Chapter Text
The summons is heavy in Miyuki’s hand. It’s not the first time he’s received one, but he’s finally decided that it’ll be his last.
See, Miyuki’s used to this. Traveling alone on the road, that is.
However, his journey was always leading him away from home, rather than towards it. He can call it home now, after being away for so long.
As his horse trots through the forest, his mind inevitably wanders towards his destination. Not a place, but rather a person—namely, how Mei’s going to be so mad at him for waving off all his other summons. To be fair, Miyuki had valid reasons for most of them, but all of which kind of boiled down to ‘it’s too far and I’m busy’, because nothing would’ve placated Mei anyway.
Miyuki didn’t lose sleep over those ones. It’s the most recent few that’s worn him down—the one with the tear-stained parchment and the one with only two sentences. And in between then, Miyuki’s had to face what all of those letters meant head on, sometimes against his will.
That was really his own fault. He always thought crown princes greedy, but he was just as bad. He didn’t want to return on anyone else’s terms but his own, but it couldn’t be helped. Honestly, Miyuki did feel badly about taking so long. Mei would probably try to guess what finally changed his mind, but Miyuki would try his damn hardest not to tell, because that’d probably also just serve to piss Mei off.
Crown princes can be such a handful; it’s why Miyuki is so drawn to them. A bit of masochistic streak, perhaps, but that’s nothing new.
“They truly are a breed of their own, aren’t they?” Rei remarks with a wry smile. “I’m truly glad he won’t be the first you’ve dealt with.”
Miyuki thinks back to Mukai, to Amahisa, to Furuya. He can’t help but smirk, hiding it as he bows.
“I’m grateful for the opportunity. He really has zero formal training?”
“Late bloomer. He’s adopted, which had the people all up in arms until recently. But trust me, Crown Prince Sawamura’s enthusiasm and potential will be more than enough to make up for his late start,” says Rei, eyes gleaming.
Miyuki nods to himself as he looks up, mind already racing ahead.
“Alright. Just to be clear, you’re letting me run with this? Because he should know what that means.”
Rei’s smile upturns.
“He insisted, actually, after hearing about you and Furuya.”
Furuya was the furthest student he’s traveled for, the hardest challenge he’s faced to date. He was a crown prince with outstanding genes, but hadn’t found equal success in all his previous tutelages. Miyuki was summoned to help hone his potential and mold him to be worthy of the title.
A tall order, until he met Furuya in person. It’s hard to forget that first meeting, how Furuya’s face was utterly blank, the snow blowing all around him, wordless in his greeting.
By reputation alone, Furuya was indeed strong. Single-minded. That killer instinct of his would’ve scared any ordinary teacher away.
But Miyuki wasn’t ordinary, nor was he a mere sparring buddy. He was a knight who didn’t just lust after head-to-head battles, who wasn’t beneath trickery to reach victory. He wasn’t scared of Furuya hurting him; that’s how he gained Furuya’s trust in turn.
“Miyuki,” Furuya says shakily, “I don’t want to yield.”
“Then knock yourself out!” Miyuki declares, rolling off to the side, brushing dust off his trousers. “You can keep coming at me, but just look at yourself! Brute force won’t win you this battle today.”
Furuya pants into his dirty sleeve, clearly too tired to argue, but he’s staring Miyuki down all the same. He’s stubborn like that. He knows Miyuki gives good advice (that’s how he got hired in the first place), but was too green to take it from the onset.
Well, that’s just par for the course.
“You should take your studies seriously, Mei. You know that when you’re king, this will be your main job, right?”
Mei just blows a raspberry at him. Real mature. Miyuki sighs and slides another book his way.
This was a stupid waste of time. If none of Mei’s tutors could get him to focus, Miyuki certainly wasn’t going to be able to. If anything, they both just serve as giant distractions for one another. Today at least, for Miyuki’s part, he has something more important to do than entertaining Mei. He flips through the pile of papers in front of him, tracing through the battle formations on the page a little listlessly.
