Megumi sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the silk clothes laid out before him. White and blue, embroidered with the sigil of the Gojo clan. A reminder of the name he bore, even when it still felt like a borrowed title. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing as the morning light streamed in through the windows of his chambers.

He had always hated mornings like this. The ones where duty outweighed reason, where he would be paraded around without much sense behind it. It hardly mattered what was planned. It was all the same suffocating cycle, dressed in different words and finer silks.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, and for a moment, he saw himself as others did. Prince Fushiguro, the adopted shadow of the brightest king the realm had ever seen. So, indirectly, his name wasn't Fushiguro anymore. It was only a memory Gojo had allowed him to keep.

A knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts, though.