A/N:

This story is set in the Edo period. I started this because Seijuro's backstory feels particularly fitting in a historical context, and well, I just wanted to challenge myself in writing his character, and something ambiguous but not-too-ambiguous-till-it's-confusing (which always seems to be my problem). Also, there'll be akamomo and kuromomo in this story, because I love those ships and they're also fitting in this historical context xP There will be a lot of psychology and angst (basically like every other drama about royalty out there) so be warned! Also, I tried to stick to Japanese history as much as possible but my forte is really more Korean or Chinese history. Do let me know if there are any inaccuracies!

*Note: Seijuro's mother died when he was much younger in the anime/manga if I'm not wrong, but in this story, she died when he was 13. This change is kinda necessary for the plot.

Planned to be a three-shot.

Genres: Psychology, angst, tragedy, romance(?), historical!AU

I. To Lose Himself (and Find Himself Again)

"She was like a midsummer night's dream. And even though dreams were unrealistic, I followed after her."

There was a young child, his scarlet tresses blazing and his red eyes piercing. He was standing in front of his father, whom all hailed as Emperor.

"Emperor, does Queen Mother mean nothing to you at all?" the child questioned with clenched fists and gritting teeth. His mother had had a breathtaking beauty—a smile that was reminiscent of spring and long red locks that flowed with the wind. All which was tarnished when she had caught a deadly illness. All the doctors had deemed her a hopeless case. And so, his father had deemed her a hopeless case too, and had deserted her in the isolation of her quarters. Eventually, she had died, sickly and lonely.

He recalled the deathlike pallor of her face and her trembling, blue lips before she took her last breath. He recalled her last wish.

Seijuro, no matter what happens, don't blame your father.

He wanted to, at least for her. But even when the nation had wept for the loss of their Empress, his father had never shown a single concern other than sending his subordinates to settle the funeral matters.

It's impossible after all, Queen Mother. I can't not blame him.

The king's face was impassive. His lips thinned into a firm, straight line.

All the king said was, "She is just but a woman. A dead one. Dying is an act of losing."

If she is a loser for dying, then when will you admit that you are a failure for not saving her, that you are a failure as both a father and husband, Emperor?

He continued, "What matters is the living and the winning. Because winning is everything in this world. The victors write history and the losers are wiped from it."

The Emperor's brown orbs bore into him, menacing and oppressive.

"I have more important things to do as the Emperor than to dwell over such trivialities. Rather than to ask me such a foolish question, I believe you should use your time more wisely on studying or sharpening your sword skills. It's disappointing that you display yourself in such a pathetic manner, Crown Prince."

There was no room for objection with how authoritative his tone was.

The prince's eyes grew sore. He swallowed the lump that had formed on his throat, and the liquid which was threatening to pool out from his eyes. His fists were shaking, his tiny body convulsing from the force. But winners did not cry, no matter what.

So he held it in.

He nodded mechanically, face and neck numb.

"Yes… Emperor."

If emotions would brand him as a loser, then he would kill them all. Relentlessly and heartlessly. He would just cease to feel.

He was no longer Seijuro, but the Crown Prince and soon-to-be Emperor.

It was spring. The bushes and trees were a lush green, and cherry blossoms had bloomed, dotting the landscape of the East Gardens with pink. In the center of them all was a small pond, its water surface clearly reflecting whatever image lying upon it, including Seijuro's face.

The boy stared at his reflection for a while, taking in the sounds of chirping birds, the faint scent of the petals and the bitter flavour of water vapour. This was his mother's and also his favourite place. It had a sense of tranquility, free from gossip and noise, perfect for him to concentrate and play shogi.

Now, it would be perfect for him to cease thinking.

He shut his eyes, letting his soul blend into one with the environment.

"Are you sad?" a soft voice echoed, disrupting the silence.

Slowly, his eyelids were raised, letting a ray of sunlight penetrate his eyes. Standing amidst the light was a petite girl, her pink hair flowing in the wind. Her pink orbs were staring directly into his, with traces of what seemed to be curiosity and wonder.

Seijuro didn't really know her all that well. He only knew that her name was Momoi Satsuki, and she was the only daughter of the shogun, the top military commander of the nation. In a bid to maintain a close relationship with the shogun, the Emperor allowed the girl access to the royal premises. As a result, she became fairly close to the princes, namely Daiki. Momoi Satsuki was praised for her brightness, wit and beauty since young, but still, she was just a girl. She would never be able to take over the position her father held. Instead, she would probably be betrothed to one of the princes in royal family, most likely him.

