KuroBasu Prompts

“Needed the new bag of coffee.  I think Junpei took the last of the other one during his paper-writing marathon last night.”

“And so, what? You couldn’t have waited fifteen minutes for my alarm to go off, or heaven forbid, grabbed one of us if you had to?  It’s not like that’s the entire reason we moved in with you or anything.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Didn’t want to bother us!?  That’s why we’re here!  I swear you need a babysitter sometimes.

"No, don’t try to move yet,” she said as Kiyoshi tried to stand.  "Let me check your knee first.“

She picked her way carefully around the broken glass to kneel next to him.  It didn’t take her long to strip off the brace and push up Kiyoshi’s pant leg.  She took her time examining his knee though, ignoring his yelps as she prodded none too gently around the still-healing joint.

"It doesn’t look like there’s any real damage.  Lucky,” she said finally.  "Ice it though, or it’s going to swell.“

At that moment, Hyūga surfaced in the doorway, still wearing his Samurai Warlords pajama pants.  "Morning,” he mumbled, shuffling to the coffee maker on autopilot.  He was halfway across the kitchen before his brain finally caught up and processed the scene in front of him.  "Problem?“ he asked.

Riko stabbed her finger at Kiyoshi’s chest.  "This idiot decided he couldn’t wait for coffee, and since he didn’t want to bother us, he tried to get it down himself.  You can see how well that ended; he’s lucky he didn’t re-injure his knee in the process.

"And speaking of idiots,” she continued, turning on Hyūga, “what were you thinking taking the last of the coffee without replacing it?  You know how Teppei is about his morning coffee.”

“It was late.  I was tired.  I didn’t think,” he muttered, thinking it was still far too early for any conversation involving more than a couple of words.

“Didn’t think!?  That’s the problem!  Neither of you think!  I shudder to think of what would have happened if I had left the two of you alone.”

“Like you would have done any better,” Hyūga snapped back.  "Teppei would’ve died of starvation or food poisoning within the week.  And aren’t you overreacting a bit?  The doctor did say-“

"The doctor said he could start carefully putting some weight on that knee again.  Walking across the room unaided is not ‘partial weight-bearing,’ and trying to jump is not careful in any sense of the term.  Don’t encourage him.”

“Guys,” Teppei said from the floor, playing the peacemaker like usual, “we’ve been through this before.  As much as you may wish otherwise, neither of you can do everything.  That’s not going to change, so could we pay attention to the more pressing issues?  Namely, the floor is covered in broken glass, and I still don’t have my coffee.”

Hyūga and Riko glared at one another one last time before dropping the argument, for the time being anyway.  Hyūga swept up the broken mug while Riko grabbed Kiyoshi’s crutches from where he had abandoned them, helped him back to the table, and threw an ice pack on his knee.

Once they were all settled with their coffee, Riko turned to Kiyoshi again, “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but if you try anything like that again, I will tell your doctor, and I’ll request extra sessions with you while I’m at it.  Understood?”

It was the shock of that realisation that had made him quiet for too long, long enough that Yuki’s tears had turned into heaving, guilt ridden sobs, thinking he was angry with her. It was that which moved him to action, wrapping his arms around his little sister and assuring her quietly that he wasn’t angry.

“But Shin-niichan, I lost it. I lost your present from Ka - ”

“It’s fine,” he had cut in, hurriedly. He thumbed away the wetness from her cheeks and smiled in the gentle way he only is with her. “It’s fine. I’ll find it. It will be all right.”

And so, after he had set Yuki to rights and placed her back in the care of her nurse, he had set off to where she had said she had been playing and started searching. It has been hours, though, hours of scouring the clearing in the forest where Yuki (and sometimes even him) would most often play. Hours of searching through the brush and near the little spring. Hours of ignoring rocks and twigs digging into his knees, thorns scraping his skin. Hours, and nothing. Not even a faint glimmer of gold.

He bites down on his bottom lip, hard, hard enough to bruise, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough, and he feels the prick of tears behind his eyes even though he refuses to let any fall. He hasn’t shed a single tear in three years and he refuses to even contemplate letting it happen today. He will not cry anymore. No one - nothing will ever make him cry again.

“Such a beautiful face shouldn’t be marred by tears.”

