Chapter Text
Let it be known that the Ukais are not impoverished. They have a house, sure a few stories lacking that provincial regal flair, and it stands out from a lot of wild bushes and untrimmed grasses. But it must be known those are the choices implicitly decided by the Mother. A rebellious decorative of sorts. And the windows, though not entirely as square, are rounded smoothly for the main purpose of trailing vines that are undeserving of snips and plucks. Again, by choice of the Mother – who, while a renowned educator, prides himself of inherent virtue, understanding of trends, and unparalleled generosity no wealth shall dare question.
But it seems that while the Ukais are well-mannered, respected, and independent, they are never bereft of curious investors eager to offer services of certain repairs. This, as ordained by the Old and Catankerous Ukai, is the household’s most unremitting plight. And so mortified are the children for such repute over their family that they care less about being diplomatic to those who criticize their home – and by extension, their upbringing. Which is, to the Father’s opposition, questionable at best and unhinged at worst.
“Oh please, darling, to deem it as such only reflects poorly on you.” Ittetsu would soon tut and defend. He is favorably dressed for the occasion that is the morning peace of children-less breakfast. With his cup of rose tea and neatly opened pieces of literature.
Ukai Keishin, the Father and certainly the authority of the household, is but mum and sullen. “And it does not on the Mother who so clearly spoils his children?”
“I do not!” Ittetsu feigns a gasp. Ever the dramatic of such fine, balmy resting. “If anything, I raise our children far more eloquently than any of the mothers here. Goodness, darling, if you just hear the bruits that they conjure up in their free hours instead of educating themselves on delicacy.”
“Delicacy?” Keishin raises a brow. “This household? Really?”
“Honestly, darling, you must be a spy for those mothers.” Ittetsu shakes his head. “If I must tell you – and tiredly so for how many times you’ve brought up this discussion, our children are anything but indelicate. In fact, they are –”
A clang. From above them. And the onslaught of shrieking curses by none other than their secondborn.
Keishin dreads the seconds of silence before he hears the most spoken name within their field.
“Shouyou, you asinine dimwit!”
“I did not take it, I swear!”
“You took it! Tobio promised he saw you last evening stealing it from my compartment!”
Another shriek, much betrayed. “Tobio, you swore on our grandmother’s grave!”
A voice less timid than the breeze erupts. “Not after you made a mess out of the stables! My horses could not sleep for days!”
“Oh sure, Tobio, only the horses were sleeping in that awful stable.”
“Like you’re one to talk with your piles of trash, Kei!”
“Books are not trash, you’re simply feeble-minded to understand their value! Honest to gods, Tadashi is the only sane sibling allowed in my room anymore!”
"Too bad we share one room!"
Then another clatter. Now by the kitchen where miasma is beginning to seep out of the tightly-shut windows. Tadashi, the firstborn, can be heard fretting over a burnt bread he definitely must have left unattended.
Keishin sighs with the fervor of a roaring dragon. “Your children,” He pauses at another screeching, “are anything but subtle.”
Ittetsu calmly lays a palm on his fist. “Patience, darling. They are at an age most parents would be grateful for.”
Keishin nearly cackles at the word. “Grateful, he says! To have four, graceless omegas who do nothing but flounder and make a mess out of every treasured novelties in this house – dear Mother, the only thing I will be grateful for is if they manage to dress themselves right and tend to their schooling on time.”
“Friday mornings are a time of leisure and not academic pressures,” Ittetsu argues. He raises his cup but stops at another thought. “Also, what you should be grateful for is that they are not yet at an age where they will ever consider marriage.”
“Ha! As if they are the primest example of dutiful wives to be courted by good men.”
“Don’t pretend now. I saw you burning those letters the Takashis have sent us seasons ago.”
Keishin chokes on a leaf, spitting the burn of his tea. “They were not yet at an appropriate age to be receiving those. Of course, I had it in my best interest to shred them to bits.” And buried along with the Takashis’s audacity.
Ittetsu hums, simply knowing. He places his cup atop the unwrinkled tablecloth. In elegance, he breathes in the hush and its disturbance.
He begins, “Speaking of courting, I should prepare you for Grandfather’s demands that the children be soon propositioned to.”