To him, it didn't matter who she was exactly. As long as she was necessary to pave his path to victory, then he would remember her and make use of her well.

But that question… It had totally caught him off-guard.

Of course, he would not show that.

"Why would I be?" he questioned back, his red irises staring back at hers.

The pinkette tilted her head, asking innocently, "Why would you not be?"

She was avoiding the question. That was a sign of guilt. But the boy could not pick out any other traces of hesitation from the girl's face.

"The Empress has passed away. Dai-chan is actually angry, Sushi-chan doesn't feel like eating for once and even Shin-chan is sad, although he tries to act like he isn't. Even if she's not their birth mother," Satsuki continued, thoughtfully tapping her chin.

Right. The Empress was loved by all, even in the royal family. Despite having different mothers, all the princes had come to respect the Empress or even take a liking to her, because the Empress was benevolent to everyone regardless of race, age or gender. Still, she was just a female with no actual political power, and born as a commoner. That was perhaps why his father never saw her as an equal.

Seijuro never understood why his father insisted on their marriage despite that. Considering his father's personality and the unsaid rules of the royal family, Seijuro was sure he would wed one of royal descent or at least with a flashy family background. But he didn't, and in fact, he had suffered backlash for his actions.

Although the prince was curious, he never really got to know the details, mainly because his father had never divulged a single detail and his mother had always been enigmatic. Some speculated that this was an act out of true love, but how laughable the idea sounded.

"Crown Prince, you're a human," the girl said again, interrupting his train of thought.

"Of course. You are stating the obvious," the redhead curtly replied. Red clashed with pink, both studying the other. What were the intentions of the girl? Perhaps, she was scheming something. After all, he was the Crown Prince, and people only talked to him if they wanted something from him. Though, it was strange how there was no malice in her eyes.

"Humans should be sad when their mothers die. That's also obvious. But Crown Prince, you don't seem sad at all. Just… calm. That's way too peculiar," she noted, continuing to observe every part of his face.

He frowned. The way she scrutinised him so brazenly made him feel like he was a specimen to be inspected. Was she trying to source for his weaknesses so that she would use them to her advantage later on?

Well, she was not going to find any. He was the Crown Prince, Seijuro—always calm and collected, yet assertive. No one was going to spoil that image of his.

"Winners are not sad. Leave me alone this instance," the redhead stated, his tone as firm and solid as his father's. For a moment, his left eye turned into a vague tint of orange.

With that, he believed that the girl would be chased away. Everyone, even high-ranking officials, would back off after hearing that. But, all the girl did was let out a knowing smile, not the least perturbed.

Without a word, she walked off. The boy sighed in both relief and satisfaction. However, minutes later, the girl came skipping back, placing a peach rose on his palm. The stem was devoid of thorns.

Seijuro glanced up at the girl. She raised her index finger up her lips, as if signaling that she had been obedient. Her smile was reminiscent of spring.

As abruptly as she came, she left again.

Seijuro heaved a sharp breath and diverted his attention back to the lone peach flower.

"Queen Mother, you must love flowers a lot," Seijuro once remarked upon seeing how his mother was arranging flowers again. The queen only beamed, touching the petals of the flowers gently.

"They're beautiful, aren't they, Seijuro?"

"They are, but they'll eventually wither. I see no point in having them," he voiced out his true opinion. To him, flowers were just impractical things that people kept to comfort themselves that there was indeed beauty in this world. He wondered why his mother loved them so much, considering that she dealt with more meaningful arts.

"You are right. But that goes the same for life, Seijuro. Beautiful but fleeting," she pointed out, pausing momentarily as she held onto a peach rose.

She asked, "Do you see this peach rose?"

Seijuro nodded as a signal for her to continue. He examined the flower. It had a light tinge of soft peach, which was calming to see. But the stem had thorns.

Unfazed, the queen swiftly de-thorned the rose as she continued, "It symbolises sincerity, peace, purity and innocence. As long as it lives, it has this meaning, and we can use it to convey what we want to another person by passing this precious life to another. Isn't that wonderful?"

There were no longer thorns remaining on the stem. The queen passed the flower to the prince whose eyes widened slightly upon receiving it.

It was the first flower he received from anyone. And his heart swelled, keeping the feelings harboured inside the peach rose in mind.

Later on, his mother continued to ramble on about the meanings of other flowers. Seijuro patiently listened. Flowers were louder than words.

He smiled, nostalgia filling him.

