Prologue: Katsuro's Memories

The royal palace. A grand, towering structure of ancient stone, turrets and battlements. Home to generation upon generation of distinguished nobility who had shaped the country in some way or another. And the last place twelve-year-old Katsuro Amaki wanted to be. The boy, rather tall and lanky for his age, with a sleek head of raven-black hair and dark eyes, tugged at the hem of one of his sleeves self-consciously. Gazing warily about him, Katsuro took in the vastness of the royal ballroom, the large crystal chandeliers twinkling high above everyone's heads. The room, big as it was, was full of people. People of different skin tones and different places of origin. People of many different personalities and mannerisms, who danced away at the very center of the ballroom, happy to be the center of attention, or contented themselves to filling their plates with exotic dishes from the lengthy buffet tables that were set aside, chatting with friends all the while.

It was quite the lively scene, one Katsuro wished he could take part in if only he were anyone but himself. As it were, large gatherings like this made him uncomfortable, and had been ever since he was little and realized that people tended to congregate to wherever he was for no other reason than to stare at him. Silently. Creepily. Constantly.

Katsuro had been dragged into joining the celebration by his mother, and now he was standing—rather uncomfortably—in his brand new robes, formal wear custom tailored for occasions such as this. When his family had entered the inner gates of the castle, adults all around would spot him and remark on what a "handsome little gentleman" he was or how proud his parents must've been to be blessed with "such a well-mannered boy". Anyone else would have beamed at the praise, but Katsuro couldn't help but notice that none of the attendants had spoken directly to him as they talked about him. He didn't fully understand, but also felt that it wasn't his place to understand. This was the world of grown-ups, of royalty, of Heroes. What did he, a twelve-year-old, know?

Even the memory of it set said boy's ears aflame, so Katsuro firmly shoved it aside and focused on the matter at hand, the reason they were here in the first place. His eyes darted over to his right, fixing onto a lean figure clad in deep blue-black robes. Perhaps there was nothing overly impressive about the man, appearance-wise. He was of average height, with graceful, rather feminine facial features, smooth black hair and pale skin. In fact, the one thing that really revealed his true self was the gleaming, silver-and-black gold inlaid sword he carried at his side. The weapon that would have otherwise been out of place at a social gathering instead drew admiring and envious looks from all around the room. His expression was one of calm neutrality, but those who knew him well knew that inwardly, he was quite happy. How could he not be? After all, this entire celebration was in honor of him, Ren Amaki, the Sword Hero.

Katsuro's father.

And of course, let's not forget his shiny new bride, Katsuro thought bitterly. Yes. The entire castle was alive with merriment this day in order to celebrate Ren's marriage to a young woman named Wyndia. She was a demi-human of some kind, a dog or something—Katsuro never cared to remember—and she had some renown fror being one of the original inhabitants of the ever-growing, ever-prospering town of Rock Valley. She also had a reputation of advocating monster rights, but that was another matter. It was said that Wyndia and Ren had been in conflict for some time during Rock Valley's early years, but obviously they had gotten through it somehow, if they were marrying.

"Katsuro." The boy jumped slightly at the sound of his father's voice. "We may be here for a good minute. Why don't you find someplace to sit down? Your mother and I will join you a little later."

Katsuro nodded. He found no reason to object. "Yes, Father." Keeping his head down, he separated from his parents' sides, weaving through the guests until he found a relatively secluded area with tables, chairs, and those who wanted to take a break from the revelry. Propping himself onto the nearest chair, Katsuro soon lost himself in his brooding. He wondered, absently, how he should address Wyndia now that they were part of the same family. Titles like "mom" or "mother" were definitely out of the question. Why? Because Katsuro already had a mother. A mother who was alive, well, and apparently perfectly okay with this. Her name was Éclair. She was a knight and swordswoman of the highest caliber, and someone who'd fought alongside the Holy Heroes time and again despite not having a Holy Weapon of her own. The whole kingdom held her in high regard, and none more so than her own son. That made her approval of Ren's second union all the more unbearable to Katsuro.

As he looked on from the sidelines, Katsuro caught sight of his mother approaching another woman, this one a demi-human. Upon seeing her, Katsuro wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. Her clothes were nothing like the rest of the guests'. They were flowing, white and red robes with fine red embroidery on the hems of the sleeves. They looked nothing at all like the stately attire Éclair was wearing. But that didn't mean they were unattractive in any way. In fact, they further accentuated the woman's exotic beauty. She had eyes the color of red tea, and round, fuzzy ears that matched her auburn hair and equally fuzzy tail. Her face was elegant in a way that was different from Éclair's own harsh attractiveness. As if to complete the foreign look, Katsuro noticed a sheath strapped to her side, the hilt of the unseen blade glimmering with a green gemstone. He knew who this was.

