Chapter Text
Her world was burning all around her. She still couldn’t tell where she was, but through her non-swollen eye, she could make out the door on the opposite side of the room. If she could manage to make it over there, this did not have to be the end.
She began to wriggle her wrists through the rope binding them together. Perhaps it was the fire causing her to sweat that made it easier or maybe her captors had failed to re-tie her properly, but Momo could undo the knot if she tried hard enough.
She hesitated. While it had felt like an eternity since her latest visitor had left her prison, she could not be sure that they were gone. What if this was another method of trying to break her spirit rather than just leaving her for dead? Letting her think freedom was in her grasp, only to steal that glimmer of hope from her? What should she do?
Her fiancé’s face quickly flashed across her mind.
What would Prince Shouto do in this situation?
She briefly thought that he wouldn’t be weak enough to get himself in this predicament in the first place, but that is beyond the point. The amazing and formidable Prince Shouto would quickly and decisively do what needs to be done in order to achieve his goals, regardless of potential consequences.
To be worthy of someone as amazing as Prince Shouto, she needed to be courageous enough to take a chance and assist him in making her rescue easier.
She believes and trusts in Prince Shouto. Regardless of her captors’ attempts to convince her otherwise, she knows the kind and righteous heart of her beloved. He will come for her, but she also needed to go to him.
With the hope of freedom singing in her mind, Momo yanked her wrists free. She nearly shrieked in pain, feeling more than hearing a snap in her left wrist, but her voice had long gone hoarse from other screams. Her wrist throbbed in pain, but she no longer had the luxury of time to nurse wounds. It was already beginning to get difficult to breathe.
Gritting her teeth, Momo extended her right arm forward, clawing her fingers into the cold concrete. As she dragged herself across the floor of her intended-to-be tomb, her adrenaline-fueled mind raced with plans for her escape.
If the goddess favored her, she would be able to either find or make something to use as a crutch while she escaped down what was hopefully an easy to navigate corridor. She was not certain how long she had been missing, but she hoped that the competent Imperial Knights had closed in on her location now that her place of captivity was up in flames.
Prince Shouto would come for her soon.
It was her hope that kept her going, that allowed her to mostly ignore the pain wracking her body as she pulled herself over debris that further cut her skin and smoke filled her lungs. If she could escape, it was more than worth the indignity she felt as her chin scraped against the ground as she desperately clawed her way to freedom.
At last, she reached the door. Sadly, her upper body strength was left rather wanting given her extended captivity and ordeal she had been put through. Still, the door handle above her gleamed with hope. Her arms trembled in agony as she attempted to push herself up, only for her arms to practically collapse.
She wasn’t physically strong enough, but that was not the only option.
Trying her best to ignore the burning heat of the flames surrounding her, Momo, clenched her eyes shut, focused on picturing a simple walking stick. Her Crest magic was never the strongest, but she could do as much as this, she was sure.
But nothing happened. No stick was there, no matter how much Momo stared down at her hands in disbelief.
She either wanted to laugh or cry, but her tear ducts were dry and the smoke was already making it difficult enough to breathe, much less laugh.
Momo imagined her ancestors were deeply disappointed by their failure of a descendant.
She could even hear her mother lamenting her incompetent daughter. Now that she thought about it, had she ever made her proud?
“Momo,” her mother’s voice was filled with dismay as she watched her daughter crawling over the floor, desperately trying to clean up the broken pieces of the newest china cup that she had knocked over. She heard the giggling of some of the other ladies as her mother chided her. “Prioritize what can be influenced, rather than focusing on what has already happened.”
As she recalled the painful embarrassment of that day, Momo re-gathered her will. As a Yaoyorozu, as the future Empress, she could not give up at a simple, closed door.
Time was running out. Thick black smoke was filling the room where the bright blue flames were not. She could feel herself becoming increasingly light-headed. Still, she desperately tried to reach the door handle to pull herself up, pawing her non-broken hand through the air in a last push for freedom. She fell just a little short of her fingertips touching the handle before the smoke entering her lungs forced a fit of coughing that made her withdraw her arm.
