𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗟𝗨𝗧𝗘 ;; ᵈᵉᵏᵘᵇᵃᵏᵘ

#01

☆﹏𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴..﹏☆

Long ago, during the time of Ancient Vietnam, lived a very wealthy mandarin who only had, but one son, name Katsuki Bakugou. With a face as beautiful as lotus blossoms, the mandarin treasured his son dearly more than all the riches he own. Because he loves him so much and wished that no harm would ever befall him, he kept him in his room on top of his grand mansion sitting on a hilltop, and was never allowed to leave.

Day and night, the beautiful boy would stay in his room, clothed with the finest gowns of silk, adorned by the servants with all the delicious meals and entertained by the best musicians and poets in the kingdom with melodies and ballads that delights the heart. 

But all of his joys were confined inside his beautiful chamber. He had never set foot on the dewy grass, his hands never had plucked fruits from trees, his fingers never had run the trickling river nor she ever played and told stories with other children apart from his loyal servants. The only sunlight that ever touched his cheeks was the few pale beams that peeked through his royal window.

One day, Katsuki sat by the window, looking at the rivers below and enjoying the sight of the charming boats gliding gracefully across the water, one small ghe caught his eye. From afar, he could see how the boatman stood and skillfully steered the ghe into the water's most serene spot, sat, and placed a bamboo flute against his lips. Soon after, the most haunting, beautiful melody the boy had ever heard drifted up to his window. 

The music from the tiny flute was as soothing as the sound of the gentle breeze, the flowing river and the nightingale's hymn beautifully blended into heart-warming tones that deeply touched the boy's heart. As he watched and listened, the boy imagined how young, strong and handsome the boatman could be up close. 

And all that day, the mandarin's son stayed by the window until the sun began to set over the tall mountains beside the river. He watched as the boatman steered his ghe away until he was nowhere in sight.

That night, he dreamt of the same beautiful melody and pictured himself stepping into the boat with a young man. Both, they drifted along the calm and quiet river while the full moon lit above them. He dreamt that the boatman explained to him all the strange and wonderful sights that unfolded before them. 

For the first time, he had seen the things only made known to his from the poet's tales. He'd touched the cool river water trailing beside the boat, he'd feel the gentle kiss of evening breeze against his cheeks and he smelled the sweet fragrance of wild orchids that hang from the trees as they sailed by.

A smile flickered across his lips as he dreamt on. Climbing out of the boat, the young man held him by his strong arms and at the sight of the meadow, he would ran across to pluck wild berries while enjoying the gentle feel of fresh grass brushing against his feet.

 The pleasantly sour taste of newly-plucked berries was far more delightful than any other fruits adorned on his table. He felt the young man tightly holding his as the loud, trembling roar the green-eyed tiger echoed from the jungle - only to awaken to the sound of the brass gong.

Right after he hopped off his gentle bed, the mandarin's don walked straight to the window and looked below, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tiny ghe once again. His heart beat fast at the sight of the little boat and when the haunting music from the boatman's bamboo flute began to float up to his window, his heart melted. 

Again, he remained by the window the whole day until he knew the tunes he played by heart. Whenever the boat comes close to the foot of the hill, he'd drops little flower petals, hoping the wind would carry them to the boatman.

From afar, the boatman had caught one of the petals blown along by the wind. He could see a tiny figure by the window of the huge mansion atop the hill. He could tell it was a boy, but could only guess what he might look like. For him, knowing he was listening to his music made him pour his heart and soul into every melody.

One day, a gentleman he was ferrying across the river noticed the fine quality of his music and asked the boatman to whom he plays his bamboo flute for. The boatman smiled timidly and looked towards the tiny window on the hill.