“Whatcha looking at?” Mei quips up, chin already resting on his shoulder.
“It’s a hypothetical. For the exam coming up.”
Mei doesn’t say anything, only tilts his head a little, but Miyuki gets it. There are no exams for royalty.
Regardless, Mei was good and he knew it. Miyuki was good too, but he still had to prove himself. That’s just how it was.
“I’d cut through here,” says Mei confidently, his finger following along Miyuki’s until it loops past towards the corner. “Then these troops should separate and meet…here. Lay in waiting for an ambush. What do you think, Kazuya?”
Kazuya hums reflexively, mulling over the proposal. This was what he and Mei did best. He’d have to apologize to Kunitomo later for distracting Mei, though Mei was quite good at doing that all on his own. Besides, this wasn’t just goofing off, and Mei does make a decent strategic point.
“It could work, but the terrain could be tricky…”
Any more detours than necessary would surely result in at least some stern words now that Mei knows he’s returning. Still, it would be poor manners to pass by certain places without paying his respects. At least he has a good excuse now if he ever needs to make a quick getaway.
Like if Crown Prince Mukai gets on his nerves—well, not like Miyuki really got along with him anyhow, but Miyuki did enjoy the company of his royal guard, who were all well trained in both the way of the sword and the way of their prince’s eccentricities.
Sanada, on the other hand, Miyuki often forgot wasn’t actually the crown prince, but he basically doubled as one with how often he sat in on Todoroki’s lessons. Despite Yakushi’s volatility, Miyuki did like it there; he wouldn’t have stayed so long otherwise. There was an electrifying energy on and off their grounds that drew Miyuki in, far different from the mutual unspoken respect he had felt when he taught You Shoushin for a short time.
No, he and Sanada were rascals, flirting with royalty, and they both knew it. In Sanada’s company, he never had to hide.
“I last heard you were going to stay put at Seidou,” Sanada says casually, showing Miyuki to his room.
It gives Miyuki pause thinking of how the news had traveled, whispers of how none of the kingdoms before him had managed to accomplish the feat of a repeat term, which had spiraled somehow into forever in the rumour mill.
“Yeah, well. Homecoming calls,” he answers with a shrug.
Sanada leans against the doorframe, his expression faux-thoughtful.
“Sounds like you’ve figured a lot out since your days with us at Yakushi, hm?”
Miyuki sets his bags down, tight-lipped. He’s glad it’s Sanada here right now and not Todoroki, who was far too earnest to lead a nation and would’ve asked him the question outright. Frankly, he should start practicing his response now.
“It wasn’t anything new, just reminders,” responds Miyuki. “Mind closing the door? I’ll change and then come say hello to everyone.”
The corner of Sanada’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, hand reaching towards the knob as he looks past his shoulder.
“Mei?”
The whispers around them only get louder, and Miyuki inwardly curses.
Fact is, he hadn’t addressed Mei properly in years. Even then, it was only ever to make a point or because he was in a place where he couldn’t afford not to, one-offs in places where he didn’t feel himself.
Here, seeing him out of nowhere in Seidou of all places—it threw him. He would always be Mei to Miyuki, but he had grown, and Miyuki couldn’t take it all in fast enough.
The name slipped out. Like muscle memory, like nostalgia.
Mei starts striding towards him, filled to the brim with confidence, picture perfect.
Well, he should be. He’s the crown prince of the largest, most powerful kingdom on the continent, and there are four knights standing behind him within arm’s reach to cut Miyuki down if he tried anything untoward.
“Kazuya. You were supposed to come home. Why haven’t you?”
Stunned at the line of questioning, Miyuki finds his mouth utterly dry. Mei hadn’t said anything to him about coming to Seidou. He couldn’t be here for him, could be?
“You…what?” He clears his throat, gathering himself best he could. “Your letters—"
“Summons,” Mei cuts him off, folding his arms.
