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It’s the sort of sun-blazing, scorching hot day where Shuichi’s uncle would strongly advise that he take a break from training—or at the very least, take frequent breaks while he practises—but Shuichi ignores both that piece of advice and the very sun that burns overhead in favour of trekking down to the training court, his sword swinging in its sheath at his waist, his armour strapped tight to his chest and legs.
Shuichi isn’t even necessarily prone to overwork. There have been times when he’s gone overboard or lost sight of himself in his attempts to meet a goal or complete an objective, but he doesn’t push it too hard in the training court on principle. As much as Shuichi does value hard work (does understand the gravity of his position enough to want to work hard) he also understands that being in top physical condition will be vital to fulfilling his role. If he himself can barely stay on two feet, how could he ever expect to keep the prince safe? It’s just not happening.
As things stand right now, however, it seems Shuichi is completely incapable of the latter already, so the idea of tapping out today without at least five hours of work—sun or no sun—is just out of the question. Kaito is busy with his studies right now, accompanied not only by a few of the other knights (Rantaro, Gonta, and more recently Harukawa Maki who Shuichi doesn’t completely trust but knows is at least placated enough at the moment not to act out) but by the tall palace walls and countless advisors, so he should be relatively safe for the next few hours. Just enough that Shuichi can afford to step away from his post at Kaito’s side and get in some much-needed training.
Not that Shuichi has been of much use from his station to begin with. Grimacing, Shuichi adjusts the straps on his armour before drawing his sword, approaching one of the many training dummies. The past few days, he’s trained with the other knights, and even some of the squires who come around here a few times a week, but given the weather Shuichi wouldn’t want to ask anyone else to come down here with him. It’s not like any of them were there when Kaito almost died last week—they’re not the ones who need the practise so terribly.
Familiar frustration and guilt bubble under the surface of Shuichi’s skin. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, then reaffirms his hold on his sword. Sulking about this won’t help. At least, doing so in excess shouldn’t. Shuichi has found that running over the event in his head does aid in motivating him to keep going even when he’s tired, but just dwelling on his failure isn’t very productive. It’s best to focus on the facts of what happened, what he could’ve done differently, so he knows what specific skills to hone.
Specifically, there had been a distinct moment last week when Shuichi could have protected Kaito. The attack had come out of nowhere, while they were in Kaito’s study; Kaito was telling Shuichi about his latest astronomy lesson, and Shuichi was admittedly distracted by the prince himself, the way his eyes lit up and his hands whirled around as he explained concepts, the way his cheeks dimpled with his smile. Not so distracted that Shuichi was completely unaware of his surroundings, but he was certainly taken by surprise when a lithe assassin came in through the window.
She had moved fast, red eyes gleaming from under the large hood she was wearing. Kaito had been unfazed, merely leaning back with slightly widened eyes when she drew a dagger to press to his throat, but Shuichi himself had frozen, his heart beating painfully loud in his chest. It made sense, really; while Kaito had dealt with countless assassination attempts in the past, while that was in fact the very way his own parents died, Shuichi had never come face to face with such an obvious threat on the prince’s life before. Not until that moment.
He had unfrozen when the assassin moved her elbow, managing to rush over and fight her off. Their fight didn’t last long, but Shuichi managed to disarm her just long enough to put the tip of his own sword against her throat, backing her into the window. When he opened his mouth to question her, his voice refused to come out. His shoulders locked, his hand shook. The blade at the assassin’s throat dipped, and she took the opportunity to dart out from underneath, pushing Shuichi aside and resuming her earlier position threatening the prince.
It had been Kaito’s quick wit alone that saved his life. He asked her if she wanted to join his personal guard, and the assassin had been so flabbergasted that Kaito managed to knock the dagger back out of her hand. (Kaito had been serious about his offer, though, even going so far as to offer to keep the truth of how they met a secret in order to get her on the team. Shuichi’s not in the habit of questioning his prince, but that move was just bewildering; he couldn’t blame Harukawa Maki for the way she’d gaped at Kaito in the aftermath, outright disbelieving.)
