#ryuji zenko

2. A Lucky Guess

[This is canon moment from the story, and one of my favorite moments, where Myya accidentally uncovers Ryuji’s deepest secret while they are searching the Stronghold]

“Ugh, you’re just like him,” Ryuji groans. “So many questions. Nosy.” 

“Who? Ishida? I take that as a compliment,” Myya smiles, hurrying to keep pace with him. “and besides, I’m not being nosy. I’m only trying to have a conversation. The only time you usually talk is to express how much you hate all of us.” 

“I don’t hate all of you.” 

“Then why do you act like it? Especially, with Ishida, what’s he ever done to you?” 

“That caster-“

“Ishida.”

“Shouldn’t even be here, it’s far too dangerous- not to mention he’s been acting strange since we arrived. Constantly spacing out and fiddling with that necklace. He’s going to-“

“You’re worried about him?” 

The question nearly stops the archer in his tracks, “What? No.”

“Kinda sounds like you are.” 

“Him being here puts everyone at risk. Especially, Takashi if we get caught.”

“Ishida knows what he’s doing, trust him.” 

“Casters cannot be trusted.” 

“Do you seriously still consider him your enemy? He’s saved your life how many times?” 

“He’s a caster,” she hears the archer mutter behind her.

“You keep saying that like you want it to mean something. Take that away, what’s your problem with him?”

“Everything. He’s horrible. He’s loud and arrogant. He has no respect for people of power and higher status—not to mention personal space. He’s always spouting off opinions, using those ridiculous nicknames, flirting with complete strangers—“

“Why do you care who he flirts with?” 

“W-wha, I don’t. I’m saying his shameless behavior is inappropriate, obnoxious, and—“ 

Myya eyes him as the list goes on. She has half a mind to tell the archer where he can stick his bow, but when she sees the pensive look on his face, she stops. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you like Ishida.” 

Ryuji comes to a dead stop, his head spinning around to face her like an owl.

“What?”

“You like him,” she repeats, deciding not to waiver. “You like Ishida.” 

“That’s ridiculous” Ryuji scoffs. 

“Is it?” 

“He’s a caster.” 

“And you like him.” 

The assassin’s face scrunches, his eye almost twitching. 

“It all makes sense now,” she grins. “Your  tough-guy bully routine is just an act so none of your assassin buddies find out that you—“ 

Ryuji grabs her arm. 

“Hey! Watch it!” She exclaims, “That hurts!” 

There are voices coming from around the corner and Ryuji puts a hand over her mouth and tucks them behind a stone column.

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” He hisses in a whisper. “He’s a man.” 

Myya squints, “Ok and?” 

“I’m not-“ the archer nearly shouts, but collects himself, lowering his voice. “I do not like men.” 

“I never said that you did. I said you liked Ishida.”  

She gasps when Ryuji grabs her arm and drags her into one of the rooms. 

“You,” he starts, his voice shaking, “have no idea what you’re saying, what you’re insinuating.” 

“What’s the big deal?” Myya grunts, “I didn’t say you were in love with him and besides even if you did like guys it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about it. Look at Takashi! He doesn't care about that sort of thing, and he’s a Prince!” 

Ryuji scoffs, releasing his grip. “Don't preach to me about things you know nothing about. Someone like you could never understand. I am a soldier.”

"Someone like me? What- Did your brain stop developing so your legs could keep growing? What does liking men have to do with being a Kemuri or whatever you call yourself?”

“You don’t get it. My family—I don’t—I’m not,” he bites his lip. “I can’t.” 

Myya watches him and the way his hands shake. His entire body is ridged and there’s a fear in his eyes she’s never seen before. He looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” she says, feeling guilty about unintentionally exposing something she wasn’t meant to know, “and your family shouldn't care either way. Neither should you. It shouldn’t matter who they are, their gender, their family, nothing.” 

“You say that like it’s easy,” Ryuji scoffs. 

“It is easy. Love is love. It’s as simple as that.” 

Ryuji shakes his head. “You don’t get it.” 

He claps his hands behind his back and walks over to the window. Myya takes a few tentative steps towards him. Hesitantly, she places her hand on his arm, feeling him tense. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” 

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs. “But you shouldn’t let other’s dictate your happiness. It isn’t fair to you,” she watches the archer wrinkle his nose before stepping away to give him space. 

“And for the record,” she adds hanging in the doorway, “you could do way worse than Ishida. He’s an amazing person. He changed my life and I wouldn’t trade his friendship for anything.” 

