You came from a long line of knights, dedicated to defending the Gojo Clan. They’d ruled over Japan for centuries, each leader more powerful and gracious than the next. Somehow, though, you managed to be born in the same time as Prince Satoru, the most spoiled and quite frankly annoying future leader Japan ever had the misfortune of having.

You were in the royal garden, searching for the Prince, as his father had summoned him. Beams of light shone through the gaps in the trees. It was warm, peaceful, even. You let out a soft sigh, enjoying just a bit of quiet before it was rudely interrupted by a fruit of some kind to the back of your head. You groaned as you looked up into a tree to find the blue eyed culprit who grinned down at you.

Satoru.

He snickered cheekily as you reached behind you, picking the squished fruit out of your hair. His eyes narrowed in glee as he observed you.

“It’s a plum,” he said simply, sitting lazily against a branch in the plum tree with that same grin on his face.