Archive of Our Own

For as long as she can remember, Haruka has lived a life dictated by expectations. For even  longer than her memories can trace back, she has obeyed without complaint.

After all, what reason does she have to denounce society’s expectations of her? As someone born into wealth, with connections so closely intertwined with that of the royal family, it was only natural that the upper echelons of society would cast their gazes towards her, meaning she must learn to mingle with them accordingly. Thankfully, Haruka has never found herself to be a rebellious person - or rather, if she ever did feel the need to rebel, she’d channel that energy into something more useful. A good noblewoman of high standing must learn the virtues of humility and discipline to one’s tasks, of course, as her father has told her time and time again. She has never been one to argue with that logic.

Instead, she finds herself undertaking her duties with pride. Despite the fact that diplomatic ventures and needlework may not be her most favourite tasks, she still endeavours to complete them to the best of her ability, just as she enjoys less menial activities. Without knowing these less desirable chores, her candidacy as a potential bride would be jeopardised, to the point where her being the future duchess wouldn’t be able to make up for her lacking skill.

Right, she shouldn’t say potential bride anymore. No, she’s now betrothed, and according to her parents, she’s going to make a beautiful bride once she comes of age. 

The news of her betrothal came unexpectedly, and, like most other decisions regarding her future, she had no say in the matter. All Haruka had known was that a worthy groom had asked for her hand, and her parents had accepted on her behalf. Of course, Haruka is well-versed enough in the affairs of high society to know that the groom must have had little to do with the proposal - instead, it was the product of lengthy negotiations on the part of their families. Really, she should be grateful that she didn’t have to get involved.

Then why is she so hesitant?

Before the announcement, Haruka had never met her betrothed, except in passing at various functions and diplomatic ventures. When she heard his name, she had tried to rack her brain to figure out when she’d seen him last, only for her most memorable interaction with him to be from six months ago, where he’d nearly spilled his drink on her gown. He had apologised sincerely for the trouble, bowed, and made his exit. At least from that interaction, Haruka knew he was at least capable of making up for his mistakes.

Thankfully, her parents weren’t going to marry her off without fostering at least the slightest connection between them. They were soon encouraged to take up correspondence with each other in the form of letters, so they could get to know each other more thoroughly. From his previous letters, Haruka has learned that her betrothed’s pastimes include inventing and innovating upon current technology, and even more curiously, he also seemed to enjoy plays. That wasn’t surprising, considering that his writing style suggested he had a flair for the theatrical. To his credit, however, he also isn’t unkind - while he doesn’t write to her like a lover would, he does show interest in Haruka’s life and her aspirations, just as she does towards him. A match like this should turn out to be perfect, but…

When Haruka’s thoughts finally settle, she shivers, enveloped by the frigidity of mid-morning. Even though Haruka usually wakes up at this time, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to the cold, even though sunlight is dancing between the dappled leaves of the tree she’s resting under, and the grass once slick with dew has long since dried. Nestled into the roots of the tree, a few forlorn apples gleam as patches of light blossom onto them, then become enshrouded in shade when the sun changes tack to shine from a different angle. When Haruka reaches for one to examine it, she finds it nearly spotless. Just like everything in the Kiritani household, even apples not fit for collection must be perfect. She stows the apple away by her side, then returns to what she should be doing.

Her breath becomes plumes of smoky ice as she reaches into her pocket to unfold a letter, sealed with the gilded insignia of a noble family. As light illuminates its surface, she makes out the text at the bottom, reading From Rui Kamishiro. 

To her knowledge, the Kamishiro family was affluent, but not so affluent that they would disallow her to continue her hobbies. Haruka is fortunate enough to be able to continue living her life as usual, as long as she continues doing what is expected of her, with her future completely charted out to provide her optimal comfort. She doesn’t know why trepidation has been building inside of her, considering that there are far worse positions that she could be in. Why should she feel anything but grateful, then?

A sigh escapes her mouth, congealing into frost. Rui is chivalrous, sure, but Haruka isn’t sure if what she is feeling towards him is genuine affection. Of course, it doesn’t need to be genuine, but she wonders sometimes if she’d actually be happy being with someone she doesn’t wholeheartedly love. No amount of wealth or status could replace true love, after all.

Maybe someday she’ll warm up to him. She has to, if she wants to meet expectations. 

Haruka manages to skim read the letter, her emotions still eating away at her. It consists of a few ramblings about Rui’s latest inventions, vague remarks about the happenings of his family estate, and the revelation that he was going to be having guests soon from a faraway kingdom, and he’d like for her to come and greet them too. Performers, he explained, who were renowned far and wide for their skill. Haruka has never been particularly interested in the performing arts, but she makes a mental note of the occasion anyway, since it was better to be polite and attend rather than risk offending someone by declining. Otherwise, the contents of the letter are civil, but impartial enough that if she didn’t know who was writing to her, she might have mistaken it for a letter from a friend. 

That’s fine by her. Rui’s letters are peace and stability to her, and they promise nothing but that in the future. Sometimes, however, Haruka wonders if there’s ever going to be more to life than this.

Deft hands crisply fold the letter up again, until it looks completely untouched. Having an existential crisis in the middle of her family’s orchard is not the brightest idea of hers, she has to admit. Still, it’s not the worst place to be right now. Since she was young, Haruka has always admired this orchard, one of the many things the Kiritani family took pride in cultivating. The apples grown here are the finest pedigree one could get in this kingdom, with a lustre said to rival the heavens above, tasting of ambrosia, or rather the closest thing you could get to ambrosia in the living world. When Haruka was first taught this at a young age, she was of course more interested in actually eating the apples themselves rather than their history. However, nowadays, basking in the speckled shade, Haruka can come to appreciate all the effort put into producing a bountiful harvest.

Languidly, she feels around for that apple she stashed away and presents it to the light again. One of these before tea shouldn’t hurt, right? With resolve, she holds it up to her lips and shuts her eyes, expecting to bite straight into sweet bliss-

-only to find herself biting into thin air instead.

Strange. She doesn’t recall disappearing apples to be a part of her family’s repertoire.

Perhaps she simply imagined the whole thing? Haruka doesn’t think she has an imagination that wild, but since she can’t find any other explanation for this, she accepts it and reaches for another apple, this one slightly bruised, littering the roots of the tree. Like clockwork, Haruka’s eyes flutter shut, and she holds it up to her lips, only to find that the apple has vanished yet again. She certainly couldn’t have imagined that.

Then what was it, if not her imagination? Upon inspecting her surroundings, Haruka doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and not only that, if there was an intruder, surely she would have noticed them wrenching the apple out of her hands, right? This situation was growing more and more perplexing by the second. To test her hypothesis, Haruka takes yet another apple from beneath the tree, however, this time she keeps her eyes open as she leans in to take a bite from the fruit.

There it is - so brief that Haruka could only perceive a split-second flash of it, but there nonetheless - a shadow of a hand snatching the apple away.

“Who’s there?” She barks, gritting her teeth in agitation, but there appears to be no response, nor trace of who could have done such a thing. With increasing vigour, Haruka scrambles to her feet, briefly glancing above her just in case the culprit was in the tree above her, but the foliage betrays nothing to her except the ever-constant blaze of heat. 

“I know someone’s there,” Haruka continues, “I saw you. Come right out this instant.”

In her lifetime, Haruka has always been taught to expect the expected. No manner of fantastical happenings should distract her from living out an honest, almost painfully conventional life. Unfortunately, that doesn’t prepare her for when the expected actually happens. Such as now, when a figure is beginning to coalesce before her very eyes as if smothered in light, blossoming into view in a sheen of gold before it dissipates with the breeze and Haruka is left with the sight of a very… odd girl standing in front of her.

Haruka could call her odd, but odd doesn’t even come close to being able to describe her. After all, with such radiant hair, the same shade as ripe tangerines imported from the south, Haruka would think the girl would wear something more colourful to complement it, rather than being draped in darkness, only accentuated by the gilded clasps and highlights of her outfit. Her face is partially shrouded by the brim of her hat, but the burnished silver gleaming in those eyes doesn’t exactly suggest unkind intentions. In fact, the lopsided grin on the girl’s face tells a different story. A story of satisfaction, she notes, by the three apples cradled in her arms.

Those are peculiar fashion choices, Haruka muses, complicit with a very normal first impression. Something tells her, however, that she should be less focused on the girl’s lack of fashion sense and more focused on the fact that she’s been stealing. Perhaps Haruka should also be concerned about the fact that she just watched a girl appear out of thin air, too?

“Did you actually see me?” The girl inquires, and Haruka doesn’t know why she’s even humouring her, but she makes a noise of assent anyways. Oddly enough, this makes the girl deflate, withering away just as this orchard will in winter, and she complains, “And here I thought I was getting better at illusion magic…”

Illusion magic? It hits her like a stampede of cavalry, and Haruka laments on how she didn’t notice sooner. A wide-brimmed hat tapering into a point, clad in all black in a stark contrast to the iridescence of the daytime, slipping in and out of view like it was second nature… a witch has been stealing her apples all this time. She knows enough about witches to know they bring nothing but trouble wherever they go.

“Put those down,” She asserts, jabbing a finger at the witch, “and how did you even get in here?!”

“Same way you did, through the gates.” That smug expression of hers is starting to heighten her frustration. “Oh, and I think I’ll be keeping these. I need a nice souvenir or three, after all.”

Haruka doesn’t know what makes her blood boil more, the fact that this girl was stealing from the orchard, or the fact that she was going to use her loot as a souvenir, of all things. Patience has always been a good virtue of hers, but even she is growing increasingly fed up with this tirade. Balling her hands into fists, Haruka rolls up her sleeves, bellowing, “You’re going to drop the apples and leave at once or I’ll arrest you for trespassing-”

“Arrest me? What are you, the fun brigade?” The girl giggles, making her stomach churn - she’s not going to let anyone make fun of her and get away with it, does she? That is, even though Haruka has a feeling that the girl’s intentions aren’t to make a mockery out of her. 

Now she’s getting distracted. There isn’t any time to worry about anyone’s true intentions - right now she has a troublemaker on her hands to deal with. Before Haruka can begin the pursuit herself, however, the girl tosses out her hair with one hand, then turns her back, angling briefly back towards her to utter those fateful words, “By the way, if you want these apples back so badly, you’ll have to catch me first!” With that, the girl takes off, and Haruka doesn’t hesitate in pursuing her.

“Thief! Those don’t belong to you!” Haruka yells after her as she races between the trees, her lungs already burning with the strain of chasing the girl. By no means was she unfit, quite the opposite in fact, but the sheer thought of a witch getting the best of her makes her blood vessels boil. Her boots thump against topsoil, debris dislodged by the insistent stamp of her heels, with only one goal in mind - to teach a lesson to this troublemaker.

Everytime Haruka draws nearer to the girl, however, she races a little further away, weaving through the trees as if she were the most agile show horse, only if show horses could bend nature to their command. Her eyes narrow until she can only see an orange blur eluding her capture. The chase takes them through rows and rows of trees, past winding snakes of ivy and aromatic daisies crushed underfoot by Haruka’s pursuit, until finally the coverage of the trees begins to thin out and she recognises where she is.

Of course, why didn’t she think about that earlier? They were beginning to steadily approach the walls of the orchard, and once the witch was cornered, there would be nowhere left for her to run. Satisfaction burns through her veins, scorches away her irritation and forces her to speed up. Just a little bit further, and then this would all be over-

To her absolute horror, the witch doesn’t stop there. Instead, she somehow clutches at crumbling brick just enough to vault upwards, launching herself until she’s perched at the very top of the wall with her spoils. 

Haruka may be strong, but she’s never been able to do that. Unable to slow down quite as quickly, she nearly careens headfirst into the orchard wall. The sting of defeat hurts just as much as it would have hurt to crash.

Glaring up at the mischief-maker, Haruka shouts, “Give those back at once!”

The girl, however, merely smirks, a catlike expression upon her face and an apple poised delicately in one hand as she sings, “You’re going to have to make me.”

Make her? Fine, Haruka has overcome challenges before, and she can certainly overcome this. She paces back a few steps to give herself a proper head start before racing towards the wall again, just like the witch did, leaping towards it and scrabbling around for a proper hold. It doesn’t work. She tries a few more times. Still, nothing works.

“I thought you were going to make me?” The victorious witch bats her eyelashes innocently, and Haruka grits her teeth. One more time, and Haruka would surely succeed in scaling the wall. That is, until she fails yet again, and this time the girl can’t help but giggle at Haruka’s misfortune. 

“This is insufferable,” she grumbles, before raising her voice, “Just get back down here before I call the guards.”

The girl doesn’t react, instead languidly running her finger along the gloss of the apple. “Hmm…” she muses, “How about I do this instead?”

She holds the apple up to her lips. Something deep within her twinges.

Beneath her incisors, its flesh yields, a nectar-sweet cavern being chiselled out from the forbidden fruit. The girl stares directly at her all the while, with such a goading expression that she doesn’t know whether she wants to slap her or bow her head in reverence. Her eyelashes flutter. Haruka’s heart skips a beat. 

She loathes this feeling. This feeling of being powerless, being unwittingly enticed into a serpent’s den. This girl must have placed her under some sort of spell.

“Delicious,” the witch beams, “I always wondered what these ones would taste like.”

Haruka doesn’t realise how parched her throat is until she tries to form words, but they crumble away, intricate castles of sand being gutted by a howling breeze. She gulps, grasping for an intelligent thought, but it’s difficult to find any when she’s hatefully entranced.

“Leave,” she whispers hoarsely, “leave or I’ll make you.”

That clearly wasn’t the right move, given how the girl’s smirk only widens, “Don’t you remember what happened last time you tried to make me do something?”

Okay, that was fair. Haruka wishes it wasn’t, though. “Fine. If you’re not going to leave, can I at least have your name?”

“Oh, you can’t have my name,” She insists, “but you can certainly know it. I’m Hanasato Minori. They call me the Asphodel Mage.”

Haruka would have made a snide comment in response, however her meagre education on witch culture had reminded her that this might not have been the best idea - since witches made contact with a number of magical beings regularly, they were often very particular about their word choices, for example making sure that people knew their name instead of having their name and therefore given ownership of their identity. Tactfully, she decides not to comment on something so serious.