“Right. I told you I needed time.”
“And I’ve given it, plenty, in fact.”
“C’mon.” Miyuki lowers his voice, knowing every word is pushing a boundary he can’t even see in the horizon anymore. “I don’t answer to you. I wouldn’t be here if I did.”
“Right, so come back, Kazuya. You must’ve gotten what you wanted all these years already.”
Sure. Who he’s become would’ve been more than enough to justify a homecoming, but Mei’s wrong about the latter. What he wants—it’s not something so easily gotten, nor earned, but it doesn’t mean Miyuki hasn’t been trying all this time anyway. In fact, he’s made it extra hard for himself by getting on Mei’s bad side and leaving.
Not that he could say that, not now. Especially not with Sawamura so close, no doubt making the most unprofessional faces next to him (they’ll have to chat about that later). Mei didn’t seem to care who he was with, however, nor that the townspeople were gawking at them like they were an alien race.
“I’m not sure that I have. You’ll have to excuse my rudeness, your highness,” Miyuki says, carefully measured.
With that, Mei bursts out laughing, seemingly ignorant to the shocked faces around him.
“As if you ever cared about being rude a day in your life. Alright, alright. I get it.” He throws a discontented look behind him. “Fine, Crown Prince Sawamura, let’s go.”
Sawamura makes a strangled noise next to Miyuki, jabbing himself multiple times in the chest like he couldn’t believe it. “M-me???”
“Yeah, who else? I actually came here to talk to you about something.”
Miyuki lets go of a tightly held breath, his stomach still uneasy.
He’s a knight, but here, he’s also Sawamura’s teacher. Normally that would mean he should let the knights lying in wait escort Sawamura with his guest to somewhere far more private. However, he ends up following them wordlessly. He’s thankful that Mei doesn’t even look back once, having turned on royalty mode the moment his attention switched to official business.
And there Miyuki was, staring at the steady line of Mei’s shoulders, how the tips of his hair flickered like rays of sunlight even with the clouds coming in, how he still wore no crown.
“Why knighting? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you never struck me as terribly chivalrous.”
Letting out a low whistle, Miyuki turns away from Mei and towards the sky.
“Ouch! Don’t say that like I haven’t bailed your ass out numerous times before.”
“That’s so beside the point, Kazuya. You could’ve done anything. Why this?”
Miyuki shrugs, his shoulders tense against the grass. 'Anything' sure was a choice of words. His father was a blacksmith and it would’ve been simple to follow his tracks, but Miyuki never found making someone else’s gear and weapons interesting.
No. He wanted to wield the weapon. Be the weapon.
“Not that many options when you’re not born into royalty and you want to use your head and your body at the same time,” Miyuki replies briskly.
“You chose knighting because you found everything else boring? No one else would be so crazy to put their head on the line for no reason at all,” Mei rebuts, not that he sounds mad or anything. In fact, he sounds rather thrilled.
It’s a fair point. Most kids go into knighting because of their families, a sense of honour or duty or because it pays well for the risk you take on. Miyuki didn’t have any of that. He simply joined the class because he wanted to and became good enough to carve out a spot for himself permanently.
“I guess that’s me. You like my crazy though, Mei.”
He says that in jest, but Miyuki knows how to play the game too. Knighting was dangerous, but it was the best and most rational path for him, one he could twist it to suit his goals. The lesson he took from his dad’s business was to be an equal opportunity offender. Keep his options open, make himself indispensable, so much so that they’d doubt his loyalty but still let him keep his head.
In response, Mei teasingly punches him in the shoulder, and it reminds Miyuki how Mei unwittingly formed the crux of his life’s plan. Miyuki knew he couldn’t push it forever. He had to take a leap, and soon, but it was getting harder and harder the more Mei asked him to stay by his side.
“What do you think characterizes a knight, then? If you don’t think I got that magic factor?” Miyuki questions, turning back to face Mei.
