Work Text:
The chamber stank of old velvet and older blood.
Heavy drapes smothered the windows, sealing out light. A fire crackled in the hearth, ill-timed in spring heat, but no one dared mention comfort. Not with the air thick with old men’s rage and desperation.
Kiyotaka Ishimaru stood at the table’s head, spine straight as a sword, hands clenched behind his back. He wore the Ishimaru crimson, starched and pristine, as if order alone could hold a kingdom together.
It couldn’t.
His posture was perfect, but his gloves were creased. He had been gripping too hard for too long.
“To even consider negotiation is an act of cowardice,” Lord Byakuya Togami said coolly, arms folded across his chest.
He never raised his voice. His perpetual contempt did the work for him. “These insurgents aren’t philosophers. They are animals with stolen fire, and fire must be extinguished.”
“Spoken like a man who’s never had to choose between bread and breath,” murmured Lady Celestia Ludenberg, seated by the window. Draped in black lace and crimson silk, she held her teacup like a weapon. “Or perhaps you have…and made peace with your cruelty.”
Byakuya sneered. “Spare us your gothic theatrics. This is not a stage.”
“No,” Celeste said, with lazy elegance, “but you are playing a familiar role: the arrogant heir who believes bloodlines equal brilliance.”
Kiyotaka stepped forward before their egos could draw swords.
“The kingdom is breaking,” he said, voice sharp as flint. “We’ve lost two provinces in the west. The people aren’t enemies. They are ours, and they’re suffering.”
“They are traitors,” Byakuya snapped. “And traitors are not reformed. They’re crushed. If we don’t show strength, we’ll be devoured.”
Celeste gave a cold laugh. “How strange. You mistake brutality for strength. Perhaps you should examine the great King Toranosuke’s legacy more closely. He too believed violence made him untouchable.”
“And yet he held the realm,” Byakuya replied, brushing dust from his sleeve. “This little prince—” he gestured to Kiyotaka, “—wants to trade tradition for idealism. We might as well paint the throne room pink.”
A pause. Heavy. Weighted.
Kiyotaka let the silence breathe, then broke it with steel.
“I intend to reform this kingdom, not surrender it. The people will see the difference, even if you don’t.”
Byakuya’s gaze narrowed. “Then you will learn the hard way how little ideals matter to starving people with hate in their hearts.”
He smirked. “Or would you rather abdicate? Let the commoners vote on their next king?”
Kiyotaka’s jaw tightened. “I will not abdicate.”
“Then perhaps they’ll take your head,” murmured Celeste. “And hang it over the gates like a warning.”
The words settled like smoke.
Kiyotaka’s voice stayed even. “If that is what it takes to prove that we are not our ancestors…then so be it.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Disbelief. Disapproval. But beneath it, the stirrings of fear. He didn’t care.
“But I will not abdicate,” Kiyotaka said sharply. “And I will not follow in my grandfather’s footsteps.”
“No,” Celeste purred. “But many will wish you had.”
♘⚔♘
The war council dispersed soon after in cold silence. No bows, only glances sharp enough to draw blood. Kiyotaka stayed behind, eyes on the map. Flags marked the kingdom in red and rebellion in black.
The black was spreading.
His hand hovered over the central provinces, fingers brushing the parchment like he could will it back together. He didn’t flinch when the doors creaked open.
“Your Highness,” came the cool voice of Captain Izumi Hamasaki. “There’s been…a situation.”
Kiyotaka turned. “What kind?”
Hamasaki stepped forward and laid something on the table.
A dagger. It was sleek and curved, and the tip was stained dark, reeking of something sharp and chemical.
Poison.
“It was found beneath your pillow,” he said. “Someone breached your bedchamber.”
Kiyotaka stared at the blade, his throat tight. His voice still came out clear.
“Inform His Majesty. He’ll want to assign me a bodyguard.”
“He already has,” Hamasaki said.
Kiyotaka raised a brow. “Who?”
“Mondo Owada.”
There were names Kiyotaka had expected. Noble sons with polished swords and cleaner reputations. Mondo Owada was not among them.