If she were stronger…
But she was not. She was not anything. She had started life with numerous advantages, blessed with countless resources at her disposal, and what had she been able to accomplish? She had no allies, no person that she could truly call her friend. She had never earned her mother’s praise. And Prince Shouto...
Her whole life, she struggled to follow after her fiancé, trying her best to keep his back not too far ahead in the distance.
Why would someone as great and powerful as Prince Shouto turn around and come back for her?
She has failed miserably, and the Yaoyorozu legacy will die with her, in this goddess-forsaken place. The thick smoke filled her lungs, and her vision went hazy as she physically felt her life draining from her. Feeling weak and despondent, Momo curled into the fetal position.
Her last thought as she succumbs to the flames licking at her skin is that she feels awfully cold.
~~~~~~
Momo jolts with a start but finds herself almost immediately wincing in pain. Her back and neck ache with the stiffness that comes from falling asleep in an unnatural position. It takes a minute or two of blinking and rubbing her aching back and neck to orient herself, but she realizes that she had fallen asleep at her desk. The candles had burned low, and one of them had even burned itself out and shattered its container. Likely, it was the shattering that had awoken her, and it was out of sheer luck that she was uninjured and no fire had started.
Ordinarily, she would immediately panic and swiftly attempt to get rid of any evidence of her late night reading, but, coming out of her vivid dream, she’s in a complete daze. She nearly messes up making a simple large cloth, and it is with shaky hands that do not feel quite like her own that she sweeps the remaining candle wax and glass shards into the cloth before tying it into a bundle that she will discreetly dispose of later.
Her bare feet pad against her floor as she throws open the double doors leading to her small balcony. Though the sun has barely risen, feeling its light warmth provides her comfort, allowing her to shake off some of the remaining vestiges of her disturbing dream.
It was a nightmare, nothing but her active imagination running wild after reading some of those violent tales of old. While it showed her why her mother may have been correct to forbid those books, it was not an ill omen. The goddess would not be so cruel to show her such a dreadful and painful future with no recourse.
Momo would come to repeat this to herself often in the coming days, with this thought being her only source of comfort when still-too-vivid memories of the nightmare would resurface.
~~~~~~
Life for Momo has fallen back into its usual routine. Be roused awake by the maids, go to the nearby shrine to pray, have breakfast in her own room, make her way through etiquette lessons and empress-to-be training sessions, have tea in the gardens, train with her private lancing instructor in the courtyard, draft another letter to Prince Shouto, occasionally take supper with her mother. It all blurs together into one long string of monotony, only broken by the odd sense of restlessness and overwhelming feelings of déjà vu that plague and mystify her.
At least, until the day the butler Mr. Tobita presents her with a letter when serving her Earl Grey tea. The all-too-familiar seal on the letter causes her body to thrum with a sense of foreboding. Her father was usually too busy with his official duties as Archduke to send missives outside of a monthly update...
Inexplicably, this situation is extremely familiar to her, as if she had already lived through something similar.
~~~~~~
It is with great anticipation that Momo watches her father ride up on his steed, flanked by his guards and followed by knights. While she knows that it’s customary to welcome back the Archduke with much fanfare, she cannot help but eye the inordinate number of soldiers. Did he not describe the situation as being a minor skirmish while he was patrolling the southern borderlands?
Before she can think anymore of it, her father dismounts and strides gallantly towards her and her mother. The servants have all bowed, and Momo belatedly realizes her inattention. She hastily curtseys low, hoping that the sharp-eyed Archduchess has not seen her mistake from her peripherals.
