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Kujou Sara was a weapon forged for the Raiden Shogun, the god of eternity and archon of Inazuma. From how she was raised, to the training, to even the way she stood. She was a blade, carefully tempered through the process outlined in the books she read during her studies.
Kujou Sara had gone through countless teachings of war, how to conduct, how to act as general, strategies. She maintained these skills with puzzles and frequently reviewed these policies, although she could recite them already by heart. She read poetry and sayings of war, and wrote down her tasks and the things that have occurred every day in a journal objectively and neatly.
Kujou Sara typically wrote with her right hand, but was actually ambidextrous due to her original favored hand being her left one. As a result, she was proficient in combat using both hands. This allowed her more flexibility on the battlefield. This also let her switch hands if one is injured or under strain.
Kujou Sara had incredible balance. This was due to her Tengu race, as naturally they did have better balance and control, but also due to strict training. She was light and tactile, and used this to have the advantage of speed and the element of surprise. Although she was light and swift, she did have quite a bit of muscle, and stood at a rather tall height, towering over most women.
Kujou Sara kept herself on a strict schedule, with strict routines. She ate a nutritious diet, did specific training on schedule, and much more. She kept up a routine of training, studying, learning, meditation, and work. Her job as general took up most of her day.
Most of her paycheck, quite a handsome sum, was spent by the estate and the people who manage it, as she had no need for the amount of money. A sizable portion went to various charities and public projects. The remaining amount stayed with her.
This was Kujou Sara, the general, the weapon, the educated, the tempered, the versatile, the balanced, the moral woman.
Kujou Sara is all of these things.
The Decree Happened.
It happened, and Sara did not know what to do when it ended. She twirled around the pen in her hands. She hadn’t seen her room in weeks, and had instead lived in the tents with the soldiers. It was only fair, and her only option. Rocking back and forth on her chair, she thought up ways to fill her week she had to herself at the moment.
In reality, she did not have a week, and it wasn’t going to be to herself. She had to help her brothers manage the estate and affairs of the jumbled Tenryou Commission.
She was fairly sure that Masahito did want her to have a break, but she also knew that she would still be needed around. She was waiting, patiently, but knew not to make commitments.
She traced her hands over the scars left from electrocution, from the electro-charged reaction that she triggered onto Sangonomiya Kokomi and herself in a split-second, stupid decision that was not what Takayuki taught her. It was a miracle they both survived.
If she was the same girl, the same one crafted as a weapon with a traitor heart that screamed with emotion, she would’ve wished for Sangonomiya’s scars (if she even had them still) to burn. To annoy, to eat, to destroy.
That was Sara before the war, the kinder heart that held simmering anger, only slightly tainted.
But now? Sara’s heart was just tired, tired of all of the loss and betrayal.
It was ultimately a stalemate, for they had fought tooth and nail, using chess pieces carved of bone and polished of blood. They fought in the elegant sword dances of times long gone, except the swords drew blood, crimson red, staining the waves and the beaches, using soldiers and troops, relying on them to be nothing more.
If Sara was one to sit around and think, truly think, without becoming restless, she may have described it as more than remorse and grief pushing her to honor the fallen.
Kamaji had become proxy-head of the clan, and nearly had gotten married whilst Sara was still organizing the troops and sending them home, as per the Shogun’s order. Now, he was resting in the other room, with swollen wounds and many bruises. Sara couldn’t help but wonder if she would’ve gotten so injured if she had been in his place.
Sara knew, however, that taking proxy-head would be a bad political move for her, and that Kamaji was the most qualified out of the three of them to be the head.
She should write a letter to the Kamisato Clan, thanking them for preventing the political turmoil the marriage would’ve caused, as a first order of business. Their favor would be useful in restoring the prestige of their clan. Takayuki would’ve been upset at her for managing clan and commission matters, because she “was no sister” to Kamaji and Masahito, but the man had lost her respect, a deceiver and liar of the worst kind. Therefore, she wouldn’t care.
