Merlin’s name wasn’t actually Merlin, at least not to some people. At the palace he was Kenta Kenjiya. (In Kuroba where the last name is recited first, it would be Kenjiya Kenta). He was the one and only.
“You actually took your days of leniency off!” the prince exclaimed with foolhardy excitement as he plopped onto a sofa in the lounge and disgracefully kicked off his slippers. Kenta, as Merlin would be called within the palace, was sitting on that exact same sofa so it was quite uncomfortable.
“Please lower your legs,” Kenta said. He was eyeing the pink flesh of the prince’s exposed toes in disgust as he said this.
“Where’d you go?” the prince asked, ignoring him. “Did you finally get yourself a girlfriend?” Then he gasped, jumping into a proper sitting position, body leaning forwards towards Kenta. He was ignoring the fact that Kenta was busy filing paperwork that the prince should have finished two days ago. “Is it that girl!?” the prince asked.
“Which one?”
The prince gasped once more, this time, more genuine.
Kenta risked a sideways glance and broke his serious mask with a smirk. “I’m kidding.” He set the paperwork down and folded his arms, turning his full body towards the prince. “You were spying on me instead of doing your work again, weren’t you?”
“No,” but the prince wasn’t even trying to hide his widening grin.
Kenta scoffed. “When I’m around, you run off to play with girls or frolic in the woods with your bow and arrows. When I’m not around, you go poking your nose looking for me.” Kenta shook his head. “I don’t understand you.”
“Well I understand you.” The prince leaned in, forcing Kenta to lean back. A lock of the prince’s raven-black hair fell over his eye, casting a shadow over the prince’s playful expression like a limp, squid-ink noodle.
“Listen up, future shogun,” chortled the prince.
Kenta sighed and folded his arms.
At Kenta’s unimpressed expression, the prince’s stern brows furrowed deeper. “You’re better than any of the shogun’s real sons, so get used to these speeches of mine,” scolded the prince as if he weren’t acting like a child earlier.
When he spoke of the shogun’s current sons, the prince was referring to the sons of the current head of the Kenjiya family. The Kenjiya family shogun, bearing the symbol of a sword and snake, was one of two shogunates appointed by the crown. The title of the shogun was passed down each generation in the family to the succeeding head of the family. The shogun was generally the eldest son, but the title favored whoever wielded their weapon the best. Although adopted, and not a blood relative to the shogun, Kenta was a likely candidate.
The prince rolled his eyes at Kenta’s disapproving stare. “Okay, if not the shogun, then Wannabe Apprentice.”
Kenta’s frown deepened. “When did I ever say I wanted to be an apprentice?
The prince huffed. “Ever since you caught my mother’s attention, she’s been plotting your career as a scholar. Your statement on the economic decline in Hikizu village was phenomenal,” the prince simpered.
Kenta fell back against the hood of the couch. “Is that so?”
“Well, you’ve also written all the other things that I was supposed to write,” the prince added.
“Then why are you sulking as if it were my fault?” demanded Kenta as he began picking at the stack of paper before him.
The prince wrapped an arm around Kenta’s shoulder. “Because I get sad when all my friend does is work like a robot.” He shed a fake tear. “So sad.”
“As your bodyguard,” Kenta said with emphasis as he removed the prince’s arm from around his shoulders. “What I find most sad is the fact that you still think I’m here because I want to.”
The prince poked him playfully, wiggling his eyebrows. “You didn’t deny being my friend!”
Kenta grimaced. “You know what, your highness?” He picked up the stack of paperwork and placed it on the prince’s lap. “You can think whatever you want as long as you let me do my job,” he stood up, “and you do yours.”
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Prince Saihi, his full name being Saihi Seihi, wasn’t always a lazy jerk. Or so Kenta’s fuzzy memories claimed it to be. His brain tended to retain random moments rather than important qualities, like the fact that the prince and Kenta had first bonded over their aspiration to become pirates. It wasn’t their aspiration when they had first met; the prince was already sixteen years old and Kenta was thirteen, but when their conversation rounded to the past, the prince asked Kenta if he would be his best mate. Kenta had said, “yes”.
Now Kenta was having second thoughts about that simple vow. Saihi was turning into his worst princely self. Between skipping board meetings and partying all night, even when the prince was becoming twenty-one this year, he still acted like a wild runt.
Leaving the prince alone in the parlor except for the dozen bodyguards stationed around that very room, Kenta headed towards the training room to practice his sword. A pair of maids passed him, heads bent, whispering. Kenta could make out the words “his highness”, “celebration”, and “gay”. Kenta felt his temples throb. Kenta had been trying to forget the one rumor that spun within the palace. The rumor that the prince liked men.
Kenta personally had nothing against the idea of the prince pursuing that sort of relationship. But he did not like how the rumors involved himself. Nor did he like the fact that the queen had personally requested him to her side just to tell him to watch over the prince to make sure he fell in love with a respectable woman. To Kenta’s great annoyance, the queen had performed an excellent speech over the prince’s responsibilities to producing the next crown heir. Finding a wife for the crown prince shouldn’t be the responsibility of a samurai.
