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Wakatoshi was, by all accounts, a quiet child. 

His mother said so, heavily encumbered by jewels that his father bestowed upon her to make up for always visiting the royal harem. She accepted the gifts every time, wearing a false smile that even Wakatoshi could see through. His mother had everything she ever wanted, she told him, except for a loving family. Wakatoshi tried to show his mother that he did love her and that he could be a part of her loving family, but he was too quiet, too naive, not enough. 

His father said so, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he stared imperiously down at his little son of whom had no wish to gut the serving boy who stole from their kitchens. He had the serving boy taken away, a boy who could be no more than a year or two older than Wakatoshi himself, and Wakatoshi tried not to think of what would become of him. Wakatoshi’s father muttered some sort of insult, calling him too soft-spoken, which he knew meant the same thing as quiet. 

The servants said so, roaming the halls with voices hardly louder than a whisper. Wakatoshi often wondered how they could call him quiet when they produced no more sound than buzzing gnats, like the kind that bit Wakatoshi’s arms in the summer. Annoying, just like the gnats, too, but Wakatoshi would never voice such insolence. He understood what they meant, though, from the rest of the things they said. Things about how Wakatoshi should’ve been louder, more demanding, that he should have taken after his father. 

Maybe he was supposed to be insolent.

“ Wakatoshi-kun! You aren’t paying attention to me.” Now, there was someone who could never be called quiet. Tendou Satori, better known as Wakatoshi’s only friend, who had bright red hair and an even brighter smile. He talked a lot, more than enough to make up for Wakatoshi’s silence, and he never once pressured the heir to say things louder or voice his opinions more often. Wakatoshi liked him. 

“I am sorry, Satori,” Wakatoshi apologised, inclining his head slightly, and Satori waved a hand in the air dismissively. Even better than being loud; Satori also didn’t care about Wakatoshi’s status as the heir to the empress and emperor. He treated him like a normal person, which Wakatoshi was incredibly grateful for, even if he didn’t tell Satori that outright.

“Please, continue your story,” Wakatoshi invited. The story in question had been about escapee chickens and blueberry pie, although he didn’t remember how those two correlated, exactly. Wakatoshi wasn’t very good at keeping up with Satori’s stories on the best of days, never mind when he was distracted. Satori grinned, launching into an animated retelling of his tale.

“ Anyways, as I was saying, I was s’posed to feed the chickens that morning. But, y’know, feeding chickens is a downright dreadful chore, so I put it off for a while. Well, apparently, after I fed them a couple of hours later, I forgot to latch the gate to their pen closed. So, the chickens got out and ran everywhere! It was the funniest thing, Wakatoshi,” Satori crowed, half-doubled-over with laughter as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. Wakatoshi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What does that have to do with blueberry pie?” He asked, somewhat curious, and Satori’s eyes lit up once more. 

“Right, I forgot! When the chickens were running around and everyone was scramblin’ to catch them, someone also left the door to the kitchens open! And one of the chickens plopped right into a fresh blueberry pie.” Satori laughed as though his story was the most amusing thing ever to exist. A slight smile tugged at Wakatoshi’s lips. Whether it was because Satori’s story really was that amusing, or because it was for Satori’s laughter, which would bring a smile to anyone’s face, Wakatoshi would never tell. 

“Did you not get in trouble?” Wakatoshi wondered, amusement escaping him as he realised it was Satori’s mistake that prompted such a tale to be wrought. The glimmer of humour faded from Satori’s eyes, too, and he shrugged, listlessly dragging his fingers across the blades of grass upon which they sat. The gardens were the only place where Satori could speak his mind freely without fear of being overheard, and thus, the only place where he and Wakatoshi spent time together.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not important. It’s still a funny story, Wakatoshi,” He answered, always honest, and Wakatoshi frowned. While the story was humorous, that didn’t mean that he wanted Satori to gloss over what had happened to him because of it. He knew that the punishments his father assigned were never easy, and part of Wakatoshi was glad to see Satori still in one piece. Satori’s red eyes fell to the ground as he tugged a blade of grass from the ground, twisting it around his fingers absentmindedly. 

“What was your punishment?” Wakatoshi asked without wondering if it was an appropriate or polite question to ask. Whilst the emperor’s son was not impertinent most times, he seemed never to stop in his pursuit of knowledge. If he wanted to know something, he would be told such, or he would grow quite sullen, hiding out in his rooms for days on end. Wakatoshi cared not for his age, either, never seeing it as a suitably proper reason to hide knowledge from him. 

Satori blinked, somewhat like the owls they kept in the royal aviary. He seemed frozen in time, his fingers twitching minutely. It was clear he did not expect to be asked such a question outright, but he knew that Wakatoshi would not stop until he received an honest answer. A selfish, practised habit, but one that Satori was familiar with nonetheless.

“Ten lashes at the post,” Satori admitted, shrugging again. “It could’ve been much worse, Wakatoshi, considering the damage I cost the…the emperor.” He tried to brush it off casually like it was nothing worse than a smack to the hand, but Wakatoshi could see the hurt that still glimmered in Satori’s eyes. Wakatoshi had no idea how much physical pain Satori was in, but he could see that being publicly humiliated at the post had done as much damage to him as the ten lashes. 

“It will never happen again.” Wakatoshi said decisively. His voice was dark, much angrier and colder than it had any right to be coming from a boy who was only a decade old. Satori’s eyes went wider, if possible, and he shook his head abruptly.

“Wakatoshi, you can’t make those kinds of promises,” He admonished, perhaps because he did not want the hope, and Wakatoshi’s eyes narrowed. Oh, how he despised being told what to do. Besides, Wakatoshi kept his promises, and Satori would never have the light in his eyes dimmed like that again. He didn’t care what he had to do to ensure it was that way. 

“Are you still in pain, Satori?” Wakatoshi asked, changing the subject, and Satori grimaced. He looked like he wanted to lie, but Wakatoshi glared at him, as if daring Satori to downplay his injuries. Wakatoshi would find out the truth either way, but it was preferable if Satori would tell him outright.

“Not too much,” Satori answered truthfully. “It’s manageable. My Pa has been puttin’ this special healing cream on the lashes every night, and it numbs it enough so I can get to sleep. It’s easier to ignore during the day, ‘cause I still have to do my chores and stuff,” He explained casually, not realising he was making Wakatoshi’s mood worsen. Why was Satori still working after being injured gravely? If his mind hadn’t already been made up before, this would’ve done it. Wakatoshi was going to have a word with his father.

“Hmm. Come with me,” Wakatoshi said, standing as his royal garb swished around him. The fabric was layered, cream and gold shades that went well with his warmer skin tone. Stiff cream-coloured pants that were difficult to move in, a loose cream blouse, and a long cape of cream adorned with gold embellishments. Wakatoshi did not have a preference for his clothing, except that it be breathable.

Satori stood up as well, dusting off the knees of his trousers, which were a dark brown and threadbare, almost completely worn away in some places. His white shirt had long sleeves and a small V that was laced together with string, dirtied with the dust that came off the arid land surrounding the castle. Patches dotted the white shirt, clearly stitched with an inexperienced hand, likely Satori’s own. 

“Where are we going? You know I can’t stray too far, what if Pa needs me?” Satori wondered, following dutifully at Wakatoshi’s side, and Wakatoshi chose not to answer. Words took too much effort sometimes. Besides, he wanted to know if Satori would still follow him, even without a logical reason or explanation as to why. So, the pair continued in comfortable quiet, the hustle and bustle of the servants ever within earshot.

“Wakatoshi, we’re getting awfully close to the palace,” Satori said nervously a few minutes later, his hands twitching more than usual. Wakatoshi frowned. He hadn’t thought of the fact that the whipping post was in a courtyard adjacent to the palace’s entrance, and that Satori might feel worse upon coming there. 

“We are going to my rooms. You need medical attention, and I did not bring any of my supplies with me to the gardens,” Wakatoshi explained, leading Satori the long way around the palace so they would not have to pass too closely by the courtyard that held the whipping post. Satori grabbed his arm gently, stopping Wakatoshi in his tracks as he looked at the heir with wide, fearful eyes. 

“ Wakatoshi! I can’t come with you! What if I’m caught? I’ll be sent to the post for consorting with the emperor’s son, or worse ,” Satori hissed, keeping his voice low as his eyes darted around them wildly, as if someone might see and report him immediately. Wakatoshi’s father and his vile punishments were well-known around the palace and in the kingdom for being well-enforced, so he could understand why Satori was so afraid. And yet, the anger in Wakatoshi seemed to rise insurmountably. How dare someone make his brave, wonderful, bright friend cower like this? 

“No one will touch you, Satori,” Wakatoshi paused thoughtfully. “However, if it makes you feel better, this passageway is out-of-date and hardly used. It leads directly to the fifth wing of the palace, so we should not be seen,” He explained, somewhat unused to doing so. Normally, Satori followed Wakatoshi’s thought process without him having to say a word, but this was not very normal for them. Satori looked relieved at the information, his rigid grip on Wakatoshi’s arm loosening enough for Wakatoshi to pull away. After a moment’s thought, Wakatoshi offered his hand, making Satori look at him gratefully before interlacing their fingers together tightly.

The passageway was out-of-date, as Wakatoshi said, covered in a fine layer of bronze-coloured dust with cobwebs decorating almost every available surface. No windows were shining into it, unlike the rest of the palace, which was enveloped with them. Still, Wakatoshi walked through the corridor with a practised sort of familiarity, avoiding the bigger cobwebs and leading Satori around corners and through twists and turns easily. It led directly to the fifth palace wing, which meant it only went in one direction. Wakatoshi supposed it might’ve been an escape route for former royalty that had since fallen into disrepair, but that didn’t matter anymore. 