“I’m not crying!” he snaps. Then stills, frozen in place as the words hit him. He whirls around, trying to place the person who spoke, but there’s no one around. There is not a soul around, but he knows he didn’t imagine the voice. Knows he didn’t imagine the words. Warily, he steps forward, body tense, but no one appears. 

“Ah, but you want to, don’t you? Those pretty eyes are welling up.”

“Stop saying such things! Who’s there? Show yourself! This is private property, and you’re trespassing.”

“You don’t even know who’s talking to you,” the voice mocks. “So how do you know that I’m trespassing? For all you know, I have every right to be here.”

Shintarou scowls, wishing he had someone to direct it to. But the person has yet to show himself, and so Shintarou spins around, eyes scanning the dense foliage. 

“Because this land is property of the Shuutoku Royal family, a member of which you certainly are not”

“Oh well then, I do beg your pardon, my prince. How silly of me to overlook such a fact.”

“If you know who I am,” Shintarou says, sharply. “then why are you playing such games? I’ve told you to show yourself, yet you insist on hiding in the shadows like a coward.”

“Believe me when I say that it is not cowardice which hides me from your sight.“ 

"You’re speaking in riddles and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Simply look down, my prince, and all will be answered.”

“What?” Shintarou snaps, but automatically looks down. “If you’re trying to take me for a fool, I assure you I - " 

"A little to your left.”

Shintarou stops. Then stares. He thinks his mind might be playing tricks on him, but then the… the creature lifts up a delicate hand and wiggles its bright orange fingers at him. The frog. Nonchalantly perched (for there was no other word for what the frog is doing) between two blades of wild grass, one hand balanced on a taller blade of grass, one of its feet gripping the other. It looks up at him with almost a smile on its far too emotive face, large red eyes blinking up lazily. It’s almost beautiful, skin sleek and brightly coloured in hues of greens, blues, oranges and yellows. It’s belly is a clean off-white.

It’s still a frog, no matter how hard Shintarou stares, and then blinks. 

“I promise your eyes do not deceive you.” Its wide, mobile mouth curves into a smile that holds too much wryness to be real. And yet. A talking, brightly coloured frog is sitting on grass, smiling up at him. Shintarou’s knees feel weak and he has to fight not to stagger. He knows magic exists, has been brought up on it. But he has not seen evidence of magic so readily in front of him, not since it was outlawed in Shuutoku nearly two decades back. Yet what other answer was there for a talking amphibian? 

“Are you a sorceror?” Shintarou manages to ask, but his voice is hoarse with the shock. His hand, when he lifts it to push back his mussed hair, is shaking. The frog smiles at him again.

“I am but a simple frog, as you can see, my prince.”

“You are indeed a frog, but hardly simple. I have never met a frog that could talk.”

“And have you met very many frogs?”

“You call me your prince, but never has a subject of mine been so impertinent.”

“Then maybe it is that which is lacking in your life.” The frog sounds like it’s holding back a laugh, and this time Shintarou is able to aim a scowl in its direction. It doesn’t seem to bother the frog, indeed it seemed almost delighted. 

“I lack nothing.”

“You were searching for something, were you not? That is why you’re in such a sorry state. I can’t imagine Shuutoku’s prince is someone who is regularly so worn out and dirtied.” It makes a strange, croaking sound in the back of its throat. “Your bandages have unravelled.”

“I have misplaced one of my possessions. I must find it. It takes precedent over my appearance.” The reminder has Shintarou feeling agitated once more, and his attention finally turns away from the frog to their surroundings. The sky has darkened even more in the interim, and it’s almost impossible to find anything. But he must. There is no other choice.

“You will hardly be able to find anything in this dark, my prince. Perhaps you should come back when the sun rises once more. There are dark and terrible things lurking in this forest.”

“I cannot leave it behind. It is never far away from my side.” The frog tilts its head as it contemplates Shintarou. Its gaze is intent and heavy, and despite the fact that he is used to the attention to others, to the eyes and gossip and judgment of the Court, Shintarou feels unsettled. It feels…familiar, almost. He doesn’t know how or why, but it makes his discomfort grow.“

"And what is it that you have lost?”

“A golden ball.”

There is a strange tension in the air at his words, but then the frog breaks it with a scoff. “A toy is so important to you that you disregard your own well being? I didn’t believe you to be so foolish.”

