Chapter Text
Stallions, large prideful white stallions, galloping along a desired path. The owner is alike this large beast, the stallions mane matching one with its owner. The stallions personality matching its owner. They both feel rushing air of freedom, freedom—
“Prince Gojo!” A cane smacks down on an oak desk near fingers that curl backwards in surprise. Gojo blinks the fantasy of the white stallion he was imagining himself on violently balking in his imagination sending him flying back into the seat of the tutoring class. “…yes?” Gojo sheepishly grins looking up at his tutor, a large man named Yaga who yells at him to call him ‘Mr Masamichi!’ that made his ears ring for days. “Revise. Now.” Mr Masamichi straightens crossing his arms blocking the board forcing Gojo to use his intellect instead of mercy from the board gracing him with reminders. Gojo clears his throat to gain a few more seconds to get himself together. “That’s easy, well, of course. I will revise, because it’s so easy. Infact, I’ll do it right now. And you’ll see, that I was infact listening about this topic. Because—
Mr Masamichi groans pinching his nose as Gojo makes it more obvious he’s trying to seem like he does remember when he’s had his head in his ass for who knows how long, possibly the whole lessson. “Stop, stop there. That’s enough for today.”
Gojo smiled smugly closing his scribbled notebook, fine paper wasted on horse doodles and crude depictions of Mr Masamichi. “Oh well. Always tomorrow. Ah, wait no. There’s a party scheduled from morning to night. Directly on our much ‘needed’ lessons. And I’d hate to miss such a big event.” Gojo drags his words sarcastically rolling his tongue on the last two words. “Shame, I was looking forward to…” Gojo dramatically rolls his wrist at the board while standing up. “Whatever this nonesense was.” He shot a glance at Mr Masamichi who he expected to be turning red in anger. But instead he was met with a dead serious expression. “You are 14, Prince Gojo. Your father’s crown grows more heavy on his head each moment. And yet your head hasn’t been strong enough to catch that crown ever since we started these lessons when you were 6.” Mr Masamichi hasn’t moved his fingers from his nose, almost stressed watching the heir be more preoccupied with his silly thoughts then the looming responsibilities of becoming a King.
“This is gone too far Prince Gojo. Rather you learn or you watch your kingdom suffer from your incompetence!” His fist slams on the desk. Gojo doesn’t flinch, rather his head cocks downwards glaring at the other man arrogantly. “Wah, Wah, Wah, what a shame. Go tell someone who’ll actually listen to that bullshit.” Gojo mocks leaving Mr Masamichi and his warnings in the dusk.
His kingdom? Why should he care about people he doesn’t even know. He’d rather be riding that magnificent stallion…. Blue reins and a mane that shivers like sliver against the sun. His boots echo from down the hall until he appears in the garden where he could see the preparations for the party being made at this very moment. A finger taps his shoulder, smell of herbs and smoke curling behind him. Turning he is greeted by a girl with a mole under her left eye, brown chocolate coloured hair, and an expression of indifference. “You forgot this.” Shoko the apothecary’s daughter/apprentice held out a familiar book. The one he purposely left on his desk. Before he could get it back she holds it open revealing the pages upon pages of crude drawings, and of course horses. “Yikes, it’s obvious you love horses more than Mr Masamichi. How come he looks more like an animal than the horse?” She smirks as Gojo snatched it from her as he huffed obviously annoyed she gave it back to him despite his dramatic exit leaving behind the book like a princesses glass shoe.
“Come on, don’t you see the resemblance? I drew him as true to the soul.” Gojo strolls along the garden Shoko following loosely behind him who shrugs at the comparison, almost seeing it but choosing not to. “Somewhat. What’s your deal with him anyway. Top tutor being paid who knows how much to deal with you yet you treat him like something to wipe your ass with.”
Gojo barks in laughter familiar with this type of Shoko, raw and unfiltered energy, something that felt real person to person, friend to friend. “Look, nice guy.” Shoko raises an eyebrow at his words, not believing it for a second. “Fine. I just don’t like being told what to do. And reminded of ‘the future.’ And how he says my dad is gonna die in a poetic fashion.” They enter a arbour covering the last place to be touched by the renovations for the party. “Well, I can’t change your mind.” Shoko crossed her arms staring up at sunlight half covered by flowers and controlled grown vines making patterns of sunlight on the both of them. “Thats right, you can’t.” Gojo comments, sure of his place and his thoughts. He squints as sunlight kisses his skin and pierced his light blue eyes harder than Shoko’s eyes.
The day passes without any need to raise his fist higher than his waist, everything came, everything moved at his will just by existing.
< Day of the party
Gojo awakes to servants presenting him with his outfit for the party which will be predominantly held in the garden. The light blue colours complimenting against the spring gardens colourful greens and flowers that are in full bloom. Everything is so vibrant and beautiful it slightly hurts his very sensitive eyes. Yet these eyes show his legacy, his line, the very bloodline that has been said to be descended from gods from their unique strength and striking eyes and white snowy fallen hair. It’s almost scary how commoners pray to them instead of the many gods they worshiped before the Gojo bloodline took hold of power.