“How do you know about this?” Satori’s fear seemed to have ebbed in favour of awe, his eyes flitting across the cracked sandstone walls. While there were no windows, a faint light seemed to permeate the stones, meaning that it was just bright enough to make out each other in the corridor. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness, it became easier to see where they were going, but Wakatoshi could walk the path with his eyes closed. He’d snuck out many times before at night when the glow faded completely.

“It leads directly to my rooms, and I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. One day, I noticed a draft and found the door to this hall underneath a large tapestry. I am not sure my parents know of it,” Wakatoshi said, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing back at them slightly. Satori huddled closer to him as they walked, his grip on Wakatoshi’s hand tightening.

“Were you lonely, Waka-chan?” Satori wondered, keeping his tone low. Probably so as to not disturb any spirits roaming around, because Satori was superstitious like that. Wakatoshi himself did not quite understand or believe in the gods that his father did, or any of the others that were in their kingdom. Satori, however, was a different story. 

“No. I do not believe I was lonely, because I didn’t have anything to compare my solitude to.” Wakatoshi chose not to speak further, to explain that if Satori left him now, he would be incredibly lonely. It did not feel like something he could say. From the way Satori gave his hand a gentle squeeze, he supposed that perhaps the other boy knew anyway, without Wakatoshi having to utter a single word.

“We’re here,” Wakatoshi announced, pausing in front of a seemingly nondescript sandstone wall. “I’ll have to let go of your hand for a moment, Satori,” He murmured apologetically, untangling their fingers as he stepped forward. Wakatoshi didn’t spare a moment before reaching out, pressing three sandstone bricks hard enough to push them into small depressions. A second later, a slight creaky noise and rumble happened as a section of the wall pulled into itself, revealing the back of a woven tapestry.

“Whoa,” Satori exhaled softly, stepping forward and pausing when Wakatoshi didn’t immediately walk in, too. He offered a sheepish smile. “I mean, uh, can I come in, Wakatoshi-kun?” Satori asked politely, making Wakatoshi blink in surprise for an instant before he nodded his head in answer. It didn’t occur to him that Satori would want to ask permission from the way the other boy was always invading Wakatoshi’s space, whether it was physical or verbal.

“This room is so big, goodness, Wakatoshi,” Satori exclaimed, slipping out from under the heavy tapestry and looking around Wakatoshi’s bedroom with wide eyes. He refrained from mentioning that this was only one room of three; a bedroom, a large bathroom, and an extra room Wakatoshi had never figured out the purpose of. He used it to house his extracurricular activity supplies and small loveseat, although he never had anyone to sit on it. 

“Thank you, I think,” Wakatoshi hummed, leaving Satori to explore as he went to the bathroom. He was looking for the particular healing cream the royal apothecary had gifted him after a fencing duel had gone wrong. Since he was the heir, it had been the best that was available readily, despite Wakatoshi’s wound being no more than a scratch. His father was detestable sometimes, but at least, he made sure his heir was well-taken care of. 

While he was in the bathroom, Wakatoshi quickly cleansed his hands of any germs from the gardens. He worried that if he touched Satori’s wounds with dirty hands Satori would get an infection and die. Wakatoshi couldn’t handle that, thank you very much.

“I found it,” Wakatoshi said calmly, examining the small jar for any sort of warnings as he walked back into his bedroom. The paste didn’t appear to have expired, so Wakatoshi was almost certain that it was safe for use. Besides, his injury had not been that long ago, only a week and a handful of days. Wakatoshi lifted his gaze, surprised to find his friend curled into a ball in the middle of his bed, eyes closed as a small whistling noise came from his parted lips. 

Wakatoshi frowned. As much as he did not mind Satori in his space, or sleeping for that matter, they had risked coming to his rooms for a reason. Wakatoshi did not want Satori’s injuries to get infected and his friend to come down with a terrible plague. He came close to the bed, taking a seat near Satori’s sleeping form. He seemed smaller, surrounded by Wakatoshi’s extraordinarily large bed with its opulent covers and many pillows.

“Satori,” Wakatoshi said firmly, though not unkindly. His hand drifted forward without his permission as if to brush some of Satori’s soft-looking fringe, but Wakatoshi refrained from doing so with all the strength of a trained warrior. “Please, you need to wake up. You may sleep afterwards if you like, but I would prefer to apply the ointment sooner rather than later,” He coaxed quietly, nudging Satori’s shoulder.

Satori made a small, listless noise before blinking blearily. He lifted red eyes to Wakatoshi’s face, flushing a dark scarlet to match his hair. He scrambled upright, lifting his hand and mussing his hair. Wakatoshi presumed he was trying to tidy it from sleep, but Satori’s movements were too clumsy and quick to have much of the desired effect.

“Wakatoshi! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Satori apologised, ducking his head with a sheepish smile, and Wakatoshi shrugged. “Especially in your bed…” The other boy mumbled, keeping his eyes firmly on the bedcovers. Wakatoshi frowned. He didn’t see what that had to do with anything.

“It’s fine, Satori. I found the salve. Please show me your injuries,” Wakatoshi replied, holding up the small jar in his hand to show Satori. Satori nodded, turning so that his back was facing Wakatoshi, pulling up his shirt with nimble fingers. Wakatoshi wisely did not mention how he could see that they were shaking. He inhaled sharply at the mess of bloody tissue on Satori’s back, still raw from a punishment that couldn’t have been more than a few days ago. Some of the lashes were scabbing over, and none were bleeding, but the sight was still enough to harden Wakatoshi’s resolve. 

“This…will probably hurt, Satori. I am sorry,” Wakatoshi apologised earnestly, and Satori huffed a small laugh. 

“‘S okay, Wakatoshi-kun. Not your fault, is it?” Satori asked playfully, trying to keep his tone light, and falling just short. Wakatoshi frowned. As if realising his laissez-faire manner wasn’t getting him anywhere in terms of reassuring his friend, Satori changed tactics. “I can handle it, ‘Toshi. Don’t worry,” He assured.

Wakatoshi unscrewed the lid to the jar, dipping his fingertips into the sharp-smelling paste. The apothecary had applied the medicine to Wakatoshi’s skin directly, and while it had stung, his wound had been relatively minor. He frowned as he returned his attention to Satori’s back, a sort of deceptive calm coming over him. The only way Wakatoshi would be able to get through this was if he distanced himself from the situation at hand and allowed his body to function on autopilot. Otherwise, he was worried he might go a little berserk. Satori, to his credit, remained stoic with only a few acute noises of pain escaping him. Each one felt like a red-hot poker stabbed violently into Wakatoshi’s heart.

A long, excruciating time later, Wakatoshi was finally done. It felt like an eternity had passed, though in actuality could not have been more than half an hour. He screwed the lid back onto the jar and placed it on his bedside table, making a mental note to visit the royal apothecary again soon. Satori would require extensive care, after all, and Wakatoshi would not allow anyone else to do it but himself. 

“Satori?” Wakatoshi murmured, reaching out gently to touch Satori’s arm before remembering that his hands were still covered in the salve. He snagged a handkerchief from his end table, wiping his hands of the excess goo before lightly brushing Satori’s arm. The other boy didn’t jerk away, although Wakatoshi thought such a reaction would’ve been warranted, but instead glanced at him before sighing. Wakatoshi’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Perhaps, try to sleep, Satori. I must visit my father for a moment, but it should not take too long. I’ll be back soon,” He said soothingly, his concern only growing when he didn’t receive even a slight tilt of the lips in response. Satori merely nodded, drawing his legs up to his chest, a strange sort of faraway look in his startling red eyes. Wakatoshi frowned. He didn’t want to leave Satori in such a state, especially when he helped cause it, but talking to his father was important. He couldn’t let Satori get hurt again. Wakatoshi wouldn’t know how to live with himself if such a thing happened.

“I am…I am very sorry to cause you pain, Satori,” Wakatoshi said softly, turning his gaze to the door. He climbed off his bed, not sparing a glance at the boy he left behind as he swept out into the hallway. The door was shut carefully behind him to ease Satori’s conscience. Wakatoshi strode through the winding and twisting corridors, internally rehearsing what he would say to his father when he found the man. 

Obviously, procuring Satori’s safety was the most important thing on his list. However, Wakatoshi didn’t just want Satori’s safety. He wanted the person who dared to hurt his friend punished, and for Satori to gain immunity and rest days in order to recover from his injuries. Wakatoshi was unsure of how long that would take but made a mental guesstimate, erring on the side of caution. His father was a proud man, however, and Wakatoshi knew he’d ask for something in return. Wakatoshi’s compliance in the torture of their people, or perhaps, something else altogether.

Wakatoshi continued walking, deep in thought, the servants bustling around him going unnoticed. If he had surfaced from his musings, perhaps he would’ve noticed the exorbitant amount of finery the servants both carried and wore, dressed in their finest garb with arms full of Shiratorizawa delicacies and precious fabrics. As it was, however, Wakatoshi’s gaze was kept firmly on the long, dark purple runner. 

Wakatoshi found his father in the throne room, unsurprisingly. He was almost certain that the emperor spent more time admiring himself in all his opulence while sitting on a gilded throne built on the blood of their people rather than with Wakatoshi’s mother. Takashi had once been a kind man. There was a fleeting memory of a gentle smile and rosiness that Wakatoshi carried of his father like a secret. However, whatever traces of that man had since been buried under the ruthless apathy that stared back at Wakatoshi. He inclined his head, dipping into a slight bow as he approached his father.

Respect was key here. Respect and fear, for Wakatoshi’s father was the sort of man who liked when others cowered before him.

