Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou.


Murata Ken finds bliss in the ordinary days of Shin Makoku-in those days when he would converse with Ulrike, comparing their lifespan, their experiences. Those days when he would be followed around by a mini-Shinou on his shoulder.

Now that Soshuo was gone, he wants nothing more than to maintain the peace Yuuri had brought to this country. To use every bit of his intelligence (and, modesty aside, he did have quite a lot of it) in protecting Shin Makoku.

However, even he had his own secrets. Secrets he keeps from those closest to his heart- Shinou, and Yuuri.

First of these secrets was his relief that the long cycle of his rebirth was finally over. Four thousand years...four thousand years of endless lives, death, loves-more than he had cared to count. It was a burden that he had carried without a single complaint at that time, but now that it was over, he realizes how heavy that duty had been.

He is now free to pursue his interests as Murata Ken. He is now given the freedom to forget about being the Great Sage, at least a little. The second secret was his...desire to forget.

At least sometimes.

The gates of Blood Pledge Castle are open for him. There are maids who greet him, shooting his black hair and eyes adoring looks. Today he had been asked to come to the castle to commemorate an event he had long waited for.

"Murata!"

Murata turns, and smiles as he sees Shibuya Yuuri and Wolfram von Beilifield walking towards him. "Shibuya!"

"I'm so glad you could come," Yuuri tells him in a low voice. "Gunter has been at it since this morning."

His smile widens. "You have to understand, Shibuya. This is a historical moment."

"Gunter has worked hard to copy out Erhard Wincott's diary, wimp." sniffs Wolfram. "Don't tell me you've forgotten how useful it had been in the battle against Soushuo."

"I haven't forgotten!" Yuuri protests.

"What Shibuya means is that he's not looking forward to extra history lessons," Murata provides succintly.

"Exactly! No, wait, that's not what I meant-" Yuuri falters as Wolfram gives him another smoldering glare.

"You're the KING!" rants Wolfram. "How can we have a king who's ignorant of his own country's history?"

Yuuri is clearly desperate. "Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

"I think that you should read it, Shibuya," Murata recommends quietly.

Wolfram and Yuuri both turn to him, and Murata could almost hear the "click" as Yuuri understood what he meant. "There's a part of your history there, too, right?"

"History," Murata repeats. Sunlight glints off his glasses, temporarily hiding his eyes. "Oh yes. That's exactly what Erhard's diary is."

"Murata-"

"You do have to understand that the founding of Shin Makoku has always been more complicated than the accounts written in the books," Murata says. "and much of it was not known, even to Erhard."

"Then...can you tell us what happened, too?" Yuuri asks. "With your story...and Erhard's, the founding will be complete, right?"

"What brought this on so suddenly?" Murata tries to brush off his friend's suggestion. "If I add my account to Erhard's you won't get out of Sir von Kleist's history lessons until you decide to marry Sir von Beilifield."

It's amusing how both boys blush. Synchronocity. But neither voice any protests.

Aha, Murata thought. He smiles again then. "Oh well. It's a taboo subject anyway."

"You were the ones who declared it a taboo," Yuuri argues. "You can break it. Didnt you say that this is the last life that you'll remember your past with Shinou?"

Murata does not reply, but nobody notices. At that precise moment Gunter swoops down on them and drags Yuuri, Murata and Wolfram to the Maou's office. The lavender-haired man is wailing about the importance of the unveiling of Erhard's diary.

Yuuri sighs, but the look that he shoots Murata says, 'Please think about it.'


That night, Murata Ken found himself in his room at the Shinou temple, a jug of spiced wine at his side. He looks out into the night, thinking of Yuuri's words.

The thought has implanted itself in his head, and it would not go away. He is thinking about it.

What had Erhard felt, all those times he wrote in that diary? Did he dream one day how important its role would be? Did it bring him relief?

Did he know?

"Damn it," he mutters, downing his third cup of wine.

As if his words were a signal, there is a shimmer in the room, announcing the very last person he wanted to see when he was like this.

"Was it really so bad, then?" Shinou asks, almost timidly.

"You should learn to knock," Murata gripes. "That's usually why they put doors."

Shinou does not seem to be in the mood for bantering. "I heard what Yuuri had to say. I can tell you're thinking about it."

Murata whirls around to face Shinou. "Yes." he admits. "I am tempted."

"Why don't you take him up on it?"

Murata tries for a smile. "I've never been much of a writer," he says lamely. It was meant to be a joke, but it does not come out that way. It only becomes glaringly obvious how much he wanted to put off having the decision.

Shinou follows the thought that he does not dare speak. "Was it so bad, then?"

"No! Not at all," Murata stumbles over his words in his haste. "It is what the Daikenja-me-has decided, freely. Don't think that everyhing was caused by you." The last bit was said with a faint chuckle.

"You are not the Daikenja," sighs Shinou, "Only his soul is yours. Otherwise, Murata Ken, your life is for you to live."

Murata raises his brows. "I think that may be the first time that you have said that to me."

"You are precious, old friend," Shinou continues. "you have kept your promise a thousand times more than what was expected of you. You deserve happiness. Yuuri is right."

Murata stares out the window again. "I am happy." he says simply.

"You'll forget me in the next life," the Original King argues. "will you be happy then?"

And THAT was a question that Murata could not answer with a joke, because they both knew the real answer.

They were silent for a while, until Murata gives up. "It wasn't so bad," concedes Murata. "all lives have their times of happiness, times of pain."

"Then why don't you write it?"

Murata glares. "will you just wait until I make up my mind?"

Shinou laughs. "There are parts that Erhard does not know."

"Yes."

"There are parts that only we know."

"Yes."

"Well, then, since Yuuri is having those lessons anyway, why don't we break the taboo?"

Murata closes his eyes. "Can you imagine how long four thousand years' woth of lifetime is going to take in print?"

"I'll help you," Shinou offers. "I will tell you, my part as well. How I found you. Why I asked you to help me. How I felt." He crosses his arms. "You needn't tell them everything. Just your first life. The Daikenja."

And there it is again, temptation singing in his veins. To unload his burden.

To tell his story.

"Our story," Shinou corrects him. Again he is following Murata's unspoken thoughts.

"It's creepy when you know me so well," Murata says.

Shinou only nods. "Of course."

"There's Morgiff," Murata point out. "The Demon Mirror. The Demon flute. Erhard's robot. There's also Lawrence, Siegbert and Rufus, aside from Erhard himself and Christel. The first Shrine Maiden. It's long, and complicated. Like I told Shibuya."

"I know. I was there, wasn't I?"

Murata and Shinou stare at each other.

"All right," Murata finally says. "Where shall we begin?"


A/N: First chapter down, which is really more of a prologue. If you managed to finish it up to here, why don't you take the time to review? I would truly appreciate it.

The title is from Napoleon Bonaparte. He said, "history is nothing more than lies we agreed upon." Which, in a sinister way, is appropriate. ,

Review? Alerts?

Thank you!