Co-written with miss mika namariya! We own nothing. :)

Anyone who knew Prince Kuon at all would agree that the prince was a seriously dedicated man. Kuon took his role as a protector of the people seriously, and never did anything less than his very best.

But even he had been outdone by Kyoko Mogami. When it came to professional dedication, her sense of duty knew no bounds. It was, frankly, becoming a problem.

First of all, Kuon had no idea when (or if) she ever slept. A week after she had arrived at the palace and Kuon's terribly irritating crush had blossomed into a full-on infatuation, he had been staring up at the damask silk canopy of his bed and trying not to picture her face floating in the darkness above him. She insisted, as his bodyguard and therefore subordinate, that she had needed no title and he could refer to her by last name, as he did with all the other servants. The bodyguard had been so frighteningly insistent at the time, so Kuon had had no choice but to accept, as much as he wanted to call her by her first name, even if it was just a whisper.

"Kyoko…"

"Yes?"

"AUGH! WHA— HOW—" Kuon sent pillows flying off the bed as he scrambled to sit up, the back of his head solidly colliding with the gilt frame of his headboard.

If Kyoko was amused by the Prince's shock, her face did not show it. She bowed. "Your Highness called?"

"No." Kuon swallowed. "Er, that was… I didn't mean to…" His eyes narrowed. "How long have you been here?"

"It is my duty as your guard to keep watch." Her eyes continued to scan the darkness. "If your Highness has no need for me, I shall return to my post."

And with a soft footstep, she was gone. She could have been under his bed, or on top of the canopy, or behind the curtains, or any other number of strange spots in his room. It wouldn't have surprised him to find her crouching in one of the ceiling corners like a guardian statue. Or maybe she wasn't in his room at all. The prince could never be sure. But from that night on, falling asleep got ten times harder as he would lie in bed, hoping that every rustle of the curtains or creak of the timber was Kyoko, fantasizing that she would come out from her hiding spot and creep into the bed beside him.

She probably would, if he commanded it. If Kuon told her that he couldn't sleep without her presence there, he imagined that his dutiful guard would have let him hold her all night. But he didn't want her there out of duty, or sympathy, or pity — so Kuon never asked. Which was just as well, as it would have completely ruined his fantasy. The prince had not yet learned that in addition to a number of martial arts styles for attack and self-defense, Duke Lory also taught a large number of handy tricks. If the Prince complained to Kyoko of having trouble falling asleep, she knew three pressure-point sequences and six different kinds of hypnosis that would all induce unconsciousness. And the guard would have had absolutely no shame in using them. Regular sleep was as important as a balanced diet when it came to maintaining physical health, and Kyoko considered the Prince's health a matter of duty.

But on a few certain occasions, that sense of duty really went too far. When Kuon had accidentally nicked his palm with a letter opener, Kyoko had ripped out the hem of her tunic to bandage his hand before throwing herself onto the floor in a fit of furious tears and demanding that he chain her up in the dungeon for her 'appalling and horrific lack of care'. The prince had tried for five whole minutes to persuade Kyoko that she didn't deserve to be shackled before he gave up and simply ordered her to stop apologizing and then successfully distracted Kyoko by claiming he was hungry.

Once, Kuon had gotten a splinter from one of the stalls in the stables. Kyoko had again burst into apologies, offering to whip herself or shave her head and practically commanded that she be thrown in the stocks. The next time the prince was at the stables, all of the wooden surfaces had been sanded and polished until they gleamed.

A new recruit to the palace guard had accidentally tripped Kuon with the end of his spear in the gardens one day, and Kyoko had given such a wrathful lecture that Kuon almost thought he saw flames come from her mouth and a strange, heat-shimmer distortion in the air as she berated a man twice her size for his carelessness. Kuon was fine, he had barely stubbed his toe, but had to laugh as Kyoko managed to produce from somewhere within her robes a roll of bandage, gauze pads, a tiny bottle of witch hazel, a coil of string, and three handkerchiefs.

