Midsummer Ambedance - A Free! Fantasy AU

The Morning of May the Seventeenth

The lavish plate of pastries and golden-fried bread sat in front of him, calling him. Eat me, eat me. But all he did was sit there scraping flakes off a croissant with his fork. He rested his head in his hand, the palm cupping his ear protectively. His elbow curled wrinkles in the laced tablecloth as everyone looked on with disapproving glares.

"Elbows off the table, Haruka," the black-haired woman across from him spoke, trying to be gentle but accidentally spitting out a disengaged command. There was no form of emotion in her voice: a voice Haruka knew all too well. How could he not? This is only way his mother spoke to him.

"Elbow," he sassed right back. "I only have one elbow on the table. No plural." He dragged his arm down to his side with an inward groan like a child told to put a toy back where they found it. Two pairs of piercing blue eyes shot anger at him.

"Don't speak to me like that, young man," she snapped quietly. The red-haired maiden was seated beside her, and the last thing she wanted was to alarm her. She needed to make a good example of her son. But he, as always, was being difficult. It was a seemingly eternal battle between Haruka and his mother, their conflicting morals and opinions, Haruka's lack of concern for everything, his mother's lack of human connection every mother owes her son.

Kou bent her head, nonchalantly cutting up some fried bread. She didn't want to make them to make a scene, and staying quiet was probably the best option. Arguments were, luckily, usually avoided since Haruka stopped talking after the second sentence. Every so often though, there would be an outburst and a full-on war would commence over the dining table. Kou's presence was enough for his mother to push back her poisonous words, clamp her tongue and slip another white cube into her tea.

The meal continued for ten minutes or so, until the sound of the door opening, the sound of the wood and metal and dragging across wool, creaked around the hall. Everyone except his father, out of respect, ducked their head: even Haruka. Then equally firm and light feet began to step, crossing past and behind the two women and towards the head of the table: to the king. As he did, he lightly brushed his fingers over Kou's shoulders and she shivered, a gesture she knew too well. She flicked around in surprise.

"Brother," she whispered, only to have a worried glance returned by the queen. He smirked a mischievous smile quickly, but almost instantly returned to his serious-mannered self. He and Haruka's father spoke in hushed voices as if trying to keep a secret, until his father let out a cackling roar and slammed his fist joyously onto the table. Kou jumped.

"Haru," the boy flicked his eyes in the general direction of the voice. His mother gave him an offended look. "You've heard of this man, correct?" Haruka blinked in reply, pissed off at the use of his nickname. Only one person had ever been allowed to call him Haru, and it was certainly not his father or his mother. "This is Matsuoka. He's one of our squadron generals. Excellent fighter. He and I have made a deal to allow him a few weeks of paid leave to teach you how to fence and such."

Behind his lopsided black fringe, Haruka's eyes opened wide, bigger than marbles. He barely managed to choke down the mouthful he'd been steadily chewing the whole time the conversation was going on. He recognised this man. He'd got in good with the royal family. He was half the reason Haruka had been betrothed to the girl he had. One simple reason, one thing that made Haruka automatically despise the very sound of his voice.

He was Kou's big brother. Rin Matsuoka, soldier and all-around obnoxious, competitive asshole and Haruka couldn't stand the sight of him. That cocky smile with those inhumanly sharp teeth and his overgrown purple-red hair and his piercing red eyes. Haruka shuddered at the thought of those smiles and winks being directed towards him. He might have to "accidentally" cut off a limb or two of his.

Matsuoka threw one of those smiles in Haruka's direction. That was the last straw. He seized one last slice of bread and stood up, his chair dragging across the carpet. The vibrations made him shiver. He almost threw the chair back into place and he sauntered as angrily as he could out of the dining hall. He wanted to make a scene. He wanted to show his anger. He wanted to try anything he could to get out of this. He couldn't stand it. The thought of Matusoka - no. It was disgusting.

He leaned against the doors, hands still white-knuckle bearing down on the handles. He groaned rather than sighed. Why? Why? He asked himself over and over. As down to earth as he regarded himself to be, he was still a silver-spoon fed prince who had the world at his knees, and was used to getting his way in every way. So he didn't take kindly to being forced into anything.

"High - Haruka!"

Makoto caught up to him with long, deep breaths. He must have run all the way down the corridor to catch up to him. He leaned over, clutching his knees for a second, then cocked his head and smiled in momentary relief. The prince felt his breath tighten. He held the left hem of his shirt between his thumb and finger, twisting it up into a ball and letting it unravel again and again. He looked straight ahead, just to the side of Makoto's shoulder.

Those green eyes searched him up and down, flickering with concern. Haruka resisted the burning temptation to stare back into them. They were searching for words that he could never find the way to say. They had known each other for so long, yet had barely exchanged words. They communicated in other ways. It wasn't like Haruka didn't want to talk, no: he simply couldn't fathom a way to formulate syllables and grammar into a coherent sentence - and it wasn't because he was stupid; far from it, in fact. There must have been some defect in his mind that prevented him from adapting socially. It was something beyond his reasoning how a person could mould and fit into a crowd and change a topic so easily and join in with everyone and everything - something that Kou was exceedingly skilful at. So perhaps it was something wrong with him, or the attitude of the whole world around him, but Haruka had never found himself bearing an actual friend. And when he had...

He had found himself wanting more than just a friend.

It was the harsh reality that he had to face.

"What's wrong?" Makoto snapped him out of his trance. He expressed a slight encouraging smile, mild and placid. Free of judgment. Haruka could trust him with words; not that he had a habit of saying them.

"What gives you the idea that something's wrong?" He attempted at a cover. Badly.

"Because you slammed the door like you were trying to break it off the wall," he replied with a short breath of awkward laughter. He still had to watch his words. Haruka shot him a look: not necessarily angry or annoyed - a warning. Not that Haruka would take action if given sass.

"Two words," the prince retorted, out of his own begrudging anger. He practically spat the name. "Rin Matsuoka." Makoto felt his eyes open wider. Matsuoka?

"Miss Kou's brother?" Makoto probed further. "What has he done?"

"He's teaching me to fence," Haruka barely hissed it. The very thought of Matsuoka, with his hair and his smile all mixed with the idea of fighting and exercise made him shudder with abhorrence. "Fath - The King - ugh - stupid bastard."

By this time they were walking down the corridor, and Haruka, now finished talking, pulled out his last slice of toast. Makoto couldn't exactly give a reply to this? What did he expect him to say? Agree with him? Most likely, but that could get him into all kinds of trouble with all kinds of people, and we wasn't about to give up this position. Besides, Haruka... he needed Makoto.

"I think it'll be good for you," he incited gently, trying to enliven him again. Some brightness in the blue was restored. "And besides, Matsuoka isn't that bad. He's good at fighting, and you'll be in safe hands - huh?!" He staggered backwards as something warm and salty was pushed into his mouth with extreme sudden force. Haruka continued to walk on, not bothering to turn back.

Makoto mumbled through the thing between his teeth, seeking some enlightenment as to its identity. Warm... it was food, and salty... that was butter. Bread... it was toast. Haruka had shoved the toast in his mouth to shut him up. "Haruka! What was that for?"

"To keep you quiet," Haruka replied indifferently. "You talk a lot of shit sometimes."