Silver (Victuuri)

Wisteria

We lay our scene many, many years ago, in a kingdom filled with flowers by the sea. There were lush green fields and expansive rice paddies, with forests in between that held hidden secrets. The people who resided in the realm were kind and kept mostly to themselves. The king and queen were compassionate and just, beloved by many. Their eldest progeny was a princess, who was wise for her age and would certainly become an excellent leader, though she would only inherit half of the kingdom.

The other half would go to the king and queen's other child, a son. His name was Katsuki Yuuri, and he was rather timid and anxious. He often wondered how he would be able to rule a country when he had a difficult time working up the courage to even speak to foreign diplomats, let alone negotiate with them. When he was younger, he had foolishly hoped that his worries would disappear with time. Unfortunately, he had not; he was of age, and still had a tough time making even simple decisions.

Yuuri sighed, foot shaking under his thigh as he kneeled. He was in another tedious war "council," although "argument" was a more suitable word. All of the military leaders cared very deeply about keeping their citizens safe, they just had widely differing opinions on how to do that. There was frequent passionate quarreling and glowers made of knives; once Yuuri was subjected to a man's animated recitation of a haiku that he had personally written on why his strategy was the most superior.

Hardly anything ever got resolved, and Yuuri didn't even know why he had to be present. It was far too loud for him to be noticed even if he had a point or thought to share. He already had an aching, throbbing headache, and hearing the elderly General Yamamoto go on a tirade about "battles from the good old days" was definitely not helping. A red-faced man with a wispy mustache and goatee roared and stood up, slamming his ornate paper fan on the low table beside him. All eyes turned to him, and Yuuri saw his opportunity. Quietly, he slipped out of the room before anyone could notice.

His steps thumped softly against the wooden flooring of the hallway, and he gazed up at the regal paintings on the shōji of ancestors long dead as he moved past them. Nervously, he chewed his cheek, removed his tall hat, and pulled out the string binding up his hair so that it fell around him like a shroud. How could he ever live up to the expectations that they had set? It was as if they were all giving him disappointed looks, like they already knew that he was a failure. A dreadfully familiar empty, sinking feeling settled in his chest, and he looked down at his tabi socks. He quickened his pace, yearning to free himself from the scrutinizing watch of his forefathers.

Yuuri sighed in relief as he rounded a corner, and wondered if Phichit was around somewhere. He desperately needed someone to talk to, and his friend usually brightened his day. But with a despondent sigh, he recalled that Phichit was at his sick mother's house for the week to help take care of his siblings until she could recover. Who else could he turn to to confide in? His sister was busy with her lessons, and his parents were away on a diplomatic mission. There was absolutely nobody. Despair rose up inside of him, and a lump formed in his throat. He felt so utterly alone...

Yuuri took a relatively unused side exit, gingerly opening and closing the sliding panel door, and started down an overgrown path. Large stone lanterns were on either side, crumbling ruins of once elegantly carved light sources. Not many people went this way anymore. The garden at the end of the trail had been long since abandoned and left to become wild. A branch scraped against his thigh, and although he was sure it was bleeding, he felt too hollow to care.

Finally, he arrived at a clearing. Beyond it was a dense forest that nobody entered besides the bravest hunters. Legend told that the woods were the domain of a powerful demon, but he suspected that it was just an old wives' tale to keep children from wandering into the thick trees and getting lost.