“Father,” Wakatoshi said, tone clipped. Takashi arched an eyebrow, likely at the bristling anger roiling in Wakatoshi’s voice. For years, his son had not shown any emotion beyond curiosity, boredom, or fear to him. Wakatoshi breathed in deeply, resolving to bite his tongue as he straightened out of his bow without waiting for his father’s permission. The corner of Takashi’s lips curled into a sneer, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I have come to secure the protection of Tendou Satori.” There was no hint of recognition on Takashi’s face. No sign at all that he remembered the mere child he had whipped before the servants of the palace. Wakatoshi bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. Takashi’s sneer turned lazy, and he examined the rings on his left hand, a silent prompt for Wakatoshi to continue talking. He would not speak until he saw fit, and Wakatoshi gritted his teeth. 

“He was punished recently for allowing chickens to escape and received ten lashes at the post.” Wakatoshi took another deep breath. “You will not harm him again, nor will you allow anyone else to do so. As long as our family rules this kingdom, Tendou Satori and his family, present and future members, will be under our protection.” The corners of Takashi’s eyes tightened, but he otherwise did not react. Wakatoshi knew that he had his father’s attention now, however. To demand the protection of an entire bloodline was not something many would dare, but Wakatoshi was not just anyone. He was the son of the emperor and empress, the rightful heir of Shiratorizawa, and he would use his heritage for the betterment of others. 

“If you do not comply with my requests, I will invoke the Peace Absolute. ” Wakatoshi stared defiantly at his father, whose eyes had gone wide. The Peace Absolute was a permanent law of sorts, one that was invoked when an emperor had too many heirs. Whichever heir invoked it would be blacked from the family bloodline and safe from their siblings’ bloodlust and power schemes, as they would not be allowed to become emperor anymore. Wakatoshi, however, was the only heir of Shiratorizawa because his mother had been unable to have any children after him. As the emperor, Takashi was forbidden to take a second wife, at least until Wakatoshi’s mother passed on cleanly. Takashi would be disgraced by the royal officers were he to have a child with another woman who wasn’t his wife, meaning that Wakatoshi had backed him into a complete corner. Takashi was a horrible man with great power, but he could not contest a Peace Absolute, and he would rather die before he allowed someone other than the Ushijimas to ascend the throne. 

Wakatoshi had won.

“Fine,” His father said, almost spitting the word. “But you will not contest me. I shall grant your little serving boy protection, but in exchange, you will welcome your betrothed with open arms.” Takashi sneered, and Wakatoshi resolved not to show the surprise on his face. He knew, eventually, that he would be married off. It was how his mother and father became engaged and eventually married, but Wakatoshi hadn’t expected his betrothal so soon. Takashi was a smart man. Wakatoshi gladly would’ve contested such an early betrothal, if not for Satori.

“I agree to the terms,” Wakatoshi relinquished, the almost familiar metallic taste of blood in his mouth once more. His father smirked. 

“Good. Come along now, it is time for you to meet the Princess of Karasuno, your fiancée.” Takashi instructed, standing from his throne and sweeping into the room adjacent to the throne room, the place where they met foreign dignitaries. Wakatoshi scowled at his father’s back, forehead creasing. He promised Satori he would be back soon, and he did not know how long this would take. 

Part of Wakatoshi was also apprehensive about meeting the Princess. He dearly hoped she was his age and that she didn’t have preconceived notions about how their relationship would function. Wakatoshi would be polite, and civil, and perhaps they could be friends, but he didn’t even like thinking about romance. Not with his parents’ failed betrothal hanging over his head like a permanent dark cloud.

When they entered the room, the first thing Wakatoshi noticed was how pale the Karasuno royals were. They had fair skin, like that of the milk Wakatoshi sometimes had with breakfast, and it was vaguely surprising. Everyone in Shiratorizawa ranged from caramel to mahogany with plenty of shades between. The next thing Wakatoshi noticed was the Northerners’ pale blond hair, almost straw-coloured. He wrinkled his nose. The royalty’s garb was blue and grey, nothing like the rich, extravagant dyes of Shiratorizawa. It seemed dreary, almost, though Wakatoshi refrained from saying such.

Takashi went through the usual introductions, thankfully requiring nothing more than a bow from Wakatoshi. It left him free to study the delicate Princess of Karasuno, who looked to be half-drowning in the gown she had been stuffed into. The Northerners did not know how to dress properly, it seemed. The Princess shied away from his unflinching stare, looking small in the layers of ice blue that surrounded her. She looked fragile, like her bones were hollow as birds’ were. Shiratorizawa was a kingdom known for its warfare and strength, taking pride in it with the summer war festival, but the Princess of Karasuno looked like she’d sooner faint than hold a dagger.

After Takashi and the Princess’s parents took a seat at one end of the table, the Princess and Wakatoshi were instructed to do the same at the other end. Presumably to make nice while their parents formed some kind of alliance or contract. Wakatoshi bit his lip as he sat down stiffly, wondering how much time had passed since he left Satori. He hoped that Satori had been able to fall asleep, so he wouldn’t feel Wakatoshi’s absence as keenly. 

“Good afternoon,” Wakatoshi greeted awkwardly, noticing the way the Princess still wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she scratched lightly at the top of their redwood table, making slight etchings Wakatoshi couldn’t decipher. He sighed heavily. This would not be a very fun betrothal if his fiancée was scared stiff the entire time. 

“My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. I am ten years old, and I do not want to get married to you. I already have a best friend, so you can’t be that, either, but maybe we could be regular friends?” Wakatoshi suggested bluntly, causing the Princess to glance up and finally meet his eyes head-on. She bit her lower lip, her hand shaking visibly. He wrinkled his nose. Why was she so nervous? He wasn’t going to eat her or anything, though she looked at Wakatoshi akin to how one might look at a hungry bear.

“My name is, um, Yachi Hitoka. I’m eleven years old, and I, uh, I don’t want to get married to you, either. My best friend is Tadashi. Who’s yours?” Hitoka asked curiously, momentarily forgetting her anxiety. Her voice was high and reedy, reminding Wakatoshi of the bluebirds that chirped outside of his window every morning. Wakatoshi blinked, eyebrows furrowed. He hadn’t expected Hitoka to want to get to know him. Most of the other royalty he met had been self-absorbed, like Oikawa Tooru from Seijoh.

“His name is Tendou Satori. I… He was hurt recently, and I am worried about leaving him alone,” Wakatoshi admitted, wondering if he could slip away. If Hitoka backed him up in front of their parents, Takashi would be hard-pressed not to let him leave. Hitoka flinched at the mention of being hurt, her fingers nervously tap-tap-tapping against the tabletop over the etchings she’d made. 

“Is he okay?” Hitoka asked, empathy written across her face, and Wakatoshi frowned.

“No. He’s not okay,” He answered truthfully, making Hitoka grow even paler, if possible. 

“Goodness. You should be with him, then, if he’s your best friend! Why aren’t you with him now?” Hitoka exclaimed before turning a shade of dark red, realising why, exactly, Wakatoshi simply couldn’t leave. “Oh. I’m sorry, Ushijima-san. Maybe I could ask my parents to come to your room…and we could, ah, go visit your friend instead?” She asked, her tone wavering even as determination shone in her brown eyes.

Wakatoshi pursed his lips. Maybe he had judged Hitoka too quickly. There was a thread of steel in her personality, the kind he would expect from citizens of Shiratorizawa. Perhaps, Hitoka felt empathy so strongly that she was willing to put aside her nerves and anxieties for an injured boy she’d never met. Wakatoshi found that he admired that quality in her, especially when no such thing had manifested itself in him. 

“Perhaps, it would work. If you would be willing to try?” Wakatoshi wondered hesitantly, so unused to having to factor another person into his whims. Normally, he did not rely on the help of others, unless it was Satori. Clearly, the other boy was different, because he was Wakatoshi’s best friend. However, Hitoka was just a stranger. A kind-hearted Princess with bird bones who wanted to help him out. He didn’t know how he felt about owing such a debt to someone. 

“Of course!” Hitoka sprang from her seat with surprising agility, considering the mounds of fabric she was swathed with. Wakatoshi waited at the end of the table, his hands clasped in his lap as he thought about Satori. The amount of worry he held for the other boy was not unexpected, exactly, but a heavy weight nonetheless. He would feel much better once he had Satori within touching distance, along with being able to see for himself that his best friend was okay. 

After a few minutes, Wakatoshi chanced a glance at the other end of the room. Hitoka’s parents wore an amused, fond smile, as her father patted her head, like they were incredibly happy to indulge their daughter in her whims. By contrast, Takashi wore a practised, polite smile, but his brown eyes showed his true feelings: anger and disgust. Whether it was because of Hitoka’s request or because she had interrupted them at all, which Wakatoshi was forbidden to do, he could not tell. Hitoka flounced back over to where Wakatoshi was sitting, wearing a broad grin. Instead of asking, Wakatoshi merely stood and offered his arm to the Princess. She seemed surprised for a moment before smiling graciously and accepting the silent offer. 

It was not necessarily a short walk back to the fifth wing of the palace, but it was spent in comfortable silence. The servants paid them no mind, which Wakatoshi privately considered a win. They had likely been instructed by his father to remain as invisible as possible, meaning they avoided eye contact. The servants ran the risk of offending visiting nobility and getting punished if they made eye contact with a royal who preferred their servants not to. Hitoka, to her credit, walked in her layers of icy blue fabric like she’d been doing it all her life. She strode through the corridors with her head held high, looking so confident that Wakatoshi would not have asked her where she was going if he weren’t with her. Perhaps, Hitoka would faint were she to touch a dagger, but there was a different sort of strength in a courteous manner. Wakatoshi lacked the latter quite severely, so he could appreciate it when he saw it. 

