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“My first kiss,” Ena announced, “will be special.”
“It will be on a warm, summer sunrise–no, sunset, and it will be after my sixteenth birthday, but before I’m eighteen–I can’t be old when it happens.”
Her father sighed, mumbling something about wild eight year olds before resuming his painting, only occasionally glancing at his daughter as she pranced around the room.
“It will be with the one–I’ll know when I see him, like love at first sight! Oh, but father,” she paused, turning to face him with great severity. “You must find someone to kidnap me.”
There was a beat of silence before Shinei burst out laughing. “Kidnap? Ha, I would never allow such a thing.”
“But you must!” Ena grumbled with a small stomp, fists balled on either side. “It’s how it’s supposed to go.”
“Nonsense,” her father shook his head dismissively, turning back to his art. “Nothing like that will ever happen, not on my watch.”
“But–!”
Her angry retort cut off with a sharp inhale as she puffed out her cheeks, brandishing her fiercest pout and wobbling lip, accompanied by a strained note of protest. She held the position for a good few seconds until her face grew hot, tomato-like, and her lungs uncomfortable. With no other choice, she let go with a heavy gasp. He hadn’t looked up once.
“Are you done now?”
Ena pouted at his indifference. “Fine…” She’d figure it out another time. Perhaps, for now, her father just didn’t know who to contact and was too embarrassed to admit it. That was fine! She could wait. A kidnapping right now didn’t sound particularly nice, after all.
So what else was there?
“I’ll only kiss someone handsome–he’ll have to be handsome, not like the guys here,” she stuck her tongue out at mental images of the boys in her classes, “he should be…” She paused, scratching her brain for the image of a man–a true man, like all those she’d read about. “Tall.. Muscular… Beard?” Did he need a beard? The princes in fairy tales were usually clean shaven… And facial hair seemed kind of gross. But that didn’t matter just yet. Right now, she was missing something more important.
“Horses! He must like horses. If Cheesecake doesn’t approve of him I can’t either.” She toddled towards the window and placed a hand on the polished glass, watching the shape of the stables below. Her foal, Cheesecake, was somewhere in there. She wasn’t old enough to be ridden yet, just born a week ago, but after spending a whole eleven-and-a-half minutes together Ena already knew they were destined to be partners forever and always. She’d finally have someone to consult about all the important stuff, like how the cooks could never seem to remember that pancakes should be for breakfast every day, without getting told off for being rude! And Cheesecake would have only the most sensible judgements; animals had a knack for that kind of thing. She might not be able to talk, but Ena would understand Cheesecake perfectly fine in no time.
“What about your parents?” Her father’s chuckle snapped her attention back, and she twisted back to face him.
“Of course you’ll have to like him! It’d be bad if you don’t.”
Shinei smiled and she perked up, the silent praise well received. When he kicked her out she left with warmth and an excited buzz, her mind swimming with hypotheticals about her destined soulmate, how she’d know it when she saw him, how different he’d look from the cooties-ridden boys she’d met, and perhaps more enjoyably, how fun it’d be when she, and Cheesecake, were both big enough to go on long rides together, preferably into the woods to find some faraway magic mushroom kingdom.
She couldn't wait to be swept off her feet—at least find out what that meant–by some perfect prince; an ‘other half’ to live happily ever after with, just like the stories.
In her childish naivete, she never could’ve imagined–nor accepted–how wrong she’d been.
Akiyama Mizuki was no such person by any means.
“I still can’t believe you named your horse Carrot.”
Ena couldn’t mask her disdain as she watched the knight, perched atop a glossy grey mare, grin in shameless delight. “Of course, don’t you think it fits her?”
Her scowl only ingrained itself deeper as Mizuki slipped off, frustratingly graceful as she pulled off her trademark silent landing. It wasn’t fair for someone so annoying to be so elegant. It wasn’t fair for it to be so mesmerising, the way she moved, so effortless, so utterly unfair; it didn’t match her at all. Most frustratingly of all, she was self aware, catching Ena’s stare with an audacious smirk.
She huffed, leaning back on the bench. “I can’t believe you.”
“What, because I named my horse after her favourite food? C’mon princess, it’s cute.”
“How can it be cute?” Ena gestured vaguely with her pencil, “it’s a fucking vegetable, how can it be–no, don’t give me that.” Furrowing her brow further, she glared as Mizuki doubled over to snort midway through scratching under Carrot’s bridle, laughing more when the horse nosed her waist greedily. If Ena thought the sight was endearing–which it wasn’t–she didn’t mention it, only tapping her foot impatiently.
“Sorry, sorry,” Mizuki fished a small carrot from her pocket, feeding the impatient mare with one hand while wiping her eyes with the other. “It’s just–Akito had exactly the same reaction.”
Ena scoffed. “He did not.”
“Nuh-uh! He totally did.”
Ena brushed the hay stalks from her lap and stood up with a grunt. “I did it first. I’m older.”
Mizuki faced her curiously, completely ignoring Carrot, who’d gone straight back to treat seeking. “That’s not how it–ah, nevermind.” Her face fell into a lopsided smile, though Ena found herself hoping it was for her, it was probably from Carrot’s wide snout tickling her neck. “You’re funny, Enanan.”
“Enanan? What’s that supposed to be from?”
“Nothing in particular,” Mizuki flexed her typical wink and smirk, an expression Ena had mentally dubbed ‘the Mizuki look,’ renowned for being the precursor to anything annoying. Which, for reference, was everything. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”
The most annoying thing of all was how she could never prepare for Mizuki. She had a knack for catching Ena off guard, sometimes more than others, and her reaction was almost always an undignified colouration or splutter.
