Small disclaimer: I think I low key went into this with the intention of, eventually, turning this into an original story (i.e. with OCs based loosely off the characters you're reading about now) so if, in the future, they feel more ooc (as they do to me), that's probably why.
Also, most of this story is pretty self-indulgent at this point anyway (at least where I am with writing it, which is like... chapter 12 lmao) so while it still follows the plot I laid out for it, that's another reason it may feel off-kilter or ooc. Just. A head's up, my dudes. This is by no means my most serious work—especially for Kiribaku. That is something that'll come... pretty far down the line, but it is something I already have in the works and something I'm stupidly excited about, so ye. Just wanted to make that clear so y'all don't attack me or whatevs later. I mean, I don't think you would—y'all seem pretty damn nice—but I guess this is for my own peace of mind ^^
Anywhore, without further ado, here's chapter 3!
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The whole time I'm being cuffed, gagged, and dragged back up to the throne room, my heart is pounding. Not because I'm afraid of the queen's judgment. Not because I'm afraid they're going to hurt me. Not even because I'm scared they're going to take my life. It's because I'm terrified that the piece of shit of a prince, who I realize I can barely recall the face of save for that scar, blabbered about the damn 'matching scars' or whatever.
For as long as I can remember, the whole goddamn world talked about scars and soulmates. Soulmates and scars. Matching scars, and how you and your soulmate are connected by them. If you get hurt and the wound will scar, that same scar will appear in the same spot on your soulmate's body and vice versa. That's how people find each other, I guess; they compare scars, once they're close enough (though some do it with complete strangers, just for kicks). I've heard stories of some even intentionally hurting themselves in unique ways just to find their soulmate out of some shitty desperation or whatever. My mom found my dad by matching scars, and I know several other people who live down in the slums with me that have matching scars and a bond that can only be explained by that bullshit soulmate stuff.
But the fucking prince can't be mine. No fucking way in hell. It doesn't make any goddamn sense. If the universe is so dead set on people finding their soulmates, and having soulmates be this person you have an unquestionable, unbreakable bond with whether it's that cheesy, mushy romantic crap or just friendship or a strong partnership, why in the hell would it pair me up with some asshole who gets everything handed to him? Especially when I've had to struggle my entire life because of the bullshit system in this country? How the everloving fuck am I supposed to relate to that?
That's why it's coincidence. I don't care how matching the scars are. I don't care. I don't. He's not my soulmate. And I'll be damned sure that if he blabbered to his parents about it, I'll do absolutely everything in my power to get the fuck out of there.
It's only when the elevator doors to the throne room are opening again that it occurs to me that unless he is the biggest dumbfuck on the face of the planet, he wouldn't have told them unless he wants to get in trouble for sneaking into the basement. The feeling of relief that floods through me is almost painful, it's so quick, but then it's replaced by a feeling of dread to see what the queen decided for my fate, seeing as, unfortunately, my life is quite literally in her hands.
The throne room is a lot more packed this morning than it was before. What looks like nearly the entire royal family has gathered on the steps just in front of her throne, and there are more guards. The place is lit by the golden rays of the morning sun filtering in through the glass wall behind her throne, so the chandeliers, catching it and casting pinpoints of yellow light across the room, have been turned off. It's eerily quiet, and every single set of eyes is on me.
Bet it's not often one person has the attention of the majority of the royal family and every sucker who works for them. Despite my situation, knowing they're probably gonna give me a punishment 'beyond my wildest dreams' or whatever it is they do, I can't help feeling special. Seriously—how often do people manage to break into the palace and have to answer to the queen herself, let alone the rest of this damn family of pricks?