“We’re here,” Wakatoshi announced, fishing a key from a chain around his neck and unlocking the mahogany door in front of them. Hitoka disentangled their arms, entering first when Wakatoshi held the door open, waiting for her. She paid no mind to the finery decorating Wakatoshi’s walls, likely used to it after living in a castle all her life. Karasuno’s main export was fine gems and precious metals because of the jewel mines that lay beneath their ground, probably the reason Takashi was so inclined to acquire an alliance with Hitoka’s family. It made sense that Hitoka wouldn’t bat an eye at any form of opulence.

“Wakatoshi! You’re back!” Satori rushed in from the bedroom, throwing his spindly arms around Wakatoshi and hanging off of his neck. Wakatoshi smiled, hugging his best friend back, carefully avoiding the places where Satori’s wounds were the most tender. Satori pulled away from the hug, his smile tinged with relief. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t come back. I know you said you’d be back shortly, but it’s been a while, and I didn’t want to leave, but I thought maybe you’d gotten hurt, and…” Satori’s rambles slowly trailed off as he noticed Hitoka standing in the room with them, his forehead creasing in confusion. He crossed his arms over his chest subconsciously, probably trying to maintain some semblance of privacy. Hitoka offered a sheepish smile, cheeks tinted bright red. Strangely, she didn’t seem like she was about to faint. Wakatoshi would’ve thought her squeamish about blood and injuries alike.

“Hello. My name is Yachi Hitoka,” Hitoka introduced herself, a lot more calmly than she had with Wakatoshi, as she curtsied. Satori blinked, drifting back and closer into Wakatoshi’s bubble of personal space. “Ushijima-san told me you're his best friend, you know. He was really worried about leaving you alone, and I wanted to meet you, but I can leave,” Hitoka continued, talking to Satori as if they were sharing a secret, and Satori’s lips twitched at the corners a little. He was trying to resist the urge to smile, probably, because of the annoying children who had told him it was creepy.

“Were you really worried?” Satori asked suddenly, twisting slightly to peer at Wakatoshi. His cheeks warmed under the intense scrutiny and he felt like accusing Hitoka of betraying his confidence, but it was Satori. Wakatoshi could never hide anything from Satori. He looks off to the side, ears burning in embarrassment.

“Of course,” Wakatoshi answered, sounding gruff, and Hitoka let out a small giggle. When Satori’s attention alighted back on her, she offered a sweet smile. It seemed to put Satori at ease, which was a relief for Wakatoshi. It would be better for all of them if Hitoka and Satori were civil, especially because they would be seeing each other often now that Wakatoshi and Hitoka were engaged. 

“So charming, Wakatoshi-kun,” Satori teased, making Wakatoshi shrug. He did not particularly care whether or not he was charming, as Satori said, but he supposed it wasn’t a bad quality to have. Somehow, though, Wakatoshi was almost certain that Satori was the only one who thought he possessed said quality. Hitoka grinned, glancing back and forth between them with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Well, I had best be off! Knowing them, my parents would try to leave me here so we could bond, ” Hitoka said playfully with a wink, and Wakatoshi smiled good-naturedly. Yes, he had decided, he enjoyed Hitoka’s company enough to not mind their betrothal. “I’ll write to you soon, Ushijima-san! Goodbye, Tendou-san!” Without waiting for even an offer of an escort, Hitoka left the room, blue fabric swooshing behind her. Wakatoshi blinked, shaking his head in exasperation. He did not think he would ever figure Hitoka out, even by the time they knew each other for years.

“Who was she?” Satori wondered, raising an eyebrow at Wakatoshi, and he shrugged. 

“My betrothed,” Wakatoshi answered, making the colour drain from Satori’s face abruptly. The other boy’s slight smile faded and he blinked, shock and other emotions Wakatoshi couldn’t identify swirling in his red eyes. 

“Your… betrothed. I didn’t know you were looking to get married, eh, Wakatoshi-kun?” Satori joked, nudging Wakatoshi’s side with his elbow, and Wakatoshi rolled his eyes. 

“I am not. My father seems to think it will benefit Shiratorizawa, however,” He explained casually, and Satori’s eyebrows furrowed. He scowled, suddenly looking very annoyed.

“Rude of him. Even if he’s the emperor, he shouldn’t dictate who you marry,” Satori grumbled, all traces of fear of Wakatoshi’s father gone in favour of irritation.

“Don’t mind it. It’s not a big deal, and Hitoka is not a particularly distasteful person to be engaged with. I’m sure with time we will become great friends. Given the circumstances, that is the best I could hope for,” Wakatoshi admitted with a shrug, and Satori’s scowl deepened like he wanted to press the issue. He kept his mouth shut, however, pressing his lips tightly together as if it would help him keep whatever words brewing inside his head from launching themselves into the world.

“Come, Satori. You need to rest. Besides, I would like to read a bit,” Wakatoshi coaxed, gently pulling Satori towards his bedroom. The other boy raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. 

“I’m fine, Wakatoshi! I don’t need any more rest,” Satori grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Wakatoshi rolled his eyes. See, he had known that Satori would respond like that. He was notorious for not accepting help, even when he was permitted to. Some of Satori’s bluster faded upon catching sight of Wakatoshi’s face.

“But, I guess, uh, if you felt like sitting around and reading, I could keep you company. I wouldn’t want you to get lonely, Wakatoshi-kun!” Satori added cheerfully, giving Wakatoshi a broad smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Wakatoshi’s lips quirked in return as he nodded his head.

“Yes, Satori, I would be terribly lonely without you. Shall I read aloud?” Wakatoshi murmured, pulling a novel about a dashing adventurer who had to journey all over his continent in order to save the world. Satori brightened at the prospect of story-time. As a palace servant, he couldn’t read. Most children of Shiratorizawa were bound by law to attend school until they reached the age of sixteen, but the children of the palace servants were often put to work as soon as they were seven or older. If their parent sought fit to seek employment elsewhere, the child could be enrolled in school, but otherwise, they received no education. Wakatoshi thought it was a massive oversight on his father’s part, but a small part of him wondered if it was intentional. Servants’ children usually became servants themselves. 

As Wakatoshi began reading the story aloud to Satori, who was curled at his side as they laid on his bed, Wakatoshi supposed that now that Satori was under the emperor’s protection, there was no punishment stopping him from using his free time to learn. Wakatoshi’s tutors were at his beck-and-call for the most part, so it wouldn’t be difficult to get Satori suitable teachers…

⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“Wakatoshi-kun!” Satori’s joyful call garnered Wakatoshi’s attention immediately. He looked to his left, unsurprised to find his best friend sitting on top of the half-wall that surrounded the palace gardens, his legs swinging wildly. Wakatoshi offered a polite bow towards Hitoka’s parents, who shared a look before nodding with benevolent smiles. He was lucky they’d never been the strict type, Wakatoshi supposed, but his and Hitoka’s engagement (or allegiance, whatever way you look at it) was ironclad. They couldn’t back out without it being an act of war, and vice versa. 

“Satori,” Wakatoshi greeted calmly as he walked away from the Northern royals, looking up at Satori. The half-wall only reached about mid-waist on Wakatoshi, but since he and Satori were nearly the same height, it meant Wakatoshi had to look up in order to maintain eye contact. Satori grinned broadly, wiggling his fingers in a little wave at Hitoka’s parents. The Northerners were almost as used to Satori hanging around as Hitoka was⎯ they were also laxer with formalities as a whole. 

“What are you doing?” Wakatoshi asked, somewhat bemused, and Satori returned his attention to him. The redhead’s smile stretched, revealing too-sharp canines that gleamed in the sunlight. Wakatoshi’s lips twitched in response. Satori’s legs dangled in front of Wakatoshi, swinging less vigorously now, so as to avoid smacking Wakatoshi in the face. He was appreciative of that.

“Oh, nothing! Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Satori replied dismissively, jumping down from the half-wall and landing gracefully on his feet. Looking at him, you wouldn’t expect Satori to be graceful. He was a lanky mess of ungainly, spindly limbs and narrow features, but Wakatoshi had honestly never met someone more lithe or dexterous. 

“Hm. Shouldn’t you be baking with Washijo-san?” Wakatoshi asked disapprovingly, offering his arm, which Satori ignored as he continued down the path in front of them. Satori whistled cheerfully, not giving Wakatoshi an answer, which was an answer in and of itself. Washijo wasn’t the nicest man, after all, and Satori’s temperament took a little getting used to. However, Washijo was the type who didn’t care about the process as much as he did the end result, leaving Satori free to experiment. 

They were a surprisingly good combination. The palace’s foods had never been tastier, at least. 

“Give me a moment,” Wakatoshi said to Satori, who gave him a merry look. The prince turned away from his friend, walking the short distance back to Hitoka’s parents, who were conversing in low tones. They were speaking the language of their lands⎯ Wakatoshi had been learning some, but he wasn’t very good at it. He cleared his throat to let them know of his approach, startling the pair out of their conversation. Queen Aia faced him with a pleasant expression, while King Benjiro looked mildly displeased. Wakatoshi was baffled by the change in the King’s demeanour, but he didn’t allow that to show on his face. 

“I apologise for the interruption. Would you like to continue the tour of the gardens? Our resident gardener just planted some resplendent golden suncups,” Wakatoshi offered with his usual polite look, and the royals shared a secretive glance before focusing back on Wakatoshi. The golden suncups were gorgeous, and one of Wakatoshi’s favourite flowers, but he was only offering for the sake of appeasing his father. For some reason Wakatoshi could not comprehend, Takashi wanted him to get along with his in-laws. 

“Ah, no, that’s fine, Wakatoshi-kun! Why don’t you run along and find Hitoka? I dearly hope she isn’t hanging around the knights again, I don’t want her gown to get dirty,” Queen Aia talked with a charming smile, but the words she spoke rankled Wakatoshi. In Shiratorizawa, anyone able-bodied could be a soldier, regardless of who they were. Status did not matter, and, of course, neither did gender. If you were willing to fight, you were accepted. Whether or not you survived training was another matter. 

