He could already hear the sounds of chain rattling and fists punching the sandbag as he walks to the Knight's training building, exclusive to the Knights that reside within the walls of the castle. He already knows who is inside, because she's always there during this kind of time.
He pushes the entrance door and enters the building.
And there she is, hammering away at the punching bag. Instead of making his presence known, he decides to stand by and watch silently. She doesn't seem to notice him either, though that is thanks to the silent steps he had nurtured over the years. No one will be bothering them for the next fifteen minutes anyway, so he has some free time.
He silently watches from nearby, watching her fists flying towards the punching bag, alongside with the occasional kicks that are so powerful the punching bag almost goes horizontal from the force. She always has exceptionally powerful kicks, thanks to her power.
She doesn't wear her armor, wearing only small tops and short pants. That gives him the pleasure to leisurely scan his black eyes over her dark skin, glistened with sweat that makes her body shine almost heavenly against the sunlight through the nearby window.
He suppresses the purr that threatens to pass through his throat.
Who knew that his woman is so beautiful with her chiseled body? He couldn't even think how she would look if her form is butter smooth, no muscles.
He's a lucky man, getting Rumi Usagiyama as his woman.
He knows early on that she is a strong woman. Even before she worked out her body, even when she was a little girl, he already believed that she was going to be strong. She's deceptively powerful despite her short height.
His lips twitch as his mind wanders down a memory lane, remembering a little pipsqueak that can, and did, tackle him down easily.
She has not changed, he realizes.
The rattles of the chain finally stop. The empty hall is now filled by the sound of her panting from exertion. He watches as she wipes the sweat from her forehead. Then, she turns around to face him.
"GAH!" she yelps so loud it echoes around the hall when their eyes suddenly meet. He could see the alert in her eyes before the look of recognition finally appears now that she knows who is with her. "Shouta?! Since when have you been here?!" she demands as she tries to recompose herself but he can tell that the exertion from training earlier is slowing it down.
He merely blinks. He continues to stare at her, now at a different angle and different light than before.
Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, he finally realizes. Yet, it somehow beautifully frames her face. Sweats slowly run from her forehead, crossing her cheekbones and down to her chin before they drip away. He could see her breaths slightly fogged up by each pant.
Her red eyes are enrapturing…
"Meet me in my chamber," he says instead of the original intention. Her eyebrows shoot up and she blinks in confusion, unexpected. "It would be nice for you to be there as soon as possible," he adds, not clarifying his words.
And then, he turns around and walks out the building, not looking back if she's already on the move or not. He doesn't need to. She will be there as ordered.
He'll tell her about the political visits tomorrow then.
For now, he'll have her to himself.
.
Usually, when she couldn't find the Prince, it is very likely he is taking a catnap in one of his many hideouts throughout the entire castle. But, there is only one exception. Around early in the morning, before anyone in the Kingdom of Yuuei opens their eyes, their Prince is already on the move.
She heads straight for the Castle Knight's Training Hall. As soon as she opens the door, she can already hear the only occupant inside. Instead of making her presence known, she stops on the spot and stares.
The Prince, Shouta, her man whom she is in love with, is not what he looks now rather than what he looked like when he was a kid. He doesn't look like what she remembers back then, at least in a physical sense. He still has that haggard black hair. He still has that deadpan look on his face. He still has those tired black eyes. But his physique…
She still admits, even after so many years had passed since becoming his royal bodyguard, especially getting quite physical with him, she is still not used to seeing the crowned Prince to be quite the beefcake that he is.
Not only is he chiseled (the hair on her tail stands on end just at the thought) and solidly hard like stone (her tail wiggles in excitement but she tries to suppress it), he's also very broad. It's almost comically disproportional when comparing his height with just how wide he is, due to how deceptively muscular he is.
But her reason why she's not used to seeing him with his chiseled body is pretty justified. His uniform, while perfectly cut and fitted for his form, completely hides his bulging muscles. He also wears a gray cloak that has an unusual wrapping around his neck (almost like a scarf) instead of the usual cape, further hiding his physical stature. They give the illusion that, while wide, he is nothing impressive underneath. And to make matters worse, he prefers to wear baggy clothes whenever he is not in his uniform, further hiding his actual physical form.
The first time he took off his shirt around her, she dropped whatever she was holding, along with her jaw. To say she was stunned was an understatement.
Her cheeks had never been so red.
And she had never been so hungry, ever before.
And then, there's the fact that he also knows how to use his fists.
He can fight, and he is extremely capable, to the point she wonders if he even needs a bodyguard in the first place.
