#︵︵ ❥ REQS ﾟ 𝄢 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssivinee · 23 days ago

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❥ 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜

Twice! Minatozaki Sana x Baroness! F reader [Historical AU]: Long ago, in an era in Japan where hierarchy dominated every aspect of everyday life. Sana was the kind princess of your land who was fated for a horrible future when it came to love. Meanwhile, you were a mere baroness within a corrupt system, and Sana's fate would be the one affecting you.

Word Count: 12.3 k

Author's Note: Everything in this story may NOT be historically accurate, but I did try my best! Beweare of the ANGSTTTTT. I actually reallllyyyyy enjoyed this one hopefully, you like it as much as I do🤩.

Req: @rd0265667 when she was young, she had heard the prophecy from the wizard “your love will stretch for all eternity” she refused to accept it, unwilling to let fate or prophecy dictate her life, but in the end, the wizard was right though your love stretched out for all eternity, they only met for but a moment, for you loved her too early, and she loved you too late

➳ Character Concept - Takeda Y/n

Japan in the 1500s was a completely different era from modern times. Almost all of the country’s power was decentralized, leading to many conflicts throughout the years.

However, one consistent thing was that women weren’t treated respectfully unless they had power.

A clear example of this is your current situation.

You were from the Takeda Clan, a growing group of recognized Samurai within the Japanese military. Being in a clan like that sounded great, but… you were a woman.

Your fellow Takeda men didn’t exactly take too kindly to their counterparts, and being the alpha males in sectors, they can be.

Why? Well, because Takeda’s are low-ranked in the noble hierarchy, although you were somewhat lucky in life.

Your mother is a baroness from a higher family who married into the Takeda family, and your father is Japan’s famous general known as ‘The Oni.’ So, by age thirteen, you had particular duties and a reputation to uphold. Many servants would gossip, saying you were important but not important enough.

Just to a certain extent.

That was something you always heard, especially when meeting other royalties.

“Y/n? She’s the girl with an overprotective father. You can’t be friends with her.”

“Don’t expect so much from that one; she just has to sit there, represent her family, and look adorable.”

“Poor child has no future for her.”

It was tough being in a family known for male dominance while being a woman of higher rank. So you steered clear of most people, trying to take on caretaking instead.

Walking through Kyoto's extensive gardens, you made your way to the training grounds near the barracks. You stabilized the large woven basket on one side of your waist, hooking your arm under it for support.

Your eyes travel inside the large container, the warm batch of bread still steaming from the cloth covering it. The sweat on your forehead granted a break on the nearby bench, fearing you’d drop the delicacies.

Sitting on the upcoming bench, you hoped for the shade to come above while wiping away any sweat using a washcloth. “This damn heat,” you mumble under your breath.

Your body was never one to cooperate with the heat, becoming sick often after a tiring day out. Rather than being able to complain about the heat in peace, you hear a pitchier voice coming towards you near the camellia bushes.

“Mother would love the vibrance of these,” the girl knees down, her beautiful white and gold kimono grazing the grass. She kept her hair up in a large bun with a large white ribbon keeping it together.

Her delicate fingers touched the flowers, lifting them to her nose. She tried to smell the camellias' aroma. Then, she took the gardening shears, snipped long stems, and placed the flowers in a small bamboo basket.

Your eyes travel back to your basket of bread, thinking the kinder thing to do was give an extra piece, just for some energy. “Uhm, excuse me?”

Her neck whips to turn her head, her face full of surprise. You see her eyes dart down to the small piece of bread in your hands. “You seem to be working hard in the heat, and I had some extra so here.”

She stands up as she takes the bread, a cute smile forming. The bright smile almost took you aback, her adorable squirrel-like cheeks expanding. “How kind of you,” she mumbles, taking a small bite. You hear a muffled squeal, making you giggle lightly.

“Uhm, uhm,” she looks around frantically, trying to find a quick gift. Once her eyes land on her own basket, her eyes grow wide with a bright idea in mind. “Here, please accept this as gratitude,” her small hands hand you the pink flower, and you bow, accepting it graciously.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You were looking out for me. It’s the least I could do,” She expresses, her bubbling personality showing with the next bite she took, stuffing her mouth. She then began to wonder, “Is that for the samurai?”

She sees your eyes grow wide, “Yes! This is. Thank you for reminding me, actually. I shall be on my way.” You bow, and as you rush off, a servant rushes past you out of breath.

“Sana-sama! I told you not to go on without me at your side!” Your brain couldn’t even process the words as you dashed all the way to the other side of the garden.

Your trembling breath had you almost gasping for air, but when the large doors opened, you strained yourself at seeing your father. “Father,” you bow, and he stares at you for a minute before having a servant take the large basket.

“You’re late, Y/n,” he stands there, and all you can do is a deep bow. “I apologize, Otou-san. I took a quick break and suddenly had a run-in with…” you take a deep breath, knowing the reaction you’d get.

“The princess.”

You wouldn’t dare look into his eyes, but you heard the grumble that came out of his mouth. “We’ve spoken of this. You shouldn’t be in the vicinity of the princess! If you hadn’t taken a break, this would’ve been avoided!” You feel the anger radiating off of his voice.

“It will never happen again, Otou-san,” he sighs heavily but nods. “Good. Now, prepare in the next room. Your training will begin shortly.”

Without another word, you went into the next room. It was an open dojo-like space; you take off your getas, placing them outside the room. You feel the texture of the tatami flooring under your feet. The cushioning makes you feel bouncier.

“We should check on your conditioning today. Kimono off,” your father authorizes. As you remove the basic gown, you reveal that you are wearing a thin black tank top.

Your father’s eyes trail down to your arms; the short bruises of yellow and green can be seen forming over older scaring. “Are you feeling rigid?” He asks with a gentle touch, lifting up your arms as he scans you. “No, I feel good.”

“Perfect answer,” he says, grabbing a large wooden stick that was close to his height. “You're 16 now, Y/n. People may say you don’t have a responsibility, but I will not let my own child be a pushover.”

You nod acceptingly, “I understand, father.” People may not view you as anything but a mere woman, but despite your father’s brut nature, he was always willing to protect you and your mother.

He’s a gentleman, the only one you know personally. “Now take stance,” he announces.

Your knees bend slightly, head leans slightly forward, and your left arm is in front of your body. While taking place, your father jabs the stick forward, causing a speedy reaction from you. Instinctively, you lean your body to the left as quickly as possible, then use the palm of your hand to push it away.

“Good,” your father states, but you knew it wouldn’t end there. He began moving the stick quicker and quicker. Your body could keep up with the fast pace as it was your usual routine.

There were times when you would get hit, hence the small bruises you would receive. Your father intentionally did this. He believed that at least, in the future, your pain tolerance would be high enough to be able to endure many.

The training is followed by giving you a kendo stick to stimulate katana practice. Due to clan regulations, women could not be samurai, nor could they hold a weapon. Many men believed women should stay pure, and if not, they weren’t worthy of marriage.

Despite your father being the head, an entire force of men wanting this rule was something he couldn’t oppose as it was also a long part of their history. Women were also quite accepting of the rule because of that.