Her mother had been inexplicably restless, even coming into Momo’s chambers this morning to further direct the attendants as they dressed Momo in one of her newest gowns. Though it was not any of the ones that she had liked from the various gowns she had been made to try on, Momo was nevertheless excited about it. The Archduchess had ordered many of the finest silk dresses from the famous tailor Sir Hakamata — clearly indicating her support and high expectations for her daughter. The gown set aside for tomorrow was absolutely majestic, and Momo had high hopes that it would help her to finally catch Prince Shouto’s eyes.
As she rises from her curtsey, Momo smiles brilliantly at her father. To think her father was so shrewd to use a minor incident at the border to allow Momo an opportunity to visit the Imperial Palace!
~~~~~~
Momo shakes off the odd foreboding feeling plaguing her and opts to ignore the random flare of vivid imagination she just had.
With slightly trembling fingers, Momo reaches for the letter opener on Mr. Tobita’s tray and opens her father’s letter.
Anxiously, her obsidian eyes quickly scans through his message — which started fairly normal and amiable— but it was the words “skirmish” and “southern borderlands” that gave her a suffocating feeling of dread.
Was she perhaps confusing this incident with another?
But that was not possible. The latest treaty had been signed before her birth and is still very much in effect. Ever since then the Empire has been able to turn its full military attention to rooting out bandits and ensuring peace.
Finding her voice, Momo turns to the butler who still waits for her word of dismissal. “Mr. Tobita, has Her Grace started preparations to receive the Archduke?”
If he is surprised by her question, Mr. Tobita does not show it. “Lady Momo, Her Grace has instructed the household to prepare to welcome His Grace.”
Reality is beginning to head in the direction of her daydream — or perhaps vision? — and Momo cannot currently cope with its possible implications. She should be happy to see her father rather than feeling stressed. Not waiting for Mr. Tobita, Momo pours herself more Earl Grey. She definitely needs it at the moment.
Mr. Tobita takes a small breath, his eyes softening as he looks at his young mistress anxiously stirring her tea. “Her Grace has also called for multiple of the Empire’s finest tailors.”
Momo does not miss the butler’s hint and drops her spoon against her teacup with a soft ‘clink’.
Yet another similarity. But she needs to be certain, to check one last time...
“And would Sir Hakamata be amongst them?”
“Of course, my lady.” Mr. Tobita smiles encouragingly at her, likely thinking she would be pleased at the news. “The Archduchess insisted upon having the finest dresses ready for the occasion and has used her connections to ensure that he would be an option. I would venture so far as to say that the Archduchess intends for you to join the Archduke in going to the capital.”
Momo is not surprised. After all, if her father was going to visit the Imperial Palace, it would only make sense that she would seek to come along in order to see her fiancé.
Just the thought of him causes sensations in her chest akin to heart palpitations. It feels like an eternity since she last saw him — and indeed, it may have well been the case given his propensity to be too busy for visits — and she finds herself ardently yearning for him.
But, instead of her usual fantasies along the lines of Prince Shouto returning her affections, her mind becomes inundated with visions of other things that have not passed and are yet to come.
For instance, Momo now has a more than fair idea of how this future visit will play out.
She will dress up in her newest gown to join her father on his trip to the Imperial Palace. There, while her father goes to talk to Emperor Enji, she will wait for her fiancé in the Inner Gardens, only for a very apologetic valet to eventually greet her and explain that Prince Shouto was regrettably in the midst of training and was not to be disturbed. Having been taught to always observe manners, Momo would put up no form of protest and endure the ensuing humiliation of having some of the nobles at court witness the extreme indifference the Crown Prince has shown towards his fiancée.
Realizing she has yet to reply, Momo clears her throat. “I see, thank you, Mr. Tobita. Has His Royal Highness sent a response yet to my latest letter?”
Though she very well knows the answer, she just has to ask. Just knowing he even thought of her always gave her comfort and allowed her to further nurse her affection for him.
Mr. Tobita briefly averts his eyes, and Momo instantly knows her suspicion is correct.