“Yes, I shall go do that..” Wakatoshi agreed stiffly, only years of decorum saving face. He wanted to tell Queen Aia that her views were outdated and unbefitting of someone of her intelligence, but he knew that was exactly what his father did not mean when he told Wakatoshi to play nice. Queen Aia’s smile grew and she shooed Wakatoshi away, who wasted no time before walking back to Satori. 

“Oooh, something’s got Wakatoshi-kun annoyed, huh?” Satori teased, his long fingers twisting weeds (Flowers, Satori’s voice in Wakatoshi’s head argued, weeds could never be so pretty) into chains. Wakatoshi shook his head, pulling Satori by the elbow firmly in the direction of the palace training grounds. The imperial army trained elsewhere in the kingdom, of course, but the emperor’s personal guard had their own quarters, armoury, and grounds inside the palace estate.

“Queen Aia said something vexing,” Wakatoshi offered by way of explanation once they were safely out of earshot. Satori quirked an eyebrow with a comically surprised look, tilting his head to the right. He always had a penchant for dramatics, unlike Wakatoshi, who preferred everything to be simple and concise. 

“She acted like Hitoka shouldn’t be allowed near the knights, simply because she is a woman and wears a gown. I don’t understand it,” Wakatoshi commented thoughtfully, giving Satori a cursory glance. The latter frowned, his nose wrinkling. Much like Wakatoshi, he was raised in Shiratorizawa, although the pale skin of him and his father made it clear they harkened from farther North. Satori had never dealt with perceived gender norms, so he was as off-put by the suggestion as Wakatoshi was. 

“My, my~ How strange! Are you sure you want to marry into this family, eh, Waka-kun?” Satori teased, elbowing Wakatoshi’s side. The latter shrugged, his lips ticking into a small smile. 

“You know I do not, Satori. It’s not like I can get out of it, however,” Wakatoshi said nonchalantly, having long since accepted his fate. Besides, Hitoka was a lovely woman, and Wakatoshi didn’t mind the thought of being married to her. Luckily, she understood as well as he did that there would be no romantic feelings in their marriage⎯ but that didn’t mean it had to be loveless. Satori nodded, his expression growing a little darker. For reasons Wakatoshi wasn’t privy to, Satori didn’t like talk of upcoming nuptials. 

“Wakatoshi-kun!” Hitoka said joyfully, weaving amongst one-on-one sparrers. She crossed the dusty plain of a training field with ease, jumping and leaping into Wakatoshi’s arms. “I missed you! Did mother and father enjoy the gardens?” She asked, squeezing her arms tightly around Wakatoshi’s neck. He grinned, hugging Hitoka in return. 

“Sort of. Satori interrupted us before we could finish the tour,” Wakatoshi explained, nodding in Satori’s vague direction. The redhead wore a brooding expression, but it brightened when he caught Wakatoshi’s eye. Hitoka laughed, escaping Wakatoshi’s arms and turning to Satori with a brilliant beam. 

“Good morning, Tendou!” Hitoka greeted, making Satori adopt a playful smirk. He bowed, pretending to tip his hat to the Princess. She giggled, delighted, and a smile tugged at Wakatoshi’s lips again. His two favourite people got along in the strangest of ways, but Wakatoshi was glad they enjoyed each other’s company instead of fruitlessly disliking one another. 

“Fair morning, my lady. And how are you?” Satori asked, offering his arm to Hitoka as the pair strolled back through the knights’ training grounds. Wakatoshi shook his head fondly, deftly following them on quiet feet.

“Wonderful! The soldiers are all very welcoming, and Nai-chan offered to teach me some basic defence,” Hitoka seemed incredibly happy at the prospect of learning to fight, although Wakatoshi was unsure of how she planned to do so when dressed in layers of peach fabric. The dress was pretty, surely, and complemented Hitoka’s hair, but it wasn’t very practical to walk the grounds in, let alone learn to fight. 

“Nai-chan? Who’s that?” Satori did not keep track of the soldiers and guards the palace held, so he, of course, wouldn’t know ‘Nai-chan’ was the same person as Amanai Kanoka. Amanai was one of Wakatoshi’s best knights, second only to the captain of the guild; Tanaka Ryuunosuke. Hitoka’s face flushed red, and although Wakatoshi was sure it could’ve been from the heat, a part of him suspected it had to do with entirely different reasons. 

“Oops, sorry. Amanai Kanoka! She’s been a real treasure, showing me around the palace and kingdom when she has the time,” Hitoka said, all smiles, and Wakatoshi shared a private, knowing glance with Satori before the latter looked back at the girl on his arm. It would be good for Hitoka to seek a relationship elsewhere, in Wakatoshi’s opinion, if she so desired companionship. Amanai was trustworthy, reliable on the field. There wasn’t anyone much better for Hitoka, Wakatoshi was sure. 

“There she is now!” Hitoka pointed out, waving broadly to Amanai, who was in the middle of sparring against a recruit⎯ Lev Haiba. Wakatoshi would be able to recognise those sharply green eyes anywhere, uncommon as they were. Amanai caught sight of them, her lips turning up at the corners. She slammed the butt of her sword on top of Haiba’s helmet and he crumpled like a rag doll. Amanai stood up to her full height, returning the wave Hitoka had given her.

“Princess Hitoka,” Amanai greeted as they drew closer, and Hitoka smiled prettily. Amanai took off her helmet, resting it against her hipbone as she wiped her forehead clean of sweat with her free hand. “I see your betrothed has come to collect you,” Amanai remarked, bowing her head before her eyes could meet Wakatoshi’s. He mirrored the gesture, touched by the sign of respect. 

“Hey, Amanai, no fair!” Haiba complained good-naturedly, having sufficiently recovered from the blow to his head. He stood up, taking off his helmet and shaking out his hair. Sweat dripped down his temple and despite his words, he wore a playfully exasperated expression. Amanai laughed, shaking her head. 

“It was completely fair. You’re just upset that you lost,” She teased, jabbing Haiba in the side with her elbow. Haiba snorted, finally catching sight of the people in their midst. He smirked, cat-eyes sliding off of Hitoka before dancing across Satori’s form and lingering there before catching Wakatoshi’s gaze. 

“Ah, I didn’t realise the emperor’s son was here to witness my grisly defeat,” Haiba’s eyes sparkled. “I promise, I’m a much better soldier than Amanai shows me to be.” Haiba winked, and Wakatoshi blinked, startled by such forwardness. Normally, soldiers became stiff in his presence, worried he’d find something amiss and report it to his father. To have such effortless confidence, and to wink, nonetheless, Wakatoshi supposed that Haiba must’ve been an incredibly carefree man. Satori’s face tightened, lips curling into a displeased frown. Wakatoshi couldn’t imagine why the sudden change in mood, and he resolved to ask Satori about it later⎯ perhaps his best friend was coming down with something?

“I’m sure you have skills worthy of being in the imperial guild, Haiba-san,” Wakatoshi agreed formally, unsure of where he stood with Haiba just yet, and the other man surprised him by throwing his head back and laughing. The motion showed off his long, graceful neck, and Wakatoshi’s mouth felt inexplicably dry before he glanced away. 

“You sure are something, aren’t you, Ushijima?” Haiba asked cheekily, and Wakatoshi shrugged, only mildly confused. “And, please, call me Lev.” Although they were not close to each other⎯ Wakatoshi had only ever observed Haiba from afar after he was recruited⎯, Wakatoshi could not find it in himself to deny Haiba’s request.  

“Wakatoshi-kun!” Satori interjected, faux-cheerfully. Wakatoshi’s eyebrows drew together as his gaze flitted to Satori. The other man’s face was pinched, more displeased than it had been before. For whatever reason, it appeared that Haiba got on Satori’s nerves. “We’ve got to get the Princess to her chambers, remember? I wouldn’t want her or you to be late for your dinner with the parents!” Satori reminded, and Wakatoshi nodded, thankful for his friend. He’d forgotten all about the supper. 

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Wakatoshi agreed, turning back to Amanai and Haiba. Amanai and Hitoka’s conversation had petered off after Satori’s declaration. “I’m sorry to cut the afternoon short, but I’m afraid we must take our leave.” Wakatoshi bowed his head with an apologetic expression on his face. Haiba arched an eyebrow, his spirits seemingly no less dimmed, but Amanai wore a delicate frown. 

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, Princess?” Amanai asked Hitoka, a hopeful sort of sparkle in her eyes. Hitoka blushed. 

“Yes, of course! We have to start our lessons soon,” She replied cheerfully, and Amanai’s frown softened until it was more of a graceful smile. Wakatoshi barely managed to hide his answering grin. Yes, he decided, it was a very good thing Hitoka had Amanai in her corner. 

“Well, don’t hesitate to visit me any time, Ushijima! I look forward to seeing you sometime, especially on the training grounds,” Haiba said easily, offering another wink, and Wakatoshi returned his smile with a slight one of his own. Clearly, Haiba was eager to learn, and that could only be a good thing in Wakatoshi’s eyes. He would gladly visit the training grounds again, particularly if Haiba was inclined to spar against him. Wakatoshi was always up for a little one-on-one, considering that he so rarely got to display his abilities. It was a wonder he’d learnt how to fight at all when the soldiers were afraid of incurring his father’s wrath by accidentally harming his heir. 

“Of course, Lev. I look forward to it as well,” Wakatoshi replied graciously, and Haiba’s green eyes widened in a minuscule way before a slow, assured smirk spread across his lips. He nodded, sparing a look at Satori before he turned and walked off, quickly striking up a conversation with another soldier.

