Chapter Text
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Dear Hajime,
By the time you’re reading this, I’ve probably already left.
I don’t blame you for anything that happened, so don’t blame yourself. It was going to be this way, eventually. But I didn’t want to leave you empty handed. Though I’m sure you could never forget me, I wanted to make sure of it. So I’m going to tell you our story.
I can already hear your grumbly “I lived our story, Shittykawa,” but this is different. This is from my perspective. So sit tight Iwa-chan, this is going to be a long letter…
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Tooru barely stifles a laugh as Matsukawa slowly raises a peace sign above the diplomat’s head, wiggling the two fingers with a stoney face plastered on. Tooru doesn’t understand how he does it, because he knows his own face is so red it might as well be a certain fruit. He should be resistant to Matsukawa’s stupid little pranks and attempts to break his focus, but in their eight years of friendship, he has yet to not chuckle at his friend’s stupid actions.
Tooru shifts his attention from the shithead standing behind his father to the diplomat sitting next to him, speaking calmly about an issue Tooru could care less about. Tooru’s aware that this diplomat is very important to the development of his kingdom, but he couldn’t help but feel bored by all these political inquiries.
He let the time tick on, let his father and the diplomat he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of drone forever about whatever they were discussing. He knows he’s good at controlling his face, but even he couldn’t keep the lack of enjoyment out of his eyes. He tries not to roll his eyes, instead moving them back to Matsukawa who was now crossing his eyes and poking out his tongue.
Tooru moved his lips slightly, blinking twice, and Matsukawa silently laughed.
“Is this matter funny to you, Prince Tooru?”
Tooru freezes as he looks to the third diplomat at the table sitting closest to his father, eyes blown wide. Maybe he’s not as sneaky as he thought. He searches Matsukawa's face for help, but he’s frozen as well and looks at his own father, the High Priest and the right hand man of the King. Tooru, knowing help wouldn’t come to him regardless, looks directly at his father. Big mistake.
The King of Aoba Johsai is not a mean man. In fact, he is one of the kindest in the land and Tooru is proud to call him his father. But in that instant, the King looked like he wanted nothing more than to send Tooru to his grave.
Honestly, Tooru can’t blame him.
“We can continue this meeting in the morning.” His father commanded in such a voice that all the tension was sucked out of the air and shaped into an invisible gavel that he would use to judge his son.
Tooru couldn’t wait for the verdict.
The councilmen and the diplomat grab their stuff and scurry away from the table so as to not get in the King’s way. Matsukawa, the traitor, tries to slip away too- and satisfaction blooms in Tooru’s chest when the High Priest traps him in the room.
“Tooru.” The King lays a firm hand on the oak table. “How old are you?”
“I’m 17, father.” Tooru looks down. He knows where this is going.
“You realize your coronation is next year, correct?”
“Yes, I do realize.”
“And you know you have to start taking these meetings seriously?”
Oikawa nods, still not meeting his father’s eyes.
“You know, when I was 17 I could name every diplomat, ally, and councilman in every secret and public meeting. I knew schedules and updates, came up with war plans and how to overthrow evil kings, I looked after my sisters, and after all that I even had time to court your mother!” The King winks at Tooru, who looks up, bringing a little smile to his son's face. Then his expression stones again.
“The point is, you need to be mature. This isn’t just some silly game. You will take on an entire nation and her people. You need to grow up, Tooru.”
Ah, there it is. The phrase that Tooru has been afraid his father would say. It’s not like Tooru hasn’t grown up, he's much more mature than he was at 10. But maybe he’s been a little less mature than he actually wanted to be. Less than his father wanted him to be. Less than his kingdom needed him to be.
“I’m not asking you to know as much as I did, and I know you know most of it. I’m just asking you to take this role seriously.” The King stands, absentmindedly running a blocky hand through his curly russet beard, bushy eyebrows coming down in a contemplating gaze at his son. Tooru saw himself in his face, recognized the look that he has worn many times. People always said he was a carbon copy of his father. “I think the problem is I spoil you too much.”
What. Tooru snaps his head up. “What does that mean?”
“That means, you’re a spoiled brat and didn’t have to work as hard as I did for this kingdom.” The King chuckled at his own tease.
