Work Text:
The ground was cold under Sara. She could hear fighting outside of the building, but she knew that she was now alone.
Alone.
When did that happen? Was it when she received the news from Guuji Yae? Or when she went against the Tenryou Commission's will? If she had to pin it down… she would say it was the moment that wretched woman beat her down… and the Almighty Shogun stood by, silent.
Maybe she had been alone for much longer. It was just Sara and her beliefs up until that same faith forsake her and left her broken on the ground. She didn’t know how long she was lying there—only vague memories of the traveler charging in and a fight breaking out. She didn’t know who was on what side. It was a mystery who had won.
By the time she had come back to her sense, it was only long enough for her to catch snippets of a conversation:
“...not secured, please.”
“Kujou Sara?”
“—please—”
“—are you?”
It all sounded like gibberish in her scattered mind. Sara heard footsteps and then suddenly there was a cold hand on her wrist, then gentle fingers checking her pulsepoint.
As the woman touching her called for more help… her world tumbled into black once more.
Sara’s dreams were filled with images of a beast. The creature chased a bird through a thunderous field… feathers heavy with rain. The bird was struck by a bolt of lightning and fell to the ground.
She woke up to a cool cloth being placed on her forehead. The chill of it stung against her hot skin and she raised a hand to bat it away. The only thing Sara managed to do was brush a limp hand against the person who was tending her wounds.
“Already fighting? You just woke up,” a cheery voice chastised before dropping into a serious tone. “You’re safe, I promise. Let us get you back into tip-top shape.”
… It was the Naganohara daughter, wasn’t it? Sara tried to open her eyes to check, but the light still seemed too violent. No, it was certainly her… Sara could hear all her accessories and knick knacks jangling with every movement. What was she doing there? The only time the two ever spoke was when Yoimiya got pulled into the Commission headquarters for some reprimanding or other. Sometimes it was a misuse of fireworks, other times the quartering of a wanted man. More often than not, it was both.
Sara’s body was thrumming with pain. Each breath seemed to rattle her very bones. She winced when her senses began to return, and tried to shift her position.
“Woah—I would not try that if I were you.” Yoimiya’s hands were now on her side. “I don’t really know how your wings work— really , awesome, by the way, they look wonderful—but they don’t look very good.”
Usually as a tengu her wings weren’t visible… but she could feel them spread out from her body and on display for all to see. Sara immediately tried to dismiss them, the pain ricocheting through her wings and back. She screamed.
“Hey, hey,” Yoimiya cooed, Sara feeling her hot hands smoothing her face, pushing back her hair in a motherly motion. Sara nearly blacked out in the moment, the pain all-consuming and powerful. “Listen to me… I need you to take deep breaths. One.. two… three…”
While Yoimiya began to count down again, Sara had half the mind to continue onto four and end on five. Her own breaths were fast and felt suffocating. Her head felt heavy and it lolled backward into the pillow.
Even as she plunged back into a deep sleep, Yoimiya continued to caress her cheeks.
On the ground, the bird could not open her wings.
Sara was in more pain when she awoke, but it wasn’t as all-consuming. This time as the pain thudded throughout her body, she followed it. The sensations rested most dramatically in her wings, blossoming into her left shoulder and wrist… maybe a few of her ribs. It would be a good while until she could shoot again, that was for sure. Never mind flying.
The room was quiet around her. Sara could barely make out conversation and laughter through the screen wall, but her ears refused to catch any individual words. The pillows were soft, and she slowly opened her eyes.
It was bright. Sara winced, but forced herself to look at her surroundings. The one wall was taken up by sliding doors, all open and facing a familiar courtyard. The Kamisato Estate bloomed around her, a few of the guards and housekeepers wandering the grounds. Small bonsai littered the courtyard, and her eyes wandered to the pond. Sara would walk over it whenever she visited the estate, but she was always too busy to stop and enjoy it. She wondered if they kept koi.
Ayaka was standing by the pond, her hands clasped together as she stared ahead, speaking to the tall man standing at her side. Sara believed it to be Thoma (him and Yoimiya had come to the Tenryou Commission more than enough times to be familiar), but the pain was occupying her thoughts to the point that she couldn’t tell for sure.