The general retort she’d prepared evaporated as she held Mizuki’s gaze, mind suddenly racing for something else to say. It was a mistake. Usually replies came easily, but something about the mirth in those pretty, rose quartz eyes drained her mind of words, thoughts, and even clarity. She should know better by now. This always happened; sometimes she even forgot to breathe.
God. Even her appearance was annoying.
She couldn’t afford to hesitate any longer. If she did, Mizuki would know she’d won, though that didn’t make it any easier to find a witty response. So instead, Ena crossed her arms and grunted. “I’ll allow it.”
For a second she could’ve sworn Mizuki’s smile turned genuine, but she’d already turned back to Carrot before she could know for sure.
“Soooo Enanan,” Mizuki’s voice picked up that damn tune she’d grown so used to, and Ena knew what would be asked next. “How was your date?”
Ena’s expression soured. “Four,” she said, leaning the back of her head against the stable wall, “out of a hundred.”
“A hundred?” Mizuki snorted, the jingle of Carrot’s reins accenting those bright notes. “Must not have been very good then.”
“None of them are.” Ena frowned as the words came out. None of them. It was true, wasn’t it? A new suitor came almost every month, and had done so for over a year. Every month Ena had met a new disappointment, someone who couldn’t make her laugh, or smile, or even interest her remotely. At some point she’d given up hiding it completely, and now she’d heard ‘cranky princess’ behind her back enough times to know she had a reputation.
Cranky…
She wasn’t cranky. She was just fed up with all the fake laughing and fake smiling–all for some flat-faced bozo who was only trying because of exterior, political motivations. They weren’t authentic at all, not like Mizuki was. She could hear it now, in that laugh.
Mizuki had a very unique laugh. It was raw and pleasant to listen to, not at all governed by strict etiquette or muted for the sake of stupid propriety. No, Mizuki laughed because she wanted to laugh–was it so hard to find a partner like that?
That man told her once she had high standards. Whatever he thought was so high about a little authenticity she was ecstatic to know. This was someone she’d be stuck with for life, right? She could afford to be fussy. She couldn’t be looking for someone unrealistic because Mizuki was right there to prove it possible. Airi too, in a way. People who’d make her laugh and smile more in ten minutes than even the most tryhard suitors could in a week.
Besides, the prince from today…“He looked like he had a lemon in his mouth all morning,” she added, a small smirk forming at the memory. There was something awfully humourous about a guy trying to impress you all while looking desperately constipated. She almost pitied him. Key word, almost. “Tripped the footman too, didn’t even apologise.”
“Nerves?”
“Oh totally, but nerves don’t excuse trampling the roses.”
“Seriously?” There was a shift in the dirt as the knight paused her patdown and turned to face her. Ena had to tilt her head down and nod for the disbelief to set in. “Wow,” Mizuki said, tossing a damp sponge. “That’s just foul. Sorry you had to put up with that.”
“Thanks.” In honesty, Ena had been grateful the suitor sucked. The king had been trying to play matchmaker for far too long, and all his options were sickening in their own way. Dumb childhood dreams of ‘the perfect guy’ had long since faded, and she was yet to find a man to even interest her. They were all shitheads in their own, unique ways.
“Then...” Mizuki had finished caring for Carrot and stepped closer, hands resting innocently behind her back as she not-so-subtly tried to look at Ena’s sketchbook. “Did you get what you were looking for?”
“No peeking.” Ena was a little too quick to snap the book shut in Mizuki’s face and she reacted instantly, straightening up with an apologetic smile. “But yes, I did.”
What she didn’t say was that the sketches, although indeed useful live-action anatomy studies of a horseback rider, were more like Mizuki studies. Her pages weren’t filled with generic action sketches, but a collage of mini Mizukis all from different angles, laughing, grinning, smirking, all atop an ambiguously horse-shaped blob. She couldn’t help it; Mizuki just had a very pleasant and drawable face. Another thing added to her ever-building standards. The person she married would have to at least be as drawable as her.
Would she ever mention that? Absolutely not. That was going to the grave, which was why she pinched the pages just a little tighter, trying her utmost to look unbothered and not suspicious.
Thankfully, Mizuki didn’t push further. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, though the honesty of her words was discounted by a childish wink. “If you ever need my help again, as your one and only personal knight, you know who to call.”
Personal knight. Ena rolled her eyes at the title, ignoring the smile tugging at her lips. It was a label that existed to them, and them alone. Formally she had no such thing as a ‘personal knight,’ and if she did, the king would’ve assigned someone far more experienced than a new graduate to the task—a late graduate, at that. No, the truth was that Mizuki had just spontaneously decided it one day, and, well, Ena hadn’t been able to get rid of her since. Not to say she was a problem, annoying personality aside she made an excellent reference. Drawing Mizuki was a little addictive, actually.
She wouldn’t mention that either.
Ena hung around a while longer after that, watching Mizuki pamper Carrot while rambling on about her day, how she’d almost tripped Akito up (“on purpose?” “I told them it was an accident”), and Ena couldn’t help but relish how fun it could be to listen. Between all the high formalities and crafted impressions she had to make, the times with Mizuki were always her loosest. She could tease, be teased, laugh and groan, and not have to wait to be spoken to and it would all be alright. With Mizuki she could be herself. No repercussions, no shit about upperclass mannerisms and no need to hold back on what she wanted to say. It was liberating.
As much as she hated it, a voice inside reminded her that she had to start faking it again with the suitors. Not yet, but soon. A reputation of crankiness just couldn’t do, ‘Ena the cranky’ didn’t have a good ring to it, not to mention it was totally undeserved. If only her dates were actually funny, or even remotely pleasant–wouldn’t that make her job so much easier?
Maybe she’d just have to hang out with Mizuki more to compensate. The idea didn’t sound as painful as it looked on paper, weirdly.