Puits d'Amour
Princes of Amity, Pt 2
Takenouchi Sora descended the stairs connecting her flat on the building's second floor to Café du Ciel, the business on the first floor. There was a door at the foot of the stairs, restricting access. Sora let herself out and locked up behind her.
She stood in a narrow hallway against the building's back wall. The kitchen was ahead, and the clinking, chopping, and chatter of the lunch rush sang from its open doors. She poked her head in and saw students from the nearby university at work, making sandwiches, soups, salads, and baking any breads or pastries that sold out during the morning. Daisuke, the head chef, grinned when he saw her.
"Sora-san! Hungry for lunch? What will it be?"
Daisuke was about twenty, a student enrolled in business management classes. He was a bit short and had a strong frame, toned with physical activity that he somehow managed to squeeze between work and school. His hair was a messy shock of cinnamon, and his eyes were close in color, just a touch more brown.
Sora requested a salad and a piece of baguette, then retraced her steps down the hall. She nearly collided with Wallace, a blue-eyed blond around Daisuke's age. Slim and tall, with an animated gait and face, Wallace could command a room with his charm and effortless presence. He twirled around her automatically, a maneuver common to all restaurant staffers.
"Whups! Pardon, boss." He flashed a flirtatious wink before vanishing into the kitchen to check for completed orders.
Sora grinned and shook her head, long accustomed to Wallace's... Wallaceness. She continued down the hall, which turned a bend and fed into the café foyer.
Café du Ciel was once a sizable house, with a kitchen, dining room, living room, family room, and foyer on the first floor. Now, the bottom floor contained the kitchen and café, but retained its original homey feel. Sora's goal was for eating at her café to feel like visiting a friend. And so, she toured the place, greeting everyone she knew, which was the majority of the patrons.
The café was meant to evoke a restaurant in the Autun countryside, where the Queen of Hakone spent her summers growing up. So, although the house was originally built in an old Hakone architecture style, it was renovated as part of a cultural outreach sponsored by the King, to bring bits of Autun to Hakone for the benefit of his transplant wife and Autun ambassadors. Sora chose stone outer walls washed white and floor-to-ceiling windows in wooden frames, guided by photos from Autun restaurants.
After entering the sun-drenched foyer, Café du Ciel patrons found themselves among flowers, arranged by a local florist each morning for sale. To the right, a sunny dining area waited, featuring a fireplace, tables, and a few sofas. The kitchen, as well as locked doors to the cellar, the staircase to the second floor, and the back entrance that opened to the delivery lane behind the café, were down the hall. And to the left, the main café area beckoned, a huge room flooded with ethereal light in the right weather conditions and stocked with homey touches: art, photographs, rugs, throw pillows and blankets, plants, and even more flowers.
The main café featured the ordering counter, a glass display case stocked with freshly baked pastries against the enormous front windows. The counter housed a cash register, the coffee and drink-making paraphernalia, and local students to take orders. Further into the room, patrons could sit at tables or on armchairs and sofas. There was a second, larger fireplace, the most coveted sitting area in the café- especially when music students performed at the upright piano or guitar nearby. There was another small room in the back, a more intimate and quiet sitting area that also provided entry to the water closets. It was, Sora hoped, more than a place to eat. She wanted to provide a place to relax, linger, and catch up with friends, a comfortable, friendly environment that even the patrons could take pride in.
After completing a circuit around the café, Sora returned to the main room. The pastry displays were almost empty now, depleted during the morning. Ichijouji Ken, another student around Daisuke's age, manned the espresso machine. Usually, Mimi worked the register and filled pastry orders while Ken made drinks, but a part-timer was taking orders at the moment.
The lunch rush was especially pronounced today, so Sora asked, "Hey, Ken-kun, Chiaki-chan. Do you need help?" Chiaki smiled and shook her head, remaining focused on her customer. Ken blinked and looked up from the espresso machine. Sora knew how to work it, more or less, but the technology was new, intimidating, and frightfully expensive.