“It is important to me!” Shintarou snaps. He stops, startled by his own vehemence. Then repeats it, softly. “It is important to me. It was a gift from a - a very dear friend.”

The frog watches him quietly once more, but Shintarou’s shoulders have slumped. Determined he might be, but even then he knows that the frog is right. Searching for the ball in the dark forest is a stupid plan. He just doesn’t want to give up.

“And how important to you is it? What are you willing to give up for the ball?”

“Anything.” The answer is too honest, and he catches himself with a wry smile of his own. “Within my ability to give. Within reason.”

“Then, my prince, shall we strike a deal?”

“A deal?” And now Shintarou is wary, because there is a sly tone to the frog’s words. The curve of its mouth is reminiscent of a too human smirk. 

“A deal. You return to your castle, and I will find your ball for you.”

“And what will you ask for, if you find it?”

“Oh, I will find it. But don’t worry. I don’t want your jewels or riches. I ask merely a night.”

“A night,” Shintarou repeats, flatly. The frog smiles wide, large red eyes eerily unblinking on him.

“A single night to share the food from your plate, to rest on your bed.” Then it seems to smirk once more. “And a kiss to wake me from my slumber in the morning. Are you willing to meet my terms?”

Shintarou stares at the frog but it meets his stare steadily. Finally he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Food from my plate, to sleep on my bed and a - a kiss in the morning. And for that you will return to me my ball?”

“This I promise you.”

“Then you might as well tell me your name, frog, if we are to be so familiar with each other.”

The frog smiles again. “I will give you a different name with which to call me when I have returned to you your ball. Until then, "frog” is more than good enough.“

*

Shintarou had not felt good about leaving the frog to its search alone, but he had to concede when he heard people calling for him, worried for their lost prince. It was late, and his family was expecting him for dinner, and he still needed to clean up. His mother would faint if she saw him in such a sorry state. So he rushed back and quickly wiped himself down and clean of dirt and sweat, and changed for dinner before moving to the dining room to join his family.

His parents, as usual, sit at the head of the table, as befits their station. Yuki brightens up when she sees him, but becomes gloomy once again when he subtly shakes his head at her. He tries to look reassuring, but there is nothing that he can do when he is sitting across the wide table from her. Yuki is quiet throughout the meal, speaking only when spoken to, but Shintarou tries to make up for it by being more verbose than he usually prefers. Their parents shoot them considering looks, but keep quiet, mindful of the servants around them, not to mention the various others diplomatic guests and members of aristocracy that manage to get an invitation to join the King and the Royal family to dine.  There is no privacy for personal conversation to be had. 

They have just started the main course when a flustered and disbelieving footman rushes into the room to speak quietly into the King’s ear. King Midorima’s eyebrows shoot up and he shoots Shintarou an inscrutable look before he gestures him over. Shintarou’s own eyebrows rise, but he goes without question, ingrained to always obey his King and Father. 

"It appears that you have a guest,” the King says, mildly enough, though there is something unreadable in his eyes. Shintarou’s heart quickens though he tries to keep his face as bland as he can.

“Oh?” he manages, and sees his father’s mouth twitch imperceptibly. 

“Something about a promise that was made, earlier.”

Shintarou blinks, then looks around at their guests who are watching with unabashed interest. He looks back at his father and lowers his voice as much as is possible. “Now?”

“If you have made a promise, Shintarou, then it must be kept. We cannot go back on our word.” He feels heat prickling the back of his neck up to his ears, but he keeps his face stoic and jerks his head in a nod. 

“Shall I fetch…him, then?”

“If you would please. Oh, and Shintarou?” Shintarou glances at his father, sees the amusement now clear in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll have a fascinating story to tell us. Later.”

Shintarou nods jerkily again, before he follows the footman out,  ignoring the gazes locked on him. His mouth firms into a tight line, but he swallows down his embarrassment. No matter that he was born a prince, Shintarou has always strived to be beyond reproach. Perfect and perfectly boring, as he’d overheard one courtier whisper behind his back. He does not like to be the subject of gossip, but there is no doubt that after tonight he certainly will be. 

What had seemed to be so simple to promise earlier is certainly much harder to bear with now, but it is as his father had said. He had made a promise, and if there is one thing his father had always taught him and Yuki, it is that a Midorima keeps their word. So he keeps his head high and follows the footman through the long, winding corridors all the way to the main doors. His guest is waiting with a seemingly patient look on it’s small face, and right beside it is the golden ball.

