Chapter Text
Once upon a time
In a faraway land,
There was a tiny kingdom called Yokohama—
In a stately chateau, there lived it's owner of uncanny background and cruel disposition, along with his ward, who was somehow even stranger, with his pallid complexion and dark, emotionless eyes.
Together, they lived in harmony, as only those in a kingdom like Yokohama could.
But despite the vast estates, spacious chambers, and seemingly never-ending gardens, there was scarcely any sign at all that another lived in the house as well...
Nakajima Atsushi had been dreaming. Of sunny smiles and hazy hopes. As he stirred awake, a faint smile crossed his lips. A rare, peaceful morning like this ought to be appreciated, after all.
“WERETIGER! REPORT TO MY CHAMBERS AT ONCE!”
“Ohh, little tiger! Come down!”
He stood corrected.
Still, Atsushi turned over in his bed. A few last moments to doze off never hurt anyone.
“I SAID, COME DOWN!”
He stood corrected once more.
Huffing softly, he hopped out of bed and began looking for his shoes. He found a pair beneath the bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, slipped them on. Atsushi was used to spiders. The attic above the stairs was full of them, after all, and that was where he slept.
A gentle knock sounded at the door before a tall, orange-haired boy stepped inside, clutching a broom and wearing a slightly nervous smile.
“Good morning, Atsushi-kun! You ought to make haste before your step-father shatters everyone's eardrums again,” said Junichirou Tanizaki, one of Atsushi's best friends and a fellow attendant, as he began sweeping dust from the attic floor.
He—and Atsushi's other closest friend, Kenji Miyazawa, the gardener—were kind in that way. They always made sure Atsushi was taken care of while he spent his days tending to the rest of the house.
“I know, I know. I'm going.” Atsushi sighed. “But you'd be quite indignant to wake up too if you had the dream I did.”
“Oh? And what kind of dream was that?”
“Can't tell,” Atsushi replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “If you tell a wish, it won't come true, after all.”
Tanizaki gave him an exasperated look.
Atsushi chuckled and made his way down the stairs, humming to himself.
“Perhaps one day, the dreams that I wish for will come true”
The boy's name was Nakajima Atsushi.
He was eighteen years old and lived in the house with his mean step-father and step-brother.
They treated Atsushi very poorly.
“ARE YOU STILL NOT DONE WITH THE CLEANING?! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A PARASITE ON THIS HOUSEHOLD!” screeched Shibusawa, Atsushi's step-father.
Atsushi sighed.
“I have finished cleaning, and you were the first person I told. But you promptly went back to bed upon calling me and were so deep in your slumbers, it was as if you were resurrected from the dead with no memories of my words at all.”
“Don't be ridiculous, child. Who on earth would simply forget that they are dead?”
Atsushi shrugged.
“Pah! Well, if you insist you're done with the cleaning, then check that the garden bushes have been pruned. I don't trust that airhead of a gardener in the slightest,” Shibusawa sniffed.
Atsushi stiffened at the remark but said nothing. He offered a rigid bow before turning and leaving.
Perched high atop a windswept hill stood a grand castle, its towering spires cutting into the sky like jagged crowns.
From one of its many windows, a crown suddenly went flying out, bursting through the glass with impressive enthusiasm.
Standing behind the now very unfortunate window was His Royal Highness, King Doppo Kunikida.
“Enough! That bastard has avoided his responsibilities for long enough! It's high time he settled down and took on the throne!” he seethed, banging his fist on a nearby table.
The Grand Duke, Ango Sakaguchi, sighed as he peeked out from behind the large chaise he had been hiding behind.
He discreetly gestured to a nearby servant to retrieve another crown from the treasury.
The king had already hurled three out the window that very day, courtesy of the prince's antics.
The extravagant room they occupied had seen better days. Chairs lay overturned, papers were scattered like fallen leaves, and expensive ornaments had been knocked askew, as though some great beast had run amok within the room.
“Of course, Your Majesty. But for one as rebellious as Dazai-kun, I believe patience would be most useful to—”
“PATIENCE? I've been nothing but patient!” King Kunikida huffed, taking off his glasses as he rubbed his face tiredly. “You may have endeared yourself to him, Ango, but there's only so much trifling a man can take.”
“In any event, I have been burned far too often because of how he does things. I have found myself stuck on the chandeliers for hours, been forced to pull him out of giant vases he somehow gets stuck in, and even once had to cancel an important meeting after he tried to jump out of a window.”
Ango winced.
“I understand your dilemma, my king. Perhaps you should consider hitting him with a hammer the next time he says something egregious. That's what I would do.”
“Now, that's not a bad idea,” Kunikida perked up a little.
He paused.
“Nevertheless, I have a plan. I will no longer allow him to squander the good name of our predecessor and the members of this court. He must take the crown once and for all.”
“What were you thinking?” Ango asked, nonplussed.
“We throw a ball.”
“A ball?”
“Yes. A coronation ball, to commemorate his official rise to kingship, and it shall take place in front of all of Yokohama! I'd like to see him try to escape his duties when everybody in the kingdom will bear witness to the man who will answer to their woes. I need you to make the preparations at once.”
