( slight TW: sexual assault )
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"Do you know how easily I could take advantage of you? I'm not saying I ever would, but we're not related, you know that."
"I just want you to be more cautious around men. I know what they can be like, trust me."
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Many Years Ago:
The Mizuki Kingdom
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"Alright, Hiro," Father says, pushing his son forward, "you're fifteen now. You're becoming a responsible young man, which means you need to start meeting possible wives."
"Possible wives?" Hiro cringes, "I'm not even eighteen yet."
"You're right, but imagine something happens to me." King Mizuki pats his son on the back. "You're to take my place, son."
"I don't need a wife to be a good ruler," Hiro argues, pulling away from his father's touch, "and nothing is going to happen to you."
King Mizuki waves a hand dismissively. "Now, now, don't act like a child. Tonight at the banquet, I want you to put yourself out there. Find a nice lady you can talk to."
Hiro rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say."
That gets his father to leave him alone, and he groans at the thought of having to pretend to converse with the sassy noble ladies.
It's not like he dislikes them; he just doesn't like them like that. He's different, but none of his family knows. Not even his sister.
"Hiro!" She says, appearing out of nowhere, "are you excited for the banquet tonight?"
Hiro can't lie to her. "Meh."
"But there's going to be lots of food," she exclaims, "and people in fancy clothes. And music! We get to dance!"
"I've never been good at dancing, you know that." Hiro laughs at his sister's enthusiasm.
"Well, I have the guest list," she waves a piece of paper in her hand, "it's mostly noblemen attending, though."
"And their daughters, I presume?" Hiro sighs. Now he's starting to realize why father is holding this banquet.
A fancy dinner? A dance? Noblemen and their daughters?
This thing was set up just so Hiro could meet some girls.
He huffs, heading back to his room but trying not to show his disproval.
"See you at the banquet," he tells his sister.
She waves a goodbye to him, smiling.
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Of course, Hiro was forced to wear his tightest, most uncomfortable suit.
The eating part of the banquet passes by in a blur. Any girls that talk to him just talk about how rich they are. It makes him frustrated, and he glares at his father throughout it all.
When the dancing part of the banquet comes around, however, he has no choice but to interact with the clingy daughters. He has nothing against females as a whole; the rich ones are just usually more annoying. He doesn't see the appeal.
He is surprised, though, when another boy asks him to dance.
"I'm Arata," the boy bows, offering his hand, "I saw you over here alone. We're the only boys here, so I thought you could use some company."
The nobleman's son has brown, curly hair and tan skin. Hiro is glad for the change of company.
"My sister isn't brave enough to talk to you," Arata laughs, taking Hiro's hand, "she keeps telling me how good-looking you are."
Hiro chuckles nervously. Something in the stranger's gaze hardens.
"Yeah, it's really funny." Arata grimaces.
What's with the sudden change in atmosphere? Did I say something wrong? Hiro wonders to himself, despite the fact he hasn't even said anything to the boy yet.
"Is that your sister?" Hiro asks, not sure what to say to the stranger. He nods to a girl staring at the two in the corner, with the same hair as Arata.
"Yeah." Arata looks at her, sticking out his tongue. "She's a coward."
Hiro forces a laugh again, thinking the boy is making a joke. He doesn't laugh, though.
This is more awkward than being around those girls, Hiro thinks, is that a bad thing?
Music starts to play, and Arata rolls his eyes, then turns to Hiro.
"Hey, prince, wanna ditch this place?" He smiles warmly, as if he wasn't acting cold before, "My sister won't stop staring and this music really kills the vibe."
Although Hiro thinks the boy is strange, he follows him, kind of glad to leave the stuffy atmosphere.
Arata brings him to the hallway, right outside of the door.
For some reason, Hiro's heart is pounding. Arata is cute, but strange. Still, he rarely gets a chance to see boys his age, not including the stable boy.
The brown-haired noble's son wraps an arm around Hiro. Arata is taller than the young prince, and probably a few years older.
"You know," he smirks, looking down at him, "my sister isn't the only one who thinks you're good-looking."
Hiro lifts a brow. Is this guy . . . trying to flirt? What is he supposed to say to that?
"I've also noticed some things about you," Arata hums, "You don't like those girls, do you?"
Hiro's heart is still pounding, but now it's from fear. "Wh-What are you talking about?"
"I can feel your heart beat. You getting excited, prince?"
Arata's grip is strong on Hiro's shoulder, and he pulls away, to no avail. The noble's son jerks him forward, and now they're chest to chest.
"Playing hard to get, huh?" He whispers, "Just because you're a royal? Let me tell you, my dad's plenty rich. We can run off together, just you and I, like the princes and princesses in the stories."
Arata's voice is hot on Hiro's cheek. He's smaller than him, so he can't break away.
"Stop," the young prince says, "Anyone could see this."
"But doesn't that make it all the more thrilling?"
Arata's lips are forceful and his hand on Hiro's face is rough. The prince presses his forearms against the bigger boy's chest, trying to push him away. He sucks in a breath when Arata's hand trails down the front of his thigh.
Hiro, in a desperate attempt to break free of the non-consensual touching, brings up his knee into the strange boy's groin, putting all of his anger and fear into the jerking motion. Arata groans, crumbling to the floor.
Hiro's hands are shaking as he stares at the boy, who's writhing on the ground and cussing.
"Wh-What the hell, man?" He moans in pain, "You didn't tell me not to touch you."
"D-Don't touch me, then!" Hiro whispers, his face flared red, "I-I'm the future king!"
"Ha, you're all red," Arata laughs, not standing up from the floor, "that was kind of hot—"
Hiro stares down at the boy on the floor, quickly inhaling.
Then, he kicks him in the chest, pummeling his body over and over and over again, until guards notice the commotion from inside the banquet. They come outside and stop him, helping up Arata, who's crying now.
"Get him out of here!" Hiro shouts, starting to cry himself, "Make him stay away forever!"
No one really figured out what happened that day at the banquet, but Arata, his parents, and his sister were banned from the palace.
And at the tender age of fifteen, Hiro's first kiss was stolen from him by a strange boy at his father's banquet.
He hates wearing suits. He hates banquets. He hates people like Arata.
Hiro still has his nightmares.
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"Do you know how easily I could take advantage of you? I'm not saying I ever would, but we're not related, you know that."
"I just want you to be more cautious around men. I know what they can be like, trust me."
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