“…You’re certain?”
“I carried the order myself,” Hamasaki replied. “Signed and sealed.”
Of course. Kiyotaka pressed his fingers to his temple.
The kingdom was crumbling, someone wanted him dead, and now he would be babysat by a reputable brute with more scars than etiquette.
He didn’t have time for this.
♘⚔♘
Mondo Owada arrived at the palace gates on a borrowed horse, mud on his boots and dried blood adorning his knuckles. Not fresh, but certainly not old enough to forget. He was dressed in a crestless suit of dented, only bearing the faded mark of a defunct regiment. His hair was wild, only barely tied back.
He didn’t bow as he dismounted. The guards watched him like dogs at a feast, but if he noticed he didn’t seem to care.
The throne room doors opened with ceremonial grandeur. Mondo entered, unimpressed. Kiyotaka stood at the far end of the chamber, still in formal court attire, every inch the prince. They stared at each other like opposing weather fronts.
“…You,” Kiyotaka said.
“Yeah,” Mondo grunted, rolling his shoulders. “Guess I’m your new babysitter.”
Kiyotaka’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a child. Nor do I need—”
“You got a fuckin’ poisoned knife in your bed, my dude,” Mondo interrupted. “Pretty sure that says otherwise.”
Kiyotaka’s expression hardened.
“I am the Crown Prince of the Ishimaru dynasty,” he snapped, voice like a drawn sword. “You will address me with the decorum that title demands!”
Mondo raised an unimpressed brow. “Yeah? Well, Your Highness ,” he spat, “somebody already stuck a poisoned knife under your pillow. Maybe it’s time to stop worrying about titles and start worryin’ about not dyin’.”
“You insolent oaf!” Kiyotaka exploded, cloak flaring as he stepped forward. “You think I don’t worry? You think I asked for a brute to stomp mud through my palace and insult me to my face?!”
“You sure complain like you did,” Mondo shot back. “But hey, you want me gone, fine. Just tell the king yourself. I got better things to do than get yelled at by some stuck-up little—”
“Enough!”
The word cracked through the air like thunder, ringing in the vaulted chamber. Even the guards outside the door flinched.
“I don’t care how many things you think you have to do,” Kiyotaka thundered, pointing at Mondo like he could strike him down with sheer force of will. “You will do this. You will protect me. You will follow orders. And you will do it without dragging this castle down to your level of barbarism!”
Mondo’s nostrils flared, but he held his ground. “Fine. I’ll guard your royal ass. But I ain’t kissin’ it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do anything that delicate,” Kiyotaka spat. “You’d probably break your own jaw trying.”
A charged silence hung between them.
Finally, Kiyotaka turned away with a furious swelp of his cloak, glaring at the nearest guard.
“Ready the guest quarters. Put him as far from my rooms as possible. I want to forget he’s under my roof.”
“Y’know I’ll be outside your door anyway, right?” Mondo said, loud and pointed. “That’s what a bodyguard does, prince.”
Kiyotaka stopped at the doorway, spine rigid. He didn’t look back.
“Then bring a book,” he snarled. “And read quietly . I have enough headaches already.”
He disappeared down the corridor, leaving Mondo behind with only the echo of shouted commands and a rising migraine.
Mondo raked a hand through his hair.
“Royal pain in the ass,” he grumbled, and trudged after him.
♘⚔♘
Kiyotaka had demanded the chance to tour the outer provinces himself, to see the state of the kingdom firsthand. The High Council had approved with conspicuous haste, eager to be rid of him. Their first stop, the farming village Hikarigawa, was meant to house the meeting with a minor regional official. But what they found instead was smoke, ruin, and the stench of blood.
Thick smoke curled from the edges of the ruined village, clinging to the back of Mondo’s throat.
The rebels hadn’t just hit the roads. They’d hit Hikarigawa, too. A raid, meant to send a message. Homes had been torched, livestock scattered. The wounded lay where they fell, groaning softly under the open sky. No medics. No reinforcements. Just Mondo, Kiyotaka, and whatever field supplies they could scavenge from the carriage.