At least she has a name, now. A name is a start on the troublesome pilgrimage to victory.

“Thanks, by the way. That was a good apple.” Minori comments, the once plump apple cradled in her grasp now merely a core. Haruka gawks - when did she have the time to do that? Was speed-eating a talent witches were cultivating these days? 

“You really can’t beat the quality of rich people's food,” the witch grins, “Anyways, I’d better actually get going. Bye, Haruka!”

How does she know my name? She wonders, but that split second distraction allows Minori to launch herself away onto the other side of the wall, disappearing completely out of sight. Haruka jolts forward, trying to catch any sight as to where she could have gone, but there’s no trace of her - almost like she never was here in the first place. That is, there isn’t any trace except a forlorn apple core still resting at the top of the wall. The sight of it makes her want to drive her fist into the brick.

At least she’s learned one thing from this encounter. Witches are unbearable.

…

Haruka has rarely, if ever, tasted a defeat in her life as crushing as this one.

Shame lingers around her like poisonous perfume, clawing at her as a constant reminder that not only did she fail in capturing the thief, she missed perfectly viable opportunities to get the job done. Its noxious mist follows her all the way back inside the manor, making her bristle with agitation in such a way that even the servants flitting up and down the halls were reeling back from her. Failure definitely isn’t a good look on her. 

When she approaches the mahogany double doors to the drawing room, Haruka pauses to take a deep breath, letting her face fall into a more relaxed expression. If her parents are around, she’d rather not make her disappointment evident to them, in case they try to question her competency. Once she feels sufficiently prepared, Haruka pries open the doors, before peering around to check if anyone’s inside.

Amidst the gilded opulence of the drawing room, it appears to be strangely empty, as if it were the room of an abandoned castle still primed to receive guests. Not a sound spills forth from within, nor any sign of anyone being here at all. That is, until Haruka finally notices her mother, slumped into an ornate rocking chair and laying stitches into a garment of some sort. 

Unlike Haruka herself, her mother is an expert at keeping quiet. No matter where she went, she always made sure her presence was slim, nondescript, able to meld herself into any conversation or social situation without disturbing the balance or taking up too much space. Allegedly, it’s a feminine virtue of hers, one that Haruka should try to emulate more in the future. Right now, it was alright for her to take up activities deemed more masculine, but according to her mother, sooner or later she’d have to step back into a matronly role so as not to impose on the men of the family. Haruka doesn’t know how she feels about that, frankly. 

A few stitches more, and finally her mother notices the figure peering from the doorway. “Haruka,” she greets, gaze unflinching from her work, “come in and sit with me, won’t you?”

She does. Without another word, Haruka makes her way inside, her footsteps taking her unconsciously towards the sprawling window and its alcove. Time after time in her youth, Haruka has rested here for a variety of reasons - in triumph after winning a duel, in peace whilst reading a book, or embroiled in thought whilst completing homework from her tutor. Now, however, Haruka slots herself into the corner of the alcove, still brewing with vexation. Even the weather seems to be reflecting her mood - where once there was unending sunlight, now there are ashy clouds congealing to block the sun’s rays. It’s beginning to look miserable, both out there and here.

Whilst her mother continues to toil away, Haruka presses her face against the glass, still gazing longingly at the outside world. Her frustration is so palpable that she’s almost tempted to slam her forehead into the window as hard as possible. How could she hesitate back there? How could she let that opportunity slip by her, and let a potentially dangerous thief get away? Not only that, why did she even let the witch speak her piece? If Haruka could travel back in time to that moment, that witch would have been captured in an instant, but sadly fate isn’t that kind to her. 

Haruka diverts her attention towards her mother again, head bowed serenely as if in prayer, but she knows better - those deft hands are busying themselves with a craft that noblewomen have undertaken for generations. Sewing has never been her forte, but her mother makes it seem so effortless in the way her needle dives in and out of the fabric like a silver fish leaping across the sea’s surface. Sometimes, Haruka wishes she were more like her mother. If she was, she would have been diligent enough to have wrangled that witch the moment she saw her, and failure would still be a foreign concept to her. Now, however, a little part of her wants to be like that fish - roaming free in the abyss of the ocean without a care in the world.

It isn’t long before her mother notices Haruka’s unwittingly intense stare. She pretends she doesn’t notice and continues her work, methodically completing her line of stitching and binding together the ends of the thread. When Haruka’s focus doesn’t abate, her mother glances up, and when their eyes briefly meet she shivers at the thought of being psychoanalysed by her own mother.

“Haruka, I happen to notice that you look troubled,” She comments whilst turning over the fabric, and a weighty sigh escapes her, “I am, mother. I was out in the orchard earlier, and a girl snuck in to steal apples. I chased after her and tried to track her down, but she was too quick. I cannot believe I let her get away...”

Her mother purses her lips, jabs the needle a little too eagerly into the garment, then responds, “That is rather troubling… but I am sure it isn’t the end of the world. I shall ask your father to place more guards around the orchard. Were you able to find out anything that might help us identify the culprit?”

“She told me her name,” Haruka admits, “It’s Hanasato Minori.”

It’s almost terrifying how quickly her mother’s expression morphs into one of contempt. She was already aware of how adamantly her family held hatred towards certain families, but sometimes it still catches her off-guard to see such extreme emotion from either of her parents.

 “Witches,” her mother snarls under her breath, “Those horrid people. That whelp from the Hanasato family has come to torment us...” With conviction, her mother rises, setting aside her unfinished work and placing a hand upon her shoulder, “You know what your father has always told you, right? If you see that witch again, arrest her on sight. This is an opportunity to rid ourselves of more of our enemies.” 

“Understood, mother,” she murmurs, hoping her mother doesn’t notice the way she gulps under her breath. 

“Good,” comes the response, and the storm finally clears when her mother’s expression brightens once more. “Keep watch over my things. I must go inform your father about this,” she orders, and without another word, she turns on her heel and strides out of the room, the door shutting with a resounding thump.

It’s only then that Haruka realises that her hands are trembling. She flexes her fingers, trying to get the tremor to stop, but nothing seems to be working. Is it because she knows that these hands must draw blood someday, one way or another? Is it because she’s hesitant about taking away someone’s freedom, even if they are a witch? Is it because she’s terrified of failure?

Maybe it’s all three of these things. Maybe Haruka isn’t as prepared to uphold her family name as she thinks she is. Someone worthy of her lineage wouldn’t hesitate to bring down a single witch, right?

Haruka leans her head back against the window, observing every little detail that happens to catch her eye. 

It looks like it’s about to rain. 

…

Haruka has heard enough about witches from her tutor, not to mention the gossip of the noblewomen who would attend her mother’s garden parties. Really, the only important thing she needs to know is that witches are dangerous and must be eliminated, however witches from the Hanasato family must be regarded with special caution. The legends aren’t too clear on the details, but the general gist of the story remains the same - hundreds of years ago, a witch from the Hanasato family had been summoned to cast her blessing on the Kiritani family’s heir, however mistakenly she ended up cursing the child instead. Naturally, this led to a bitter, deep-seated rivalry between the two families, one which has stood the test of time until this very day. Once, Haruka caught herself questioning why anyone still cared about that legend, or if it was even entirely true. That day, she had forced herself to help her father file paperwork for hours, as a method of self-discipline for letting herself be so careless as to question authority.

Sure, it was common sense for her to doubt such tales, but a good noblewoman needs to know how to respect authority. If nobody else was going to hammer that lesson into her, she would have to do it herself.

Thankfully, a few days have passed since the witch made her appearance at the orchard, and Haruka hasn’t caught wind of her since. No matter how many times she pestered the guards, or how many rounds she made of the orchard, there had been absolutely no trace of magical activity, so perhaps the witch had learned her lesson and abandoned her life of crime. It sounded like a reasonable explanation at the time, but now that Haruka thinks about it a little more, it sounds a little idealistic. No devoted witch would relent at the first sign of trouble, right? 

Even so, Haruka’s life has been oddly peaceful lately, as if nothing ever happened. Maybe she was free to drop her guard now, even if only a little bit…

No. That was out of the question. Haruka had already failed once, and if she were to relax now, she would undoubtedly fail in her duties again. 

This time, she isn’t situated in the orchard - no, there were too many guards swarming the perimeter there now, and despite the fact that it was a good thing, what with a criminal on the loose, Haruka now finds that she can’t focus whenever she’s there. Especially not when the friendlier guards happen to spot her and end up striking up a conversation that lasts the entire afternoon. She appreciates their amicability, but sometimes she would get a lot more work done if she wasn’t bothered so often.

That’s why Haruka decided to relocate instead to the courtyard, which was usually barren on weekdays whenever her parents didn’t have visitors on the estate. The courtyard provided the perfect sanctuary for whatever she needed to do - it’s idyllic, lush with greenery that soothes her just as much as being in the orchard does. Not only that, but she can’t help but admire the architecture of it all, what with the opulent marble lacing the perimeter of the courtyard, making it seem almost as if this was the garden of the afterlife itself. 

Does admiring architecture of all things make her unusual for her age? Haruka hopes not, but deep down she wishes she could appreciate things more suited to those her age, not just what society pressures her to do.

At least now she can indulge in a more youthful activity, whilst leaning languidly against the balustrade descending towards the main area of the courtyard. She’s poring over the fifth and latest volume of her favourite series of serialised novels, with this volume following the story of a tailor embroiled in a crime of passion in an attempt to pursue her lover. Initially, Haruka’s parents had been opposed to her interest in the series with all it’s violent content, deeming it unladylike, but after much convincing, her parents had agreed to let her purchase the rest of the series, as long as she promised to keep the tomes a staunch secret. That was her first and perhaps only rebellion she has ever staged against expectations - after all, what reason does she have to try and fix something that isn’t broken?

Haruka scans the pages with an intent fervour, engrossed in the conflict. Since her life had never been quite as exciting, in her opinion, delving into fantasy worlds was one of the only ways she had to make sure life wasn’t boring her to a great extent. Sure, maybe reading gorey novels isn’t the best method of escapism, but it satisfies Haruka, and that’s what matters.

By now, she can tell the story’s beginning to get to the best part. After all her crimes, the tailor has noticed that even her scissors have been stained a different colour, and Haruka can’t help but wonder if she will actually get caught, or-

“Boo!”

In very unladylike fashion, Haruka screams, and she would have nearly tripped right down the marble steps if it wasn’t for the balustrades she had been leaning on. Ice chills her veins as her mind comes to a panicked conclusion - the source of the voice must be the tailor herself, come to claim Haruka as her next victim. Terror jolts through her as she brandishes her book, smashing it into the first thing she sees as self-defence. 

That something, however, ended up being a certain witch’s face.

“Ow…” she whimpers, her voice muffled by the hardcover, “Why does this always happen to me…”

Stunned, Haruka lets go of the book entirely, and it slams against the ground just as loud as the pounding of her heartbeat. Sneaking into a noble family’s orchard just to steal apples is one thing, but coming back to the estate knowing full well that she was a wanted criminal is on another level. Do all witches have a death wish these days?

Perhaps they do, she figures by the lopsided grin Minori shoots her, mostly unfazed by what had just happened. 

“Looks like I’m getting better at illusion magic. I actually scared you that time, didn’t I?”

Minori’s triumph is irritating. Far too irritating. Haruka cannot let her claim yet another victory. 

She surges forward and seizes Minori’s wrists with a vice-like grip, her fingernails digging into soft skin. Bemused, the witch’s lips curve into a smile, and she chirps, “I don’t think that’s how you hold hands - wait, slow down! What are you doing?!”

Haruka clears her throat as she drags Minori down burnished steps, and as she continues to lug the girl along the path, she announces, “I’m arresting you. Like I should have done ages ago.”

“Arresting me?!” Minori wails, and it’s almost comical how expressive she is, like a pampered noblewoman’s lapdog begging for treats. “But why?! I am but a humble witch who has never done anything wrong in her life!”

“You’re a thief,” Haruka refutes, glaring back at her, “And I was told to apprehend any witches I see on sight.” Oddly enough, this makes Minori pout, “Aww, but that would be mean, right? I’m the friendliest witch you know. I’m not doing you any harm.”

“Correction: you are the only witch I know.” If she’s going to be honest, she doesn’t even know why she’s putting up with this. Really, Haruka shouldn’t even be trying to socialise with a witch, and an annoying one too, but for some reason she feels compelled to keep arguing with the girl. Perhaps it was just her desire to get back at Minori for constantly evading capture. “Besides, how do I know you weren’t about to harm me earlier? Why are you even here? I thought you would have learnt your lesson by now.”

What Minori responds with, however, catches her off-guard. “Oh, I’m actually here for you!”

For me?

Haruka’s heart skips a beat, and she momentarily loosens her grip on Minori’s wrists, just long enough for her to wrench her hands away. Another beat of her heart misses the mark when Minori doesn’t turn tail and run, instead beaming with all the overconfidence of a recruit for the royal guard during their first day on the job. What exactly did Minori mean when she said that? If it wasn’t to assassinate her, what could a witch possibly want with her? To kidnap her for a bribe? To curse her for eternity? Or perhaps her ulterior motives were much more sinister?

“Hehe, don’t look so worried!” A giggle escapes Minori’s mouth before she continues, “I just need some of your hair. See, this potion I’m making requires a lock of hair from a fair maiden, those are the spellbook’s words, not mine, and you fit the description, so I figured I’d ask you.”

That was… rather anticlimactic. Coming all this way just to ask for a lock of her hair is definitely the last thing she could have expected. Now Haruka feels a little silly for psyching herself up so earnestly. 

Against her better judgement, curiosity spurs her on to gather more information. “And what is this potion for, exactly?” Haruka raises an eyebrow, to which Minori responds, “It’s to promote plant growth. The marigolds have been dying more often these days, and we need them to keep practising some forms of light magic. That’s why I’ve been put on plant revival duty.” She puffs out her chest, “It’s a very important task, trust me.”

Haruka is possibly the least experienced person in witchcraft to walk the earth, but even she doubts how a lock of her hair was going to make a potion for plant growth. How do those two things even correlate with each other? More importantly, why her specifically?