Before he can respond, she exits into the hallway. Maybe Ishida is right, maybe there is more to Ryuji than meets the eye, you just have to chip through his hard outer shell. She hopes her words provided some encouragement, but as the archer strides past her, like she’s not even there it fills her with doubt. She has to nearly jog to keep up with him as they set off back down the carpeted hallways. It’s clear that he’s still hell bent at keeping everyone at a distance, including himself.

3. A Friend Knows

[Another canon moment from the story where Takashi reveals he’s known all along. It is important to note here that Takashi is very drunk (upset over the break up with Hein) and it's also important to note that drunk Takashi is my favorite hahaha.]

Ryuji’s eyes follow them out onto the dance floor until his neck strains from the angle. He turns back sighing and looks over at the Prince still slouched on the stool like a squashed mushroom.

"Sit up," he tells him, pushing against his back. 

"He won't even look at me," Takashi whines and Ryuji rolls his eyes. 

"I wouldn't want to look at you right now either," he grumbles, glancing back at the dance floor. 

“That’s mean,” the Prince pouts and tilts his glass upside down to get the last drop. “You don’t have to be so -hic- oops,- hic- mean all the time. You can relax and have- have a good time—hic—

"What are you going on about now?" 

"You know what," Takashi emphasizes waving at the groups around them. The gesture causes him to lose his balance, but he catches himself on the counter. 

"We need to get something to eat." 

"Ugh, there you go, avoiding the topic, like you always do." 

"Can you blame me? You make it look like such a messy business,” He looks down at the glass Ishida had left behind. “Love is the death of peace of mind.” 

“No, no. You’re-you’re wrong. You need, you know what you need? You need a wingman!” He throws his arm around Ryuji’s neck. “Who shall we get?”

“No,” Ryuji refuses, shifting in his seat in hopes Takashi will let him go.

"How about the bartender?He— hic— seems interested.” 

Ryuji looks over, watching as Garron mixes a few drinks. When he catches Ryuji staring he winks at him. Ryuji ducks. How did— his head snaps to the drunken Prince.

"What makes you think-"

“Not into Udrons? Ok,” Takashi spins on the stool, “how about the guy over there?” He points to one of the men by the band.

Ryuji grabs his arm and turns him back to face the bar. 

“Did Myya—“ 

“Myya?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Let’s just—”

"Come on Ryuji, I may be a dumb Prince, but I'm not—I’m not stupid. I saw who’d catch your eye at all of those parties, while you, you were sulking. It wasn’t the girls.” 

“I-I, I’m not. I don’t.”

“It’sok,” Takashi pats his back. “I get it. So tell me whatdoyoulike?”

“Can we not talk about this?” Ryuji asks, feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. "I am not that kind of man, and I never will be." 

“That’s not true,” Takashi pouts. “You, you just have to take a dance—a chance. Stop doing duty stuff and do for you,” he presses a finger to Ryuji’s chest tapping it with each word. “Because you need happy.” 

"Takashi-"

"Ah! Ah! I am the Prince, I have spoken!" he pounds his fists on the bar counter like a gavel. “And you owe me for, cus I’m your best friend and you told Myya.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Ryuji corrects, “she figured it out somehow.” 

“Aw, I can’t stay mad at you,” Takashi sings, not having heard what he said. He wraps his arms around his neck like a child. Ryuji grabs onto him to keep them steady on the stool.

+ 1 A Choice

[This scene doesn't happen in the story, but I wanted to give it to Ryuji because he deserves it. Perhaps something close to it will happen...we'll see]

Lanterns float overhead in a haze of orange, casting the bar in a warm, restless glow. Ryuji traces his finger around the glass in front of him, focusing on the disappearing froth instead of the celebration that’s pressing in from every side. His eyes slip to the shadowed corners where the lanterns can’t reach, quick, subtle sweeps to make sure the atmosphere stays harmless.

Takashi sits next to him, a seat away, a collection of empty glasses crowding the shelf. He chats with a small group of girls, the same group that swarmed him the moment he arrived, begging for a dance. He’d refused with a grin, eyes never leaving the field ahead of them. 

Sorry, ladies, my heart is happily spoken for, he’d said, as effortlessly as breathing. 

Ryuji’s gaze drifts to the field as well, scanning unfamiliar faces out of habit before settling—inevitably—on one. Lantern-light washes over Myya, Ishida, and Hein as they dance, but it’s Ishida who holds him still. The way he moves, the way he laughs, the way the orange glow reflects off the white of his hair…it tugs at something he keeps locked behind his ribs. 