She knows that fact because, right now, she is watching him sending fists flying on the punching bag in the Knight training building. Unlike her, who prefers to whale away on the target as hard and as fast as she could, he is much more calculative with his shots.
Efficient is his mantra. No blows are wasted, one hit fluidly blends to the next making combos with zero wastes. He prefers to finish it as quickly as possible with the most effective strategies he could come up with. He's not as kick happy as her, but she had witnessed him weaponize his shoulders (his shoulders) in a few fights.
He had been training vigorously, she found out. It is to be expected. As the Prince of Yuuei, he has a constant target on his back. But as the son of King Nedzu, not only are there significantly more marks on him, they are also significantly bigger. He's a vulnerable (Shouta? Vulnerable? Don't make her laugh) target for assassination, and she had successfully stopped most of them, while the remaining he stopped them himself.
He also has that asshole-ish attitude due to his brutally blunt nature, never pulling back his punches (figuratively and literally). He makes quite a lot of enemies thanks to that, and that has led to them trying to spark up some controversy regarding the prince. Thankfully, they always fail because he has so much support, mainly from children who somehow are fond of him.
She still enjoys the pleasure of watching the complete bafflement when the Prince had easily taken them down on his own, what little scuffles he had landed on without her involvement in any of them. He's fluid in his motion, nothing goes to waste.
As she watches him punching the bag, it feels time has slowed down. As the sun begins to peek out from the horizon, light begins to enter the building through the windows.
The cast light shows that he's topless, a rare sight (except for during their time), showing his bare back to her. It's glistened with sweat, reflected by the slowly appearing light. Beads of sweats are running down his back until they soak the hem of his pants, bulged muscles clench with each punch thrown.
She crosses one leg over the other tightly.
She is very aware that she's staring with hungry, lustful eyes.
It is still unbelievable to think she used to be able to wrap her arms around him so easily back then, while now her fingers can barely even meet.
He has changed, she realizes.
He suddenly stops and straightens up, shoulders heave up and down as he pants. The sound of muffled heavy impacts and rattling chains are no more, replaced by deep pants, white noises and the chirps of the early birds. When he finally turns around to face her, he doesn't look surprised (or he hides it well because he has an incredible façade), meaning he already knew she had been here the whole time.
He doesn't tie his hair up, she realizes, after he pushes his bang back with one hand.
"Is there something I was not aware of?" he asks her, paraphrasing on why she is here at this time looking for him when usually she isn't. She's about to answer but her eyes instinctively trail down to his chest.
Words disappear from her parted lips. Thoughts are completely empty from her mind.
And her red eyes immediately dilate.
She lifts them up to meet his.
Red clashes with black.
She wordlessly approaches him.
He raises an eyebrow.
Then she starts shedding her armor.
And his eyes widened, finally breaking that façade of his.
.
Under the warm sun, in the middle of a clearing field hidden in a forest, a secret place known only to two young children, a boy and a girl, are sitting on a tree stump. A tiny bunny with white hair is giving the black haired boy a critical eye, looking at him up and down.
"You're a stick," the girl comments, picking up the arm of her companion and inspecting it against his will. She feels the arm through the sleeve and her face scrunches into a grimace of disappointment.
"I'm not," the black haired boy denies, trying to pull back his arm but the girl holds on tight. She suddenly pulls back the sleeve, revealing the bare arm. Her face quickly morphs into near disgust.
"You're a walking stick," she reinforces her words as her lips curl down at just how boney his arm looks. It further fortifies when she is able to wrap her stubby fingers around his thin wrist.
"Ru-Ru, I'm barely twelve," the boy tries to defend himself but it only makes his companion snort.
"And I am nine but I bet I could take you down," she tells him confidently, finally letting go of his arm.
"Of course you could, squirt," he replies, teasing her.
"I'm not small!" the girl protests, giving him a glare alongside with her lips jutting out. The boy bites the inside of his lips, trying not to smile at the cute pout.
"Ru-Ru, you barely reached my shoulder. You're a squirt."
He has zero warning when the little girl out of sudden tackles him down with a war cry. The pair falls down from the tree stump, rolling over the soft grass before they finally stop, with the girl straddling the boy's chest victoriously.
"Ha! See! You're so weak because you're a stick!" the girl proclaims with her arms crossed over her chest and her nose raises high. The boy releases a quiet sigh and lets his body relax. He lets her cheer her victory, letting her laugh boisterously, because she is correct. He couldn't retaliate, he admits.
He also admits that she is strong even if she is still in the single digits. It makes him wonder just how strong she will be in the future, when she grows up and gets proper training.
But all thoughts quickly leave his mind. His mind is now occupied with only one single line of thought.
She also looks beautiful at where she is right now.