“No correspondence has yet to be received but, rest assured, Lady Momo, I will have it brought to you the moment it is delivered.” Mr. Tobita, seeing the dejection in the lowering of Momo’s obsidian eyes, is quick to encourage her.
If anyone in this large manor — or even in the Empire — was to be considered remotely her friend, Momo supposed it would be Mr. Tobita, her fellow tea connoisseur. While there is still the distance and respect required between two individuals of vastly different stations, Momo had long since realized that serving tea to the House’s heiress was not a duty typically delegated to the butler.
Momo dismisses Mr. Tobita, still feeling dejected but also grateful for his reassurance. She’ll miss him terribly when she goes away to Yuuei.
Ah, speaking of which, Momo now has to confront the possibility that there is more to her dreams and feelings of déjà vu. She still has another year until she would attend the Yuuei Imperial Academy, yet why are more and more memories of her first four years there filling her head?
They are too numerous, too vivid, and too specific to be conjured up by her mere imagination. Were these memories a warning from the goddess or some other deity taking pity on her? Perhaps, but would it not be sufficient enough to give her visions of only her death and the events surrounding it? Not to mention, she still remembers the feeling of the toxic smoke filling her lungs as she gasped for air, the searing heat of the flames that burned her flesh, the overwhelming feelings of anguish and self-loathing.
She has read foreign tales of time travelers, some of which were only transported back in time after their deaths for another chance at vengeance or redemption. She had been inclined to think of it as nothing more than fanciful tales of other lands since there was no such advanced magic that was known to exist to the Empire. However, there is no other explanation that Momo can come up with that feels the closest to being right.
Well, whatever the case may be, Momo is no fool and would not waste the foresight gifted to her by this odd predicament. She may not be certain as to the source, but she has experienced that these visions have merit. In them, she had died feeling useless and powerless, so she will just have to become stronger so that those events leading to her death will not come to pass!
~~~~~~~
After taking the time to sort through her memories, Momo identifies significant events that will happen, jotting them down in vague phrases in code in case anyone happened to stumble upon her writing. Though she has tried to recall more specifics regarding the events surrounding her death, all attempts have led to piercing headaches and near panic attacks. Nevertheless, Momo has managed to come up with three main objectives to circumventing her particularly unpleasant demise.
First, she would need to vastly improve on her weaponry handling abilities. While she could take up the sword or the bow and arrow, her best bet currently is the lance. It had been her weapon of choice in her first life — though that is not to say that Momo was particularly skilled at it. After all, she had primarily picked that as her weapon in order to increase her chances of being placed in the same class as Prince Shouto.
At the Yuuei Imperial Academy, first year potentials were given an entrance exam a couple months before the school year. At that point in time, the prospective students would be given the opportunity to show off their prowess before being placed under a specific professor who would nurture their abilities to its full potential throughout their time at the academy. While students could petition for class changes, it was notoriously difficult to obtain approval.
In her first life, Momo had been clever enough to know that since Prince Shouto would not likely show off his own dual Crests, it would not be in her best interest to specifically put herself in the mage class by displaying the Crest of Creation. After successfully managing to get herself in the same class as her fiancée, Momo had unfortunately spent the majority of her time trying to impress him with her devotion and intelligence rather than honing her lancing skills or her Crest.
Second, speaking of her Crest, she needed to live up to the pride of her bloodline and hone her magic. She had not only been blessed with the long-thought lost Crest of Creation but also having one of the strongest manifestations of it since its original wielder, the legendary hero known as Creatmillion. She had essentially failed to keep her Crest legacy living, so fate had ironically only seen it fit that her Crest failed to keep her alive.
Third, though House Yaoyorozu was one of the strongest and wealthiest noble houses in the Empire, they certainly had their fair share of political enemies and rivals. Rather than strategically making alliances with other noble heirs during their formative years, Momo often alienated or distanced herself from them — Momo had trusted neither them and their possible agendas nor herself and her abilities to discern them. Besides, what need did she have for other noble houses when she “had” her fiancée Prince Shouto?