When the song ends, Hein makes his way towards the bar, flushed and breathless from the dance. Takashi doesn’t hesitate; he reaches out and pulls the Essence into his lap, the girls forgotten in an instant. It’s so natural for him, so unthinking, so open. Ryuji watches the ease of it, the comfort, the certainty, and swallows the quiet ache he feels. 

He wishes it were that simple for him. 

Ishida joins them a moment later, slipping into the seat between him and Takashi. Close enough to be near, but just far enough that no one will think twice about it. It’s a habit he’s picked up ever since they became…whatever it is they are. Ryuji notices it every time. Feels it every time. 

Like Takashi, Ishida expresses most of his affection through touch. When they are alone, he’s all warm hands and easy closeness, leaning into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But out here, surrounded by strangers, he holds himself carefully in check. A few inches of space. A polite distance. A quiet question: are you ok with this? 

In truth, Ryuji hates the distance. Hates that Ishida feels he needs to create it, and yet he understands and appreciates the gentleness behind it. The patience. The way Ishida has never pushed him towards the truth, he still can't say out loud. 

He wishes he could reach across the space. Just a brush of fingers. A touch to say I’m yours too. He wishes he could be as open as Takashi, as unafraid. He wishes he didn’t have to think so hard about something that should feel simple. But the words stay locked behind his teeth, and the inches between them feel heavier than they should. 

Myya drifts up to the bar on Ryuji’s other side next, cheeks red and hair sticking to her temples in the lantern-lit heat. She leans across the counter with a grin and calls for a drink. The bartender slides it across the bar with a practiced flick. Then, busy, distracted, he reaches for the nearest glass out of habit. Ryuji’s glass. 

He plucks it from his hand before Ryuji can protest, eyeing the warm, frothiness that remains with a raised brow. 

“It’d be a crime to drink that,” he says, setting it aside. “What can I get for you and your friend?” He nods towards Ishida, already reaching for clean glasses.

Ryuji feels the word settle in his chest—simple, harmless, ordinary. Friend. He could let it pass. He always does. But Ishida is right there beside him, sitting carefully, respectfully, leaving those few inches of space that only exist because he’s never been brave enough to close them. And suddenly, with the lantern-light warm on his skin, Myya humming beside them, and Takashi laughing under his breath, the distance feels unnecessary. Small, silly. 

He reaches out before he can talk himself out of it. His fingers brush Ishida’s hand on the counter, light at first, then firmer, threading through so their fingers interlock. 

“He’s not my friend,” he says, voice steadier than he expected. “He’s my boyfriend.”

The bartender blinks, then smiles like what he said was nothing out of the ordinary. “Then I’ll make it two of my best.” And he moves off to prepare the drinks. 

Ishida shifts closer, not casually this time, but with a soft, relieved exhale, and presses a small kiss to Ryuji’s arm, right below the shoulder. Warm. Certain. Proud. Takashi lets out a low whistle and claps Ryuji on the back, not teasing, just…pleased. Then he slides over to stand beside Myya, Hein on his arm, both grinning so wide their cheeks probably hurt. 

Ryuji lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Something inside him loosens. Something tight and knotted and old. The air feels lighter. He feels lighter.

For the first time, the space around him doesn’t feel like something he has to guard. It feels like something he can live in. 

The door to the classroom opens and shuts. He can hear the professor's voice and someone else, but he keeps his attention outside. It isn’t until he feels the entire desk shift that he turns, watching as a chipper red-eye boy sits down at the desk in front of him. He remembers him from the other day. The Prince of Nubik, Takashi Han. Ryuji’s done plenty of research on the royal family and heard his father speak of the King and his inept prodigy. He’s never known why the Lords speak so ill of the Prince. According to the school records, his marks are high—higher than most—although he seems to never show up to class on time, or at all. He’s a terrible shot, and his swordsmanship needs improvement, but unless they are faking the records, Ryuji can’t understand their ill will towards him. What he can't further understand is the Prince's growing attachment to him.

Since that day in the courtyard, where he is, the Prince is always nearby. He waves to him from across the hall, sits next to him in class, and pops up in the dorm rooms. It’s as if he’s following him. He can’t make sense of it.

“Hey, what page are we on?” The Prince asks, leaning back onto Ryuji’s desk.

Ryuji shrugs.

“Don’t you know?”

He does. But he doesn’t see why he should help. Especially when he knows the Prince isn’t likely to stick around for the whole lesson.

“You don’t know, do you,” Takashi continues, “your workbooks not even open.”

“Because I finished it,” Ryuji mutters.

Takashi blinks at him. “You what?”

“I finished it.”