Momoi Satsuki. She was unusual, but probably harmless.

"Crown Prince, want to play?"

It was summer. It was her again.

Well, she was pretty much always with the princes, but perhaps seeing her in a new light made him recognise her presence. He might have dismissed her initial intentions off as pure, but the act nonetheless baffled him.

Why would she give him such a flower?

Still, figuring out her purpose behind that act was not his main priority.

"I have to study," he replied as curtly as ever.

"I don't get what's so fun about studying... Why are you obsessed with it every single day, Seijuro? Oh well, not like it matters to me," Daiki remarked as he played around with a ball. It was his new plaything. He would often beckon the brothers, and sometimes Satsuki, to play ball with him. That was the only common activity that allowed the brothers to bond.

"That's because you're stupid, Dai-chan," Satsuki blurted out.

"At least I'm great with a ball unlike you, Satsuki," he casually remarked. Of course, that resulted in him receiving a mega smack from Satsuki.

"…I don't understand Sei-chin too. I would never study, unless I get snacks," Atsushi murmured.

Folding her arms, Satsuki rebuked the giant, "You're going to become fat at this rate, Sushi-chan!" It was rather amusing to see how the peach-haired girl was scolding someone who pretty much towered over her. If Seijuro could use an analogy, it was like a mouse squeaking in front of an elephant.

"I have to agree with that. You should control your diet, Atsushi," he concurred.

"I'm tall. That's fine, isn't it?" Atsushi said, sulking now that two people were nagging at him.

"What does that have to do with anything? You'll grow tall and fat!" Satsuki exclaimed, almost exasperated.

Atsushi shrugged, popping a candy into his mouth as he said, "All emperors are fat, but nobody says anything. Correct me if I'm wrong."

An eerie silence loomed over the six for a moment, but later, peals of laughter rippled out, notably from Ryota and Daiki.

"Y-You're actually right, Sushi-cchi! I-I can't- Ahahaha!" Ryota stumbled over his words amidst his guffawing.

Seijuro shook his head, saying with a warning tone, "The Emperor will scold you if he hears that, Atsushi."

"He scolds me all the time anyway… No difference. But it helps that you're the eldest, not me," Atsushi stated with a bored expression on his face.

Daiki nodded.

"Yeah, thanks a lot Seijuro."

The only green-haired boy pushed up his glasses, stating sternly, "All of you have to stop relying on Seijuro already."

Nudging the green-haired boy playfully, Daiki asked, "Why, you want to become King, Shintaro? You know that's impossible with Seijuro around. Plus, you're the forth oldest. I'll probably take over the position before you do."

Huffing, Shintaro ignored the navy-haired boy as he said, "I do not care about such things. However, I will beat Seijuro one day. That's for sure."

Smirking, Seijuro replied to his declaration, "You can try, Shintaro. But I always win."

They were noisy, indeed. Yet, at times, he didn't really mind their blabbering.

It reminded him he was still alive, and there were still people he cared for.

He stalked off to his refuge of solitary, where no pesky brothers or girl would disrupt his peace.

…Or at least, he thought so, until he heard a pair of light footsteps behind him, echoing when he moved and fading when he stopped.

Fed up with this 'game', he asked the follower, "Why did you follow me?"

There was a small chuckle in the air, as the follower answered, "Why not?" Of course, it had to be her, and she was being just as ambiguous as before.

She was using his manner of speech back at him.

Her intentions were still very much unclear, but he would find out in due time.

Giving up on the question for now, he asked next, "Aren't you scared of me?"

"Yes."

The reply was surprisingly quick and honest. He turned back, facing a peach-haired girl who seemed somewhat flustered by her own statement.

He was right. She was putting on a front after all. Yet, he could sense no deception from her, just slight fear and… courage. How was it possible that two contradicting feelings intertwined together?

"I-I mean, I was scared! But then, I can't be scared of someone who told me to leave him alone. That's just not right," she added, fidgeting with her hands slightly. Nonetheless, she held his gaze, and her tone was determined.

With that, he deemed her to be truthful.

"Explain," he commanded.

Satsuki tilted her head.

"Uh… Explain?" she hesitated momentarily, as if thinking through her words, before continuing, "When someone says to leave him alone, it's either false or half true and half false. But ultimately, he doesn't want to be left alone—at least, I can't think of anyone who wants to be. I know that, because I feel that too. Even for Shin-chan, Dai-chan, Sushi-chan and Ryotan, that seems to be the case. So, I thought it's the same for you, Crown Prince."

