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There, in the noble country of Musubi, lived an affable, jaunty knight by the name of Miya Atsumu. From a young age, Atsumu understood the stark difference between right and wrong, good and evil, courage and cowardice, and decided to leave his house at seven years of age to pursue his dream of working in a lance for the royal family.
The King of Musubi was a strong and powerful leader known across the vast land for his authoritative command. He and the queen had gotten hitched at only sixteen, a reasonable age to settle down after having fought in the Schweiden War of 1607. Together, they made way for the only heir to the throne.
His son, who was about the same age as Atsumu, was a smart and beautiful man. The Prince never laughed at Atsumu’s jokes, nor did he humour his good-hearted folly, which only seemed to entice him more.
Atsumu’s brother, a much-less attractive version of him, in only the way an identical twin could be, berated him for such foolishness, for an aristocrat of his stature would never acknowledge someone as ungentlemanly as he.
Atsumu, aware of his royal duties, reminded Osamu that his sole responsibility as a knight was to ensure the Prince’s utmost wellbeing - and that he would be forced to acknowledge his presence when Atsumu refused to protect him in the events of another war breaking out.
“Let us see his triumphant countenance once a fully-armed battalion charges at him!” Atsumu threatened, shaking his fist at the sky. “Or if he falls violently ill to syphilis! See if I care!”
If only Atsumu had known that by uttering those words, he would have inadvertently caused a chain reaction, as three weeks later, rumours spread across the palace grounds that the Prince had been cursed by a witch.
i.
It was a dark and cloudy day, the day his closest servant announced that the Prince’s health had suddenly declined.
Atsumu walked down the halls to the Prince’s quarters with a newly-acquired sense of trepidation. He marched past several servants exchanging horrified looks, rounding the sharp corner and up the crooked stairs, where he was met with a boy with hair the colour of the setting sun.
“Atsumu-san!” cried the squire, latching onto his arm. “It is Prince Kiyoomi, a malediction had been set upon him!”
“Don’t be so puerile, Shouyou-kun,” said Atsumu. Twenty-one years he had walked this land and never had he seen a curse in person. “What’s the matter?”
“The devil had gotten his tongue!” replied the squire. “Our dear Prince cannot speak, cannot let out a single noise apart from “alas!” He had been bemoaning that wretched word since cockrow.”
As quiet but as quick as a mouse, the squire had creaked the door to the Prince’s chambers open. When Atsumu peeked his head in, all he saw was a large heap of sewn quilts and fluffed-up pillows.
“Where is the Prince?” Atsumu asked after a moment of silence.
The squire beckoned him forward. “Why, His Royal Highness has been resting in bed, insistent that every inch of the counterpane be covered in blankets.”
True to his word, the closer the two approached the mound of quilts, the sooner he noticed the body of the heir to the throne looking quite miserable, bundled up in wool and linen.
“But Shouyou-kun,” said Atsumu, picking apart the barricade with both hands. “Where on Earth had they been able to find so many blankets in Musubi?”
“The servants had to start borrowing elsewhere to fulfill the Prince’s requests. One managed to thieve four of the King’s duvets before he had been caught and sentenced to public hanging.”
“Alas!” cried the Prince from under the blankets.
The squire was quite right - the Prince looked extraordinarily pale, sweaty, with his face lacking its usual robustness. Atsumu pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, wincing at its warmth.
“Are ya quite alright, Yer Highness?” Atsumu asked, leaning down to examine the details of his blanched complexion. “Are ya hurt?”
The Prince squirmed under his gaze. “Alas,” he coughed up, fainter this time. The squire’s face grew grave.
“What do you think we should do, Atsumu-san?” asked he. “Curses, there are many, but I have never seen one so treacherous!”
But unbeknownst to the squire’s alarm, Atsumu recognised the familiar burn of the skin and thick, phlegmy cough - for this was no curse, but merely an ordinary indisposition.
“I have heard of tales old and new, Atsumu-san, about the severity of such hexes,” the squire continued, beginning to count on his fingers. “Finding the witch and apologising, sacrificing an artefact closest to you, a true love’s kiss…”
Snapping his fingers together as if he had just been graced by the Goddess of wisdom, the squire turned to the Prince. “Your Royal Highness, have you got a fair lady that loves you so?”
“I will need clovers,” said Atsumu, interrupting his growing spiel. “Instruct one of the cooks to start boilin’ water.”
“So, not a love curse, then,” said the squire, but he did as he was told. Minutes later, he arrived yet again with a mortar filled with boiling water and freshly cut clovers.