She had only discovered the need for more allies when no one had come to rescue her (when her Shouto had not come to rescue her).
All in all, it was a simple plan, but Momo knew that she would have to give this all of her and then some if she were to challenge the fate laid out by that nightmarish vision.
~~~~~~~
A couple of weeks later, while Momo is making notes on her progress and jotting down useful memories that are still in the process of returning to her, there is a sharp knock on her door that nearly startles Momo. Hastily, she returns her quill to the inkwell and stuffs her notes into her already paper-filled desk.
“A-ah, you may enter.” Heart still thumping wildly, Momo turns in her chair to see who her guest is, expecting it to perhaps be a maid or servant calling her to supper.
The double doors swing open, revealing a regal beauty dressed exquisitely in burgundy, one of the colors of House Yaoyorozu. Her inky black hair is pulled into an elaborate side-swept chignon, giving her the air of a lady of elegance and sophistication. Her cat-like, onyx eyes are piercing as they scan the room, assessing the state of things before landing on Momo.
Momo nearly gapes for one second before hurriedly rising and walking to greet her.
“Your Grace.” Momo curtsies, her posture ramrod straight and slightly stiffer than necessary.
The woman’s lips curl almost imperceptibly, and a sense of trepidation almost immediately overcomes her. She has a strong feeling on what this is about and had been expecting this at some point. But all the preparations in the world would never give her the confidence to handle the Archduchess.
“Momo, my darling daughter.” Archduchess Yaoyorozu smiles, and though her countenance may appear to be warm, Momo continues to feel a chill. “I thought that we could perhaps stroll in the garden for a bit before going to the great hall together.” Though one would think by her words that it was a request, Momo knew from experience that it was an implicit order.
“It would be both a pleasure and an honor, Your Grace.” Momo returns her smile, albeit a little shakily. She prepares to walk a couple of paces behind her, but the Archduchess shifts her left elbow out. When Momo hooks her arm through hers, her mother firmly locks their arms.
As they glide out past the curtseying entourage of attendants, the Archduchess raises her hand, signaling for them to give the two enough space. Once they are out of earshot, the air seemingly drops several more degrees.
“It has come to my attention that you have recently increased your training.” Archduchess Yaoyorozu states, ever gracefully gliding along the hallway. Meanwhile, Momo nearly almost stumbles. “Should I be concerned?”
Momo focuses on righting herself and at least following the Archduchess’s pace. She nervously wets her lips, looking down towards the floor. “Not at all, Your Grace. This training does not nor will it ever interfere with any of my lessons.”
Actually, her lessons have become even easier as she recalls more and more memories. Her lance and Crest training is yielding slow progress, but Momo knows better than to expect instant results.
Archduchess Yaoyorozu sighs. “I do suppose that your tutors have been praising your progress lately, so I will allow it. See to it that this continues. Need I remind you who you will represent when you attend Yuuei?”
She resists the urge to bunch her free hand around the skirt of her dress, instead raising her eyes to look directly at her mother. “No, Your Grace. I am well aware that as its heiress, my actions and reputation will reflect upon that of House Yaoyorozu.”
The archduchess nods once in approval, and, in the brief silence that follows, Momo foolishly thinks that perhaps the worst of it is over.
If only.
“I have also been told that your written correspondence with His Royal Highness has all but ceased.”
Despite her vast etiquette training and learning how to properly school her expressions, Momo flinches at the verbal slap in the face. She should have known that her mother would immediately pick up on her failure to write to Prince Shouto.
“Ah, y-yes,” Momo stammers. “It has been impressed upon me that absence would make the heart grow fonder until our reunification at Yuuei.”
That is, if her fiancé was to even notice the absence. Even now, she had numerous unanswered letters of admiration and invitations to tea that were returned promptly to her stored in her desk. She had kept her mother unaware of the fact that the “correspondence” had ceased long ago, partly out of fear of disappointing her, partly out of self-denial.