Mei shuffles, his grin disappearing halfway into the blades of grass.
“I don’t think it’s chivalry exactly either. It’s part of it, but I think it’s really your spirit, to stand and fight for what you believe in and having the skills to back it up. I’ve always believed good knights don’t just follow orders, but they live by the spirit of the order.”
“Mmhm,” Miyuki hums, non-committal. “So, is that your way of saying this new batch of trainees suck?”
Mei scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t deny it either.
“You’re too good at this,” Furuya mumbles, picking himself off the ground.
“Why, thank you!” Miyuki plays it up. “Been mulling over that counter for a while. I’m glad it proved effective, even towards you.”
Furuya’s frown deepens.
“It’s not fair that you always have something hiding up your sleeve, Miyuki.”
“Of course, I do,” Miyuki admonishes, grinning wide. “If I tell you all my secrets, then how will I defend my kingdom when you come for it?”
“You don’t have a kingdom,” Furuya states, matter-of-fact.
Miyuki’s smile falters. Then he readies his stance again, gesturing for Furuya to as well.
“And that’s the only reason I’m allowed to be here. Don’t you forget, Furuya.”
“They—Shirakawa, Carlos, they’re duty-bound to me. But Kazuya, you don’t owe us anything, you haven’t sworn anything—”
“Yeah, see, that is the thing. I don’t owe you anything,” Miyuki cuts him off, a sour taste at the back of his throat that he can’t swallow. “You can’t make me stay, Mei.”
Mei recoils, his face scrunched tight. His protests die in the wind and give form to something else instead.
“If that’s the case, then perhaps you should go. I can’t hold them off forever. If you’re not ready to swear fealty to me, then you really are just a liability, Kazuya.”
Miyuki nods, body on autopilot.
He knew this day would come for him, as certain as he knew that it’d be Mei who would be delivering him the news rather than another knight or assassin. It wasn’t fair to Mei anyway, to continue covering for him when Miyuki was no one worth covering for. He was kind of an ass for letting him for so long, but he knew that too. After tasting how it’d feel despite his better judgment, he knew he would miss this after all.
“I’ll be gone by sunset tomorrow,” Miyuki says, the hardest he’s ever pushed on the topic. “Would that be amenable, your highness?”
Mei’s face hardens further, hands fisted by his sides. He looks up at Miyuki, jaw firm.
“You’re right that I can’t make you stay. So, when you choose to come back, swear to me it’ll be forever.”
“…you’ll have to ask me that again, Mei, if I return.”
Their eyes meet, and it’s Mei who breaks it off, shaking his head. His gaze falls to the ground, a choked incredulous laugh tumbling out before he peers up, eyes wet.
“Why do I even put up with you, Kazuya?”
“One more day,” Miyuki murmurs softly, the allure too much to resist.
He’s never gotten this far before. The masochist in him wants Mei to hear him and take it all back, to shove him down and kiss him senseless.
So, Miyuki pushes, because he has to know.
“You think you can survive it?”
For the first time, and potentially the last, Mei lets him, and folds.
“Not to say that’d be your style at all. Crown Prince Narumiya’s always been like that, actually, but don’t let him know I told you.”
“…King,” Sawamura utters, glancing up with wide, slightly watery eyes.
“Come again?”
“King,” Sawamura repeats, clearing his throat. His voice sounds all wrong, straightened up and muted, even worse than when he’s on duty. Hand limp by his side, it’s evident the letter had shaken him.
“It’s King Narumiya now. His Majesty passed away last week. We just got the news.”
Miyuki’s first thought is that he should react better, shed a tear or two. The king—late king of Inashiro was a firm and kind ruler; Miyuki would know more than most. Except it all feels so far away, surreal in the worst way.
It hits him then, the last summons still tucked away in his drawer. How Mei had asked for him to return again, as he always does, but the tone felt more serious this time, so much so that Miyuki hadn’t figured out how to respond yet.