Ken had long, dark hair, currently tied back with a white ribbon, and deep blue eyes. There was no other way to say it: he was beautiful, tall and slim with high cheek bones and an abundance of dark, long eyelashes. Sora was well aware that he drew customers for reasons unrelated to caffeine.
As if his face wasn't charming enough, Ken spoke in a gentle tenor, with soft inflections that hinted at his kind temperament. "I'm fine, thank you. Mimi-san is taking inventory."
"Alright. Please let me know if you get overwhelmed."
Sora waited for Ken's nod, then looped back towards the kitchen. Spare supplies were stored in the cellar, which was accessed by a door in the back hall. Sora knocked on it and called, "Mimi-chan?"
A cheerful, flutey voice called, "Sora-san! Come down!" Sora descended the stairs and found Mimi standing by a large shelf with a clipboard beneath the halo of light from an overhead bulb.
Tachikawa Mimi was a new graduate, holding the same business degree that Daisuke was pursuing. She was about twenty-four and shining, even in a cellar. Mimi had light brown hair, eyes of reddish gold, a slim figure, and an infectious vivacity that drew in and cheered up everyone who saw her.
Mimi was learning how to run her own business through Sora, and also worked the registers, managed the shifts, and replenished supplies. But, like Ken, she played another roll of drawing customers through the door.
"We need more baking powder," Mimi said.
"Alright, thank you. Can you take a break for lunch with me?"
"Sure!" Mimi chirped. She marked her place on her checklist, then stowed the clipboard on the shelf. They exited, and Mimi locked the cellar door behind them. Sora chatted with customers while Mimi made her order. When the food was ready, the ladies carried it upstairs to Sora's home on the second floor.
The second story once housed several bedrooms. These days, it contained smaller versions of the downstairs features: a kitchen with a dining table, a living room, and Sora's bedroom and bathroom. The upstairs space was a blend of high quality traditional pieces in Hakone style, items that were covered and stored in the house during periods of disuse, and countryside Autun style, things that caught Sora's eye while shopping for the café.
Sora and Mimi sat at the round wooden table in the kitchen, on wooden chairs with cheerful yellow cushions. Sora gravitated towards yellows, blues, and greens in her decor, and the kitchen walls were a soft, calming sage. Her cooking space was simple, since she often ate breakfast and lunch prepared by her staff in the downstairs kitchen, but she kept it stocked with cookingware and ingredients common to Hakone cuisine. A small, simple ikebana arrangement she made last night served as a centerpiece on the table. The kitchen was separated from the rest of the flat by a sliding shoji door.
Famished, Sora started on her salad, but Mimi neglected her portion. "Did you hear?!" she demanded.
Sora chewed a mouthful of greens as she stared at Mimi, who seemed fit to burst with excitement, nearly vibrating. Unwilling to risk speech with her mouth full, Sora shook her head. This response delighted Mimi, who drummed the table, a dramatic accompaniment to her announcement. "The crown prince is coming home!"
Sora searched her memory as she swallowed. "Oh? The older prince is... Ishida Yamato, right?"
"Of course!" Mimi cried, as if everyone had princes on their minds at all times.
"It's been ages since he's been in Nagano for long," Sora said. Her face scrunched as she tried to remember newspaper photographs of the royal family. "Why is he coming home now?"
"To train for the crown. The paper said that the King and Queen encourage the princes to finish their graduate degrees before starting their political training."
"That seems reasonable," Sora replied. "It's so easy for politics to polarize into extremes. Best to learn how to think and get some experience first."
Mimi stared at Sora until she was almost squinting. "Aren't you excited?! It's so romantic! The crown prince, returning home from his mother's country!"
Sora grinned. "Is it romantic because he's a prince, or because everyone says he's so handsome?"
"Yes!" Mimi cried, smacking the table with open palms. "The photograph in the paper was so dreamy! They say he's blond and blue-eyed, with beautiful skin."
"So is Wallace-kun," Sora countered, nonplussed.