Entering the garden it was filled with nobles across the country and kingdom. Faces that have already been seen enough to know each dip of their skin across their face, each mole, pitch of tone and voice, Gojo knew it all. A flood of familiar faces yet Gojo didn’t know them or he just didn’t want to know. Afterall, everyone here is just an intimation of what they want to be seen as better yet want to be know as. Haruki the Kind, but who endorses the abuse of women, Jane the loyal but who visits the priest that can’t been trusted as ‘faith’ to god. That’s why he was such great friends with Shoko, she presents herself as she truly is and doesn’t bend to get on Gojo’s good side. Gojo moves through the crowd finding the macrons and greedily stuffing his face and slipping some into his sleeves for… later use. Gojo slips away but not as silently as he hopes. A hand is placed on his shoulder halting him from sneaking off. “Is this the event you were wishing not to miss? Where do you think you’re off too Prince Gojo?” Mr Masamichi held him there, Gojo’s face turning from passive neutrality to utter annoyance. Nose scrunching and eyes ready to roll into the back of his head. His head turns looking up at Mr Masamichi. “I was looking for someone.” He lies without shame.
“….” And Mr Masamichi knows more than anyone else when he’s lying. “That can be done later, I have someone I want you to meet.”
A silent figure stands beside Mr Masamichi, a boy around Gojo’s age. Black shoulder length hair that came down like ink waterfalls against pristine paper, and all so captivating brown eyes that had a golden shiver to them adding all to this alluring person. What most spoke about them was their lack of understanding of blending into nobility or Gojo’s small circle of faces he’s used too. It was new. All so… alarming and refreshing at the same time which mostly made them alluring to Gojo. “This is Geto. Suguru Geto.” Masamichi moves slightly to present Geto more but still holding tightly onto Gojo making sure he doesn’t squirm his way out of this one. “He’s from common blood, but he’ll he joining you in lessons and everyday life. Hopefully you’ll learn something from this.”
And the alluring nature turned into a sour taste on Gojo’s tongue. This boy? Learning something from him? Now he seemed like a spoiled plum presenting to be in its prime for plucking. Another person to bend around him, another fake mask to the many that make up this party. Gojo scoffed not hiding his disdain for this. Geto in response suddenly scrunched his nose almost like him. Gojo doubled takes, did he just scrunch his nose at him? HIM? SATORU GOJO? Whatever, maybe his mask was hard to keep up. “So wherever you’re going. Take him with you.” Mr Masamichi pushed them both along, Geto and Gojo’s shoulders bumming into each other. Gojo turned to protest but a glare from a window made him sulk and march off with a little someone following behind him.
And so Gojo takes sharp turns along the palaces halls, a quickened pace hard to keep up with but somehow… Geto managed to keep up, not loosely but breathing down his neck type of pace. More alarming and of course refreshing now like an alluring newly discovered fruit. Thinking off fruit metaphors made his mouth water a little. Soon they arrived to the royal stables. Grand horses peeking their heads to look at the two boys. It’s silent here but smells as you expect it to be. Gojo remains quiet as he approaches a black maned stallion. He takes out a macaroon and presents it to the beautiful beast.
“How many times do you feed it that.” Geto finally spoke. Gojo doesn’t look over. “More times than you’ve probably ever had it.”
Geto says silent then. “No wonder it looks fat.” He muttered but loud enough to be heard.
Gojo’s head whipped over offended on the horses behalf. The stallion licks his hand clean of the macaroon Geto showing visible disgust. “You the horse expert? He’s healthy!” Gojo grumbles, but. He felt. Surprised. That was a lot of bite for someone meant to bend around him. The cogs turn in his head. “If you know so much about how much horses are supposed to eat. Go give that one a macaroon. Teach me like you’re supposed too.” He walks to Geto pinching out a macaroon from his sleeve and giving it to Geto with the sloppy saliva covered hand. The horse in question is the stallion Gojo’s been daydreaming off. His father’s grand large stead, that mane that shivered like sliver and rode like a boat on calm seas. Geto took the macaroon with maybe a little too confidence as he approached the stead. “It’s a rare treat. You shouldn’t give it to them too often. Or else in that one’s case, it gets overweight.” Geto held out the treat to the white stallion which took it happily. Geto turns his back to it. Big mistake.
The horse bites down on Getos hair and yanks him a bit before letting go. Geto scrambled away holding his head gasping in surprise. Gojo howls in laughter as Geto turns bright red in embarrassment. Well played he could only think as he fixes his hair trying to reclaim the lost pride. “That was dangerous. What if it bit down on my head?! That would been deadly.” Gojo doesn’t respond just yet because he’s savouring it, the look, the memory. Tastes like that ripe fruit Geto looked to be.
Interesting.
“Relax, it didn’t.” Gojo pets the black stallion while facing Geto as if showing who was truly the horse expert. But as luck had it he accidentally poked it in the eye the horse bulking in distress. Gojo yelped scrambling away just like Geto did as the creature huffed absolutely pissed off. Geto and Gojo stood there in silence realising they might be on the same page when it comes to catering to horses. Then.
Geto starts laughing at the stupidity of watching a prince scramble away yelping like a frightened dog. Gojo blinks then laughs mostly from adrenaline then humour. But both of them are cut off by a shouting voice from who knows god where. Geto and Gojo immediately hightailing out of the stables already frightened enough by horses for today.