Shintarou’s breath catches.

“You found it.”

“I would not be here if I hadn’t, my prince,” the frog says, almost reproachfully. It tilts its head as it takes him in - the tenseness of his body and the mortified flush probably lingering on his too pale skin - and its mouth curves into a mocking smile. “Have I come at a bad time?”

Shintarou scowls. “There will never be a good time. This is, after all, the palace." 

The frog makes a croaking sound, and it takes Shintarou a moment to realise that it is laughing. He grimaces slightly at the pang of fondness he feels, and wants to shake his head. There is something about the frog that is enticingly familiar, in ways that makes him ache with longing he has long since ruthlessly repressed. It makes his mouth thin once more, and the frog’s laughter tapers off. It’s looking at him in an almost considering manner again, which is infuriating. 

"If you’re quite done, I suppose it’s time for my part of our bargain,” Shintarou says, icily. The frog does not react to his tone other than a placid smile, and Shintarou tsks as he turns to the lingering footman. “Have the ball returned to my quarters post haste. And be careful with it.”

“Yes, your highness.” The footman salutes and scoops up the ball immediately, setting off for the Royal family’s private quarters. Shintarou waits until he’s gone before he turns to the frog. 

“Shall we?”

“I’ll hop right to it,” the frog replies with another mocking grin. “Though it might be faster if you help me along.” Shintarou tsks again but bends down and allows the frog to hop up onto his arm. He starts off back to the formal dining room, the frog balanced carefully in the crook of his arm, ignoring the stares and whispers they garner as they pass. They make it back without incident, and Shintarou finds that a small velvet pillow has been placed near his plate. He sits in stony silence, placing the frog on the pillow and studiously ignores the stares he receives in the dining room, too. Yuki starts to say something, but she is quickly hushed by her nurse, who is staring at the brightly coloured frog in a strange mix of distaste and fascination. In fact, that seems to be the default expression on the faces of all present, except for his father. Despite himself, Shintarou starts to feel amused by the reaction, and so begins to calmly cut his food into smaller pieces.

A discrete servant appears at his elbow with a small serving plate, and Shintarou thanks her quietly before he places several pieces of cut meat and vegetables onto it. His nonchalance seems to throw everyone else, and it seems to be more than the ambassador seated at his side could take, the man practically quivering with indignant curiosity as he leans carefully closer.

“Your Highness, I must ask, what is going on?”

“I am preparing food for my guest,” Shintarou replies, calmly, and the man falls back in his chair with his mouth opening and closing. No words come out, though, and Shintarou thinks (rather uncharitably, he will admit) that the man looks like a fish out of water, his eyes bugging out slightly. Just as calmly, he tells the frog that he should begin eating before the food gets cold. 

He gets the sense that the frog is deeply amused by everything going on, even as it gamely obeys, long tongue darting out to capture morsels of food. Then again, though he has only known the frog for a short while, Shintarou gets the feeling that the frog is easily amused; especially if it’s at another’s expense. After he gets a nod from the frog that it is satisfied with its portion of dinner, he starts in on his own meal. Conversation haltingly begins again, though Shintarou can see people side eyeing them and just like in the hallway, he keeps his head high. He notices his father’s approving smile but doesn’t acknowledge it, just stoically goes through his entire plate of food and calmly waits for dessert. 

Like with the main course, he serves the frog first (after the servants have hastily cleared off his plate and replaced it with a new one) before he starts on his own, the delicate cakes tasting like ash in his mouth. He doesn’t rush - not even if he wants desperately to just go back to his room and escape all of the unnecessary, unwanted attention - but takes his time and calmly asks for tea. Again, he sips his tea slowly and rolls it in his mouth to cleanse out the flavours of his meal. The toad has a thimble in front of it, filled with the rich red wine it had requested, but Shintarou doesn’t look at it more than he has to. He doesn’t want to begrudge the frog, but it is due to its request that he finds himself in such an uncomfortable position. So he resents it, anyway. 