“Now answer this,” Haruka orders, “Why did you decide to ask me? Surely you could just as easily ask a ‘fair maiden’ closer to home? Or one of your friends?”

The sardonic smirk besmirching Minori’s features tells Haruka that perhaps Minori has rehearsed this entire conversation in her head already. “Well, my friends aren’t noblewomen like you. I figured that getting a sample from someone who’s got noble blood would make the potion work better.”

Casting all etiquette to the side, Haruka mutters under her breath, “...as if you even have friends.”

A gasp escapes Minori’s mouth, her eyes widening as she feigns offence. “How dare you! You wound me! Of course I have friends! I know Airi, she’s another witch, but she’s off travelling at the moment. Oh, and Kohane, she’s my best friend and she always saves me the best pastries whenever I visit her bakery. And…”

“You only have two friends?” Haruka raises an eyebrow, sidelining the fact that this was pretty hypocritical coming from her, since she only really had one, her childhood friend An. Speaking of An, she can’t help but recognise that one of the names Minori mentioned felt strangely familiar. It doesn’t take long for her to connect the dots and realise Kohane must be the girl An is courting, judging by the fact that Minori mentioned her family’s bakery. Haruka has learned much about her from the lovesick spiels An spews to her about their relationship, and she has learned enough to know that thankfully Kohane doesn’t pose a threat. It really is a small world, she supposes.

When she returns her attention to the conversation at hand, she notices Minori’s brow is furrowed in thought. Soon, she glances up, stars sparkling in silver eyes as she exclaims, “Actually, I have three friends! You’re my friend too!”

Ignoring the fact that some part of her is actually considering that idea, Haruka’s nose scrunches up, “We have met once, and only once. You stole from me. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t see how that constitutes a friendship.” Minori dithers, trying to refute that fact, and Haruka continues whilst disregarding her struggle, “Speaking of previous encounters, how did you know my name?”

“Who doesn’t know your name?” As Minori circles Haruka lazily, plodding around her, she figures that it’s a fair point she’s making. Even though she’d like to think her life is fairly bland, she comes from a family whose name is so widespread that even at the farthest reaches of these lands, someone would know who they are. It’s the result of generations of toiling on part of her family in order to eschew from temptation and climb all the way to the highest legions of nobility-

“You’re one of the most eligible bachelors around, after all.”

That’s… nothing like what I was thinking.

Haruka gulps as Minori approaches a little too close for comfort, and the drum of her heartbeat doesn’t slow down when she draws away. “I’ve heard lots about you,” she continues, drawling over every word, “They say you’re strong, capable, and, best of all,” An unusual glitter manifests in Minori’s eyes, “apparently, you look attractive on the battlefield.”

She bites her tongue. Is the heat starting to become sweltering, or is it just her? 

Minori gazes at Haruka expectantly, as if awaiting a response. She’s starting to think that that bush over there looks like the most interesting thing in the world right now. 

“...please, take what you need and go.” Haruka mumbles under her breath. 

“Really? I knew I could count on you! Okay, hold still…”

At first, Haruka isn’t sure where exactly Minori pulled those scissors from, attributing it to some sort of spell she used to magically manifest things out of nowhere. Soon, she realises things aren’t as fanciful as she thought - it was simply the fact that her pockets blend seamlessly into her dress. I wish my dresses had pockets… she ruminates as Minori snips off the tiniest sliver of her hair. As it turns out, sometimes there isn’t a need for ulterior motives or otherworldly magic.

Humming as she stuffs the lock of hair into a satchel that Minori must have also retrieved from her pocket - how much space do those pockets even have? - she chirps giddily, “Thanks! Now I can go make that potion, so I can actually contribute for once…” Before Haruka can interject, unconsciously argue that no, surely with the skill she demonstrates in her craft, Minori is still contributing, she digs into those pockets yet again and tugs out a dome shaped object, inscribed with gilded sigils. 

“I’m kind of on a time crunch, so I’d better go, Haruka,” She exclaims, “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone!”

With that, Minori tosses the object onto the ground at full force and it explodes, unfurling into a mist that seeps anywhere and everywhere into Haruka’s vision. Spluttering coughs rack Haruka’s frame as she raises her arms to shield herself, squeezing her eyes tight, but by the time the mist has subsided and it’s safe to look again, Minori has completely vanished yet again.

No sound permeates the courtyard, except for the distant warbling of a sparrow. It’s only then that Haruka remembers she was supposed to be arresting Minori.

This time, however, Haruka isn’t left as disappointed as she was before. Dare she say it, she’s starting to get accustomed to Minori’s company. Sure, they have only met twice in total, but Haruka can already say that she’s one of the most entertaining people she’s had the displeasure of interacting with. She doesn’t know if that reflects badly on her, Minori, or both of them. 

That wasn’t the only thing she garnered from this, however. Now, Haruka had the advantage of knowing who she should go to next for more information about the witch. Next time they meet, she vows she will be more prepared for the encounter, however it goes. No longer will she let Minori dance circles around her, both metaphorically and literally. 

Who was that girl she mentioned again who lived in the village? Asuzawa Kohane? I believe An can tell me where her family’s bakery is. 

Looks like I have a trip to make…

…

Thankfully, Haruka didn’t have to search for very long, on part of one of her only weaknesses - sweets.

Along with penguins, unusual creatures from the frigid north that aren’t even real, according to some people, sweets have been a guilty pleasure of hers for as long as she can remember. Since her youth, she has always been attempting to sneak extra treats wherever she can - it was easier when she was a little girl, and her family’s servants couldn’t resist the allure of an adorable child, but nowadays those days of begging for an extra pastry or two are over. Her inner child still revels whenever she’s able to have something sweet, however, and not only that, but Haruka still hones a skill she developed in her youth - the ability to locate bakeries and sweet shops to an abnormally precise degree.

This particular bakery she has been scouring the village for is located near the outskirts of the town, a relief since Haruka wasn’t open to dealing with the crowds today, with how rowdy they could get in the weekends. Sadly, this was her only opening between her duties to be able to make a trip to the village, so she’s thankful for the fact that the crowds are sparser here.

In fact, the crowds are so sparse that Haruka realises she’s never actually been to this bakery before. Sunflower Bakery, as she reads from the sign dangling over the entrance, is an unfamiliar name to her, a peculiar surprise considering how fond she was of sweets. Perhaps this place was opened not too long ago? That didn’t seem to be so, judging by the fact that the lettering on the sign, adorned with paintings of sunflowers, was beginning to peel. Haruka could have sworn she knew every single bakery in the village…

The moment she steps inside, the delicious scent of fresh bread and a hint of cinnamon sugar wafts around her tantalisingly, as if whispering in her ear encouragements to buy every single item in the store. Haruka has to hold her breath in order to ignore the temptation.

Compact, decorated with flowers and oozing a homely atmosphere, the bakery’s interior is, as the name says, just as welcoming as a field of sunflowers. Rustic floor panels creak beneath her feet as she glances around, noticing that both the floor and most of the furniture are constructed in pine-scented mahogany wood. Sprawled across the largest counter are all manner of delicacies, some coated in powdered sugar, others golden with butter, but the commonality was that all of them looked like they came fresh out of the oven. No patrons are filtering in and out of the bakery, and the only sign of life she can see is a burly looking man arranging loaves of bread. 

“Welcome,” he greets her upon noticing her arrival, “are you here to browse? This batch is very fresh.”

Haruka would love to, but this time she actually has a mission to complete. “I am actually looking for someone. Her name is Asuzawa Kohane, I believe?”

“Oh, yes! You must be one of my daughter’s friends,” the man grins, presumably Kohane’s father, in that case. Haruka doesn’t correct him - with all she knows about Kohane from An, they could practically be best friends already. “She’s in the other room, past that door. Have a good time, won’t you?”

Haruka wonders how this man can be so trusting of someone he just met, before she briefly recalls a conversation she had with An before. Apparently, Kohane is rather shy, and her father leaps at the chance for her to socialise with people, no matter who they are. It’s a wonder she hasn’t run into trouble by now. Haruka gives her thanks to Kohane’s father briefly, before making her way past him into the other room. 

This room is sparsely decorated, seemingly only serving as a break room of sorts between customers. Scents of honey and lavender linger strongly here, melding with the aroma of toasted bread to create a mouth-watering combinating. The scent seems to be emanating from the middle of the room, where atop a table a girl appears to be arranging various flowers into a vase, taking great care in deliberating how they should be placed.

“According to this, I have to put two sprigs of lavender here, so the shape is symmetrical… oh no, do I have enough white roses? They took so long to find, though…”

Slender lips quiver with concern as she pores over her arrangement one more time, sweat beading off her forehead as her intense concentration gets the better of her. Haruka finds herself listlessly observing her whilst she frets, flipping through page after page of a horticulturist’s journal and gnawing at her nails periodically. All she can think is that astonishingly enough, this girl really is exactly An’s type. Cute and short? Check. Meek yet passionate about her interests? Check. Knowledgeable? Also check. Someday, she’d better ask An if she’s attracted to anxious people, too.

“Oh, I could use some of those flowers too…” She mumbles, “What were they called again? I know the name started with an M. Mil… Mau.. Mari-”

“Marigolds?”

An ear-splitting scream erupts from Kohane’s mouth as she springs upwards, her hand accidentally knocking the vase. Lunging forward, Haruka scrambles for it, managing to catch it and most of the flowers just in time before it meets an unfortunate end. The force of doing so makes her topple forward, however, and she ends up tumbling flat onto her chest, the unharmed vase raised high in the air as her torso aches from the impact.

For a few moments, they freeze in place, both reeling from what just happened. 

“Um! Thank you, mysterious saviour! I am forever in your debt!” Still sprawled across the floor, Haruka has to crane her neck up to see Kohane haphazardly curtsying, although she didn’t quite know how to do it with the way her feet were angled so awkwardly. “It’s quite alright,” She assures her, but Kohane seems adamant to keep herself in a curtsy, even when her legs seemed like they were about to give out. Just to spare the girl another world of hurt, Haruka scrambles back to her feet and returns the vase back to where it once was. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” She extends her hand, “My name is Haruka Kiritani. An has told me all about you.”

“Really?! She has?!” With how hard Kohane is sweating, resplendent with pride, Haruka is scared that she might melt into a puddle before her eyes. “I’m very honoured! My name is Kohane Asuzawa, as you’ve probably heard!”

How puzzling. Kohane is acting a little too excitable for comfort, and Haruka’s not sure whether to suspect wrongdoing or not. Although, when she gives the girl another once-over, Kohane, frankly, doesn’t look like she could hurt a fly. Appearances are deceiving, however, Haruka should now.

Soon she realises Kohane is staring intently at her outstretched hand, not making an effort to grasp it at all. Perhaps it was because of her noble blood? “You can shake my hand,” Haruka encourages, and when Kohane does, her heels tap together giddily, and she murmurs under her breath as they shake hands, “Ahh, I’m meeting An’s best friend, this is so exciting…”

Oh. Haruka seems to be getting a lot of things wrong these days.

Releasing her hand, she decides that now it’s time to get straight to the heart of the problem. Or rather, the orange haired annoyance foisted upon her . “Actually, I came here not to talk about An, but to talk about Minori,” Haruka announces, “She says that you two are acquainted, and I’d like to ask you a few questions about her.”

“Of course! I’d be happy to do that! Anything you ask!” Ruefully, she laments, Is this really because she loves An that much? Sometimes I don’t understand lovebirds like them…

“Very well, then.” Struggling to ignore Kohane’s overt politeness, Haruka clears her throat and pieces together what she really wants to know. “I need to know more about who she is. What her weaknesses are. How skilled she is at magic. I need all the information you have, what with how mysterious and enigmatic she is.” Her hands ball into fists at her sides, clenched taut, all her senses focused on one goal, and one goal only - to finally turn that witch in.

Quiet lingers between them for far too long. When she returns to her senses, Kohane’s expression is befuddled, as if Haruka is the strangest beast in the world. 

“Mysterious… enigmatic…” Kohane’s brow furrows, “I don’t think those are the words I would use to describe her. If I had to describe Minori, I would say she’s more like… a dumb, oversized puppy.”

Dumb? Oversized? That sounds nothing like her…

“Ah!” She crumples like a damp sheet of paper as she cups her face in her hands, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to use the word dumb! I’m not trying to be rude, I simply… couldn’t think of any other word, that’s all.” Since Minori’s own friend was calling her dumb, was that actually true? Haruka finds it nigh impossible to believe, what with the magical prowess the witch has displayed both times that they have met. 

“If that’s true, then why has she always acted so… audacious?”

Kohane purses her lips, and as she bows her head in reverent thought Haruka ruminates on the fact that she actually does resemble a hamster when she’s concentrating. Perhaps An’s penchant for admiring cute girls was actually coming in handy.

“Oh, I think I know why!” As if the sun had just revealed itself, Kohane’s expression brightens with her realisation, “Minori acts that way towards people she wants to impress. She likes making herself seem a lot more confident than she actually is, but in reality, she just doesn’t want people’s first impressions of her to be her clumsiness.” The minute she utters those words, her hands fly to her cheeks, slapping them earnestly as she sweats up another storm, “Wait, I wasn’t supposed to start spilling her secrets! I’m a horrible friend!” Under her breath, she adds, “Come on, Kohane, stop falling for your weakness for handsome girls!”

Decidedly, Haruka doesn’t comment. A dejected sigh escapes her mouth - despite what she has just found out about Minori, this doesn’t give her that much ammunition to work with. “I suppose that means you don’t have many leads…”

Resembling, yet again, a hamster left out in the rain, Kohane examines her sympathetically. After a few moments, she metaphorically dries herself off and exclaims, “I could tell you about some of the incidents, maybe? Like, for example, when she turned her brother into a frog for a few days, or when she accidentally made all the breadsticks in the bakery grow legs and march through the village… oh, that was not fun to clean up…”

Haruka can’t resist the quiet laugh that bubbles from her lips. She’s starting to sound oddly cute.

Wait, cute?

“You seem pretty interested! Shall I tell you more?”

Cheeks aflame, Haruka swallows, intimately aware that this is a dangerous line she is toeing. Distantly, she thinks of her home. She thinks of her family, of the expectations they have of her, of what she should be doing in this situation. She should be exercising the utmost caution here. That is, until an image manifests in her mind, one of the elusive witch Minori being reduced to a flustered mess. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Haruka leans in closer, exclaiming, “Yes, please.”