The Katana Hero, Raphtalia. Her name was spoken with awe and reverence throughout the kingdom and far beyond. Katsuro reckoned there wasn't a single person alive who didn't know who she was, as forgetting her was like forgetting the legendary Shield Hero himself, and no one was going to do that in a hurry.

The woman turned to greet his mother, and the two struck up a conversation as they walked. As if the combined power and gracefulness of these two women was too much for the room to handle, the crowd parted seamlessly to make way for them. Whispers began to break out.

"Are they…?"

"Yes, it's gotta be them!"

"The legendary Knight and Katana Hero!"

"I knew this party was a big deal, but I didn't know it was that big of a deal!"

"So they both came…"

"Idiot, of course they did. The Knight Éclair and the Hero Raphtalia are very close."

"I heard they once trained together, learning an ancient form of martial arts."

"If the Katana Hero is here, then does that mean…the legendary Shield is here too?!"

"I wouldn't bet on it. You know he never shows up to these sorts of things."

"Hey, isn't the Knight married to the Sword Hero? It only makes sense that she'd appear, then."

Katsuro's heart swelled with pride as he listened to the fuss that was being made. His mother had a fearsome reputation, one she'd earned through skill and hard work. If anyone deserved to walk alongside the Hero of the Katana, it was her.

This moment of elation, however, was brief. All of a sudden, Katsuro's thoughts returned to his dilemma. He didn't hate Wyndia. He didn't even know enough about her to cast judgment one way or another. He didn't hate his father either, for making the decision without consulting him. No, he was just…confused. The one question young Katsuro wanted an answer to, more than anything else, was why. Why had his father done this? Why had his mother agreed? Why had they not bothered to talk to him about it until after the decision had been made?

Why?

"They call it 'taking responsibility.'"

The voice came from right by Katsuro's ear. He jumped, torn away from his melancholic thoughts. He looked over to his right and saw a boy standing next to him, arms folded and gazing out at the partygoers with a mask of cool indifference, as if he'd already figured out the ways of the world. He looked to be Katsuro's age, around twelve or thirteen, with ruffled brown hair and eyes like jade. A pair of fuzzy, rounded ears sat atop his head, twitching every now and then, and an equally fluffy rounded tail swished back and forth behind him. Another demi-human. Demi-humans with social status were quite common in Melromarc now, though there had been a time—before the great War of Heroes some fifteen years ago—when the only status they could have was that of slaves. Katsuro stared. There was something else, too. Some sort of signal going off in his brain, telling him that perhaps he knew this boy from somewhere, though he couldn't imagine where that would be.

"…I'm sorry?"

"So am I," The boy replied. "I don't really get it, but apparently it's something Heroes do." He shook his head in displeasure.

Katsuro eyed him warily. What was he talking about? "No, I mean…who are you exactly?"

"Huh? Oh, my name's Korro." Korro turned to look at him fully and stuck his hand into the pocket of his robes. He pulled out a worn-looking deck of cards, bound together by string. "Katsuro, right? D'you know how to play Speed Snap?" Korro sat down across from Katsuro, cross-legged. He began unbinding the cards and shuffling them. For his part, Katsuro was unsure of many things, mainly why this kid had approached him out of nowhere and talked as if they were in the middle of a conversation. But Korro didn't seem to mean any harm, not to mention there were other people in the vicinity, so the black-haired boy slid out of his chair to sit on the floor as well. He wondered what his mother would think, seeing him sitting on the ground and ruining his own formal wear.

"Sorta," he said in response to Korro's question. "I'm much better at Dragon's Eye, though."

"Alright, but I don't know that one so you're gonna have to teach it to me later," Korro didn't so much as look up from his shuffling. Katsuro had given up trying to sort this situation out. All he got out of it was that this other boy most likely wanted to be friends with him for whatever reason. And if that was the case, who was he to argue? So he decided to shift his attention to something else that was bothering him. Something Korro had said.

"What was that you were saying before, about taking responsibility? What was that about?" Katsuro glanced around, scanning the area for potential eavesdroppers. His suspicions went unfounded. Everyone around them was busy enjoying themselves. Children laughed, couples danced in the center of the ballroom, aging veterans chatted with old friends as they watched. None were paying any attention to the pair of boys sitting and playing cards away from all of the commotion. Katsuro felt a little foolish. Of course they wouldn't. Unless Korro was harboring an international secret that could endanger anyone who heard it, there wasn't much reason to try and listen in on their conversation.

"Oh yeah, that," Korro sighed, and for some reason he looked a little irritated. "I'm talking about your dad. He just got married again, didn't he? I mean, this party is for him." Katsuro nodded. That was common knowledge. The other boy went on.

"Well, don't you think it's strange? He's already got your mom, but he then goes and marries someone else without even divorcing her first."