Tooru catches Matsukawa nodding in agreement and curses his entire caterpillar eyebrow bloodline. He sighs. His father’s right, even in joking. That scar that caused blindness in the King’s right eye… it wasn’t from getting this kingdom handed to him like Tooru. He lost his eye starting a revolution and overthrowing the past tyrannical king. Tooru was just born into this.
No pressure, right?
“Which is still not a bad thing, by the way. I just wanted you to have everything I couldn’t, and that isn’t your fault. You’ve been given a good life, Tooru, but I think you need to experience what it’s like to come from a background like mine.”
Tooru takes his previous statement back. He has no idea where this is going.
“What, are you kicking me out?”
The King laughs. “Heavens no, who would take over? I’m going to send you to my hometown, on the outskirts of the kingdom- Blue Haven.”
Tooru’s eye twitches. Blue Haven? One of the dirtiest places in the kingdom that’s basically all farmland? And stinky, ugly animals? Was he serious?
“Father, you must be joking- you came from that place?”
“See, this is what I mean. ‘That place’ is your kingdom, and those people are your subjects. I want you to experience life there for a year-”
“A year?!?!”
“-yes, and it’s a win-win for you, isn't it? Since you don’t want to sit in any meetings, here’s your chance to escape and learn how to govern all your people, not just the ones that are closest.” The King laughs at his son’s face, walking away from his seat and making his way to the huge oak doors.
Matsukawa slides up to Tooru, struggling to hold in laughter, the bastard. He tries to rest a hand on Tooru’s shoulder which the king-to-be quickly swats away. “Wooow my prince, that’s gonna be so much fun. I wish you luck.”
“Oh, and Issei!” The King calls last minute, his leg halfway out the door and the high priest right on his heels, “You’re going too.”
Tooru barked out the most satisfying laugh as Matsukawa’s entire essence deflated like his ice cream just splattered on the floor.
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“How could he do this to me-”
“To us-”
“To us!”
Tooru paces around his room, gripping his hair and making incoherent noises. Matsukawa sits in a velvet sofa chair trying to act calm, but the shaking of his leg gives him away.
“A year! Oh god, a year? You know what I could be doing in a- the suitors! What will they think!”
Matsukawa rolls his eyes, momentarily stilling his leg. “You never liked any of those girls anyway.”
Tooru pauses his pacing. “Well, I mean, that one girl with the blonde hair was nice- I also liked the short-haired brunette-”
“Oikawa, you can’t even remember their names.”
Tooru flails his arms in Matsukawa’s direction. “Okay, what about you? Where’s your high priestess to be?”
Matsukawa shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Tooru scoffs. Got ‘em. His smugness doesn’t last long as he is reminded of the situation once more. He paces over to his bed and flops on it facing up, letting his entire body go limp. He hears a groan and some heavy footsteps, bracing for when Matsukawa drops beside him and sends them both bouncing.
“We’re gonna be fine, right?” Tooru softly speaks out into the air. “It’s just a year, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“We could die.”
Tooru smacks Matsukawa’s chest. “Shut up.”
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The carriage was prepared and waiting outside the castle the next day. Tooru and Matsukawa were standing side by side with suitcases in tow. They were told to wear their best suits- Tooru’s being an all white suit with blue and gold trim, and Issei’s being a navy blue suit with white trim- and to be honest he was skeptical if that was necessary because of the feeling that they’d get soiled anyway. Tooru just thanked the gods it was one of the more roomier carriages.
The King walks up to them with a smile that rivals the sun, but Tooru sees the glint of mischief reflected in his eye. No doubt in Tooru’s mind that they’re related, that's for sure.
“Are you boys ready?”
Tooru rolled his eyes. “Could you at least pretend that you aren’t enjoying this and are sad to see us go?”
The King smiled genuinely. “Of course I’ll be sad to see you two go. My favorite son and my favorite godson are leaving.”
“I’m your only son.”
“I’m your only godson!” Matsukawa chimes in.
“We will miss you both,” The High Priest smiles, a rare occurrence (unexpected, considering his son’s wildcard personality). Matsukawa goes to hug his father while Oikawa leans into his father’s bear hug, patting his back. Maybe he will miss the King and the High Priest, no matter how much he wants to pretend.