Mondo swept the area with his axe still in hand, checking corners for stragglers. He didn’t trust the quiet. Not here.
Then he saw the prince.
Kiyotaka had dismounted a few minutes earlier, his white cloak already streaked with soot. He searched through the wreckage, with no guards or orders. Just a furrow in his brow and a kind of stubborn urgency in his stride.
Then he dropped to his knees beside a figure slumped near the well.
It was a woman, maybe forty, blood seeping from a gash in her leg. She flinched when Kiyotaka touched her, but he didn’t recoil. Just murmured something Mondo couldn’t hear and pulled a length of cloth from his own sleeve to use as a bandage.
His hands shook, but he worked anyway, pressing down to stop the bleeding. The woman whimpered. He didn’t let go.
Mondo stood still, halfway across the square, watching.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe a prince who’d sneer at filth like this, or call for a physician, then vanish inside the nearest intact building. Someone too proud to touch the broken.
And yet, Kiyotaka stayed.
His back was rigid, his expression grim. But he stayed there, crouched in the dirt beside a wounded stranger, doing the best he could with hands that clearly weren’t used to this kind of work.
He looks small, almost, Mondo thought. Not weak, but like a man instead of a prince.
When Kiyotaka finally rose, his knees stained with ash and his cuffs soaked through, he looked down at his bloodied sleeves like he’d forgotten what he was wearing. His face was unreadable.
Mondo looked away before their eyes could meet.
♘⚔♘
The road to Mikuryu wound through hills and forest that Kiyotaka hadn’t seen since childhood. The carriage rattled steadily over uneven dirt, the curtains half-drawn. Mondo rode beside the driver, arms folded, eyes sharp beneath the overcast sky.
They hadn’t spoken much since Hikarigawa. The silence prickled. Kiyotaka refused to admit it bothered him.
Then came a whistle. A second later, the thunder of hooves followed.
The first arrow thunked into the driver’s chest. He slumped forward without a sound. Mondo moved before the body hit the ground. He vaulted from the seat, dragging Kiyotaka down as arrows peppered the carriage.
“Stay low!” Mondo barked, already drawing his axe from its harness.
Rebels surged from the treeline, ten, maybe twelve of them, with scavenged armor and the snarl of hungry wolves. Kiyotaka scrambled behind a ruined carriage wheel, breath caught in his throat as Mondo charged.
He fought like wildfire.
There was no grace to it, just raw, ruthless strength. Mondo split one rebel’s shield and chest with a roar, backhanded another, ducked a spear, yanked it free, and hurled it into the attacker’s gut.
Blood hit the dirt like spilled ink. The rebels faltered. One fled. Another dropped to his knees, weapon discarded.
Kiyotaka watched from behind the wheel, heart pounding so loud it almost drowned out the screams.
When it was over, bodies littered the road. Mondo stood in the center of them, breath ragged, his axe dark and dripping. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his glove, then turned toward the prince.
“You good?” he called, voice hoarse.
Kiyotaka stepped out, shaken but uninjured. His posture was stiff, but his eyes were wide.
“I want to question the last one,” he said.
Mondo grunted. “He ain’t gonna be friendly.”
“I don’t care. Tie him up.”
They bound the rebel tightly to a tree. His face was bruised, but he was still conscious and defiant.
“Tell me who sent you,” Kiyotaka demanded.
The rebel laughed, blood on his lips. “Didn’t need orders from no one, princeling. Not when you ride through starving land in a velvet box.”
Kiyotaka stiffened. “I’ve come to help.”
“You’ve come too late.”
“I didn’t start this war—”
“No,” the rebel hissed, “but you carry his name.”
That stopped him cold.
“Toranosuke,” the man growled. “burned our crops to punish our dissent. He conscripted children. He called it loyalty. And now you wear his crest and ask why we’re angry?”
Kiyotaka said nothing.
“You can change your laws and tone, but the people still see you. And they see him ”
The rebel spat blood into the dirt.