The Prince stares and then turns completely around in his desk and snatches Ryuji’s workbook.

“Hey!” He whispers, attempting to grab it back. But the Prince turns around, scooting his desk forward as he flips through the pages, his eyes going round. He turns back to him.

“When did you do this?”

“Last night,” he answers.

The Prince looks stunned, “you did all this last night?” He asks, emphasizing this by shaking the workbook in his hand.

“Yes.”

“So, what are you like, a genius or something?”

Ryuji shrugs, “They’re simple problems and I was bored.”

“You were bored?” The Prince echoes.

Ryuji shrugs again.

“Han, Zenko,” The Professor calls out, “Might I ask what is so important that you’ve chosen to disregard my lecture?”

Ryuji sits up straight, ready to apologize, watching as the Prince slouches and rolls his eyes.

“Apologies Professor,” The Prince says, “I came in late, and my friend Ryuji was just filling me in on what I had missed.”

“I see. If his highness would be on time, there would be no need for this disruption. You can see me after class if you wish to be caught up.”

“Of course, Professor,” The Prince drawls. He puts the workbook back on Ryuji’s desk with a wink and turns back towards the front of the class.

Ryuji stares, confused. 'My friend Ryuji' the Prince had said. Since when were they, friends?

After class, the Professor asks Ryuji about the encounter with Prince Han and encourages him to surround himself with better influences so he continues to do well in the class. Ryuji nodded, unable to say anything. They speak about the Prince of their land as if he is a common Null. It doesn’t make any sense. He walks out of the classroom, surprised to see the Prince leaning against the wall waiting for him.

“Did he tell you to find better company?” he asks.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Ryuji notes, turning to walk down the hall towards his next class.

The Prince shrugs, coming to walk next to him. “Where are you headed?”

“Military Tactics.”

“Ugh, what a snooze fest,” Takashi groans.

“Your Highness,” a voice says from behind.

Takashi comes to a dead stop but doesn’t turn around. “Yes, Gorwin?”

“You’re due for your weapons training. Let’s go.”

“I’m headed to Military Tactics right now,” The Prince says, turning to face the royal servant. “I have to help my friend Ryuji here get to class. He’s new. I’m showing him the way.”

Ryuji turns, a retort on his tongue, but the Prince grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him down the hallway.

“Ok so I’ll meet up with you at the camping grounds!” he waves, not waiting for his servant’s response.

They round the corner, Takashi still dragging Ryuji along. He doesn’t think the Prince realizes they’re going the wrong way, but he’s sure the royal servant knew. Halfway towards the second group of buildings, he finally speaks up. “We’re going the wrong way,” he says.

The Prince freezes, looking at his surroundings as if he’s seeing them for the first time. “Crap,” he mutters, “why didn’t you say something?” he asks, turning to Ryuji.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” Ryuji says, pulling his arm back. “Why do you keep doing that?” he asks, watching as the Prince rubs the back of his neck.

“Doing what?”

“Telling everyone that we’re friends.”

The Prince blinks, “Because we are friends” he smiles casually like he doesn’t understand why he would ask such a thing.

Ryuji wonders if this is how a Prince makes friends; by commanding it. But when he thinks of all the times he’s seen the Prince, he’s been alone. He talks to no one in class, and when he waves to Ryuji in the halls, he’s never with anyone. They are alike in that way. It’s odd. He’s a Prince, who wouldn’t want to be friends with him? For that matter, why would a prince want to be friends with him?

“Now, as your friend, who has made you late for class,” the Prince continues sheepishly, “I decree that it’s only fair that I make it up to you!”

Ryuji raises one eyebrow.

“Follow me! Come on!” The Prince pats his arm and jogs out towards the fields.

Ryuji thinks the Professor is right. He should find better company if he wants to continue to do well at this school and somehow gain his father’s respect. Yet, he follows the Prince, anyway.

It doesn’t hurt half as bad as it looks. He wishes he could say the same about the rest of his clothes. The brightly colored silk kimono is nearly brown from all the caked on mud. It’s torn and charred from ash and its delicate beaded-stitching hangs frayed off the ends, nearly every crystal bead missing, lost to the river. Lousy demons have no respect for fashion.

Another chill puts him on his feet. The water is moving west so he heads east in hopes he can find the way back. It’s nearly nightfall which means he’ll likely have to find shelter before the rest of his crew. He hopes his prolonged absence won’t cause too much worry. The air seems to get colder with every step. His once beautiful flowing outfit now clings to him trapping the cold in. How much longer? He wonders, but looking behind him, it doesn’t look like he’s traveled much at all. Exhaustion is catching up with him. His limbs are heavy and he feels sluggish. He needs to find a safe place to rest.

