“In the
name of all that’s sacred, Mitsuru – QUIT!”
Indecorously, Masahiro Fujiwara
booted his kid brother Mitsuru out of the driver’s seat. Masahiro couldn’t help but feel more than a
little annoyed: the nerve of Mitsuru to
think that he could drive their father’s brand new SUV-mode hover-type
(air-cushion vehicle)! The kid had just
turned sixteen that morning – two years too young to be given a driver’s license,
let alone a student’s permit!
“Vi’s got her license”, Mitsuru
sniffed; disappointed that he wouldn’t be allowed to drive. “Besides, Dad said I could
drive: he’s been teaching me.”
“Mitsuru, Vi lived in California –
the rules are different there. We’re in
Japan, remember?”
Contemptuously, Masahiro held the keys out of his brother’s reach. “So you can’t drive.”
“I’ll just bet you Dad’s going to
let Violet drive.” Mitsuru sourly
plunked himself into the front passenger seat.
“Say…!” He eyed his older
brother skeptically. “How come you’re
going, Masahiro? I thought Dad said Mamo-san
would fetch Violet from Narita and I’d go with him?”
“Well, er…” Masahiro colored in
embarrassment. “Um, I’ve missed Violet,
too, y’know.”
“Yeah, right.” Mitsuru rolled down the window and began
yelling, “Dad, Masahiro’s trying to drive the SUV without your permission!”
“Is that right?” Before Masahiro could get his brother to
shut up, Yoshiyuki Fujiwara, Grand Duke of Nara, came out of the manor and into
the garage. Along with him came his eldest
son, Mamoru, who spoke with a quiet dignity about matters in the Imperial
Court. Mamo-san had just arrived from
Tokyo and was obviously not pleased with something he’d seen there: his face looked like a storm cloud. Yoshiyuki listened, then waved his second
son out of the SUV. “Get out of there,
Masahiro; you’re needed here at the manor.
We have guests tonight so you’d better stay here and help Masami with
the arrangements for tonight.”
“Why can’t Masakazu take over for
me?” Masahiro whined as if he were six instead of 28. All the same, he got out of the car and handed the keys to his
eldest brother.
“Because Violet can’t stand you and
you’re in a fair way of getting beaten to an unrecognizable pulp every time the
two of you are together.” Sagely, Yoshiyuki
waved him on into the manor. “Poor
Mitsuru wouldn’t know how to handle a fight between you and your sister.” When Masahiro, still grumbling as it were,
had gone inside the house, Yoshiyuki put a hand on Mamoru’s shoulder. “It would be best that she learned about the
current situation at the Palace from you as you’re there more often than I
am. If I were to fetch her, she’d
pester me for details and I wouldn’t quite know what to say.”
Mamoru grinned at his father. “Of course”, he agreed. Bowing, he took leave of his father and
walked up to the SUV. Instead of going
to the driver’s seat, however, he went over to the passenger side and handed
the keys to Mitsuru. “You’re a better
driver than I am”, he told the lanky sixteen-year-old. “Move over and lemme in.” The two winked at each other. Although Mamoru was sixteen years older than
his youngest brother, the two were virtually inseparable and were the best of
friends.
Yoshiyuki waved goodbye as the two
went on their way. He sighed as he
watched them drive out of sight and smiled fondly at the thought of his only
daughter, finally home again after five years in the United States where she’d
been sent for training. Murasaki,
nicknamed Violet, had been taken from her family on her eleventh birthday and
was sent to study at the University of California in Berkeley. Quite the intellectual was Murasaki and had
been able to get her bachelor’s degree at the age of fourteen. She’d spent the last year working at the
American factor of Flash-in-the-Pan Productions, a top-ranking Japanese
animation company, as a scriptwriter and conceptual developer.
Her father had to broaden his grin a
little as he entered the manor. The
scriptwriting job was actually there to hide the real reason why
Murasaki was in America. She was there
to learn everything she could about politics; international diplomacy, military
tactics, and goodness knew how many more things not usually inculcated by the
mind of an average teenaged girl. But,
then again, Murasaki was never really the sort whom anyone could consider
average.
“We’re
driving into Tokyo proper?”
Mitsuru stared at his older brother
in bewilderment. “Whatever for?”
“We’re going to the Palace,
Mitsu-kun”, Mamoru explained. “Somebody
wants to see Violet, too.”
“Princess Rei, of course”, Mitsuru
smirked. “It’s gonna be a regular
girls’ gabfest, if you ask me!”