“A peculiar idea, sire. I shall make the arrangements right away.”
Ango bowed and left the room.
But not necessarily a bad one, he thought to himself.
Prince Osamu Dazai, though a close friend of his, was certainly not without fault. He was shrewd, with an impressive list of achievements under which Yokohama had prospered, yet simultaneously a complete ne'er-do-well who nefariously avoided responsibility whenever he could.
An official coronation ball in his honor would certainly be intriguing.
But would it actually convince Dazai to forego his careless ways?
Only time would tell.
“FOOLISH WERETIGER! JUST YOU WAIT! I SHALL BEST YOU IN BATTLE ONE DAY!”
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa sneered haughtily at Atsushi as he towered over him, one foot planted firmly on his head. Atsushi, by years of experience, simply remained beneath his foot in disgruntled silence.
"I will remember this", he thought resentfully.
He neither knew what “battle” his step-brother was always prattling on about nor why he insisted on calling Atsushi a “weretiger.” As far as he was concerned, he was entirely human.
“Ohh, Ryūnosuke!” A voice sang from below the staircase. “I come bearing wonderful news!”
“Coming,” Akutagawa sniffed.
“And WHERE'S ATSUSHI?! THE STAIRS ARE STILL DUSTY!”
“Coming,” Atsushi grumbled.
As they descended the stairs, they were met with an ecstatic Shibusawa, brandishing an ornate invitation with considerable flourish. “A grand ball shall be held in honor of the prince's crowning. All citizens of the kingdom are formally summoned to attend the celebration and bear witness to the occasion!” Shibusawa read.
Atsushi and Akutagawa gasped in unison.
Shibusawa neatly folded the invitation before turning toward them, a smug grin playing across her lips.
“My child, you understand how imperative this night is for us, do you not? We have a reputation to uphold, and a royal family to ingratiate ourselves with.”
“Indeed. I must make myself presentable for Dazai-san,” Akutagawa declared eagerly.
“Yes, of course,” Shibusawa replied with a smile. “Though that is hardly a proper way to address the prince.”
“But this means I can attend as well!” Atsushi exclaimed.
Shibusawa and Akutagawa stared at him.
Then promptly cackled.
“You? Don't be ridiculous. You have work to do here, not time to waste at a ball.”
“Hmph. As if Dazai-san would ever acknowledge someone like you.”
“I told you not to call him that.”
“But—”
“Not a chance, little tiger. Run along and complete your duties.”
“I am still a part of this family. You cannot make me—”
“You will remember your place,” Shibusawa snapped coldly. “You are not, and never will be, part of this family. You are a disgrace—a bastard—and I will not have you showing your face before the royal court. You will stay here. No more questions.”
Before long, his step-family had departed together, leaving Atsushi behind.
In truth, it wasn't surprising.
He had no elegant clothes, no jewels, no carriage—nothing suitable for such an event.
Still, he couldn't help but feel sorry for himself.
“I really thought... maybe this time...” Atsushi murmured, curled up beside the attic window, his voice heavy with disappointment. “But I should've known better.”
Kenji, who had been watching the heavy exchange from the gardens and had followed him as he fled to his room, looked at him with sad eyes.
“Oh, don't say that, Atsushi-kun. You never know how things might turn out.”
A second figure stepped in behind him, carrying a small bundle of linens.
“He's right, you know,” Tanizaki added softly. “It's only one night. It doesn't decide everything.”
“It feels like it does,” Atsushi replied, not looking at either of them.
Kenji exchanged a glance with Tanizaki before sighing lightly and wrapping his arms around Atsushi.
“Well... even so, sulking up here won't do you any favors. Whether in a town or a village, whether toward a cow or a person... If you're sincere toward others, they'll respond in kind. That approach has yet to fail me. Cruel as your family can be, I have faith that it will all work out for you one day.”
“And besides,” Tanizaki chimed in with a faint smile, “you deserve far better than how they treat you. Ball or no ball.”
Atsushi hesitated before giving a small nod.
“...Thanks. Both of you.”
“Anytime,” Kenji said warmly, giving Atsushi another squeeze.
“But I'd really like to be alone right now.”
Their smiles faded, and they exchanged a quick, worried glance.
“Alright, then. We'll leave you be,” Tanizaki conceded reluctantly, setting the linens aside before turning to go.
“Just... try not to lose hope, alright?”
“Of course not,” Atsushi said, feigning a smile.
The moment they were gone—having silently agreed to wait just outside in the hall, just in case—Atsushi sank back against the window.
Drawing in a shaky breath, he brushed the hot tears from his cheeks, refusing to let them fall any further.
It just wasn't fair.
He hadn't asked for any of this.
He hadn't asked to be here, to be treated as though he were less than nothing, to be told over and over that he didn't belong.
Why did he keep hoping?
Why did he keep wishing that, somehow, something would change?
Eighteen years of despair and doomed futures.
Eighteen years of foolish dreams.
He could see the truth now.
It was no use.
He couldn't believe.
Not anymore.
There was nothing left to believe in.
As if stirred by his sorrow, a sudden, brilliant flash of light flooded the room, chasing away every shadow in an instant and leaving the air shimmering in its wake.