Hugging the tree line, he lets his magic fan out, just a little bit. Just enough to catch something. And he does, something familiar. Ahead of him, a tall blurry object is coming in fast. Exhaustion muffles the sound at first as his knees give out, but then he hears it clear as day:

“ISHIDA!”

In a blink, his archer is at his side, concern etched in those chiseled features. His hands are on him in an instant, caressing his face with warm calloused fingers.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He asks, plumb eyes scanning every inch of him.

Ishida shakes his head, leaning into his touch.

“Hell’s name. I saw you go over the cliff and,”

“I’m alright. What about the others?”

“They’re fine. Hein got a bit scrapped up, but Myya took care of it.”

“That’s good. And the katchra demon?”

“Ashes.”

“Good, good. So, tell me, how far did I end up?”

“Far enough that we’re going to have to find a place to camp tonight.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Don’t worry, I saw a good spot not too far from here, can you stand?”

Ishida nods and allows Ryuji to help him to his feet. He sways a bit, but denies the offer to be carried. They walk slow and the archer keeps his hand on his back steading him. Each time he shivers, Ryuji pulls him in closer, and he’s grateful for the warmth. They come to a long cave right beside a small waterfall.

“I’ll get a fire going,” Ryuji announces, grabbing some sticks nearby.

Ishida looks over at the waterfall and down at his mud crusted legs.

“I think I’ll go wash up, or…try to anyway.”

The hard pressure water does wonders for his face and skin. His clothes on the other hand are a lost cause. Admittedly, getting them rewet was probably not the best plan, he just couldn’t stand to have them on anymore. He lets the water run over his face one more time, psyching himself up to put on the wet clothes once more. But as he turns to the edge of the pool, his clothes are gone.

“Uh, Ryuji darling,” he calls out, securing the knot on his pants. “Where are my clothes?”

He walks over to where his sopping wet clothes had been clumped in a pile, only to find a dry neatly folded tunic. He runs his hand over the wooven fabric, before slipping it on. It fits him like a dress and nearly hangs off his shoulder. No surprise, given that the owner’s much taller than he is. He folds the sleeves up to his wrists and pulls the loose hole of the neck up to his face relishing the warmth and scent of pine.

Inside the cave, he finds his clothes laid out beside one side of the fire to dry. On the other side, Ryuji sits shirtless, stoking the flames. Ishida takes a moment to trace where the light highlights his muscles and curves. When the archer catches sight of him, lingering, he fumbles the stick in his hand nearly burning himself.

“Hi,” he says, mouth hanging slightly open.

“Hi,” Ishida smiles, fidgeting a bit under the heavy gaze.

“You should come get warm,” Ryuji suggests nodding at the fire.

Ishida complies, moving close to the embers like a moth. As he shifts to sit more comfortably, Ryuji’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into the archers lap. He feels like a furnace, completely cocooned in warmth.

“Better?” He hears Ryuji ask, as he rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Much,” Ishida hums.

Ryuji tucks his nose into the crook of his neck breathing deeply.

“You smell like me,” he says.

Ishida’s stomach sparks like the embers of the fire.

“Probably because I’m wearing your shirt, handsome. Thank you, by the way.”

Ryuji nods and pulls him into closer.

“I like it,” he says, “seeing you in my clothes.”

“Do you now?”

Ryuji answers by pressing a kiss to his neck, just under his ear.

“I do,” he says and Ishida shivers. “You look…you look like you’re mine.”

“Hm,” Ishida hums, shifting to touch Ryuji’s face so their eyes meet. “I am yours, darling.”

He turns to straddle his lap, looping his arms around Ryuji’s neck.

“All yours.”

The corners of the archers lips twitch, desire pooling in his eyes. His kiss is hot, as if he’s trying to burn his very being into Ishida’s lips. He isn’t entirely sure he has the energy, but when those lips move down his neck to his exposed collarbone, he decides to let the archer have his way with him. Oh the horror.

“Any weapons on you?” The leader asks, pointing his dagger towards Ishida.

“None that I’d waste on you.”

Ryuji smirks at the callous remark. The casters tongue is a weapon sharper than steel. There are times he thinks he could very well out quip Takashi though the dumb thug doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment. He scowls and waves the dagger in front of him, as if the fan-like motion is threatening. Ridiculous.

“Alright then,” he says, “hand over your money and jewels. Quickly now!”