Sara’s lips were dry and cracked and her throat felt like sandpaper when she swallowed. It tickled, so she coughed—the movement ricocheting through every pain in her body.
She blinked heavily and tried to catch her breath. Center herself.
“Kujou Sara.” Thoma was suddenly at her side. He always appeared in control of things, both in his line of work as well as problem-solving among the locals. He was a sharp one for sure… and Sara always kept her eyes out for him on the off chance he needed new employment. “I’m going to need you to keep your head up long enough to drink water.”
His hand slipped under her heavy head and she flinched, but all he did was carefully prop her up. The water felt cool on her lips, but she found it difficult to swallow. She coughed a few times, the pain criss-crossing on her ribs.
“Easy there,” a second voice said. Sara turned her head and found herself face-to-face with Kamisato Ayaka. Her gray eyes bore into her with an icy gaze, but her eyebrows portrayed a much softer expression. She spoke like a child attempting to lure a kitten into their arms. “We brought you here so you would be safe. Please drink water before resting longer.”
Sara attempted an answer, but it sounded more like a groan. But she did as she was told, sipping the water Thoma held to her lips.
He was so gentle even though she was the enemy. He was careful not to drown her with the water, which was sweet for someone whose Vision was almost ripped away. Sara deserved to be suffocated at least a little. Her head pounded as she gulped the water down and gasped for air.
“Would you like to rest?” Ayaka asked. “I can fetch you a fresh blanket.”
Sara was barely awake when Ayaka returned with a clean sheet. It felt like a cloud and it had been warmed by the sun.
The bird rested in the jaws of the predator, but its teeth did not lock shut.
And so a day carried on as such. Sara would wake for moments, sometimes alone, sometimes with others. Infinity stretched around her, but it was already moving whether she was present or not.
One of those times she awoke to two voices whispering above her body as if holding a vigil.
“The Almighty Shogun sent Guuji Yae to ask about her,” Ayaka spoke first with her usual formalities. Sara was surprised she talked that way even to friends. “The other miko can care for her at the shrine.”
“You heard what the traveler said about what happened!” The second person was Yoimiya. “The Tenryou Commission had been corrupted—she fought her way there and the Shogun didn’t even care! Look at her, we can’t send her back .”
“She’ll always be loyal to the Shogun.” Ayaka said it like it was a curse. Maybe it was. “It was the Fatui that did this to her.”
“The Raiden Shogun didn’t stop it. Ayaka… please.”
Ayaka heaved a long, tired sigh.
“I’ll ask my brother.”
While the elder birds searched the ground for the hatchlings lost in the storm, the bird hid in the cave of the predator, held close to the warmth of the pack.
Over the next couple of days Sara’s condition improved enough that she could sit up, take meals, and move to the courtyard to stare up at the clouds. Of course, she couldn’t accomplish any of the tasks without help. The part that surprised her was that it was Ayaka and Yoimiya who were in charge of her care.
While the Tenryou Commission and the Kamisato clan were allies, it was clear that was an assumption contained only by paper. Perhaps Sara couldn’t produce any evidence linking them to the rebels, but she didn’t need to be a general to put two and two together.
Ayaka rarely spoke to her at first. There was no mention of Guuji Yae or the Almighty Shogun. Sara could only assume they were turned away at the door. The Kamisato daughter gave her the news objectively: the Vision Hunt Decree’s end, the traveler’s fight against the Shogun, the relative lack of casualties (all things considered) of Sara’s troops. Sara didn’t know how to react to any of it. So she nodded, fully aware of the disappointment etched in Ayaka’s face.
It was a bit different when Yoimiya was around. The pyrotechnician would launch into a story or two about her own day before asking Sara about hers. Yoimiya brought playing cards, spreading out a game on the blankets covering the tengu’s lap. In between rounds they would chat until Sara’s ribs hurt from the effort.
Her news was much less objective. It was how she knew Arataki Itto was tearing up and down the city looking for her to have a rematch. It was also through Yoimiya that she learned Takayuki was awaiting punishment, leaving her brother Kamaji as acting clan head.
“Sorry, Sara,” Yoimiya said, her tone terribly sad. “Family can be difficult.”