“Ugh. I hate that guy,” Satori muttered, offering his arm absentmindedly. Wakatoshi almost reached forward to take it before Hitoka beat him to the punch, locking their arms together. Wakatoshi’s cheeks burned. Of course, Satori’s arm had been offered for Hitoka⎯ The Princess and lady of their situation. He wasn’t sure why his instincts had betrayed him, why he almost embraced Satori in the fashion courting lovers did. Wakatoshi felt like a fool. 

“I know what you mean, Tendou-san! But don’t worry, Lev is like that with everyone. You know, I thought he was interested in Nai-chan once, but she assured me this was not the case,” Hitoka replied cheerily, a bounce to her step, and Wakatoshi’s eyebrows furrowed. He’d seen nothing remiss in Haiba’s behaviour beyond confidence that was uncommon in recruits. Wakatoshi had no idea what could be the common thread between the conversation they just had with Haiba and his flirtations with Amanai. 

“If you say so, Hitoka-chan,” Satori agreed absentmindedly, glancing at Wakatoshi and quickly looking away before Wakatoshi could figure out what he wanted. That was odd. Normally, Satori and Wakatoshi could carry almost entire conversations through looks alone⎯ Satori wasn’t the type to close off communication like that. Wakatoshi frowned. Yes, something must’ve upset Satori. Perhaps, he really was getting sick, although Wakatoshi hadn’t entertained such a thought for very long earlier. 

After they dropped Hitoka off at her rooms in the palace (suitably far from Wakatoshi’s own, as was proper), Wakatoshi began the journey to his own. Satori fell in step beside him, more accustomed to being in Wakatoshi’s chambers than his own by now. He slept in Wakatoshi’s room most nights, anyways, but since it wouldn’t be proper for Wakatoshi to formally request Satori have rooms near his, sometimes he retired to his chambers in the servants' quarters. Wakatoshi did not particularly like that⎯ He could only rest easy when he knew Satori wasn’t in danger personally. However, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it while his father was emperor. Takashi may have allowed Satori protection, but anything further and Wakatoshi risked his neck.

⎯⎯⎯

“You look uncomfortable,” Hitoka remarked, wrinkling her nose, and Wakatoshi sighed. Hitoka had become, possibly, more brazen since their wedding. Now that she was his wife, she did not seem to care about standards of politeness⎯ Like the ones that could allow Wakatoshi to sulk in silence. “You don’t have to go to the ball if you don’t want to, Wakatoshi. It’s something silly, to relieve tensions after the negotiations with Seijoh.” Wakatoshi sighed. Of course , he had to be at the party. The kingdom needed to see their emperor in good health and spirits, but it was nice of Hitoka to tell him that he didn’t. Wakatoshi wasn’t looking forward to the ball regardless. 

Shiratorizawa was a kingdom that was very good at partying. The main ball was to be held in the palace’s large ballroom, but the gates to the castle would be open, allowing it to spill onto the streets of the surrounding city. The balls were never limited by political or economic standing, as anyone who wanted was allowed to slip inside the palace. Wakatoshi did not expect to be allowed to sleep tonight, considering that Shiratorizawa’s citizens adored fireworks and staying up until the sun rose. The palace itself closed at midnight, but the party would rage on outside for much longer. 

But this in and of itself was not the true cause of Wakatoshi’s discomfort. He’d been attending parties like these since he was a wee child, and although they’d never been his favourite, Wakatoshi had developed a kind of ambivalence towards them. So, the party was annoying, but it wasn’t what Wakatoshi was stressed about. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to Satori. 

And, yes, Wakatoshi knew it couldn’t be helped, he had a very busy schedule as an emperor, and so did Satori after making sous chef (to Washijo, who was set to be head chef until he died. Satori had said many times that he thought Washijo would never die just to spite him out of the spot.). Still, Wakatoshi had an inkling that this separation had started long before Satori’s promotion. Since the wedding, a good five years ago now, Satori had begun to branch off. He’d avoided Wakatoshi until their schedules took care of that themselves. To his horror, Wakatoshi thought that the last time he and Satori truly spoke was at Takashi’s funeral three months ago. 

And wasn’t that something? Wakatoshi had lost the most important person to him and his mean bastard of a father in one fell swoop. 

“Wakatoshi? I mean it. You look ill,” Hitoka said, looking concerned, as Wakatoshi brought himself back into the present. He did not often get lost in his thoughts like that. 

“You’re pale. Are you feeling alright? Perhaps we should get you down to the infirmary. I’m sure Tadashi would have you fixed up in a moment’s time,” Hitoka suggested, walking over to Wakatoshi and placing the back of her hand against his forehead. He knew he didn’t have a fever, but it was moderately nice to feel so taken care of. Wakatoshi also knew that Tadashi would have some sort of miraculous cure provided that they went down to the infirmary wing. Tadashi had completed the move to Shiratorizawa just before their wedding for Hitoka, and he’d gotten the infirmary under his thumb within a year. He was the best healer Wakatoshi knew of. 

This wasn’t a physical ailment, however, so Wakatoshi determined that they didn’t need to go to the infirmary just yet. 

“No. I am not sick, Hitoka,” Wakatoshi paused, his forehead creasing as Hitoka removed her hand. “When did you last see Kanoka?” It wasn’t like him to address many people informally, but people like Kanoka and Tadashi had become his family now that he was married to Hitoka. He wasn’t very close to either of them, but Wakatoshi liked to think that they were fond of each other. Hitoka gave him an odd look. 

“Yesterday afternoon. Oh, wait, well, I suppose I saw her this morning, but that was just a brief breakfast in the kitchens before I went to the council meeting,” She answered thoughtfully, and Wakatoshi frowned. It was as he’d thought⎯ Hitoka and Kanoka fit enough time into their schedules to see each other almost daily. It wasn’t any small feat that they managed, but that proved it could be done. Kanoka was the Captain of the Imperial Guild, nearly as busy as Hitoka herself. 

“Hitoka. When did you see Satori last?” Hitoka’s eyes widened marginally before a knowing look settled over his face. Her eyes gleamed, and Wakatoshi thought that she might know much more about this whole affair than he intended her to. Not that there was anything to know.

“Sunday, Wakatoshi,” Hitoka said gently, as if that could soften the blow. Wakatoshi blinked, feeling more hurt than he thought he would. Hitoka was the empress , and she had as much a hand in kingdom matters as Wakatoshi did, if not more. They were equally busy, and yet⎯ And yet. “We have tea together every Sunday. I thought he would’ve told you.” Something on Wakatoshi’s face must’ve given away that no , Satori very much had not told him anything, and Hitoka cut herself off. 

“He would love to see you, Wakatoshi. After the feast tonight, why don’t you pop down to the kitchens and find him?” Wakatoshi shook his head before Hitoka could even finish the thought. He didn’t want to corner his friend like that. Besides, Wakatoshi had tried . He’d sent letters since his father’s death, after it became clear that he and Satori’s schedules no longer matched up. Satori stopped answering eventually, and Wakatoshi had been so busy with Seijoh that he barely noticed. No, what Wakatoshi needed to do was attend the ball, eat at the feast, and then retire to his chambers. Preferably with Hitoka. He did not want her out on the streets too late at night, even if he was certain Kanoka would assign the best of the guild to guard her.

“How are you feeling?” Wakatoshi asked, glancing down at Hitoka’s stomach before he could help himself. He should’ve asked before, but he’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Satori that he’d forgotten to do so. Hitoka laughed, waving his concerns aside. “Did you have lunch? Perhaps we should visit the kitchens.” The empress rolled her eyes, glaring at Wakatoshi. 

“I’m four months pregnant, not an invalid! Yes, I had lunch, and I am feeling fine , Wakatoshi. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” The stern look on Hitoka’s face softened. “You do not have to see anyone you don’t want to, Wakatoshi. But may I suggest getting out there? I have Kanoka, as you know, but you haven’t got anyone. The masquerade is the perfect place⎯ We could get you an outfit that would disguise who you were and you could have a fling with someone who ultimately wouldn’t matter.” Wakatoshi knew that Hitoka was bright, but he had the fleeting thought that she might not know him at all. He didn’t want people in that way, and never had. Hitoka was pregnant because it was their duty to continue the Ushijima line, but Wakatoshi derived no real pleasure from matters of the flesh. The only one he’d briefly entertained thoughts about like that was the very same man that was avoiding him. 

“No, Hitoka. Thank you for the offer, but I do not like being deceitful,” Wakatoshi replied calmly. Hitoka sighed, but looked as though she had expected an answer along those lines. It made sense, considering she was the one at his side during the two-month-long negotiations with Seijoh. Wakatoshi did not lie, not even to his once-enemies. He was working to keep Shiratorizawa a prosperous, peaceful nation, and having bad blood between them and Seijoh had threatened that goal. Wakatoshi was only glad that the Grand King, Oikawa Tooru, had been made to see sense. (His consort, Iwaizumi Hajime, helped in that matter. He was much more reasonable than his other half.)

“Hm. Well, Kanoka and I are going. We’re going to be together all night, most likely. Don’t wait up, okay, Wakatoshi?” Hitoka said firmly, and Wakatoshi’s cheeks felt warm. He stayed up one night for Hitoka and she never let him forget it. “Tanaka-san will run the Guild for the night so that we can enjoy ourselves, and before you get all mother-hen, may I remind you that Kanoka is very skilled with a blade. And her hands. Really, she’d have any would-be assailant dead in seconds.” Hitoka smiled cheerfully, looking far too gleeful at the prospect of her lover killing someone.

