; inglorious bastard (Crown Prince!Hirofumi Yoshida x Bodyguard!F!Y/N) ; drama, sick romance, and mild angst (one shot) ; Tyrannical princes don’t care for their subordinates, especially the ones of the lower caste yet Hirofumi Yoshida is more than willing to show just how far and how much he cares for you -- his cute little soldat.
Warnings: language, crossdressing!Y/N, mentions of social class, mentions of war, blood, violence, attempted rape (verbal harrasement), mild yandere!yoshida (soldat is french for soldier)
notes: the title of the oneshot banner is entitled, 'running away at night' havent read it but yeah, i finally get to write for chainsaw man oof T-T @bachirawr thanks for the push missmaam :")
csm library
The god of luck had never been by your side.
Now that you look at it, as your ass lands flat on the rough soil of the stables with your back pressed against the hard wooden fence with three full sized men in front of you, you’ve come to accept the fact that this might be the end for you.
Of course, you could fight them.
They had more handicaps than you had, their stances were off and relaxed. It would be easy for you to try and dismantle their little group.
You were considered to be a prodigy of swordsmanship after all, the eldest ‘boy’ of your family who is apparently going to bring fame and glory back to your fallen house. A story that could be told to children. For usually, these tales would lead to happily ever after and beautiful endings. At least, that’s what it was supposed to be.
In your case though, it was the opposite.
This is because you are no man.
You are a woman through and through.
Your older brother, the one whose name you had stolen, is a coward. He had ran away along with his lover to elope in a far-off town, only to leave a letter addressed to your weary mother and sickly father. With the war brewing in the west and the blood shed not even stopping for a moment, the emperor had ordered each house may it be the poor, the ones fallen from grace, or the rich to send one male to participate in the battlefield.
You couldn’t let your father go, he may have served twenty or so years ago but he’s feeble and at times, amnesic and careless due to age, something you couldn’t blame him for. The very moment he steps foot in the battlefield, he’d be as good as gone and that would only affect your poor mother’s mental health and well-being. Your youngest brother, on the other hand, was only sixteen years of age when the news of the war had broken out. It’s clear he was too young and immature to face such terrors. His swordsmanship, as well, wasn’t as good as yours nor your older brother’s. You could tell that he wouldn't last even a minute out here.
You had to step up to save face and try to give your family their glory back.
It’s a shame that with the events going on in front of you now you wouldn’t be able to do so. The ones who had found you out were sons of earls and viscounts and your father was only but a knight, of a fallen peerage at that. If you were to hurt them, you could have your hands cut off and your eyes gouged out. If you were to sit still and let them have their way with you, there is no telling what would happen after, especially if you got caught. The crowned prince that you served would have your head separated from your body due to perjury.
The tyrant prince hated liars, most especially.
You draw your lips between your teeth, enough to taste the coppery rancid on your palette whilst you try to think of a better response to the circumstance you were in, “No wonder the crowned prince likes having you around, L/N…” the brunette grinned, bending down to your level to trace a finger up your jaw. Their is only abhorrence painted on your features to show distaste towards them, “Not only are you not hard to look at but you also have holes enough for us…” you try to not let the fear waver you, instead, you only spat at there boots.
“You better hope for shit I won’t have your heads sent back to your families…” your e/c hues are only filled by fire and blood, if they were going to do what you think they were doing, you might as well cut off their limbs.
The man lets out a belly-load of laughter, not even scared because they knew you were just a girl now, “What’cha gon’ do about it, princess?” the other one teased, his accent leaking off as he bends down to your level, “You can’t touch us, were-”
Before he could even finish his sentence, you grab him by the hair, letting his face kiss the ground. The remaining pair had their eyes as wide as saucers when their companion let out a painful wheeze, their positions comprised. The man’s crimson substance trickled down his nose and stained the sacred grounds of the crowned prince’s personal stable.
You were going to get in trouble for this but you might as well go down there with a proper fight. Swiftly, you grab one of the sticks at the back and snap them in half, bending downwards in a fighting stance, “You do know that his highness has me on the battlefield, right?” you tilt your head, raising your self-built weapon, “...Right next to him...Do you actually think that I’m just there for decoration?” your eyes narrow explicitly, pointing at the sharp end of the stake.
The one on the ground tries to raise his head but you only kick him square at the face, letting him out another groan. This was the problem with men, they loved to think that women were like glass.
Vulnerable.
Destructible.
It’s a shame that they forgot that if they tried to break it, it could cut them and make them bleed.
“You fucking bi-” one of them tries to explain, reaching out to throw a sloppy punch but you easily dodge him and jab the blunt part of the stick to his stomach. Despite the military training, noble men were easier to pummel down than the ones of the lower caste. Ironically, they were not as strong or daunting as the crowned prince you serve. They were idiots who could be lumped with the likes of a court jester.