The interminable dinner finally ends and while everyone lingers he makes his apologies to his parents and finally (finally) scoops up the frog and practically marches out of the room. He is all too aware that, like it has been all too many times that night, all eyes are on him as he slips out as unobtrusively as he can. All for naught, of course, but Shintarou doesn’t see the point of fanfare. The frog stays strangely silent as they move through the halls. Doesn’t say a word as Shintarou takes them past servants and guards alike that stare after them with mouths agape. Doesn’t say a word until Shintarou drops it almost roughly on his bed before moving to get ready for bed.

“That was painfully awkward,” it notes. Shintarou bristles but otherwise ignores it as he strips off his clothes mechanically, making sure to fold them neatly before putting them aside to be taken away the next day. “I like causing a scene as much as the next person, but that was something else.”

“What did you expect?” Shintarou whirls around and sneers at the frog. “You are a magical talking frog attached to the crown prince of Shuutoku. Fed food from the prince’s plate. Invited in by the king. If that does not cause a stir, then what will?”

“I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?” The frog has an understanding, sympathetic cast to its face but that just makes Shintarou even more irritated. He glares and resolutely turns back to continue his nightly routine. Nightclothes, brushing his teeth, rewrapping his fingers. There is a soft shift on the bed, and then the frog hops to where he is. “It wasn’t my intention to cause you problems.”

“I do not enjoy the attention of the court.”

“You are the crown prince. That is your fate.”

“It doesn’t mean I have to go seeking it!”

“No.” It sounds thoughtful, head cocked. “No, it doesn’t. But it will mean that you will be unhappy. Your role in life has already been set for you. You will be the next king of Shuutoku. As king you will have even less anonymity than you do now, and now you have little of it to speak of.”

“I’m well aware of that. I have known that what feels like my entire life.”

“You were born in the wrong life, my prince,” the frog says, softly. Kindly. “If it were in my power to change your destiny, I would.”

“If it were in anyone’s power to change my destiny, it would be mine. But destiny cannot be unmade, frog. And because of that, I have made my peace with my lot in life.” Shintarou shrugs, uncomfortably. “It is how it is.”

“And do you not wish for something more? Do you not wish to be happy.”

Shintarou’s mouth twists. “I had the chance at happiness once.” The memory leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he’s being so candid with the frog, but it’s probably because it’s been too long. Probably because he has needed to tell someone, to say all of this aloud and yet has had no opportunity to do so. He cannot speak of it to his family, he would not wish them to shoulder the burden of guilt on his behalf. He has no desire for others’ sympathy. 

“And?” the frog’s voice is strangely hushed. It stares at Shintarou with an almost uncomfortable intensity. “What happiness do you speak of?”

“As the stories go,” Shintarou begins, wryly. “Once upon a time, I had a friend. I had a dear friend who was picked for me, whom I favoured over all others. But more than that, I had a friend who chose me. Not for what I am, but for who I am. Once upon a time, that friend accepted my request that he stay with me for the rest of our lives. To be my partner in all things.” He looks away, tone turning bitterly sad. “Once upon a time.”

“What happened?”

“He disappeared.” Abruptly, Shintarou’s tone turns brisk, and he scoops the frog up - much more gently than he had before - and takes it to the bed. He places the frog on the pillow next to his and follows it down. 

“Why did he disappear? Did you not search for him?”

“I searched for two years. At the end of the second year, I was ordered to stop.” Shintarou pulls the blankets over his shoulder and turns so that he can see the frog. It looks at him, and there is something almost sorrowful in its gaze. “My parents - they were worried they would lose me to the…to the grief. My sister though,” and here he smiles. “She told me she understood. She encouraged me to keep on searching quietly.” His smile dies. “But it has been three years and I have found no word, no whisper of him. Even his family has given him up for dead.”

The frog stares at him solemnly for a long moment, before it closes its eyes. “I’m very sorry, Shintarou.”

Shintarou startles, but then huffs out a quiet laugh. “You are being impertinent again, frog. But,” he shrugs. “It matters not. The story. It is an old one and yes, I still feel the wounds from it. I am assured though that time heals all wounds.” He tries to smile, but stops after a while, when he feels his lips refusing to cooperate. He closes his eyes instead. “I look forward to finding out if that is true.”

“Sleep, dear prince,” the frog whispers. “May the morning bring you joy.”

It takes a long time, but eventually - Shintarou sleeps.