“Yeah, but have you ever heard a
gabfest where the girls were chattering about guns the way they’d chatter about
boys?”
“Several times: every time Cousin
Midori flies in from Manila for Christmas or when Miss Aoi and Miss Maria drop
by for tea.” Slyly, Mitsuru slid a
sidelong glance at his brother. “Say,
how is Miss Maria, niisan?”
“She’s fine”, Mamoru replied
pleasantly. Maria Taira was his fiancée
as well as his co-worker in the Imperial Court – but that did not mean that she
was a mere lady-in-waiting. “Busy,
though. Maria-chan says that someone’s
trying to get into the security network.”
“Do you suppose it might have
something to do with the death threats His Majesty has been receiving?”
Mamoru shrugged, but his eyes were
worried. “I really wouldn’t know”, he
admitted. “We are keeping a
keener watch, though. The Empress
herself is arming herself to the teeth just to make sure nothing happens. – and
she hasn’t been armed to the teeth for nearly thirty years!” He suddenly looked hopeful. “It’s a good thing Violet’s finally home: it
would be good to have an extra ningyō hanging out at the Imperial
Palace.”
Ningyō. The very word brought the truth slamming
into the Fujiwara boys’ faces. It was
the reason why their only sister, Mitsuru’s twin Murasaki, had left home. She was carefully being groomed to take her
place at the side of the Imperial Family as one of their staunchest
defenders. When the lots had been drawn
at the time of Murasaki’s birth and that of their cousin Midori Urushihara, the
exalted – albeit precarious – position of guarding the Imperial Family had
fallen upon the Fujiwaras of Nara. They
were not strangers to the role, though; the Fujiwaras had been guarding the
Imperial Family since the Heian Period.
Otherwise, they would not have earned their place in history. For a Fujiwara, close proximity to the
throne was always a great honor that carried a grave set of responsibilities. They were, thankfully, not a race of
shirkers.
Ningyō – woman of valor. Most Western translators thought it meant
the same thing as courtier – if not courtesan.
But nothing could be farther from the truth; the ningyō were
Imperial Bodyguards of the highest caliber and often served as both defenders
and advisers. It was also a well-known
fact that many Imperial princes chose ningyō for their wives: they were, after all, more beautiful, more
intelligent, and definitely wiser and braver than the average. Besides, years of close association with
them ruined the princes for any other women.
Or such was the case of most!
The current generation of ningyō
was mostly made up of the daughters of women who’d been ningyō. Rei Yamato, ningyō of the Palace
Grounds, was none less than Princess Rei herself, the Emperor’s younger
child. Her mother, Empress Naoko, had
been ningyō herself; was it not fair that she should follow in her
mother’s footsteps? Murasaki Fujiwara
was the ningyō of Nara; her mother Rumiko had been the sister of the
Grand Duke of Kyōto and had been ningyō of that city. Kyōto was now the domain of Midori
Urushihara whose mother, Kei, had been the only sister of the Grand Duke of
Nara and was ningyō of the Fujiwara Stronghold. Empress Naoko’s older brother, the Grand
Duke of Tokyo, was very proud to have produced two ningyō instead of
just one. When Maria Taira proved to be
an expert at network management, the Emperor relieved her of her charge and set
her to work with Mamoru Fujiwara’s team at the Palace. Her younger sister, Aoi, took over and
proved just as competent. Their aunt
was, quite understandably, more than a little pleased.
Unfortunately, it was expected that
there would always be one defective member of the team. To her father’s regret and chagrin, it
proved to be the ningyō of Osaka, Maruka Minamoto. To describe Ruka would be to describe a
klutz of the worst kind, and a coward to boot.
In fact, things were so bad that Kenichi Minamoto, the Grand Duke of
Osaka, often lamented that he should’ve adopted a daughter had he only known
how inept his own would grow up to be.
It was just the Minamotos’ luck that Ruka would have to look after the
eldest son of the Emperor’s youngest sister who’d settled in Hong Kong. That kid was something else, too.
Mamoru was glad that his sister was
spared from playing nursemaid to Prince Sorayama Ang. Knowing Murasaki’s temper, she’d have torn him to ribbons within
seconds of meeting him. She never liked
him even as a child. She always said
that, for all his nice ways and friendly words, something did not seem right
about Princess Satsuki’s eldest son.
Lucky for Murasaki, the master she’d been assigned to knew her so well
(and vice versa) that they would get along just fine – or so Mamoru hoped!