…

Haruka expects to encounter Minori again the next day, but it ends up taking a few days for them to meet again.

During those few days, Haruka tries to withdraw herself from her thoughts. They’re deviating too far from the path she should be treading, after all. She throws herself wholeheartedly into her duties, taking on errand after errand on behalf of her parents, attending functions with a placated smile and getting engrossed into her lessons, yet still she traitorously laments on how she actually misses Minori’s company. Life isn’t quite as exciting anymore without someone like her to throw a wrench into her plans, and Haruka finds herself even missing the trouble Minori would stir up. 

That’s why when the witch turns up again, this time teetering on the railing of the balcony from Haruka’s bedroom, she doesn’t react with quite as much hostility as she did before.

Even though at the time she had been attempting to write a response letter to her betrothed, her latest attempt out of many for the day, Haruka had welcomed the distraction with open arms. Or, rather, she had heard the sound of a panicked flock of birds dispersing every which way, peered out to find what the commotion was, only to discover Minori chastising the birds, of all things, before changing her demeanour as soon as she noticed Haruka was watching. As it turns out, Kohane was right all along. Not that she doubted the girl, but seeing is still believing. 

“Good news!” Minori crows, “The potion worked this time! And it’s all thanks to you!”

“Really, now?” Bemused, Haruka pokes her head a little further out, “In that case, why don’t you stop scolding the birds and come inside?”

A flush spreads across Minori’s cheeks, all the way up to the tips of her ears. “Um! Yes, ma’am!” Haruka has to physically resist herself from giggling at the witch’s antics. Instead, she gestures for Minori to make her way inside. 

“Are you sure this is okay? I mean, it’s your room and all, and I’m totally not excited about going in, but-”

“Relax,” she cuts her off, “you’re going to cause a commotion if you stay out here.” 

Haruka doesn’t know how she noticed it, but she happened to catch the moment where Minori’s face somehow grew deeper in colour, before out of sheer willpower she returned to relative normalcy. Thankfully, Minori doesn’t put up much more of an argument, instead hurrying inside before anyone could spot her.

Despite the fact that she has never had the pleasure of entertaining guests in her room, Haruka always makes sure to keep her living space spotless, just in case. Most of the decorations and design choices aren’t her doing, but rather her parents. Haruka doesn’t particularly mind this, however, as long as she still has a place to store everything she needs, such as her extensive collection of books, and her collection of penguin paraphernalia. 

It’s a relief Haruka had stowed away her collection a few days ago, otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from Minori.

Sinking into the confines of her bed, Haruka doesn’t take nearly as much deliberation with her movements as she normally does. After all, she’s still in the comfort of her own room, and despite the fact that she had a guest, Haruka also has a secret weapon - her guest is, in Kohane’s words, merely a puppy. In comparison, Minori’s back is completely rigid when she seats herself on the edge of Haruka’s bed. She might be mistaken, but from her perspective, Minori appears to be ever so slightly trembling.

“Are you cold?” Haruka queries, making Minori shudder in surprise. “Of- of course not! I’m very warm! I don’t want an excuse to use your blankets at all!”

“What was that?” She raises an eyebrow, and curiously enough, the room goes dead silent, save for the incoherent noise she ekes out. Toying with Minori is more fun than Haruka initially thought. “Now, weren’t you telling me earlier about your potion?”

“Oh, right!” With an excuse to talk about anything else, her expression brightens as she swivels towards her. “I managed to gather all the ingredients for it, and it only cost me twenty gold coins, an enchanted stone, and some of my dignity! It worked wonders, by the way. The marigolds have been growing well again, and it’s all a result of our hard work.” 

Haruka side-eyes her curiously, “All I did was give you a sample of my hair.”

“That still counts as hard work,” Minori folds her arms in satisfaction, “It shows the power of our friendship! And the power of your hair.”

That’s certainly not a sentence Haruka expected to hear come out of anyone’s mouth. Nowadays, however, she finds a lot of her expectations are being overhauled.

“Speaking of friendship,” she starts, “I actually happened to meet that friend of yours who lives in the village.”

“You met Kohane?” Minori wonders incredulously, and it’s almost shocking as to how quickly her confident expression becomes one of mortification. “Wait, what did she say about me? Did she start telling you my embarrassing secrets? Oh, the horror…”

“You have those?” Haruka inquires, and Minori’s face goes sheet-white. “Ahaha… no, of course not! I meant to say deep dark witchy secrets! Yes, family secrets that should never be told to anyone.”

“Do those deep dark witchy secrets involve turning your brother into a frog, or accidentally reciting a spell to make all the breadsticks in Kohane’s bakery grow legs and walk away? Don’t worry, I’ve heard all about those.”

As if she swallowed a morsel of food the wrong way, Minori chokes on air, before collapsing entirely into the bed, howling into Haruka’s pillow, “Why does Kohane keep telling everyone how clumsy I am?!” 

“There, there,” she assures her, her gaze softening as she tries to fight off thoughts of how adorable Minori is like this. Haruka was expecting her demeanour to change, but not to this extent - compared to how she acted during their first meeting, it was like she was facing a completely different person now. Endearingly, she lays her hand on the girl’s shoulder, uttering words of reassurance, “I am sure you aren’t the worst witch in the world. When we first met, I thought you were very well-versed in magic.”

“Really?” Minori whimpers, lifting her face from the pillow, and she hates how much she wants to brush those tears away. “Really,” Haruka affirms, and despite being stained with the first vestiges of tears, her cheeks still glow delightfully. As Minori props herself upright again, rubbing blearily at her eyes, she decides to take this opportunity to inquire more about witch culture. After all, Minori seems to have an encyclopaedic knowledge on Haruka’s upbringing, so why can’t she do the same? 

“My tutor has said that witches have familiars, but you don’t seem to have one. Why is that?” Haruka points out. Minori fluffs out her hair haphazardly in response, leaning against the bedpost, “I have one, I just don’t bring him out past witch territory. His name is Samo-chan.”

“Samo-chan.” Haruka echoes plaintively, as if it’s a foreign language. Even though she’s far from well-versed in witch culture, she wasn’t exactly expecting Minori’s familiar to have such an endearing name. Perhaps it was short for something, or simply a codename for a more ferocious beast? “And I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what exotic magical creature you’ve secured as a familiar-“

“He’s a dog.”

“A... dog?” She tilts her head to the side, “Does he talk, or have some sort of magical ability, or-“

Minori shakes her head, “Nope, just a normal dog. But he’s my baby. My sweet summer child.”

Huh. You learn something new every day. Perhaps familiars were just a witch’s term for owning pets? Like before, Haruka is starting to realise that whilst some aspects of witch life are magical, other aspects didn’t actually need to be. “And this dog helps you perform magic?”

“Ahaha…” Minori dithers, “He tries his best, but he always ends up knocking over things, or messing up my ingredients. I guess it’s just my luck…”

Strange. Those final words make her tense up, and Haruka witnesses an expression of Minori’s that she’s never seen before - a sombre one, as if a veil of darkness had been draped across her face. It doesn’t last for long, but she still feels her heart tug at the sight of it. 

“Is something wrong?” Haruka murmurs, letting her respond in her own time. Minori sighs, swallowing thickly. An eternity passes before she speaks again, but when she does, Haruka’s heart only churns more. 

“About the luck thing… I was cursed,” Minori’s dismal expression now matches the gravitas of the situation, despite trying to keep her composure, “You know what asphodels are associated with, right? Death. It’s kind of like I’m being followed by this… great big shadow of death, and it just won’t go away. I’ve tried and tried, but I think it must be some sort of curse of bad luck, and I’m stuck with it for life. Oh, well, depending on how long I live, hehe. With curses like these, you never know…”

Haruka purses her lips - maybe being a witch isn’t quite as exciting as she thought. She can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel to be in Minori’s shoes, constantly living with a shadow of death looming over her, knowing very well that she could succumb to her curse at any moment. Now she’s beginning to understand why Minori has been so carefree all this time - perhaps she didn’t think she would live long enough to do any of these things later on in life. 

The thought of losing Minori someday… It strains Haruka’s heartstrings until they’re close to snapping. 

“I know it looks bleak,” She starts when she notices how hesitant Haruka looks, “but one good thing does come out of all of this. Because I have this title, I specialise in reincarnation magic. Basically, I’ve been able to do some experimenting, and I managed to set up this little… it acts more like a curse, but I don’t want to call it that. Let’s say it’s an anti-curse.”

“A blessing?” Haruka offers instead, but to her surprise the witch shakes her head, “Not a blessing either. Besides, anti-curse sounds cooler.” Whilst Haruka wanted to argue with that logic, Minori has just told her something serious, so she’s not about to argue with her so soon. The aforementioned girl clears her throat, then returns to her train of thought.

“Anyways, as I was saying, I figured out how to set up this anti-curse. When I die, the anti-curse should take effect and reincarnate my soul into a new body. Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Haruka’s not sure if she would call it that, considering it would have to be the product of Minori’s death. However, Minori’s eyes are sparkling in expectation, so she doesn’t want to let her down, instead humming, “Mm. You could say that.”

“Only one issue, though,” Minori twirls a strand of ocherous hair around her finger, “I’ll wake up somewhere completely random, and I won’t remember anything from my past life. That kind of defeats the purpose of reincarnation, but hey! It’s a start!” 

Minori’s right, Haruka thinks, that does somewhat defeat the purpose of reincarnating in the first place. If your soul was able to transfer itself into a new body, but you didn’t retain any of your previous memories, what even was the point of reincarnating in the first place? There aren’t any benefits she can see to undertaking such a task, but perhaps the benefit lay in building upon the existing magic. Since she isn’t a witch, Haruka wouldn’t know. 

“Anyways, I’ve talked a lot about myself.” Haruka finds herself oddly entranced by the idle pop of Minori’s lips, even more so by the way her tongue swipes across its surface, “Do I get to hear your life story too?”

“...what is there to say?” she wonders, “I am not sure if my life will interest you. I don’t get up to anything quite as adventurous as you do. I’m just-”

“One of the most eligible bachelors around? Hehe, it feels weird to say that now…” Minori pouts, “I’m sure you have an interesting story to tell me! Come on, just one wouldn’t hurt.”

Haruka racks her brain for something she could divulge. Compared to what Minori has been telling her, her memories don’t seem quite as entertaining, but she figures she can tell her about a childhood memory that stands out - years ago, when Haruka and An were still children, and they tried to catch a golden deer whilst on an excursion by the riverside. 

“Alright, then. I’ll tell you about something that happened a long time ago…”

…

Haruka is beginning to dread the prospect of marriage.

It’s not her betrothed’s fault, of course. No, he’s a perfectly respectable gentleman, and he would surely make a good husband in the future. There are worse men she could have the displeasure of marrying, and even though she doesn’t even properly know him, she has faith in the fact that this wouldn’t be the most disastrous union to be brought about. 

No, Rui isn’t the reason why she’s dreading her future marriage. It’s something else entirely. 

Haruka doesn’t want to acknowledge her worries, however. Especially not today, when her carriage is fast approaching the Kamishiro estate, where Rui has arranged for her visit. With everything going on in her life, she nearly forgot about the invitation entirely. Thankfully, her parents had the tact to remind her about it the day prior, so at least this wasn’t happening completely out of the blue. At least someone was there to keep her in line these days.

When her carriage grinds to a halt, and the door is graciously opened for her, Haruka tentatively traipses into the light, immediately marvelling at how things were done differently in the Kamishiro estate as compared to her own. As compared to her own home, where absolutely nothing is allowed to be out of place, the Kamishiro estate is a bit more lax with their upkeep. Ivy blossoms up the trellises she sees, cohabitating haphazardly with whatever they had been cultivating there originally. In fact, the entire estate holds a rustic, less refined look to it, one that Haruka finds herself actually appreciating. There’s no obligation to fix flaws immediately as they appear, no grandiose aspirations or nigh unrealistic expectations to be adhering to. Instead, it seems, the family works around those imperfections in order to weave them into a perfect ideal. It’s certainly an unconventional way of life for any noble family, but Haruka is starting to think that unconventional is in fact their end goal.

Attendants lead her graciously towards the estate, the journey taking her past blooming hedges and… some strange contraptions littering the yard. Rui’s letters had said he was somewhat of an inventor, but Haruka can’t make heads or tails of what some of these devices are even for. One of them could have been a spade, judging by it’s curved shape, then why did it boast levers protruding from either side? A shiver courses through her spine - maybe she shouldn’t ask questions as to what they’re for. She never knows, they could simply be some very intricate torture devices. 

Haruka is eventually led into the waiting hall, and an attendant announces to her that Rui will be seeing her shortly, before departing and leaving her to her own devices. Even the hall seems to be full of his odd inventions, and judging by some of the scrapes and tarnishes the walls have sustained, some of them have perhaps gone a little awry. It’s quite obvious which ones could do the most damage, judging by some of the more avaricious-looking inventions. One of the contraptions, however, soon catches her eye - a large, hulking device suspended on the wall composed entirely out of metal. The main area of the device is a raised, circular surface, with numbers etched around its hull at equidistant points. From a central point, two arrows protrude forth, one longer, one smaller. How odd. As she pores over the device, Haruka ponders over what its purpose is - it must be something to do with numbers, but what exactly?

“Oh, are you interested in that one? I call it a clock.”

An unseemly yelp emanates from her mouth, taken completely aback by the intrusion. For a moment, terror washes over her, thinking that she’s investigated too far into Rui’s collection, but she lets out a breath when she realises Rui doesn’t look angry, instead approaching her with a hint of interest. “This device allows you to know the time, down to the exact minute. The longer hand points to the minute, whilst the shorter hand points to the hour. If you’ll direct your attention back here,” he gestures to his invention, “you’ll see that the shorter hand is pointing to the number one, whilst the longer hand is pointing to the four. That means it’s 1:20 in the afternoon.”

Haruka blinks, astonished. “How clever,” she comments, and Rui hums in assent, “Thank you. It was a real challenge to put together.” He hesitates for a moment, then fully turns to her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, my lady. I’m at your service.”