If he had not been so busy trying to ignore the way her deft fingers danced across his skin, examining it for injury, he might have wondered what else she was hiding on her person.

Kuon had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

Now, as a prince, he was used to that; as Kyoko's charge, he was even more used to it. However, this was… different. He noticed it more often when she was not on duty. What struck him as strange was that it didn't feel human. At first this had been comforting; he did love animals, after all. But then he started noticing it when there was nowhere for an animal to hide, like in a meeting. Or in the library, which was a strict no-critters zone (save for the library cat, who had been fast asleep on his lap at the time).

The feeling persisted for a week, and, Kuon observed, that it seemed to intensify whenever Kyoko was not in charge of guarding him (usually because she was off preparing his meals, something he could not persuade her was not her duty. And since her cooking was superb, after a few well-meant attempts, Kuon gave up on trying to convince her to stop). It wasn't a malicious presence, but it was definitely there. The prince did not believe in ghosts, but he was certainly feeling distinctly haunted.

And then the obvious answer clicked, when Kuon overheard Kyoko muttering under her breath about her subordinates. Duke Takarada had not mentioned anyone beyond Kyoko in his letter, but obviously she had to be working with people. Kyoko knew everything that happened in the castle. She was up-to-date on all the gossip and could tell you the exact number of horses in the stables at any given moment. She even knew the meanings that one of the royal spies embroidered onto her handkerchiefs. If Kuon so much as sneezed, Kyoko knew — even if she hadn't been around to witness it. So clearly, she had help.

When Kuon finally mentioned this to her, in an embarrassed way, a few days after the prince had put it together, she gave him a very puzzled look.

Kyoko did indeed have help. She had a whole team. But she could count on one hand the number of people who could actually see them. Even Kyoko herself hadn't been able to at first, until Lory had taught her the proper visualization techniques — or as the Duke had put it, 'opened her heart and mind to the many wonderful possibilities of the universe.' The older man had seen Kyoko's potential, and helped her unlock it. It had been one of many enlightening experiences that Kyoko had under Takarada's instruction at his Academy. And like many experiences at the LME Academy, it was rather difficult to explain to those who had never experienced it for themselves. That Kuon could sense her spirits watching him at all was impressive.

Of course, at least two minions were always assigned to her charge. They circled him constantly, keeping watch. After all, a good guard used all of her available resources.

And his safety was her top priority.

Which was why she was standing in front of him at lunchtime, staring him down. "You need to eat." She blocked his way out of the room and pointed at the lunch she had prepared for him. There wasn't a single thing on that plate that her team hadn't seen him eat (albeit in miniscule portions).

"I'm not hungry." Kuon wasn't sure if he should be flattered or annoyed. On one hand, she had made lunch for him, meaning that she had spent time thinking about him when not on the job. On the other hand, she was insisting he eat and not allowing him to leave the room until he did. All as part of her job, and not because she genuinely cared. That thought made his mood sour.

"You never feel hungry." She pursed her lips. "That doesn't mean that your body can run on air and light. Last I checked, you're not a plant." She paused, then looked at him in wonder. "Unless you're secretly a plant faerie in human disguise?"

Mercy, it was hard not to laugh. "Last I checked, I was completely human." The disappointed look on her face at this broke him; a few chuckles escaped. "Sorry for getting your hopes up." She glared up at him, her cheeks puffed out in a pout, and he couldn't help but fall a little more in love with her.

"Making fun of me will not get you out of eating lunch." She crossed her arms.

But it will make you make adorable expressions.

"Look, I made a mix of things I know you like, with a focus on proper nutrition. This should keep you going until dinnertime." Kyoko let out a long-suffering sigh. "I don't get why you don't like food. It can be the best part of my day."