“You should’ve told me we were going
to the Palace”, Mitsuru grumbled to his brother as they parked within walking
distance. “I could’ve dressed
properly.” Mitsuru was in jeans and an
oversized shirt – typical gear for a schoolboy.
“No need to.” Mamoru pointed to two figures approaching
them. “Here they come.”
“Milord Fujiwara!” The tall, slender Princess Rei – dressed
casually in a long denim skirt and a cardigan twin-set – looked furious as she
marched towards them. The Fujiwaras
were well aware that beneath her sweetly pretty outfit was a regular mini
arsenal.
“Why, your Highness!” Mamoru
exclaimed in mock-chagrin. “I didn’t
know you were coming along as well!”
“Hey, I probably wouldn’t have come
if my beloved big brother here – who just so happens to be a good two inches shorter
than I am! – hadn’t been blabbing on the videophone!” She jerked her thumb at the slender,
languid-seeming youth dressed in a visual cacophony of pink shirt and green tie
over black pants.
“Come and show a little respect,
Rei”, Mamoru teased her. “He is
still the Crown Prince, after all.”
Crown Prince Kunihiko giggled at the
exchange. He’d meant to sneak out of
the Palace without any bodyguards and would’ve succeeded if his sister hadn’t
overheard the conversation he had with Mamoru prior to the latter’s departure
from Nara. He didn’t mind having his
sister along; heck, it was better than having his mother along. That would’ve been unbearable; his
mother was such a battle-axe these days!
He couldn’t blame her for worrying, though. Someone was tossing death threats in his father’s way. Since Emperor Junichi was much loved and
well respected by both his people and the world at large, even the faintest
threat was a cause for alarm.
“C’mon in, Highness.” Mitsuru opened the doors by way of the side
panel. The Fujiwaras could afford to be
informal with the Crown Prince. Mamoru
had been his mentor when he was starting in the animation business and he’d
been a schoolmate of Masahiro’s.
Currently, he taught animation technique at the university the
precocious Mitsuru was attending and the boy was one of his most apt
students. “I’ve finished the
storyboards you wanted us to do for the midterms. Perhaps you’d like to grade them before we drive you and the
Princess back here?”
“Didn’t your brother tell you that
I’d be hanging out at your house tonight?”
Kunihiko raised a playful eyebrow at his student. “It’s your birthday, right, Fujiwara-kun? Yours and Murasaki-chan’s?”
“Aw, jeez!” Abashed, Mitsuru was quick to
apologize. “Tonight’s Violet’s
investiture ceremony; sorry, Highness.
I forgot.”
“Forgiven.” Kunihiko suddenly grew pensive. “Mamo-san, have you told Violet anything
about what’s been happening here?”
“I have”, Mamoru nodded as Mitsuru
started the vehicle.
“Mamma’s been the pits to live
with”, Rei muttered ruefully.
“Over-trained, I suppose? I can
smell trouble a mile away, but Mamma’s being paranoid lately.”
“Can’t say I blame her, Rei”, Mamoru
chimed in. “Remember: your mother was a part of the team that went
after your grandfather’s murderers – and she was already Crown Princess at the
time. She was also your grandmother’s
constant companion in the days that followed the death of the Emperor Shūji;
she doesn’t want to experience the same grief.”
“I know”, Kunihiko agreed in a
subdued tone. “Grandma Nagisa died of a
broken heart barely a week after our grandfather was cremated.” He sighed.
“We were but children then, you know.
It’s been ten years since that happened.”
“Not quite children”, Mamoru
corrected him. “I was 22 at the time,
you and Masahiro were eighteen, Masakazu was fourteen, Rei was twelve, Masami
was ten, and the twins were six. We
were very young but, given what we are, we were aware of what was going on and
we questioned why anyone could be so greedy as to blow a kindly old man to
oblivion just because he was sitting on an ornately carved chair meant to
symbolize a nation.”
“Pure human selfishness”, Rei sighed
as they drove off.
“But they don’t really understand
that with great power comes great responsibility.” Wise beyond his years, Kunihiko murmured that old saw with
understanding. For all the delicacy of
his effeminate appearance, he was aware of the responsibilities that loomed in
his future and was more than ready to tackle them when the time came. Very few people knew that, because they
often brushed him off as a brilliant albeit eccentric artist given to high
drama and odd opinions.
“Murasaki’s worried”, Mamoru
added. “She said something about people
destroying the fruit to destroy the lineage of a tree.”
“I don’t like the sound of
that.” Kunihiko frowned. “Is she hinting that the people who are
trying to kill my father may very well try to kill me?”