"Wallace-kun is cute as can be," Mimi replied. "But this is a prince! Coming here!"
And, suddenly, Sora was more interested. "That's true... The prince's return might draw crowds, especially for the first week or so."
Mimi's gleaming eyes and eager grin suggested that she had the same idea. "He's giving an address just down the road when he returns! Ah-ha! Now do I have your attention?"
"You always did," Sora laughed. "But now you have my interest, too. That's going to bring a lot of people to Nagano- and the café."
"It will!" Mimi agreed. "The first in-person glimpse at the crown prince in who knows how long?!" She paused and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Is there a way to find out what the prince likes? We could make a special of his favorite pastries, drinks, and flowers."
"That's a great idea." At a glance, Mimi seemed too excitable and playful to focus on the nuts and bolts of running a business. But her enthusiasm, creativity, and understanding of how people and crowds worked produced a font of marketable ideas, and she was perfectly capable of concentrating and working hard. Sora was proud and pleased to have Mimi apprenticing with her, but worried that she would run out of things to teach her any day now.
Mimi crossed her arms and tipped her head to the side. "I don't think much is publicly known about the princes... They say the crown prince is reserved, and his brother is affable."
"I couldn't say," Sora replied. "But I can ask my mother. She gave the princes ikebana lessons when they were children."
Mimi's honey-brown eyes went wide with wonder. "What! Are you serious?!"
Sora laughed. "I am, yes." Sora's mother, Takenouchi Toshiko, was the head of the Takenouchi school of ikebana. As such, she was considered the leading expert in the traditional Hakone art of flower arrangement. If anyone was going to teach the princes, the master of the craft was the natural choice.
"Does she remember what their pieces looked like? Does she have photographs? What is the prince's favorite flower? We can ask Hikari-chan to bring those in!"
Sora held her hands up, palms out. "Slow down! I'll ask."
"I'll make you a list of questions for her," Mimi said, with a seriousness that made Sora's throat tickle with laughter.
"Eat," Sora said. "You haven't touched your food."
Mimi took a few bites of her salad and a loud crunch of apple, but the focus in her eyes suggested that her brain was still churning. "The King and Queen are so young, like your mom. It will probably be a long time before the crown prince becomes king."
"That sounds ideal," Sora replied. "Being king must be a lot of pressure. Hopefully, he'll have plenty of time to learn, and maybe do some things he wants to do first."
"Like you and the café, right?"
Sora managed a soft smile as she nodded. Someday, she would take on the Takenouchi school. She loved ikebana and sold flowers in the café for inspiration and supplies, making arrangements with whatever remained at the end of the day. But there were so many things she wanted to do as Sora before she became the next Takenouchi head.
"Do you think he'll be expected to marry and have the next crown prince or princess?" Sora shrugged, as she had no idea. Besides, she suspected that Mimi would continue on the topic of romance unprompted, and was not disappointed. "How romantic would it be to date a prince?!" Mimi sighed.
"Oh? Got your sights set on him?" Sora teased.
"Please!" Mimi flapped a hand dismissively. "I've got things to learn and a business to set up! But it's fun to think about."
"He'll likely have an arranged marriage, like his parents," Sora ventured.
"Oh, yeah... The King and Queen married after the war ended…" Ishida Hiroaki, the king of Hakone, wed his wife, Anne, following a long, terrible war between Hakone and Autun. Anne was the second-born of Autun's royal family, and therefore not set to inherit the Autun crown- which made her the natural candidate for an international union. Their marriage sealed the peace between the two countries, who enjoyed a prosperous economic and political friendship afterward.
"I wonder what an arranged marriage is like," Mimi murmured. "I could never!"
"There's a chance I might have to," Sora reminded her friend, although so far, any actual action to that end was confined to a nebulous someday. "And some arranged marriages work out better than some love marriages. It's hard to say what's better."
"They say the King and Queen work well together," Mimi offered. "But also that they aren't very romantic."
