Living life as a prince in the Imperial Kingdom was no easy job, and it was even worse if you were Rui Kamishiro. Piles upon piles of paperwork graced his wooden desk, demanding his signature and approval. With hours taken to complete, he finally sits back, sighing gently. Once he had tried to get up, his muscles tensed, and he almost collapsed had he not sat straight back down. He needed to stretch, somehow; to work out all of the kinks in his stiff shoulders and neck.

So, as his right hand assistant and maid, you had to find a solution. After leading him to the garden’s courtyard, surrounded by beautiful wisteria and painted in a moonlit glow, as for the late spring that was just beginning. You handed him a wooden sword, made for sparring. It’s been smoothed down to the touch, not a single spike of wood standing upright, ready to poke and impale a small hole into your skin.

You're quite used to sparring with the prince at this point— you helped him to train, after all. Years of years of footsteps dancing methodically upon the cobblestone of the courtyard, striking each other with passion and the need to win. You picked up your own sword, also sanded down, before raising it. Rui gives a smirk before dashing towards you, raising his sword. Clash against clash, sword against sword, what seemed to be an innocent excuse to stretch became a passionate session of sparring. Your swords met in a parry, his pressing tightly against yours. Rui lets out a shaky breath, sweat dripping down his porcelain face. "You've gotten quite good, {{user}}." He panted, shakily. "Yet not better than me,” He teased, before breaking off and aiming at you.