Katsuro, who'd been listening attentively as Korro dealt out the cards, suddenly bristled at those words. "And why would he do something like split up with my mother? They love each other!" Why would Korro even suggest something like that, as if it were only natural for them to want to break apart? It was absurd!

But Korro had something to say about that as well. "Yeah? Well if they really do love each other, then why would your dad want a second wife? Whatever happened to 'till death do us part'? Can he really make that sort of promise to more than one person?" When Katsuro didn't respond, he looked up to find the other boy's face full of anger and distress. "Don't look at me like that. I'm only telling you the truth. As for the responsibility thing, I'd heard that in their world when a man messes up in front of a woman, he has no choice but to atone for it by marrying her or something. So I dunno, maybe your dad owed this Wyndia lady money or something?" he joked. Katsuro however, didn't laugh.

His hands balled into fists. Just what was Korro trying to say? That his father and mother didn't care for each other? That their marriage was meaningless? That he, the result of said marriage, was also meaningless? Don't you think I've asked myself the same thing? he thought angrily. Don't you think I myself want to know why my father did what he did? All of the dark feelings he'd felt in the weeks since his parents had made the announcement-all the confusion, the frustration, the utter helplessness- welled up within the youth, threatening to spill out in the worst way possible. That made him angrier. He'd been doing his best to keep things under wraps, to wait until he'd gotten home to confront his parents, and here comes this stranger pushing all the wrong buttons.

After spending a few moments wrestling his emotions back under control, Katsuro growled, "I don't think I like what you're implying. And who are you to go snooping around in my family's business like you understand us, anyway? How could you understand? How could you possibly know what it's like?!" Katsuro's voice had risen with every word until he was practically shouting. A few people nearby turned their heads at the commotion. Katsuro paid them no mind, keeping his eyes on the other boy.

Korro said nothing for a long time. He stared at Katsuro, the smile gone from his face, his card deck momentarily forgotten. Then, when it seemed like he was simply not going to respond at all, he finally spoke. "I know," he murmured, "because my father did the same thing."

Like a lit candle that had been doused by a bucket of water, Katsuro felt his fury sizzle out, to be replaced by realization. Two realizations. One, that the reason Korro had seemed so familiar despite having never met Katsuro before was because Katsuro had literally just seen him—in the face of that white-and-red clad woman who knew his mother. They were not the same age or gender obviously—and of course Korro's eyes were green instead of red—but their ears, their tails, their foreign facial features-they were all the same. Such a close resemblance could only mean one thing.

Before he could dwell too long on it though, Katsuro was hit by the second, stronger realization. He had seen this boy before. It was about a year ago, and Katsuro had been dragged to yet another party. This one hadn't been for his family. Instead, the kingdom was celebrating on behalf of the Shield Hero, Naofumi Iwatani, and his official entry into the royal family via his political marriage to the current queen, Melty Q. Melromarc, a woman of rare kindness and beauty. That day, in that very ballroom, Katsuro had been looking for places to hide and wait out the festival until it was time to return home again. As he did, he caught sight of a lone figure, sitting—very stiffly—in a chair well away from the crowds, staring down into his lap. A boy with a fuzzy tail and rounded ears. A boy who looked like the royal palace was the last place he wanted to be.

"…I see." Katsuro's reply was soft. "You were frowning on that day, too." Korro looked confused at that, but Katsuro moved on before he could be questioned. "Sorry about that. I shouldn't have snapped at you. First time I really lost my temper, actually." Saying it made him feel ashamed. He was usually good at keeping his feelings buried. Perhaps he'd been doing it too often.

Korro shrugged, looking away. "I kinda deserved it. I was trying to rile you up a little back there. Guess I just wanted to make myself feel a bit better about the whole thing. A whole year has already passed, yet I seem to be the only person who can't get on with his life. Pretty ridiculous, huh?"

Katsuro nodded. "Yeah, but it's not like I'll be any different. I'll probably be griping about this until they bury me, and then some." That managed to get a chuckle out of the young demi-human. Katsuro joined in. He'd come to this gathering thinking it would be a total waste, but now he was starting to have second thoughts. Glancing down, he picked up and studied his half of the card deck. After a moment he said, "You know…I don't really feel like playing cards anymore."

Korro gave a smile. It wasn't as wide as the one he'd had before, but to Katsuro, this one seemed a little more…sincere.

"Me neither."

A/N: Welcome to my next generation fanfic, The Lost Heir. I got the idea of it after reading the web novel and light novels, and saw that no one posted a NextGen fic yet (to my knowledge) ad figured it would be fun to try it out. Just to be clear, I do NOT support the idea of Naofumi having a harem, or him being with anyone besides Raphtalia. But canon or not, the web novel is the only version of the story that has a definite ending, and it did happen there, so I'm including it. Not to mention it would also be a great source of drama for Nao's kids XD. But most of this chapter was for exposition, so I promise I'll only mention it when necessary. Thank you.