"They say a lot of things, I'm sure." Unwilling to speculate on the lives of people she would never meet, Sora turned the subject back to business. "Do you really think customers would buy a special around the prince's tastes?"
"Of course!" Mimi replied, laughing. "Everyone wants to live like a royal!"
Sora wasn't interested in that, but she was interested in moving pastries and drinks. And so, she picked Mimi's brain for ideas as they enjoyed their lunches.
XXX
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
Yamato placed a hand on Roncier's head, struggling to stay calm. The docks at the port town nearest his family's Autun estate were overrun with people, here to gawk and wave at the royal passenger ship that would take him to Hakone. Town homes, old but well-maintained and charming, lined both sides of the narrow road that his automobile traversed. It was made of cobble stones, rendering the ride bumpy and uncomfortable. Yamato kept his gaze straight ahead, avoiding the masses of people lining both sides of the road.
"Don't they have anything better to do?" Yamato murmured to Takeru and Jyou. Takeru sat in the car's front passenger seat, while Roncier was smushed between Yamato and Jyou in the back seat. An impassive driver ignored them, unless directly addressed.
"This is their last chance to have a look at you for a while," Jyou said, in a tone so reasonable that Yamato wanted to smack him. "And smile, Yamato. They can see you."
Yamato pulled his lips up, but he rather doubted it looked like a smile. Takeru rotated in the front seat and confirmed with, "Yeesh. Roncier, give Aniki a kiss. He's too grumpy."
Yamato glared at his brother, but didn't have the heart to take any digs at him. He didn't know when he'd be able to live with Takeru again. In theory, Takeru had about three more years of schooling in Autun before being summoned to Hakone. But, as the younger prince, he might have more freedom than Yamato, including the option to live in Autun permanently.
Yamato reminded himself that this was exactly what he wanted, what he had worked towards and sacrificed for. So why was the possibility so upsetting?
"I'm serious," Jyou sighed. "Smile. People are waving."
Yamato buried his fingers in Roncier's coarse fur. No doubt feeling his tenseness, Roncier snorted and nudged Yamato's cheek with his snout. Yamato reminded himself that now was not the time to shout at Jyou. Mostly because of the crowd, but also because he would be stuck on a steamship with him for two weeks.
The procession of cars inched along the loud, bustling streets, inexorably drawn to the sea. Like most Autun cities, the port town predated cars, and had difficulty accommodating the royal procession and the mass of people. Guards were stationed everywhere, ensuring that pedestrians allowed enough space for vehicles on streets originally designed for foot traffic, or carriages at best.
Impossibly, the crowds worsened near the dock. Yamato tried to smile, mindful of the eyes peering through the car windows. But inside, his heart and mind churned, sick with the knowledge that home and Takeru would soon be separated from him by a cold, indifferent sea.
The din of voices and traffic filled their vehicle. Takeru chattered at them, half-shouting to be heard, and Yamato clung to the sound of his voice, too worked up to decipher the content. Eventually, their car pulled away from the others, off the street and into a makeshift room made of stacked shipping crates. The young men exited the car, stretching their legs while attendants bustled and guards blocked off the entrance.
As always, stepping out of a car felt something like popping a bubble, a return to the real world. The voices were louder than ever without the metal barrier, and the cries of seagulls were now audible. Looking up beyond the stacked crates, he found a blue summer sky, overbright with sun and dotted with dark, moving forms- the gulls, or perhaps osprey. Although it was sturdy, the dock seemed to sway, an impression likely generated by the slapping of waves against the support beams. Everything smelled of salt and old wood, and Roncier worked his way along the dock, exploring with his nose.
They chatted while they waited- or, rather, Jyou and Takeru did while Yamato contributed with an occasional nod. Eventually, an attendant fetched them, and suddenly, like magic, they were surrounded by guards and servants.