“They aren’t my family,” Sara bit back, instinctively. She regretted her words immediately, the gravity of them hanging in the tatami mat room. “I mean… never mind.”
Yoimiya nodded, her choppy bangs falling in front of her eyes. “Messy feelings are okay. You’ve been through a lot these past days.”
They let the game pass in silence after that. It was the longest Sara had ever seen Yoimiya go without uttering a single word. Sara could tell she was trying hard to do so—letting her have time with her own thoughts.
Eventually the screen door slid open and the lady of the house entered. She looked surprised to see Yoimiya there, glancing out at the setting sun as if to check the time.
“You’re welcome to head home,” Ayaka said. “I promised you I could watch her for the evening.”
“Thoma asked for me to stick around,” Yoimiya said. She patted Saras knee through the blanket. “He said it would likely be a two man job to get Sara to the bath. He thought it would be best to ask Sara who she wanted help from.”
“I see,” Ayaka said. There was an unmistakable blush painted across her cheeks. “Would you prefer both of us instead of Thoma?”
“I would,” Sara said, clearing her throat. It wasn’t that she believed Thoma would be disrespectful—rather men were a difficult subject. She looked to Ayaka. If anyone in the room appeared uncomfortable, it was the Himegimi herself. “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”
“I am,” Ayaka insisted.
“Sara, you should have heard her before we became friends. Did you know that noble ladies can’t use public baths? She would get so nervous and—”
“That’s enough of this.” Ayaka huffed and it was the most indignant Sara had ever heard her.
“Alright,” Yoimiya relented, cleaning up the cards from Sara’s blankets. The bright girl leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “She’s gotten a lot better since we’ve been a couple—much more open to her feelings and less… stiff!”
“Yoimiya!” Ayaka hissed. Her face was even redder as she began to rearrange the pillows behind Sara.
Sara… well, she admittedly didn’t know how to feel about such information. She had never thought of the two as romantic, but the explanation struck her with clarity. It made her feel at odds with the room… like she was wedging herself into someplace she didn’t belong.
Ayaka was staring at her. At first, Sara feared she had spoken her thoughts aloud, but she said, “Maybe we need Thoma to help get her up.”
“Nope, her legs and back are good. Plus her one arm!” Yoimiya insisted. “As long as we don’t put pressure on her shoulder or wings… Ayaka, stand behind her.”
Yoimiya gripped her good hand and Sara braced her feet against the futon. She was always impressed with the ease that the tiny woman could help her up. Yoimiya only came to her shoulder, but she supposed she was accustomed to years in the workshop and archery practice.
Sara grunted as she rose, unaccustomed to being stationary for so long. Every time she stood the pain raced back to her brain—warnings from every part of her body that she was hurt. She gasped when Ayaka had to put slight pressure on her wings to steady her. It was… embarrassing: two women needed to just help her to her feet, her arm in a sling and each breath feeling like glass in her lungs. And she couldn’t even hide her wings, she thought as they twitched in discomfort.
“Steady there,” Yoimiya hummed. “We have you.”
With a woman on each side of her, the tengu shuffled through the house. They were right—it was a two-person job to get so far. She took in shaky breaths, always declining the offer for a break. Sara was a general, wasn’t she? The least she should be able to do was reach the bath.
Yoimiya adjusted her kimono as it began to slip from her shoulder. She cooed words of praise, but Sara could only concentrate on the next step… and then the next. Her feet felt floaty on the tatami. She gritted her teeth.
Eventually they had made it to the bathroom in a journey that felt like kilometers. The room was lined with natural stones and a large bath with warm water that filled the air with steam and calming perfumes. Yoimiya and Ayaka carefully stepped out of their house shoes in the doorway. They led Sara to a wooden stool that stood in front of a full-length mirror. There was a bucket nearby a spout for rinsing, as well as jars of soaps and shampoo.
“Let’s get you all washed up,” Yoimiya said once they had finally gotten her to sit down.
Sara hated the reflection that greeted her in the mirror. The state of her body took her breath away—the bruises on her face and their sickly blues, violets, and yellows. Her wings spread out behind her… their ink feathers ruffled and missing in spots. She sat hunched over on the stool, unhappy as she took in her oily hair and torn-apart body.
