Warning: graphic description of violence

Chapter 14:

Sakuno handed Ryoma an ice pack the moment they got inside. The crickets were still calling out to each other outside, but the birds were beginning to chirp their morning songs.

"Thanks," he said. He pressed it against his eyes.

"My fault for making you cry," she joked.

He let out a small smile.

With the ice pack pressed tightly against his eyes, he couldn't see much. Sakuno wheeled from place to place, disappearing in and out of his line of sight as she prepared breakfast and morning tea. She pressed a cup of tea, nice and hot, into his hands.

"Careful," she said, "it's hot."

He muttered a thanks but she had already zoomed out of his view, disappearing into the kitchen.

When she reappeared again, she had a platter of breakfast on her knees.

"Can you tell me more about what she said?" Ryoma asked, moments after they began eating.

The ice pack laid on the table, still ice cold due to Sakuno's stasis spell.

"She had been following Prince Fuji for some time," Sakuno said. "She didn't tell me why but perhaps she had been attached to him or knew him in your life, Ryoma-san, and since you weren't here yet, she went to him."

Ryoma frowned. "I… I think I saw her," he said, "once or twice back in my world."

Sakuno gave him a thoughtful look. "Perhaps she flitted in between worlds," she said. "Still attached to you yet somehow trying to cross over into this world. I wonder why this particular world." The last words were muttered mostly to herself.

Ryoma shrugged and took another bite of his eggs.

"Well, if I find out more, I'll be sure to send along the message," Sakuno said.

"Thank you."

"Will you be heading out to see the prince this morn then?" she continued.

She said it as though the prince were still awake and speaking, as though Ryoma could walk up to the castle and be let in. Perhaps he could, but it was more likely that he couldn't.

"I suppose," he said.

"Ah?" a new voice called. "Sakuno! You're up already?"

Tomoka came into view, still looking as though she had just crawled out of bed. Her clothes were rumpled and her hair, let loose hung just below her shoulders in messy waves.

"Tomoka-chan," Sakuno greeted with a smile as the other woman got closer.

Tomoka leaned down and pecked her cheek.

Ryoma watched the display of affection with slight curiosity, wondering briefly if they were even aware that he was still in the room. But as Tomoka drew away, the red flush across her cheeks was evidence enough that she was quite aware.

"'Morning Ryoma-san," Tomoka said, voice more gruff than when she had spoken with Sakuno.

Sakuno gave him two baskets full of food, but whispered that they were magicked and would last the entire group the week's journey even if they ate to their fill.

They set off. The morning had begun settling in, dewy mist hanging above the leaves, clinging onto the the greenery like they were just barely there. The mist made everything softer, even the colors seemed to be more pale and less bright, and the mud suckled at everyone's feet.

Both Kikumaru and Oishi were silent throughout the trip, exchanging glances with each other like they were passing along messages through a telepathic wavelength. Momoshirou, meanwhile, chattered about everything and nothing. He talked about the trees and the mist and how the mud got everywhere on his clothes and this was why he hated traveling up north and why he liked heading down to Shirakawa much better - oh and why couldn't Sakuno had magicked his clothes impervious to rain or mud?

It stayed that way for the first two days. On the evening of the second, the odd mist had begun to clear, and the sun set much earlier than the previous two days.

They huddled together in the glow of the fire Kikumaru had created, huddled together for warmth and for food.

Oishi passed them all bowls full of porridge, a small loaf of bread, and gave each of them some fish. Then, he tucked away the baskets.

Ryoma dug in, mindlessly tuning out Momoshirou's chatter.

Meal finished, he sighed and got up.

"Private business," Ryoma said shortly. He ignored Momoshirou's call to wait for him so they could go together and ignored Oishi's worried - but we'll be safer in pairs - and hurried away.

He saw less and less the further he walked from the fire. When he finally decided that it was far enough, he stopped and began pulling at his strings.

A crackle and he stopped, turning around.

Nothing.

He turned back - it was probably just a wild animal.

But then it was there again - he turned.

"Okaa-san?"

"What is it, Ryoma?" His mother looked down at him, at little Ryoma who couldn't be more than six. He was tucked away in between her arms as she carefully balanced a book in front of them. They cuddled together, squeezed between mounds of pillows like little marshmallows between smores.

"Why aren't there any princes who are together? And what about princesses?"

Ryoma stumbled over 'princesses' but didn't stop. He frowned.

Rinko ran a hand through his hair.

"Let's make a story up for the two princes, then shall we? We can write it out together and then you can draw the pictures!"

Ryoma grinned at the idea of writing his own story.

"Okay Okaa-san!"

A man pressed a knife against his throat.