As he pulls away from the King’s grip, an arm extends out and catches him by the shoulder. He looks up to his father, who squeezes, and says:
“This is an important step to being a leader. Connecting with people can make all the difference. So never forget why you were sent there, you hear me boy?”
Tooru nods, swift and short, storing what his father had said into a file in his brain. He can always revisit the thought later. He’d prefer not to think about it now in lieu of dreading the journey to come.
The King presses a quick but firm kiss to his son’s forehead. “I love you, Tooru.”
“Dad-” he whined, but the pout quickly turned into a smile. “I love you too.”
“Go on then, son, you can’t keep Blue Haven waiting.”
Tooru rolls his eyes.
“And tell Tomi I said hi!”
Tooru squints. “Who’s Tomi?”
“You’ll know when you see her.”
Tooru scoffs at his father’s cryptic words, but climbs in the coach. Matuskawa follows, lugging his and Tooru’s luggage with them (because Tooru intentionally left his suitcase, the asshole). He grunts as he sits, and Oikawa makes a remark about his ‘old age’, to which Matsukawa just flips him off.
Then the carriage jerks forward, almost throwing Tooru out of his seat and forcing him to look out the window- his beloved castle and father getting smaller and smaller.
Tooru slumps back into his seat with a sigh. Would this really help him?
Matuskawa clamps a hand on his shoulder. “Stop being a bitch about it, Oikawa. God forbid we don’t sleep on silk beds and eat the finest food. We’ll be fine.”
Tooru rolls his eyes. “Says the guy who was panicking about it yesterday!”
“You only noticed because you’ve known me for so long. You’re just obvious.”
The brunette huffs, turning towards the window to pout.
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Tooru is shaken lightly out of his nap, head comfortably resting on Mattsun’s shoulder. He blinks and makes a little noise, to which Mattsun shakes harder.
“Alright, alright.” he groans, sitting up and stretching, making sure his extended arm was right in his companion’s face. Matsukawa swats it away with expert ease.
“We’re here, asshole.”
Tooru eagerly looks out the window to find the edge of a quaint village with spaced out wood shacks and more mud than dirt. Tooru cringes at the thought of stepping in that. Then a pungent smell attacks his nose, and Tooru immediately turns away from the window and clasps his face. Animals , he thinks. Sure, they had animals at the castle, but they were only horses and birds and they were always well groomed and clean. Manure reeked as they passed the broken down red barns and pastures. Deeper into the town, he starts seeing more people and more brick buildings, and he’s assuming they're heading towards some sort of town square. The villagers all stare in awe (some with disgust) as the pristine white and golden carriage slowly turns by them. Luckly, they can’t see Tooru through the tinted windows, otherwise he’s not sure he would have been able to keep the surprise out his face.
He looks to Matsukawa, who was making just the same surprised, and somewhat repulsed, faces that he was making. He playfully hits Matsun’s shoulder.
“Guess we both weren't prepared for this , huh.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not the spoiled brat the king sent.”
“Yeah, but you’re the loser that’s with him.”
Mattsun grabs Tooru’s head to make him shriek (which he does) and lightly but firmly puts him in a headlock. Tooru uselessly thrashes as Matsukawa ruffles up his perfectly brushed hair.
“I can’t go out to them like this, you wretched creature!” Tooru squawks, banging his hands down on Mattsun’s arm. The offender just laughs.
“Oh, sure you can.”
Just as he said that, the carriage stops, and Matsukawa drops Tooru immediately. Tooru is grateful as he frantically tries to fix his hair- but then realization dawns on him. This is it.
They're here. For a year .
He hears the driver of the carriage dismount his perch, and hears the horses winny with unease. They don’t even feel comfortable here.
Tooru buries his face in his hands as the driver clears his throat and announces: “Greetings, righteous people of Blue Haven. Your majesty the King sent over his only son, the Crown Prince Oikawa Tooru, to live among you for a year. Please present yourselves nicely to the future king.”