Kenta hurried away into the courtyard and drew a wooden sword that he’d picked from the training bin. He’ll practice his swing and forget all nonsense.
Unwittingly, Kenta’s mind wandered to the prince’s upcoming birthday celebration next week. He wondered if Odilia would show up at all. Unlikely, he thought, since she’d just have left for home. Kenta paused midswing. What did Odilia’s attendance mean to him anyways?
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On the day of the prince’s birthday banquet, the palace walls were full of noise, but to Kenta’s satisfaction, the prince wasn’t the one creating all the ruckus.
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Kenta took his position standing besides the prince as his bodyguard, and risked a glance towards Prince Saihi. Sitting on plush cushions in ceremonial silks and heavy fabrics, Kenta chuckled to himself when he noticed what might have kept the prince tame: a bottle of white rice soju hidden in the folds of the prince’s garments.
A couple yard spans worth of visitors stood waiting in line to greet the royal prince on his birthday and Kenta watched from beside as Saihi occasionally waved his hand in drunken bemusement, which was luckily seen by most, as royal acknowledgement.
“Hey.” Saihi motioned for Kenta after their previous visitor left in a multitude of continuous bows. The other four guards that stood alongside the prince stepped forwards to block the oncoming crowd, noticing that their prince would like a moment with his right-hand man. Kenta lowered his torso to the side to lend Saihi an ear.
“Yes, your highness?” he tried to contain a nagging irritation as this day belonged to the prince.
Saihi waved a hand in front of his face as if swatting at a fly and squinted at nowhere in particular. He was so clearly drunk. Kenta only hoped people mistook the pink of the prince’s cheeks as warmth from the daytime heat. “Listen,” the prince whispered. “When Mother comes, you greet her in my stead.” When Kenta began to shake his head, the prince added, “I can’t feel my legs.”
Kenta grimaced and whispered back, “I still can’t do that for you.” Kenta motioned for a nearby servant and asked for water to be brought. “Continue smiling and sober up enough to greet her majesty.”
Saihi rolled his eyes and sulked. “Party pooper.” Kenta ignored him and went back to an upwards position, facing the grand outdoor courtyard where guests of every class streamed in wearing their best clothes. His eyes just happened to land on Odilia as she and Emiko walked through the ornamental gates.
Emiko noticed Kenta watching them in the distance first, and waved. Kenta didn’t think it appropriate to wave at someone in the crowds while on guard-duty, so he plastered on his best professional smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace, as Emiko led Odilia through the sea of visitors. They didn’t get very far because halfway through the line, angry voices arose towards the two girls for cutting between the procession of visitors hoping to greet the prince.
Kenta hoped he wasn’t cringing when Odilia leaned over and whispered to Emiko who now seemed to notice the prince sitting beside their friend. Emiko’s eyes looked for Kenta’s and met. He could feel his cheeks growing hot. He hadn’t told them in what position he worked for the prince. He found himself avoiding Odilia’s yellow hued irises when she looked up at him. Odilia led Emiko back to the end of the line.
With the endless amount of visitors, the line may have been a thirty minute long wait, but soon Kenta found himself before Emiko and Odilia. Odilia wore an orange colored kimono that depicted koi fish and waves that looked like bursts of sunlight. Emiko’s was similar, but instead of fish, her kimono had flowers. The clothing depicting suns was fitting in that it celebrated the birth of the sun of Kuroba, the crown prince. Emiko and Odilia bowed and presented wrapped gifts to the sobering prince. Emiko didn’t even glance at Kenta while leaving but Odilia’s yellow eyes caught Kenta’s before she descended down the steps. A pitless feeling that Kenta couldn’t make out entered his stomach.
Kenta didn’t have time to process this newfound unease because suddenly, the great big doors of the inner palace burst open and grand music sounded as a procession emerged.
The empress’s ladies in waiting, daughters of the daimyo and shogunates of Kuroba, emerged in rows of silk and paper fans. Following them were the small children of the palace officials throwing flower petals in tune to the orchestra music which changed to the beat of the grand procession. Then loud trumpets and drums began to sound as two figures appeared at the center of the rectangular doorway.
Hanan and Katsumi were the prince’s two cousins, twin daughters to the queen’s dead sister. They treated the palace as if it were their own. Not in the childish way of wielding the palace wealth as they pleased; although they did it often, but in the way that the servants would take their words as those of royalty.
And the twins were old. Not in the way that they grew wrinkles, but old for their time as marriageable women as they’d last celebrated their twenty-ninth birthday. Kenta suspected by the hungry way they always looked at Saihi’s crown, that in the same way they treated the palace staff as their own, they wanted his throne too.