Your body felt much more exhausted due to the heat, yet it never stopped your father with his relentless training. But after six hours, he made you go home as time struck five in the afternoon.

You quickly dash home, trying to beat the thirty-minute mark. Before six p.m. hit, you needed to clean yourself up, start cooking dinner, and make tea.

It was a tiring routine, but something you’ve become used to since the age of ten.

Your days were lengthy, but it was the usual. Before dawn, you would have to get up and get ready for the rest of your day. Then, in the next hour, you cook breakfast for your family and eat in the same hour. While your parents do their duties under royalties, you clean the house for two hours, then study the two hours after.

At ten, you’d have to make your way to the servants' quarters for the batches of bread for the samurai. After delivering, there would be one-on-one training with your father for six hours. It also doesn’t just stop at the shower, dinner, and tea; there is also extra studying about herbs and first-aid due to your mother.

It was a strenuous lifestyle, but you were somewhat fond of it. Everything you were taught, you believed, would make you a better person as you were pushing yourself to find new skills.

Back to the task at hand, you washed up quickly and changed. Then, you prepared a quick meal of miso soup, rice, and fish. When your mother and father came home, you all had a meal together.

“Have you begun your studies today, Y/n?” You hear your mom. You nodded and sipped green tea, “I began while preparing for dinner.” Your mom looked at you with her sweet eyes, a proud smile.

“Just get thirty minutes of herbal studies in tonight. Your father told me you had an unusual day today.” Your eyes flash up to your dad's face, who is focused on his soup, and your eyes travel to your mother, whose brows are raised.

“It was an accident, okāsan-”

“Y/n,” she gives a stern voice, cutting you off. “It’s okay. I promise.” Your father looks at her with furrowed brows, giving her a ‘don’t encourage the child look.’

Her eyes soften at her husband, “Princess Minatozaki is a wonderful child, the complete opposite of the queen. I assure you she won’t tell her mother.”

“We can’t assume that she just won't find out,” he declares, and your mother looks slightly conflicted. “You know that better than anyone, Reiko.”

“I will keep our child safe, Hideo. Even if it takes my life,” you and your father go silent at your mother’s heavy words. Having a loving family in this lifetime has its ups and downs. It made you often wonder if you could ever truly be happy in a world like your own.

Your appetite suddenly changes, and your parents look at you as you stand from your spot. You bow out of respect and excused yourself to study and get into bed. You weren’t about to deal with that conversation.

It was something your parents always talked about, becoming a constant broken record in your mind. You knew there would come a day when your mother’s words would actually come true.

‘Even if it takes my life.’ Somewhat becoming your parent’s motto.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, the background consisting of your bed, side table, and little vase faded behind you. The words of your parents clouded your mind once again, but you felt a switch in your mind go off.

If you had the power to change the fate of your life, you would do so… even if it takes your life.

Today was the eighteenth birthday of the princess, and it had been two years since you first met her. Your mother, fortunately, was correct.

The princess was a kind young woman who never mirrored the queen's personality. Though you only had a handful of instances of interacting with the princess, your family would be invited to her birthday.

It was only right as your father was their famous general, and your mother was their trusted right hand. You stood near the far right of the large room, away from the crowd of royalties who would just gossip about you.

Your body was adorned in a beautiful deep violet, the color that represented the Takeda clan well. The kimono hugged your waist, the cute silver bow in the back cinching it to a tea.

No one dared to bother you, your eyes roaming around the large hall instead. Everyone wore elegant kimonos, and the young men especially wore bolder colors to catch her attention. She was turning of age, after all.

It would be assumed that the king and queen would find her the most fitting partner as her husband.

Thinking about it only caused your brain to grow exhausted. Every ‘man’ that lingered around her, was an ignorant, arrogant, and naive noble that chased for that small taste of power.

You were well aware that the princess didn’t deserve someone like that. You could count your interactions on one hand, but her honest nature made you feel like you could’ve been friends in some other lifetime.

After giving her the small piece of bread all those years ago, you did your best to avoid her. Although, to your own dismay, it seemed like fate had other plans for the two of you.

The second instance had you stunned. It was on a cold night, and your father seemed to be in a sour mood. The day was harsher for you, which led you to get punished.

Your father wasn’t so harsh, but as a ‘normal’ punishment, he would hit you five times with the wooden staff. At that point in your life, it wasn’t painful anymore, your body getting used to the feeling.

You were near the pond, using a wet washcloth to help soothe the bruising and bleeding on your shoulders. Your kimono was slid down on your arm ever so slightly, the moonlight shining upon the pond’s waters.

Regardless of what occurred, at least the night was soothing in your mind. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” you flinched at the voice and quickly hid the cloth as she came into your view.

You stood up quickly and bowed, “Princess,” and Sana shook her hand in a wave. “Please, sit down. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

To your surprise, she sat next to you as if it were merely nothing, “I just needed some time away from my parents.”

That night, you got to know a different version of her. Given that everything you heard by now was only hearsay, this was something raw and vulnerable. Without even knowing it, that night went on with the princess expressing her struggles to you.

As she rambled, you just listened. Every interaction after that was the same way as well. You liked to think that you became her ‘once in a blue moon secret therapist.’

The thought always made you chuckle a little. She didn’t know you, know your status compared to her… nothing. Yet every time you coincidently saw each other, she seemed to not mind any of that.

Your eyes traveled to the large crowd forming in the middle, surrounding the royal family. Instead of watching every noble declare some form of their love to her, you decided to slip out of the palace.

You breathed in the fresh air, closing your eyes as you felt the sensation of the cold wind against your skin.

You always favored this time, where it usually held a peaceful silence. Your long days of work were hectic, always consisting of training and studying nowadays. This was a need in your routine. Not only that, a year ago, your father had made sure you’d begin shadowing him and his work.

He told you, “No matter the laws of this clan, you will always be my successor.” It made you stay diligent, aware, and colder than everyone else. They never valued you anyway, so you didn’t see the harm in your change.

“You're very good at escaping places you don’t want to be, huh?” You heard that voice yet again. You knew who it was, even if your eyes were shut this entire time. “Somehow, you always find me, princess,” you open your eyes to find her standing on your right.

Her large, layered kimono swept the flooring. The white fabric and its gold trim decorated her body. You watched as her fingers traveled toward her hair, taking the pins out of the large bun and making sure her hair flowed down instead.

She seemed to let her hair down every time she saw you, saying, “She felt more comfortable this way.” Sana seems to follow your actions, eyes looking far into the distance. “What did it feel like?”

You look at her curiously, not understanding the question, “What do you mean, princess?”

“What did it feel like when you officially turned into a young woman?”

The question had you freeze like a storm and had your brain brewing in thought. Were you to answer her honestly or sugarcoat it? “I would like you to be frank with me,” she stated kindly as if she were reading your thoughts.

You chuckled, and her eyes glinted with a touch of surprise. She had never heard you have this sense of happiness, “When I turned into a young woman… it was brutal. We live different lives, princess. That’s the harsh reality.”