“That old witch has no right to meddle in our affairs.” Keishin dismisses. “The children are far more prepared to incite a rebellion than to serve a proper dinner.”
“You say that as though you agree your children are destined for mundane motherhood.”
“Oh not that word, please.” Keishin shudders. “They are children, dear husband.”
“Dear husband, they will not always be.” Ittetsu refutes. “I for one think it is high time they have prospects. And Grandfather has sent letters of these prospects. They are very good actually – well-adjusted individuals from affluent homes, educated beyond provincial ideologies and forces to be reckoned with. I dare say they may be the kind of influences you wish our children would have in their lives.”
“Good influences, you claim?” Keishin reclines on his chair, counting with his fingers, “Let’s review, shall we? Tadashi is too feeble for any interactions to last a minute for stutter-less conversations. Kei, dear god, where do I even wish to begin – detests the patriarchy so feverishly he sooner would decimate the system than not let his Father do the dishes for him. Tobio is tethered to his stables venturing who knows where until eveningtide. And Shouyou prefers his Alphas to be strong, formidable, and out of the pages of his fairytale drawings.”
“Minor oddities we can work with.” Ittetsu shrugs. “I’d say those are their greatest points. Peculiarities only high-quality men would appreciate.”
“Or disdain,” Keishin grumbles. “I am telling you, I will not allow those. For the sake of mankind.”
“For the sake of mankind, hm, sure.” Ittetsu flicks a page. Not once faltering at a paragraph he speaks, “It is advisable, that a family blessed with oddities must be in need of oddities at a level of their own. Thrilling, you must admit, to have your breakfast be fully short of the noise you so clearly adore.”
“I do not.” Keishin huffs.
“Then to prove your point, I have the letters by the bedside table.” Ittetsu begins to stand, stretching. “And you will read them.”
Keishin, the obvious authority of the household, pinches the wrinkles on his temple and concedes, “After dinner, darling.”
Ittetsu smiles, victorious. “Good. Now witness the dexterity of a mother of four omegas.”
Briskly, as one would with an army of divinities, Ittetsu gets to shushing the children. One by one, collecting them into a corner and commanding them out of their assumed atrocious states.
Eventually, the children exit the doors with their bags in tow and the carriage neighing afar.
Keishin wipes a stain on the brim of his cup, breathing in relief. The silence transcends. And the lonesome pavilion tolerates no other company but his alone.
“Courting.” He scoffs to himself. “As if.”
Let it be known that the Ukais are not impoverished. They are moneyed and educated and only discern the kindest of companies to invite to dinner. And so it must be known that the Ukais do not concern themselves with uninvited guests because they surely are filtered by the Mother.
“No wonder I’ve had a hard time coming here.” Irihata Nobuteru has become an exception, it seems.
“It isn’t because of the long ride now, is it?” Keishin sneers not so subtly.
Irihata picks on the tender meat of his chicken, chuckling. “They truly do not lie about your elusive nature, commander Keishin.”
“Please do not mind my husband’s attitude. He likes no one at first impression.” Ittetsu comes with a silver platter of treats. His skirt bumps harshly against Keishin’s cheek, admonishing him even as he sits in a graceful manner felines would envy.
“Blueberries?” Irihata munches delightfully. “Your cooking maddens the palace maidens!”
Ittetsu laughs coquettishly. “Please, I hide no shame in being excellent at it. However, the credit is not mine tonight. Those treats were baked by my charming Tadashi.”
Irihata glances to his front, smiling widely. “Ah, your firstborn. Quite the talent in you, dear.”
Tadashi, who had taken to sitting quietly by his Father’s side, colors a bashful shade. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“Nothing to thank for a gendered praise.” Kei, who had taken to sitting huffishly by his Father’s left, interrupts. And much too often does Keishin reprimand him. But not this time.
It is Ittetsu’s role now, however. “Excuse him, Mr. Irihata, he’d recently read Devante’s teachings and consumed too much of their literal spite.”
“Nothing to correct there at all, Ma’am.” Irihata nods approvingly. “I too am a fan of Madame Devante’s literature. In fact, we study them religiously in our Royal Academy.”
Kei perks up. “Royal Academy you say? The very academy who refused to enroll omegas of poorer standing and enslave destitute betas to their royal ranks?”