Ayaka and Yoimiya undressed first before helping Sara out of her kimono. Sara tried not to watch them too intensely—but it was either the beautiful women or her own broken reflection, so she bowed her head and waited for the moment to pass. Ayaka carefully unwrapped the sling keeping her shoulder supported, not letting her arm fall suddenly to her side. It felt tender as she cradled it, her muscles unused to balancing the weight of her arm.
It was Yoimiya who slipped the kimono off, letting the silk run against her skin. Her wings caught on the hasty accommodations they had to make in order to fit the tengu. The room was quiet until Yoimiya started humming. It was a soft protest against the lack of conversation, albeit a weak one.
“How are you feeling?” Ayaka asked.
Bare? Vulnerable? LIke the reality of all that had happened presented itself in a mess of bruises and cuts and broken bones?
“Okay,” Sara landed on. She met a flustered Ayaka’s eyes in the mirror. “I feel fine.”
Yoimiya filled up a bucket of water, gently pouring it over Sara’s head. It felt nice as the water kissed her bare skin, helping to wash away the ash that Thoma’s cloths hadn’t been able to clean. Ayaka stood behind her, massaging the water into the roots of her hair.
“Can I also wet your wings?” Yoimiya asked. She had to commend her for not asking absurd questions about them… as much as the sparkle in her eyes portrayed an utter fascination.
Sara cleared her throat. “Rinsing would be fine… they don’t need to be washed with soap.”
Yoimiya did so and the tengu unwillingly and instinctively ruffled her feathers. She watched as they puffed up in the mirror to take in the water and now even Ayaka was trying not to laugh. Sara wanted to crumble into nothing, she only ever washed her wings when she could guarantee solitude .
It was somehow Yoimiya who kept her composure, passing shampoo to Ayaka. She took it, pouring some into her hands before lathering them together. Once she was satisfied she got to work, tilting Sara’s head back. Her fingers danced along her scalp, clearing out the days of oil and grime that had accumulated. At first it felt strange and awkward, but Sara let herself get taken in by the sensation, closing her eyes. Her touch sent tingles down her spine, but she relaxed into Ayaka’s presence. She felt guilty—it was surely not a princess’s job to wash dirty hair, but she was grateful.
“You… smiled,” Ayaka said, and the observation would be the only reason Sara knew of the reaction. She felt hot suddenly, but Ayaka just brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes saying, “I’m glad.”
“It feels nice, doesn’t it?” Yoimiya asked. She rinsed the suds from her hair, but a second round was agreed upon. “Whenever Ayaka washes my hair it reminds me of my father bathing me when I was young. Nice memories and all.”
She phrased it as a universal experience, but the reminiscence had caught Sara off-guard. Her adoptive father had never offered a hand—she was too old at five and her father was too awkward to step in.
Then that left… Sara’s own line of thinking jumped uncomfortably in her heart. Then that meant no one had ever washed her hair for her, save Ayaka, herself.
“Still feeling good?”
Sara was thankful for Yoimiya’s question. It was enough for the sentimental air to disperse. “Better.”
“Better?” Ayaka asked. She rinsed the shampoo out, shielding Sara’s eyes. “That is a good sign.”
While Ayaka considered what oils to add to the tengu’s hair (Sara never bothered on her own—not with two brothers), Yoimiya took to washing her body with a soft cloth and soap. She was quick and thorough, never allowing Sara a moment to dwell on the absurdity of the moment. She instead focused on how strange it was to see Yoimiya without her large variety of hair accessories. They always made Sara want to reach out and touch them… like a kitten drawn to a piece of string.
“Thank you,” Sara said as the two women rinsed themselves off and led her to the tub. It would be spacious enough for all three of them to fit. “Thank you.”
The words weren’t enough to capture the feeling of fingertips dancing against her skin.
The bird was preened in the den and its flock never noticed the lost pair of wings.
By the time they had gotten her to Ayaka’s room, Sara felt as if she could sleep another week. Despite the bath’s efforts, her body ached from so much movement. Her wings had grown exhausted as her muscles clenched to floof them out, the feathers puffing to dry. It was the least of her embarrassment somehow, as sitting nude on the edge of a princess’s bed really went above and beyond to earn the prize. Sara watched timidly as Ayaka shuffled products on her dresser, Yoimiya reminding her what Thoma said about the various ointments and wraps. They each wore one of Ayaka’s silk kimonos, hair tied up from their dip.