Kiyotaka left without another word.
♘⚔♘
That night, they camped off-road, surrounded by the dark hush of the woods. The fire crackled. Kiyotaka sat stiffly, hands clenched, the rebel’s words echoing in his head.
Mondo sharpened his axe nearby. The scrape of stone on steel grated on Kiyotaka’s nerves until, finally, something in him snapped.
“Why did you accept this position?” he demanded, standing. “You’ve made it clear you think I’m useless. So why stay?”
Mondo looked up. He didn’t answer right away. The firelight caught on his scars.
“You despise me,” Kiyotaka said, louder, “like everyone else. So why?”
Mondo stared at him a moment longer. Then he set the whetstone down and stood.
“I’ve seen what happens when a weak man takes the throne,” he said.
Kiyotaka blinked.
“You’re not weak. A pain in the ass, yeah. Pathetic, a little. But unlike your grandfather, you’ve got a human head on your shoulders.”
Kiyotaka didn’t know what to say.
He thought of Hikarigawa. The woman by the well. Blood on his sleeves. They didn’t speak again that night.
But in the morning, Mondo tossed him a strip of dried meat. Kiyotaka didn’t thank him, but he ate it.
♘⚔♘
Some time after they returned, Kiyotaka learned the truth about Mondo by accident. A letter tucked into an old military ledger, half-burned, but legible enough: Daiya Owada—executed by royal decree. Charges: incitement, assault, sedition.
Mondo didn’t deny it when confronted, just said, “He was my brother,” and wouldn’t meet Kiyotaka’s eyes.
It wasn’t just the monarchy’s fault. A bar brawl turned street riot, both brothers arrested, but only Daiya was sentenced. Mondo was younger. So he was spared and then used.
“It’s my fault. If I’d kept my head,” Mondo said, low, bitter, “If I hadn’t thrown the first punch, he wouldn’t’ve died wearin’ chains.”
Kiyotaka didn’t know what to say, what he could say, but there was no way he could agree.
♘⚔♘
The castle was quiet that night. Too quiet for comfort.
Kiyotaka found the spy’s trail in a sealed dispatch: forged routes, troop counts, someone feeding the rebels from within. Before he could act, a dagger found his chambers. The king was poisoned at dinner. Kiyotaka survived only because he took his meal late.
Blood on the floor. Panic in the halls. The kingdom cracked at the seams.
He found Mondo outside the war room, staring into the rain. “If I fall,” Kiyotaka asked, raw and trembling, “will you fight for me?”
Mondo didn’t answer, but Kiyotaka chose to put his faith in him. He didn’t exactly have a choice anymore. Mondo was the only person left in this kingdom, or perhaps in the entire world, that he could trust.
♘⚔♘
The blade came fast, so fast Kiyotaka barely saw it. But Mondo did.
He threw himself between. Metal bit into flesh. Mondo grunted, blood blooming down his side, but he didn’t fall.
“Guess,” he panted, “you got your answer, Your Highness.”
♘⚔♘
The rebellion faltered.
It didn’t end, far from it. But with every attempt foiled, every village reclaimed, the people began to believe again. Not in the crown, but maybe in the man who now wore it.
And beside him, the man who bled for it.
♘⚔♘
Mondo’s bandages were fresh. The wound would scar. Kiyotaka visited him anyway.
“You could leave,” Kiyotaka said. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Mondo shrugged. “Yeah, well. I don’t like leavin’ things unfinished. ‘Sides, who else is gonna save your stubborn ass next time someone leaves a dagger under your pillow?”
Kiyotaka should argue. Should insist.
He didn’t.
Instead, he reached for Mondo’s hand. Calloused fingers met his own, and for once, Mondo let him.
A beat of silence.
A decision neither of them expected to make.
Kiyotaka leaned in, just enough to be almost touching. Mondo closed the distance.
♘⚔♘
The sun rose gold over the castle, not triumphant, but still steady. Kiyotaka stood at the parapet, watching it break through the mist.
This time, Mondo stood beside him.