“I can see the logic in that”, Rei
noted. “You’re an only son, niisama. If they killed you, the Yamato line would be
wiped off the face of the earth.”
“In which case, one of our cousins
will be sitting on the throne in case either Dad or me gets snuffed out
untimely.” The Crown Prince considered
that. “Of the three, the only one I can
think of as a potential kagemusha.”
“Cousin Fumi in Manila”, Rei
agreed. “Harry’s a regular asshole and
Sora’s well…” Her lips twisted in a wry
semblance of a grin. “Sora’s too good
to be true.”
“Choirboy”, Mamoru grunted in
agreement.
“Yeah, but that’s a first.” Mitsuru chuckled wryly. “A choirboy who can’t sing even a single
note straight.”
“He’s as pious as one, though”,
Kunihiko laughed.
“Violet doesn’t like him,
though.” Rei’s brow furrowed rather
severely.
“What’s wrong, sis?”, Kunihiko asked
her.
“I’m not sure…” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. Then, “Violet always said something about
Sora’s behavior. That there was
something wrong about how he was always being so nice to everyone.”
“Can’t say that I blame her,
sis. Something about Sora rubs me the
wrong way, too.”
“Is it because he always makes goo-goo eyes at Murasaki?”
Kunihiko smiled at that. It was no secret that Sora had always had a crush on Murasaki – even when he was finally assigned a ningyō of his own. Murasaki had given him an earful about how she wasn’t going to marry some slacker who kept trying to sway her from her beliefs and kept trashing her long-time idol. The prince sighed; the young girl had grown up extremely loyal to him – and him alone. Anyone else was nobody. She had a reason for that, though. He looked terribly serious as he remembered something that happened some years before…
A little pigtailed blur zipped past
the eighteen-year-old Prince Kunihiko, neatly tripping him up. The little blur turned out to be a little
girl who promptly scampered upon the fallen prince’s back and sat down.
“Hi”, she greeted him.
“Oh.” The prince looked up rather unenthusiastically at her. “It’s you, Violet.”
Six-year-old Murasaki Fujiwara
laughed. She dimpled adorably at
him. “Are you happy to see me, Master
Kuni-sama? `Cause I’m
happy to see you.”
“Yeah, sure, Violet.” Indecorously, he pushed her off. Rising to his feet, he turned to leave. “Later, kid.”
Murasaki, though, was not one who
could be shaken off lightly – literally or otherwise. She ran alongside him, eager to keep up.
“You wanna know what I’m gonna be
when I grow up, Master Kuni-sama?”, she asked him.
“Sure, kid.”
“I’m gonna be a ningyō
– like my mommy an’ my Aunt Kei an’ your mommy an’ Miss Maria.” Eighteen-year-old Maria Taira had been
invested in the Emperor’s service a couple of years before. “An’ I’m gonna be your ningyō, Master
Kuni-sama.”
Kunihiko suddenly stopped walking
and stared down at the child.
“You?” He laughed at the very
idea. “Kid, by the time you’re a ningyō
I’ll probably married and won’t need one anymore.”
Murasaki grinned up at him; he hated
it when she grinned because it always meant that she had something up her
sleeve.
“You won’t.” It was a statement; definitely
a statement. “`Cause you’re gonna wait
till I’m all grown up and you’re gonna marry me.” She winked playfully and skipped down the hall. Kunihiko could only stare after her, too
shocked to say or do anything…
“You got
any loose change on you, sis?”
Rei’s eyes sparkled mirthfully. “Well!”, she exclaimed, rummaging through
her little knapsack for a couple of small-denomination International Currency
Cards (ICCs) and handed them to her brother.
“You’re the Crown Prince and you don’t carry loose change?”
Kunihiko looked up at her somewhat
shamefacedly. “I hurried”, he blurted
uncomfortably, not daring to meet his sister’s gaze. “So I forgot my wallet at home.”
“What?” Before Rei could launch herself into a tirade, Kunihiko fled to
the nearest vending machine. Fuming,
Rei stared at his retreating back. “The
little fool”, she muttered ominously.
“He forgot to eat breakfast, too.”
Sprinting towards the instant ramen
machine, Kunihiko thought about how lucky he was that very few people
recognized him even in this crowded airport.
He was not the sort of prince who adored flattery and adulation, public
appearances and such. He was an artist
and preferred to keep to himself and his work.
Or so many people thought.
In truth, the Crown Prince wasn’t
sitting as comfortably in the sidelines as others would think. He was actually at his father’s right hand
when it came to running the government.