It still stung, though, thinking about the separation between her and her brothers. The most would be sparring with Masahito and memorizing poetry with Kamaji. Other than that, Takayuki would rarely let them even sit close to each other, let alone converse.
But recently, she had been able to sit, talk, and spar with her brothers. It was pleasant, and a small, tiny part of her heart rejoiced at being able to spite Takayuki in this way.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an urgent knock at the door.
“Enter,” Sara allowed entry swiftly, and waited for the person to come in. She turned her head to the window, noting that the sun had long fallen, before returning her gaze towards the man hobbling through the door. Loud banging noises could be heard outside as well, as the figure looked upwards.
Kamaji.
Sara shot up from her seat to assist him, quickly coming to his side, and throwing an arm around his shoulders, and around his knees as carefully as she could at such speed, before closing and locking the doors, and sat him on an armchair.
“Kamaji, what is happening outside?” Sara asked, tensing at the sight of extra strain on his body, as well as a gash on his side.
Kamaji looked up at her, wincing. “..Assassins.”
Kujou Sara needed no other word, and in a few moments, the blinds were drawn shut and the General began opening the compartment in the wall.
Kamaji began listing off what had happened, from the caretaker that had attacked him, to the guards engaging with other Tenryou soldiers. Kujou Sara began devising, just as Kamaji begun making his way over to the compartment, so he could hide.
They had done this once before, when they were much younger, and Takayuki hadn’t had much favor at the time, so assassins were sent for him and the heirs.
Masahito had disobeyed orders, and instead of himself and Kamaji who went inside the compartment, he put Sara in instead of himself, and stood guard. Kamaji whispered stories to her the entire time, one of the only times she interacted with her brothers as a child.
Masahito. Where was Masahito right now?
Kamaji knew the value of his life, thankfully, and did not complain as Sara hid him, and she used her vision to teleport out of the room. When she opened her eyes, she was out of her quarters and in the hall. She could hear noise outside, and summoned her bow and arrow, before sprinting towards the exit.
She began formulating strategies, and ultimately after thinking of the best direction to approach from, decided on the roof.
Sara sat on the roof much as a child. When she wanted to get away from Takayuki, when she still had some idea of rebellion in her mind, she’d climb up and wait. Of course, the idea of the roof was taken from her, trained out, combed and washed, ironing the wrinkles out. Perfect handle, smooth and sharp blade.
She observed momentarily. The defective soldiers, now associated with the assassins, the ones that were dishonorable and bought off from what she could tell, were in active combat with the guards of the estate. Kujou Sara sent down a warning signal, a burst of electro, and teleported down.
She pulled out her bow and charged her shots with electro, just enough to knock them out. They would need to be alive for her to interrogate them fully.
A few of the guards were injured, and The General began commanding some to take them out of the path of fire.
There were about 12 fully armored soldiers, and in about 5 minutes, all were on the ground. Sara would not allow more than 5, her lucky number. It left a bad feeling.
After handing them off to soldiers that Kujou Sara was more acquainted with and trusted more, she scanned the crowd of people at the estate for Masahito.
Her work outside was done, so she ventured off inside for Masahito. Had he fallen? Sara would’ve likely seen him if he did. He didn’t have his usual armor, she remembered, as it was being repaired. But, Masahito could handle himself, Sara trusted him on that, so she turned back to her quarters for Kamaji.
When she arrived back at her quarters, she turned the door handle, opening the door. She summoned her bow again. Four people had the keys to her quarters, Kamaji, Masahito, the chief retainer, and herself.
She prayed silently as she opened the door.
“Sara?”
It was Masahito’s voice that greeted her as she entered.
Sara looked at him, his face the same serious one as the time he placed her in the compartment in his stead.
“Masahito.” She locked the door once more, and made her way over to him, sitting in the middle of the room, on the armchair.
They both glanced at the compartment, before making eye contact once more. Masahito seemed to be silently asking if the threat had been neutralized, to which Sara nodded and they both headed over and unlocked the compartment.
Kamaji looked up at them, and they stared back. Then, he made a face, and suddenly, Masahito and him were laughing, and before she could even attempt to stop herself, she was too. Sara rarely laughed, especially after the Decree and war, and yet.