The princes, Jyou, and Roncier were directed to a ramp that connected the dock to the steamship. Yamato didn't need Jyou jabbing him with an elbow to know that this was the moment for his most princely smiles and waves. When they rose above the top shipping crates, the crowd roared and cheered, drowning the sounds of the sea. Bodies filled every available space as far as Yamato could see, turning their faces up to him. His instinct was to pause and step back, away from the noise and the claustrophobic press of people, but his training as a prince won out. He walked on, each step a hollow thud on the ramp, with nothing but air and sea below the stretch of wood.
The Côtes d'Armor was a sleepy, rural place where residents soon came to know everyone. People must have traveled here in droves to see him off. Frankly, Yamato didn't understand it. Despite being raised as a prince and reminded daily of his duties, he saw himself as a student who had yet to launch his career- surely no one grand enough for strangers to wave handkerchiefs at from a dock. And yet, here he was, stiffly grinning at a mass of people, faces blending and blurring in the crowd.
He didn't recognize any of them. Other than Takeru and some favorite guards and estate personnel, there was no one here that Yamato wanted to see him off. As far as he knew, no friends that he met at the family estate or Lyon University were present. The Autun nobility weren't nearly as unctuous as the Hakone nobles, likely because Yamato would never have any power in Autun. And, while he only truly trusted Takeru and Jyou, Yamato considered a few of them friends. He was tempted to ask Jyou if he remembered to send word of his departure to their university friends, but he knew better than to question if Jyou had fulfilled his responsibilities. No- they had chosen not to attend.
The Côtes d'Armor is out of the way, and there isn't much to do here, Yamato reasoned. It's a long way from Lyon, just to wave at a ship. It's foolish to expect anyone to make the trip.
And yet, it was a horribly lonely feeling, gazing into a crowd and knowing no one he wanted to see him off was among them.
At last, they boarded, and Yamato, Takeru, Jyou, and Roncier were ushered aside. An attendant approached and said, "We'll be setting off soon. Your Highness, please take this chance to say goodbye." With that, he bowed and hurried off, leaving their group in relative privacy. Bodies scurried about the deck, but allowed them a few yards of space.
Yamato's throat clogged. He turned to Takeru and instinctively grabbed his shoulder. The boy's typical smile was long gone, and his eyes shined with liquid rather than humor. "I, I want to come," he rasped.
"I'll give you a moment." Jyou took Roncier's lead and walked off. Yamato glanced after him, not knowing what to do- until Takeru sniffled.
Yamato forgot Jyou and Roncier, forgot the ship and everyone bustling along its deck. He pulled Takeru into a hug. "Come for Yuletide," he murmured. "I'll see you then. Study hard, read whatever you can get your hands on. The semester will end before you know it."
"Onii-chan- We've always- Always been together." Takeru broke off with a wet gasp. Shaking, the boy buried his face in Yamato's shoulder.
"You have lots of friends," Yamato said, ignoring the ripping in his chest. "The house is practically infested with them."
Takeru's nose rubbed his shoulder as he shook his head. "T-that's not the same."
"I know." What else could he say? Their memories were populated with beloved teachers, caregivers, and friends. But they were the only souls who knew what it was like to be the living symbols of peace between their countries, to be breathing icons of some abstract, lauded concept, locked away in a countryside castle.
Takeru squeezed him hard enough to flatten his lungs. "Don't just work. Have fun. Take your walks. Meet people."
Then, Takeru released him, wiped his eyes, and stood straight and tall- and Yamato was unbearably, ineffably proud of his brother, who was strong enough to show his less positive emotions, and to face the troubles that birthed them.
Yamato cleared his throat, desperately pushing down his own urge to cry. "I have to have something to write you about. You take care. Call me, write me."
"Write back!" Takeru demanded. "I'm serious!"
"You know I will."
They stared at one another for an extended moment, somehow separated from the noise and movement surrounding them. Takeru was red-faced, his lips slightly quivering, eyes watery. The bright summer sunshine glinted against his golden hair. He was a gleaming mess, a strange visual- the last Yamato would have of him for some time.