After all, in her first life, she had fallen deeply in love with her intended. He had been nothing but cold and aloof to her in their academy days, but she had been determined to gain his affections. When she wasn’t showering him with her attention and gifts, she was studying hard to learn various tactical maneuvers to impress him. Alas, Prince Shouto was just too talented for him to ever need her input. Momo wasn’t much use elsewhere, in spite of her Crest.
Archduchess Yaoyorozu frowns, and the grip on her arm tightens subtly. “What frivolous drivel. Am I correct to assume that it was one of the other ladies that suggested this to you?” She shakes her head in disapproval. “I will have to investigate further into this unwanted influence. If this was not done out of mere flightiness, but of malicious intent…”
She knew her mother well enough to know that she would very well carry through on her threat. The thought of giving up those monthly tea parties and having to take her usual tea by herself in the gardens....
In a panic, Momo blurts. “Your Grace, I assure you, none of the ladies said anything out of malice!”
In fact, none of the noble ladies had said anything on the matter. All of them were none the wiser to Momo’s romantic troubles, in both this life and the last.
At her outburst, Archduchess Yaoyorozu raises an eyebrow. Then she sighs, reaching forward with her free hand to pat lightly on Momo’s arm. “Oh, Momo, my little duckling, I have protected you for so long against the realities of human nature.”
The archduchess’s expression darkens, and Momo feels her grip tighten like a vice. “Human greed and envy know no bounds, and the vast majority succumb to these feelings to use the most despicable of methods. You must protect yourself by any means necessary.”
“Y-your Grace-” Momo starts, thrown off by the intensity of her mother’s expression.
“You think me paranoid, but that is merely because you are a child who has not yet experienced how cutthroat politics truly is. You are to be the future Empress, the next mother of this great Empire. Many will try to reduce your influence and power, try to wedge a gap between you and His Royal Highness to make you more vulnerable.”
While that may be true, it was this line of thinking that led Momo to being vulnerable during her academy days, distrusting and putting distance between herself and others.
She needed to keep herself open for any potential alliances down the road. Being of House Yaoyorozu and tied to the Imperial House Todoroki certainly had ultimately not been enough to save her. Or perhaps it was even a contributor to her downfall?
Momo frowns, opens her mouth to respond, but the Archduchess interrupts her.
“You may have one more tea party before you depart for Yuuei, but I will have to oversee the guest list.” She sighs, loosening her grip. “I suppose you must learn for yourself, though I am loath to toss you to the wolves.”
There is silence, and Momo belatedly realizes that the Archduchess is now allowing her to speak. “Thank you, your Grace.” She hastily bows her head, as always, biting the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from saying anything else stupid or ill-advised.
The Archduchess nods, and the two once more fall into silence. Then:
“I suppose you hope to use this tactic of indifference and not join your father when he travels to the capital next week?”
“Yes,” Momo almost meekly murmurs, but she tightens her own grip on her mother’s arm, pleading with her to agree. To her luck, her mother surprisingly acquiesces.
A part of her feels strange at finally changing an event of some significance. Change is truly scary, and Momo’s not sure if she’s quite ready for its possible effect going forward.
But, she already knows how the visit would’ve gone, and quite frankly, the whole trip would end up being a waste of time that would be better-spent training.
Not to mention, it was her overwhelming and all-consuming love for Prince Shouto that led to her downfall. While she still doesn’t have a clear grasp on all of the events directly leading to her demise, she knows that her love made her extremely vulnerable and would further serve as a distraction now.
She is still struggling with it, with giving up the feelings inside of her. Seeing and spending time around him would only serve to exacerbate her issues with letting go of such strong feelings.
If she wants to live, she must not love Shouto Todoroki.
~~~~~~~
The next morning, the maids deliver her a letter shortly after she’s gotten dressed.
After seeing the royal seal, Momo shoves it to the bottom of her desk drawer, intending to forget it all the same as her feelings towards the sender.
