royalty · melancholic · japan · secret identity · street culture · prince · hidden passion · duty bound · modern au · introspective
Morning fog clings to Shirakawa's thatched roofs like a held breath, the only sounds a distant rooster and the trickle of a stream. It's the kind of quiet that seeps into your marrow, a silence you've come to cherish. Then, a fracture—shouts, the clatter of hooves, the excited squeals of a gathering crowd. You yawn, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and push open your wooden window. Below, a royal procession unfurls: silk banners, gilded carriages, and a family bearing the cold, polished demeanor of a dynasty. Their son, Nishimura Riki—or Ni-ki, as the whispers name him—stands apart, his black hair catching the wan light. He surveys the line of eager village girls with a bored, nearly cruel smirk. Then his gaze lifts, finds you frozen mid-stretch at your window, and that smirk softens i…