Atsumu got to work almost instantly, crushing the herbs with the pestle and decocting them in the scalding water. As the squire supported the Prince’s head, Atsumu poured the warm concoction down his throat.
“Feed him this brew fer the next twenty-four hours and he shall feel better,” said Atsumu, pressing a hand to the Prince’s face yet again. “How are ya feeling, Yer Highness?”
The Prince did not speak for a moment, eyes blinking up at his knight, but his cheeks were beginning to rudden up. “Miya…” he rasped out, “my demise… might be upon me.”
But the squire did not listen to the individual words coming out of the Prince’s mouth, more preoccupied with the Prince talking at all.
“The Prince speaks!” he cried, unable to contain his excitement. He jumped up atop of Atsumu, wringing his arms around his neck. “Oh, Atsumu-san, you have broken the curse!”
“Now, now, we oughta let the Prince rest, Shouyou-kun,” said Atsumu, wheeling the squire out of the Prince’s chambers. He tactfully omitted mentioning that the ailment was rather infectious, instead insisting that for the “curse” to fully cease, he needed to be left in his own solitude.
He was fairly certain that the Prince would appreciate it, too, being a man who favoured seclusion. While he walked out through the corridors with the squire trotting behind him, the sky cleared up, and the sun came streaming through the large glass panes.
ii.
The Prince, being Musubi’s golden boy, had always been good at everything his fingers touched. It must have been in the Sakusa blood, Atsumu deduced after suffering a painstakingly embarrassing defeat in a long-winded game of cards.
“Are ya sure this was yer first time playin’, Omi-kun?” groused Atsumu, collecting the small playing cards and sifting them through his fingers.
The Prince merely smirked. “Well, it is not like this game is that Daedelian, Miya. Or perhaps, you simply are a shoddy player.”
“Am not!” Atsumu said, throwing a bunch of cards at his face. “Here, the last round was surely rigged. Let’s go again!”
After fifteen minutes, Atsumu came to the sane conclusion that he either owned an entire deck of faulty cards, or the Prince had been placed upon this fruitful soil with one sole purpose - to wind Atsumu up.
But Atsumu had to thank the lord for small mercies, as he did not utterly excel at card games straight away, unlike his most beloved hobbies that included, but were not limited to, archery, jousting, playing the virginal, fencing, falconry, swimming, chess, calligraphy, whittling, knitting, horse-racing, and gossiping about the neighbouring rulers. The last one he was particularly excellent at.
It was a scorching summer afternoon that the Prince decided he was to go swimming in the large lake nearest to the castle. His cousin, Prince Motoya of Raijin, had arrived for a royal visit just the day prior, and implored the Prince to spend the remaining days of his stay with him.
This was how Atsumu found himself carrying the Princes’ belongings to the lakeside; a large linen towel in one hand and two fencing swords in the other, in case the two princes were to grow uninterested by the cool water.
“I wish we could go swimming as well,” the squire told him, carrying an inordinate basket filled with a number of different delicacies. “The water looks particularly splendid today.”
“Then why don’t ya?” asked Atsumu, setting the objects onto the clearing, nearest to the rocks. “I’m sure that the Prince won’t mind if ya went fer a dip.”
“Oh, how I would love to, Atsumu-san,” said the squire, sitting down next to the twin swords, “but that is a mere daydream, for I do not know how to swim!”
“Well, then sit back, my dear Shouyou-kun, and watch the old maestros go at it.” Atsumu perched himself down onto a large boulder. He crossed his arms behind his head, unabashed, as he watched the now shirtless Prince descend into the water.
The squire, having caught his gaze, gave him a knowing smile. “You seem quite fond of His Royal Highness, Atsumu-san,” said he, knocking his knee against the knight’s.
“I’m fond of ya, Shouyou-kun,” said Atsumu, eyes trailing lower. For someone as cleanly as the Prince, the region under his navel was quite hirsute. “I don’t suppose that this counts as fondness.”
The sun burned beautifully where the water met the sky. First, the Prince and his cousin swam laps around the lake until they got to a hundred, after which they had decided against such competitiveness and resorted to attempting to drag the other under the surface.
With the basket left unattended, the squire had declared that he would test its contents to ensure the food was safe. Three and a half pastries later, Atsumu had given up on berating him.
“This one isn’t at all noxious,” said Atsumu, licking the cream off his fingers. “It’s rather exquisite, actually.”
The squire grinned into his half-eaten slice of pie. “The princes must be delighted to have us look out for them.”