Tooru was sure the residents of Blue Haven would not be happy about that last line. He rips his hands away from his face, takes a deep breath (and hopes his hair is somewhat decent), and puts on his best smile as the driver slowly opens the door to the carriage.
He’s met with stares. No cheering, no smiles, just blank staring. His face wavered as he stepped out the carriage, careful until he hit the muddy ground. He couldn’t stop his eyebrow from twitching at the squishy sound it made and he hoped no one noticed. He folded his hands behind his back, anxiously waiting for Mattsun to follow. Mattsun has always been taller than him, but even when his best friend stepped down beside him he felt so small in this position. He wants to grab Mattsun’s arm but goes against the thought. He’s a prince. He needs to act like it.
“Hello, Blue Haven! I am the Crown Prince, Oikawa Tooru, and this is my right hand man, Matsukawa Issei.”
Issei throws up a peace sign (other hand weighed down by their luggage), which shows Tooru he’s just as nervous.
“We hope you all welcome us with open arms.”
The crowd looks at each other, then at them, then at eachother again. Tooru started bouncing on his feet, too anxious to be still. The soft murmurs in the crowd and the obvious scrutiny he was under concerned him greatly.
“I guess your princely charm doesn't work on them, huh?” Matsukawa jokes, but it sounds strained.
They stand there having a staring contest with the crowd that was probably considering turning into a mob (maybe because what he was wearing alone probably cost more than what they’d make in a lifetime), and Tooru debated the consequences of getting back in that stupid carriage and riding back to his father.
“Now just what are you doing!?”
A woman’s voice loud, commanding voice shouts over every whisper, immediately shutting up the chatter. Tooru tensed. This must be their leader, or mayor of some sort, to have such authority over a crowd like this.
“Why are you all just standing there? The Crown Prince came to our little town and the most we do is stare and gossip! Unacceptable.” The woman steps through the crowd which parts for her like the Red Sea.
The stocky woman bravely approached Tooru, sticking her hand out to him. Tooru had to more or less straighten his entire arm to reach hers, his chin at a significant downward angle. Her intense eyes were piercing right through his skin. He gave a thankful smile nonetheless, grateful that someone was treating him like an actual person.
“I’m Tomi,” She introduces in a softer tone, and the name immediately rings a bell in Tooru’s head. “I’m a childhood friend of your fathers.”
Tooru again was baffled by the fact that this really was where his father grew up and that he still had friends here. It was hard to imagine his father with childhood friends at all. Realizing he needed to give her a response, Tooru swiftly nodded and said “My father said hi.” and introduced Matsukawa.
Once Tomi was done shaking Mattsun’s hand, she turned around to the crowd who was still watching with awe.
“They’re human beings!” She speaks in that commanding voice again. “Treat them like it!”
Tooru then hears the crack of the whip and the whinny of horses, turning around to see that the carriage that seemed slow to come here dashed off and out of the town square back to where it (and himself) belonged- the castle.
They were stuck now.
“C’mon boys, I’ll show you where you’ll stay.”
As Tomi strode back towards the crowd, the treacherous Mattsun slammed a suitcase into Tooru’s chest, almost knocking the wind out of him.
“Carry your own suitcase.” A smile played on the edge of his lips, dark curly hair barely keeping the clear mischief in his eyes from sight. Oikawa groans but grabs the suitcase and follows, silently rubbing his chest to soothe the pain.
The townspeople’s murmurs grew louder as they walked by, and Tooru stayed close to Mattsun. Some looked at the Crown Prince with curiosity, others with envy, and some with malicious intent altogether. His father advised him not to take any valuable possessions other than the current suit he’s wearing, and Tooru’s glad he listened. Although, what he brought in that suitcase was a minimum of 4,000 Mena* and up…
The walk to wherever Tomi was taking them felt ridiculously long with the crowd slowly (and very obviously) trailing them, but they eventually reached this tall brick building that looked like it’s seen better days.
Tomi wipes her tan hands on her beige dress, making sure to hit her off-white apron on the way. When she turns around to face Tooru and Mattsun, her loosely braided salt and pepper hair falls from its previous perch on her shoulder to behind her back, periodically moving in the wind.