Irihata’s smile wanes. He clears his throat. “The Royalty has its fair share of backward innovations but I do swear we are working to correct them.”
“And with haste, I hear.” Ittetsu placates. “Although, we are not here for the discussion of political resolutions, are we?”
“Well yes, ma’am. I am here to offer a proposition.” Irihata lays down an envelope. “It has come to our attention that your children – no longer children, I observe, are developing bright creativities fit for our Academy. And if the King is unwise, he would not send me here personally to extend our invitation to them.”
“If the King were any more wiser, he would have come here himself.” Keishin comments. “What sense would it be to take away my children and have them enrolled in your institution – considering their, as you would call them, backward innovations.”
“Absolutely right, father.” Kei snickers. Tadashi pulls on his sleeve, wordlessly disapproving.
“The King would have paid his visits if not for, how should I put this, your obstinacy to refuse visitors from their household.”
“Keishin does not take too kindly to long pleasantries,” Ittetsu explains. “He finds the whole thing rigorous.”
“Do understand, ma’am.” Irihata chuckles nervously. “The King wishes only the best for your family knowing the esteemed contributions Commander Keishin has provided for this country. This is a morsel of the promises the King wishes to give you.”
“And what do those promises entail, kind sir?” Tadashi inquires. “We cannot make decisions based on only gratitude. After all, my siblings and I are particular about where our parents wish to send us.”
“In terms of academics?” Irihata asks.
“In terms of everything.” Tadashi corrects humbly. “And with two of my siblings absent, it would require us more time to deliberate on your offer.”
“Speaking of, where are your siblings?” Ittetsu glimpses at the clock. Past six, it dictates.
“Tobio’s in his one of his made-up expeditions again, Mother.” Kei answers. “And Shouyou’s a child with no awareness of time, sleeping on garden soil full of bugs.”
“Oh, dear heavens!” Ittetsu groans in exasperation. “Kei, Tadashi – would you please fetch them for me?”
“And leave you adults to talk about our inevitable designation to that academy?”
“Yes, Kei. Very accurately worded.” Ittetsu says in warning. “Tadashi, you are permitted to drag your sibling away from this table.”
Tadashi stands, bowing sheepishly.
“What – no! Mother, this is – Tadashi, stop it!”
The door to the garden shuts close but not without an inhuman yelling to follow suit.
“Now,” Ittetsu fixes his posture. “Where shall we sign?”
“Hang on, dear, I haven’t agreed to this arrangement yet –” Keishin, in the middle of protest, muffles a pained groan.
“Again,” Ittetsu says, extending an arm to receive the letters. “Where shall we sign?”
“Why you choose to agree is beyond me.” Keishin removes his vest, then his collar, and sits rudely on the edge of the bed.
Ittetsu concentrates on combing Shouyou’s tangled hair, humming. “It will do our children good to act like their status.”
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with a bit of dilly-dallying in the fields.” Shouyou pouts.
“There is when you have a leaf stuck to your hair.”
“Mother, you cannot be serious about sending us there.” Kei whines. “That place stinks of stubborn Alphas who do nothing but salivate over wrestling, power play, and degradation. Mind you, they are not the brightest flock either. Just a bunch of sheep binging on wine and bragging.”
“Or, the kind sir may have a point to bring us there,” Tadashi adds. He sits by the fireplace braiding Tobio’s tresses.
“As long as I can bring my horse, I’ll have no problem.” Tobio includes. “Did you know they have a meadow solely meant for horseriding? I’d loathe not to be a part of whatever club they’ve set up for it.”
“Oh, you and your horses!” Kei paces in frustration. “Father, you clearly have authority here. Why be a slave now to Mother’s whims?”
“You think I didn’t try?” Father grumbles. He catches a book Kei throws at him, opening to the sixth page where Devante retells her illicit affair on her travel to France. “And must you be reading this at night?”
“Be glad you have a son who actually prefers to learn.” Kei harrumphs.
“We’d be more glad if we actually have sons who can be perfect royalties.” Ittetsu retrieves a twig glued to Shouyou’s scalp.
“So that is your plan all along? To have us married off to princes and be cursed as their babymakers.” Kei folds his arms. He plops down on the carpeted floor by Father’s leg, angrily pulling on each lace of Father’s boots.