“We truly do care about their wellbeing, don’t we?” Atsumu nodded sagely. He was about to reach back into the basket, having eyed the hearty tartlet for a minute now, when a large splash startled the both of them.
There, in the water, the prince Motoya was seen hunched over the Prince’s lifeless body. The squire, ever so alert, jumped to his feet with the pie still in hand.
“What’s wrong?” called the squire, running over to the shallow end of the lake. “Is His Royal Highness alright?”
“He won't wake up!” he replied, dragging the Prince onto the shingles. “We were swimming and his head went under; we require assistance at once!”
“He is spiritless!” said the squire fretfully, pressing a hand to his wet face. “Aren’t sirens known for lurking in these muddy waters?”
“A siren’s curse,” repeated the Prince’s cousin, aghast. “How could I have been so blind?”
Atsumu moved both men aside, dropping to his knees. The Prince laid motionless, chest as still as stone. Without wasting any time, he pressed both his hands to his chest and began pushing down, before enveloping the Prince’s mouth with his own.
“A true love’s kiss!” the squire whispered to the Prince’s cousin. “I never thought I’d see one up close.”
The Prince had pulled away with a startled hack, sputtering water and saliva at the sudden rush of air. The squire had let out a loud gasp; the Prince’s cousin had burst into tears.
“You saved my cousin,” sobbed he, kneeling down next to them. “My, I thought you had perished!”
“So quick on your feet, Atsumu-san,” said the squire, as the Prince sat up, coughing violently. “I see now, why His Royal Highness favours you so.”
“Ya hafta be quick on yer feet when yer Prince is dyin’ every other day, Shouyou-kun,” said Atsumu, helping the Prince up.
The Prince’s cousin, well-endowed with tears and snot, simply turned his head away from the lake. “That is the last time I go swimming here,” he said, picking up a fencing sword. “To hell with these infested waters!”
iii.
Atsumu thought he had seen it all, but when he was suddenly pushed into the courtyard, he realised that he had been far from it.
There, on the porch nearest to the wisteria, sat a frog. It was rather ugly, staring up at him with its beady eyes and pudgy body.
“What a curious critter,” said Atsumu carefully, but the squire merely waved his sword around it.
“Look closer, Atsumu-san!” implored the squire. Atsumu did, but alas, nothing occurred.
“Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu said, finally looking away from the hideous creature. “I do not think I understand.”
“Then you must not know His Royal Highness,” said the squire, “when he is standing right in front of you!”
Atsumu looked around. “Where?” asked he.
“The frog!” said the squire. With all this sword swinging, Atsumu feared there might not be a Prince for very long. “He had been gone since noontide, nowhere to be seen - even the maids had not caught a single glimpse of him!”
“And he had transformed into this frog,” finished Atsumu. The squire nodded vigorously.
“You know,” he started, sheathing the sword, “perhaps, if you were to give the Prince a peck on the lips…”
Atsumu stepped away in revulsion. “I am not kissin’ a frog on the mouth!”
“But it worked last time, Atsumu-san!”
“No, it did not! A true love’s kiss did not save the Prince on that day, and is not gonna save him now, either!”
“You don’t know that!” reasoned the squire. The frog stared up at him, miserable. In its own, forlorn way, it did resemble the Prince to an extent.
“Ya want me to give it a kiss?” asked Atsumu. He picked up the frog with one hand before marching out of the courtyard. “Oh, I’ll give it a kiss, Shouyou-kun!”
“Where are you taking His Royal Highness, Atsumu-san?” called the squire, scrambling on after him. “Abducting a member of the royal family is considered a felony, you know!”
“Am I not allowed a little privacy?” Atsumu shouted back, but his face still reddened at the insinuation.
Quickly, Atsumu walked through the castle halls and out the front entrance, carrying the frog close to his chest. He walked down the rocky ledge and towards the lake, squatting down by the rocks before noticing a boy sitting by the water.
“Yer Highness?” he called, nearly tripping over a stone. “Omi-kun?”
The Prince turned his head around, a little, perplexed expression forming on his face. “What are you doing here, Miya?”
“Saving ya, apparently,” said Atsumu. He stretched out his arms and opened up his clasped hands, revealing the frog. “I was under the impression that ya had a rough encounter with an enchantress.”
“How noble,” said the Prince, with a slight sneer in his voice. He eyed the frog warily. “I just… needed a breath of fresh air.”
Atsumu sat down next to the Prince, placing the frog into the water. They both watched it swim away.