“Hanan! Katsumi!” The prince greeted them warmly with his arms outstretched. The twins politely bowed and presented their gifts, then fluttered away just as elegantly as they’d come with their fans shielding their faces. Kenta turned his head as trumpets and drums sounded their march once more. The queen entered.
“Can you stand?” Kenta whispered to the prince without turning.
“I’m up,” replied the prince. He sounded convincingly sober.
The empress smiled, her pearly whites gleaming as she glided towards them. She wore a kimono, red like the afternoon heat. Her black hair was twisted high and adorned with crowns. The entire room seemed to bend and flow with her movement, the hearts of the people pounding with each step from their beloved ruler. She was a powerful force, an empress respected for the prowess of leadership after her husband's untimely death.
She was the mother of the empire’s future emperor, but she’d also served as mother to this nation. Crowds fell before her, muttering thanks. Hands, commoner hands reached out, but the empress did not shy away and even looked into the people’s adoring eyes. The empress finally reached the prince’s perch.
Energy hung between mother and son. Then the empress’s red lips curled into a grin that matched Saihi’s. “Shall we talk?” No formal greeting was needed between family. They could not embrace like a normal son and mother, being that both were royalty and the entire kingdom was watching, but the prince moved to his mother’s side so that she could take his arm. “Wait.” The empress stopped mid-stride. “I forgot, I first wish for you to see my gift.”
The empress’s servants rushed forward with an adorned cart. Something awaited beneath a red, silk cloth. “Open it,” the empress urged.
Kenta watched as the prince inched forwards, then after checking to see his mother’s approval, tore the cloth off the cart like he were a little boy. A gasp echoed in a wave through the crowd, the first having come from the prince when the gift was revealed. A rifle of the newest model. The empress knew her son too well.
Saihi trailed his fingers against the fine model of cold metal and wood. “Mother-!” The prince coughed and stopped himself, pivoting so he was actually looking at the empress when he spoke. “Thank you, mother. I will use it well.”
The empress smiled and held out her arm. The prince took it as an invitation to have her hold on to him again and to begin a private conversation. The watching crowd slowly resumed their cycle. The orchestra played its calming melody, the servants walked their paths carrying appetizers, and the guests renewed their own conversations.
Kenta remained true to his duty. He was still watching the prince.
The prince looked as if he were following the empress rather than leading her as correct etiquette would instruct. No doubt Saihi’s mind was still lost to the rifle that sat waiting for him on the cart. The empress was saying something to him and he was nodding his head slowly.
The nodding stopped.
Kenta couldn’t see their expressions since both had their backs to him, but Saihi’s shoulders now looked tense. Saihi stepped away from his mother. The empress now took his hand, dropped it, then walked back to the center of the platform. Kenta watched as the empress turned to look back at her son. Saihi’s turned, jaw set. He followed, but Kenta could tell that the movement was with reluctance.
Trumpets blared once more and the crowd hushed. This time, the orchestra stopped their music also. The empress guided her elegant hands upwards and bestowed her son forwards. “Today,” she spoke. “We gather together to celebrate Prince Saihi Seihi’s twenty-first birthday.”
Kenta knew the empress liked to speak on her son’s behalf each year, but unlike the prince’s usual willowy gestures and easy grin, Saihi’s jaw was square and his brown eyes were set on a scene far away.
“This day not only celebrates the birth of my only son, but the birth of the son of this nation,” continued the empress. “And soon, we shall celebrate the birth of a new era…” The empress let her words hang as she turned to look at her son. Saihi’s lips were clamped in a tight smile. The empress looked back at the crowd. “I have decided that it is time to pass the crown. This nation requires a new figure to rule this land into prosperity. As the sun always sets, I believe with the prince’s twenty-first birthday, it is time for the sun to rise anew.”
Kenta now understood why the prince had grown board-stiff in a short span of time. The empress planned to make him emperor. This was no surprise since the prince had always known the crown would be his. Saihi had even anticipated it, so Kenta began to question what bothered Saihi when the queen continued.
“However, the sun shall not rise alone,” the empress’s voice echoed as she said, “A new empress shall come to take my place as mother of this nation to guide this country. Today we celebrate our prince, but in two weeks time, we shall celebrate the birth of a new empress and emperor of this nation.”
The crowd burst into cheer. Saihi looked green in his colorful kimono. Kenta almost felt bad for the prince. Almost. If the prince married, at least all the inappropriate rumors would disappear. Maybe he would even mature-up and take on his duties. Kenta glared at the prince’s back. He better take on his duties.
Saihi bid his farewells to the empress and she left in the reverse order that she came. Hanan and Katsuki left last, dark eyes pointing accusingly at the prince behind colorful fans. The empress's plans to crown the prince must have been news to them as well.
When they were all gone, the prince was alone before his audience. He smiled, his playful mischievous sort that he slipped on right before doing something Kenta did not like.
He spoke to the people, courtiers, all who can hear when he said this, “Shall we dance?”