An attendant approached and gently reported that it was time to disembark. Takeru seized Yamato in one more hug, then followed the man back down the ramp. Another attendant materialized and led Yamato to the ship's rail, the prime position for smiling and waving, where Jyou and Roncier were already stationed. Yamato obliged, but his gaze kept returning to Takeru's spot in the sectioned off corner of the dock.
He watched and waved until the people were mere specks, at which point he asked to be seen to his rooms. An attendant led Yamato, Jyou, and Roncier to their quarters. The vessel was large enough to move smoothly over the ocean, but Yamato seemed to feel the sea rocking, rolling beneath him.
The ship looked mundane from the outside, save for its generous size, but the inside was lavish, featuring domed glass windows in the roof, beautiful rugs, and upholstered furniture. The large, public rooms the attendant led them through evoked the feeling of a gentlemen's club, with dark wood furnishings, dark wallpaper, intricate pillars, and luxurious overhead lighting.
The royal suite was, predictably, teetering on the edge of ridiculous. It featured its own foyer, with a dramatic staircase leading to a second story. The foyer housed a grand piano, a fountain, an abundance of plants, and far more seating and tables than occupants. Upstairs, a few bedrooms awaited, along with a study/library, a decadent bathroom, and a sitting room in the masculine style of the public areas. The attendant walked them past these, stopping at a door on the furthest end of the second story hall. He opened it and bowed them inside.
Jyou sucked in a breath, but Yamato was too upset to appreciate the finery of his lodging for the two week voyage. The cavernous space had far more pillars than any bedroom had the right to possess, but the main features were the walls of glass looking out to an unbroken stretch of sky and sea, the huge bed with its silky sheets, and the intricate domed window stationed above it.
As soon as they were alone, Yamato splattered on the bed. The mattress shifted as Jyou took a seat beside him, and again as Roncier clambered up. The sound of his panting was familiar, safe, comforting. Yamato fought the urge to seize the enormous dog round the middle and hug him like a stuffed toy.
"You alright?" Jyou asked, sliding his notebook out of his blazer pocket.
"Fabulous," Yamato drawled into a pillow.
"Takeru took it pretty hard," Jyou sighed. "You two have always been close, but... Yuletide is only four months off. I haven't seen my parents and brothers in..." Jyou paused, sorting through his memories. "Eight months? Is that when I last visited Nagano?"
Yamato flipped from his stomach to his back, staring at the gorgeous domed window overhead. "It's different," he said. "We lived with our parents in Nagano when we were children, but once we were old enough to be away from them..."
In Autun, it was common for children to attend boarding schools away from home from age six and up. Yamato and Takeru moved to Autun without their parents at age ten and seven, respectively, learning from masters in the Autun residence and spending breaks with children from noble families. Often, it was lonely, but Yamato and Takeru always had each other.
"This is hard to explain," Yamato sighed, cupping his forehead. "But it feels like… People revere us and look to us for the future. But, at the same time, we're shunted aside until we're old enough to contribute politically."
"You weren't ignored. There are always people at the estate," Jyou pointed out. "Noble children visited and stayed for weeks when we were young."
"Yeah," Yamato grunted. "But a friendship is strained when one half of it has to use titles and always mind what they say... Or when one half is hoping for a share of the royal family's money or power."
"You're right," Jyou said gently. "I have noticed that."
Yamato managed an exhausted grin. "People buttering me up, you mean?"
"It's entertaining to watch you shut them down," Jyou offered.
He grunted, unimpressed. "I'm glad one of us gets something out of it."
Jyou briefly brushed Yamato's hand. "I'm sorry it's so hard on you. That might sound ridiculous, seeing where we're sitting, but... There are lots of things worth more than a luxury suite."
"I'm glad you're here," Yamato said. His own admission surprised him, and, confusingly, he compensated with his most impressive scowl.
Jyou's head whipped up from the open notebook. "Huh?" he breathed, mouth slack.
Impressively, Yamato's scowl intensified. "I was talking to Roncier."
