Veneer

Yozak Gurrier thought more than once Murata Ken would have made an excellent spy. The kiddo's friend had a knack for disappearing in plain sight. The Sage's quiet, unassuming manner nudged a person's attention away until he was completely forgotten. Tough to do when you were one of the only two black-haired, black-eyed, teenaged boys in the whole world.

To be fair, when they'd first met, the Sage had been blond and blue-eyed. Then somewhere between Caloria and the outskirts of Lesser Shimeron, the boy had become less goofy and changed his eye color. Though the change was drastic, Yozak had found him easier to ignore. It wasn't until he was deprived of the kiddo's stronger, more vibrant personality had Yozak even found out the other boy's name.

"Who are you?"

"Now I'm Murata Ken."

And, of course, much more than that.

From that point on, Yozak did his best not to let His Highness slip from sight. At least, not while he was around. Stolen glances usually found the Sage looking back at him, and led to a sort of unspoken language. A simple glance spoke volumes, and served them well when dealing with a person like His Majesty the Maou Yuuri Shibuya.

"He did say not to keep secrets."

"This is just a prediction, though."

"My, my. Trying to keep up appearances?"

His efforts gained him Murata's respect, and in time his trust. Eventually, Yozak found himself returning both.

But Gurriers were curious creatures and always had been. The sole surviving member of the family proudly carried on the tradition. He wanted to discover what lay behind the tolerant, humoring smile and the light that reflected off those glasses.

--+--

"Yozak?"

The redhead glanced down from his tree branch lookout, spotting black hair in between the leaves. "Afternoon, Highness," he called. Surveying the scene in the courtyard, Yozak decided the kiddo would be safe enough with Conrad and they could manage without him for a while. He jumped down, bringing a shower of green with him. He smiled at Murata. "What can I do for you?"

An impish smile flitted across the Sage's lips. "I'd like your opinion on something."

Yozak shook a few small sticks and some leaves out of his hair, and tilted his head to the side. "Oh yeah? What about?"

"Well," Murata began and pulled a shoe from behind his back. "I was wondering if you knew which maid wears a size fourteen heel in this particular shade."

There were five, maybe six, times in his life when Yozak's face turned the curdled-milk pale it did at that moment. To his credit, on this, the seventh occasion, the redhead managed to not babble like the idiot he felt like. "Only one that I know of, Highness."

"Any idea what that maid would've been doing in my room?" The black-haired boy's expression betrayed nothing and Yozak's carefully compiled information on the Sage's mannerisms failed him. It seemed even Shin Makoku's greatest spy could not crack the veneer around Murata Ken.

Then, the boy smiled. "And why he didn't wake me to let me know he was there?"

"Well," Yozak managed, stunned by the turnaround and what it might mean. He gave up trying to explain, laughing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "That's a really good question." Murata offered him the shoe. "I was gonna come back and get it," Yozak said as he reached to accept it. "It's one of my favorites." On a chance, he let his fingers brush against the thinner, paler ones. Dark eyes widened, flicking down and then back up to meet his.

Yozak learned how that smile felt and tasted long before he learned what was behind it. But in a way, he preferred working in stages and gradually slid beneath the Sage's defenses, tricks and reservations.

That day he learned other things.