It wasn’t even a joke, either. Just Kamaji being himself. The boy who could always create a new tactic to make Takayuki let him skip memorizing and studying had never died, and Masahito being the rowdy and popular soldier that he always had been, would laugh with him too.
And Sara, for no particular reason, found it hilarious and laughed along. There wasn’t an explanation needed, but that she was now.
After a few moments, Masahito wiped a tear slipping out and stretched out a hand for Kamaji, and Sara took the other, moving to pull him out. Kamaji winced but let himself be freed from the crawl space.
Sara moved to pick up Kamaji as she did earlier, but was interrupted by a hand lightly shoving her, and a few tuts.
“Go grab the bandages. I can move him,” Masahito’s voice was deep and slightly gravelly, but his eyes were concerned and had the look in them that he did always have in the few times they spoke as children.
Sara felt an urge to respond with, ‘Yes, sir!’ like she would with Takayuki. She had too many thoughts about that man, so she simply responded with, “Alright,” and made her way over to her cabinet filled with medical supplies.
She pulled out the basket designated for disinfecting supplies and bandages, and scanned the contents. Five rolls of bandages, some salves, small towels, a bottle of disinfectant made from whopperflowers, mint, and other things, and a needle and thread.
Turning around, she noticed the door connecting from the main room with her desk and office and her bedroom was open, and headed there.
Stepping through the doors, she found Kamaji laid out on her bed with Masahito standing next to it, talking about what happened outside. The clothes around the main wound were pulled back, and Sara was pretty sure that this could be considered immodest, but then again, she was an exception to quite a few etiquettes anyways. Before she could really hear anything useful, Kamaji noticed her.
“..Sorry.” Kamaji tried sitting up and was pushed down by Masahito.
“Why?” Sara responded, setting the basket down on the table.
“This is your bed. Didn’t mean to intrude or get it dirty.”
“You aren’t,” she replied, just as Masahito and pulled a towel out of a drawer. She pulled out the disinfectant, unscrewed the lid, and poured some onto a small towel.
He shoved it in Kamaji’s mouth. “Bite on that.”
Kamaji did so, and winced even before Masahito gave her a look and she handed him the disinfectant towel. Kamaji had always been the one that had less of a pain tolerance. Of course, he was trained in the ways of the clan, and of the styles taught to the military, but he wasn’t a soldier like Masahito or Sara.
Masahito pressed it to the gash on his side. It wouldn’t need stitches, but a good healer once the night was over. He winced at the pain, bit down on the towel, hard, and dug one hand in his hair and one into the skin of his thighs. Sara looked through the salves for the numbing one.
She passed it over to Masahito, who was still cleaning it, and likely would need another towel that was cleaner, because the one he’d been using had blood, dried and some fresh, coating it. She poured some more onto another towel and handed it to him.
Although they both had much experience with being a stand in medic when things got bad , Sara less frequently did treat her soldiers directly. She usually would guide them around. Masahito had less responsibility, and although he technically was a General too, he was of lower rank and had less soldiers to command. This also meant that he had more time to commit to keeping specific people alive if medics were low.
Kujou Sara thought of what was happening outside. She would likely have to go soon to check on the guards and interrogate the assassin and the soldiers who assisted them. She would also need to manage how the information spread, which was more of Kamaji’s specialty. Perhaps she could ask a favor of Kamisato Ayato, but then again, that would mean owing their clan something, and Kujou Sara would prefer to
consult both her brothers before doing as such. Rumors would not do their clan good.
Tomorrow, she could perhaps publicly announce the attack instead. This would allow the truth that she gave to be the most widely known, instead of choppy and exaggerated words-on-the-streets’ that her clan was facing much of recently.
This would also cause distrust in the Shogun, whom Kujou Sara was still devoted to, although her full attention could not be given right now. Sara, a year ago, would not understand, but her responsibilities were now all spread out, and she could simply not spend as much time in worship.