That was new. He had never placed such a value in these three words. In fact, he had always taken them literally.

Was that what the Emperor meant when he said those words?

He shook his head. Impossible. His father was never one to put double meaning into words, even if he might be ambiguous at other occasions. His commands were always absolute. And he thought he, himself, was the same too.

But the peach rose had thawed the ice around his heart somehow, allowing him to understand the girl with a new mindset.

"I see. You analyse people, don't you?" he noted. In this palace, everyone was analysing one another, in hope to exploit one another's weaknesses. But the peach-haired girl didn't seem to do that for that very reason.

A wry grin surfaced on her face as she nodded, saying, "People are fascinating to watch, but almost too predictable. Especially so in this palace."

So she returned his sentiments.

"And may I ask, where do I fit in in between?"

She raised her index finger up to her lips. It was a repeat of the same gesture from before.

"It's a secret. It's no fun if you know everything, Crown Prince!"

Mirth danced in the peach-haired girl's eyes.

Normally, ambiguity was used to dismiss, evade or trick.

But coming from her, it just seemed cheeky, playful and fun.

"So be it."

He might allow such imprudence from time to time.

Finally, he reached his destination—the library. He picked up a book and settled down on a chair.

"Are you not playing with the rest?" he questioned, neither irked nor delighted. Akashi Seijuro was always calm, a doll whose strings to feelings had been cut.

The peach-haired girl took another book and chirped, "I changed my mind. I'll stay and study with you."

The time was strangely quiet, other than the flipping of pages. The musty odour of books lingered in the air. Despite seeming like one who would ramble on and on about useless things, the pink-haired girl was rather concentrated in her book.

For once, Seijuro thought he wouldn't mind studying with her again.

He could tell the sun was setting. The sky blue of the landscape transformed into warm orange. The glorious sun was retreating into its bed, its remaining rays of light shining through the small window of the library, landing onto the girl beside him. Soon, it would be night.

The light reflected her; she reflected the light.

"Crown Prince, I may not be in any position to say this, but…" she paused, deliberating over her words.

"Isn't it better if you cry it out?"

Did she think he was sad, after all? And where did her persistence come from? He was sure he hadn't acted out of the ordinary.

He said placidly, "I simply do not understand your insistence. If that's your impression of me, I must've failed."

"Does feeling sad mean you've failed?" she questioned again.

Without a doubt.

"Of course."

She looked up from her book, gazing straight into his eyes.

"I disagree."

Seijuro raised his eyebrows. Nobody disagreed with him. No one.

"There's this quote… 'You can only know how to stand up when you fall'. When you feel sad, you'll only know how it likes to feel happy again. That's what I believe in," she proclaimed with a fervent energy, her eyes twinkling amidst the light.

"That does not make sense," he immediately concluded. Because all along, he believed victory was the only answer. Introducing other variables would just complicate his route further.

And in shogi—in fact, in any other activity, winning was the final destination. There was no way one could lose and win again.

Satsuki smiled slightly, before stating, "Because you're not trying to make sense of it, Crown Prince."

He observed her—the way her lips quirked up, and the way her eyes faced his.

"This is the magic of the world. Everything's unpredictable, and no theory fits all. It's always subjective, always changing. Isn't that what makes the world interesting?" she questioned.

Then, she shut her book.

"That's why… I believe we should at least take charge of our own lives. Whether we want to feel sad, happy, angry, we should let our bodies feel the way they want to feel. And release these feelings in a way fitting for us, only," she concluded.

She didn't understand; she was still too naïve. In order to feel, one had to be prepared to break free from all restrictions placed on them. And Seijuro was certain he would never do that.

But, he wouldn't mind being himself again sometimes. If it was her, he was sure it would be fine.

It would be fine to escape from reality once in a while.

She was here again. And here on the next day. Somehow, studying in the library became their common routine.

"Crown Prince, if I may ask, what is your dream for the future?" she asked, her pink irises still fixated onto her book. The book was titled 'Sieges, Battles, Takeovers'.

Dream…? He always only had one dream: To succeed the throne. But what lay beyond that?

He thought of the peach rose, its petals fluttering with the wind. He thought of his trips out to the city, the people's merry laughter and conversations. He thought of his brothers, their useless chattering, and her smile.

"To maintain the peace," he replied.

Then, she looked up from her book, staring directly into him.

"Promise me you'll do just that," she said.

He nodded.

"I promise."

Promises were made to be broken.