When she shakes his outstretched hand, she can’t help but notice how he averts his gaze. Perhaps Rui is a shy sort of person, although from what she’s seen, that doesn’t seem very likely. For now, Haruka thinks nothing of it.

“Our guests are already here. Shall we go and meet them?” Rui offers, and when Haruka nods, he takes the initiative and guides her out of the hallway, into a spacious drawing room.

The hallway may have interested her, but the drawing room is rife with curiosities unlike anything she has ever seen. Not only does Rui himself have a penchant for the absurd, his parents share the same sentiment - their collections of oddities, whether imported or conquested, dazzle her on full display. Haruka doesn’t know where to look first - to the right, where a puzzling statue labelled only as Nenerobo looms imposingly, to the left, where a tapestry of a blue haired, twin-tailed goddess is hung over the fireplace, and, to her delight, a painting right in front of her, depicting an artist’s rendition of penguins playing in the snow.

Serves everyone right! I knew penguins were real!

What her eyes end up being drawn to, however, are the people already in the room. Propped up by the windowsill, a girl with luscious ink-black hair fiddles with the strings of her lute, making discordant noises every so often. Right beside her stood a cheery looking girl with unusually vibrant hair, toting a thick storybook in her hands. Meanwhile, slumped into an armchair sat a boy who resembled her, and all three were chattering away without a care in the world.

“...Come on, brother, agree with me! It’s a horse with a horn, therefore it’s called a horn horse.”

“Of course, from now on I shall refer to it as a horn horse! How genius of you, Saki!”

“It’s a unicorn… you’re only agreeing with her because she’s your sister.”

“That is true! Wait, no, I didn’t mean to- That’s not true! Let me defend Saki’s honour!”

“Ahem,” Rui clears his throat, and the room falls into momentary silence. That silence is quickly shattered, however, when one of the girls, who she believes to be Saki, exclaims, “Rui, pick one. Unicorn or horn horse? Choose wisely…”

“Unicorn is the correct term. My apologies, Saki.”

Saki lets out a wail, draping her hand over her head in mock-offence, “You traitor! You’ve betrayed the purity of the horn horse!” Haruka dithers, having absolutely no clue what they were arguing about, before shirking when Saki points towards her instead. “Looks like you’re the tiebreaker. Haruka, is that your name? Unicorn or horn horse?”

Unfortunately, she finds that she can’t focus on the conversation at hand - she’s too busy pretending not to notice the eerily direct stare that boy is giving her, a little too prying for comfort. After a bit of deliberation, Haruka responds, “...how about neither?”

“So it ends in a draw,” the girl toting the instrument announces, “next time, however, you’ll have to face the truth. Horn horses aren’t valid.” Like an iceberg, Saki melts with the weight of those words, and the girl’s demeanour shifts, “Sorry for roping you into our antics. You must be from the Kiritani family. I’m Ichika, and I’m a travelling musician alongside Saki over here. She’s a proficient storyteller, and together we entertain the masses.”

“That’s me!” Saki beams, before glancing at the boy, “Oh, and this is Tsukasa. He’s a stable boy here. And he’s the best brother in the whole entire world!” Tsukasa’s chest puffs out in pride to hear those words, and Haruka can’t miss the sight of Rui smiling beside her, a smile more genuine than she has ever seen on someone like him. “You don’t mind if he stays here, do you?” Rui side-eyes her. Sensing that it would be in her best interests to allow it, Haruka nods, “Of course I don’t.”

If she’s going to be honest, however, he is starting to make her feel uncomfortable - not because of his presence here, but because of the looks he shoots her whenever he thinks she’s not looking, the way his brow furrows in disappointment whenever she inches too close to Rui. Maybe, just maybe, Tsukasa was just overprotective of those he served. It’s a phenomenon she’s heard of before, and it would make sense, judging by how he takes pride in caring for his sister. Haruka’s not entirely sure if that’s the case, though. 

“Okay, now that everyone’s here,” Saki moves on with great tenacity, “we can finally show you our latest performance. This one’s still a bit of a work in progress…” she glares at Ichika playfully, who merely shrugs, shooting her a mysterious smirk in return, “but we hope you will enjoy it regardless! Take a seat, and let us regale you…”

Rui strides over and slots himself beside Tsukasa, on the sprawling lounge sofa. Accordingly, Haruka makes her way to sit next to him. Out of sheer comfort, she decides to leave ample space between them. 

Ichika and Saki stage themselves a good distance in front of their audience, Ichika retrieving one of the stools at the corner of the room to sit on whilst she props up her instrument on her knee, and Saki flicking earnestly through her storybook, scanning the pages with an unparalleled intent before her preparations are complete and she slams the book shut, before setting it down somewhere safe. “Ready, Icchan?” She chirps, and Ichika’s only response is a thumbs up. With that settled, Saki clears her throat and prepares to weave together her tale. 

“This is a story of two lovers, forbidden to be together, but by the power of destiny their hearts have been united as one…”

“Saki, I thought we were trying to work on your subtlety…”

“But you’re the one who-! Alright, alright, shall I start over, Icchan?”

“Very well. Start right from the beginning this time…”

Saki turns around, taking a few deep breaths in order to prepare herself for what’s to come, and once she turns back around again, she’s regained all the conviction of a storyteller. “Our story begins with a prince, from a kingdom far, far away…”

The prince was valiant, noble, and most importantly, he was one of the most intelligent people in the land. He was well respected throughout the kingdom, and everywhere he went, he would endeavour to solve as many people’s problems as possible. As he grew older, he only became more and more popular with the people, and soon he reached the age where his parents, the king and queen, were ready to find him a proper bride.

They scoured the land, far and wide, in order to find only the most suitable noblewoman to be his wife. Soon, they had found their match - they sought out a princess from a faraway kingdom, and the two were engaged shortly afterwards.

However, the prince was perfect on the outside, but deep down he harboured a shocking secret - he had already found his one true love. And, even more shockingly, the object of his affections was a servant boy who worked at the castle.

As Ichika begins to work at her instrument, strumming a soft song that could lull anyone into a dream with how soothing it was, Haruka can’t help but notice that out of the corner of her eye, Rui and Tsukasa’s hands are now overlapping. Figuring that it’s probably just a figment of her imagination, Haruka ignores it and brings her attention back to the story.

This particular servant was special - he was the kindest, most loving boy that anyone had ever seen. He was also very well-liked amongst his coworkers, but the king and queen, sadly, didn’t seem to agree. The boy also happened to have a very talented sister, and they loved each other very much. 

“Okay, maybe that part’s a little irrelevant,” Saki grins, momentarily breaking character, “but I just wanted to add it in.”

The prince had fallen in love with this boy for a number of reasons, but mainly because of his heart of gold - because of this, the prince would call the boy his star. They had been secretly meeting in private for months before the prince’s engagement, and every day they fell deeper and deeper in love. Still, the prince had always suspected that he would never be allowed to marry for love. His kingdom needed an heir of noble blood, and sadly there was no chance that their relationship would ever be accepted.

When the prince found out about his engagement, he mourned and mourned in private, but sadly nothing he could do would change the fact that he was destined to marry the princess. The next time they met, he had to break the fateful news. This time, he couldn’t be selfish, and he would have to leave his star behind forever.

Out of the kindness of his heart, the servant boy accepted this news. He agreed that their relationship couldn’t continue, but assured him that deep down, he would always love and miss the prince. That night, they shared a fateful final kiss, and the two lovers stopped meeting with each other until the day of the wedding.

Everything had been set up perfectly that day - the crowds loved both the prince and princess, and they were excited to be able to see such a blissful royal wedding. From an outsider’s perspective, they looked like the most perfect couple in the world. But in reality, the prince was terrified. Today would be the last day before he was married, to someone he didn’t truly love.

The servant boy had attended too, hiding in the back of the procession. He wanted to see his love, one last time, before they would be separated forever. As the bride made her way to the altar, everything went off without a hitch. Silently, the servant boy cried, his tears as beautiful as the stars themselves.

Soon, it was time to complete the ceremony. The officiator asked the couple whether they had any objections, and suddenly-

“I object,” the prince announced.

Gasps and exclamations of horror rang out across the cathedral. Nobody was expecting the prince to stand up for himself, but his love was strong enough to overcome all odds. The prince stepped down from the altar, and to everyone’s surprise, he approached the servant boy earnestly.

“I don’t love the princess,” he proclaimed, “I love you, Tsu-”

“Ahem. You mean, ‘my star.’”

“Icchan!” Saki cries, “You’re interrupting! The immersion is ruined!”

“I had to,” Ichika retorts, the music halting abruptly, “You were about to break the immersion of the story anyways.”

As their conversation devolves into a friendly argument, Haruka casts another glance towards her left, from Rui, to Tsukasa, then back to Rui again. Things are beginning to make a lot more sense now. The odd looks Tsukasa was giving her, the way their hands are laced together, even the story itself was all just one big targeted message, wasn’t it? They didn’t need to be so obvious about it, in her opinion. She gets the gist of what’s happening.

Weeks ago, Haruka would have felt betrayed, even heartbroken at the revelation that her betrothed wasn’t ever going to have feelings for her. Now, however, she finds that she doesn’t mind it - not only that, it’s a good thing. 

A good thing? Why on earth would she think that?

Her stomach sinks, in both a delightful and dreadful manner. Haruka didn’t want to have these revelations today. She would have preferred to experience them in the comfort of her own home, but fate is a cruel mistress, and despite fate granting her this one kindness, it also comes as a curse in disguise. 

Haruka is relieved to finally have something in common with Rui. They are both shackled by societal expectations, they both harbour no faith in their marriage, and…

We both have secret feelings to hide.

Haruka searches for her in the deepest vestiges of her mind. She quickly finds her smile, finds her personality, finds a kindred spirit which sympathises with her plight, without asking for anything in return. 

She’s not quite sure what she feels for Minori yet. All she knows is that it’s more than what she ever bargained for.  

Maybe this story holds some truth, in more ways than one. 

…

After she returns home, Haruka makes provisions to do the one thing she knows always clears her head - sparring.

On the battlefield, there’s no time to complicate things or let your mind wander. There’s only ever room for the most precise strategy, and that’s why Haruka revels in the act of sword fighting. When she’s embroiled in conflict with her opponent, who she is doesn’t matter - all that matters is the heat of the moment. Now more than ever, Haruka wishes she could live like that - disregarding the past, embracing the present and yearning for the future - but sadly all fights are transient, and all she can do is enjoy it while it lasts. 

The next day, she decides to arrange a sparring match with her favourite comrade in arms, An. It’s a wonder that An can even make it, what with her schedule being so packed, so Haruka is grateful for An being her best friend, willing to drop her plans in order for them to spend time together.

When they came to her family’s training ground more regularly as children, they were completely different people to who they are now. Haruka was nothing more than a child constantly hungry for knowledge, and likewise An was a bright eyed girl with dreams of following in her father’s footsteps. Now, Haruka can’t help but admire An as she struts onto the battlefield now, brandishing a sword branded with the seal of the royal guard on its hilt. An became a prodigy, and went on to achieve her dreams of becoming a knight at a remarkably young age - it came at the cost of precious time they could have spent together, but knowing An was getting to experience what she has always dreamed of is more valuable to her than the time they could have spent together. Besides, this makes An a more formidable adversary.

An’s blade staggers behind her, dragging a shallow line through the sand beneath their feet before she steadies herself in concentration. “Are you ready?” She asks, and Haruka nods whilst gripping her own sword staunchly, “Of course I am.” 

“Perfect. You’d better get ready to lose, Haruka.”

“Not if you lose first.”

An flashes her a wink, then begins to count down, “Three, two, one, go!”

Not a second passes before their blades clash, and Haruka is intimately aware of how much she misses this. The thrill of her movements, the rush of exhilaration after gaining the upper hand, the dull clang of steep against steel, she feeds off all of it, and in turn it only makes her want to fight harder and harder. Whenever An would get a little too ambitious, Haruka’s defensive parries were always there to keep her in line, and whenever Haruka would reach for a deceptively easy opportunity, An would make sure she faced full repercussions for taking the bait. Plumes of dust bloomed at their feet as they raced across the sand, endlessly trying to best each other, almost as if they were locked in a deadly dance. 

If Minori was here, she would love watching this.

Minori…

Between blows, Haruka’s expression softens. To this moment, she still hasn’t discerned what exactly she feels for Minori. There’s endearment, definitely, what with how cute she can be sometimes. Somehow, Haruka is beginning to feel that there’s more to it than that. Like there’s a deeper connection beneath the surface just waiting to be fostered. Her ears are beginning to ring from the clamour of their swords struggling against each other.

She knows she’s not supposed to think so deeply while in the midst of battle, but Haruka can’t help it, with such a pressing matter on her hands. After all, if these really were deeper feelings she possessed, there were a host of issues along with it, not to mention the most glaring one being the fact that her parents would shun her if they found out…

Haruka winces when she thinks of her parents, and the legacy she has sworn to uphold for so long. It was difficult to even begin to conceptualise all the possible ways that Haruka could go about this wrong. What would she do if her family found out she was harbouring the witch they wanted to kill? What would she do if Minori was at the other end of her sword?

She can envision it between the calculated strikes of An’s blade. Minori, knelt and defenceless at her feet, with the avaricious steel of Haruka’s weapon flush against her neck. While onlookers, especially her family, would be spurring her on to finally slay the witch, Minori would be pleading for her life, hoping that after all the time they had spent together, Haruka would have mercy on her just this once. Blood pounds in her ears, and she can acutely feel her hands quivering around the sword’s handle. If it ever came down to this, what would she choose? Would she even have a choice in the first place?

Haruka focuses harder, tries to visualise what it would feel like to finish the job.

She can’t. Despite her better judgement, and the teachings of her entire life sprawled out before her, Haruka just can’t bring herself to do it. 

The clash of metal against metal is barely audible in her mind, clouded by a fog of guilt taking root in her mind. A proper heiress would have immediately taken to repenting for her sins, but Haruka’s thoughts are lurid, festering with forbidden love, and they obscure her better judgement like curling ivy leaves sprawled across a trellis. Whereas usually in battle she was fluid, tactful in her movements as if embroiled in a dance, now she is a statue of marble - rigid, unflinching, and tangled wholeheartedly in the delusions racing through her mind. She tries to fight her brain, tries to replace the image of Minori at her mercy with what’s happening right now, but every time she even attempts to parry An’s strikes, she can’t help but imagine a completely different scene.