It took place over the span of maybe ten or so minutes. Under ten minutes, and Kaito could’ve died, had his throat slit or his head bashed or a dagger driven through his unprotected ribs—he really could have just died, and Shuichi would’ve just watched it happen from where he lay, prone on the floor, unable to regather himself enough to protect the one person he cares about most in the world.
Kaito isn’t angry at him. Shuichi knows this, because Kaito has always been terrible at hiding upset feelings. When something is wrong he tends to avoid eye contact, avoid speaking entirely, dodging common spaces and making excuses every time you try to communicate. Shuichi has been on the receiving end of that anger before, which is why he knows that Kaito doesn’t feel even a little bit like that this time. After Maki was incapacitated, Kaito strolled over and helped Shuichi off the floor, one arm slinging over his shoulders while the other ruffled his hair. He even asked if Shuichi was okay.
Shuichi grits his teeth and ends up taking the head off the training dummy he’s sparring with. Okay. Of course he’s okay—he’s alive, Kaito is alive, neither of them even got hurt. But Shuichi failed. His first real run-in with an actual threat to Kaito’s life, and he completely fumbled it. Kaito had to protect himself. He should never have to do that, not as long as Shuichi is there.
Sweat beads on Shuichi’s forehead as he moves onto another dummy. The straps of his armour are beginning to dig into his shoulders and hips, chafing with every large movement he makes. He doesn’t slow, though. It had been his hesitation, Shuichi had decided, that ultimately caused his failure. His hesitation to finish Maki off, his hesitation to jump off the floor after he was tossed aside, whichever way you look at it Shuichi failed because he just couldn’t follow through. He couldn’t commit. Kaito would have died because Shuichi couldn’t commit.
It’s always been his problem. Even during practice rounds, Shuichi struggles to go for the decisive blow, be it a swat with the blunt side of his sword or sending his opponent’s weapon flying—he knows the techniques, he knows logically how he’s meant to finish battles, it’s just…
Something about seeing the eyes of his opponents makes his throat close up. Not just people he knows, either. Shuichi has gone toe to toe with people invading the palace, both thieves and hitmen—he’s faced off against wild animals and malicious attacks down in the village—almost every time, consistently, Shuichi has struggled to do what needs to be done. Usually, it doesn’t end up mattering, because Shuichi almost always has someone else there with him, be it his uncle or another member of the royal guard… but as Kaito’s personal guard, it isn’t as though Shuichi can afford on other people to be cleaning up his messes. Not when something so important is hanging the balance. (Although granted, Shuichi shouldn’t be relying on that kind of support to begin with.)
His tongue has begun to dry out, making it progressively more difficult to swallow. He forgot to bring down water, which is admittedly an embarrassing oversight, but he’s too focused in now to go back to fix it. As Shuichi trains, his palm begins to sting where the hilt of his sword rubs against it. His neck and back ache. His clothing is stuck to his skin with sweat, and the areas covered by his armour are even more uncomfortable. Shuichi’s muscles beg him for a break.
Something about the pain is almost vindicating, though. Working this hard feels good when he’s angry at himself—feels cathartic. Stopping when he doesn’t feel better yet would just be irresponsible; he probably hasn’t even been out here for that long. He can go a little bit longer. Just ten more minutes… five more minutes… three more strokes of his sword…
Somewhere along the line, Shuichi’s vision starts to blur. His head aches almost as terribly as his neck and shoulders do. His grip weakens on his sword. He doesn’t stop moving, but he becomes aware of the increasing difficult he has in lifting his usually well-balanced blade, the way every movement seems to fight him, the way it gets harder and harder to draw in breath…
Distantly, Shuichi registers the sound of metal hitting concrete as his fingers close around nothing. The world around him is edged with black and starting to sway, a faint groan slipping from his lips as his knees buckle.
He’s out cold just after he hits the warm ground.