“Welcome to my humble business!” Tomi exclaims with pride. Tooru looks up at the sign, in bold red lettering, Tomi’s Inn . Homey. “You can come in and make yourself at home once I show you your rooms.”
Tooru and Mattsun follow her onto the creaky wooden porch and into the low candle lighted building. The first floor looked like a bar of some sort, a bartender stood at a counter with various drinks behind him, and tables and chairs randomly assorted throughout the floor. It looked organized and neat, but it certainly isn’t like his dining hall at home. Near the stairs there was another desk, with gridded lockboxes he assumed was for room keys. He looked to Tomi, who must’ve read his mind, because she pulled out some keys and tossed them to him.
Room 19 ? That better be the inn’s finest suite.
Tomi ascends up the stairs, the two royals following. They come out of the staircase to the second floor, where Tomi explains that the first rooms from 1-20 are.
“Room number one is where my son and I live. It’s fully furnished and everything because of that. I’m right down the hall if you need me. But you guys,” She unlocked with a master key and pushed open a wooden door closer to the staircase with a brass label that read 19 , “you guys will be staying in here.”
Tooru steps into the room, and has to physically grip a chair to stop himself from running out. There was only one room, one bathroom, and one closet. (Granted, his suitcase isn’t that big, again grateful that his father persuaded him to not bring so much if he could just get clothes from Tomi.) It was so small. The space itself was the size of the smallest closet in the castle. The two twin sized beds took up half the room, leaving the other to the small desk- plus the chair he was gripping- on the opposite wall, the closet which was maybe a foot deep, and the bathroom which barely had room for you to sit on the toilet (which means there was no bath, which Tooru didn’t even want to think about). Tooru bit his lip to stop from groaning, though he couldn’t keep the twitch out of his eye when he looked at Matsukawa.
Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one disgusted with this situation. Matsukawa was poor at hiding it.
“I know this isn’t the luxury you boys are normally used to.” Tomi mused. Damn, she must have noticed their faces. “But this is all I’ve got and frankly the best this town has to offer.”
Tooru turns around to face the middle aged woman with a tight lipped smile. “Thank you for having us here, Tomi.”
“Ah, always so princely. You’re just like your father, acting like a gentleman way before he was ever royal. And you look like him too- except for those eyes, those are your mother’s no doubt.”
Tooru stared at Tomi for a moment. “You knew her?”
“Oh sure, as Akio’s best friend I had to approve the one he’d marry, you know? Beautiful woman, Yuri was. Beautiful heart, too.”
Tooru softly smiled. He doesn’t remember much of his mother, but everyone said three things: That she was beautiful, that she was kind, and that he had her eyes.
“Well I wouldn’t say he’s all that nice,” Matsukawa breaks up Tooru’s thoughts with the rude comment, which Tomi promptly laughs at. The Crown Prince shoots his companion a nasty look, to which the offender just shrugs.
“Ignore my presumptuous friend,” Tooru smiles at Tomi. “He sometimes forgets his place.”
Just as Mattsun was about to flick his ear for that comment, Tomi’s face straightened into stone cold seriousness for the first time that day.
“You know, Crown Prince Tooru, no one ‘round here is going to call you by that title. Or treat you like it. You better get used to being on our level. You’re on our playing field.”
That same intensity he felt when shaking Tomi’s hand came back tenfold.
“And I’m serious. Don’t think you’re going to lay around here and do nothing. You’re going to work your ass off, you hear?”
Tooru nods swiftly and at the same time Matsukawa squeaks “yes ma’am”.
A soft chuckle came from behind the small woman, and Tooru looked up from her gaze to a man standing in the doorway. He looked about his age, with broad shoulders and humongous muscles. (Seriously, he’s seen knights with less). A handsome face no doubt about it, sleek cheekbones and tanned skin. There was one feature about him that stuck out the most- his eyes.
He undeniably had Tomi’s dazzling shade of jade.
“Mom, I think you’re scaring them a little.”
Tomi’s face immediately softens as she turns to face the figure. “You know better than anyone that I’m not afraid of bringing fear into ‘em.”
She reaches up to pat his face, which the man slightly bends down to so she wouldn’t strain herself. She turns back to us, smiling bright and genuine.
“This is my pride and joy. Meet my son Hajime.”