An lunges again, brandishing her sword with an unusual fervour, but this time Haruka’s hands just won’t move - they’re trembling again, just like they always do whenever she confronts her inevitable future, and the hilt of her blade juts outward in a position that makes it easy for An to overpower her. In the split second before their swords make contact, she can just make out the hints of dissatisfaction in An’s crass expression, before the force of her sword topples Haruka to the ground in plumes of ochre dust. 

An gives her a moment to wallow in her defeat, but she’s not as triumphant as she usually is when she wins a duel. There’s no fanfare, no whoops and screams of delight, no playful mockery or vows to take vengeance in their next sparring match. Instead, An stares her down like she’s a piece of refuse left forlorn in the village square, or better yet a criminal being caught in the act. 

“You’re distracted,” An points out, as if it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world, “Why is that?”

Haruka huffs, kicking her sword to the side haphazardly. As it skitters a bit further off, she slaps her hands over her face and groans into them. “An...” Haruka mutters, barely audible, “What am I going to do...”

With all the grace of someone who has become long accustomed to Haruka’s despairing outbursts by now, An trots over and slumps into the sand next to her, setting her sword down at her side. “Go on, tell me what’s wrong,” she encourages, and Haruka would have stopped to marvel at how easily An could read her emotions if her mind wasn’t wandering elsewhere.

“See, there’s this girl,” she begins, “Her name is Hanasato Minori. She’s the witch I mentioned once, the one who snuck into our orchard just to steal apples.”

“What, is a witch giving you a hard time?” An grins, “How about I track her down? You know me, I’m the best knight there is. I’ll catch her before you can-“

“No, I...” she shakes her head, “This is different. I get it. She’s a scoundrel, a mysterious scoundrel, and a thief, to be exact. But, at the same time...” traitorously, her eyes drift to the side, softening with a dreamy expression unlike anything before, “She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”

Silence simmers between them. When Haruka glances back at An again, she’s sporting the most deadpan expression one could muster. 

“You can’t be serious,” An exclaims, her voice heightening in pitch, “You’re telling me that I’ve spent years trying to figure out your type, or if you’re even attracted to anyone at all, and now you’re telling me that you’re into criminals? Seriously, Haruka, that’s a new low, even for you.”

“You’re certainly one to talk,” she grumbles, folding her arms, “Remember that one knight, Mizuki, that you harboured affection for? And how they were secretly an anti-monarchist spy?”

“Don’t remind me…” By the way An balls her hands into fists, Haruka can tell that she’s staunchly resisting the urge to toss sand into her eyes, “Besides, that’s different. Nobody knew Mizuki was a spy. You, however, are getting yourself headfirst into trouble. You do know that your parents are going to freak out if they find out about this, right? It’s one thing to secretly be in love with someone, and it’s another for that someone to be the criminal your parents are trying to catch.” 

Crestfallen, Haruka massages her temples, “You think I’m not aware of all that? Rest assured, I have tried and tried to stop myself, but I never succeed, and I just-” she lets a breath escape her, just to calm herself down, and continues in a more tranquil tone, “This has to be kept secret between us, but she meets me frequently. Every time she does, I find myself wishing she could stay forever. For she makes me feel such wondrous feelings…” 

Giving in to her impulses, Haruka lets herself fall backward, until she’s lying supine in the sand, completely disregarding how unbecoming it is of a noblewoman like her to be tarnishing her hair like this. An peers over her, a watchdog poring over its lovesick owner, commenting, “Never thought you would be a hopeless romantic.”

“I wasn’t before,” Haruka admits, “but, like you always say, life is full of surprises.” 

An rolls her eyes, biting back the admission that yes, she does say that quite often. Instead, she prolongs the silence between them, seemingly in a show of disappointment, before a thought spurs her on. 

“By the way, aren’t you forgetting your betrothal to the Kamishiro heir?” An tips her head curiously to the side, “Your marriage will be bound and sealed sooner or later, after all. Forget her for the time being, and soon your heart will belong to him instead.”

“But I...” Haruka seethes, “I long for her. Too often, in fact. I long for her, and yet I cannot have her - to covet her love would spell certain doom for the both of us.” In response, An lets out a laugh, “Oh, Haruka, you know you can’t have a witch, right? No, the relationship must be of equal standing - she was not raised to know the concept of ownership, after all. That’s what makes her so dangerous.”

“What is so dangerous about wanting equality?” Haruka wonders, before realising that perhaps she shouldn’t analyse that question too deeply, else she might end up questioning more of her beliefs. Questions aren’t something she needs more of at this point. She needs answers, and fast.

An sighs, glancing away languidly, “That’s not a question I can answer. I’m a knight, not a philosopher. All I can say is that if you’re going to have an equal relationship with her, that just gives her agency to play with your heart. I wouldn’t want you to throw away a stable marriage offer just to be left heartbroken.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Haruka retorts, and that seems to lull An into silence. Judging by the way her mouth opens and closes, it’s clear that she wants to argue against that, but can’t find the right words to do so. Eventually, An gives up. She swallows sardonically, then changes the topic. 

“Look, if I’m going to be honest, I don’t approve. And you can definitely tell that. But…” An’s expression of disappointment softens into a smile, “Rarely, if ever, have I seen you speak so passionately about someone. I don’t think I’ll be able to change your mind so easily. And, besides that… I want my best friend to be happy, you know?”

At the sound of being called An’s best friend, Haruka’s face glows brighter, and it isn’t from the sunlight beating down onto the training ground. Sure, An has considered Haruka as her best friend for longer than she can even remember now, but it still makes her giddy to hear it being said out loud. An’s support, no matter how half-hearted it is, means the world to her. It reinforces her deep-seated faith that maybe following her heart isn’t such a disastrous idea. 

“Thank you, An,” a serene smile plays upon Haruka’s features, “even though we both know this isn’t my brightest idea, I’m grateful for your support regardless.”

“‘Isn’t your brightest idea’ is an understatement…” An mutters, before smirking mirthfully, “But you know what? It’s the most adventurous idea of yours I’ve ever heard. So if a secret relationship is what you’re going to pursue, I’ll help make sure it stays a secret.”

Has Haruka even considered taking their relationship a step further? Clearly not, judging by her brow creasing in thought, but soon she finds it’s a concept she’s certainly open to. Before, when she knew nothing about the joys of personal rebellion, she would have detested the very thought of going against her parents like this, but lately with all the excitement in her life Haruka figures that it’s time for a change of pace. 

“I suppose I’ll have to think more about what I want to do… but I’m glad that I have you here to listen to me.”

“No problem. That’s what friends are for.” Rambunctiously, An slaps a sand-stained hand onto Haruka’s back, “By the way, when you marry her in the future, you had better make me your maid of honour.”

“ An! You mustn’t think that far ahead! ”

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to stop me? Miss star-crossed lover over here?”

“Why, you-”

That sparring session soon devolved into a dust-bathed wrestling match. The victor, ultimately, was neither of them - both were given a stern lecture about the importance of cleanliness afterward.

…

“Do you want to know a secret?” 

She’s starting to think that not only her stars have crossed, but her synapses too. Haruka found Minori in a different area today - sprawled across the ledge of an outdoor fountain like a cat lounging in the sun, half-asleep. The lip of the marble conch shell from which water trickled from was a steep basin, so from where Minori was trying to sleep, she was going to be doused in far too much water for comfort. Haruka had offered to volunteer herself as a shield from the deluge, and the result? Now Minori’s head was cradled in Haruka’s lap as she sleepily spilled forth words from her heart.

“What is it?” Haruka murmurs, not wanting to break the trance, and her heart twinges when Minori’s words come out breathier, heavy with the dredges of drowsiness.

“I’ve actually admired you for a long time.”

She wonders, distantly, what she’s done to be worthy of Minori’s admiration. A giggle bursts forth from her mouth, probably the result of staring at Haruka’s pensive expression for too long, and like a weaver Minori binds together the threads of her story. 

“When I was younger, I heard about this sword fighting competition, and I decided I had to go there, no matter what. The tickets were super expensive, but I managed to sneak in when nobody was looking. Turns out, the competition was super boring… that is, until I saw you.”

Unsurprisingly, Haruka isn’t sure exactly which competition she’s referring to. In her lifetime, she’s fought countless duels, and it almost hurts that the one Minori attended was so unmemorable to her. If Haruka had just scanned the crowd a little harder, just taken notice of her surroundings a little more, would she have remembered Minori then? 

“You were…” Minori whispers, yawning between breaths, “really beautiful then. The moment I saw you, it was like I had been put under a spell. The rumours about how amazing you were, they were all true, and they’re still true now. Hehe, now I’m making a fool out of myself…”

Another yawn escapes her mouth, leaving her bereft. Oh, how Haruka’s heart leaps at the simple act of brushing strands of hair from Minori’s face. 

“I had to leave before sunset, but I never forgot that day, and I never forgot about you, either. That’s why… I like having the chance to know you up close like this.”

I like it too, Haruka wants to whisper. She would have, if her nerves hadn’t tied her tongue together. As Minori melts into her lap, her eyelashes fluttering as she shuffles into a better position, she recalls something else she needs to tell her.

“My family’s hosting guests tonight. I have a feeling it won’t be the most enjoyable event in the world,” Haruka hugs Minori’s head a little closer, “Can you pay me another visit then?”

“Tonight?” Minori half-mumbles, and Haruka echoes, “Yes, tonight.”

“...I’ll be there. I promise.”

Unceremoniously, Minori drifts to sleep, nestled in the confines of Haruka’s lap. 

…

Daylight melts into the blazing glory of a watercolour sunset, but the transition from sunset to night is nothing short of immediate.

For once, Haruka is grateful about there being less hours in the day. Now she actually has a reason to be busying herself in preparation for receiving guests, despite that reason not being proper. Maybe it was time to divorce herself from the word proper. Things have gone too far for there to be a sense of properness anymore. 

Glistening pearls nestle into the divot of her collarbones, nearly coming loose as she fiddles with the necklace’s flimsy clasp. Normally, Haruka would allow her mother and her attendants to pick out a suitable outfit, but she insisted on being the judge this time, yearning for more control in her life. Since she was supposed to be attending another typical function that her parents were holding, she hasn’t picked out anything special, just a dark dress which blended perfectly into the night, accentuated by ribbons that twisted like arms of a milky galaxy. The pearls around her neck and studded in her ears are simply stray stars, illuminating the pathway of her skin. Just simple enough to be suitable for this event, and just eye-catching enough that Minori would be impressed by it. 

“How do I look?” Haruka does a once-over of herself in the mirror, knowing full well that nobody else was in this room to answer her. Therefore, she decides to answer herself, beaming at her own reflection, “Perfect.”

With the affluence of her family name, it doesn’t take long for their ballroom to become bustling, abuzz with chatter as if it were the most expensive beehive in the land. Haruka tries not to turn heads with her presence, but it seems some sort of natural aura of hers is preventing that - of course the Kiritani heiress whose engagement was recently announced is going to be the talk of the party. Unfortunate, she thinks to herself, it will be hard to find an opening to slip away now.

To her surprise, it ends up being easier than she thinks. Once the musicians have finished their setup, wielding glossy, lacquered instruments, the first few sonorous notes of the piano lead the band into a riveting melody. From her position overshadowed by the incline of the wall as it juts upward, Haruka still wonders how people are able to slip into position for a dance so seamlessly. It’s an art she still needs to master, it seems.

For a few songs, Haruka flits aimlessly through the crowd, dancing with whoever approached her so as not to arouse suspicion. Soon, however, she begins growing tired of the charade. Her attention is engrossed by the sight of the balcony to her right, completely devoid of any life, even whilst attempting to keep herself in time with the music. When Haruka has finally had enough, she approaches her mother in order to excuse herself for some fresh air, and thankfully her request is granted.

Frost dances across her skin as she ambles onto the balcony. The night is unforgiving, and whisper-quiet - the sound of herself shivering is perhaps the loudest thing to disturb the peace, besides the cacophony from within the ballroom. Out here, where the moon looms like a benevolent spirit, there is nothing to disturb her thoughts except the wisps of her breath disintegrating into thin air.

At first, the balcony appears empty. But Haruka knows better than that by now.

In a technicolour swathe of unfurling light, a familiar figure manifests, sitting on the balcony’s railing and kicking her heels to the rhythm of distant music. Haruka has seen her in many different lights by now, but tonight, it feels more special. Tonight, Minori is illuminated by moonlight, a ring of silver surrounding her as if she were completely ethereal. With every slight movement of hers, every shift of her smile and twitch of her fingers, Haruka finds herself wanting like never before.

“You look…” she burns proudly as Minori’s eyes wander over her, “...really pretty.”

“I could say the same to you,” Haruka murmurs, and it’s true. It’s utterly, wholeheartedly true.

“What’s the occasion?” She wonders, gaze flickering towards the mirthful revelry Haruka has just emerged from. Her response is merely a shrug and the simple verity of, “There’s no occasion. These things just happen sometimes.”

“A party just for the sake of it, huh?” Minori’s fingers trace the edge of the bannister, her brow furrowing, “That sounds boring.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that,” Haruka refutes, and Minori responds, “Then why are you here instead of in there?”

Because I wanted to see you, she wants to say, but the liquor of her words chokes her, tastes of salt and sacrilegious sand, so she dashes the thought. Instead, Haruka has a better idea of what to say. 

“It’s because...” her stare grows more intense, “Of everyone I have seen tonight, you are the most beautiful of them all.”

Minori sucks in a breath, and her eyes trace the sudden stagger of her chest. From within the ballroom, the music surges, poignant violin lilting into the first movement of a waltz. It’s with resolve that Minori slides off the balcony’s railing and strides towards her, stretching out her hand in a summons. “Dance with me,” she begs, and who is Haruka to refuse? 

As Haruka intertwines their fingers with one hand, she hugs Minori’s waist close with the other, becoming intimately aware both of how soothing holding her feels and of the fact that she doesn’t even know if Minori can dance. If she doesn’t, it’s completely unnoticeable. Even without the music, they fall into a natural rhythm, swaying to the melody of their hearts alone. 