Ryoma pressed himself against the tree, ignoring the way the bark seemed to eat at his skin.

"Ryoma!"

He jerked and the other man pressed it closer. Ryoma couldn't breathe - he couldn't think - that was Momoshirou! he thought.

The other man waved a finger at him, a teasing 'uh-no you don't' and 'don't you dare speak' demands all rolled into one movement. He smirked from beneath the handkerchief he wore, eyes glittering with malice.

Then, with one hand, he reached into his pocket. He kept the knife pressed against Ryoma's throat as he did so, and slowly pulled out -

Ryoma squinted. A glass jar.

With a pop, the cap flew off and Ryoma suddenly felt dizzy, felt like the air was being sucked away from him. He wanted to sleep, wanted to rest all of a sudden, wanted to lay down and curl onto himself - this man with the knife be damned.

Ryoma, no!

The man was saying something - words forming and Ryoma was not hearing any of it.

Something in him, something in Ryoma, was leaving - slowly and painfully, making him lethargic and heavy. His head lolled to the side and he slid down against the tree - its bark marking him as theirs with angry tears in his shirt, some deep enough to draw blood.

Ryoma vaguely realized that the knife was no longer pressing against his neck - instead, it was pressed against his heart - but he couldn't even lift his arms much less fight against it.

Get up! Get out!

The other man's voice was very soothing.

And then - it stopped.

Ryoma blinked awake, blinked away the lethargy, the dizziness, and the sleepiness. The man from earlier was laying on his side, the knife protruding from his side. Blood leaked out in a heavy stream.

Next to him, another man stood, his back towards Ryoma.

Before he even spun around, Ryoma knew who exactly it was. He felt the sudden drop in his stomach as the familiar face turned and smiled at him - the same smile that had haunted him for so long.

Yuta grinned.

Yuta took Ryoma's hand and they ran.

"C'mon," he was saying, "your friends are also being attacked."

The sudden need to rush towards them surged through him, accompanied by an overwhelming fear. He choked it all down, trying his best to keep a calm facade.

Ryoma wanted to ask Yuta where he came from, having not seen anyone for such stretches and stretches. He wanted to ask Yuta how he knew that they were being attacked, how the other man helped him. And how he can kill the man so callously.

But he said none of it, mind too busy focused on Kikumaru and Oishi and Momoshirou.

When the two of them reached the area where Ryoma and the others had settled, Momoshirou was the only one still standing, brandishing a very large sword that seemed to have come out of nowhere at the men surrounding him.

Both Kikumaru and Oishi laid deadly still at Momoshirou's feet, faces pale.

Before Ryoma could even say another word, Yuta ran forward, bringing up his sword. The men surrounding Momoshirou immediately spun around, the same jars in their hands.

And they began to chant.

"No!" Momoshirou cried. He ran forward and sliced one of the men's arms off; it flew and landed cleanly on the ground as the man screamed and fell forward.

Yuta grinned and then ran towards the men, yelling something about vengeance and sliced off someone's left ear. The man screamed and dropped two of the jars, filled with something shining bright and golden. They rolled to Ryoma's feet and he immediately pocketed them.

"Either you men -" Yuta snarled the last word, "get lost or you'll suffer another lost limb!"

The men exchanged glances and then quickly scrambled to their feet. It looked like they were about to retreat, but then one - the leader, probably - brought up a sword and ran.

Yuta and Momoshirou ran towards them, but Ryoma ducked down. He could play tennis, sure, that was fine, but fight for his life in a sword fight? He didn't even know how to hold a sword properly.

C'mon, love, grab that sword.

Ryoma started, trying to find the source of the voice. But aside from the men shouting and trying to kill each other, there was no one there.

On your left, dear.

Ryoma looked to his left and there was a sword. He picked it up - it felt light and familiar. The weight of it reminded him of his tennis racket, his favorite - the one his mother had gotten for him the day he beat his father.

He stood up.

Block!

And blocked an incoming sword. The man holding it looked surprised that Ryoma had stopped him but continued to pursue his attempt to kill or maim him, redirecting the hit to his legs.

But Ryoma was quick - having been a professional tennis player and all. He dodged and aimed a sweeping slice at the man, accurately targeting the man's thigh.

He screamed and fell. Ryoma ran towards the fight.

Yuta grinned when he saw that Ryoma had returned with a sword.

"Come to join the fun?" he teased as he dodged a swipe at his neck.

"'Wouldn't miss it," Ryoma said. They stood against each other, the three of them, backs pressed tightly against each other.

A pillar, Ryoma thought, allowing that brief moment of insanity to come across his mind.

He took aim.