After you spoke, the tranquility filled the air again. Sana knew her life was privileged, but between you and her, she believed you two weren’t so different. Maybe that was her own fault for being so uneducated about you. She was the one who always spoke in comparison to you, and she realized that now.

“Can you please tell me more?” You heard the hesitance in her voice, her eyes looking down.

“Well, otou-san began training me properly without a care. He told me of the plausible future our nation has and how I should be ready for it. Okāsan, on the other hand, made sure I studied a variety of things. My education mainly consisted of herbs, first aid, medicine, and our history. I also tended the house the majority of the time.”

Sana listened to the list in silence and felt the exhaustion weigh her body down. She didn’t even live your life nor get to experience it, but it just sounded physically straining.

“Do you ever wish… we lived in an equal world, Y/n?”

Your eyes widened at her suddenly saying your name. She knew of it? Maybe you kept telling yourself that she didn’t that you began believing it. “Uhm—y-yea. I do.”

You wanted to punch yourself at the stutter. “I want to create a nation where our foundation was equality.” Her words surprised you and made your heart swell. For nineteen years of your life, the looming thought was always in the back of your mind.

‘You would always be nothing as a woman.’

But Sana’s kind heart gave you some hope, and you were willing to hold onto that for as long as you could.

You close your eyes again, thinking of the future that she envisioned, “I’ll wait for that world. Even in the afterlife.”

Sana felt her feet grow heavy as if it was impossible for her to move after that. She couldn’t fathom the pressure of your words. The princess bows deeply towards you, her eyes brimming with tears. You look around frantically, knowing you’d surely be in trouble if anyone saw the sight, but when she raises her head, and you see her face, you instinctively relax.

She looked at you with a bright smile, her eyes glistening more under the dark skies. “I appreciate your support. It means a lot to me,” she voiced. Your heart raced as she stared into your eyes, feeling your body heating up. You forced yourself to look away.

“As the future of the nation, I will, of course, trust you,” you mumble, but you made it clear to her. After the elongated stillness, she excused herself, stating she had to be somewhere before the end of the night. Deciding to head off to sleep with an early morning ahead of you, Sana was escorted to a slim tower at the edge of the land.

Her men helped her out of her palanquin, and she paces herself to the front door. She took a deep breath and then knocked in a specific pattern. The princess waited a few seconds until she heard a voice behind the door, “You may enter.”

She pushed the heavy door open, a man's back coming into view. “I have been waiting for you, Princess Minatozaki,” the depth of his voice made him feel a rumble beneath her feet.

The “wizard,” or Onmyōji, is known in Japan. They were known for being tasked with things like keeping track of our calendar, warding off evil spirits, and being protectors for the people as well. What civilians didn’t know, though, was that Onmyōji worked closely with the royal family.

They would read their prophecies.

This enabled royalties to prepare properly for their futures. This would be done every ten years of their lifetime. The royalty was told to do this with the high possibility of the prophecies changing over time, as age and experiences were a large factor.

When Sana stepped foot in the tower for the first time when she was eight, her father had accompanied her. The first reading was always a big accomplishment for any royal, and he wasn’t willing to miss it.

The only thing was Sana’s prophecy was… dark. Her father did her best to cheer her up, telling her there were always more chances in the future for something different. So she waited and waited for this day to come once again.

She stood there, a sense of uncertainty looming over her. The elderly-looking man faced her, her large beard and tall hat covering any sign of emotion or proper facial features. “I am glad to see you doing well,” she said, bowing at his kindness. He gestured his hand toward a plush chair. “Please take a seat.”

Sana sat down slowly, the eerieness of the tower making the palms of her hands sweat. “I am aware that our meeting last time… wasn’t so pleasant for you, young one.”

She looks up from her seat, debating whether or not she should voice out her concern. “Do not fret, young one. Prophecies always change,” he circles back, behind a large podium that held an equally large book. “This shall be quick, so you may go on and have a nice rest.”

Sana could only nod, her throat feeling dry at the aura of the place. “We will begin now,” he announced, taking a deep breath in. She could never see his emotions as his hands hovered over the book as if he were casting upon the dead. It took a minute, but it felt like an eternity until she heard a deep breath.

She had never heard the Onmyōji make that sound. They were always straight to the point with things and never showed any other emotion, but his hands fell onto the book, the tips of his fingers feeling heavy than usual.

“How odd…” His voice felt like it faded through her ears. “I have never seen something like this in my lifetime,” and Sana’s heart dropped at that. She already knew the unfortunate words that were awaiting her.

“Your love will stretch for all eternity,” he spoke slowly.

It stayed the same.

Sana’s fist clenched against the armrest, “this cannot be true,” her voice weak. Her anger could be felt, but Sana wouldn’t dare blame the older man for this. “You should not let this dictate you. It can always change-”

“You may not tell me that. You may not act like a light in the darkness when I have been told the same thing from ten years ago,” her words hung heavy on the heart of the old man, who couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“I will take my leave now,” she rushed out, seating herself back into her palanquin. “Back to the palace, now!” She spoke frustrated to her men, who carried her without question.

Once Sana got back to her home, her mother and father waited at their thrones, seeing their daughter walk past in a hurry. “Halt in your steps, Sana,” she heard her mother’s authoritative voice, having her pause in her position.

“What’s the rush?”

She couldn’t bear to look into her mother’s eyes, knowing she would probably break. On the other hand, her father stared for about thirty seconds before realizing her dark mood. “Is it-”

Before he can finish his sentence, Sana shakes her head slowly. All his father could do was leave his throne and give her a warm hug. “Everything will be okay, sweetie. Go forth to your room and get some rest for tonight,” Sana nods, and he whispers, “I’ll take care of your mother; do not worry.”

Sana bows and heads off, “Hold on now, young la-”

Her stern voice is cut off by her husband's gaze. The usual warm and loving king had a hardened look on his face. “Let our daughter breathe, Hotaru. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

“The last time you guys said that I never found out!”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so hard on her, you would’ve known the moment we came back home all those years ago!” He argued back, which quickly shut her up. She knew she wasn’t the greatest mother, but she did her best as a leader and a mom.

She watched as her husband left the room, likely to check on their princess, the harsh reality of his words sinking in.

Sana curled herself in bed, changing into a long night down, which helped settle her anxiety even a little. The soft knocks on the door had her look up, seeing her father peek his head into the room.

“I hope I’m not intruding, sweetie,” he comes in, shutting the door quietly as he sits next to her. “Otou-san, he said for all eternity,” she whispers, her eyes tearing up once again. “Sana, you know that isn’t always going to say the same.”

“But it hasn’t happened for hundreds of years!” Her father listened, his child’s desperation breaking his heart.

“Will no one ever love me?” She whimpers, hugging her knees even tighter. The king shakes his head, taking her into his arms. Sana felt the soothing head pats and rubs on her shoulder, “Impossible. You're too beautiful inside and out for no one to notice.”

The comment made the girl smile, but as silence went on, it got her thinking. “What if it becomes too late?”

“It’s never too late to be in love, Sana,” her father told her with a grin, but she knew he meant every word.