Really? They’re robbing them? Ryuji rolls his eyes and looks down over at the shorter man next to him, but he’s already removing the bangles on his wrists. They clang to the ground, one by one. Ryuji bites the inside of his cheek. The three goons would be easy enough to handle, but he can tell there are more hanging around. He knows Ishida can sense it too and that’s the reason for his obedience. He also knows, magic is out of the question, not this close to town, who knows the kind of sensors his father has set up. It’s too dangerous. They’ve no choice, but to comply…for now.

He unties a small pouch with a few coins in it and drops it to the ground while Ishida finishes removing his rings. Afterwards, he tucks his hands behind his back, fiddling with the hidden dagger in his sleeve.

“And the necklace!” The robber says.

Ryuji twitches and turns his attention to Ishida, tension spreading through him like a wire. The caster clutches the pendant with steady fingers.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no. You have plenty there to do with as you please. The necklace stays with me.”

“Listen here wench,” the thug spits, “if you won’t hand it over, I’ll pry it off your corpse!”

He lunges forward and the tension in Ryuji snaps. He hits underneath the thugs hand, releasing his grip on the dagger. In the same motion, he catches it while unsheathing the one hidden in his sleeve. He steps in front of Ishida, one arm outstretched towards the the other two thugs, and one holds the leaders own dagger to the side of his throat.

“Touch him, and die,” he warns.

There’s movement beside him and he turns just as one of the other thugs smashes a vile on the ground. A putrid smelling smoke explodes from the ground. Ryuji grabs for Ishida, but makes the call to take advantage of situation. These aren’t trained soldiers, he tells himself. They just blinded themselves. Using the smoke as cover, he heads for the shadow of the trees to get a better view. As it clears, the three thugs stand huddled together, Ishida in the middle of them, unbothered.

“Where’d he go?” One of them asks, sword still drawn.

“Who cares, lets just take the lot and get on with it.”

“Looks like your friend left ya for me,” the leader says turning to Ishida. “You better hand over that necklace.”

“Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong about that,” the caster answers confidently, “and I told you, the necklace, stays with me.”

A thug on the left grabs Ishida by his arms and pushes him to the ground, while the other takes a fistful of his hair, pulling it back so that he can look up at the leader.

“I told you, if you won’t hand it over,” the leader threatens putting a dagger to Ishida’s cheek, “then I’ll pry it off your corpse.”

Before he can act, Ryuji drops from the trees behind him. He grabs his wrist and twists it, listening to the bones snap as he drops the dagger.

“You were warned,” he tells him, before plunging his own dagger into his throat.

“Why you- hold him!” One of the other two thieves shout.

Ryuji barely has to lean out of the way to doge the too-wide-of-a swing from the thugs short sword. In one swift movement, he disarms him, and flips him onto his back, dislocating his shoulder so he can’t pick up the weapon again. He places his foot on the mans chest to hold him in place, while he aims his dagger high. A grunt stops him and he looks to up to see the other place his sword across Ishida’s neck.

“One wrong move and the wench gets it!” He threatens.

Ryuji lowers his arm and points the dagger at his head.

“Let him go,” he demands. “I won’t ask again.”

The daring thief, yanks on the casters snow-colored hair, baring his neck. A mistake he won’t have time to regret. Ryuji lowers his arm down to his side, waiting, while drawing another from his other sleeve. Then, the moment he sees the thug relax his grip, he throws the small push blade. It lands in the thugs windpipe. Without waiting Ryuji turns his attention back to the thug on the ground. The man tries to bring his fingers to his lips, no doubt attempting to call for help. With one kick, his neck snaps to one side, severing the head from the spinal cord, and his hand falls to the ground.

“Any one else?” Ryuji asks, turning to the forest.

In the distance, he can hear the patter of footsteps disappearing into the forest. Good, he thinks and turns his attention to Ishida.

“Well, that was exciting,” he hears the caster say as he approaches, but all of the sound drowns out the moment he notices a bright red cut across porcelain skin.

He drops to his knees, cradling the others face like a broken vase. How? He wonders, running a careful thumb just under the thin red line. It must have been when that bastard fell back. The sword was too close. It’s his fault. He bites the inside of his cheek. Stupid.

“Darling, if you stare any harder, I may turn to stone,” Ishida says.

“Sorry,” Ryuji mutters, letting go.

“Don’t be. It’s just a little scratch,” Ishida raises his hand to his face, a blueish hue forming around his hand.

Panic startles Ryuji forward as the wound stitches itself back together and he grabs his wrist.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “It’s too dangerous.”