When Shuichi regains consciousness, it’s to the gentle throb of a headache right beneath his sinuses, and also the cool relief of a wet rag lying against his forehead. The conflicting sensations are difficult to focus on at first, but at least they paint a conclusive picture: Shuichi passed out, and someone found him.
Though not yet fully aware of his surroundings, Shuichi can still register embarrassment as he lets out a weak groan and rolls over onto his side. He’s in a bed with soft sheets pulled over him, and the mattress beneath his back is much softer than the one he usually sleeps on. More indulgent, in a way that, while not his usual fare, is still somewhat familiar to him. Familiar too is the smell that clings to the sheets, the slightest whiff of rosemary and something more distinctive…
Ah. Shuichi shoots bolt upright, the rag falling from his face as his eyes fly open. The quick movement startles the bed’s owner, who is reading a book at his bedside; Prince Kaito nearly drops his book when he jumps, his own eyes opening quite wide.
“Shuichi? What’s the matter?”
“Your Highness, I—” Shuichi’s voice catches in his throat, shame making his face flare with heat. “You had to go to the trouble of finding me and bringing me here… I’m so sorry for the waste of your time, and any worry I might’ve—”
“Hey, hey, easy,” Kaito insists, putting up a hand. He’s shed some of the layers he usually wears, dressed now in only a simple white tunic and dark pants. A glance through the window where the curtains are still drawn reveals that it’s dark outside. Kaito has probably been in here unwinding, or perhaps getting in some late-night study… All the while, Shuichi has slept on blissfully in his bed. Stomach twisting with guilt, Shuichi climbs off the mattress. “Look, you didn’t waste my time, I just got wondering where you were at after my lesson ended, and Rantaro said you’d probably be training, so…”
Despite the reasonable explanation, Shuichi shakes his head, swallowing past the lump building in his throat. “Still, you had to take care of me… It wasn’t you who was forced to bring me here, was it?”
Kaito’s brow furrows, and his arms fold across his chest. “Technically I wasn’t forced to do anything.”
“But it was you.” Shuichi can’t help but grimace before dropping his head into his hands. It’s not professional. Having this kind of overreaction in front of the prince is just completely improper, and then there’s the fact that he allowed himself to end up in this situation to begin with. Another groan escapes him, this time muffled by the palms of his hands. “Your Highness, I am so sorry—”
“Man, if you call me that again, I’m gonna get angry,” Kaito scoffs. “You didn’t make me do anything. I saw you out cold and yeah, I worried, but it’s not like I would’ve wanted someone else looking after you while you were like that. It’s no big deal.”
The way Kaito says it, Shuichi can tell that he’s being honest—just like Shuichi has been able to tell for the past week or so that Kaito isn’t angry at him. Yet the lump in his throat only thickens, and when Shuichi opens his mouth to tell Kaito that he understands, that he’s grateful, he find that he can’t quite force the words out. He can barely bring himself to make a sound at all, in fact.
With his hands covering his eyes, Shuichi can’t tell what kind of reaction Kaito has to his lack of a response until he hears the chair creaking as the prince stands. Padding noises announce Kaito’s approach and then halt, presumably when Kaito is standing right in front of Shuichi.
A part of Shuichi is ashamed to look, but it would be worse to keep covering his face with his prince right there, so after letting out a quiet breath, Shuichi picks his head back up, biting his lower lip. Kaito is staring down at him with obvious concern, his usually relaxed expression set into more of a pout. There’s a wrinkle in his brow and it’s so uncharacteristic of Kaito that Shuichi is tempted to reach up and smooth it out, but it wouldn’t be his place. It’s not his place to be here to begin with, to be making Kaito worry about him—it seems like no matter what Shuichi does, he’s doomed to mess everything up.
“Shuichi, what’s the matter?” Kaito asks quietly.
“Nothing! I just overestimated myself today,” Shuichi explains quickly. “Umm—I won’t let it become a problem again, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me, Your Hi—Kaito, I’m going to be alright, I just—”
“Not that.” Kaito shakes his head, waving a hand. “Or I guess… sure. I’m wondering why you overworked yourself so bad you passed out. But that didn’t start today, did it?” He folds his arms. “Whatever it is, it’s making you act like a real rag right now, so you gotta tell me what’s going on.”