From that night onward, Sana couldn’t help but bury herself within her princess duties. The both of you seemingly stay busy and find no room to breathe. Yet, since the night you talked to each other, neither of you seemed to mind.

You pushed yourself hard through training and studies to avoid ever thinking of the beautiful woman. Meanwhile, Sana did it for the sake of her fragile heart.

It was a sunny day about four months after the birthday celebration, and you were in the training grounds with your father. As you were becoming more serious in your efforts within the Takeda clan, your father gave you the liberty of training with a real sword two months ago.

The sword you usually used was a simple katana, just something to work with in the meantime. Here, you breathed harshly as you trained, your dad staring at you pleased. “You always improve at such a rapid pace,” the both of you sheathed the katanas on your waists.

You bow to him with a proud smile on your face, paying no mind to some of the samurai around you. Many of them usually gossiped or had disdained faces due to the sight of you with a weapon. That, however, quickly shifted when a man declared a duel.

With your father observing and maintaining the fight, you quickly proved them wrong. They still felt some way, which you couldn’t blame them, as it was a custom for thousands of years in the family.

But they couldn’t do anything about it.

Your father looked at you as you walked towards the exit, “Have you had rest, my child?” He sees your brows raised, looking at him in curiosity. “Whatever do you mean, otou-san?”

“You’ve been going at this routine for months, Y/n. Have you been taking care of yourself?” You didn’t say anything, not even moving, and you heard him sigh. “Come with me. I shall show you something.”

He led the way toward home, and the sun shined brightly as usual. You couldn’t help but shield your eyes with the sleeves of your kimono. Your eyes followed your father, but you got a glimpse of the camellias. Those same flowers that caused the first interaction between you and the princess.

The flowers were still bright, but you noticed the leaves looking… sick? You then looked ahead as the sun blinded you, realizing rain hadn’t fallen in a while.

Without even realizing it, you and your father reach home, where both of you take off your tabs. You follow him to the back room, where a large open space is. “Take a seat,” he says, quickly kneeling on the cushions. He then takes out a long box from the closet and sets it down on the table in front of you.

“Open it,” he says as he sits in the same position in front of you. You stare at the long, hefty-looking box, not knowing if he was being for real. For the first time in a while, he gave you a smile and nodded as a sign to do so.

Your fingers felt the smooth finish of the wooden box as you opened the lid. You found thick piles of straw surrounding a beautiful katana. The weapon was in a black scabbard, but your eyes trail to its handle.

The cool-toned silver had your eyes twinkling as the cord wrap designed around it took over the clan color of a deep violet. While admiring it, you wouldn’t dare touch such a beauty.

Looking back at your father, you couldn’t even think straight, “May I ask why you’ve shown me this?”

“It’s yours,” those words had you straighten your back quickly, “W-what?”

He delicately picked up the weapon with two hands and presented it to you with a smile, “It was supposed to be for your twentieth birthday, but you’ve been working hard these past few months. I had to reward your hard work promptly.”

You hesitantly take the katana and stand up. Taking a deep breath with your eyes closed, you unsheathed the katana and stared at the beautiful, long silver blade. “You must use this for good, Y/n.”

You nod at your father furiously, and he chuckles, “But in a serious matter, you know you may not carry this on your person.” The sad reality is that it crushed your happiness within a few seconds. You took the acknowledgment of your father and his gift as a win, just bowing in agreement.

Later that night,, you sat in the center of the garden, the beautiful greenery turning dark andas the sun set. You sat on the stone benches, looking at the plain dark blue sky like you usually did.

“We seem to always meet during these hours and in odd places,” you hear to your far right. You look over and see Sana in a light blue kimono. “You’d be right on that,” she heard as she sat beside you. On the other hand, you shut your eyes, just listening to the hushed wind.

“It’s been a long time since we have last seen each other.”

“We’re at an age that gives us less freedom, princess,” she nods in agreement and stares at the dark garden. “Is something on your mind?” She asked with her sweet voice, and you smiled thankfully.

“The world is just unfair,” you say tiringly, and Sana frowns, “tell me about it.”

Her grumpy tone had your brain screaming at you to ask what was wrong, but you wanted her to tell you when she was ready. That’s how it always had been between the two of you, but Sana’s question catches you off guard instead.

“What caused you to be out here?”

You blink your eyes open for more clarity, the dark scenery flooding your eyes once again. “Just the reality of my life. I feel it is changing, which is a win, but not quick enough for people to realize there has to be a change.”

Sana listened to the quick summary, just nodding her head. “The Takeda’s have always been ruthless when it comes to women. I’m sure it’ll change someday,” you can only bite your lips bitterly, thinking, ‘Hopefully you’re right.’

“How about you?”

Sana pauses, thinking clearly for the first time in months. “I… want to change my fate, but I’m not sure it’s possible,” she says, which intrigued you. Your eyes become drawn to her figure, and she looks at the sky like she did a few minutes ago.

“Fate is never final,” your voice was barely above a whisper as you stared at her face. A cheeky smile formed, which made you blush, but you couldn’t look away from the beauty beside you.

“Those are some buoyant words.”

“Your heart… is too kind to fear what life throws at you,” you express, and Sana closes her eyes. With a smile still on her face, you see a tear cascade down her face.

Your fingers worked on their own, wiping the diamond-looking tear away, and she didn’t even jolt at your touch. “We live in a time where many changes will need to be made, and many changes will happen. It’s a matter of how we go about it day by day.”

Sana opens her eyes and turns her head, making eye contact with you for the first time tonight. You freeze, but your face doesn’t betray you as your eyes look at her longingly.

“You’re very good at this,” you look at her confusingly. “Good at what?”

“Making me feel better.”

She looks away, reminiscing about the first time you met. “Even when we first met, Y/n. You knew what to say, what to do, just making me feel… happy again.”

Your heart races at her words, and you want to smack yourself. You couldn’t fall any more than you already have for her. Rather than saying anything more like advice, your eyes stare at the flowers in front of you.

“I’ll always be here if you need it then. I’ll do my best to always make you feel happy.”

Later that night, after escorting Sana to the front of the palace, you lay in bed. Staring at the ceiling, you could only think about Sana, causing you to cover your eyes with the palms of your hand as you feel the flush rising on your face once more.

“I may be done for in this life.”

A year later, you find yourself in a large hall within the royal palace. You stood behind your father, who was seated at a table with higher-ranking nobles.

The day you realized the rain hadn’t poured in a while had become a curse amongst the entire country. You all had fallen into a country-wide drought, and it had been so long that many nations were becoming desperate.

And desperation would lead to dangerous people.

“What do we do about Kyushu?” An older woman asks, and she looks at the queen.

Your mother also stood in the room behind the royal, who kept her eyes shut. “What do we know right now?” She voices and looks at your father.

“My men informed me yesterday night that Kyushu has been making moves amongst the southern nations without any breaks. Many have been massacred for the sake of poultry and crops. In terms of deaths, my men could only account for approximately forty thousand, but they believe the number is far larger than that.”