Warmth is all she can feel, warmth that melts the shards of frost encasing her body. Her senses are imminently focused only on that feeling - the warmth from Minori’s hands, from her waist, from her gentle breaths mingling with Haruka’s own. For so long, she has wondered if she would ever find passion in love, but now she doesn’t have to worry. This isn’t just passion, this is the realisation that she has found her northern star. Someone who she can say she truly cares for, who belongs in the deepest recesses of her heart.

Haruka’s hand roams upwards, from Minori’s waist to the swell of her back. The distance between them grows closer with every passing moment. Like two stars swirling in tandem around each other, they travel further, until Minori is flush against the railing again, Haruka supporting her back as they stop to simply stare at each other.

Minori wets her lips. Haruka finds herself mesmerised.

“May I kiss you?” She utters, so soft that it might as well be a litany to her love. Minori’s fingers run like sieves through Haruka’s hair as she cradles her face, whispering, “Please.”

The invitation is accepted. Finally, after yearning for so long, she leans in and-

“Haruka? Is that you out there? Come in before you catch a cold!”

Dissatisfaction churns through her as she is left with only the faintest brush of Minori’s lips against hers, pulling away in an instant. All the serenity of the moment before is replaced by panic on both their parts, Minori’s face especially furrowing with concern. Even though nobody has seen her yet, if she stuck around it would only be a matter of time before someone came out to investigate.

Those lips are still unblemished by kisses, rosy with the night’s chill. Sadly, tonight wasn’t opportune for them. 

“Must be time for to go,” Minori murmurs, breaths still heady, “but first-” 

Her cheek burns after Minori kisses it. She stares imploringly up at her as if yearning to stay, blush dusting her cheeks in russet, but sadly fate’s workings have turned against them yet again. Before Haruka can say anything more, she props herself up on the railing and twists her body around, facing the moonlight.

“Maybe next time you can kiss me properly,” Minori muses, before vaulting off the edge of the balcony. Her figure is swallowed by curling tendrils of ivy and nebulous foliage, until Haruka has nothing left of her except a lingering memory on her cheek. 

Minori’s beautiful, she laments to herself, oh, so beautiful.

“Come back, child! Your betrothed has arrived!”

A languid breath leaves her, as Minori’s warmth drains away, and all that’s left is the glacial sensation of her reality. Haruka turns back to the ballroom with a heavy heart, leaving her love to the forces of the night.

…

In all of the sixteen years Haruka has lived, she can say with certainty that facing her father is one of her hardest challenges. 

No matter what situation it was occurring in, whether it was a formal meeting or a completely casual family outing, she always finds herself intimidated without fail. Is it his broad shoulders, weathered and scarred from conquest after conquest, which unnerve her? His stern brow, unyielding for the slightest of mistakes? Or, perhaps, is it the nightmare of failure that haunts her fervently, especially now? Whatever it is, all Haruka is certain of is that around her father, there is no room to be anyone except her best self and more.

That’s why whilst she toils away now in her father’s study, sorting document after document into piles of refuse and non-refuse, whenever she glances at the eternity of her father’s back, her throat clenches. 

This has never been a particularly difficult job. Haruka has done it for years under her father’s company, but time has a way of changing people, and the man who once spared her only tender affection has become a complete stranger. If the room was empty, Haruka would be finished by now, yet something about her father makes her want to both prolong her stay and escape the room as soon as possible. Even the room is drenched in the sickly scent of dusk, the only light being candles that crack and bubble at the base. They say a house is a reflection of its owner, and Haruka is starting to realise how true that really is.

Somehow, she manages to dredge herself through her work despite all the distractions, ending up with two neat piles of documents. Not a sliver of paper out of place, just as her father desired. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if he noticed an imperfection, after all. With hesitant conviction, Haruka rises from the plush surface of the armchair she had been nestled into, announces, “I’ve finished, I will be leaving now, father,” and proceeds to head for the door without another word. The scrape of an inkwell against lacquered wood, however, makes her freeze in place. Her father isn’t finished with her yet. 

“Before you go, Haruka,” he begins, the only words he has spoken to her this entire time, “Tell your mother that I will return home late tonight. I’ve been tasked with overseeing a public execution. Stay here and keep watch over the house - it would be unbecoming of me to bring women to such an event.”

“Public execution?” Haruka echoes tentatively, wondering what fiendish criminal was going to be killed, “For who?”

“A witch. We finally caught her - the girl who stole our apples, which you mentioned previously. We’ll be burning her at the stake tonight.”

Haruka’s heart stops. This scenario wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s conceived out of her most vicious nightmares, and yet fate dares it to become reality. 

He was about to execute Minori.

Her thoughts drain away, leaving her mind a hallowed husk. Haruka feels as if she’ll be revoltingly sick any minute now, but when her stomach sloshes threateningly, she finds that she can’t force anything out. She clutches her chest, thumping to an unconscious rhythm, one that becomes more and more erratic as she realises what must have happened after they last parted ways.

Minori had been arrested after that night, and it was all Haruka’s fault.

How could she have let this happen? Would Minori have been safe if she hadn’t summoned her that night? The fact that she and she alone must have been the reason for her beloved’s life to be put in danger rocks her to her core, making her shudder so terribly that she fears she’ll collapse against the door entirely.

“Are you ill, child?” Her father’s voice booms from behind her. Haruka turns around, and to her abject horror, his expression is one of complete apathy.

“Father,” she begins, her voice quavering with every word, “must you really execute her? She meant no real harm with her actions - there was no true intent behind what she was doing, and I’m sure that there is another way to make her repent.”

Normally, Haruka would have been aghast at her own actions, rebelling against her own father like this. For Minori, however, she needs to do this. It’s the only way.

Her father pauses in pensive silence. Then, he rises, and Haruka remembers just how petrifying the sight of him really is.

“That witch is a criminal. She trespassed on our grounds, she stole from our orchard, and she belongs to the Hanasato family, who have committed injustice upon injustice against us. This is our family’s duty.” Each thud of his boots against the floor makes Haruka’s alarm begin rising to fever pitch, until he looms like a snarling wolf over her.

“This is quite unlike you. Were you not eager to bring her to justice, too?”

“I regret what I’ve done,” Haruka begs, her voice rising in pitch at her own sacrilege, “So please, you must spare this girl.”

“What has gotten into you, child?” His palpable frustration spars against her anguish, “She will be executed, and that’s that-“

“But I love her!”

Silence. Haruka cups a hand over her mouth, but the damage has already been done, and her father, the man she has aspired to impress for her entire life, has already heard her confess her sins. 

“I love her,” she whispers, “I love her, I love her, and if you love me, you with your infinite wisdom will surely love her too.” 

Her father’s calculating stare is becoming more like a ferocious glare. No longer does he regard her with even the respect of a father. Now he is staring down at her like she’s a cockroach about to be crushed under his heel. 

“You don’t love her,” he growls, “You can’t love her. You mustn’t love anyone except your betrothed-”

“I love her from the bottom of my heart,” Haruka argues, her chest rattling as she reels under the burden of confrontation, “and I couldn’t care less about the marriage anymore. Cancel the engagement. Do whatever you want, just please-”

“Couldn’t care less?” Her father echoes, nearly driving his fist into the wall, “My blessed child wants to throw away her perfect future for the sake of-”

“It’s not perfect if it doesn’t have her in it!”

“We have spent months picking out the perfect match for you! And you decide to-”

“Excuse me, sir. I’d like to say that I, too, want this engagement to be annulled.”

Haruka wonders where the voice is coming from, before she quickly identifies it when the doors stagger shut behind him - it’s from her fiancé, Rui, whose face is overshadowed with determination. “If Haruka wishes to confess her sins, then I will too. For the past six months, I have been romantically involved with my family’s stable hand. And I love him more than words can say.”

Haruka doesn’t ask how he made it here. Instead, she’s only grateful to have someone else on her side. Out of the corner of her eye, she flashes him a knowing look, and he returns it with the slightest smirk. 

Her mouth is left agape at what she sees when her gaze returns to her father, however. He’s astonished - no, he looks as if his worldview has entirely shattered.

“You…” his hoarse voice could have almost become a sardonic laugh, “You are foolish. Foolish children, the both of you. Get out of my sight.”

“But-”

“Nothing will change. The witch will die tonight. Now, I told you both to leave.”

The moment Rui opens his mouth to argue, her father’s piercing glare trains directly onto him, “I said, leave.”

With a fluid motion, her father slams the doors open, nearly tearing them off their hinges, and deftly shoves them both back into the hall. The last thing Haruka sees is the pure rage emanating off of her father before the doors shut with a crash, and in reaction to this she leaps to her feet, trying to force open an entrance which has now been locked. 

“Father! Father, please!” Her fists pound against sturdy doors, to no avail. There’s no changing his decision now. Haruka is tempted to smash her entire weight against the door before Rui tugs at her sleeve, “Why don’t we ask your mother?”

Right, her mother. Despite how meek and docile she wills herself to be, she is still the woman who raised her all these years, and she should sympathise more with the yearning in Haruka’s heart more than anyone. 

“Let’s go,” she affirms, a spark of dread making her cerulean eyes blaze gold, and without another word they storm down the hall, desperately searching for their last hope. Before she can begin checking every room, however, something distracts her - a commotion seems to be brewing at the entrance, judging by how many of the manor’s servants had gathered to watch. Figuring that it must be their best bet, she surges towards the crowd, sifting past clumps of observers in order to investigate. 

When Haruka makes her way outside, however, she can’t believe what she sees. 

More people have gathered here today than she has ever seen at the estate in a long time. All clad in swathes of darkness, most of them with their faces shrouded by the brims of their hats, and her stomach is beginning to churn, horror sloshing around in her stomach. It doesn’t take a genius to know just exactly why they have come. In contrast, her mother stands alone against them, and to Haruka, she too is completely unrecognisable. 

“Witches,” Haruka’s mother yells, “What is your business here?!”

A woman with a dark, wide-brimmed hat steps forward, presumably Minori’s mother by the coral braid curled to the side of one shoulder. “We’re here for my daughter,” in one hand, she grips a wand, and her fist clenches tighter around it, “Now tell us, what have you done with her?”

Callous laughter pours from her mother’s mouth, the sound of which sickens her to the very depth of her being. “The criminal scum you call your daughter? Oh, nothing yet. Rest assured, however… she is about to get what she deserves.”

Absolutely not. This is nothing like what Minori deserves. Haruka wishes she could rescue her from this travesty of a situation, but by the storm of witchcraft brewing on the horizon, it’s clear that this is only going to end in conflict. 

“Mother!” She screams over the thrall of the darkening sky, racing down slate steps and hurtling right towards her. “Please, you have to reconsider! This isn’t right!”

Dread lodges itself deep within her stomach. That look her mother is giving her doesn’t resemble any of a woman who has always been pliant and dutiful. This is the poisonous death stare of a woman intending to kill. 

“Haruka,” she drawls, seething away, “go back inside, won’t you? I have to deal with these… heathens.”

“Heathens?!” Minori’s mother exclaims, before she delves into her satchel, “Alright, that’s it. I’ve had enough of arguing with these people. Everyone-”

“Look, the royal guard has arrived!”

Just their luck. The clattering of hooves signals the arrival of valiant knights on horseback, poised and ready for battle. Where once stood a triumphant group of witches, now they were shirking back, muttering to themselves in the realisation that in reality, they had actually been surrounded the entire time. “What was that?” Her mother grins wickedly, “You had enough of arguing? Then, isn’t it lucky that the royal guard managed to arrive, just in time?” Haruka’s blood boils - her mother had been planning a trap in advance, hadn’t she?

“Do not move,” one of the guards, a gruff-looking older man barks, “You are all hereby being placed under arrest.” 

Obediently, nobody moves. That is, until Minori’s mother glances around, yells back, “But when has that ever stopped us?” and with a swift motion, retrieves a glass jug full of silvery liquid from her satchel and smashes it onto the ground. The result? A cacophonous peal of lightning, and the next few seconds go by in a blur of chaos. 

Screams and cries become one in a terrifying vacuum of noise and sensation, heightening in pitch with every passing moment. Haruka can’t make out what’s going on - one minute she’s stable on her feet, the next minute a rider on horseback knocks her to the ground in their pursuit, her vision blurring between flashes of colour and pure light. Panic surges through her, and her fingers tingle with the sheer force she’s exerting to try and get herself to move, but nothing seems to be working, and the sight of blades clashing against vibrant magic is enough to make her head spin. Briefly, Haruka catches a glimpse of Rui struggling to escape from the throes of a duel against a young witch and a fearsome-looking knight. Her lungs burn, singed away when she tries to call out for help. Just a little closer, and she was going to get crushed under the weight of a horse, or worse yet, obliterated by a witch’s rogue spell-

“Oi, Haruka! You’re not giving up that easily, are you?”

Haruka’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. For a moment, she wonders if this is all a dream from the afterlife, but by the sensation of her nails dragging against the dirt, it’s clear that this is all real. Of course, she should have known. Where the royal guard was involved, An would more often than not rope herself into any sort of conflict. 

There she is, her childhood friend, and now her saviour. From here, mounted on horseback, Haruka has to say that she does look pretty heroic in the gloom of the twilight. For now, however, that can wait. An stretches out her hand, gesturing for her to catch a ride, and with all the strength left in her fragile body, Haruka hoists herself onto the back of An’s horse, before they gallop away from the epicentre of the fighting at top speed.

“I’ll take you up that hill,” An juts her chin towards the aforementioned site, where a cold shiver jolts through her at the sight of a stake already having been set up, a black scar against the ever-deepening darkness. “I heard all about this execution. Then I thought of you, and I just- we’re not going to let her die, okay?”

All that’s left to steady Haruka is the constant rock of the horse on its journey. “Okay,” she nods, grip still unsteady, “And… Thank you, An.”

“No problem,” she responds, “Love makes you do things you never imagined you would do. I should know.”

…

Once they reach as far as An can travel, just before the beginning of the crowd of villagers milling around the area, Haruka slides down the horse’s back, giving it a final reassuring pat before seeing An off. “I’d better get back down to the fight,” she comments, “Just stay safe, and don’t do anything rash, okay?”