It’s hardly Kaito’s job to deal with Shuichi when his emotions are out of control. Shuichi frowns and looks away, trying to figure out how to respond. As much as he doesn’t want to try and use the prince as someone to confide in, it would probably be worse to lie to him… So how is Shuichi supposed to navigate this? Should he tell Kaito that it isn’t his business? It’s very much his business. Having an inept personal guard could mean Kaito getting killed in the future, he deserves to know that Shuichi is trying to better himself, it’s just…
“Shuichi,” Kaito adds, softer again. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“You don’t—” Shuichi winces. “You don’t have to look after me, Kaito. That’s my job, not yours.”
“Okay, but we’re not at a social function right now, dude.” Kaito pulls a face. “You’re not on duty. You can tell me what’s up and we can go back to the jobs and crap in the morning.”
That’s not how this works. Shuichi never goes off duty, not when Kaito still needs to be kept safe. Not when people like Harukawa Maki and the assassin who killed Kaito’s parents are out there. But… when Shuichi lifts his gaze back to Kaito’s, perhaps against his better judgement, he sees that Kaito’s lilac eyes are shining with concern. His lips are slightly pursed, that crease still present in his brow. He just looks so worried. Maybe Shuichi is making this worse on him by not spilling.
Shuichi’s shoulders sag. “I… I’m just trying to make up for failing you last week.”
“Failing me?” Kaito’s face scrunches, like he’s trying to remember what Shuichi could possibly be referring to. “What do you mean, failing m—oh, wait.” His eyes widen slightly. “You mean with Harumaki?”
The fact that Kaito already has a nickname for her is kind of mindblowing. Shuichi lets out a quiet laugh, but nods. “Right, yes. Um… I just can’t afford to let something like that happen to you again, Kaito. You could have died, if it wasn’t for your own quick thinking, and you shouldn’t have to rely on that with me there. You should be able to trust that I can protect you, and I just… didn’t.”
His voice has grown thick, vision blurring with tears at the thought that he could lose Kaito due to his own negligence. Prince or not, Kaito is his best friend and has been for as long as Shuichi can remember. Losing him… would be like losing a piece of himself. It would be unbearable. Shuichi rests a hand against his chest and presses down, as if to lessen the ache, but it doesn’t do very much to help. The possibility of losing Kaito is just as real now as it was yesterday, and as it will be tomorrow.
“I need be better,” Shuichi continues quietly. “I need to be good enough—I won’t stop training until that’s true.”
“I—” Kaito seems at a loss for words for a moment. He opens and closes his mouth, then furrows his brow. “Shuichi, you can train all you want, but if it’s at a point where you’re passing out, then don’t you think that’s kinda overkill?”
“No,” and now a sort of heat enters Shuichi’s voice, a slight tremor, “no, it isn’t. It isn’t enough. I’m still not better. I still hesitate. If I couldn’t fight under conditions like today’s, then I’m no good to you. I’m useless.”
He spits the word with so much venom he almost startles himself, and he clearly startles Kaito too, because Kaito doesn’t respond to that, just staring at Shuichi with wide eyes. It’s almost a little satisfying, knowing that his words are so true that Kaito doesn’t have an instant rebuttal like has to similar concerns in the past, but it does sting a bit. Maybe even Kaito knows, somewhere in his chest, even if he doesn’t hold it against Shuichi. He has no use for a guard that can’t even protect him from danger. That’s just the way it is.
Kaito swallows, audibly. When Shuichi looks at his face, he sees that Kaito’s lower lip is trembling a bit. “Shuichi, you can’t… possibly think that’s true.”
His voice sounds so fragile, Shuichi almost hesitates to respond, but he just has to correct him— “It is true, Kaito, I’m not—”
“No, it’s not!” Kaito yells. Shuichi blinks back, stunned by the raise in volume, and Kaito winces. It’s his turn to cover his face with his hands, taking a loud breath before he lifts his head again. His eyes are slightly red. “I’m—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. But—no, it’s not. You couldn’t be further from useless, Shu.”