“So Kyushu is coming up from the South? Surely Kyoto will be next,” an old man voices out his concerns. “With the pace they’re going at, it will take some time. We have about three more nations in between us, which garner up to eight hundred thousand men.”

“So it sounds like they’ll take about two months before getting here,” another older woman in glasses says. “That’s if they don’t hold other samurai hostages,” the queen says sternly, and everyone goes silent.

Your father looks at her, determination in his eyes, “I assure you we’ll be ready, your highness.”

“All one million, five hundred thousand of you?”

He gives a kurt nod, and she sighs. “Well then, you're in charge of that anyway. Make sure we’re prepared, and at the next meeting, we’ll speak of economic stature next time. Meeting adjourned.”

Your father stands up, and both of you bow, then walk out. As the two of you stroll the hallway, he expressed that he planned on announcing new regimens at the barracks, but he wanted to speak to you at home.

You decided to go into the library, wanting to study while you had the time. Being in the library seemed to always be an exciting experience for you, always finding something new in another book you’ve never read before.

Sitting down with a new book in hand, you open it and see the pages full of drawn pictures. It seemed to be a newly added book that was freshly written, finding the name of a well-known doctor of the royal family.

Your eyes would focus on reading each page of the book, pictures of stitching, herbs used as plasters, and cleaning wounds. Despite them just being drawings, it was descriptive and quite graphic but not anything you couldn’t handle.

After two hours, you were a little more than halfway into the book when an unexpected visitor walked in.

“Takeda-san,” you hear, looking up to find Doctor Koharu… the exact woman who wrote the book you were currently reading.

“Koharu-san,” you bow. “May I ask what you are here for?”

“I am… here for some books. I need them for the Princess’ medical training,” she spoke slowly, and you nodded, deciding to focus back on your book. The well-known woman went about her duties, and you thought about the last time you saw Sana.

The year seemed to pass by as quickly as light, seemingly losing track of time. You had been so focused on your priorities while you heard Sana had much to do in preparation for learning how to be a queen.

You believed it was for the better, though, as it helped you keep a clear mind.

But anytime someone brought her up, it seemed like you pictured her in your mind with sparkles behind her. It was always a refreshing sight in your mind, a nice change to your rugged reality.

As you think about her, you can only imagine her brown doe-eyes that could make you melt every time. The look they had in them when they saw something cute or pretty, the bright look on her face and glimmer could be seen.

Her contagious smile gave you butterflies and a different sense of warmth. The gracious curve that formed on her lips had you feeling a genuine innocence, a rarity from royals.

But lately, the memory of her smile felt distant, like something from a dream that was slipping through your fingers.

Almost drifting into a daydream, the drop of heavy books slamming on the floor snaps you out of your trance, and your body jolts up.

“I apologize, Takeda-san. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she bows, and you shake your head. You get up and help her pick up all the material, shaking your head again, “It’s no worries, it was only an accident.”

Standing up, your arms lifted half the heavy stack of books, and you looked at the professional. “Would you like some assistance bringing these, Koharu-san?”

“That would actually be quite nice. I would highly appreciate it,” she bows and leads you through the halls as you walk side by side with her. She had informed you that they would be going to the study room, which was on the other side of the palace, so you had a ways to go.

“Were you enjoying the new book?” She asks out of pure curiosity, a peak of interest painting her face. You nodded enthusiastically, “I always loved reading your new releases, especially for my studies.”

You heard an elegant chuckle escape from the older woman, knowingly telling you, “So I’ve heard over the years.”

“I never understood the discourtesy towards you. It’s clear you are a hard-working young woman.”

You bow in honor, but she hears a sigh beside her. “Sometimes it can’t be helped with a societal hierarchy.”

The sad smile was telling, and Koharu began to think of a simple solution. “You’re able to understand my current release, right?” You nodded in confusion, but she continued, “That would guarantee your knowledge to be light years ahead for your age. Maybe you can help the princess with her own studies?”

The question had taken you aback with the reassuring smile Miss Koharu gave you. You shook your head with a soft stare, “That wouldn’t be a good idea. I’m sure the queen would heavily be against it.”

“You have a good point,” she grumbled, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the reaction.

“The princess is always so kind, but she’s stuck with a strict mother. She has no childhood to even recollect,” you look around cautiously, worried someone may hear the negative words against the grand woman.

“It makes sense. She’s a queen who has to protect her daughter and uphold a family name. It’s probably the only thing she ever knew growing up,” you express, and the doctor could only nod as it made sense.

“Well, we’ve arrived. She’s been practicing hard, so no distractions. We head in, leave the books on the table, and walk out right away.”

You give her a curt nod as if it were a secret mission, and she opens the sliding doors, where you find Sana’s head buried in a large textbook. Her back was somewhat facing away from the entrance, so the two of you were able to set the books down swiftly.

As you make your way out, you can only quickly glimpse her face. Her focus felt immense as she bit her lip, trying to understand new information from the book. This caused you to look away quickly, feeling your heart racing all over again.

‘She’s too adorable…’ you thought but scolded yourself instantly. ‘It’s never going to happen, Y/n! Get ahold of yourself and your feelings!’

While exiting the room behind Koharu-san, Sana catches sight of your lavender kimono as the door slides shut. Her curiosity took over for a quick second, as she was aware of the doctor wearing a white one when she first visited the room.

And yet, as much as she tried to focus on her studies, her mind betrayed her.

The lavender fabric lingered in her thoughts, wrapping around the edges of memories she had tucked away for the sake of duty. She wondered if it was really you, knowing you only ever wore shades of purple, or if her mind was playing cruel tricks on her.

For a fleeting moment, her fingers hovered over the page, her vision blurring slightly. It wasn’t from exhaustion. It wasn’t from frustration over her studies.

It was the realization that she hadn’t seen you—truly seen you—in what felt like a lifetime.

A small smile graced her lips, one of quiet fondness. You had always been there, hadn’t you? The only constant in her life. The only person she could call a true friend.

She had no time for love, nor did she desire it. The weight of her future pressed on her shoulders, the crown already waiting for her, heavy even in its absence. But she cherished you in the way one cherishes a childhood memory.

And though she did not realize it, that was what made it hurt the most.

Because for you, she was not just a memory. Not just a fleeting dream from another lifetime.

For you, she was everything.

“Did she come to visit?” She mumbles to herself but shakes her head as she feels the soft pages of the book on the tips of her fingers. “You have to finish, or else Mother will get mad at you again, Sana,” She said, whining to herself.

“I should head home now, Koharu-san. My father will be home soon,” the older woman nods, patting your arm as she thanks you for your help.

Making it home before sundown, you find your mother cooking this evening. “Well, you’re home early,” you look at her in surprise, and she smiles at you. “The royal family had dinner today, so the queen let me go home early.”

You settle your katana in your room and change clothes, “I’m assuming you came from the library since your father was busy today?” You nod at her assumption as she puts all the food on the table.

Settling in your spot, your father also enters the home, just in time for the food. Disregarding the good mood he had given you the past few months, after putting his own things away, he settles down with his brows furrowed.

You began serving everyone, even your own plate, and began eating. Before any one of you could pick a piece of meat up with your chopsticks, your father looked a bit worried, “We shall talk after supper, Y/n.”