“It can’t be helped,” the caster shrugs, “I hate seeing you worry.”

Ryuji watches as Ishida runs his fingers over the wound, light bits of blue sparkles coming out as he does. Below them, the wound seals itself, skin gluing back together.

“Now all it needs is a kiss.”

Ryuji leans forward without hesitation and places a small kiss where the cut had been, feeling Ishida smile as he does.

“There. All better.” He says, golden eyes sparkling like the sun.

He reaches up and rubs in-between Ryuji’s brow, where they furrow together. The tension that had coiled itself around him bleeds out at the cool and familiar touch and he feels himself smiling. He hands the caster his jewelry back and puts his coin pouch away. Then helps Ishida to his feet, watching as he peers around him at the bodies lying on the forest floor.

“I believe this is when we flee the crime scene,” he tells him.

Ryuji nods, looking out into the dense wood.

“I’m sorry about your bow,” he hears Ishida say. “Though you can always have Takashi buy you a new one, or I can…with his money.”

Ryuji eyes the man beside him curiously.

“What? He’s a Prince, he’s got money to burn. Besides, I’m rather eager to find somewhere private where I can show you how grateful I am to have been defended so valiantly.”

Heat rises to Ryuji’s cheeks as he lets the caster pull him into the woods, his bow forgotten.

Shit, he curses trying to catch is breath. The forest sways and he starts seeing double. Shaking his head, blinding feeling around for his bow vaguely aware of the approaching stomps behind him. Then a gust of heat hits him like he’s been thrown into a furnace. He turns, watching as a tendrils of fire cut through the air like lighting, evaporating into smoke in a flash. Then he’s there, sword flaming, and though his back is to him, Ryuji knows there’s a smug smirk on his face. Before he can chastise his idiotic companion for coming back after he specifically told him to stay away, he’s hit by another wave of heat. Fire pushes the beast back as Takashi swings his sword putting space between them. The beast doesn’t stay scared for long, and soon the Prince is in a dual with its four long horns. The clang of metal on bone reverberates through the forest. Unable to get to his arrows, Ryuji formalizes another plan. He grabs his bow and another kuni from his holster, placing the handle in his mouth. Then, mustering his strength, he gets himself standing and limping, runs towards the creature. He comes up behind it, but it must have eyes in the back of it’s head as it whips it’s tail, sending Ryuji flying again. This time, he hits into something softer.

“Dammit,” he groans trying to get up.

Something vibrates underneath him.

“Hey there,” he hears Takashi chuckle, “fancy meeting you here.”

“There’s nothing fancy about it,” Ryuji says curtly.

“Aw, I’m glad to see you too buddy.”

Stupid. Unserious, buffoon.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I think what you mean to say is: Takashi thank you so much for saving me.”

“Considering the demon still lives and just knocked us on our ass, I am most definitely not saved. You’ll be getting no thanks from me.”

“Well I’m working on it,” the Prince says confidently. “Just a minor set back, so you stay here, while I save you properly.”

“I don’t need to be saved!”

“I expect a warmer welcome when I’m done,” Taksahi calls out, running towards the demon, sword blazing.

Stupid, reckless, pain in the - Ryuji bites the inside of his cheek and checks the ground for his kuni. Ahead of him, Takashi must do something to anger the demon. It growls and swings its tail. Ready for it this time, Ryuji drops his bow and grabs hold of it. He hangs on as the giant lifts into the air. Once the tail hovers over the creatures body, he lets go, landing onto its head, just shy of the horns. He grips the kuni tightly and jabs it into the creatures skull again and again and again. It wails and claws at it’s head, trying to reach him. Ryuji manages to stay on and land more blows, until it rears itself back on it hind legs and shakes its head back and forth. His grip sleeves and he careens into the ground. Takashi yells his name as he falls. The ground is unforgiving as he lands flat on his back. Something cracks and he prays he didn’t break a rib.

The monster lands back on all fours, ooze leaking from the wounds in its head. It snarls turning towards him, gearing for another attack. As quick as he can he rolls and pushes himself upright. He shifts his weight backwards to propel himself forward, but the wound on his leg screams and his knee gives out. The creature charges and swings its claw. Ryuji grits his teeth, prepping for pain, but he feels nothing. Because instead of letting him be hit, his hero-obsessed, moronic Prince slid in between them. He stands firm, feet sinking into the dirt at the weight of the massive paw trying to crush him. That’s when Ryuji notices the drops of blood pooling on the surface. While Takashi managed to block two of the demons claws with his sword, the other cut across his side leaving a gash. The demon growls and pushes down, the pressure cause more blood to leak out of the wound.