The old nickname makes Shuichi’s stomach hurt, just a little. He has to look away. “How do you mean?”
“I don’t…” Kaito trails off, letting out a weak-sounding chuckle. “Shuichi, how many members of the Royal Guard were hired back when my parents are alive? Do you remember?”
It feels like something of an abrupt topic change, but Shuichi still wracks his brain for the answer. “Um… of course, there’s my uncle, but…”
“Right.” Kaito’s arms drop to his sides. “It’s just you and your uncle, and your uncle works training new recruits, so really it’s just you. You remember what happened after that fifth assassination attempt, back when I was ten?”
This one, Shuichi doesn’t have to think about. “Almost everyone who was still there stepped down from the position.”
“Yeah. Nobody wanted to guard me.” Kaito looks away. “And I don’t blame ‘em. A prince with a target on his back? Being his personal guard sounds like a freakin’ death wish. I’d have run too if it were me. But you…” He turns back to Shuichi with another audible swallow. “You didn’t go anywhere. You didn’t even hesitate. You insisted you’d stay, even though you were so young at the time, and then after that, I—I kept expecting you to get tired of all of it and take off eventually, but you never did. You’ve been here all along.”
“I—of course I have, Kaito,” Shuichi says, confused. “I would never leave your side.”
Kaito’s lips are trembling again. “Yeah. Of course you wouldn’t. So how can you call yourself useless?”
Shuichi’s throat feels suddenly dry. “But…”
“How can you say that you—that you’re no good to me, when you’re—” Kaito takes a sharp breath through his nose, as if fighting off tears. “When you’re all I’ve got from back then? Don’t act like you passin’ out during training or me taking you back here and looking after you is ever gonna be a bother for me. I could do all that stuff forever and it still wouldn’t come close to what you’ve done for me.” He picks at one of the sleeves on his tunic. “Hell, I don’t care how close Harumaki came to killing me last week. You were still there. That’s why I even knew how to find my voice in the first place.”
Much like they were a few moments ago, Shuichi’s own eyes are stinging again. He has to swallow, but it doesn’t really help, so instead he lifts a hand to his mouth and breaths through it. Of course, something like that would feel invaluable to Kaito; he acts like it isn’t true, but Shuichi can tell he misses his parents and everyone else from his childhood every day that he spends without them. It weighs on him, just as it’s weighed on Shuichi from time to time…
Still, though, “But what does that matter if I can’t do the duty I stuck around to fulfil?” Shuichi whispers. “I can’t lose you… I have to be good enough to keep you safe.”
“And that’s fine,” Kaito huffs, “you can train all you want, just don’t—run yourself into the ground for me, or act like you being here doesn’t have a point yet. It does. Just being here at all is the point, you know?”
Shuichi presses his hand against his mouth so his lips dig into his teeth. He tries to swallow again, but his throat is just getting too impossibly thick. He knows—he knows that no matter what purpose he fulfils for Kaito emotionally, what matters is keeping him physically safe. Kaito can appreciate him however much he wants and that won’t change the facts, and the facts are that right now, Shuichi isn’t where he needs to be.
But maybe… maybe that doesn’t mean he’s useless overall. Shuichi nods, and to his horror feels his eyes start to well up. Kaito must see it too, because he strides forward, closing the remaining distance between them and wrapping his arms tight around Shuichi.
“I can’t stand hearing you talk about yourself like that,” Kaito mutters. “If you had any idea how much you mean to me…”
Shuichi sniffles, lifting his hands to grasp at Kaito’s tunic. “I-I have some idea,” he manages, but it’s too hard to speak beyond that, so he doesn’t try. Instead he closes his eyes and sags in Kaito’s arms, letting some of the residual exhaustion from before take him over as he loses himself in the embrace.
Maybe if he holds tightly enough to Kaito, then… he can let that be his way of saying thanks instead.