*

The next morning, Shintarou wakes to a weight on his chest. He opens his eyes, disgruntled, to see the frog smiling cheerily at him. He narrows his eyes, bleary from sleep, in a glare that the frog seems to completely ignore.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” it cheers. Even mostly asleep, Shintarou can tell that it feels forced and tense and it makes him frown. “And with this morning the final part of our promise comes.”

“A kiss good morning, was it not?” Shintarou says, yawning through the words. Cupping his hands around the frog to keep it in place, he sits up carefully. When he’s leaned against the headboard comfortably, he cocks his head. “Does it have to be in a specific place or in a specific way?”

“Any way you wish, my prince.”

“You sound nervous.” Shintarou raises a brow. “You were the one who asked for this.”

“And I meant it.” The frog then bats its eyes at Shintarou, smiling cheekily. “I’m about to get a kiss from a handsome prince. Do you blame me for my nerves?”

Shintarou is mortified when he feels his face flushing and scowls harder. “Life will be much quieter without you around.”

“You have had more than enough quiet, I think.” The frog seems oddly serious. It hesitates. “Don’t - don’t be too angry with me.”

“What?” Shintarou frowns quizzically. “I hardly doubt that a kiss in the privacy of my chambers is going to make me more angry than everything else that you have put me through.”

The frog shoots him an enigmatic smile. “That remains to be seen. But forget about that for now. I am owed a kiss.”

“It’s hardly my fault,” Shintarou grumbles, but obligingly brings the frog closer to him. He hesitates as he contemplates the frog, then mentally shrugs and presses a kiss to its smiling mouth. There is a moment of complete stillness, then the sky starts to rumble ominously outside. Shintarou’s eyes fly open in alarm and his gaze turns to the windows when his hands start to sting. “What - ”

“Let me go!” the frog yells. “Drop me to the floor now, Shin - ” it releases a strange, pained scream and Shintarou drops him in alarm. The frog bounces on the hard floor before it rolls to a stop for a brief second. 

It starts to convulse. 

“Frog!” Shintarou yells, almost throwing himself out of the bed when the frog yells back “don’t come any closer!” Shintarou freezes, staring wide eyed as things pop and crack and the frog’s back arches off the floor. It lets out another scream and right before Shintarou’s eyes the colours on its body fade to the pale off white of its belly. And then it starts to…grow. Its body elongates, letting out more alarming pops and cracks, forming limbs that become more and more humanoid in shape. It turns on its back and its neck lengthens, head thudding on the floor as dark hair sprouts from its scalp. 

It takes several very painful looking minutes, but finally, there is a man on Shintarou’s floor. A very naked man. And when he lifts his head up, Shintarou’s heart feels like it actually stops when he meets storm cloud grey eyes. The man smiles at him weakly.

“Hello, Shin-chan.”

Shintarou doesn’t mean to, but the next thing he knows the man is groaning on his back and Shintarou’s knuckles are bruised and aching. He stares for several moments longer, then flees his bedroom, the door slamming closed behind him. 

He ignores the stares he’s getting yet again, he ignores the calls of his name. He ignores everything except the need to get to somewhere safe, somewhere where things make sense. He flies to his parents’ living quarters and throws open the doors, ignoring the guards’ startled shouts. His parents are having a quiet breakfast together, though they stop when they see him, looking alarmed. Belatedly, he’s aware of the sight he must make, he feels crazed, but he he needs - he needs calm. He needs practicality and pragmatism and he needs someone to tell him that he hasn’t gone insane. He needs his parents to right his world again from where it has turned completely upside down.

“Shintarou?” his mother gets up and crosses the room to him swiftly. She cups his face worriedly. “Son, is something wrong? What happened?”

“The frog,” he gasps. “The frog, it - it’s - ”

“The frog?” his parents share a puzzled glance before his father too crosses to him. “Has it done something?”

“It’s - Kazunari.”

His father sucks in a breath, then he straightens to his full height. “Then what are you doing here?” Shintarou lets out a strangled sob and his father pulls him into a hard hug, pressing a kiss to his head. “You have been waiting for that boy for three years. I won’t try to say that I understand what’s going on but if - if Kazunari is really back, then why are you here?”

“What if I’ve finally gone insane?" 

"Shin - ” his mother begins, but they’re interrupted by a knock on the door. She shoots it an irritated glare, but the knock comes again. Followed by a voice. A very familiar voice.