“Takashi!” Ryuji hisses.

“One second,” the Prince grunts, resetting his footing. “Busy rescuing.”

The sword in his hands ignites, surprising the demon, and causing it to jump back. Takashi sways forward, but steadies himself, holding the sword out in front.

“Might want to closer your eyes,” he says, fire beginning to channel in front of the tip of his blade. “This is going to be a big one.”

Ryuji waits until the heat and light of the blast is too much to bear. A foul smell of smoke and charred flesh fills the air. He reaches out, catching Takashi as he falls forward, and moves around so he can put the barely conscious Prince on his back.

“Did I get him?” He hears him mumble.

“Yes,” Ryuji grunts lifting him up. “You got him.”

Moving slow, he finds a spot under a collection of trees, where the branches create a canopy. He leans Takashi against a large trunk and pulls out a roll of bandages and a small vile of antiseptic, grateful that Myya had these made for him to carry. He douses part of the bandage in the liquid and presses it firmly to the open wound.

“Ow! Warn a guy,” Takashi hisses, sitting up more straight.

“Oops.” Ryuji says flatly even if he did it on purpose.

“How’s it looking Doc?”

“You’ll live to be stupid another day.”

“Harsh,” Takashi pouts.

There’s that typical playfulness in his tone and Ryuji can feel his blood boiling as if he can turn himself into a Dimian. He dumps the rest of the vile onto Takashi’s wound, ignoring his protests, and rolls out the bandage so he can wrap it securely.

“Hang on now, save some of that for yourself,” Takashi whines. “That’s a nasty cut on your leg.”

Ryuji ignores him and pulls the bandage firmly around the Princes abdomen. The cut on my leg is nothing compared to yours, he says to himself. You’re lucky that thing didn’t cut you in two.

“Ow, easy.”

Every time he squirms, Ryuji finds himself pressing down harder on the wound, his frustration building.

“I think we’re good,” Takashi tries to tell him. “Save the rest for your leg.”

“Shut up and let me work.”

“Hey, I’m just saying—ow!”

“If you would stop moving, it wouldn’t hurt so bad.”

“Would you ease up a bit, it’s like you’re getting some sick pleasure out of this.”

“Ha. Pain’s never taught you anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Ryuji shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek.

Stupid, he thinks, feeling around his other hidden pockets to check if he has more bandages. Why do you always have to be so reckless? Why couldn’t you just stay away like I told you? Takashi’s blood is already seeping through the cotton, instinctively he presses his hand to it. He must do it too hard because the Prince yelps and some color drains from his face.

“Keep pressure on it,” Ryuji instructs.

“Yeah I got that. Don’t ever go into medicine ok? You’ve got the bedside manner of an Udron troll.”

“Well maybe if you would quit moving and running your mouth, what I’m trying to do would actually work,” Ryuji snaps, tearing off a piece of his own shirt to use as more bandage.

“What is your problem?” Takashi questions. “Why are you acting like this?”

“You weren’t supposed to be here!” Ryuji shouts, fear and frustration pouring out of him like hot magma.

“If I hadn’t been, who would have rescued you?”

This time, Ryuji sees fire.

“I don’t need or want to be rescued - least of all by you! Hell’s name Takashi I don’t know how many times I have to say to get it through that thick skull of yours. I am a soldier, bread from birth for a single purpose, to protect you. Because you are not replaceable. There are dozens like me, there is only one crown Prince; you know this! Yet you’re constantly throwing yourself into harms way like an idiot!”

“Oh, I’m the idiot? Look who’s talking!”

“I’m not-“

“No. You listen to me Ryuji I-think-my-life-is-worth-shit Zenko! I don’t care how much your father has brainwashed you into thinking you’re some faceless weapon. You are my brother, my best friend, and you are not replaceable to me! So if I can put my life on the line to make sure that I don’t ever have to face a world where you aren’t in it - you bet your ass I’ll do it every. single. time.”

Ryuji stays quiet staring at his own reflection bathed in red. I know you will, he thinks. Because that’s the kind of person you are and that’s why I have to fight so hard to protect you.

“Let’s get you to Ishida,” he says.

“Oh, not going to argue with me?” Takashi beams smartly. “As you shouldn’t because I’m right and I’m the Prince so what I say goes.”

He could argue, but there would be no point in it. You don’t get it, he thinks as he lets Takashi lean into him. Because you think if you saved me, everything would be fine. That I could go on knowing that you gave everything for me, but you’re wrong. Because a world without you is an endless night and I’m so tired of the dark.