Curious, he turned around and looked at the lunch on the table behind him. Sure enough, he could tolerate everything on the plate. He almost asked her how she knew what he liked, but then he remembered that she spent her non-guarding time in the kitchens. Still, the fact that she had gone through the trouble to cater to his tastes warmed his heart. Before he knew it, he was sitting down to eat and ignoring the triumphant look on Kyoko's face.

Maybe, if she was the one cooking, eating wouldn't be so bad.

One cloudy afternoon, Kuon was sitting in a quiet corner of the gardens, absently picking at the lunch that Kyoko had delivered earlier while he sat writing out letters. He blinked hard, rubbing his temples. For whatever reason, he was struggling to concentrate. The sentences he drafted in his head seemed to escape him as soon as he touched the pen to the paper. Kyoko had made him a light lunch: a clear soup which he finished easily, and some kind of wrap that Kuon managed a few bites of. Kyoko was a good cook, but Kuon was especially not hungry today, for whatever reason. He broke the remaining bites of his lunch into pieces and gently tossed them on the ground. A few palace birds that nested in the garden swooped down from the nearby trees to feast, chirping happily and devouring his lunch, until an angry rustling from a nearby shrub caused the birds to scatter.

Kuon peered at the bush. He couldn't see anything, but the prince once again had the strange feeling of being watched. And not only did he feel under observation, but that whomever — or whatever — was watching strongly disapproved.

Probably just a cat. Kuon shook his head slightly, then stood, feeling a tiny bit dizzy. The clouds had begun to drizzle ever so slightly, so the Prince gathered up his papers before eyeing the bush.

"Well? Are you coming?" He asked aloud. The shrub's branches rustled again, but no creature emerged. Kuon shrugged — cats.

A few hours later, Kyoko returned, dismissing the current guards with a polite bow and marching up to Kuon with a scowl.

"Is something the matter?" The prince asked. The guard had an expressive face, but it was normally under tight control. So for her to be visibly upset meant that something had really gone wrong.

"You didn't finish your lunch," she said flatly.

Kuon blinked. He had just watched her enter, she hadn't stopped to speak with the guards as they left. So how could she possibly know? He frowned. But the guard gave him no time to ask after her sources, launching immediately into a lecture about the importance of eating every meal and not wasting food. The prince tried to defend himself by pointing out that he had only been trying to feed the birds some crumbs, and Kyoko had silenced him with a look that made Kuon feel like a guilty schoolboy.

"Please promise me you will eat your meals." She did not wait for him to reply. "If you cannot be trusted to eat by yourself, I will have no other choice but to supervise your meal times."

"You say that like it would be a punishment," Kuon said with a lazy grin, then wincing slightly.

"I'm serious, Your Highness."

"So am I," he replied without missing a beat. Something tickled his throat and he coughed before smiling widely. Kyoko remained stone-faced.

"It is my last warning," she said, peering at him. "Are you feeling alright?"

"What?" Kuon squinted at her. "Of course."

"Alright." Her tone said that she didn't believe him. Kyoko observed the prince for a few more moments carefully, before disappearing behind a pillar.

Kuon didn't quite know how to take his bodyguard's strict attitude towards his own eating habits. Obviously, she cared about his health, which was promising. And she cooked most of his meals herself. The Prince was not a stranger to young women at the palace offering him food in hopes to gain something: his affection, usually, or perhaps a favor, or the general goodwill of the royal family. Kuon had never been particularly affected by these food-bribes (he was his father's son, but he hadn't inherited Kuu's legendary stomach). But unlike the many ladies-in-waiting and nobleman's daughters, when Kyoko tried to feed him, she did not coax or bat her lashes at him charmingly. In fact, the bodyguard could be downright disagreeable. Kyoko openly scolded Kuon for not finishing his plate, and was always lecturing him about how his duty to his people, as part of the royal family, included his duty to himself. And because it was her job to take care of him, Kyoko of course counted the Prince's health — including his meals — as part of her job.