Sara had tried to fight back on the oils and lotions, but Ayaka was insistent that they would help ease her—mentally, not physically.
Ayaka looked at Sara on the bed before handing Yoimiya a jar of lotion. “This is just for hydration… do you mind putting it everywhere except the face?”
Yoimiya laughed. “You’re just avoiding a very natural part of a wom—”
“Enough, enough.” Ayaka buried her face in her hands. Even Sara chuckled at her shyness, leaning forward as Yoimiya started at her shoulders.
“She’s so easy to tease,” Yoimiya said again, clicking her tongue. “I love her.”
Sara nodded, unsure which part she was agreeing to. She sucked in a quick breath when Yoimiya ran her fingers over her hurt shoulder, but she was doing her best to sit still.
Ayaka joined them, rubbing drops of oil between her fingers. “Thoma recommended some of these extracts for the bruising.”
Sara stared straight ahead as Ayaka captured both of her cheeks between her hands. They were cold against her skin that had been warmed by the steam of the bath. Ayaka bit her lip as her fingers worked the oil into the contours of her face. She looked gorgeous and noble as she concentrated, clearly attempting to avoid meeting Sara’s eyes.
She couldn’t blame Ayaka. How many times had the two of them gotten into arguments during the Tri-Commission meetings? Sara may have turned a blind eye to some of Yoimiya’s discretions, but how many times did Sara enact punishment on the people of Hanamizaka? She had even watched Thoma nearly killed for crimes that were barely his—all for the sake of the Shogun.
The Almighty Shogun wasn’t the one who picked her up off of the ground. It wasn’t her father, nor her brothers.
Ayaka warmed another lotion on the tips of her fingers while Yoimiya carefully massaged her legs.
She was terrible to these people. Cruel , even. Yet when the hour came, they were the ones who flocked to her side, caring for her as no one had before. The two women were essentially strangers —
Sara’s face grew warmer as the panic stuck its talons into her throat.
She wouldn’t cry, not over the couple bathing her and not over a failed eternity. Sara wouldn’t allow it. She was a general. She was a tengu. She didn’t need such pretty comforts to keep her afloat in the rising storm.
Ayaka’s face melted into concern. “Sara?” she asked.
The tears burned in shame down her cheeks. She blinked them away, but it was much too late. Yoimiya’s touches slowed and then the room turned still as a sob ripped apart her chest. It hurt. It hurt her ribs and her aching bones and tore up her lungs and stood on her heart.
Ayaka tried to take her face into her hands, but Sara bowed her head down, trying to fight back the sobs that racked her body. Instead, Ayaka placed a hand on the back of her head, pulling Sara close to her chest. Yoimiya slipped a blanket around her, carefully maneuvering around her wings.
She didn’t deserve their care—she couldn’t erase all that she had done. Yoimiya took her hand and rubbed circles on the back of it. The action only served to make Sara cry harder. When was the last time she cried? Was it as mythical of a moment as her father washing her hair?
Sara felt the room closing in on her—all of her mistakes stacked like logs in a fireplace. She was scared of what the two would do, and her ribs ached from the sobs. She deserved punishment for her actions, but all Yoimiya and Ayaka did was care for her as if she were their own.
“There, there, get it all out,” Yoimiya whispered. Even through the embarrassment, Sara was surprised by the empathy laced through her words. “You deserve to be cared for. No person should have to go through as much.”
“I’ve…” Sara barely managed. “I’ve caused you nothing but pain.”
“You let me go? Remember?” Yoimiya said. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Sara. I think you’re a little lost.”
She squeezed her hand as she said the words. The perfume they used smelled of the sakura blossoms, Ayaka’s scent worn on her own skin.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Ayaka whispered. Her fingers were still running through her hair. Sara had argued with her so many times, she never expected Ayaka to hold her close. Her kimono was soft against her face and Sara felt terrible for wetting them with her tears.
Sara was sure her head would ache in the morning, but some part of crying felt good. It made her feel like maybe she was allowed to be as broken as her very bones.
The bird would need time to heal. But in a home that was not her home, she would be safe to fly.