Blackblade 0.01 - An Auspicious Meeting

The two young boys stood silently, eyeing each other. They didn’t move, but what they were waiting or looking for was unclear. Adults were nearby, ostensibly watching the two children from a distance, though it was obvious that their attention was directed mainly towards Lady Murakami. She sat in the nicest part of the garden enjoying the sunshine, tilted with her back towards the boys, pointedly paying them no mind. A young maid polished the lady’s nails while another brushed her hair. The third woman, her clothes denoting her of the Miro house and not of Murakami’s, stood at attention. Her task was to watch the children, Osamu in particular, but the lady had ordered her to stay in her sights, and Lord Miro had told her to respect the wishes of the visiting lady, so she stood the far distance, watching the boys as best she could.
Both children were dressed smartly, and stood with poise that suggested training even at their young age. The first had a carefully blank expression; he stood at attention, waiting for an order or a sign. The second had a questioning look; he was sizing up the other boy, judging him on some as-of-yet unknown trait. With a sudden swiftness, he lunged forward and shoved the first boy, knocking him over. The boy sat stunned in the dirt for a few seconds, then picked himself back up carefully and stood back the way he was.
“Osamu!” the maid called, alarmed at the sudden turn. She took a few steps towards the children, when Lady Murakami made a sharp tutting noise.
“You were told to stay where I can see you,” she said with a harsh note. “How am I supposed to relax in this foreign place with people skulking about behind me?”
“But, my lady, the boys...”
“Mako is a violent, nasty little toad of a child, and if his nannies can’t get that out of him then you certainly won’t. If you go running over there, to absolutely no one’s benefit, then I am going to have to turn around, which will utterly spoil my view and very much ruin my afternoon. You wouldn’t want me to have to tell Lord Miro that you spoiled my afternoon, now would you?”
“No, my lady,” she bowed her head, but her lips were pursed and her eyes held concern. “But if his son is injured...”
“If his son can’t deal with something like Mako, then I fear for what sort of lord he will be. Now be quiet. It’s bad enough I have to sit with them.” Lady Murakami ended the conversation, and the young woman was forced to watch the childrens’ exchange with her hands clasped in front of her and her mouth shut.
Mako, with a look of disappointment on his face, watched Osamu get back up and resume standing calmly. Frowning slightly, he shoved him a second time, knocking him to the grass. Osamu stood up again; when he was shoved a third time he lost his quiet expression. With confusion and frustration, he asked, “What are you doing that for? I’m not even doing anything!”
Mako shrugged, and as he shoved him again he said, “‘Cause I can.”
“Stop it!” Osamu said. He still had a vague uncertainty. Mako wasn’t a superior, so he didn’t have to listen to him, but he also wasn’t a servant, so maybe he didn’t have to listen to him either. He considered a new strategy, which hadn’t come up before in his short life.
“No,” Mako said casually. He lunged again, almost looking bored at this point, when instead of connecting, Osamu jumped back, then pounced forward himself, roughly pushing the other to the ground instead. Mako lay back for a moment, blinking, looking quite shocked. Osamu looked over at him angrily, dusting himself off. Suddenly, Mako grinned, then bolted up and tackled Osamu from the ground. It escalated quickly from there, with the two boys rolling about hitting and kicking each other with abandon. Though neither of them said anything, Osamu yelled, venting an anger that had apparently been dormant, and Mako, despite the situation, appeared to be smiling and yelling back.
The handmaid watched the scene anxiously, but could not move to intervene with Lady Murakami’s stare glancing her way anytime she so much as twitched. After a few minutes, she could not stand it anymore. With a quick, sharp yell, she shouted, “You two stop that!” Osamu, hearing this, looked over and saw her watching in the distance. Giving Mako a heavy kick, he knocked the other boy away. Rolling over, he crouched in a defensive sort of posture and watched Mako with angry, cautious eyes. Mako, smiling still, rolled back over and saw Osamu defending. Lady Murakami glared furiously at the maid who had dare shout, but since she now stood rigidly at attention and since the yell had stopped the din made by the boys, she closed her eyes and relaxed again without reprimanding further.
Mako looked confused that they were no longer fighting. “What?” he asked simply.
Osamu, if anything, appeared confused by his confusion. “...Masumi said stop,” he eventually explained.
Mako looked over to where Masumi stood. He regarded her for a second, then turned back. “Do you always listen to her?”
“...Yes,” he replied as though the answer should be self-evident. He kept up his guard, even though Mako had sat back.
“Why?”
This took back Osamu. “Be...because I’m supposed to.”
Mako snickered, “I’m supposed to sit up straight and eat broccoli and go to bed, and I don’t do that.”
Osamu looked at him suspiciously, his anger slowly melting away, “Why are you laughing?”
“Cause that was fun!” Mako grinned, covered in dirt, cuts and bruises. “No one’s ever pushed back before!” Osamu just looked at him, lacking utterly in understanding. “Most people just stay fallen over until I leave. Some people get up and walk away quickly or they lecture me, and sometimes I get in trouble later and sometimes no one cares. You pushed back!”
“I...guess?” he was still very confused by this. “You shoved me, and you’re not someone I can’t hit back, but I guess you’re...not-not allowed to hit me?” He tried to work out this conundrum out loud, more for himself than the other boy.
Mako seemed to think about this for a half-second, then said, “Sounds right! Can we climb your tree now?”
“Huh?”
“Your tree.” He pointed to a large shade maple that was growing some distance away. “What’s the best way up it? I think I see like...three ways, but I don’t know which is best.”
“I...I don’t know,” he said falteringly. “I’ve never climbed it before.”
“Really? I’ve climbed all my trees like, a billion times. What do you do all day?”
“Um...” Osamu couldn’t answer immediately. In that pause, Mako jumped up and was standing over him. He held out his hand. Osamu just sort of looked at it blankly.
“...My clothes got ripped,” he mumbled after a few seconds, still looking at the proffered hand.
“Were they special?” Mako asked, almost concerned for a moment.
“...No, I don’t think so.”
“Then you’ve got more. Or you get to get new ones! I get new ones all the time.” He grinned conspiratorially, “Sometimes I pretend to get mad if they’re a little different, and sometimes when they’re kind of the same.” He said with an amused shrug, “I just like seeing the faces they make. The scared ones look the silliest, but it’s fun when they yell and I get to argue with them. Come on! What are you waiting for?” His hand was still out; he gave it a small shake, as if Osamu, with his face inches from it, didn’t see it already.
Osamu looked up at him. “You’re weird.”
“Pfft, you’re weirder. You haven’t even climbed your trees yet.”
Blinking once, Osamu considered that observation, and made the smallest smile. “Maybe,” he said quietly. He took Mako’s hand. Mako pulled him up and, smiling even bigger, ran towards the tree, dragging the other princeling by the hand behind him.
Category:Banishment of the Blackblades