The feeling doesn't last long, though. I'm hauled to virtually the same place as last night and shoved toward the ground like I'm no more than a sack of fucking potatoes (though if I was, at least my mom and friends would have something to eat for a while). It's not before I see each of their faces, though, when my face is pushed toward the floor, forced to bow like a 'proper citizen' or someshit. Not a single one of them looks sympathetic. If anything, they look disgusted and if not, they're completely passive. Unfeeling, like fucking robots or something. And that includes the damn prince, who's perched like a fucking dog right beside his mother, his bright red hair pulled up into a bun.
To my somewhat surprise, they're not all dressed in fancy gowns with different sized crowns to indicate their status or whatever. Yeah, they wear fancy clothes, but they don't look all that much different from the upper-class citizens I snuck past on my way to this giant place.
That's all I have time to take in before I get a face full of rose-smelling carpet. Seriously, this shit smells like fucking flowers, even though people walk on it. I get an image of someone walking up and down it each morning and night spraying it with whatever the fuck I'm smelling and getting paid more an hour than an entire family down in the slums manages to gather in an entire year (or more).
"Thank you for retrieving the prisoner, Shouta," the queen addresses the head guard regally.
"It was no trouble. He's too weak to put up much of a fight, anyway," responds Shouta.
Fuck you, I want to spit in his face.
"I can't say I'm surprised," the queen responds, and a cold chuckle travels around the room. "Have you gotten a name out of him yet?"
Clearly, the prince didn't open his big mouth.
"I did, Milady," says another voice, one that's way too familiar. Fuck. I forgot about the shitty guard who was there last night...
"Oh? Care to share, Hanta?" She says it expectantly, and despite the form of her question there's no way Hanta has a choice but to spill the beans.
"Of course. He says his name is Katsuki."
Hmph. What a fucking prick. Now I can't help but wonder if he's gonna rat the prince out or if he's come up with some sort of lie about how he found out.
"Katsuki," the queen repeats. It's a deadpan, with exactly zero emotion. She doesn't even spit it out or say it like it tastes bad. Huh. "Did you come up with a last name?"
"Uhm... unfortunately, no, Milady. I apologize."
"It's of no consequence. I'm grateful you got what you did. Raise your head, Katsuki."
The hand holding my face to the floor releases and I almost, almost don't even look up, just to be defiant. After all, what have I got to lose at this point? But I do, just because I want to see the look on her face again. I want to see the look on the rest of their faces, knowing my name now.
They haven't changed much. I'm still being looked at like I'm a filthy rat in their kitchen cabinets or a spider who's made a nest in the corner of their room. And yet I can almost guarantee I've got more goddamn humanity in my pinkie finger than all of these assholes have combined.
"I haven't decided your punishment yet, Katsuki, because I thought it would be wisest to consult the rest of my family about what to do with you. Your breach into our home and attempt at theft of our belongings is something that affects us all, so it's only right to take their opinions into consideration."
"I say kill him," mutters a blond one—the one who looks the least human. He sits toward the end of the stairs and he leans back casually, unlike the others. "He's nothing more than a rat, obviously. This is a waste of time to me."
"No need for such haste, Neito," the queen says calmly, causing the blond fuckbucket to click his tongue in annoyance but say nothing else.
"His crimes against us don't quite call for execution," murmurs one who's got... two different colors in his hair like a weird half-and-half hybrid or someshit, while certain patches of his skin are whiter than the rest. He sits closer to the queen than the blond guy and he looks more like a fucking prince than the prince himself. Figures. Must be a younger brother or something.
"I agree, Shouto."
"Perhaps imprisonment is a more fitting punishment," Miyako speaks up for the first time. Her voice is much higher than I'd anticipated, if I'm being honest, especially with such height and build she bears.
"Hmm," mumbles the queen thoughtfully. "Any other thoughts?"
"Imprisonment does seem appropriate," agrees someone else—an older, balding dude. "Take away the boy's freedom. See how he feels when something important is stripped from him for a while. It'll teach the greedy thing just how much he values what he already has."
