Chapter Text
At the age of 10, Satoru’s father died. That's what he had been told at least.
He was awoken by the sound of commotion. In a palace the size of heaven (or hell), ambient noise hardly even found his chambers. Before Satoru could raise his head, a blank face hastily entered his room. Despite his haste, the nameless servant slowed as he approached Satoru's bedside and politely bowed.
‘‘Good Morning, Sire’’, the man’s bow deepened, but Satoru could see the nervous condensation on his brow. Satoru remained silent, allowing the servant to gather his thoughts.
‘‘I hate to be the one to inform you of this - because well.. well you see..’’ the crease between the servant's brows was even more prominent in the early morning light, ‘‘..it's your father - the King.. he has-’’, Satoru followed the man’s Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down. The dewy morning air smelt of worry and Satoru's brow began to match that of the man before him, dripping with unease.
‘‘The King has died, your Highness’’
Satoru was accustomed to change but the words uttered by the man before him shook his core. His empty stomach which had craved breakfast now churned and flipped in despair. The bile in his throat tasted of tragedy. And the dew that turned to rain sounded of death.
✰
No more than two days later Satoru learned of the truth. To this day part of him wishes that his caretaker's lies of ‘‘a long-term illness fought hard to the last breath’’ was enough to satisfy his youthful curiosity, but it wasn't. Unwanted lies spread quickly, though unspoken truths spread faster. The rumors of a note left beside his father's limp corpse haunted Satoru. It took him no more than an hour to locate the source of this rumor. The King's advisor left his drawer unlocked, a familiar signature caught Satoru's eye. Without a second thought, he snatched it. And as the note sat in his babyish fingers, Satoru cursed his curiosity. His father's scrawled words spread across the crisp parchment. Words never thought to come out of a ruler's mouth, written so deep they carved into Satoru's skin. He had only been able to bring himself to read the note once, though it was more than enough.
Satoru's father. The King, so merciless and cold, had killed himself. Leaving Satoru to fill his bloody shoes.