it's awkward, and it is the last time that they have a family portrait taken with their father before he dies. Zen wiggles slightly as if to escape the gentle pressure of his father near him; he's young, and his blue eyes are wide.
He just wants to run about and play, not be stuck doing the boring task of a family portrait. And his mother's hand rests on his shoulder, Zen, be still.
And when he looks over, even his brother looks so much older and directs him to look back at the painter. Zen doesn't like to be this still, and yet he stills himself a little bit more as the painter paints another stroke or two.
Zen contemplates what happens after. One day, he'll somewhat wish that he lived in the moment then and somewhat wish he didn't. Just it gets complicated sometimes after a death, but before one, he hadn't anticipated what would come after.
Just he wanted to be free to run around, not stay for another family portrait. They aren't too common, but they happen every now and again. And then they go up to replace the old ones. Zen remembers once uncovering some from before he was born and one where he was a baby and looked so quiet and calm and content.
It's odd to see a glimpse of the time before he entered his family and also the time when he did, but he can't quite remember that portrait.
He stills and watches the painter, wishing that he could see the painting at work, that would be much more interesting than having to stay still and watch a painter. His mother sighs behind him, and Zen's face looks more apologetic than happy.
And the painter is more focused on capturing Izana right now, from the way he stares at the older prince and paints carefully. Perhaps seeing a king from the young boy already. And Zen feels more and more like he doesn't belong in his own family portrait.
But he stays still and doesn't leave the family gathering. He's a part of it, just even now a somewhat unwilling part.