What do I already have?! I want to fucking scream. I don't have shit! Going home is going back to rundown, falling apart buildings, no money, no food, and a panic of how the fuck to survive winter, as well as a couple thousand other people who have the exact same struggle I do! Does this asshole even know what 'greedy' means?!
What they don't know is that, to a person like me, imprisonment is a fucking treat. 3 meals a day (because if they don't want to kill me, they're obviously not gonna let me starve), consistent shelter and warmth, especially with winter coming. If I didn't have an entire town of people waiting for my return and needing me as one of the most able-bodied people who live down there, no way in hell can I afford this imprisonment shit.
But of course, with my mouth bound and my position as the "criminal" they're pegging me for, there isn't a damn thing I can do. Not one, even when in my eyes, they're the criminals for neglecting an entire city of thousands upon thousands of people who are citizens of their country.
"Makes sense," muses the queen thoughtfully, still eyeing me like a bug. In fact, I don't think a single one of them has looked away from me since I was forced out of the elevator. "Depriving him of sunlight and social interaction for a good length of time..."
My eyes flick to the prince who, ironically, glances toward his mother. I can't tell for sure from the distance I'm at, but he almost looks... panicked. I vaguely wonder if he's going to say something about the "soulmate" bullshit or whatever, but he hasn't said a single word since this whole meeting started. I wonder if he's not even allowed, despite being Prince Eijirou.
"I've made my dec—"
"Wait," the prince cuts into his mother's sentence, seemingly surprising the rest of the royal shitbags because they all twitch simultaneously, like fucking robots; some even falter in their staring at me for a split second.
"Eijirou—"
"I know it isn't my turn to speak, but I'd like to propose an idea."
I'll be damned. Is this little fucker coming to my rescue? Even breaking the rules for me?
The queen seems tense, but she lets him speak. "Alright. Let's hear it."
"I think imprisonment is a little too harsh," he begins matter-of-factly. "After all, he clearly wasn't trying to harm anybody and he didn't break anything when he came in." The queen visibly relaxes as he speaks. "Maybe if he had or if this wasn't the first time he did something like this, imprisonment would do. But I think we should give him a chance—give him a lighter punishment, but one that still shows we mean business."
The queen's eyes trail back to me and then once again to her son, thoughtfully. I'll be damned—she's actually considering this!
"Do you have an idea for punishment?" she asks.
The prince doesn't miss a beat. "Put him to work. We're understaffed at the moment, right? Maybe he can help pick up the slack."
The queen sits back a bit, proving her pin-straight back doesn't have some sort of invisible rod keeping her sitting so damn upright. Once again her eyes move back to me as she says, "What do you think, Miyako?"
"Our son has always been a rather deep thinker," Miyako begins. "After hearing his innocent words, I think we've been a bit too hasty. Too harsh."
"You're saying he has a point."
"Indeed. This boy, while he's broken laws, is still only a boy who's caused but one offense."
"Two, if you count both breaking in and attempting to steal."
"Two offenses that were unsuccessful. A punishment that suits more of a warning seems to make more sense in this situation."
"Do you believe we should put him to work as Eijirou suggests?"
"I think it's a fair idea."
"And what do the rest of you think?"
The room remains silent for a few seconds that drag on. A few of the family members shift uncomfortably within it while I'm sitting here on my aching knees, my neck stiff from being in such an awkward position so long, and my mouth completely dry from this shitty gag.
"I still believe imprisonment is a better option," says the old man from before, "but the decision is ultimately in your hands, my queen."
"I agree with the prince," says the half-and-half guy in a surprisingly bored baritone.
"And why do you say that, Shouto?" the queen questions.
"It's better to show we mean business in a constructive way than to make it seem as though we're trying to rule by fear alone."
"A good point," the queen muses thoughtfully. "Any other opinions?"
"I second that notion," pipes up some silver-haired guy who looks way too burly and muscular to be part of this 'elegant' family of fuckwads. "With the rise in crime around the capital, I think we can let this serve as an example."