Masahito was putting the salve on Kamaji, she noticed. The smell was strong, clogging her nose. Now that she thought about it, if he hadn’t somewhat fought back against the assassin and ran, he would be dead. Sara hadn’t been close to her brothers as a child, and whilst she definitely did not have the bond of the Kamisatos nowadays, she still was closer, and would be upset if they died.
Now that she thought about it, she would be upset if Kamaji died, not just because of politics, right? She would miss him, the boy who whispered stories to her when she was still willing to play, run, and cause mischief. She would.
She wouldn’t. Some cruel chain of thought whispered. Sara looked up at Masahito, now bandaging Kamaji. Sara ran her fingers in circles 5 times each per hand. It was going to be okay.
Masahito wrapped Kamaji. One, two, three, four, five… six.
That wasn’t right.
Suddenly, Sara felt like jumping onto the bed and unwrapping that last time around his torso of the bandage. She remained still. Unwrapping the bandage means that you don’t care about him, that you would let him bleed.
Sara does care about Kamaji. She looked past him at her five statues of the Raiden Shogun, and counted. One, two, three, four, five. She was going to be fine. What about Kamaji? He would be alright too. You haven’t mentioned Masahito. What if something happens due to that? Kamaji and Masahito would be fine.
This was a completely irrational line of thought. Completely irrational.
Sara whispered a prayer under her breath five times. She shut her eyes. She could still barely breathe.
Sara should breathe. Can she?
One, two, three-
They are dead, because you couldn’t protect them.
She will restart.
One, two, three, four-
Masahito is calling her name. She cannot move. She is standing upright and stiffly, taking in choked breaths and trying to hold onto her thoughts.
one, two, three, four, five.
She made mistakes twice. She should do it again twice more to make up for it.
one, two, three, four, ..five.
one, two, three.. four five.
She has done three. She should do two more to make it five sets.
Twenty-five. That is a pretty number.
one, two, three, four, five.
..one, two, three, four, five.
Sara rubs her thumb against her pointer finger in circles five times with the counting.
“.. one, two, three, four, five. ”
Sara is done.
Sara is not done, she said the last one out loud.
twenty-five is too perfect. She should do five more.
Her brothers are calling her.
She should finish quickly for them.
She must keep them safe.
Sara cares.
She does.
“..one, two, three, four, five.”
She must do more.
She has said two out loud. She must finish the set.
Sara is frustrated, and balls her fist. She is breathing, but don’t her shoes usually feel less wobbly than this?
Finish.
“..one, two, three, f-“
Sara falls to the ground, and uses muscle memory to catch herself.
Finish.
Sara winced. Her arm hurt. She wants Masahito. He will take care of it. Takayuki — Sir Kujou would be upset at her talking to his son. She should be training. Sara pushes herself off the floor.
Finish.
“four, five..” She managed to croak out.
There were hands under her shoulders, pulling her up.
Almost done.
“..one, two.. three, four, ..five.”
Sara was able to open her eyes a little now. A man was hovering around.
Masahito.
Someone was telling her a story, and no one else would but Kamaji. She is laying down next to him, and he is propped up on some pillows. Masahito sat down on a chair that he likely pulled from the office part of her quarters. Sara felt tired. It was common after these new.. trains of thought.
“Rest, Sara. I have it handled.” Masahito spoke, and she could hear him as a teenager sneaking her candies from the kitchen. He smiled, before putting on his helmet and leaving her quarters.
She looked up at Kamaji, who was now silently staring at her. There was a nasty gash on his cheek, which would heal on its own, and some patched up scratches as well, alongside the wrapped stab wound. The trace of the salves still lingered in the air, but also the scent of tea, books, and the strange third ingredient that made up the way Kamaji smelled when she hugged her as a child. She was glad he didn’t lose it.
Sara let herself smile, if only a little bit.
There is war, in the past, present, and future, but here in this room, Sara is free from it. In the eyes of eternity, this was less than a blink, if not a flash of light. And is eternity not what is seen in that flash of light, something preserved there forever?
Sara let her eyes slip shut.