“Yer castle servants are growin’ quite fidgety because of yer absence, Omi Omi,” he said, bumping his shoulder against the Prince’s. “Yer squire especially.”
“Was he the one to mistake me for that amphibian?” snorted the Prince.
“Well, can ya blame him?” asked Atsumu. “Ya two look near identical.”
The Prince’s face morphed into a sullen frown. “Is that any way to speak to a royal?”
“Ya haven’t disproven me, though.” As if this were a new discovery, Atsumu prodded a finger against the side of the Prince’s face, poking his cheek with a sly grin. “The same malicious eyes… a surly frown… why, Omi-kun, I cannot tell ya apart!”
“I loathe you, Atsumu,” said the Prince, puffing up his cheeks like a sea urchin. Atsumu stifled a laugh.
“Come on, then, Yer Highness.” Atsumu stood up, dusting himself off, before offering his hand to the Prince. “Let’s get ya back in one piece before Shouyou-kun accuses me of abductin’ the king’s son.”
The Prince simply scoffed at him, but took his hand, nevertheless.
+i.
“You see,” said the squire to Atsumu, gesturing to the door to the Prince’s chambers. “His Royal Highness has not left his room in the past two days.”
Lowering his voice, the squire added:
“I think he might be cursed again.”
“Fer the last time, Shouyou-kun,” said Atsumu, “I’m yet to see a curse with my own two eyes. Has anyone even spoken to the Prince?”
“He does not speak, he does not eat,” the squire said sadly. “All he does is go to the bathing quarters for hours at a time before returning back to his bed! The last I’ve spoken to the maid, she said she overheard water running for a full three quarters of an hour!”
“All right,” said Atsumu, banging on the door to his room before forcing himself in. “Yer Highness!”
The Prince was laying on his bed, face-first. He barely acknowledged Atsumu’s sudden intrusion.
“Yer Highness, I come bearing stew!” Atsumu placed the bowl onto the table, sitting down next to him. “What irks ya, Omi-kun? And I know yer not cursed.”
A small silence befell them. Atsumu, who was not one to back down from a challenge, stayed put, eyes trained on his fingers, as the Prince lay lifeless next to him.
Then, in a voice too small to ever be mistaken for the Prince’s, he said, “Atsumu, do you believe in curses?”
“Curses?” repeated Atsumu, a little incredulous that the Prince, of all people, would ask such a thing. “Not particularly.”
In some way, the Prince got even quieter. “And a true love’s kiss?”
Atsumu let out a snort. “What, is Shouyou-kun finally rubbin’ off on ya?” he asked, sneaking a glance at the Prince, who remained face-down. “His imagination is somethin’ else, Omi-kun. Ya can’t possibly believe there exists a curse that can be broken with something as simple as a kiss.”
The Prince, with all his might, shifted on the mattress, until he was eye to eye with Atsumu. It was only then, when illuminated by the gentle candlelight, that Atsumu noticed he was crying.
“I think you might be wrong, Atsumu,” said the Prince. “I think I really might be cursed.”
“But ya don’t look ill to me,” Atsumu said. He sat a little straighter. “Are ya hungry, Omi-kun? Are ya hurt?”
“Yes,” whispered the Prince, and then his face hardened. “My heart hurts. My head does, as well.”
Atsumu was about to reach for the stew, when the Prince stopped him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “ I… think you should leave,” said the Prince. “I do not want you to return till you find a remedy.”
With that, Atsumu was banished from the Prince’s chambers and tasked to discover the cure to his malady. For two days and two nights, Atsumu paced the grounds of Musubi in hope of finding something that would break the curse.
On the third day, when Atsumu was sparring with Bokuto Koutarou, another knight in training, it had come to him. Nearly dropping his sword, Atsumu ran from the courtyard and up the spiralled staircase. He banged on the doors to the Prince’s room, before nearly doing them in.
“I have finally figured it out!” cried Atsumu, striding across the room. “The panacea to yer problem.”
Grabbing hold of the Prince’s face, Atsumu pressed their lips together, kissing him soundly. He drew back just enough to see the Prince’s reddened expression, before diving back in, bombarding his countenance until his lips were to fall off.
“I’m sorry it took me so long, Yer Highness,” Atsumu whispered against his cheek. “For days, I have pondered this quandary, and only now do I see how simple it is.”
“For someone so smart, you sure are daft,” replied the Prince, but sure enough, he was smiling.
Atsumu grinned. “Ya love it,” said he, and it was only at that moment that he knew it to be true.
“Oh, Atsumu,” the Prince laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.