“Oddities.” Keishin remarks from the background.
“I don’t quite mind that.” Shouyou happily sings. He fiddles with the hairbrush that had just given up on his tangles. “Some say princes are the epitome of fairytale endings. Is it so bad to have a romance with them?”
“Or the epitome of tomfoolery.” Kei debates. “And don’t forget the patriarchy we must be dismantling.”
“All your talk of patriarchy.” Tobio sneers. “Let’s see when you fall in love with a prince first.”
“Love? Kei?” Even Tadashi is surprised. “What a lovely irony would that be!"
“A mess, even.” Shouyou giggles. "If he ends up the picture-perfect wife of a crass Alpha."
“As if!” Kei sardonically laughs. “Don’t taunt me now when you’ve done nothing your entire life but play chase and fetch with the prince, Tobio.”
Tobio sputters, flabbergasted. “I do not do that!”
“Prince Tooru?” Ittetsu pauses. “I thought you disliked him?”
“He dislikes me and I've no care for it.” Tobio brings his knees to his chest. It has added more labor to Tadashi’s part.
“Tell me again why you hate him?” Keishin asks. He hasn’t been away long but he somehow misses most of his children’s gossip.
“Tobio bested him at horseracing so the royal brat made it his prime mission to torment Tobio,” Tadashi explains.
“I’d say it’s less torment and more of pulling pigtails.” Shouyou quips. “And Tobio seems to like it.”
“Again,” Tobio groans. “I do not like him or his stupid face.”
“Well let’s hope you won’t see him when we’re unavoidably imprisoned in their penitentiary.” Kei solemnly grumbles.
“Please, you act like we are committing abuse against you.” Ittetsu sighs. He finishes the last of his tasks and turns to all of them. “Now, what your father and I decided –”
“Forced to.” Keishin feigns a cough. He straightens immediately under Ittetsu’s glare.
“– is for your best.” Ittetsu continues. “The royal academy has a lot of resources to tickle your intrigue. You’re to attend next month and create fond memories with new friends. Because honest to god, you are in dire need of new perspectives in your lives that no longer constitute only of horses, baking, imagined amours, and fighting a corrupt system.”
“Not that I disapprove of those.” Keishin raises a finger.
“You did hours ago.” Ittetsu points out. “And don’t think I forgot you haven’t read the letters.”
“What letters?” Tadashi looks between the two of them.
Keishin sags, frowning. “Your courtship letters.”
And with that revelation, havoc is ignited. With Shouyou’s joyous pleas of reading the letters and Kei’s squawking demands to stomp on them.
“Oddities,” Keishin remarks regretfully. Blessed are the potential partners of these heathens.
Let it be known that the children of the Ukai household are put-together, have good intentions, and amidst the travesties of their peculiarities – are angels who do good things. That is to say, the first sentence is a complete and utter lie and must be subjected to extensive vetting.
Because their first week of schooling is enough of an impression to make to their deemed prospects and because destroying a metal gate with a galloping horse, burning down a golden stove by inattention, causing a black-out through good-old fencing practice, and making ten esteemed teachers resign – are enough basis for expulsion and not a fake slap to the wrist.
But Ittetsu is a devious force that knows how to scheme. Half thanks to the power Ukai’s name bears.
“Regretful, yet?”
Ittetsu is merely enthused. “No dear. Quite the opposite. This filters out the attention deserving of my sweet angels.”
“Had I known this was just a plot to check on the backgrounds of the courters, I would have agreed sooner,” Keishin says. “But I would have planned a more civil approach, honestly.”
“And you would have failed spectacularly.” Ittetsu shakes his head. “Leave it to the real authority of the household to know what ought to be done.”
Keishin shrugs, less energetic. “Well, if your plan works. I’ll expect an excellent baker, a less naive romantic, a less abrasive horse-fanatic, and an author who will not be the next Devante.”
Ittetsu does his flirtatious shoulder-wiggle, smirking. “Kei will be better than Devante.”
“I’ll pray they’re all better than before they came here.”
They step out of the Academy’s premises, minds having their most hopeful imaginings for the future.
“Surely, they will have nothing but the best of oddities.”