You first looked at your mother, who looked as equally worried, then nodded towards your father, who began eating messier than usual. ‘He’s stress eating,’ you thought to yourself, feeling the nerves building up between both your parents.

After dinner, your dad couldn’t, stringing you away as your mother told her she’d clean up instead tonight.

“What’s with the worry, father?”

The two of you sat in the dimly lit room, the same room you remember him giving your sacred weapon. He sat across from you in silence, his face full of contemplation as you felt the anxiety creeping up on you rapidly.

“There is a big chance we go into war,” he began, pausing again, and you nodded in understanding. You were aware of Japan’s current status, as you were the new right hand of your father during official government meetings.

This war was something inevitable, and you knew that.

“I have something to ask of you, Y/n.”

Those words had the palms of your hands sweating despite them laying comfortably on your kimono, but you listened intently.

“If anything ever happens to me… I want you to fight for our nation. Protect the royal family at all costs.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden responsibility. “Father, you-”

“You and your mother. The two of you are the things I hold dearly in my heart, and I’d never want to leave you both. But it’s my obligation and duty to put my life on the line for this nation.”

You sat there, head hanging low, trembling under the weight of his words. Your eyes shut tightly as if blocking out his voice could make the moment vanish. But it didn’t. His words were final, heavy like a sword hanging over your head. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of your tears hitting your lap.

Your father, the man who had taught you strength, discipline, and the way of the blade, now stood before you looking more fragile than you’d ever seen him. His sigh was deep and heavy like it carried the burden of centuries. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he noticed your tears, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might falter. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“I love you and your mother, but don’t let our name go in vain,” he said, his voice softer now, almost breaking. “You and I have done much in our lifetime in preparation for this, and you know that. Just keep our tradition alive, sweetie.”

The endearment, one you hadn’t heard since childhood, struck you harder than any blade could. It clawed at the edges of the walls you’d built around your emotions, unraveling you completely. The tears fell faster, uncontrollable now, and your chest tightened as if the very air was suffocating you. You clutched at your clothing, your fingers trembling, as the realization of what this truly meant sank in.

For the first time in years, the room echoed with your wails—raw, unfiltered grief spilling out in a way you didn’t think possible anymore. You didn’t care about composure or pride. Not now. Not when the man who had been your shield, your guide, your everything, was speaking as if this would be his last farewell.

He stood there, silent and unmoving, his own tears now tracing a path down his weathered face. His hands twitched slightly as if resisting the urge to comfort you, knowing that this pain was necessary for you to carry the mantle he would leave behind.

His voice, steady as it had been, was now thick with emotion as he waited for your cries to subside. He hated seeing you like this—his strong, capable child who had grown into a warrior under his watchful eye—but he also knew this was a wound he could not shield you from.

When your sobs finally quieted into soft, broken breaths, his voice came again, quieter this time, almost a whisper. “You will understand, my child, why I told you this now, why I cannot falter. Because if I don’t return... the weight of our name, of this family, will rest on your shoulders.”

The words hit you like a second blow, leaving you gasping for air. His unwavering faith in you, in your ability to uphold everything he had spent a lifetime building, felt like both a blessing and a curse. You wanted to scream at him, beg him not to go, but you knew the truth. You always had.

“Fine. I shall protect the royal family in our family name, father. Even at the cost of my life.”

There were those heavy words again, the ones you hated ever since you could even understand a single sentence as a child. But you could only despise the fate your family holds. One that you couldn’t do anything to change.

After a long two months, Kyoto seemed prepared for the violence to come. Everyone within the noble area had stocked up on food in case any homes in areas of poverty were ransacked. Every samurai under your father seemed to wait with an eerie patience that always made you uneasy around them.

All of the Takeda clan stood in the palace in front of the royal family, with you and your father standing in the frontlines. Sana looked at you, her eyes full of panic once she heard the platoon of enemy samurai had reached Kyoto’s borders.

“Today is the day. The day we fight for our nation,” the queen announces as she sits comfortably on the luscious throne, not a worry in sight. “You will all do your duties and protect the people of Kyoto at all costs.”

You all bow in loyalty at her words, hands on your sides as you feel your weapons caressing each of your forearms.

Everyone beginning to separate with the words of your father quickly trickling out of the palace. You and your father stay behind for a quick second as he leaves a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay nearing the palace.” It was all he said before he ran off, unable to even respond to him. You couldn’t help but feel her eyes lingering on you, so you looked back, bowing toward her and her only.

As if you were making a silent promise to come back safe.

The streets of Kyoto were unrecognizable beneath the thick veil of smoke and bloodshed.

The scent of burning wood mixed with the sharp smell of iron in the air, making it nearly impossible to take in a full breath without choking on the stench of war. The sky, once a peaceful shade of blue, was now darkened by the plumes of fire devouring homes, the screams of the fallen echoing between the palace walls.

You had been fighting for what felt like an eternity.

Your sword arm was heavy, aching from the countless enemies you had struck down, but war didn’t care for your exhaustion. The southern samurai, dressed in dark blue armor, poured into the city like a relentless tide, their manly yells ringing through the battlefield.

You stayed near the palace as your father had ordered, your katana carving through the enemy with ruthlessness. Each strike was deliberate, honed from years of training under his watchful eye. The world around you blurred into a haze of crimson and steel as you parried, countered, and killed without hesitation.

Yet, despite the chaos, your mind flickered back to earlier that night—his previous words flickering in your mind.

The tears you both shed that night. The pain your chest felt.

You fought harder.

Blood splattered against your cheek as your blade found another throat, the gurgled gasps barely registering in your ears before you turned to the next opponent. You could not afford to think of anything else—only the battle, only survival.

Then you heard it. "Commander!"

The voice cut through the battlefield, filled with panic and urgency.

Your breath hitched, your heart beating out of your chest.

No.

Your body turned before your mind could catch up, your eyes scanning frantically through the sea of armor and bodies. And then—

You saw him.

Your father, the man who had shaped you into the warrior you had become—stood surrounded. He fought as hard as he could, his blade a blur as he fended off multiple enemies at once. But there were too many.

Too many.

"Father!"

Your scream caught in your throat as you sprinted forward, pushing through bodies, cutting down any enemy that dared step in your path.

One of the southern samurai lunged at him, his sword striking against your father’s armor. He swayed but didn’t fall, retaliating with a swift swing that sent the enemy to the ground. But another followed in his place. Then another.

Your father was fighting with everything he had, but the force and strength of many men… he didn’t stand a chance.

You were almost there. Almost—a glint of steel. Two blades struck him at once.

Time seemed to slow, the battlefield noise softened into a distant hum as you watched in horror. The swords impaled him clean through, one piercing his stomach, the other driving into his back.

He staggered, blood dripping from his lips and from the blade, staining the purple armor covering his body. His knees buckled, his body trembling, but still—he did not fall.

A warrior to the very end.

"NO!" The word ripped from your throat, raw and unrestrained.

Something inside you snapped.