He served as his father’s eyes and ears: watching, listening, observing the people of his country. It was his observations that led to so many
people-friendly reforms that endeared his father to the populace and the world
beyond their borders. But he kept
silent about his vital role, opting to stay in the background while learning
hands-on how to become every bit as great an emperor as his father and those
who came before him.
A prince was expected to wear the
basic black color code that International Diplomatic/Political Protocol
dictated. He was expected to behave in
a normal manner, live a sedate and office-bound sort of life broken only by
such social events as ribbon-cutting ceremonies, inaugurations. Kunihiko had dyed blond streaks in his hair
and wore colors that would be most kindly described as eye-catching. (Less politely, it meant that the Crown
Prince’s wardrobe was a regular series of eyesores!) Worse yet, he did not spend time doing stereotypically masculine
activities like spending Friday nights out with the boys with their wine,
women, and song because he was much too busy working two jobs at the same
time. He was an incurable flirt,
though, but few women actually took him seriously because he was only five feet
and five inches tall – a recessive trait he’d inherited from his mother’s side
of the family – and built somewhat frailly.
Murasaki had often teased him before she’d gone away that he was far too
pretty for any girl to take him seriously – which was rather strange because
she took him very seriously.
“Oh, Murasaki!”, he sighed to
himself. He hadn’t seen her in five
years even if she’d been working at the American factor of his animation
company FlashPro. She refused to come
home until her training was complete even if ningyō were allowed to come
home in the summer and winter.
“Not until I am ready to serve my
master”, was the reason she always gave.
Her family did not seem to mind and the emperor gave his
permission. Heck, the empress was even
impressed!
“Your daughter is a regular
perfectionist, Yoshiyuki”, Empress Naoko had told the Grand Duke of Nara. “She won’t return until she deems herself
fit. That’s a good sign in a ningyō.” She had looked somewhat wistful when her
eyes turned towards her then 25-year-old son who had collapsed due to overwork
that winter. There had been a look of
sheer pique on Kunihiko’s pallid face:
the month-long rest period the doctors had imposed on him did not please
him. Weak as he was, he would have
preferred the work. “She must be strong
enough to match her master’s stubbornness.”
“You speak as though Murasaki was to
be my ningyō, Mamma.” Kunihiko’s
tone had been snide, even resentful.
“What if she was? Would you have any problems?” The empress had raised an amused eyebrow at her
son, as if he were a kitten trying to take on the challenges of being a grown
up cat. “I don’t think you will. You may be strong-willed and fiercely
independent, Kuni-chan, but Murasaki has the one quality that will enable her
to master you.”
“And what’s that supposed to be?”
“Tolerance, my child. She’s the only one who can abide by your
quirks without losing her mind.” She’d
grinned wryly at that last remark. “God
only knows how your father and I are able to deal with you.”
Murasaki… She’d been a girl with pigtails and very
thick eyeglasses when she left for California on that breezy autumn day five
years ago. What was she like now? Kunihiko knew that most girls didn’t undergo
some kind of metamorphosis in their teens and was half expecting Murasaki to be
a late bloomer. Bespectacled when she
left, bespectacled when she returned.
Yet… Why was she messing up
Kunihiko’s thoughts if he was sure that she’d arrive a fat dumpling with four
eyes?
“Oops!” His mind having strayed, the Crown Prince collided with a
stunningly beautiful young woman in a tight-fitting leather suit that showed
off her fabulous curves. “Aw,
jeez!” Kunihiko blushed and stammered. “I – I – I’m sorry, Miss. My mind was going places.”
The girl smiled; a hauntingly familiar
one to the prince. “Nandemo.” She waved the accident off. “Accidents will happen as they say.” She began to walk away, tossing her short
bob a little to fix it since it was mussed on impact. It was a move that Kunihiko found tremendously sexy. “Ja ne.” She waved airily and disappeared into the crowd.
“Hai”, Kunihiko replied,
bemused. “Dewa, ne.” He slipped a couple of ICCs in the card slot
at the ramen machine, his cheeks burning and an oddly lopsided grin on his
face. That girl had been hot!
“Your order please”, the voice
prompt asked him.
“Osaka-type ramen – large”, he
replied. As the machine’s innards
hissed during the preparation, Kunihiko scanned the crowd for the girl and
groaned. She was nowhere to be found;
his heart seemed to falter when he realized that. She’d been a babe and girls like that rarely ever came Kunihiko’s
way.