And she took her job very, very seriously. Which was why, when Kuon came down with a cold and was ordered to rest by the palace physician, he found Kyoko kneeling beside his bed, her forehead pressed to the ground, and begging him not to blame her employer for her 'egregious and unbecoming unprofessional behavior' and assured the prince that she would banish herself forever from the kingdom as soon as her replacement was installed.

"That will not be necessary," Kuon said firmly, pausing to cough. He gingerly pushed himself up on one elbow and Kyoko was instantly there, helping him up and fluffing the pillows behind him to support his head before throwing herself to the floor again as soon as Kuon was situated. "No one is going to be banished."

"I failed. I failed you, I failed the Duke, and I have failed in my duty to the crown as a—"

"No, you haven't." Kuon sighed heavily. "I haven't been poisoned, or hit by an arrow, or captured and held for ransom. I have a cold. That's it."

"But—"

"Enough." The prince paused again to cough. "I'm not angry with you, I don't think you have failed, and I'm certainly not going to fire you. So you can stop asking."

Kyoko would have bowed, but there was no way she could get any farther into the ground than she already was without a shovel.

"If you feel that bad about it," Kuon grumbled, "then you can help me feel better."

Kyoko was instantly at the side of the bed, still kneeling, but looking up at Kuon with a flushed, worried, face. Her eyes shined with fear and hope, and her fingers were laced together tightly underneath her chin. "What can I do for you?" she pleaded with a strained note in her voice that made Kuon want to groan. "I'll do anything! So—"

Kuon abruptly pulled the blankets over his head, curling up on his side so that he wasn't facing her.

"Prince? Your Highness? Are you alright?" Kyoko popped up, leaning forward over the bed to see his face, reaching out the back of a hand to feel Kuon's forehead. The prince twitched when her hand brushed his face.

"Thirsty," Kuon muttered, before pulling the blankets further over his head. Kyoko nodded, whistling sharply for two guards before sprinting off in the direction of the kitchens.

Once he was certain she was gone, Kuon sighed with relief. He had been freezing only a minute ago, but now having the blankets over his head was much too warm. And his face felt hotter than the worst sunburn he could ever remember. From the fever, he told himself firmly.

Liar. Another voice in his head purred. Are you so over the moon that just a brush from her hand does this?

"I'm an idiot," Kuon mumbled aloud.

"Your Highness? Did you say something?" One of the guards asked cautiously from the foot of the bed.

"Nothing." The prince grumpily turned over again on his ridiculously large bed. "Wake me up when she gets back."

Kyoko returned half an hour later, carrying a steaming tray piled with covered dishes, a full tea pot, a pitcher of water, and a glass of the most dangerous looking liquid Kuon had ever seen. He struggled again to sit up and Kyoko was instantly at his side, putting her shoulder under his to support him as she helped him sit up, seemingly unaware of their closeness or that the prince was only wearing a (partially buttoned) nightshirt.

"What is this?" He asked, suspiciously eyeing the amazing-colored liquid and lifting the glass cautiously to his face.

"It's an ordinary health juice." Kyoko looked sideways as Kuon raised the glass to his lips and took a sip.

"That… was definitely not ordinary." He managed at last, when his stomach stopped protesting.

"I never said it tasted good."

"Everything you make tastes good," Kuon said hoarsely. "You could have at least warned me."

"Who would look at that color and think it tasted good?" Kyoko replied, her face blank. "Now, finish the rest of it. And then we go for a run."

"Huh?"

"It would be better if it was raining out, but we can just soak our shirts beforehand. It should be fine." Kyoko continued as if she hadn't heard his question. She snapped around, towering over Kuon's bed. Or seeming to tower. The prince was sitting up properly to eat, and so Kyoko was barely taller than him.

"Why would we do that?" It wasn't really a question.

"You run the sickness out."

"You what?"

"What?"

They both stared at each other blankly.

"We did it all the time at the academy," Kyoko said at last, breaking the silence.

"I think I'm going to stay here and take a nap," Kuon said easily. "But if you want to go for a run, be my guest."