Rage surged through you, feeling blinded and consumed. The world looked painted in red as you charged forward, your grip tightening around your sword.

The first enemy barely had time to turn before you sliced right through his torso, his body collapsing with a slam on the ground. The second raised his blade in a weak attempt to block, but you were quicker—your sword plunged into his neck, severing his head in one clean strike.

Their bodies fell beside your father.

You dropped to your knees, trembling hands reaching for him as his body finally gave out, collapsing into your arms. His breath was shallow, his skin deathly pale, but he still had enough strength to speak to you one last time.

"F-Father—" Your voice broke, your tears mixing with the blood on his armor.

He lifted a shaking hand, grasping onto yours with the last of his strength.

"You… must go," he rasped, each word a struggle. "Protect… the nation."

Your vision was blurred, tears falling freely now. "No, no, please—just hold on, I can—"

A weak, knowing smile graced his lips. "You are so strong, Y/n… stronger than you know." His grip weakened. "Do not… waste time… mourning me." The light in his eyes faded.

His body went limp.

You gasped, a choked sob tearing through you as you clutched him tighter as if holding him close would somehow bring him back.

But he was gone.

The battle still raged around you, but it felt distant and insignificant. The world had collapsed in on itself, and all that remained was the lifeless body in your arms.

Then—

Voices. Urgent whispers. “The princess—she’s helping in the aid tent!”

Sana.

You inhaled sharply, the weight of your father’s final words sinking in. There was no time to grieve. No time to break.

Your fingers trembled as you reached up, closing his eyes before rising to your feet. Your hands clenched around your sword, blood still dripping from its edge.

Your father was gone.

But you were still here.

Your legs felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, by grief, by the blood of the fallen that stained your once-pristine armor. The weight of your father’s final words pressed against your chest like a boulder, suffocating, unbearable, yet you forced yourself to move.

You had no time to feel anything.

With a final glance at his lifeless body, you swallowed the sob rising in your throat and pushed forward. Your hands gripped the hilt of your sword so tightly that your knuckles burned. You couldn’t stop here. The palace stood strong, for now, but the fight was far from over. You had to ensure the royal family's safety—the safety of your people.

Your mind wandered briefly to Sana. You had overheard the maids whispering about how she had chosen to aid the wounded in the first aid tent rather than remain inside the secured palace walls.

Even amid war, she chose kindness. It was foolish, reckless even, but it was Sana.

The first aid tent was near the forest’s edge, away from the main battlefield but still within reach of danger. You pushed past your own pain and made your way there, ignoring the sharp sting of cuts across your arms and the throbbing ache in your shoulder where an enemy blade had just missed its mark.

As you neared the tent, something in the air shifted. A gut-wrenching unease crawled up your spine, and you halted in your tracks, eyes scanning the surrounding area. Then you saw them.

Dark blue armor, barely visible between the trees. Southern samurai.

Their movements were calculated and silent, their eyes fixed on the tent filled with wounded samurai and unarmed medics. They were waiting, lurking, preparing to strike. Your heart pounded as you realized their plan. An ambush.

“AMBUSH!”

Your voice rang through the air, sharp and commanding, piercing through the relative calm of the medical tent.

There was a moment of panic inside as medics and wounded alike scrambled for cover. Your body moved on its own, surging forward to meet the approaching enemies before they could reach the defenseless inside.

You barely caught Sana’s wide eyes through the opening of the tent. She saw you—saw the desperation in your face, the aggression in your gaze. You gave her a single, firm nod that silently said, ‘Believe in me.’

And then you turned, sword raised, to meet the first enemy head-on.

The clang of steel rang in your ears as you parried a downward strike, twisting your body to avoid a second attacker. Blood splattered across your face—yours, theirs, you didn’t know. Your focus was only on keeping them away from the tent.

One enemy lunged, but you ducked, slicing cleanly across his abdomen. Another swung for your neck, and you barely managed to deflect the blow, feeling the sting of the blade grazing your shoulder. Pain registered, but you ignored it. You had to lead them away.

Gripping your sword tightly, you took a step back, drawing the enemy toward you. One by one, they followed, their frustration growing as they realized you were keeping them from their actual target. But you didn’t care about their anger. You cared only about winning.

The fight was brutal. Every move burned, every breath was labored. Your arms ached, your vision blurred, but you did not falter. You cut through the group and fought through the exhaustion until, finally, the last enemy collapsed at your feet.

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, chest heaving, your entire body screaming in protest. You had won—but at a great cost.

“Clear! They’re all down!” A rush of relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Your knees buckled, the world tilting dangerously, but before you could collapse, hurried footsteps approached.

“Y/n!” Sana’s voice.

She was running toward you, her hair slightly disheveled, her pristine robes smeared with traces of blood—assumingly not her own, you hoped. When she reached you, her hands immediately grasped your arms, steadying you as she frantically looked you over.

“You’re hurt!” she breathed, her fingers ghosting over the fresh wounds on your arm, the gash on your side. “I’m fine,” you muttered, even as the world blurred slightly.

“You are not,” she snapped, the rare sharpness in her voice catching you off guard. “You need to rest—”

“I need to go back.” You tried to move past her, but she tightened her grip.

“You are in no shape to fight anymore!”

The intensity in her eyes made you falter. Sana was never this forceful, even this emotional. You had always known her to be composed, gentle in her words and

mannerisms. But now? Now, she looked furious.

Furious… and terrified. Before you could argue, she wrapped an arm around you, supporting your weight as she all but dragged you toward the palace. You didn’t have the strength to resist.

From your position, the palace was closer than the medical tent, and Sana wasted no time finding an empty room. She guided you to a futon, carefully lowering you down before immediately gathering supplies.

Her hands trembled as she unrolled bandages and mixed herbs for medicine.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, more… men… out… side…,” you mumbled, watching her fuss over your wounds. “I don’t care,” she retorted, pressing a cloth against your shoulder wound. You hissed in agony but didn’t pull away.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were Sana’s careful movements, the lack of rhythm of your breathing, and the distant echoes of battle still happening outside.

Then, without warning, she stopped. You glanced at her and saw something shift in her expression. Her eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, softened as she looked at you. There was something different in her gaze, something you had never seen before.

“Sana—?”

Before you could finish, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against yours.

The kiss was soft yet full of emotions you couldn’t quite comprehend at that moment. It was not just a gesture of gratitude—it felt like she was trying to tell you something without saying it.

When she pulled away, her eyes shimmered, her breath uneven.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Not just for saving her. Not just for protecting the palace. “Thank you for everything.”

“For standing by her my since we first met. For watching over me, for always being my shield. For being my only friend in the world.” You stared at her, your heart pounding for a different reason now. The country was still in chaos. But in that moment, all that existed was Sana. And you.

And the undeniable truth that had been there all along. Sana realized she finally loved you. “I’m not sure if I’m delusional from all the bleeding or if this is real?” You joke, and she smiles but stops as you cough in pain. “I’m the delusional one for not seeing what’s in front of me.” Your smile softens, and she kisses you again.

