the moment he has next to Sawamura. It is aggravating and touching all the same, because what Miyuki feels is not as flimsy and spontaneous as Sawamura first presumed. He will not suddenly forget his feelings, or dismiss them when he sees fit, they will not die. Unless-
“Perhaps, you just feel passion alone…” He suggests.
“You mean to say I confuse love for lust?”
“I said perhaps…”
Miyuki smirks. “Then let us confirm your theory by expelling our heat in the bed beside us-”
“Your heat!” Sawamura snaps. “And what of it then? What if what I say proves true, what then? Will you toss me aside like the garbage you claim resides on my very cart?”
“Forgive me for my selfish desires…” Miyuki whispers, and Sawamura feels arms wrap around his waist. He seethes.
“Do not touch-”
“I cannot stress anymore how real my feelings are, they are like none other, so I am certain they are what I say. Believe me, and if the day ever comes the flame of my love no longer burns for you, take from me what you may.” He takes Sawamura’s hand, and holds it to his chest.
“My heart, so that it may never beat for another,” He brings it up to his lips for a kiss. “My lips, so that I may never utter the very words I tell to you right now to anyone else. Anything. You may take anything from me. Would lust be the reason for me to willingly give myself to you? I have learned your name but two days ago, and have not stopped thinking about it since. It is love I have for you-”
“You do not know what love is-”
“Neither do you! Why must you invalidate my feelings, what must I do-”
“I have heard enough.”
Miyuki frowns, but bites his tongue. Sawamura faces him, his expression tranquil.
“I do not know how you have managed to fall for me in such a short amount of time, but if your feelings are as strong as you say, it would be wrong to not return them, would it not?”
“Eijun…”
“And I should say, I have developed feelings for you.” He blushes, and his voice quivers. “Though not as strong, to have them not flourish with yours would be a waste…” Sawamura’s hand is still in Miyuki’s, and it is because of this he can feel the other tense up at his words.
“Eijun, this means-”
“Aye. However, our future will be troublesome.”
“We will bear it together.” He grins, and it is contagious, because Sawamura does too.
They did not visit the tavern that night, nor did they stay cooped up in the room of the inn, they ventured outside, hand in hand towards a grassy hill where they sit and watch the stars. The stars that shined bright on that night unlike others. The stars that signified the start of their love, their love which will burn and radiate intensely in due time.