“Shin-chan, please, let me explain.” Shintarou squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a shuddering breath. “Shin-chan. Shintarou. Please talk to me. I promise - ” Kazunari’s voice breaks. “I promise to go away again, but let me explain.”

That makes his eyes snap open, and he doesn’t even need the gentle shove his father gives him to stride to the door and yank it open. Kazunari has yanked on Shintarou’s clothes in clumsy haste, dark hair tousled. He looks worn and weary and there is a burgeoning bruise on his jaw. He looks beautiful. 

“Don’t go,” Shintarou manages. His voice breaks again and he can feel his eyes stinging. “Don’t - don’t leave me alone again.”

“Shin-chan,” Kazunari says, then he surges up to kiss him, sword worn hands rough as he cups Shintarou’s face. Shintarou’s crying, but he doesn’t care because Kazunari is home, Kazunari is kissing him and alive and whole and in front of him. “Never again. Okay? I promise you. I will never leave you alone again." 

Shintarou’s arms wrap around him and he clings. And slowly, slowly he starts to hope.

*

The story comes out in fits and starts after Shintarou and Kazunari finally manage to pull themselves together. Kazunari tells it to him with his parents holding on to each of his hands. Shintarou almost doesn’t feel them, he can’t take his eyes off of Kazunari. And Kazunari explain how he had been stopped by a woman three years ago, on his way back to the palace after buying something for Shintarou in town. How the woman had pretended to need his help. How he had followed her into the woods and how she had cursed him and left him there to live the rest of his days as a frog unless he is fed and rested and kissed by the one he loves, in his new form.

How the spell had locked his tongue from explaining.

How he had been unable to leave the forest until he met his love.

How he had waited for Shintarou at the place he knew Shintarou loved best, and how he had grown despondent and bitter when Shintarou did not return to the forest. How he had been unable to approach Yuki who had. How he had given up hope of ever turning back. How Shintarou had finally come back in search of his golden ball. The one Kazunari had given him years ago.

How he had started to hope. 

How he had returned to them.

At the end of his tale, Shintarou is not the only one who is crying, and his parents both cannot stop apologising to Kazunari. 

"But why? Why did she do it?” Is the only thing Shintarou can think to ask. Kazunari’s expression turns dark and hateful.

“Because she hates your family, for making her and hers unable to practice magic. Because she’s a witch. Because she is spiteful and mean spirited and wanted to hurt you.”

“It didn’t benefit her in any way! She could have appealed to us! She could have done any number of things that would have made us have to look to magic for help. Why would she choose to - to take you away from me?" 

"She won’t get away with it,” the king vows with a hard glare. Kazunari shakes his head.

“She already has, your majesty.” At his startled glance, Kazunari explains. “It was a last act of vengeance. It was never to create a great change. She left, after she cursed me. She told me she was going to lands that were more accepting of witches. That she and her sisters would find a place that accepted them. She just wanted to cause you pain.”

“But the curse is broken?” the queen demanded. “Completely broken? There is no way it will come back?”

Kazunari’s head cocks in thought, and Shintarou realises with a pang that it’s a move the frog had made many times. Realises that it’s something Kazunari has always done. Now that he knows, he wonders how he had missed all the signs. “As she explained it, once a spell is broken it is done. Magic comes with rules that must be followed. A spell or curse cast must come with a way to break it. Loopholes can be exploited, but no curse or spell is technically impossible to break. And once a spell or curse is broken, it cannot be renewed or remade.”

“So you are returned to me. For good.”

Kazunari’s eyes soften and he reaches out to grab Shintarou’s hand. He pulls it up to place a gentle kiss against his knuckles. “I am returned to you. For good.”

“I have missed you,” Shintarou chokes out. And Kazunari smiles even as he pulls Shintarou up out of his seat and into his arms for another hard, desperate hug. Shintarou is peripherally aware of his parents quietly getting up and leaving to give them some time to themselves. He knows that they have things to do, that they have probably gone to send word to Kazunari’s family, to Yuki. But right now, he doesn’t care about practicalities. He doesn’t care about anything but the man in his arms. He clings to Kazunari just as desperately, hiding his face in Kazunari’s neck. Everything else can come later. He has the most important thing right here.