He was seriously contemplating going
after her when someone suddenly reached from behind him, grabbing him roughly
and slamming a cloth over his face.
Chloroform!, he thought,
panicking. He struggled in the
assailant’s grasp, but the one who’d taken him by surprise was a burly sort.
Before Kunihiko blacked out, he
heard a girl’s voice and the cold, sharp sound of steel – a sword being pulled
out of a sheath.
“Hands off my master!”, the girl had
roared in a fury, hacking away with bright steel at several other thugs who’d
appeared out of nowhere. People began
screaming, fleeing in one direction or another.
It was a ningyō, no doubt
about that.
Yet, Kunihiko also realized
something as the darkness overtook him.
The girl – the ningyō - had
not been his younger sister.
Meanwhile,
the young woman in the leather suit had trounced several of the black-clad
thugs.
Security people had rushed in on the
scene and berated themselves for not having recognized Crown Prince
Kunihiko. They would have gone after
the assailants themselves but Rei appeared and told them to calm down the
civilians in the area; she and the other ningyō would take care of the
suspects. Mamoru and Mitsuru also
showed up to help the girl.
“We’ll handle these seconds”, Mamoru
assured her even as he quickly kicked the lights out on one guy’s head. “You get the Prince.”
“Right!” Quick as lightning, the girl sped across the arrivals hall after
the thug who was carrying off the Crown Prince. She passed Rei who efficiently eviscerated another crook with a
small dagger. “Don’t kill `em all,
Rei”, she shouted. “Grab one who can
talk!”
“Null problemo!” Viciously, Rei held her dagger low and eyed
the next two creeps who came bounding up at her. She licked her lips almost wickedly. “Come and get me, boys!”
Effortlessly, she drove a dagger into one’s chest while tripping the
other with her foot. She pulled out the
dagger even as she grabbed the other with a headlock before he could fall to
the floor. “You, buddy boy, are comin’
with me!”
Meanwhile, the other girl grabbed a
small object from her boot and gracefully cast it towards the assailant’s retreating
back, being careful to avoid the unconscious prince.
“Urk!” The tiny dirk caught him in the middle of his pelvis, causing him
to fall on his knees. Nevertheless, he
did not relax his grip on the inert form of the Crown Prince. But it was enough to enable the girl to
catch up with him.
“Let him go”, she snarled
menacingly. From somewhere on her belt,
she pulled out a small but very lethal looking firearm.
“Never!” Though he was in pain, the abductor gripped the slender prince
harder. “We will keep him with us until
our master becomes Emperor! Japan will
not be ruled by a bloodless wisp! The
world will not be ruled by a mere child!
We will…” BANG!!! Whatever it was, he never said it; the girl
had blown a hole between his eyes with a bullet that popped out the back of his
skull. With death, he relaxed his hold
and Kunihiko slipped onto the floor with a slight thud.
“Another megalomanic cult, I
suppose.” The girl knelt on the floor
and rested the prince’s head on her lap.
Slowly, his eyes opened. She
gave a sigh of relief. “You’re safe
now, your Highness”, she told him as he regained consciousness.
“Am I dead?”, he asked, still
breathless, but his eyes went wide when he realized who was speaking to
him. “Are you an angel?”
The girl laughed – a laugh so
familiar that it seemed to freeze Kunihiko’s blood. “An angel?” Her lips
twisted in amusement as she smoothed his blond-streaked hair. “I don’t think so, Kuni-sama. I’m too tough to be one.”
Kuni-sama… Only one person had called him that. Kunihiko propped himself up on his elbows
and stared at her.
Mamoru, Mitsuru, and Rei came
running up.
“Are you all right, niisama?”,
Rei demanded, casually flicking blood off her dagger before placing it back in
her skirt.
“Yeah, thanks for asking, Rei.”
“Well, I guess you can count that as
your first tour of duty, little sister.”
Mamoru helped the girl to her feet and unabashedly grabbed her in a bear
hug. “Welcome home, Murasaki.”
Murasaki Fujiwara grinned openly and
wriggled out of her eldest brother’s embrace to hug her twin and Rei. Afterwards, she put out a hand to help up
the stupefied Crown Prince.
“I should’ve told you, Kuni-sama”,
she giggled. Affectionately, she
planted a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t
look so shocked, Highness. Girls do
grow up, after all.” Gracefully, she
turned away but tossed her head back to wink at him. “By the way: you left
your ramen inside the machine. Better
get it before it gets cold; you do need nourishment – you’re as thin as
a shadow!”
Megami Media Online Chapter Two