“Same to you,” Haruka replies, knowing full well that even her being here was an act of rashness. With a final wave of her hand, An leaves her with one last smile before setting off again into the night. 

There’s one more thing left for her to do now. It’s time for Haruka to take matters into her own hands, once and for all.

Unsure of how much time she has left with how disoriented she got earlier, Haruka slots neatly into the crowd, feigning ignorance of what was really about to happen whilst she attempts to see from so far behind the crowd. After forcing her way through crassly, Haruka is finally treated to the unforgiving sight before her. Apathetic attendants are securing the final bindings around Minori’s torso, keeping her flush against the stake, and beneath her, piles of flammable debris are stacked so high they nearly swallow her legs. Worst of all, Minori looks completely resigned to her fate. Resigned to the end of her life.

Minori might be accepting this, but Haruka certainly isn’t.

“No!” Her cry is one of near-hysteria as she shoves through the crowd. The faintest glimmer of shock lapses through Minori’s gaze as Haruka’s fit of madness ends in her subsiding onto the stacked debris. Even when the crowd’s excitement heightens to a mad rush in shock, and she sustains the force of strong hands attempting to tear her away, the sheer force of adrenaline roots her firmly in place. 

“If you’re really going to execute her,” Haruka threatens, making sure her voice rings out across the crowd, “you’ll have to execute me, too.”

Surely this would be reason enough to call off the foray. No reasonable executioner would risk the life of a noblewoman like her, not even at the cost of sparing a criminal’s life. That is, until she recalls that her father is meant to be overseeing this operation, and she is sure that her father is not a reasonable executioner. 

A familiar towering figure steps powerfully forward from the group of servants organising the execution. Overtly disappointed, clearly, but not surprised that Haruka would go to such lengths.

“So we meet again, daughter,” every syllable of his rolls off the tongue with biting venom, “and I see you are still under the witch’s spell.” 

Under the witch’s spell? So that’s how he sees her true feelings? Sweat beads off her hands as she clenches them into fists, then proceeds to feel around the ropes to try and find the knot. “There’s no spell,” Haruka yells back, still engrossed in her task and committing an even bigger sacrilege as she ignores her father, “I just love her, and that’s it.”

She doesn’t want to see her father’s reaction, but she’s sure that if she did, he would be either overwhelmingly disappointed or violently shocked. What she doesn’t realise, however, is that it ends up being neither of those options. He doesn’t respond for a moment, what with the clamour of the crowd antsy to figure out what was going on, then, with resolve, makes his decision. 

“Very well. A daughter who loves a witch is no daughter of mine,” He grits his teeth, “Let her burn.”

A litany of gasps and shocked exclamations echo across the crowd. One of the servants rushes up to him, face aglow with horror as she exclaims, “Surely you don’t mean-”

“I mean it,” he snarls, “unless I have to cast you to the flames too.”

Pallid with fear, the woman bows her head, squeaking, “No, sir,” and scampers away. Haruka’s eyes are trained on her father’s commanding hand, the hand which had once fed her, once carried her, once raised her to become the most exceptional heiress. The hand which, at this moment, was about to help cause her death.

In her father’s words, very well, then. Let her burn with the one she loves.

It’s only then that she realises Minori has been staring down at her this entire time with a laser-focused expression, doe eyes bulged wide with terror. “What are you doing?!” She half-hisses, and Haruka asserts, “I’m here to save you.” 

“But it won’t work,” Minori near-thrashes, but the ropes are firm and stolid with security, “Please. Leave before you get hurt. I promise I won’t be mad.”

“I’m not leaving,” Haruka seethes through her teeth, her nails clawing into the ligature, and even if this ordeal would be an eternity’s toil, she is willing to make an eternity go by in a few minutes. Not even the sight of her beloved petrified out of her mind and pleading under her breath for her to save herself is enough to divert her from her task. This will work. This will work, or she will burn along with her failed efforts. 

“Are you sure-” a voice of shattering stained glass trembles, “are you sure that you want to stay with me?”

“I’m sure,” Haruka affirms, and means it more than anything.

Lost in frantic thought for a moment, Minori bites her lip, then bows her head. Her words are barely audible as they slur together, each syllable imminently sacred and tumbling from her mouth like opalescent stars to earth. Something tugs at Haruka’s being, and when she chances a look at her trembling hands, there’s the faintest bluish glow pulsating madly around them. 

“It’s a fire protection incantation,” she whispers, her voice quaking, “I know how to do it to other people. I can’t do it to myself.”

“No,” Haruka sobs, clawing deeper and deeper into the ropes. They just won’t break. She knows they won’t break. Only a sheer miracle would stop this, and even though Haruka has never truly believed in blessings from the gods, she would even cast her beliefs to the side in order to stop this from happening. Tales like these are supposed to have happy endings, aren’t they?

This is no fairytale, Haruka realises. There is no hopeful future, no perfect marriage waiting at the end. This is reality, and reality has a way of crushing dreams under its heel. 

Tongues of smoke curl around its victims, snakes slavering and ravenous for their prey. Embers are beginning to rise around them, and if she didn’t know better, she would think they were luminescent stars journeying into their rightful place in the sky. As the first vestiges of fire begin to lick at her heels, Haruka has no time to marvel at the fact that she really couldn’t feel a thing - she has to tear this rope apart, and fast. 

“Haruka,” Minori breaks the half-silence, “stop. Don’t bother.”

“I can’t,” she resists, “I have to save you. I promise I will save you. I can do this, I swear, I-”

“It’s fine.” Tears bloom at the corners of her eyes, the faintest smile upon her lips, “I always-  I’ve always had a feeling that things would end like this. My curse was always going to get the better of me someday.”

Haruka’s breaths rack her chest, each one more laborious to breathe than before. “Stop it,” her voice rises an octave, breaking in a sob like the child she truly is, “You’re being unfair again.” 

Face slick with miniscule, glistening baubles, Minori’s quivering lips curl into a smile, “When was I ever playing fair?”

Memories flicker through her mind. Of their first meeting, where she eluded her capture unflinchingly. Of their meetings after that, of discovering a deep-seated desire within her to free herself from the shackles of expectation, of all the words she has left unsaid. There was never a chance of her playing fair, and that’s what drew Haruka to her the most.

“Do you remember,” Silver eyes swim with emotion, reflecting the germinating light of the blaze as it begins to rise, “a while ago, when I told you that I’ve admired you for a long time?” She tries to laugh, but it ekes out as a whimper, “I should have said this before, but that day, you… you saved me. I was feeling really hopeless that day, but seeing you fighting down there, I just- it gave me hope. That I shouldn’t give up, so one day I could be as strong as you too. And I guess-” she sighs, a rattling sigh, “I guess it isn’t true, after all.”

No, of course it’s true, you’re so much stronger than you think, Haruka wants to say, but the menacing snarl of the fire is beginning to build into an inferno. Her fingers have scratched at the rope so adamantly that they’re raw and bleeding, the tinge of blue surrounding her reinforcing itself until it’s a thick layer. Smoke now blankets them, as if they were both being swaddled in a deadly final embrace. 

“Hey, Haruka,” Minori gasps, wincing with unbearable pain but forcing herself to continue speaking, “Can you take care of my family for me?”

Her heart stammers. “Okay,” she weeps, her strength draining from the futility of it all, “I promise.”

By now, rivers of gold and russet have resplendently soared, to the point where Minori’s body is nearly obscured. Haruka takes one final look at the girl she loves. In that very moment, she finds herself falling in love over and over again, though lifetime after lifetime, until there’s nothing more for either of them to give. In that fateful moment, she murmurs, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Minori whispers, before her tear-stained face is swallowed by flames. 

…

Haruka doesn’t know how long it has been since that moment. Her vision is a golden mirage muddied by tears, and her strength, too, has melted away in the fire. All she knows is that by the time help arrives, and the fire is put out, there is no Minori left to cradle in her arms. Nothing except the cold, unforgiving ground to comfort Haruka as she cries. 

Maybe the world is going to end soon. Maybe the world has already ended.

Maybe her world is a charred stump smouldering away into moonrise.

…

Where once there was monochrome, Minori had brought unruly colour into her life, the likes of which she fears she can’t live without. Within those orderly grey boxes the world had placed Haruka in, Minori had created bursts of technicolour light, and Haruka couldn’t help but fall in love with the alluring beauty of the world she had brought her. Most of all, she couldn’t help but fall in love with the one who taught her how beautiful life can be in the first place. Everything had been perfect in its own imperfect way.

That is, until now, where Haruka is now suspended in a grey prison, and worst of all, it’s of her own making. 

The prison’s doors lock behind her in the aftermath of Minori’s death. Distraught, broken beyond relief and with nowhere else to go, she sought sanctuary amongst the witches, who welcomed her so wholeheartedly that she might as well have been born as one of their own. Before, Haruka might have been an enemy to them, but now her status, or what is left of it, no longer matters to her. She will learn from her mistakes, or she will die trying.

Since that day, Haruka has devoted herself to taking care of Minori’s brother. Boys his age would be enrolled under the care of a private tutor by now, but she has become adamant in taking up the task herself. After all, the youthful splendour of innocence still burns bright in his eyes. Haruka would rue the day she ever saw that flame die out. Day by day she weaves an intricate tapestry of lies for him, assuring him that Minori has simply embarked on a quest and will someday return, swallowing down the malignant honesty that constantly reminds her that he has to know someday. He can’t be a child forever, but for now he is one, and Haruka has to treat him that way.

Sometimes, like today, she gets sent on errands on behalf of the witches who are unable to leave their dwellings themselves. It’s the least she can do, considering all the benediction they have shown her. Haruka doesn’t consider any ulterior motive, as she used to do - if she ever heard the witches whispering about how frequent outings in nature would help her with her grief, she wouldn’t dare acknowledge it. There are more important things for her to be focusing on. 

“Right, I’ve got rosemary, snapdragon, alyssum…” Haruka recites the list of herbs she needed to bring back one more time for good measure, “I’m just missing marigolds.” She pores attentively through the wicker basket, but there are no blossoms of gold and crimson to be seen. From what she’s learnt so far, the herbs she has already collected should be areas where these flowers thrive, so it’s just her luck that she hasn’t stumbled across any already. Even more unfortunate for her, however, Haruka isn’t well versed with the terrain in this area yet, so it would be best to turn back now while she still has a vague idea of where she is.

“There weren’t any at the clearing before, nor closer to the riverbank… Really, how hard is it to find marigolds these days?” She grumbles, making the impulsive decision to kick a stray stone, before immediately regretting it upon realising how solid the stone actually was.

“Ow…” Haruka seethes, nearly toppling over from the force of that kick and gingerly setting down her aching foot. Nothing in her foot feels broken, hopefully, and even if it is injured, a little visit to the healers should mend it in no time. Perks of living in a colony of witches, she supposes.

Dejectedly, Haruka sighs - even though Minori’s family have exercised such overwhelming kindness by taking her in and treating her as one of their own, she struggles with reciprocating that generosity. Haruka doesn’t want to remain dead weight, but she’s starting to doubt her ability to be able to contribute to their lives. If she couldn’t even complete this simple errand, would she ever be able to earn her keep amongst the witches? She’s torn between kicking that stone again and dumping out her entire basket of herbs in frustration, but wisely she decides that neither of those options are particularly smart.

Looks like Haruka should just make her way back, cut her losses and hopefully learn from this next time-

“Excuse me for asking, but did you say you needed marigold?”

All the stress she’s accumulated melts away. In fact, all her thoughts melt away, her entire being focused on those fateful words. That voice emanating from the thickets seems to have had a spellbinding effect on her - she doesn’t know why, but the smooth dulcet of that tone sings like warbling birdsong in her ears, or perhaps the song of an angel itself.

An angel is who Haruka finds herself face to face with when she turns around to confront the voice. A sun kissed angel, who’s hair curls around her like swathes of darkened sunbeams, who’s body is draped in milk-sweet silk as if she was a blessed bride, whose eyes are sparkling with the cosmos in all it’s imperfect glory, and now Haruka yearns to trace those flawed constellations in her eyes, to hang those stars like baubles in the palace of her mind. Yes, she is meeting an angel, and all Haruka can say is that she is positively enraptured.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been collecting these flowers and I didn’t realise you would need them…” the angel frets, and her unvoiced response rests on the tip of her tongue, Don’t worry, keep them, I don’t want to say no to someone as beautiful as you. Only then does Haruka notice the brimming basket of blooms she clutches, whilst the girl begins laying handfuls of flowers into Haruka’s own basket before she can argue against it.

“Marigolds are my favourite flower,” she muses, “They’re the herb of the sun, or so I’m told. I like collecting them, but it seems like you need them more than me.”

Haruka doesn’t argue with that. She simply lets herself drink the nectar dripping from the girl’s every word, embraces the feeling of comfort she didn’t even know she missed until now. Once the girl has finished with the flowers, their eyes meet in shades of plenilunar grey.

“My name is Minori,” the girl announces, and whilst Haruka has always believed in fate, she knows this isn’t fate’s doing, but rather destiny. “What’s yours?”

“It’s Haruka,” she replies, forgoing her last name. After all, it’s rare that she gets a chance like this, to be able to cast the constraints of her upbringing aside. Besides… deep down, she’d like to think Minori already knows who she is. 

“You look exhausted,” Minori proceeds to remark, offering her marble-like hand, “Would you like to rest at my cottage for a little while?”

“Yes,” Haruka murmurs as she laces their fingers together, “I’d like that.” Though on the outside, Minori’s hands resembled those chiselled from marble by the most skilled artisans, the truth is much dearer to her heart. These hands are infallibly warm, and infallibly real. Maybe Haruka can allow her reality to be beautiful. Maybe she can let the walls of her prison be splashed with vibrant colour and signs of life.

This isn’t the same. This will never be the same. But, she muses, it’s the start of something new. Something that she vows will last a lifetime. 

I never got the chance to tell you, but you have saved me just as much as I have saved you.

No matter who you are, I want nothing more than to have the pleasure of being by your side.

This I promise to you, and it’s going to be the truth this time:

I will love you without fail, and I will love you forever.