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“kujou sara,” ayaka greets, straightening and placing her hands in her lap primly.
“kamisato ayaka,” sara responds in kind, watching the girl sitting calmly before her. neither of them speak for a long moment.
ayaka sighs, tamping down the urge to flick open a fan that she does not have with her. “general kujou, if there is something you wish to ask of me, please do so.”
“i have already asked you, lady kamisato,” sara says, narrowing her eyes. “surely you have not forgotten where you stand.”
no, of course not. ayaka is the one imprisoned, right now, and sara is the one who walks free. the shogun’s most loyal general and the watatsumi sympathizer. how could she possibly forget, when she only sees sara through the bars of her jail?
they wish to know sangonomiya’s plans. they wish to know what the yashiro commission is doing, what ayato has been up to.
but ayaka has been born and raised in a world of sharp words and sharper blades, and she will await her sentencing with the elegance of a noble and the silence of a rebel.
“general kujou,” ayaka says, offering her a paper-thin smile. “i have nothing to offer you.”
“and that is why the tenryou commission found correspondence between you and sangonomiya?” sara disagrees, raising a brow. “lady kamisato, forgive me, but surely you do not consider me to be a fool.”
ayaka sighs. no, of course not. six years she has known sara well, and the tengu warrior has always been quite intelligent. she must be – an outsider, a youkai, raised in the strictness of the kujou clan? to have survived at all is quite a feat, and ayaka laments each day that she has never been able to see sara in her forests, before the dangers of court life sanded her down into the general kujou.
kujou sara has never been a fool, but she has always been devoted, and ayaka fears that it is that very devotion that has blinded her beyond all recognition.
she knows that sara cares deeply for inazuma. so does she – and yet, here they are, on opposite sides of metal bars.
ayaka is not meant to survive this, she knows. she has no sword, no fan, not even her ceremonial clothing. the only reprieve she has been granted is her vision, kept in the room beside her. close enough that the effects of vision loss have yet to harm her, and hidden enough that she cannot call on its power.
even then, ayaka knows it is only because they still wish to try to take information from her, and they would not be able to should she lose her memory like all of the other victims.
she is not like kujou sara or sangonomiya kokomi – she has no youkai powers to call upon now. she has only her words, and her patience.
“i apologize,” ayaka says again. “i have nothing to give you.”
sara sighs, a hand lifting to cover her eyes. it is the most emotion she has expressed in their entire conversation, and ayaka pretends adamantly that the weariness visible in her eyes does nothing.
“ayaka, please,” sara pleads, voice rough. “it doesn’t have to be this hard.”
“this hard?” ayaka repeats, smile locked firmly in place. “you are not the one in chains, are you?”
sara flinches, shoulders caving in, and for a brief, terrible moment, ayaka wishes she had not spoken. but it is the truth, and she can only keep hoping that one day, sara will realize what the shogun is doing to inazuma. to their people.
they are both the sole female nobles of their clans – there is a responsibility they both wield, a power gifted to them, a duty they carry to protect their nation. from a young age, ayaka knows they were both taught the importance of inazuma above all.
it is truly a great tragedy that they disagree so deeply upon how this should be brought about. they could’ve been great, together: the tengu general and the heiress of the kamisato clan.
“i’m sorry, ayaka,” sara rasps out, and ayaka’s heart twists. “archons, what happened to us?”
her smiles falls, and she looks down in a last attempt to maintain some semblance of propriety. “i don’t know, sara.”
and she doesn’t, truly. six years of knowing each other, and what can they show for it?
they were closer, once. before the vision hunt decree was made, two years ago, and before the war broke out.
ayaka used to help sara molt. she wonders if anyone helps her now, or if she has returned to dealing with it herself alone.
sara gifted ayaka one of her first fans. it had been painted with the night sky, navy ink and golden-white stars scattered across, with floating sakura petals. it had reminded ayaka of sara herself, and she’d laughed, said that now she could carry sara with her wherever she went.
ayaka had liked to trace the scars collected on sara’s skin, like a patchwork of constellations and memories. she could name every battle for every mark, even if she had not been present.
there must be more scars, now. ayaka can see one creeping up sara’s neck, partially hidden by her clothes. she does not know when it happened or how long it took to heal. she cannot guess how sara could have received it.
the thought hurts more than it should, for some reason.
“ayaka, please,” sara repeats again, and the pain in her golden eyes is immeasurable. ayaka wants to reach forward, smooth out the crinkle in her brow, but she knows without trying that the cold metal wrapped around her wrists will stop her. “why did you do this?”
“i could not allow our nation to continue to be destroyed,” ayaka answers softly. it is the most honest answer she can offer. “there is sickness here, sara, and i only want to save inazuma.”
sara shakes her head, anger and sadness warring in equal measure in the rigid lines of her face. she exhales sharply, straightening and adjusting herself. “and who will save you, ayaka?”
she can only offer the general a smile. there will be no saving, they both know. she is the kamisato heiress – she is the most guarded of any tenryou prisoner. the most prized, because that is what she is.
until her execution, she is kept only as a symbol to the rebellion. ayaka can only hope they will not be so foolish as to falter now.
“i hope this is what you wanted, sara,” ayaka says quietly.
sara stiffens, looking over at her abruptly, hands clenched. ayaka lifts her head, meeting the electric sharpness of sara’s eyes with cold steel of her own.
“you are a fool, lady kamisato,” sara breathes out, furious disbelief leaking into her voice. “this is what you will die for?”
ayaka says nothing, but the answer is written on her face. of course it is. they have always been too alike – as sara will not be deterred from her devotion to the shogun, nor will ayaka waver from her loyalty to the rebellion.
sara scoffs, shaking her head. she turns away, grief and wrath bleeding through her posture, and her steps echo through the hall as she leaves. ayaka wonders if she would have waited a little longer.
it does her no good to think of such things. ayaka would never ask and sara would never stay. that is simply the way that they are.
perhaps, in another world, they could have loved each other properly. could have learned to put each other first.
they never could have, here. they were never meant to.