Your breath hitched as her lips met yours, softer than the first this time, lingering as if she were afraid you would slip away if she let go too soon. Sana cupped your cheek, her touch featherlight, as if trying to memorize the warmth beneath her fingertips. You felt her exhale against your lips, shaky and uneven, before she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

“I wish we could be like this forever,” you exhale, speaking truthfully. But both of you knew well enough that the possibility was impossible. Sana knew it even better than you did… the prophecy foretold her future, after all.

The ache in your body never fully faded.

Every movement sent sharp, burning pain through your limbs, a constant reminder of the battle fought just days prior. The deep gashes along your arms, the bruises along your ribs, the healing wound near your shoulder—were a reminder of all the trouble the southern of the samurais.

But despite it all, you endured. You had to. But Sana made it easier.

She had been by your side in the palace infirmary, tending to your wounds with a quiet look. There was no smile, no playful teasing. Only a focused, almost desperate energy as she worked, her hands trembling when they touched your bandages.

She never spoke of the kiss.

You didn’t either.

Maybe because neither of you knew what it meant. Maybe because it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened than to acknowledge the weight of what it could become.

But the air between you both had shifted.

She lingered a little longer when she came to check on you. She made excuses to see you, even when the palace healers could more than treat your injuries. Some nights, when the pain made sleep impossible, you’d find her sitting beside you in silence, the dim glow of candlelight casting soft shadows across her face.

And they honored you when you were finally well enough to stand before the royal court.

The grand hall was filled with nobles, warriors, and servants alike, all gathered as the queen herself acknowledged your service. The words meant nothing.

The praise felt empty. The only thing that mattered to you was Sana, who stood behind her mother, her expression unreadable, her hands clasped in front of her as you bowed before the throne.

You dared to steal a glance at her.

She met your gaze, and that was all you needed.

A week passed, and it became a dangerous cat-and-mouse game between the two of you. You and Sana were careful, and you had to be. The palace was no place for whispered affections or stolen glances, not when eyes were everywhere. But even knowing the risk, you still found yourselves being drawn to her, and Sana would never deny it.

Late at night, beneath the quiet hum of cicadas, she would sneak away from her chambers, slipping through the shadows without ever getting caught. You’d meet her in the palace gardens, hidden beneath the sprawling sakura trees where the moon would shine bright.

You didn’t usually speak about love. But the way she looked at you said enough. The way she reached for your hand, hesitated, then finally intertwined her fingers with yours. The way she leaned into your touch, closing her eyes as if savoring the warmth of your palm—it was enough.

For a moment, in the beautiful cold of the night, you could pretend. But that would never last.

The queen summoned you the week after, and you weren’t aware of what it was for. You had already been honored, given your father a proper burial, and were granted a larger house for your efforts.

The cold fury in her gaze, the barely restrained disgust twisting her features as she sat upon her throne. The court was silent. Servants lined the hall, their heads bowed, afraid to meet your eyes.

Then you realized the situation you were in… they found out about you and Sana.

And then the words came. All the accusations seemed to be an extreme twist on the relationship between you two.

“She suggested they run away and elope.”

“Sana got dragged by her into another room.”

“She would grab on the young lady's hand and yank it!”

You stood there, back straight, jaw clenched, as she condemned you for what you were. For what you had done. For what you had become to her daughter.

She called it unnatural. She called it shameful. She called it punishable by death.

You had expected her to exile you. To strip you of your title, your honor, your name. But she did worse. She made an example of you.

Deciding on public execution.

Not even a swift beheading. No. She wanted you to suffer. To bleed. To die beneath the very sky, you had once sworn to protect.

Your heart stopped, and your mother tried stopping her efforts. She stood up in front of everyone, yelling to stop this, explaining how loving someone shouldn’t be a crime. She basically ensured you wouldn’t die alone.

You should have known. She had been the queen’s right hand for as long as you had lived, but she was still your mother. And she would not stand for this. She pleaded. She begged. She offered her own life in exchange ,wandthe queen granted her wish.

But with the queen's cold heart, she would be killing two birds with one stone. The moment the order was given, you knew there was no escaping this.

No blade in your hand. No armor to shield you. Nothing but the suffocating weight of Sana’s silence as she stood frozen, her lips parted in horror, her hands trembling at her sides.

She couldn’t speak, move or do anything. She could only watch.

The guards took your mother first. You couldn’t scream but tried to lunge forward, but the grip of three men held you back. Her eyes met yours in that final moment, and she smiled.

“I love you,” she whispered before the katana struck. The world blurred as you were shoved forward, forced to your knees as the executioner raised his blade. You wanted to fight, but how could you? Your injuries still pained you, which caused you to lack any movement.

Sana.

You turned your head, meeting her gaze one last time, seeing her cry. She barely cried. Not the princess who was taught to never show weakness. But for you, she did.

You parted your lips, searching for something—anything—to say, but before the words could leave you, the blade came down. Pain exploded through your body, a deep, burning agony that stole the breath from your lungs.

You could feel it—your blood pooling beneath you, staining the pristine stone of the palace grounds.

Your body collapsed, and you heard Sana’s deafening screaming. You wanted to tell her it was okay, that you weren’t afraid. That maybe you could find her in another life.

But the words never came.

Darkness consumed you, the weight of the world slipping from your shoulders.

And then—nothing.

Sana didn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe or blink.

She only stared at the lifeless body before her, at the blood that soaked into the earth, at the face she had memorized all her life now frozen in eternal stillness.

This wasn’t happening.

“No… no, this can’t be possible,” she mumbled.

She dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as they reached forward. Pulling you into her arms, she ignored the warmth that still clung to your skin and refused to accept that it was fading.

“Wake up.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, her fingers brushing over your cheek, smearing the crimson that painted your face.

“Please… wake up.”

She shook you, her grip tightening, her nails digging into your bloodstained garments as her breath hitched. “You promised—”

Her words broke, a sob catching in her throat as she cradled you against her chest, rocking you back and forth as if the motion alone could bring you back. But there was no warmth in your embrace anymore. No teasing remarks, no laughter, no whispered affections.

Just cold silence.

Sana lifted her head, eyes wild with grief as she turned toward her mother, her voice cracking under the weight of her agony. “I hate you.”

The queen said nothing.

And Sana—Sana could only hold you tighter, pressing a trembling kiss to your forehead as fresh tears fell, whispering apologies that would never be heard.

Because you were gone.

And she was alone.

Remember those wretched words, ‘Your love will stretch for all eternity.’ Sana laughed hysterically as her tears fell over and over again. Her father ran over to her, trying to hug and calm her down like he usually did. Sana’s grip on your body tightened as she screamed her lungs out, feeling the pain hitting hard.

And for the first time, her mother felt a hint of sympathy. More than that, she was stunned at her daughter's actions. Sana looked a mess; the queen wouldn’t deny that, but then she thought… for the first time, maybe she was wrong.

“I’ll never accept you as my mother, nor will I ever be proud to be your daughter!” The young lady bawls as she clung onto your lifeless body, and your father held onto her hunched figure, tearing up in the state of his own child.

“You don’t deserve to be queen,” Sana said sadly, just crying as she stared at your lonesome face.

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