You turn to the other one, kicking him in the nether regions and before the bloody nose individual could get ahold of you, you grab him by the neck, arm locking him and pointing the sharp end of the stick at his neck, pressing it lightly just so he could feel the end, “Anyone goes near, I’m puncturing the veins and this guy dies on the spot.” he only lets out a loud squeak, face turning ashen white that you seemed to be serious with your threat.
“Huh,” a familiar voice interrupts the four of you, making your hair stand on the end. Your tunneled vision finds a very familiar and ominous presence standing there, an amused smile on his lips as he slowly raises his hands to give a round of applause as if he was engrossed by some sick opera, “You never cease to amaze me, my little soldat…” you shakily let go of the noble, dropping the handmade weapon to the ground.
“Your...your highness…” you’re immediately on your knees, head tilted downwards, not even daring to look him in the eye. The three nobles follow suit, fear flowing through their veins as well from the ill-humored royal in front of you.
With obsidian eyes that could rival the night, midnight-black hair swept to the side, and a strapping built from being the front-liner of the war for the past four years; Hirofumi Yoshida’s beauty could be comparable to a fallen angel. The man was as cruel and could be the incarnate of Lucifer himself. He lived in blood shed, bathed in chaos, and only was interested in having the throne for himself.
You knew he was just waiting patiently to strike them all down to get what he wanted.
Everyone was just his prey.
“Don’t stop on my account, my cute soldat…” he walks towards the four of you, the heavy footsteps of his boots are the only thing that can be heard, “They were bothering you, weren’t they?” he turns to them, “You do know I don’t like my people getting touched, right?” He only draws a small part of his blade and the men’s eyes widen. faces turning ashy and grey at the sudden threat.
Yoshida had a facet of insanity, every tyrant had one because no one of the sane mind would commit those different atrocities, only he was better at hiding it, “It’s merely a little spat, your highness.” You try to play down the situation, not wanting to see carnage in front of you, “I-I was at fault…” you shut your eyes tight.
“Huh…” the raven-haired smile turned upside down at your response and without even saying anything more, he unsheathed his sword, slitting one of the individuals head down with not even a single bit of hesitation, the sound of a head falling and rolling down the ground makes you internally shake while his other companions let out a small shriek.
Despite seeing such violence these past four years, his unfazed attitude towards butchery was something else.
“You two,” he points the sharp end of his sword, “Leave... unless you want to be living pieces of meat for the wolves tonight...”
You watch them scamper away like rats yet you remain on the spot. You try to maintain your calm façade, had he heard of the conversation? What would he ever do to you, now? You want to raise your hand, maybe even beg for him to spare you if he had ever heard you but he only thumbs down the blood that sullied your features.
“You have something to say to me, my little soldat?”
“I- your highness-” you try to stammer out an excuse but you could hear him clicking his tongue in dismay. You were done for, he’d have your head in a pike. Worse, he’d deliver it to your family’s front door.
You could only imagine your mother’s face.
You’re ready to be the receiving end of his blade but instead of the sharp end, only callus hands cup one of your cheek as he bends down to your eye level. Dilated pupils only stare at your fear stricken ones, his rough fingers tilt your head to face him, “My, I’m quite stupid…” he remarks, “How could I not have known that my cute little soldat is actually a woman?”
When the devil finds out who you truly are, you could only hope that he’d strike a deal at the expense of your life but you know that this tyrannical prince was not that merciful, “I-I...I have committed agave sin and I shall pay with my life, your majesty.” You try to look down but he tightens his hold, refusing to let you go, “Please don’t kill my family, they know nothing of this.” you truthfully spoke.
The midnight-haired prince continues to smile, how adorable. No wonder you bathed separately from all the other swines and you’d usually avoid his gaze and turn slightly red when he tried to change in front of you and invited you to that hot spring one time.
It seemed like that fifth year resignation wouldn’t be a problem anymore. By the looks of it, he could have you by his side permanently now. His cute little soldat, forever by his side.
“Now why would I kill my cute little soldat?” he hummed, continuing to cup your cheek. You could feel a jolt of ominous darkness fill your thoughts, nothing would ever come good after this, “I’m not sure if you’ve heard but I’m looking for an empress...I’m sure the empire would value a strong and strategic individual such as you as my partner…”
There is only the inability to even let out a reply, the tightness of breath as if someone had ripped out your voice box. That wasn't the response you were prepared for, “I could never, I do not stand on par with his highness…” you tried to excuse yourself with anything but that sort of life. You’d never want to enter the court, especially with such a man.
“What are you talking about?” he mutters, dipping his head down, brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. The sudden intimate contact only makes your face turn pallid and tremble like a rabbit caught in a trap, “Not only would you make a great mother of the empire, you’d also be a great mother to our children in the future…”