"It's too soft a punishment," the old man mutters. "Won't teach the kid a thing. Greed is one of the seven deadly sins, you know."
"As is wrath," the queen says—almost mutters, like she's growing annoyed with that asshole. Guess even queens don't follow the 'respect your elders' rule—not that I can say I'm too surprised about that.
"My Queen is much more merciful than you believe her to be, Takamasa," Miyako interjects.
"Hmph," grunts the old guy. "Far too merciful, if you ask me." He says it like he's trying to mutter it under his breath, but that doesn't stop the retort from traveling around the room anyway.
"Times have changed."
"What does that matter? If my brother were still here, and still King—"
"And that'll be where I'm cutting you off, Takamasa," the queen says with a kind of authority that seems to make the whole room go still, even though she hasn't raised her voice at all. She doesn't even have to say anything more to get the guy to shut up, even if he does continue to glare at me like I'm a dirty mouse on the floor, looking more than a little displeased.
"Are there any other thoughts about Eijirou's proposal?"
"I think I agree with Shouto," murmurs a small girl near the end of the stairs.
"Me too," says someone else. A collection of agreement seems to go around the rest of the family before the queen sits back up.
"The decision is made, then," she says. "We'll put the boy to work as punishment."
Great. Just what I need—to be enslaved, to do the royal family's dirty work and clean their disgusting golden toilets and probably end up with some sort of disease...
"It only raises the problem of security, however," Miyako pipes up. "Of course he can't move about our home unsupervised, but we're currently short staffed on security personnel and those we do have are required at their posts."
"You're right..." the queen murmurs.
Ugh. Can't these fuckers just let me off with a warning? As much as my people need shit, you can believe I'm never setting foot in this shitty, sparkling palace ever again once I've left. It's not worth it. So far this whole ordeal has just been a waste of my time; it's not like we're getting any further away from winter or the most brutal time of year for the people down in the slums...
"What if..." the prince begins, and then seems to think better of it and shuts his mouth.
"Eijirou?" the queen asks.
"...I was just gonna ask, what if I supervised him? But hear me out!" he says quickly before anyone can protest. "He's already been searched so it's not like he's hiding any weapons. Plus, I've been in combat and self-defense training since I was ten. I think I'll be able to handle it if anything happens."
The fucker's parents look skeptical, at best, while I have an annoyed burning sensation in the back of my throat just knowing the real reason he wants to do this.
"If you don't believe I'm capable, ask Ryoto-sensei." The little fucker seems like he's actually pleading now, and it makes me sick to my fucking stomach. Seriously, how goddamn invested in this whole soulmate culture bullshit can one person be? Especially when you're the prince of a fucking country and can have absolutely anything you want?
"What do you think, Miyako?" The queen addresses her wife by actually looking up at her for the first time.
"I think it would be wise to give our son a chance at something like this," Miyako says. "I've seen him train. He's extremely skilled and there's no better teacher than hands-on experience."
With that, the queen looks over the rest of her family. "Any objections?"
The guy who'd been saying they should just lock me the fuck up looks kinda like he's about to explode, but he doesn't say anything more. No one does.
"Shouta, do you believe this boy to be of any great threat?" she asks of the main guard with the scraggly hair.
"No," the guy says immediately, like he's spent more than five minutes at a time with me, had a decent conversation with me in the past twelve hours I've been here. "He's got very little muscle to speak of and probably doesn't weigh much more than a hundred pounds. I can't see him doing any serious damage, if any at all."
I almost want to snort at the irony of a guy who's got such poor judge in character has worked his way up to be the head guard in the royal fucking palace, of all places. Whatever. He can suck a toe, and then I'll be the one who's laughing when I've proved him wrong.
Right after that, my punishment is decided—I get to work for these fuckwads against my will, be away from people who need me for an indefinite amount of time, all the while being supervised by a delusional shitrag who thinks I'm his soulmate or whatever. Great.