“I will show up as well.” Wakatoshi nodded to himself. “I do not plan on wearing a mask, but don’t worry about matching with me. I’m sure the kingdom will not miss the empress for one night, especially if I tell them you’re resting in your chambers. Being pregnant allows you to get away with a lot, I have noticed,” He remarked thoughtfully, making Hitoka snort. She patted her slight bump with a smug smirk. 

“That’s right, me and Lil Songbird are in cahoots. They make a wonderful excuse,” Hitoka mumbled playfully, apparently talking more to the baby than to Wakatoshi. He shook his head with a fond smile. Little Songbird, as Hitoka had dubbed them, was already a great source of joy in his life, and they weren’t even born yet. Wakatoshi once more hardened his resolve to make Shiratorizawa the best place for them to be. 

“I’ll see you later tonight, okay, Wakatoshi? I think Kiyoko-san will have my head if I’m not in her fitting rooms soon. The sun is getting awfully low.” Hitoka stood on her tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to Wakatoshi’s cheek before turning and walking briskly out of the room. Wakatoshi smiled faintly, wondering distantly what he was to wear to the ball. 

It’d been a stroke of luck that Hitoka mentioned the ball was a masquerade⎯ The themes of Shiratorizawa’s parties were so often changed that he didn’t keep up. But, with it being a masquerade, that meant that everyone would be breaking out their finery instead of street clothes. Wakatoshi, perhaps oddly, preferred his formal wear to the more casual clothing people wore when they weren’t on duty (or…you know, royalty). He felt protected when he wore suits and even complicated traditional getups, as opposed to feeling vulnerable in informal things. Wakatoshi surveyed his closet with a serious look on his face. He had no desire to bother his tailor, Azumane Asahi, on such short notice. 

⎯⎯⎯

“Ah! Emperor Ushijima!” Lev Haiba waved eagerly, narrowly missing knocking off a fellow party-goer’s mask. Wakatoshi arched an eyebrow curiously and walked to the other man. Lev wore a black masquerade mask with narrow slits for his eyes and glittering emeralds embedded below them. The top of the mask was shaped like two cat ears, and Lev’s green eyes shone nearly as bright as the emeralds. His three-piece suit, predictably, was also in a deep shade of black with emerald-green detailing. Never let it be said that Lev didn’t have a theme.

“Did you need something, Lev?” Wakatoshi asked politely, wondering what on Earth Lev Haiba could have to discuss with him. They didn’t interact except for the rare occasions on which Wakatoshi felt like brushing up on his swordplay. Frankly, Wakatoshi found Lev just a little exhausting. He was so energetic and lively that Wakatoshi had a difficult time keeping up with him. Lev smirked. 

“Yeah! Yachi mentioned that you didn’t feel like dressing up, but she said to give this to you regardless,” He explained, handing Wakatoshi a finely crafted gold-and-cream masquerade mask. It was a work of art, Wakatoshi could at least admit that. Feathers were delicately carved into the porcelain, each one tipped with what was likely real gold. It went perfectly with Wakatoshi’s cream suit with gold trimmings. The feathers, too, represented birds of prey, which was Shiratorizawa’s national symbol. It covered the top half of Wakatoshi’s face⎯ Not enough to stop anyone from recognising him, but enough that everyone could pretend he was anonymous for the night. 

“Thank you for passing it along, Lev,” Wakatoshi said sincerely. He didn’t like to lie, no, but he had felt a bit out of place amongst the rest of Shiratorizawa’s citizens. Wearing a mask meant he would fit in. “How have you been?” Wakatoshi wasn’t sure why he asked. He did not truly care about the answer. Still, it gave them something to talk about while Wakatoshi laced the porcelain mask to his head with its silk ties.

“Good, good.” Lev smiled thinly. “Have you met the latest Section Captain? He’s certainly… something, ” He said, just lightly treading on the territory of complaint . Wakatoshi tried to recall who he was talking about, thinking about who had made Section Captain recently. Lev was his Section’s Captain, which made sense as to why he and the new one would’ve interacted a lot. Ah, Wakatoshi remembered now. It was Yaku Morisuke, Captain of two Defence Sections. He’d moved from the kingdom that bordered Shiratorizawa on the East, Nekoma, and was a formidable ally to have. Wakatoshi remembered how sullen the Nekoma ruler, Kozume Kenma, had been to lose him.

“Morisuke seemed to be an adequate man and an even better soldier when I met him,” Wakatoshi replied to Lev curiously, wondering what could’ve sparked such dislike. It wouldn’t do for his Section Leaders to be arguing and causing mayhem, especially when their opinions affected entire groups of good warriors. Wakatoshi did not need infighting. Lev shrugged. 

“You’ve never run drills with him, though. He’s absolutely unreasonable.” Lev frowned, although to be honest, it came off as a pout more than anything. Wakatoshi blinked. As much as he wanted to hear more about the issues that Morisuke was causing, a voice suspiciously like Hitoka’s murmured in his head about how this was an outright party and Wakatoshi still managed to find a way to make it about work. Wakatoshi chose to ignore that voice, tuning back into the finishing dredges of Lev’s rant. “I mean, seriously, how many times can a guy really lose a chestplate before it becomes non-accidental!? I’m telling you, Ushijima-san, Morisuke is a real piece of work,” Lev grumbled, shaking his head. 

“Talking about me, are we, Haiba?” A slow drawl with the easily-recognised Nekoma accent interrupted. Wakatoshi and Lev turned around to be met with the sight of Yaku, who certainly understood the theme of the ball. His masquerade mask was held on a pole, the detailings incredible. It depicted a panther’s maw, inlaid with sparkling silver⎯ Nekoma’s finest export, Wakatoshi noted internally. Karasuno supplied gems and expensive metals, but not silver. The silver mines laid beneath the territory in between the two empires, sufficiently won by Nekoma after a bloody war that lasted over two decades. 

“Good evening, Ushijima-san. I do hope that Haiba hasn’t spoiled your impression of me too badly,” Yaku greeted, slyness glittering in his dark brown eyes. Wakatoshi pursed his lips. Lev had a tendency to over-exaggerate, and he did not want to risk offending Yaku to the point where the Captain chose to leave Shiratorizawa for another foreign empire, or worse, his homeland. It would be a disgraceful blight to the Ushijima name.

“Not too badly,” Wakatoshi agreed carefully. “Perhaps the two of you could resolve your issues on your own time, so that I do not have to interfere.” The wording phrased it like a question, but Wakatoshi’s tone broke no argument. Lev’s mouth fell into a displeased line, but he nodded stiffly. Yaku smirked self-assuredly, his nod much more confident than his fellow Captain’s. 

“Of course, Your Majesty. It’s only proper that these silly skirmishes be kept within the Guild, hm?” Yaku asked smoothly, shooting a deathly angry look at Lev, which Wakatoshi chose to ignore. He believed that Lev could handle himself, were the two Captains to come to blows. “We’ll see to it that our issues are dealt with. Have a nice night, Your Majesty,” Yaku said, offering a sweeping bow before grabbing Lev’s arm and yanking him through the throngs of people. Wakatoshi sighed, alone once more. 

The citizens of Shiratorizawa paid him no attention as they milled about the edges of the palace’s ballroom, his masquerade mask offering him a little privacy. If someone took longer than a few seconds to look at him, they’d know Wakatoshi’s identity easily, but as it was, no one cared. It was comforting, somehow. Wakatoshi had been in the spotlight his entire life, but he was simply another face in the background at the moment. Wakatoshi’s shoulders dropped, relaxing as he walked with purposeful steps towards the open bar. 

It was only once he had reached the counter that Wakatoshi realised he didn’t know what he liked to drink. Wakatoshi avoided alcohol out of distaste for the memories of his father, drunk out of his mind. The only times Wakatoshi really drank were times when he had to, lest he offend another kingdom. Seijoh’s wine had been strong, oddly bitter, but Wakatoshi doubted they would have some stored regardless, even if he had enjoyed it. It was the last kind of alcohol Wakatoshi could remember drinking, and the only one he could remember the name of, likely because it had been so bad he’d wanted to make sure he could avoid it. 

“Sir? A cacti juice from the patron over there,” A barkeep with long, silver hair wound into a complex braided crown interrupted Wakatoshi’s musings, sliding a ceramic mug filled to the brim with something vaguely green towards him as they pointed at a masked individual on the far side of the bar. The stranger wore a jester-themed mask in alternating shades of red and black, floppy red hair arranged artfully so that it fell over the curled ends of the mask. They smirked, lifting their gloved hand in a small wave. Wakatoshi blinked, glancing back down at the drink. 

“It’s not poisoned, Sire. No one would be so foolish as to attack the emperor in the middle of the palace, even if it is open to the public,” The barkeep assured, offering a wink. “And don’t worry. I’ll pretend like I never saw you.” Wakatoshi’s face felt warm as he grasped what they were implying. He wasn’t interested in the stranger who’d bought him a drink⎯ Wakatoshi had meant it when he declined Hitoka’s offer⎯ but he couldn’t deny that he still didn’t know what to drink. So, figuring that there was very little to lose, Wakatoshi took a sip of the ‘cacti juice’, as it was dubbed. It burned, enough that Wakatoshi coughed a little, surprised. 

Perhaps, with a name like cacti juice , he shouldn’t have been. There was sweetness simmering under the fire, though, which was a pleasant surprise. Not Wakatoshi’s favourite, however, but that was to be expected. Maybe it was one of those drinks that took a little getting used to before anyone enjoyed it. 

“Not a fan, I take it? Sorry about that, y’know, I’m not exactly a master of guessing people’s drinks.” Familiar, Wakatoshi thought before anything else. He turned slightly, finding the jester from earlier standing near him. They wore a lazy smirk, the jester mask cutting off just after their nose. Their voice had been vaguely familiar, a bit too gravelly and deep, but familiar nonetheless. “I don’t blame you, though. It’s a lot of spice for anyone, let alone a newbie drinker,” The jester teased, making Wakatoshi snort lightly in amusement.