Then this.
“I see,” he replies quietly.
“Do you…I can clear your schedule, if you need to leave quickly—”
“No,” Miyuki cuts him off, squeezing his eyes shut.
That’s not what he needs right now, and as much as Mei thinks he knows, that’s definitely not what Mei needs either.
“I’ll finish my term.”
“Miyuki,” Sawamura says, his tone shaky as he rubs at his left eye, then his right. It really doesn’t suit him at all. It’s also bad for his eyesight; he should know. “Your second term doesn’t end for another year.”
“What’s your point, Sawamura?”
“You really are avoiding him. Inashiro’s crown prince. I mean, the king,” Sawamura babbles on, forehead all scrunched up. At least he’s stopped crying.
“I’m not avoiding him. I’m just committed to seeing Seidou through this tumultuous time, especially now. You should be overjoyed at my sense of commitment and responsibility, idiot,” Miyuki retorts, flicking him on the forehead.
Sawamura winces, then folds up the piece of parchment, looking horribly unconvinced. He’s never had a good poker face, and despite Miyuki’s extensive repertoire, that doesn’t seem primed to change anytime soon.
Before he gets a chance to respond, Mei sends him another. It doesn’t ask for him this time.
I miss him. More deeply than I’ve ever missed anybody. More than my sisters, even more than you. Because he’s never coming back, and I don’t know what to do about that.
I don’t know how to do this without him. I’ve grown up strong and smart and loved, but none of that prepares you to truly run a country all alone. No matter what mom says, I’m all alone.
Kazuya. I miss him. Tell me how to make it stop hurting. Tell me. Please.
He and Mei had, by all accounts and purposes, grown up together. Miyuki could recall when their heights had finally started diverging for the better, when they stopped sneaking around and sharing a bed, when he had consciously shifted to walking behind Mei rather than beside him.
He remembers all the times Mei had cried on his shoulder, and how he’s grown to know less and less what to say with age. Smiles turned sharper, grips rougher, gold brighter, never tarnished, how he hated that he noticed.
The distinctive manner of his walk, spine proper and tall. The well-read intellectual comments interspersed between teasing remarks. His offhanded and inconceivable generosity.
The gaps in their battle scars, invisible on Mei’s warm skin.
And with each step Mei continued to take, it stood to be Miyuki’s last misstep. Yet he couldn’t help himself from daring, from mouthing off or crossing swords, each bait too tantalizing to give up.
He rose, and rose, and rose, until one day, he slams the door.
“Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” The words explode out of him—like poison gas, it’s suicidal—but Mei doesn’t seem to take offence at all.
“Because, you don’t really want me to, Kazuya,” he replies, nonchalant.
“I…I want…what I want—” Miyuki stutters in disbelief. His fists are loose and weak when he collapses against the cold brick wall. It’s a damning thing, to want.
“It’s been years. You’re still here. Aren’t you tired of me yet?”
“I could never tire of you, Kazuya,” Mei says frankly, nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why would you ask me that?”
It’s so genuine and terrible that Miyuki forgets to rehearse before he speaks. He was never supposed to tell Mei like this.
“Because until you do, I can’t leave.”
“You know that he likes you, right?” Sawamura asks, dumbfounded.
Miyuki takes in the statement, wraps it around himself like an exposed wound. It’s an awful one, because Sawamura had no doubt known about Mei for years, maybe even met him a few times, but he would’ve never heard about Miyuki from Mei before today. Miyuki had built his own reputation up slowly, a steady string of crown princes to his name, but Mei had never been one of them.
He hadn’t needed to, and he hadn’t wanted to. Miyuki doesn’t think he’d take credit anyway, not that Mei would’ve minded.
But here Sawamura was, having been witness to one lone conversation, and god knows whatever the hell else Mei said to him in private, and he just knew he wasn’t leaving this conversation unscathed.
He nods numbly.
“Yeah, I know.”