Hearing his name, the dog cocked his head. Jyou's brow furrowed as he observed Yamato, who stared back as standoffishly as possible. After a long interval, Jyou released a soft laugh, smiled, and returned his attention to his notebook. "Of course."
Yamato relaxed, and gratefully sank into the quiet that followed. Eventually, he noticed that Jyou wasn't moving, and although he held a notebook, there was no sound of pages turning. He lifted his head and found Jyou staring at him, brow furrowed, his smile a bit stiff, wooden.
"What," Yamato drawled, without any inflection to indicate that it was a question. A command, more like. Whatever Jyou was nervous about had to do with him, based on his staring- and wasn't that comforting?
Jyou's shoulders slumped. "It's just- Yamato. Sorry, but… Um, there's a barber aboard- the ship has a luxury barber, I mean."
Understanding rushed from Yamato's brain down his nervous system, settling in his stomach, where it froze everything over. So, it wasn't enough for him to lose his home and his brother. He had to lose his damned hair, too?
"S-sorry." Jyou slid a folded letter from his notebook and handed it over. Yamato scanned it- he already knew what it would contain. Sure enough, he found an infuriatingly roundabout string of sentences, boiling down to: Kindly have the prince cut his hair before his arrival in Hakone.
The Autun countryside was relaxed, and Yamato's medium-length hair was considered respectable, so long as it was tidy. Takeru's scruffiness was more of a point of contention. But apparently, the crown prince had to be sleek in Hakone.
"Fine," he nearly growled. What choice did he have? Sometimes, dignity had less to do with getting his way and more to do with handling his frustration- which was, of course, infinitely frustrating.
Jyou sighed. "I'm sorry. Your hair looks great at any length, though."
"I don't care about that," which was true. Yamato was constantly told that he and Takeru were handsome, but he struggled to sense if people were being honest with him, or if they were flattering him in hopes of currying favor. He did know that, to a degree, beauty could be bought and manufactured with enough resources. As someone with access to those resources, beauty wasn't a concern. What irritated him was the control exerted on his image by others. The face of the crown prince- or the hair, apparently- was the face (hair?) of the nation.
"I know." It was unclear whether Jyou was agreeing that Yamato was unconcerned about his hair, or if he was commiserating with his frustration, and it didn't matter. His supportive expression, the hand resting on his wrist, was what mattered.
As he absorbed and came to terms with the contents of the letter, Yamato noticed how worn it was, although it was only dated three weeks back. The script was warped at the edges of the paper, meaning that the letter was moist at some point. Did Jyou sweat for three weeks over having to tell him about this? Was he instructed to wait until they were on the ship, where Yamato had no escape from this barber?
Jyou's anxiety, visible before him on the paper, tugged at Yamato's heart, a distraction from his frustration. "Anything else?" he prompted, hoping to spare Jyou from having more annoying revelations hovering over his head.
Jyou withdrew his touch and nodded. "Your parents had someone send a dossier on Hakone nobility and current events."
Yamato nodded; that was typical. When Jyou continued to look strained, Yamato scowled and prompted, "But?"
Jyou heaved a deep sigh. "It's… extensive. I'll show you when they bring our luggage in."
"Great." Somehow, all at once, the weight of everything was too much. Yamato stared at the sky through the dome window, trying to turn his wet eyes away from Jyou. "Can that- can that wait? I could stand some time to myself."
"Of course." Jyou stood and excused himself to his room next door, granting Yamato the rare, exquisite gift of privacy.
Alone in his room with Roncier, Yamato curled up on the bed, shoved his face in a pillow, and struggled against tears.
Author's Notes: And alas, just like that, ponytail Yams is no more! A moment of silence for his luxurious locks. F in the chat. (This might make more sense if you pop into AO3 to read this story- I include art and images for the fic over there, along with links).
Puits d'Amour updates every other week! See you soon, and please let me know if you enjoyed this update, I'd love to hear from you!
PS: You can find me on Tumblr and AO3, all under ahiddenpath!