“I do not particularly enjoy it,” Wakatoshi admitted truthfully, making the jester’s smirk curve into something more real. “Thank you, however. I appreciate the sentiment. I can return the favour, if you’d tell me your favourite drink, Mr…?” Wakatoshi trailed off, waiting for an answer. The other man’s smile tugged at the corners, fading slightly before returning in full force.

“You can call me Jester, yeah? What should I call you, hm? Emperor…or would you prefer something more intimate ?” Jester leered, making heat lick up Wakatoshi’s neck. “And I don’t need a drink. The offer is nice, but if you really want to ‘return the favour’, I have something different in mind.” Jester wasn’t subtle, but Wakatoshi half-suspected that was the point, from the way the other man’s eyes lingered on him. 

“You may call me Wakatoshi for the night if you’d like, Jester,” Wakatoshi replied matter-of-factly, being sure to add the for-the-night stipulation. Once tomorrow came, this would be washed away, and Wakatoshi would once again become the Emperor. But for now, the man in front of him could be Jester, and he could simply be Wakatoshi. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind?” So perhaps, Wakatoshi was a little too curious for his own good. Gods knew Hitoka had told him it’d cost him his head one day enough times. 

“A dance. Care to join me, Wakatoshi-kun?” Jester bowed, offering his hand, a glint in the bloodred eyes behind the mask. Wakatoshi reached for his hand without thinking about it, accepting the offer. He was not very graceful on the dance floor, but Wakatoshi could manage Shiratorizawa’s fast-paced waltzes, at least. Jester wasted no time before leading Wakatoshi onto the floor, securing his other hand on Wakatoshi’s waist. 

The man’s smirk was a slash of pearly white, standing out against the dark crimson of his outfit. Jester’s pants billowed out before cinching tightly at his ankle, made up of diamond patterns that alternated between checkered and striped black and red. His vest was black with flowers coated in dripping crimson (like blood, Wakatoshi thought) and the suit jacket over it was made of more checkered fabric. He was certainly striking, the ensemble made complete by long black (leather?) gloves. They were a pair of opposites, drawing a few eyes, but not many. Shiratorizawa loved to go all out, after all, and one jester and maybe-emperor were nothing to bat an eye at.

“I must admit, I was expecting…something different,” Wakatoshi said, keeping his gaze on Jester’s brilliantly red eyes. Jester laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his pale neck. 

“Ah, were you expecting me to take advantage of you, eh, Wakatoshi? Looking forward to it, even…?” Jester wondered, leaning in close. Wakatoshi’s mouth felt dry and he swallowed, shaking his head. 

“Of course not.” Well, Wakatoshi had expected a very different request, but that didn’t mean he had to let Jester know that. The lie tasted wrong in Wakatoshi’s mouth, and he had the thought that it probably wasn’t very believable. Jester snickered, resuming his position suitably far enough from Wakatoshi’s face. (Albeit still not that far, they were dancing, after all.)

“No, no, I suppose that would be unbecoming of a man such as yourself.” There was something hard to the edge of Jester’s tone, and Wakatoshi knew that there was some measure of truth to the statement, no matter how teasing. “Are you hungry, Wakatoshi-kun? I could go for a snack!” Jester said cheerfully, changing the subject, and Wakatoshi blinked. He knew it was an evasion, but he wasn’t about to pry into what Jester had said. He didn’t think that would end well. 

“Sure. We have, ahem, wonderful chefs here at the palace.” Mentioning Satori, even indirectly, felt sacrilegious somehow. Like Wakatoshi was uttering a god’s name in a shrine not built for them. Jester led them gracefully off of the dance floor and into the crowds that collected around the edges. He moved between people with ease like a shadow, despite the fact that he was taller than most of the ones they passed. Wakatoshi felt clumsy in comparison, trailing behind like an ox. 

They arrived at the long tables set along the walls, positively crowded with foods of all types. Jester plucked a plate from a stack, placing it in Wakatoshi’s hand. He picked out different foods from the tables, having more of an eye for it than Wakatoshi, who simply followed along. Once they’d reached the end of one table, Jester turned around, a familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Well? Try some, Wakatoshi-kun! Ooh, here, a lotus-seed bun first, yeah? You’ll like it, I promise,” Jester took a sticky-looking bun from the pile of food, holding it to Wakatoshi’s lips with an eager smile. Wakatoshi obliged him by taking a bite, surprised by the amount of sweet flavour that burst into his mouth. The bread tasted light, fluffy in a way he hadn’t expected from the syrup coating it. It almost tasted how the rose oil Hitoka was so fond of smelled, although in a good way. The lotus flavour wasn’t overpoweringly sweet, just enough that Wakatoshi felt satisfied.

“It’s good. I do like it, Satori,” Wakatoshi agreed with a nod. He watched as Jester’s eyes went wide behind the mask, his smile falling away to be replaced by an expression of horror. Wakatoshi’s eyebrows drew together in confusion before he realised⎯ He’d slipped up. 

“Wait, no, Satori, calm down, it’s okay,” Wakatoshi said, trying to diffuse the situation, but Satori didn’t quite appear to be listening. He shook his head, nearly tripping over another partygoer as he backed away. He turned around, rushing through the throngs of people. Wakatoshi set down their plate filled with goodies, not wasting a second before he started off after his friend.

It didn’t take long to find Satori. He was mildly predictable, if only to Wakatoshi, who had known him for years stacked upon years. Satori waited on an empty balcony, stars glittering in the night sky as the crowds bustled out of the palace and onto the streets below. Wakatoshi approached quietly, but Satori didn’t seem startled as he came to stand beside the other man, a shoulder’s-width apart. Satori’s jester mask dangled from his hand as he looked up at the sky, resolutely ignoring Wakatoshi. 

“Are you alright?” Wakatoshi asked softly, reaching behind his head and untying his own mask. He set it on the thick balcony railing, still looking at Satori. The other man shook his head with a faint, hollow laugh. 

“You’re something, you know that, Wakatoshi? Here I am, just having tried to fool you for most of the night and run away from you, and you’re asking me if I’m alright.” Satori shook his head again, a disbelieving set to his lips. Wakatoshi did not understand the point his friend was trying to make⎯ Yes, Satori had done that, but what did that have to do with Wakatoshi’s concern?

“You didn’t answer the question,” Wakatoshi pointed out in reply. “I am not upset with you, if you’re worried, Satori. I don’t understand why you think I would be. I have missed you,” He admitted honestly, willing his friend to look at him. It was all Wakatoshi wanted, at that moment. For Satori to look at him and truly see him , without the mask and the embellishments. He’d been able to do it since they were children, and Wakatoshi knew he still could, if only Satori would look at him.

“You⎯ Gods, Wakatoshi, you make this so hard,” Satori breathed, and Wakatoshi’s forehead creased in confusion. “I was trying to give you space. I mean, gods, everyone knows I’ve missed you. But you were so busy after the coronation and then Takashi died and then⎯ Well. It doesn’t matter. It’s better this way, no? I’m not taking up your time anymore.” Satori did turn to Wakatoshi then, but the smile he wore felt so horribly false and wrong. Wakatoshi shook his head, resisting the urge to physically recoil from the thought of continuing to not have Satori in his life. 

“I want you to take up my time. Satori, you are my best friend. I am not happy to be without you.” Wakatoshi felt frustrated. “I don’t understand why you’re avoiding me if you miss me, too. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing is better this way. Hitoka even suggested I get out tonight because she knows how much I’ve missed you.” Whatever progress Wakatoshi had made with Satori disappeared when he mentioned Hitoka, a curtain of cold indifference drawing over his face. 

“Why would she suggest that? She’s your wife , and you’ve got a bouncing baby on the way, don’t you?” Satori asked with a sneer, leaving Wakatoshi bewildered. Satori had never shown such animosity towards Hitoka before.

“Is that what is wrong, Satori?” Wakatoshi asked desperately. “Hitoka isn’t you. She could never hope to be. She is a friend , someone who is a lovely confidant and who I know will be a good mother. But she isn’t you.” It felt like a promise, and in many ways, it was. Satori’s cold mask of indifference cracked and he frowned, eyes glassy as they reflected constellations. 

“Don’t you love her? She’s perfect, y’know. Pretty with perfectly delicate features and royalty and a woman. ” Tears fell from Satori’s eyes as he blinked and Wakatoshi reached between them, brushing them away with careful fingers. He shook his head slightly. 

“I love her, yes. Of course, I do. But, Satori,” Wakatoshi sighed, cradling Satori’s face. “I have only ever been in love with you. You matter to me more than anything.” Shiratorizawa could burn and Wakatoshi would accept it as long as Satori was with him. His empire could crumble into pieces and it wouldn’t matter as long as Wakatoshi had his family. Satori was an irrevocable part of that. Satori sobbed, covering Wakatoshi’s hands with his own, his jester mask fallen to the balcony floor. 

“Wakatoshi,” Satori said, and it was enough. Wakatoshi leaned in, pressing their lips together softly. It was messy and wet from Satori’s tears, but Wakatoshi didn’t care. Couldn’t find it in himself to care because oh, this was what had been missing from him. This was a piece slotting into place, a missing colour to Wakatoshi’s rainbow. 

“Satori.” Wakatoshi echoed and then they were kissing, kissing again, entangled on a balcony where no one could see them. Fireworks boomed in the sky, but neither man paid attention to it, too wrapped up in each other. 

And somewhere in the distance, a pregnant Empress and a Guild Captain interlocked hands, smiling at each other like there had never been anyone else (and there hadn’t.)

⎯end.